#Road Safety Measures

[lyncotek]

Enhancing Road Safety: The Lifesaving Power of Convex Mirrors, Barricades, Road Safety Gloves, and LED Solar Blinkers

Improving security through innovation: The evolution of product security:

Introduction: In the realm of road safety, every precaution matters. From highways to city streets, the potential for accidents and hazards is ever-present. In this blog post, Nevertheless, with the advent of innovative road safety products, we now have the opportunity to mitigate risks and save lives. we’ll delve into the lifesaving capabilities of four key road safety products like  Convex Mirrors, Barricades, road safety gloves, and LED solar blinkers.

Convex Mirrors: Expanding Vision for Safer Roads Convex mirrors provide a wider field of view, particularly at blind spots and intersections, improving visibility for drivers, cyclists, and pedestrians to detect approaching vehicles and pedestrians from various angles. Blind spots are reduced and awareness is enhanced by convex mirrors, preventing the occurrence of accidents.

Barricades: Creating Safe Zones and Managing Traffic Barricades serve as essential tools for creating safe work zones, diverting traffic, and managing crowds during road construction, maintenance, or emergencies. Additionally, these barriers act as physical barriers, preventing vehicles and pedestrians from entering hazardous areas. Whether it’s redirecting traffic away from a construction site or delineating lanes during an event, barricades play an indispensable role in maintaining order and safety on the road.

Road Safety Gloves: Protecting Hands and Improving Visibility Specially designed road safety gloves offer protection and visibility for workers and cyclists, featuring reflective strips or high-visibility colors for enhanced visibility, even in low-light conditions. They also provide protection against abrasions, cuts, and impacts, reducing the risk of hand injuries.

LED Solar Blinkers: Enhancing Visibility and Signaling Self-contained, solar-powered devices equipped with LED lights that flash or blink to attract attention are LED solar blinkers. They are commonly used to mark hazards, delineate lanes, or provide warning signals to drivers and pedestrians. By enhancing visibility and signaling potential hazards, LED solar blinkers help reduce the risk of accidents, particularly in areas with poor lighting or visibility.

Conclusion: Innovation and technology are crucial for safer roads. Products like convex mirrors, barricades, safety gloves, and LED blinkers help save lives and prevent accidents. They expand vision, create safe zones, protect hands, and enhance visibility. Let’s prioritize road safety by embracing these innovative solutions for a safer future.

[townpostin]

Nurse's Death Triggers Strike at Jamshedpur Sadar Hospital

Doctors demand ₹50 lakh compensation, job, and safety measures after nurse’s death. Jamshedpur doctors halt all services, demanding compensation and safety improvements after a nurse was killed in an accident. JAMSHEDPUR – Medical staff at Sadar Hospital have gone on strike, suspending all services after a nurse died in an accident. Late Friday night, a speeding vehicle struck nurse Shashikala…

[nnctales]

Exploring the Diversity of Roads: A Comprehensive Guide to Different Types of Roads

Introduction: Roads are the arteries of a nation, connecting cities, towns, and villages, facilitating the movement of people and goods. They play a crucial role in the socio-economic development of a country. However, not all roads are created equal. They come in various types, each designed for specific purposes and conditions. In this article, we will delve into the diverse world of roads,…

[kebriones]

The first rule of driving safety is have fun and be yourself

Me being myself by driving 20km under the speed limit because the car is a death machine and having fun by singing whatever song is playing on the radio in a "I'm about to die and this is my final prayer" manner.

[vintagebutterfly]

The ground is colder than the air. Roads can ice over at + 4 °C.

ROAD SAFETY PSA: Roads can ice over at + 4 °C!!!

absolutely obsessed with the way Fahrenheit is legitimately a superior temperature measurements for day to day life than celsius (more precise, accessible, and understandable) but ppl refuse to admit to it bc they’re so caught up with the “silly americans refuse to convert to metric” gag

[goodoldbandit]

The Legacy of Colonel T.E. Lawrence: Why Helmet Use Became Essential

Discover the story behind the authorization of helmet use after Colonel T.E. Lawrence’s tragic motorcycle accident. Explore the tradeoffs, challenges, and impact of this pivotal decision in road safety history. #HelmetSafety #RoadSafety #ColonelLawrenceLegacy In 1935, tragedy struck the world with the untimely death of Colonel T.E. Lawrence, better known as Lawrence of Arabia. His demise wasn’t…

[mapecl-stories]

The Destructive Impact: An Unexplained Accident Shakes Wiefelstede

The day began in Wiefelstede, a tranquil town in the Ammerland district, with a dreadful incident. In the early morning hours, a car driver crashed forcefully into the front windows of a house. The impact was so powerful that the living room of the house resembled a field of debris.

However, it wasn't just the house that was affected. In the living room lay a man who was peacefully sleeping, only to be hit by the flying debris of the approaching car. He suffered minor injuries and was lucky to escape with his life.

As the man was being freed from the sofa, his voice could be heard softly through the debris, asking, "What happened? Am I injured?"

A paramedic reassured him and replied, "You were hit by debris from the car, but fortunately, your injuries are minor. Just stay calm, we'll take care of you."

The driver of the unfortunate car stood next to his damaged vehicle, staring fixedly at the house. A police officer approached him and asked with concern, "Are you okay? What happened?"

The driver answered with a trembling voice, "I don't know, I can't remember how I ended up here. I just veered off the road, and then everything turned into chaos."

Meanwhile, the other residents of the house had come out of their rooms, shocked by the wreckage. A woman rushed to her neighbor and exclaimed, "Oh my God, are you alright? I heard the crash and came here immediately."

The deeply shaken neighbor replied, "I'm as good as can be expected under the circumstances. But I'm worried about our safety, it could have been much worse."

At the same time, a police officer interviewed a witness who had observed the accident. He asked, "Can you tell us anything about how the accident happened?"

The witness replied, "I saw the driver taking the curve at a much too high speed. Then he lost control and crashed directly onto the property. It all happened so fast."

In the following days, the residents of the house gathered together to discuss their fears and concerns. A woman spoke with a trembling voice, saying, "We need to improve our security measures. Something like this must never happen again."

The story of the unexplained accident quickly spread throughout the community. During a meeting at the town hall, the mayor stated, "We must stick together as a community and support each other. We will review and enhance our safety precautions to protect our residents."

In the weeks to come, the people of Wiefelstede would strive to process the tragedy and rebuild their lives. However, the memory of that dreadful day, the driver veering off the road, and the devastation he left behind, would remain etched in their minds for a long time.

[ms-demeanor]

BTW following distance:

There are a ton of various ways that people recommend you track following distance in your car for safety, and most of them are some measure of distance or time. I don't know what a hundred yards looks like. I don't know how many is ten carlengths. I measure in time.

The way that I do this is I watch the car in front of me pass an object and I count how long it takes me to get to the same object. Car in front of me passes a line in the pavement? One mississippi, two mississippi, three mississippi, four mississippi - it takes me four seconds to get to the line.

The faster you are going, the faster TRAFFIC is going, the more time you need for following distance because it's going to take longer for your fast-moving car to stop than it would for your slow-moving car to stop. You need even MORE time if your car is HEAVY, which is part of why it is rock fucking stupid when people dart in front of semis or when massive pickup trucks start tailgating.

With enough practice you get a good feel for what is a safe distance in various conditions (wet road after a long period with no rain? you need A FUCKING LOT of space), but one of the better ways to learn this is to play what I call the traffic game.

When you're playing the traffic game, you sit in traffic behind the car in front of you and you count how many times they press their brakes to each time you press yours, resetting to zero each time you put your foot on the brake.

If you are leaving good following distance, you should almost never use your brakes while driving on the highway because momentum should be enough to slow you down and keep you back if you're getting close to another car. If you have to brake frequently, you're too close for your speed.

Playing this game will make you a better, safer driver who is more aware of traffic and has a better feel for driving conditions. It has the added benefit (for me) of making traffic more fun to sit in as you try to beat your personal record (mine is 48; the driver in front of me pressed their brakes 48 times before I had to press mine).

Reset to zero when you have to brake, or when another car moves in front of you. You're allowed to ignore brake presses when going downhill but have to have double penalties if you brake while going uphill.

The *minimum* following distance at ANY speed and in ANY vehicle is far enough back that you can see where the tires of the vehicle in front of you touch the ground. If you have to brake hard enough that you can't see where the tires in front of you are you need to get off the road and practice driving more in empty parking lots because you are a hazard.

Remember that you are ALWAYS responsible for an accident if you rear end someone - if you rolled into another car because the car behind you hit your car, you were too close! If you rear-ended a driver in front of you because they braked suddenly for a cat in the road and you couldn't stop in time, you were too close! Leaving sufficient distance between you and the car in front of you is basically the most important thing that you can do to improve your road safety once you're past the basic stages of situation awareness and knowing how to check your blind spot. You do not want to be responsible for an accident! You do not want to risk injuring or killing people with your vehicle! One of the single best ways you can avoid that risk is by leaving sufficient following distance!

[nerdy-novelist017]

The Ride (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader Pt 2)

Wow, I truly didn't expect all the love for the last post! Thank you so so much! Here's a part two baked fresh just for you lovelies! ;)

( Also! I'm going to work on putting together a masterlist for my fics for him since I have so many ideas)

Ps. please send me requests for this man i'm going feral over here from all the possibilities

Part 1 here

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 1.9k

-Minor NSFW Content-

Summary- You thought getting on the bike would be the hardest part. Having to unwrap your legs from his waist and get off at the end of the night was significantly more difficult.

