#and ones where revenge is hollow

[foulfirerebel]

Heh. It's a reason why there's room for all kinds of stories, even those that say revenge is good or otherwise gives closure. I like that, frankly.

Never watched Princess Bride myself, but I'll give it a go when I have the time. Sounds brilliant if that's the case.

Anti-revenge narrative this, anti-revenge narrative that, I personally think that Inigo Montoya had the right idea when he stabbed Count Rugen in the gut and said "I want my father back, you son of a bitch"

[ozzgin]

Sorry to bother you, but the bodyguard post you did was just 🤤🥰😍 and I can't stop thinking about it day later

Have you ever seen Oshi no Ko? I'd love to see Bodyguard react to someone trying to do something similar as what happened to Ai.

Fans get wind their beloved idol might have feeling for her staff, so a crazed fan tracks down her private address. He plans to get revenge for "His idol cheating on him" but doesn't know there is a guard dog inside ready to bite any threat to his precious charge.

Sorry to keep ragging on about the topic, I just adore you work enough that it lives in my head rent free.

Happy holidays

-🌟

I sadly haven't seen Oshi no Ko, but your description sounds very interesting. Thank you for the idea! I've combined it with your previous suggestion, I think they work together really well. Happy Holidays to you, too! :)

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (II)

Your new manager has sent you home for the holidays after persistent rumors surrounding you and your bodyguard. And, as luck would have it, the fan responsible for the accusations successfully sneaks his way in. Sadly for him, you’ve never left the watchful gaze of your loyal, mean dog.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

content: female reader, violence, threats, mentions of stalking

(Cover from the manga “A girl and her guard dog”)

"Enjoy your holidays!" 

The driver cheerfully bids you goodbye and speeds away, leaving you behind the imposing gate. You drag your luggage inside and nonchalantly toss it with an annoyed huff.

What now? You're all alone in a hollow mansion. 

Early December you begun receiving worrying letters from a fan, making wild claims about you and your bodyguard. Naturally, you laughed it off. Your bodyguard found them equally amusing. So much, that he'd ask you to read them out loud as you rode him. "I w-won't stand for it. You know we ha-ave something special going on, (Y/N)-chan." You barely managed to form coherent sentences, feverishly clinging to the large man underneath you. "You heard the guy. Better be on your best behavior", he'd add with a chuckle, wiping the drool from your mouth. 

The new manager, however, wasn't as relaxed about it. He couldn't risk tarnishing the reputation of his beloved cash cow, so he suggested you take a break from personal assistants until the rumors tone down. If you remained within your expensively secured house, you wouldn't need any guarding. So, he caringly prescribed a dose of homely isolation for the upcoming holidays. 

"Don't be so dramatic", he said, "Jesus spent 40 days in the desert by himself. And he didn't have your indoor cinema or jacuzzi bathtub."

"Yeah, but he had the Devil to tempt him. Where's my bad guy?" You whined as a retort. 

You let out another groan and throw yourself on the couch, fiddling with the remote. Kind of them to decorate everything for Christmas, you think as you eye the gigantic kitsch of a tree slapped in the middle of the living room. 

Fuck. What an absolute waste of time. All because of one crazy fan. You almost wish he'd show his stupid face so your bodyguard could pummel it to bits and crumbles. You wonder what he's doing by himself. Is he going to be assigned to another idol? Probably not, two weeks is too short of a time for anything. You check your phone.

Suddenly, the screen lights up. A text notification. 

"Bored?"

Heh. It's almost as if he can read your mind. You smile to yourself and type your response, stretching onto the sofa. Your little back and forth messaging goes on until you look up and notice the room has gotten darker. Already evening. You can hear your stomach growl, so you get up and drag your feet towards the kitchen, searching for takeaway fliers. If you're going to be under house arrest, the least you can afford is junk food. 

Once you place your decadent order, you hop onto the counter and idly dangle your legs in anticipation. Your favorite off-duty guard dog has abruptly told you he needs to go and is now offline. "Something came up". What could possibly require his immediate attention? A mistress? You giggle at the idea. In all your time spent together, you haven't seen him glance at a single woman. If he must, he will engage with other people using one-word replies, visibly uninterested. You never considered him much of a talker, but his behavior with anyone else, in comparison, is downright hostile. 