*******

Despite the fact that you knew there were multiple people surrounding you, all cheering, your eyes were glued to Benny’s form as he swung a leg over top of his bike. He kickstarted the motorcycle, the muscles in his thigh flexing through the faded pair of jeans he wore. The engine roared to life and it took everything in you not to jump back. Benny glanced over his shoulder, and the look in his eyes all but dared you to run away, to take it back and return to the safety of the car. 

But some underlying competitive streak in you flared and you clenched your fists tightly. You approached his bike and he took your purse and Tupperware bowl, tucking them away in his back compartment. He leaned forward and awkwardly swung a leg over his bike, attempting to repeat his action as you mounted, but the movement caused your dress to slide up to reveal a generous view of your upper thigh. Blushing, you glanced at the onlookers who cheered and whistled at the sight, but Benny seemed to ignore them. Without looking, he reached back, his hand enveloping your thigh, sliding it higher so that your foot found the footrest. Heat instantly blossomed from the contact and you physically resisted clenching your knees tighter around him. 

“Hang on tight, Little Bunny,” he murmured as he moved his hand to grab your arm, gently guiding it forward to wrap around his waist.  He revved the engine and you tighten your grasp over his waist, eyes closed as the bike began to slowly roll forward over the grassy field. The cheers subsided into the wind that tugged gently at your hair. You’re going on an adventure, it seemed to say, but you refused to open your eyes.

Heart drumming in your chest, you hoped to spend the entire ride with your eyes screwed shut, pretending to be anywhere else, anywhere safer. But then the bumpy and uneven field soon turned to smooth blacktop as he maneuvered the two of you onto the backroad. You felt the bike increase in speed slightly and you dared to peek an eye open. Corn fields blurred as you sped by, the setting sun seeming to light the horizon with a brilliant show of deep oranges and purples. A gasp escaped your lips and you pressed yourself closer to him in a desperate measure to not fall off, hands flush against the curve of his abdomen.  

He rode with one hand, you realized, and it painted a picture of a cowboy in your mind. Had this been the 1860s, Benny would have ridden his horse like this, a model of a true outlaw with his dangerous persona and ruggedly handsome appearance.

The world sped by, or rather you sped by the world as Benny drove down the center of the yellow lines. You couldn’t stop the squeal that escaped you as he leaned the bike to go around a turn. He took you down roads you’ve never been before, pointed out interesting things and places you’ve never seen. True to his word, he didn’t go very fast, never faster than the speed limit at least. But regardless, it was an adventure – both frightening and fun and your heart never seemed to return to its slower rhythm. Despite the fact that you've never ridden on a motorcycle before and the uncertainty of your next destination, there was strange sense of safety that invoked you as you breathed in Benny's scent, hands clasped tightly to him. As the sun completely dipped below the horizon and the temperature dropped, he finally asked you where you lived. 

When he did eventually pull up to your house (hours later), the rumble of the motorcycle seemed to echo off the houses, disturbing the peaceful silence of your quiet neighborhood. He cut the engine and the toe of his boot kicked out the kickstand, shifting your combined weights to the side slightly and the air was once again filled with silence. The muscles in his back flexed as he leaned back ever so slightly, his head turning to glance back at you over his shoulder.

He held an arm out for you as you awkwardly dismounted, heart pounding again. A strange sense of disappointment panged in your gut as the bottom of your heels made contact with the blacktop. You stood there before him, eyes now level with his as he remained seated casually on his bike. Keep driving, you wanted to tell him. Keep driving and let's find our way to the end of the world together. You wanted to hop back on the back and wrap your arms around his waist. You wanted to ride with him till the sun came up over the horizon, just this once, just because you’ve never stayed out till the sun came up. Your family would worry, your father would be pacing up and down the hallway just inside, but something in you longed to throw caution to the wind, to do something naughty. 

You bit your lip as you broke eye contact with him and looked down to your feet. What were you thinking? You played life by the rules. You were a good girl, that’s what your parents called you. That’s what your teachers called you. That’s what you were raised to be. That’s all you knew how to be, what you were comfortable with. Benny . . . he made you uncomfortable. He filled your belly with butterflies, made your heart pump harder than normal, made the spot between your legs tingle. All things that dangerously threatened to upend the perfectly planned life you had. Trouble, plain and simple.

You got what you wanted – a ride home and a bit of excitement. You got close enough to the fire without getting burned, got to play a risky game for the evening. Now it was time for you to go back to your routine life. That perfectly . . . boring life. 

“Thank you . . . for the ride,” you said softly, the adrenaline of the adventure smothering into ashes. 

He nodded and you watched as his cyan gaze moved from you to your house behind you. “You still live with your family?”

“Yeah,” you replied, heat touching your face. “Why?”

He looked back at you. “Just gotta know what kind of house you want after we’re married.”

“What?” you balked at him, stomach dropping like you just took a plunge off a bridge.

He smiled and leaned an arm forward, resting casually on his bike as if he didn’t just say something shockingly direct. He offered no help, just watched as you attempted to sputter a response.

“M–married? We . . . I don’t . . . even know you.” You breathed out a nervous laugh. You went for one ride with him! You had only had a handful of sentences exchanged between you, the majority of those spoken with a crowd cheering around you. Who did this guy think he was? 

He shrugged as he slid his hands into the front pocket of his jacket and retrieved his pack of cigarettes. “We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other.”

Your eyes widened at his audacity. “I’m not marrying you!”

“Yeah? Why’s that?” He looked amused as he flipped open his lighter, the flame casting his face in an orange glow as he lit one of his cigarettes. Your protests wavered slightly as you watched his hands cup around the flame in an effort to protect from the wind and his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, the cigarette tucked between his lips. A phantasm of his hands cupping your breasts, his tall frame hovering above you, lips pressing softly against your collarbone tainted your mind and you took a step back to put physical distance between you and this man. 

Swallowing thickly, you continued, “Well, I don’t even know your last name–”

“Cross.”

“–And I don’t even know if I like you!”

“I think you like me,” he said confidently and you snapped your jaw shut at the accusation. “Why else would you let me drive you home?”

“W–what if I just used you to get me home?” you countered quickly. 

“Did you use me, Bunny?” he drew out the sentence with an almost painfully seductive smile. You furrowed your brow, irritation flooding your veins. He was quick, you’d give him that.

Benny studied the way your lips pursed and he wondered if that was something you did while you were angry or if it was your way of finding another excuse. He wanted to spend the rest of his life finding the answers to your facial expressions, the meaning behind your almost undetectable quirks he was discovering with each minute spent in your company. And my god, those those lips . . . his eyes fell down to those soft lips of yours, fascinated by how he wanted to feel them wrapped around his—

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Cross,” your voice brought him back to reality as you reached forward and grabbed your purse and empty Tupperware bowl from his bike. “But I–I have no intentions on marrying you. In fact, I doubt I’ll ever see you again.”

“Hmm, okay,” he feigned being hurt by your words. “Whatever you say, kid.” 

You shot him a frustrated look. “What’s with all the nicknames?”

He held up his arms in mock surrender. “You don’t like ‘em?”

"I don't think they're very accurate."

He raised his brows at you, unconvinced.

“Yeah? Well, I got a nickname for you.” you retorted. 

“And what’s that?” He played along to your game. 

“Trouble.”

“Trouble?”

“Mh-hm.” You nodded and lifted your free hand to brush the wind-whipped hair from your eyes.

He shrugged and spoke around the cigarette in his mouth. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been called that. You think I’m trouble, Bunny?”

An exasperated sigh left your lips and Benny felt a swell of pride at the reaction. This was fun, teasing you like this. The blush tainting your face, a clear sign of your flustered reaction, made his heartbeat quicken. 

“Goodnight, Benny,” you said a little firmer as you turned and walked up the sidewalk to your house. 

“Goodnight, Bunny,” Benny called out as he watched the sway of your hips as you climbed the front steps. You shot him one last look over the curve of your shoulder before you opened the front door and slipped inside. Benny sat on his bike outside your house, his mind reeling as he finished his cigarette. He hadn’t felt this excited in a long time and hadn't felt this kind of adrenaline since his first ride. This was a new kind of ride, Benny realized. Something exhilarating and arousing gripped his heart when he looked at you in your pretty little dress with your innocently wide eyes and pouty lip. The primal instinct of taking you in his arms and laying you down onto your shared bed, his body shielding you from the rest of the world played in his mind the movie. He wanted to grab your hand and show you just how exciting life could be with him. Not to change you, he’d make sure your integrity was protected, but to broaden your horizon.

And maybe it made him selfish, but Benny's never had anything as good as you in his life and because of that, he wanted to be your guide throughout every adventure going forward.

[townpostin]

Three Dead, Five Injured In Highway Collision Near Dhanbad

Speeding Bolero Hits Roadside Bike On NH-2, Mother And Daughter Among Victims Accident occurred near Madaidih under Topchachi police station on Saturday morning. DHANBAD – A tragic accident on National Highway-2 near Madaidih claimed three lives and left five injured when a Bolero collided with a stationary motorcycle on Saturday morning. "The incident occurred around 10 am, with two victims…

[nemo-writes]

⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; going back to the coven is anything but comforting. meanwhile, the pack finally face the truth, consumed by shame and grief as they finally grasp the depth of their betrayal—and what it’s cost them.

⚠️ warnings; none

★ previous ; next

☆ story masterlist

The trip home stretched endlessly, the hum of magic-infused machinery barely masking the heavy silence that filled the car. You sat in the back seat next to your Mother, her gaze remained fixed out the window, unyielding and distant, while Cath Palug purred softly in her lap, seemingly impervious to the tension.