There's a rustling sound and you jolt. Was the food delivered already? It hasn't been that long. You jump off the marble countertop and freeze in place once you see the man standing in the doorway. His face is concealed with a medical mask and he's audibly panting, the hot air fogging up his glasses. You notice the knife in his hand.

"How rude of you to cheat on me so shamelessly, (Y/N) dear."

Huh? Your eyes widen in realization. Was this the crazed fan bombarding you with threatening letters? Your features twist in utter disgust, still transfixed on the weapon within his grip. 

This little shit. Not only does he break into your home, but he decides to intimidate you with a department store kitchen utensil. Is that all you're worth? Is that any way to greet one of the top idols in this country?

You angrily pull the nearby drawer open and grab a long, sharp blade. The man tenses up and steps forward, but you stop him in his tracks, throwing the item at his feet. He stares at you, bewildered. 

"It's a Yoshihiro Sashimi knife. More than your monthly income, most likely." You state as you leer down at him, grimace plastered on your face. "Pick it up like the animal you are."

He cannot move. Is this his beloved (Y/N)? Her pretty, innocent smile and sparkling eyes have been replaced by this hateful scowl. He feels like a cockroach about to be stepped on, a mere vermin invading her personal space. This can't be right. It's him that should be upset, he's the betrayed party. When has she gotten so...Ah. This must be the work of that bodyguard. He's always known. The way he looks at her, with a predatory glint as if marking his territory. He should've noticed earlier. Poor, sweet (Y/N), at the hands of a brute. Tears form in his eyes and he opens his mouth to speak up, but a burning blow assaults his back and everything goes black. 

Your bodyguard casually walks in and lifts the intruder up by the nape of his neck. 

"Are you okay? Did he touch you?"

You blush and wipe your eyelashes dramatically, releasing a gentle sob from your puckered lips.

"Touch? He almost killed me! I was so scared...I thought I was done for."

He frowns at your words.

"I'll take care of it."

You can feel the familiar knot forming in your stomach. As he drags the body out of the kitchen, you follow behind enthusiastically. 

"Do it in the living room!" You almost squeal.

"Are you sure? It will get messy. I'm not letting this one walk out." He warns you with a worried expression. 

"Yes, yes!" you nod, all bubbly. "Right here, next to the Christmas tree."

Once the gory spectacle is over, the bodyguard sprawls onto the sofa, exhausted. He exhales loudly and runs a hand through his hair. You are about to join him, when a thought crosses your mind. 

"Now that I think about it, how did you know I was about to be attacked? That was some really extraordinary timing."

Out of reflex, he palms his pocket to check if his phone is still within his possession. Thankfully he hasn't left it in plain sight. You squint suspiciously. 

"Are you spying on me or something?"

He remains quiet for a few moments and eventually lowers his head apologetically, avoiding eye contact.

"Forgive me, Miss."

When he glances up again, your small figure is looming over him.

"Wow, what a pervert you are." You push his chin up with your dainty fingers. "How will you make it up to me for such nasty habit~?"

"Is there anything you want me to do?"

"Good boy."

[crystallinestars]

How They React to Your Death Part 2

I am back with more Genshin angst. Somehow, I feel like this part isn't as sad as the previous one, but it might just be author's bias.

Part 1 can be found here.

Characters: Gorou, Baizhu, Zhongli, Diluc, and Tighnari

WARNING:

Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details

🐕 Gorou

Gorou had always harbored reservations about your participation on the battlefield. He had taught you how to fight upon your request and having fought many battles side-by-side, Gorou knew you were a capable fighter. But despite this, a part of him always worried about your safety. He couldn’t help it; he loved you too much to risk losing you.

He tried to keep you safe by suggesting you stay behind in Watatsumi and help Kokomi with strategizing, but this resulted in arguments between you. His ears flattened and his tail sagged like a scolded dog’s when you said you wanted to protect Watatsumi and its people since they were your home. Plus, you didn’t want to stay behind and anxiously wait for news from him just to know if he was still alive. Gorou had no comebacks to your points and could only sigh in resignation and apologize.