Up front, König drove in complete silence, his focus locked on the road. His stillness was matched by Sybil, who had climbed into the back with you, pressing herself against your side. Her warmth and steady breaths anchored you.

The landscape shifted as the car veered off the main road, winding deeper into the countryside. The town near the coven came into view, a picture of quiet prosperity nestled among the trees. Its flourishing streets and bustling community reflected your Mother’s fierce protection and the coven’s watchful eye. People paused as the sleek black car passed, bowing deeply or offering respectful nods. Despite your Mother’s cold and exacting nature, her loyalty and strength ensured the people's safety and growth.

The car rolled through the wrought iron gates of the estate, the sprawling grounds of the coven’s domain stretching out before you. The old English-style mansion rose ahead, a commanding presence surrounded by lush gardens and shadowed paths. Across the grounds, women in training moved purposefully, their whispered conversations halting when they caught sight of the car. They too bowed deeply, their expressions a mix of admiration and caution. Others, bolder, whispered amongst themselves, their gazes darting away when you glanced toward them through the window.

As the car slowed to a stop, your other mother emerged from the grand entrance, her wheelchair gliding forward with its graceful, hand-like appendages navigating the uneven stones effortlessly. Horangi walked steadily behind her, his presence as sharp and watchful as ever. At her side, her sleek, pitch-black Borzoi, Barghest, padded with a measured elegance.

Your Mom’s face lit up at the sight of you, though her eyes quickly darted to Sybil’s slight limp and the exhaustion etched into your features. Concern softened her expression, and her lips parted to speak, but her gaze shifted to your Mother first. She extended a hand, and your Mother leaned down, placing a tender kiss on her lips.

“I missed you,” your Mom murmured softly, her hand lingering on your Mother’s cheek.

Your Mother, though ever composed and aloof, allowed the faintest softening of her features. “As did I,” she replied, her voice low and steady.

Their connection, brief but undeniable, reminded you of the rare moments when their love shone through the icy expectations that so often consumed your Mother.

Turning her attention back to you, your Mom’s warm expression returned, though concern shadowed her gaze. “You look dreadful,” she said gently, her tone laced with worry. Her eyes flicking down to Sybil. “Not just tired. Injured. Both of you.”

Barghest tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing as she approached Sybil. There was a moment of stillness, a silent assessment passing between the two dogs. Then, the larger Borzoi lowered her head, greeting Sybil like a mother would her pup. Sybil, though hesitant at first, leaned into the touch, her tail giving a faint, tentative wag.

Your Mother remained silent, her cool poise unshaken, though you caught the faintest flicker of tension in her jaw—a rare tell. Without a word, she turned sharply on her heel, her movements precise and deliberate as if to shield any hint of unease. Cath Palug, ever her shadow, padded gracefully beside her, the flick of her tail echoed the unspoken dismissal left behind.

Your Mom sighed, shaking her head gently. “Inside. Now,” she said, her tone firm but kind.

König stepped out of the car without a word, his quiet efficiency undisturbed as he moved to the trunk. “I’ll handle everything,” he said, his voice low and steady. It was both a reassurance and a dismissal, leaving no room for argument as he began gathering your things.

Too drained to muster much else, you nodded faintly and followed your Mom’s gesture toward the house. Her wheelchair, its enchanted appendages moving with fluid precision, moved alongside you, the faint whir of magic lacing the air. Sybil kept close, her steps tentative as she walked beside you.

The familiar halls of the mansion unfolded around you, the heavy drapes and intricate carvings exuding an air of both history and expectation. The scent of aged wood and faint herbs lingered, familiar and oppressive.

In the sunlit sitting room, your Mom gestured for you to sit. “Horangi,” she said, her voice firm, “fetch tea and something to eat. They’ve been through enough already.”

Horangi hesitated for the briefest moment, his lips pressed into a thin line, but he turned on his heel and disappeared toward the kitchen without a word.

As you sank into the plush chair she indicated, Sybil curled at your feet, her head resting on your ankle. Barghest lingered near the doorway, before settling herself a short distance away, her gaze never straying far.

Your Mom clicked her tongue softly, a mix of concern and affection coloring her voice. “Put your feet up, darling,” she instructed gently, and with a graceful flick of her wrist, an ottoman slid effortlessly into place in front of you, gliding as if carried on an invisible current. “You’ve had a long enough journey, and I’m not having you sit there like some tensed-up statue.”

You hesitated for a moment, but her expectant gaze left no room for argument. Sighing, you shifted slightly and rested your feet on the plush surface, instantly feeling a sense of relief from the aching tension in your legs, especially your ankle. Sybil lifted her head slightly, her gaze flicking to your Mom with quiet, watchful curiosity.

“Good,” your Mom said, her tone softening further as she leaned forward, her sharp eyes sweeping over you with maternal precision. Her hands moved deftly as she checked your ankle, her touch light yet methodical. When she saw the faint marks left behind by your injuries, her lips pressed into a thin line, but her expression quickly morphed into one of quiet pride.

“These have already begun to heal,” she said, nodding approvingly. “Quick thinking, and your technique was flawless. If nothing else, I can see you took my lessons to heart.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her obvious gloating. “I didn’t have much choice,” you replied lightly. “It was that or worse.”

“That,” she said with a knowing smile, “is exactly what I taught you. You’ve made me proud, my darling. Even your binding work on these wounds is excellent, though it’s high time they were changed.”

With practiced ease, she removed the bandages, inspecting each mark carefully before conjuring a soft glow around her hands. The warmth of her magic soothed the lingering aches as she worked. Fresh bandages appeared at her side, summoned with a flick of her fingers, and she replaced the old ones with an efficiency that spoke to years of experience.

Satisfied with her work, she turned her attention to Sybil, who watched the proceedings with quiet patience. “Now, let’s see about you,” she murmured, crouching slightly as she reached out toward her.

Sybil tilted her head, her large, intelligent eyes locking onto your Mom’s. After a moment’s hesitation, she allowed the inspection. “Remarkable resilience,” she remarked, her voice tinged with admiration. “She’s a true reflection of her master’s skill. But even she needs rest.”

Barghest lifted her head slightly at the remark, her ears flicking forward as if to assess Sybil once more before settling back down again.

With Sybil’s examination complete, your Mom nodded in satisfaction. “There we are. Now, no arguments—you’ll have tea and something to eat before I let you do anything else.”

As if on cue, Horangi returned, carrying a tray laden with steaming tea, biscuits, and small plates of fruit. His expression was as cool as he set it down on the low table before you. “Tea,” he announced curtly.

“Thank you, Horangi,” your Mom said warmly, her tone cutting through his frostiness like sunlight through mist. “We’ll manage from here.”

You poured yourself a cup, the warm aroma calming your frayed nerves as you leaned back into the chair. Sybil sniffed at the tray, her nose twitching curiously as you passed her a small piece of biscuit. When Horangi offered her another, she snorted, turning her head with a pointedly disdainful flick of her tail.

Your Mom chuckled softly, shaking her head. “She’s as particular as her mistress.”

With the tea and bandages sorted, your Mom clapped her hands, signaling the end of your brief respite. Her gaze softened as it rested on you, though the warmth didn’t mask the firmness in her tone. “That’s enough for now, darling. Go to your room. It’s been prepared and left untouched since the day you left.”

The words landed with an unmistakable weight, unspoken tension crackling faintly in the air between you. For a moment, you considered saying something, but the words died on your tongue. Instead, you gave a curt nod, rising to your feet as Sybil stretched and followed close at your side. Barghest didn't move from her place, but you could feel her watching the two of you go.

The door opened before you could reach it, and there stood König, his towering presence filling the doorway. His gaze immediately dropped to you, scanning your face for any sign of distress . Still, he said nothing, but his intent was clear as he stepped aside, waiting to escort you.

“König,” you started, exhaling sharply, “I don’t need—”

“Upstairs,” he interrupted, his voice calm but firm. “Your room.”

You frowned but knew better than to argue further. He didn’t push; he simply waited, his quiet resolve enough to make you give in with a sigh. His hand hovered near your lower back, not touching but close enough to guide you as you left the sitting room.

The climb up the grand staircase was heavier than it should have been. As you ascended, the apprentices of the coven—a mix of young women in training and those tending to the estate—moved about their tasks. Some bowed their heads respectfully, their gazes averted as they murmured greetings. Others, less acquainted with you, whispered amongst themselves, their curiosity poorly hidden.

“Is that her?” one murmured, her voice barely audible but sharp enough to reach your ears. “The young lady who ran away?”

“She is,” another replied, her tone hushed with a mix of awe and skepticism. “The heir.”

The words pricked at your composure, but you forced your expression to remain neutral, your stride steady. König, however, shot them a sharp glance over his shoulder, his narrowed eyes silencing the whispers instantly. His imposing presence alone was enough to scatter their murmurs, leaving only the faint shuffle of their footsteps.

“You didn't have to—” you started again, but König interrupted with a quiet, unyielding tone. “I do.”

When you reached your room, he stepped ahead of you, opening the door with a slow push. The air inside was still and heavy, thick with the weight of time passed. Everything was exactly as you’d left it—the furniture untouched, the books neatly stacked, and the faint scent of your perfume lingering as though it had waited for you to return.

Sybil padded inside first, hopping onto the bed and curling up in its center with an air of practiced ease, as if reclaiming her territory. You lingered in the doorway, your gaze sweeping the room. What should have been comforting instead felt stifling, the untouched state of the room more of a reminder than a reprieve.