When the Watatsumi troops joined another battle against the Shogunate’s forces, Gorou trusted you to handle yourself. He had to believe you could because he couldn’t always protect you amid the chaotic battlefield. However, he forgot that there was more than just your life he needed to worry about. His own was at equal risk.

While fending off several opponents, Gorou didn’t notice an enemy sneaking up behind him until it was too late. Turning around, Gorou found himself with no time to react as the Shogunate soldier thrust his spear forward, prepared to impale the Watatsumi General through the chest. Gorou heard you shout his name, and then suddenly you appeared in front of him, intercepting the lethal blow. The strained little gasp of pain you let out as the weapon tore into your flesh ingrained itself into Gorou’s memory. He remained frozen in place, eyes wide with horror and disbelief as he watched you collapse to the ground.

Unfortunately, the enemy soldier gave him no time to come to your aid. Having retracted his spear, he aimed it once more at Gorou. Seized by panic, Gorou made quick work of the Shogunate scum before falling to his knees beside your figure.

The wound in your chest looked deep, as evident by the copious amounts of blood that seeped out from under your armor. He knew the situation was bad and that you might not even make it, but he tried to reassure you that he’d get you to a medic and you’d be fine. Despite his attempt to stay calm, internally he was panicking. Your eyes already looked unfocused, as if you couldn’t perceive the world around you. Gorou tore off the fabric of his pants and tried to bandage your wound to stave off the bleeding, but paused when you reached a hand up to touch his cheek. Your fingers were icy cold.

“Go…rou,” you croaked, your voice almost inaudible over the sounds of screaming and clashing metal of the ongoing war. Then, your hand fell away from his face, and you went still, your gaze hollow. Gorou called your name in a wavering voice. He repeated it several times and grasped onto your shoulders, begging you to respond to him, to please give him a sign that you were still with him.

You remained unresponsive.

Despair squeezed his heart like a suffocating vice, but he could not spare time to grieve for your passing. The battle was not over, and the Shogunate soldiers closed in on him once more. Reluctantly, he left your body where it was, and buried his anguish beneath a layer of anger and a desire for revenge.

That day, Gorou felled more enemies than he’d ever defeated in previous battles. He was ferocious, almost beastly in the way he slayed his opponents with a bow, teeth, and claws. It was a rookie mistake to let his anger blind him in his quest for vengeance, but Gorou couldn’t control the urge. He could either be a slave to his anger or let his sadness consume him to the point where he had no fight left in him. So, he fought.

Despite the losses Watatsumi suffered during the fight, Gorou’s army managed to win and push back the Shogunate forces. Once the fighting was over and the injured were rushed back to camp, Gorou made his way back to where your body lay in the blood-soaked ground amid the victorious cheers of his remaining men.

He knelt beside you and hugged your cold and stiff corpse in his arms tightly. He didn’t say a word, only closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as his shoulders shook in an attempt not to cry. There was a familiar stinging in his nose, and his vision blurred, but he refrained from crying. He couldn’t return to his men while looking like a weeping mess, because seeing their ever-confident and reliable General crying would shatter the soaring morale of their victory. But if anyone happened to look in Gorou’s direction, they’d see his hunched-over figure cradling you to his chest, while his ears drooped and his shoulders shook.

The days that followed were a blur. Gorou’s army returned to Watatsumi to recuperate and brief Kokomi on the results of the battle. Gorou was heralded as a hero for the fierce way he fought and brought victory for their cause, but the Watatsumi General couldn’t bring himself to feel happy. He tried to put on a smile and congratulate his men for helping to win the battle, made speeches to keep morale up, and oversaw the training of future soldiers. Life kept him busy, but there was a distinct hollowness to it now that you were gone. Before, he would take breaks from training to eat lunch or dinner with you, take walks by the beautiful beaches of Watatsumi, or hide away in your shared home and let you brush his tail much to his delight. Now… there was only an empty void.

When night fell and Gorou found himself lying alone in bed, he would surround himself with articles of your clothing that still carried your scent, and cry. When there was no one to see him fall apart, he would break down and cry hard while whimpering your name until sleep claimed him.