König stepped aside to let you enter fully, his eyes following your every movement. “It’s the same,” he said softly, almost as though the words were for himself.

“It’s suffocating,” you admitted quietly, your fingers brushing against the edge of the desk. The room, with all its familiarity, felt like a cage—one you’d thought you’d escaped.

König frowned slightly but said nothing, his expression under his mask unreadable as always. After a moment, he reached down and gently picked up your bag from where he’d set it near the doorway, placing it on the bed beside Sybil.

“I’ll leave you to settle in,” he said finally, his tone softer than before. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze lingering on you as if searching for something, but then he gave a small nod. “I’ll be close if you need anything.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and left, his heavy steps retreating down the hall. You sighed, closing the door behind him, and leaned back against it. The stillness of the room pressed down on you, and though Sybil’s steady presence was a comfort, the weight of the past seemed to close in.

Crossing to the window, you pushed it open, letting the cool evening air sweep into the room. It helped—if only a little.

As you moved around the room, a soft knock came at the door. Sybil, ever vigilant, lifted her head from her paws, her ears perking. Before you could say anything, the door creaked open, revealing a young girl you didn’t recognize. She couldn’t have been more than sixteen, her wide eyes hesitant as she stepped inside, balancing a neatly folded pile of clothes in her arms.

“These are for you,” she said softly, her voice carrying a nervous edge. “Lady Le Fay picked them out herself.”

Your gaze flicked to the clothes—exquisitely made, as always. Their elegance spoke of your Mother’s impeccable standards, her expectations woven into every stitch. You nodded, a simple acknowledgment, and reached for the garments, but the girl hesitated, her hands tightening on the fabric for just a moment before releasing it.

“I’ll help you,” she offered quickly, setting the pile down on the bed. She busied herself with smoothing the wrinkles, her nervous energy filling the room. As she worked, she glanced up at you, her expression uncertain. “I—I know it’s not my place, but… I wanted to say something.”

You arched a brow, motioning for her to continue as you picked up the blouse, the material cool against your fingertips.

“I think… what you did—leaving, I mean—was brave,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her words hung in the air, heavy with risk. “I know most of the others don’t see it that way, but I do.”

Her admission caught you off guard. You paused, meeting her gaze, and she flushed under your scrutiny, her hands wringing nervously. “I just think that… if more of us thought like you, maybe this place wouldn’t feel so—” She hesitated, her words catching on the edge of something unspoken. “So oppressive.”

A bitter smile tugged at your lips, though you tried to suppress it. “Oppressive,” you repeated softly, the word tasting both foreign and familiar on your tongue.

The girl straightened, her expression shifting as if she regretted her honesty. “Not that I’m ungrateful,” she added quickly. “Our lives are good. Better than most. It’s just…” She trailed off, shaking her head as if the rest of the sentence was too dangerous to utter.

You turned toward her fully, folding the blouse carefully in your hands. “You’re not wrong,” you said after a beat. “But you’re also not ready to say it out loud. Not here.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought she might argue. Instead, she nodded, a faint look of understanding passing over her features. “Thank you,” she whispered, dipping her head respectfully. “I’ll leave you to finish.”

With that, she slipped out of the room, the door clicking softly behind her. You stared at the closed door for a moment, the tension in your chest knotting tighter. Sybil padded closer, her head nudging your leg.

“Brave,” you murmured to yourself as you began dressing, the word echoing in your mind. It wasn’t how you’d ever seen it. Foolish, reckless, selfish—all those had been easier to accept. But brave? It felt foreign, like a coat you weren’t sure how to wear.

As you fastened the final button, Sybil huffed softly. You knelt to scratch behind her ears, her steady gaze meeting yours as if she, too, approved of the sentiment. “Maybe,” you said quietly, “just maybe.”

. . .

The silence after Alejandro and Rudy’s revelations was suffocating, a tangible weight pressing down on the room. Laswell had gone upstairs to deal with Leah, leaving the pack to sit with the unbearable truth laid out before them.

At the centre of the table sat the nail, sealed in a small glass flask. It was a stark reminder of everything they had ignored, every warning they had missed. Alejandro and Rudy had placed it there when they began their explanation, a silent indictment of the pack’s failure to see what had been festering under their noses.

Price sat at the head of the table, his expression was unreadable, but the lines around his mouth and the set of his jaw betrayed his inner turmoil. He’d barely spoken during their explanation, his hand resting heavily on the table, fingers occasionally twitching as if itching to grip something—anything.

Gaz sat at the table, his face buried in his hands, silent tears slipping through his fingers. His knee, usually bouncing with nervous energy, was still for once, the tension in his body radiating a quiet devastation. The guilt tore through him like claws—how had they let it get this far? How had they hurt you so deeply, so irreparably?

Johnny, unable to bear it, had bolted from the room. His overgrown hair whipped behind him as he fled, his footsteps heavy and uneven. The door slammed somewhere in the distance, and they all knew he was headed back to the woods, a place he’d always gone to hide when the world became too much.

Price’s gaze moved to Ghost, who hadn’t uttered a word since the conversation began. “Simon,” he said, his voice firm but quieter.

Ghost didn’t move. His hands were still planted on the table, his head bowed, his broad shoulders tense. Price’s tone softened, though the weight of his words remained. “You’ve got to say something. Anything.”

Still, he said nothing, his mind an unrelenting whirlwind of fragmented memories, half-formed regrets, and the crushing realisation of what he’d done. He’d been the one who brought Leah into their lives. But worst of all, he’d hurt you. Attacked you and Sybil.

The reality had settled over him like a lead cloak, immobilising him.

Alejandro, standing by the wall with his arms crossed, scoffed. “What’s the point of talking? He knows what he did.” His sharp gaze cut to Price. “But don’t think for a second that any of you are off the hook. You all failed her.”

“Enough,” Price said sharply, his tone commanding. “We know. Don’t you think we bloody know?”

Alejandro smirked coldly, his gaze unwavering. “Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like it.”

Rudy, standing nearby, placed a calming hand on Alejandro’s arm. “Ale, we’ve said what we came to say. Let them deal with it.”

“Fine,” he muttered, but his eyes burned with disdain as he looked at them.

Gaz swallowed hard, “But who… who did this? Who’s responsible?”

Alejandro shrugged, brow furrowed. “We don’t know exactly, yet at least. Whoever it was, they knew what they were doing.”

Price exhaled heavily, his hand running over his face as if trying to push back the weight of the truth. “You’re saying this was all to isolate her?”

Rudy nodded solemnly. “That’s how these curses work. They isolate, divide, and weaken. She was the target from the start. You? You were just tools. Puppets.”

Alejandro crossed his arms, his gaze hard. “So don’t sit here wallowing in your own self-pity. Whatever guilt you’re feeling, it’s deserved. But the real question is, what are you going to do about it?”

Gaz let out a choked sound. “How… how do we fix this? How do we even begin to fix this?”

Price stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he walked to the window. His broad shoulders were rigid, as he stared out at the darkening horizon. “For now,” he said, his voice quiet but resolute, “we leave her alone. Like I said, we need to fix ourselves first, we have no right to even think about going after her.”

Alejandro and Rudy exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, Rudy sighed, his voice quieter but no less resolute. “We’ll keep looking,” he said, his gaze sweeping over the broken pack. “Whoever’s responsible for this won’t get away with it. When we know, we’ll keep you posted.”

Alejandro gave a firm nod, his expression unyielding. “But don’t expect miracles from us,” he added sharply.

They turned toward the door, the weight of their words settling like ash in the room. Rudy paused briefly, glancing back at the pack with a flicker of hesitation. But before they could leave, Ghost finally spoke.

His voice was low, gravelly, like the sound of rocks grinding together. “Is she… okay?”

Alejandro stopped, his hand resting on the doorframe. Rudy looked at him, eyebrows furrowing, but Alejandro didn’t move.

“You should know the answer to that, shouldn’t you?” he said flatly. “You know her best.”

Ghost stayed silent, his head bowing ever so slightly. Deep down, he already knew. The part of him that loved you with every fiber of his being—despite feeling unworthy of it—knew that you were okay, wherever you were. But that knowledge didn’t ease the hollow ache inside him.

With that, the front door closed with a heavy thud, leaving the pack alone once again.

Price stood at the window, unmoving, the faint glow of his nth cigar's ember casting a dim light in the darkening room. His shoulders were tense, the weight of his failures settling heavily on him, but his voice was steady when he finally spoke.

“Get it together,” he said, his words cutting through the silence like a knife. “We’ve all failed her. But if she’s still out there, we owe it to her to fix this.”

Ghost remained at the table, his eyes fixed on the cursed nail. The silence that followed was more damning than anything that had been said.

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[gerlionrise]

A Game within the Game P5:Finale

Hwang In-ho ( The Frontman ) x reader Synopsis: Hwang In-ho loses to you at his own game. This is part 5 - the final part. Please, read all the previous parts here.

The Endgame You woke up to the hum of an engine and the faint scent of leather, your head pressed against the cold glass of a car window. Disoriented, you blinked rapidly, trying to piece together where you were and how you’d gotten there. The memories came rushing back: the fight with In-Ho, the kiss, the smoke, and In-ho leaving your room without a word. 

Turning your head, you found him sitting beside you, his sharp features exposed in the dim morning light. His expression was unreadable, but there was a tightness to his jaw that betrayed some buried tension.

“Where are we going?” you asked groggily, your voice rasping from sleep. “And was it really necessary to knock me out like that?” 

He glanced at you briefly, his gaze softer than you expected. “It was for your safety,” he said simply, his tone measured but not unkind. 

You scoffed, sitting up straighter, though the remnants of the gas made your movements sluggish. “For my safety? Or for the safety of your game-place?”

His lips twitched in what could have been the ghost of a smile, but he said nothing. You shifted uncomfortably, still groggy, and realized the gas hadn't completely worn off yet. The heaviness in your limbs made it impossible to stay upright for long.

With a frustrated sigh, you gave in and leaned back into the seat. Despite everything, you felt yourself swaying toward him, seeking a strange kind of comfort. Slowly, you let your head rest against his shoulder. 

For a moment, you thought he might push you away, but then, almost imperceptibly, he relaxed. 

You felt his arm shift, hesitating in the air between you before finally settling around you. He pulled you closer, curling you against him, his hold gentle but firm, as though afraid you might break. 

The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear was surprisingly calming. It was the first time you'd ever felt him this human—warm, solid, and strangely vulnerable. You didn’t want to think about why it made you feel safe, or why your body instinctively leaned into his. 

For a while, neither of you spoke. The car moved steadily along the road, the silence punctuated only by the occasional rustle of fabric as his hand unconsciously adjusted to cradle you more securely. It was the kind of silence that carried unspoken truths—ones you weren’t ready to face yet. 

"Was this part of your master plan too?" you murmured finally, your voice muffled against his chest. 

He glanced down at you, his expression unreadable. “No,” he admitted softly. “This wasn’t part of any plan.” ---

The car came to a slow stop, and when you stepped out, you froze. The graveyard stretched out before you, quiet and serene, the morning dew clinging to the grass. Rows upon rows of headstones marked the resting places of lives long gone. In-ho motioned for you to follow him.

He led you to a modest grave near the back of the cemetery. The headstone was simple, carved with a name and dates you didn’t recognize. But your eyes lingered on the photograph etched into the stone — it was In-ho with some woman. The woman had kind eyes, her smile warm and radiant. Her hair was eerily similar to yours, the same shade that In-ho had once offhandedly complimented.   “This is my wife,” he said, breaking the silence. His voice was low, trembling slightly, though his face remained stoic.

The moment he began speaking about his wife, there was a change in In-ho's demeanor. For once, the impenetrable mask he wore seemed to falter, revealing a man who wasn’t as untouchable as he wanted the world—and himself—to believe.  

“She was everything to me,” he started, his voice quieter than usual, yet still firm enough to command attention. His hands were trembling slightly as they rested at his sides, though he tried to mask it. He looked down at the gravestone, his lips pressing together tightly before he continued.  

“She was strong. Stronger than I could ever be.” In-ho straightened slowly, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since you arrived. “You have her smile,” he said softly. “And her fire. It’s… familiar.”   You remembered his words from days ago.

“Why would you do this? Why would you let me go through all of that? Why did you let me live?”

“You remind me of someone.” He continued, “When she got sick, she fought like hell. She wanted to live. Not for herself, but for us. For the life we dreamed of having together.” He paused, exhaling shakily. “But the treatments were expensive. Every doctor, every clinic—they bled us dry, and it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.”  

You said nothing, watching him intently, unsure of where this was going.  

“I entered the games because of her,” he admitted, his voice breaking ever so slightly. “I thought, if I could win, I could save her. I could fix everything.” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And I did win. I survived. But by the time I had the money, it was already too late.”  

He crouched slightly, resting a hand on the edge of her gravestone as if it could somehow anchor him. “She died while I was still fighting for her.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly.  

“And for what?” he spat, his tone shifting to something more bitter. “For what? To come out of it and see that the world is full of people who don’t deserve the lives they have? I watched people in that game lie, cheat, and kill for money. Some of them wanted it for cars, for houses, for luxuries—while my wife was fighting for her life. Fighting with every ounce of strength she had just to live another day. And those bastards—” His voice rose sharply, his anger boiling over. “Those bastards threw their lives away for something so meaningless.”   He fully turned to you then, his face desperate, his eyes searching yours for something—for understanding, for validation, for anything. “Don’t you see? Humanity is rotten. People like that—they don’t deserve to—" He stopped himself, his voice catching.   You could feel the weight of his confession bearing down on you, but you refused to let it sway you. His pain was real, yes. His grief was real. But it didn’t excuse the horrors he’d perpetuated.   “So that’s it?” you asked, your voice cold, cutting through the charged silence. "That’s your justification?” your voice cold. “You’ve spent years running these games—watching people die—because you lost your wife? His eyes widened slightly, like he hadn’t expected the bluntness of your response. “You don’t understand,” he said quickly, his voice growing defensive.  

“No,” you interrupted, stepping closer to him. “I do understand. You lost her. And that’s devastating. But it doesn’t justify the years of suffering you’ve caused. It doesn’t justify the deaths of all those people.”  

“They weren’t innocent,” he shot back, his voice rising. “They chose to be there. They chose to play.”  

“And they were desperate,” you countered, your voice steady but fierce. “Just like you were. Do you think you’re any better than them? Do you think what you did for her is somehow nobler than what they did for their families, their lives?” He froze at your words, his mouth opening slightly before he closed it again, clearly caught off guard.   “You wanted to believe you were the hero in this story, didn’t you? The man who suffered but rose again, who took control when life was spinning out of it. But all you’ve done is hide. You’ve built walls of blood and gold, trying to drown out the voice of the man you used to be. The man she loved."

“That’s not…” he began, but his voice faltered. He let out a shaky breath, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “That’s not what this is.”  

But it was. You could see it in the way his defenses crumbled before your eyes. The walls he’d built to shield himself from his own guilt were collapsing, piece by piece, under the weight of your words.  

His breathing grew uneven, and he stumbled back a step, running a hand over his face. When he looked at you again, there was something raw and broken in his expression.  

“You don’t know what it’s like,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “To lose the person you love. To do everything you can for them and still fail. You don’t know what that does to a person.”  

“You’re right,” you said softly. “I don’t. But I do know this: your wife wouldn’t have wanted this. And I wouldn’t have wanted Player 001 to be you. I cared.”  

At that, he broke. His hands flew to his face, covering it as his body shook with silent sobs. It was the first time you’d ever seen him cry, and the sight was both shocking and deeply unsettling.  

“You wanted me to pity you. To justify you. But I won’t. Because you don’t need my forgiveness, In-ho—you need your own. And that’s the one thing you’ll never be able to give yourself.” Yet again your words hit him like sword.

For years, he had carried this weight, convincing himself that he was in the right, that his actions were justified. But in that moment, you saw him for what he truly was: a man consumed by grief, guilt, and self-loathing.  You decided it was time for In-ho to lose at his own game. He had been trying to manipulate you for a long time, weaving his guilt into justification, cloaking his pain in a guise of righteousness. But you weren’t going to let him off that easily. His wife’s grave stood in front of him, an unyielding witness to this confrontation. The air was thick with unspoken words, tension brewing like a storm on the horizon.

“Let's do another turn of our game,” you said, your voice calm, though your heart was pounding. "Let me ask you a question.” In-ho tilted his head slightly, his sharp features illuminated by the pale gray sky. He seemed to know something was coming, but he gave a small nod. “Fine. Ask.”

You didn’t hesitate. “Do you know that all of this was a mistake for you?”

The question hung in the air like a knife, its blade glinting, poised to strike. In-ho’s stoic demeanor faltered, his lips parting slightly as the weight of your words pressed against him. His eyes narrowed, not in anger, but in something deeper—realization.

“You remember the rules,” you reminded him. “You have to answer honestly.”

He looked away, his gaze falling to the ground. For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence punctuated only by the sound of the wind rustling through the trees. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice raw and low, barely above a whisper. 

“Yes.”

And just like that, everything shattered.  In-ho exhaled sharply, his shoulders slumping as though the word had taken all the strength out of him. He had admitted it. This—everything—had been a mistake. Every life lost, every drop of blood spilled, every monstrous act committed in the name of his pain and grief—it had all been for nothing. He sank to his knees, the weight of his confession pulling him down. His hands trembled as he covered his face, but it didn’t stop the tears from escaping, dripping through his fingers. This man, so composed, so controlled, was breaking before your eyes.�� You continued, “You’ve lost, In-ho. Not just this game, but everything you thought you were fighting for. All these years, you told yourself it was for her, for survival, for justice against a world that took everything from you. Do you feel the weight of it? The lives you’ve traded for power, the humanity you buried alongside her?” You stared at him, your own emotions churning. There was a part of you that wanted to feel sorry for him, to reach out and comfort him. But the anger, the disgust, the sheer horror of what he had done eclipsed any pity you might have felt.  “And now? Now you’ve finally admitted it. That all of this—this chaos, this carnage—was a mistake. That it was never worth it. You told yourself it was for survival, but the truth is, you’ve just been running. Running from the guilt and from the pain.” When he finally looked up at you, his face was streaked with tears, his expression one of utter defeat. “You’ve won,” he said hoarsely.

But then, his eyes hardened, and his jaw clenched. He reached into his coat and pulled out a gun. Your heart leaped into your throat as he held it out to you, the handle extended in your direction.

“One question — one demand,” he said, his voice steady now, though his hand trembled slightly. “This is the rule of our game, right?” You nodded nervously. “I demand you to kill me.”

You stared at him, stunned. The gun was heavy in his hand, its black metal gleaming ominously in the dull light. For a moment, you were frozen, your mind racing. Then, a humorless chuckle escaped your lips. “No.”