These crying fits only stopped when Kokomi approached him one day. She still looked composed and refined as always, but Gorou could see the sadness in her eyes that had become more prominent ever since she learned about your death. You were her dear friend, after all, and it pained her to lose you. She handed him a letter and explained that it was something you wanted her to give to Gorou in the event you perished in battle.

When Gorou fished out the letter and read the first few sentences, tears welled up in his eyes. The way you wrote to him was as if you were right there, speaking directly to him. He could almost hear your voice as you apologized for leaving him so early, but you were always prepared to give your life to him, Kokomi, and all of Watatsumi because you loved them so much. You told him to not let his grief consume him because you wanted him to enjoy the life you fought so hard to protect. Above all, you would be happiest if Watatsumi remained safe under his and Kokomi’s guidance.

It took Gorou several tries to read the letter since the tears blurred his vision, but once he calmed down, he found that the anguish in his heart lessened, if only a little. It would be a long road to come to terms with your death and not being able to enjoy life with you anymore, but for your sake, he will try. And maybe one day, once his own time comes, Gorou will tell you all about how Watatsumi overcame the war with the Shogunate and flourished in the following years, just as you hoped.

🐍 Baizhu

Baizhu is Liyue’s best doctor. He boasted a hefty record of healing patients with even the most obscure and difficult-to-treat illnesses, giving hope to the sick that they still had a chance to lead normal and healthy lives. But for all his amazing healing abilities, there were illnesses that even Baizhu could not cure. The day you died served as a stark reminder of his limitations.

You’ve been ill with a rare and mysterious illness ever since you were little. You had difficulties breathing, often coming down with severe coughs, and your body was weaker than normal, so you couldn’t participate in physical activities with other children. When the illness got particularly bad, you were left bedridden due to how weakened it made you. Worst of all, no cure for it existed. No matter how many doctors looked at you, nobody could figure out what caused your illness.

When you grew up, your condition worsened, but you had a shred of hope. Your parents heard about the amazing healing abilities of a doctor in Liyue, and your family traveled all the way to the Harbor in the hopes that Baizhu could cure you. To his chagrin and your disappointment, he could not. Even Changsheng’s powers couldn’t transfer your illness to him. Whatever disease you possessed was a result of your genetic composition, which made it all the more difficult to treat. The best he could do was concoct a medicine that staved off your symptoms, but it was by no means a cure.

Since then, you frequently came to Bubu Pharmacy to get medicine. Against all odds, you had become close to the doctor during your many visits and eventually became his lover.

Baizhu did all he could to search for a cure, not only because you were his patient, but also because he genuinely loved you and didn’t want to watch you suffer. However, despite the many late nights he spent researching and mixing various medicines, nothing helped you long-term. The best he could do was curb your symptoms for a time before you became resistant to the medicine and felt worse again.

The more time passed, the worse your body deteriorated. At first, you struggled to do any strenuous activities, so you resigned yourself to walking and not lifting anything heavy. Then walking became difficult, so Baizhu took the time to come visit you at home and give you new medicines to try in the hopes of getting you back on your feet. You would always smile and thank him, saying that he was better off focusing on his other patients, but Baizhu hated it when you said that. It sounded like you had given up on getting better. Even if you doubted you would live for very long, he promised he would find a way to cure you.

The doctor genuinely believed he could help you. It is a doctor’s job to heal the sick and save lives. No matter how impossible the task seemed, he believed there was a cure for your illness somewhere out there, it just needed to be discovered. But before he knew it, your condition got worse to the point that you coughed up blood and became bedridden, barely able to lift a spoon to feed yourself.

Baizhu experienced a rare panic, and spent all of his free time at your bedside, tending to you and giving you various medicines in the hopes of finding something that stuck. As the days passed and you continued to worsen, Baizhu still refused to give up. You had to get better eventually. You had to. Even as your breathing became weak and you could barely hold your eyes open or speak due to your feeble state, Baizhu refused to face the reality of your impending death.