In-ho’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by your refusal. “No?”  You stepped closer to him, your gaze unwavering. “I’m not going to kill you, In-ho. That would be too easy. You don’t get to escape this. You don’t get to take the coward’s way out. You’ve spent all these years trying to kill the man you used to be, but he’s still there, isn’t he? Crying out under all the blood and lies.”   “I want you to live with it,” you added coldly. “I want you to wake up every day knowing what you’ve done. Knowing that you admitted it was all a mistake. I want you to suffer with that knowledge for the rest of your life. Because that’s the only way you’ll ever pay for what you’ve done.”

The words cut deep, and you could see the impact they had on him. He lowered the gun completely, his shoulders trembling as he stared at you. For the first time, he seemed truly lost, a man stripped of all his armor, exposed and vulnerable. You were about to leave but In-ho’s voice cracked through the silence, hoarse and fragile.  “What about the money you won?” he asked, his head bowed, his hands limp at his sides. There was no anger in his voice, no edge—only a deep, hollow despair. 

You turned, your expression unreadable. For a moment, you said nothing, letting the weight of his question settle between you. Then, with a steady voice, you gave your answer.  

“Donate it. All of it. To the Cancer Care Center,” you said firmly.   In-ho’s head snapped up, his tear-streaked face filled with disbelief. He blinked at you. The reality of what you were saying hit him like a wave, and he broke again, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks.  

Before you could step away, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. His breath hitched, and he froze, the warmth of your lips lingering on his skin.

He lingered in your presence, his eyes desperately searching yours as though trying to memorize every detail, every trace of you. You could feel his longing, his need to hold on, but you had already made your decision.    “This is the end of the line for you, In-ho. You’ve lost.”  

And then, without another word, you turned and walked away. In-ho stayed there, rooted to the spot, watching you leave. As you disappeared into the distance, the wind carried your final words to him, a bittersweet farewell that would haunt him for the rest of his days.  

The man who had once controlled everything was left alone, kneeling in the graveyard, clutching at the shards of what was left of his humanity. And for the first time in years, Hwang In-ho truly felt the weight of his choices—the unbearable weight of his loss, his regret, and the knowledge that he had lost you too.

This was his Endgame.

-------- Author's note: last chapter.

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[metamorphesque]

BRIEFLY ABOUT WHAT'S HAPPENING IN ARMENIA

The present government of Armenia, under the leadership of the infamous madman Nikol Pashinyan, has made the decision to cede some Armenian territory to Azerbaijan, a neighboring country that has relentlessly waged war against Armenia for decades, leaving scars of loss and anguish in its wake. On April 19, the Armenian and Azerbaijani border demarcation commissions agreed to initiate border demarcation proceedings starting from the Tavush region. The delineation of the border sections will be based on coordinates clarified through geodetic measurements on-site, with completion expected by May 15th, 2024. Representatives of the Armenian Prime Minister announced that, as a consequence, Azerbaijan would gain control over 2.5 villages, purportedly leading to a reduction in security risks for the Republic of Armenia. This decision has been likened to extending a hand to a voracious beast in the hope that it will miraculously abandon its predatory instincts and refrain from further aggression. Those familiar with the historical tensions between these nations recognize this as the initial step toward Armenia's capitulation. Since April 19, residents of Tavush border villages, supported by demonstrators from across the country, have been staging protests along the Armenia-Georgia interstate road. Despite these protests, 35 border posts have already been erected along the Armenia-Azerbaijan border. Opponents of the border delimitation, led by Archbishop Bagrat Galstanyan, head of the Diocese of Tavush, are marching from Kirants—one of the affected villages—to Yerevan in an attempt to halt the border demarcation process. Archbishop Bagrat Sacrosanct previously declared that the movement would reach Yerevan by the afternoon of May 9, where they will present specific demands to the government. The participants demand an end to the concessionary policy and unilateral concessions endorsed by the government, which will, without a shadow of a doubt, endanger the safety of Armenians and Armenia as an independent country. Hence, every single one of us needs to be politically conscious. Who knows? Perhaps one day your leader, too, will decide to sell parts of your country to your enemy.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also Preserved in our archive (Daily updates!)

What if the pandemic safety net cobbled together in 2020 had been a new beginning?

What if when Joe Biden came into office in 2021, the Covid-19 safety net he was handed had become a new floor?

What if that was his baseline—and the newly elected Democratic president, sold by his most ardent supporters as FDR 2.0, had used our Covid-19 response as the bare minimum of a new social contract with Americans?

What if the caring nature of the best aspects of the US Covid response became the map for international relations—leading not just to international cooperation on infectious disease, but on matters of war, climate and genocide?

What if, instead of dismantling the vaccine-delivery infrastructure—which, at its height, delivered some four million shots in a single day—the Biden administration built upon and made some version of it permanent, so that everyone could easily get annual Covid boosters, annual flu vaccines, or get specialty vaccinations during outbreaks of unusual viruses (such as for mpox during the 2022 summer outbreak among queer men) whenever they needed it?

What if the viral surveillance and communication mechanisms utilized for learning about SARS-CoV-2, treating it and telling the public about it were being used to address H5N1—a virus which has been moving from birds to farm mammals to humans with so little notice that dead cows were killed by the “avian flu” and left on the side of a road in California’s Central Valley, as “Thick swarms of black flies hummed and knocked against the windows of an idling car, while crows and vultures waited nearby—eyeballing the taut and bloated carcasses roasting in the October heat”?What if the leaders of the Democratic party had used Covid as a blueprint to make a national platform based on care?

What if all the ways Covid had made clear how farmers, industrial butchers, kitchen staff and other food workers are the most at risk people amongst us to viral infection led to meaningful, permanent protections, such that they were much less likely to contract not just SARS-CoV-2 but H1N1, H5N1, influenza, or any other existing or novel pathogens?

What if all the all the ways Covid exposed how unsafe industrial food production is (for the workers who make it and the people who eat it alike) had triggered safety reforms, instead of having these warnings ignored and leading towards record numbers of safety recalls for e-coli, Salmonella, and Listeria?

What if an airborne pandemic had led to indoor air being as filtered, treated and regulated as drinking water?

What if everyone with a child was still getting a $300 check from the US treasury, so that having a child was not a gambling-style risk, but a responsibility shared with all of society?

What if the paused-for-years student debts were forgiven, so that young people could actually begin their lives?

What if Biden built on Americans’ experience of just showing up somewhere to get the medical care they needed to create a universal healthcare system?

(What if Kamala Harris built upon Americans’ taste of not getting charged at the point of such service—and campaigned on Medicare for All?)

What if once the link between Covid and homelessness was established, the Democrats had pushed infectious disease as just one reason for an end to evictions and a robust, public-health-backed campaign to end homelessness and stop the United States from having more people living on the streets than any other country?

What if after the link between Covid and incarceration was established, the Democrats had pursued decarceration as a public health measure and—instead of throwing weed and cryptocurrency at us—had made reducing incarceration a centerpiece of the Harris campaign to earn the votes of Black men?

(What if after 100,000 Californians died of Covid and the links between Covid, homelessness and incarceration were clear, residents of the Golden State chose to allow rent control and to abolish legal slavery in prisons—instead of voting to ban rent control and to continue prison slavery?)

What if the leaders of the Democratic party had used Covid as a blueprint to make a national platform based on care?

Would we be in the lethal position we are now—with a genocide raging abroad, Covid deaths in the hundreds every week at home, a poisoned food supply, $17 trillion in household debt, oligarch goons ready to dismantle government regulations, and a sociopath heading back into the White House—if Covid had been the floor?

[babbymochiiii]

🔞MINE: JOHNNY SUH

synopsis: 'you're mine, even if i'm not supposed to make you mine'; where you and your bodyguard have a heated argument while you're at the club with your friends. warnings: afab reader, bodyguard!johnny, "business relationship", reader is a public figure of some sorts, pwp, johnny being a meany, fingering/oral (f), p in v, hair pulling, cumming inside, nipple play, breast play, dacryphilia, multiple orgasms for reader, name calling (brat), sweet names for her (baby, angel), etc. author's note: @jsuh for the gif! @rookthornesartistry for the divider! this fic has come to life bc of a daydream i had due to me reading a bodygaurdxclient story 😖 and let's just say it's lowkey self indulgent just cause of the fact that it was a daydream *sweats* it was hot...so i had to share with yall. also, i'm still working on the lee line fic as we speak just the production of it is rlly slow for me at the point cause i'm hitting a big bump in the road for it. so please hang tight! word count: 4.6k

anon ask related to this post!

NOW PLAYING: 1. if i didn't know better by MACK LOREN 2. PROMISES by EMO

"Hey babes, just want to let you know that your bodyguard is staring mad hard over here." Your friend yelled over the booming music the club was playing as the two of you stood at the bar.   

Looking over your shoulder— just as she said— you can find your bodyguard with his bulging arms crossed over his chest as he sulks in the corner he is in while sending you a hard look from across the club.   

You rolled your eyes at him, before turning around at your friend as you waved a hand between the two of you, dismissing the topic of him entirely. "Forget about him. He's just mad I ended up doing what I wanted without listening to his security measures." You said to her as you rolled your eyes again.  

Your friend gave you an unnerving look before turning her expression back to her drink. "You know—" She stops herself quickly as she felt her face heat up at the words. "—it looks like he wants to eat you alive." She said as she took a quick swing of her fruity drink.   

You arched an eyebrow at her words before a laugh leaves your lips. Causing her face and the tips of her ears to turn red in embarrassment.   

"Are you serious?" You asked her as you chuckled at the silly accusation she made. 

"I mean, his eyes won't leave you no matter what. And on top of it he looked like he wanted to kill the guy that tried to buy you a drink earlier." She said as she played with the rim of her glass.   

You felt your heart thump harder in your chest at her words. But they were just that. Words. Nothing that she says can be true about your bodyguard. Johnny Suh. The bodyguard that was assigned to you due to your agency fussing over your safety because of some unknown person creating threats towards you.   

From the moment you first met, you have been awe struck at his appearance. The way he towered over you, the expressionless look on his face as he looked down at you, the way the black compressed shirt he wore hugged his fit figure, the black jeans he wore how they hugged his large thighs during your first meeting had you clenching your thighs together tightly as you felt yourself become attracted to him.   

No matter how much you tried to drown yourself in some company, or your own, he was always on your mind. Everything about him and the things you wanted to do with him. But you knew there was a border you couldn't cross with him. That was the rule...but who cared about the rules, right? They were meant to be broken.  

Thump, thump, thump.  

Your heart couldn't stop the heavy beating in your chest at the thought of him. You realized you haven't answered your friend and sought out your response as quickly as you could. "There's nothing there, for any of us." You tried not to sound as breathless as you feel as you responded to her. "Besides, it can be the number of fruity cocktails you've been having since we got to the club." You remarked with a smirk.  

"Hey!" She laughed as she gave you a playful shove. "They are good as hell, okay." She said as she downed the rest of her drink in one go. "Anyways, let's go dance!" She giggled as she took hold of your hand and dragged you to the middle of the dance floor.  

Deciding to go with the flow for the night, you followed your friend's lead and started to dance with her. As the two of you danced, having a good time and just laughing at one another over a silly dance move, a sultry song came on.   

You and your friend danced close to one another as you both felt the beat of the music course through your body, completely taking control over the two of you.   

Suddenly, you felt someone come up from behind you and wrap their arm around your waist and bringing you closer to them. The person tried to make you grind against them, but you weren't having it.   

You turned around and pushed at the man's chest. He held onto your waist tightly, refusing to release you from his hold.   

"Let me go fucker!" You yelled as you continued to push at him but all he did was smirk at you as you continued to try and push him away.   

"I believe she told you to let her go." A cold voice speaks out beside you.   

Chills rake through your body, as you look towards Johnny's towering form, as he looked towards the man holding you with narrowed slits for eyes. A warning before a reaction.   

"And what is it to you?" The man laughs as he tightened his grip on your waist, causing you to whimper out in pain.   

Nothing was said on Johnny's end at the man's remark, as he took hold of the man's bicep and held it in a vice grip. This caused the man to let go of you as he tried to pry Johnny's hand with his free hand.  

"Let her go before I fuck you up." Johnny says in a cool, neutral tone, as if this was any other night.   

"Man fuck—" the rest of the man's words were lost as Johnny sent a straight punch to the man's nose. The man wails in pain as he clutches to his now broken nose, where blood started to drip down in a cascade.   

"We're leaving." Johnny said as he took hold of your arm and started to drag you off the dance floor, and away from your friend.   

You looked back at your friend, to which she sends you a wide eye look as she didn't know what to do in the situation.   

"Let me go Johnny! I want to enjoy the night with my friend!" You yelled out as you tried to pry his hold off your arm.   

"It's not safe here and I'd rather not watch you dance with other people and drink yourself away." He said in a harsh tone as he pulled you down the secluded hallway the club has that leads you to the entrance/exist.   

"Fuck off, Johnny! I want to be here. You're always ruining everything! Why can't you let me be!?" You yelled as you felt your anger get the best of you.  

Johnny stops in his steps, before he slowly turns towards you with his own expression of evident anger. "I'm doing my job here. Stop being a fucking brat and listen." He seethed out as he started to walk closer to you, causing you to back up against the wall. He corners you with his towering form.   

"You never fucking listen to what I say to you. And look—" he said as he placed both of his hands on each side of your head. "—it gets you in trouble every. Fucking. Time. And who comes after you?" He questioned you.  

"You—"   

"Exactly. I'm the one saving your bratty ass."   

You were stunned into silence as you looked at the way he breathed heavily after his remark. You felt your chest move up and down to the same rhythm as his. You would be an idiot, if you tried to deny the way you felt a sudden rush of moisture collect in your underwear.   

The look he was giving you made you release a small gasp as you saw what your friend was telling you.   

Pure hunger.   

He looked like he wanted to eat you alive as you looked up at him. You felt your body quiver in chills that causes you to arch your back, causing your hardened nipples to graze lightly against his chest through your thin dress.   

Something seems to snap within him because before you know it, he's gripping the base of your neck and pulling you roughly against his lips.  

Nothing about the kiss was gentle at all. It was all tongue, teeth, and fighting for dominance. This kiss was pure pent-up tension between the two of you, that has been set in place since your first meeting.  

You wrapped your hands around his neck. Your hands tangled themselves in his long black locks as he pulled you closer to him. The sensation of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip causes you to moan loudly at the pleasuring pain that coursed through you.   

He pulled away from the kiss and placed his hand on your lower back. “Come with me.” He said in a low tone as he started to guide you to the club’s bathroom for a more private, and secluded moment.   

Once he held the bathroom door open, he gently pushed you in before he followed suit locking the door in the process.   

You looked up towards Johnny in a breathless state. The whole ordeal was dizzying. You can’t wrap your mind around the events playing in front of you right now. Johnny started to stalk towards you causing you once again to walk backwards until your middle back hit the bathroom’s counter. You looked behind you for a split second, to which Johnny takes the moment you are distracted to lift you up on the counter.   

His placement of his hands on your thighs causes goosebumps to rise and place themselves along the rest of your legs as you felt him gently pull them apart as he placed his body between them.   

“Do you know what you do to me?” Johnny asked as he looked at you with such intense heat that you swear his eyes were intense pools of brown. 

“I —no.” you answered weakly as you looked up at him with doe-like eyes that makes him curse inwardly as he continued his intense stare down.  

Without breaking eye contact, he takes hold of one of your trembling hands and places it on his very evident, aching cock that fights to be released from their tight hold.  

A gasp leaves your lips as you look down at where your hand is. With a trembling breath that escapes your lungs, you look up towards Johnny and see the same hungered look in his eyes.  

“This is what you do to me. From the first moment we met. You have changed everything I stand and believe in.” He purred in a low voice as he squeezed the hand that is on his clothed cock.  

You moaned quietly as you felt the way his cock jumped in your hand. With the way your chest was rising and falling at such a rapid pace, you could swear you weren’t breathing as you basked in the feeling that surrounded the two of you.  

You took your other hand and started to trace it up the arm that held onto your thigh. In the wake of your path, you saw goosebumps following your hand. You continued the path up his bicep and to his shoulder. Once at the top, you followed your hand as it slowly traced down his chest, where his racing heart was trying to escape his chest.   

Johnny started to trace small circles with his thumb in your inner thigh. It was as if a fire had suddenly gone ablaze within your very nervous system as it started to consume your whole being.  

“If we do this —” Johnny cuts himself off as he heard how breathless he sounded. Clearing his throat he continued. “If we do this, there is no going back. You are mine. No other man can touch you. Your body is mine.” He said as he placed his other hand on your thigh while pressing his hands into your skin. “—your pussy is mine. Do you understand?” He says as he leans down and traces your jaw with his nose. 

“Johnny...please.” You whimpered out as you felt yourself getting desperate for his touch.  

“Tell me.” He said as he tangled his hand into your hair.  

When you didn’t answer him back quickly — it was more like you were speechless in what to say to him, you were in awe — he pulled at the roots of your hair tightly, pulling your head back so you were forced to make eye contact with him. “Tell me, angel.”  

“I’m yours...fuck, Johnny I’m yours.” You cried out as you placed your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you where your lips grazed one another's.  

Without missing a beat, Johnny claims your mouth with the same feverish want. It didn’t feel like you were breathing at all as you let him claim your mouth. You felt the strands of his long hair tickle against your forehead as he presses himself further into you. Johnny’s hands release their hold on your thigh and move them to the bunched-up fabric of your dress. He pushes it up further, showcasing your black lacey thong. Along with the obscene amount of slick coming out from your entrance.  

Johnny’s fingers grazed along your clad folds causing for a moan to leave your mouth and for you to entrap your legs around his slim waist. You felt the sensitivity of your core race up through your body making it become such a high sensing feeling. Seeing the way, you reacted causes for a grunt to leave Johnny’s throat as he starts to cascade down your throat with bites and kisses.  

Distracted by the sensation on your neck, you’ve failed to notice Johnny pushing aside your underwear. The sensation of his callous fingers gliding in-between your folds, makes you pull away from the kiss with a gasp as you look down at him collecting your slick, lubricating his fingers before inserting two fingers into your waiting entrance.  

The stretch of his fingers was both pleasures inducing but brought some pain. Tears brimmed your water line as you tried to accommodate the feel of his fingers.  

“Cryin’ already? What are you gonna do when you take my cock?” Johnny teases as he starts to thrust his fingers in and out of your weeping cunt. “You’re gonna take it like a good girl. Right, angel?” He says as he started to thrust his fingers in faster.  

“Y-yes! Oh—” You moaned out as you felt his fingers start to jerk up inside of you, hitting the spot you deliciously.  

Still fingering you with the fast pace he has going, Johnny uses his free hand to scoot you closer to the counter’s edge where he then went down on his knees and used his mouth to suck on your clit.  

The sensation of his mouth wrapped around your clitoral hood, has you raising your hips off the counter and trying to get closer to his mouth as it made rockets go off in your nerves with a semi-scream moan.  

Not taking his mouth off of where he wanted it most at, he pushes your hips down back onto the counter, and holds them with his free hand. “Never tasted anything so fuckin’ sweet like this.” Johnny moans out as he bit his bottom lip while looking down at your spit-glossed clit and the way his fingers started to have slick cascade down them.  

You were so close to losing it — you were that close to actually losing it completely — he goes down on you again, this time moving his head side to side as his tongue sticks out, collecting all of your sweet juices. The feelings in your legs start to feel like mush as the tightening feeling at the base of your spine continues to build up.  

As if he couldn’t get enough of you, Johnny pulls you closer off the edge to where your hips almost completely hang off of the counter, as a deep husky groan leaves his lips as he felt you gush even more on his tongue. You took one of your hands and glided it against the strands of his dark hair, slightly massaging his scalp before giving it a tug.  

An approved groan leaves his throat as he pushes himself closer to you. His tongue gliding up and down your folds before probing at your entrance where his fingers continue to pump in and out of you. With his tongue joining his fingers, he felt your pussy pulse against his digits causing him to give you a smug smirk. “Such a cute heartbeat baby. Are you gonna cum on my fingers for me?” Johnny said as he looked up at you as he continued his delicious movements.

You gave him a delirious nod of your head as tears started to fall from your eyes at the sensation of being so close to your release.  

“Then come.”  

With just those two words, you felt the tether within you snap with your hips lifting up and your grip on Johnny’s hair tightening while a cry leaves your lips as you come.  

Johnny keeps thrusting his fingers slowly to help you through your orgasm, and with his tongue he laps up your release, leaving you all clean...for now.  

As you gasped for the much-needed air in your lungs, through your half-lidded eyes you see Johnny get up and unzip the zipper of his jeans. With a slight haste in his moves, he unbuttons his jeans and releases his weeping cock out of the tight hold they were in.  

His cock was such a pretty sight to look at. His tip such a flushed pink and leaking pre-cum, and the vein that pulses so meanly along his long, girthy length you felt yourself gush all over again as you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth.  

“Get off of the counter for me angel.” Johnny says in a gentle tone, but the command laid in the undertone.  

Doing as he says, you get off the counter and look up at him, awaiting what he wants you to do next. Both you and Johnny look at one another as each watched the way your chests rise and fall in heavy breaths. You watched the way your arousal and release glistened on his lips and chin. Seeing the way you looked at him made him subconsciously lick his lips.  

Ignoring the way his cock is begging to seethe itself inside of you, Johnny takes hold of your face with both of his hands, kissing you once more. He couldn’t get enough of how your lips tasted. You tasted yourself on his lips and you couldn’t get enough of it. 

Johnny pulls away from the kiss and pulls you around where you are facing the bathroom mirror. In the reflection you saw the way your makeup was running a little bit, and the way you looked so blissed out from your orgasm. The moment you looked up towards Johnny’s reflection, you felt yourself clenching around nothing. Lust, hooded eyes looked back at you through the mirror.  

You felt Johnny press himself against you. His warm and throbbing cock resting against your ass, you pressed yourself further into him. A groan leaves his lips as he looks down at the way your plump ass wants to suck his length in-between them.  

Johnny then leans in towards your ear, another smirk playing on his lips. “Be a good girl and take it, yeah?” He says as he takes the side of your ear into his mouth delivering a small nip causing chills and goosebumps to course through your body.  

You then see Johnny pull himself up, spit onto his hand before he guides it down to his length and pumps himself — getting it ready for your weeping entrance — all through the mirror. The fact that he was about to fuck you in front of mirror had your mind doing all sorts of somersaults as you edge towards that feral feeling growing larger than life in your chest.  

Johnny takes hold of the base of his cock and starts to align it to your entrance. He teases your entrance with his tip, slowly putting it in before he pulls it out. This causes you to whimper at his teasing, but all it does is draw a chuckle from him as he glides his cock in-between your folds.  

The fat of his head hits your clit in continuous glides that almost makes you see stars.  

“Johnny please —” you cry out as you hang your head down as you tried not to cry over the edging feeling he gives you.  

“Please what? Use your big girl voice for me angel.” Johnny teases as he continued his teasing.  

“Johnny please fuck me! P-please fu—” the rest of your sentence falls into a scream as you felt Johnny thrust his hard length into your entrance in one go.  

The burning sensation of the obscene stretch he gave you made your toes curl as he started to fuck you slowly, letting you somewhat get used to his size.  

“What was that?” Johnny laughed as he saw the way the lustful blush takes over your face and chest. You instantly felt yourself getting dumb on his cock as he pounded into you so meanly.  

The way your walls sucked him in drove the two of you crazy. You felt the way his vein pulsed within you that it made you clench down onto him. Johnny swore under his breath at the tight feeling you were creating around his pulsing length. 

“Fuck — keep clenching me like that angel and I'm not gonna last long for you.” Johnny said as he held onto your hips tightly.

Incoherent words fall from your lips as you savored the delicious feeling of Johnny’s cock gliding in and out of your sopping entrance. Johnny traced his hand up from its place on your hips and brought it to the front of your dress. He pulls the fabric down, causing your breast to spill out from their hold. Johnny takes both of your breasts and places them into each hand of his, giving them both a squeeze causing the two of you to moan. Johnny takes one of your hardened nipples between his fingertips and pinches it.  

Moan, after moan leaves your lips as the sensations your bodyguard is giving you. Behind the noise of your moans, you could hear the sound of skin slapping against one another and the squelching sounds coming out from your entrance.  

You felt a hand wrap around your hair and tug it backwards making you look into the mirror to already see Johnny looking at you with such a lustful look you honestly believe you could cum on the spot.  

“Look at me as I fuck this pretty pussy of your angel.” He speaks roughly as he continues to plough into you. “Look at how. You. Take. It.” Johnny emphasizes with each hard thrust into you.  

You bit your lips as you watched the way Johnny started to get lost within your wet walls. You saw the way his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he tossed his head back, relishing the feeling. It was like seeing a switch flip within his mind as he looked down at the connection between the two of you.  

Johnny's hair fell in his face and started to stick to his sweaty skin as he started to deliver merciless thrusts into your abused whole that it had you on your tippytoes.   

“Fuckin’ take it. Take it like the good girl that you are baby.” Johnny groans out as he heard your cry of how good he’s hitting your walls.  

Johnny snaked his hand around your waist and down to your front. His fingertips started to press down onto your clit and moving them side to side, causing you to moan out loudly.  

“Whose pussy does it belong to?” Johnny questioned as he continued his movements on your swollen clit.  

“Y-you — oh God!” you moaned out as he started to hit that one spot inside of you making you see stars. 

A jolted slap was heard in the room as Johnny’s hand came down on your clit with a sharp slap. A cry-like moan falls from your lips as you push yourself back against Johnny.  

“Whose does it belong to?” Johnny said again as he delivered three more slaps in a row to your stinging clit. 

“You! Fuck — you do Johnny!” you cried out as you started to feel the same tightness feeling at the base of your spine start to coil.  

“That’s fucking right. You're my baby. This pussy is mine. Let me find out you’re letting another man touch what is mine and I’m going to mess you up.” Johnny seethes as he pounded into you even harder than before.  

The repetitive sensation of Johnny hitting your spot within your walls makes you see double the stars than before. “I’m gon—” Without warning you started to come around Johnny’s length. You felt your body shiver at how intense the orgasm was. Your legs started to shake as you started to feel the overstimulation take its course considering Johnny hasn’t relented to his intense pounding.  

Johnny was so close to his release as he continued to pound into you even as you tightened yourself up. He continued to stimulate your overly abused clit, drawing cries from you. “Give me one more angel. Just one more for me.” Johnny said as he sounded restless trying to get that one last orgasm for himself.  

“Nngh! S-so full and—and big! Feel so good!” You cried out as tears started to fall from your eyes as the overstimulation started to take its course officially through your body.  

“That’s right baby, fuck — I make you feel so good.” Johnny said in between his teeth as he felt his balls tighten up, ready to release their load.  

“Where do you want me to come angel?” Johnny asked as he wrapped his hand around your throat, as he looked at your fucked out expression through the mirror.  

“Inside of me! Please, please, please.” You begged as you made eye contact with Johnny through the mirror. The way your eyes glistened with unshed tears, the flush on your face, the way your hair clung onto your sweaty forehead, and just the fucked outlook you were giving him was enough to make him blow his load inside of you.  

Strings of curses left Johnny’s lips as his stomach clenched and thighs shake slightly as he let go inside of you completely. The feeling of his sticky ropes painting your walls, caused you to go into your third orgasm of the night.  

As the two of you rode out your highs together, the weight of the situation between the two of you started to settle within the two of you. As Johnny pulled himself out, cleaning you and him in the process, a deathifying silence fell. You weren’t sure how to approach the topic. Do you say this was a one-time thing or are you guys actually together now?  

“What I said about you being mine —” Johnny says as he helps you straighten your dress out and clean a bit of the running makeup on your face. “—I meant it.” He says in a gentle tone.  

The moment those words left his words, you felt breathless at his slight confession. “Johnny I —”  

“Please spare me if you’re going to reject me after all this.” He said as he played with a lock of your hair. 

“I was going to say, I understood what you meant.” You said as you placed your hands on his chest, closing the slight gap between the two of you. “I don’t want someone else when I have you.”  

Johnny leaned down and you met him halfway where the two of you shared a passionate kiss, sealing the promise you have for one another.