Utilizing all the medicinal supplies and his knowledge, Baizhu continued to try and treat you. When that didn’t work, he tried to split the burden of your suffering by transferring some of the illness to himself using Changsheng. He would not—could not—give up. Even when your hand went limp in his, even when your breathing stilled and your pulse flatlined, even when Changsheng pleaded with him to stop, Baizhu didn’t pause in his desperate attempts to get you to open your eyes and smile at him again. Not until all his medical supplies were depleted and your body had grown cold.

He still refused to accept your death and his failure. If traditional medicine and Changsheng can’t help, what if a higher power intervened? What if you became a living corpse like Qiqi? Perhaps with the blessing of an adeptus, you could be brought back to life and continue to live together with him like before.

Hearing his deluded mumbling, Changsheng had to snap Baizhu out of his spiraling thoughts by reminding him that Qiqi’s case was special because she was still alive when she was granted an adeptus’s blessing. Her words cut him like a knife, for as much as Baizhu didn’t want to lose even this little shred of hope, he knew Changsheng was right. There truly is nothing that could bring you back.

At that point, Baizhu had to face reality. You were gone. Your illness ended up claiming your life despite his efforts.

That night was a rare time when Changsheng saw Baizhu weep. The doctor silently cried as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, and apologized over and over for being unable to save you. He failed you both as a doctor and as your beloved, and the guilt ate him up inside.

Despite how firmly Baizhu believed that he could save everyone in need of his aid, deep down he knew it was improbable. Some injuries and illnesses were beyond saving. But out of all the people he couldn’t save, why did one of them have to be you?

Ever since the night of your passing, Baizhu slept poorly, plagued by guilt and self-loathing for not being the perfect doctor. The one person he wanted to save most, to spend the rest of his life with, was gone all because he wasn’t skilled enough.

Back when you were alive, he promised to create the elixir of immortality and get you to be the first to try it. He dreamed about a happy future where you, Changsheng, himself, and everyone else could all lead happy, healthy lives. But he was too late, and that promise was left broken, just like his promise to marry you one day.

Despite the tragedy, Baizhu tried to move on. His patients needed him. There were still so many lives he needed to save, so he couldn’t give up now. He tried to smile through the pain and work as usual, but even Qiqi could see how sad his smiles were. He is filled with longing whenever he thinks of you, as well as the ever-present guilt that never faded no matter how many years passed. Despite how painful it was for Baizhu to remember you, he held those memories dear to his heart. As short as your relationship had been, it was a truly special connection he knew he would never have with anyone else.

In the distant future, Baizhu will dedicate years of his life to researching your illness and developing a cure. Though the medicine won’t bring you back to him, he finds a bit of solace in knowing that no one else will have to lose their loved one to the disease the way he did.

🔶 Zhongli

Zhongli always knew you would die before him. You were a human, after all. Your lifespan was but a blink of an eye for his 6000-year-old existence.

When you expressed a desire to be in a long-term romantic relationship with him, Zhongli made it very clear that he was an ancient supernatural being who had lived thousands of years, and would live thousands more even after you die because his lifespan was unlike yours. He wondered if this would discourage you from pursuing him, but it did not. After carefully weighing the facts, you remained steadfast in your resolve to build a future with him, and he couldn’t help but admire your determination.

The decades you spent together were some of the happiest Zhongli ever had. You gifted him new memories and experiences of the simple, relaxed life he always wanted ever since he stepped down from his position as Liyue’s Archon. Drinking tea at the teahouse while chatting about his extensive knowledge on various topics, participating in festivals, hosting small gatherings to meet his adepti friends, and getting married were just some of the things you did together. Life was peaceful yet eventful, and Zhongli felt a sense of fulfillment from it. Being able to enjoy the fruits of his thousands of years’ worth of labor felt rewarding, and doubly so since he got to enjoy it with someone he loved.

As the years passed by, Zhongli noticed how your skin gradually developed wrinkles, and your hair gained new white strands. He knew you were getting older, while he still retained that ever-youthful appearance of a handsome young man. To avoid suspicion from the public, but most of all, to appease any insecurity you might have about growing old, Zhongli manipulated his appearance to age together with you. Each year, he added more wrinkles to his skin and grayness to his hair to match the speed of your own aging.

You were surprised when you first noticed these changes, but Zhongli could tell you appreciated his efforts. You had appeared downtrodden about growing older, while he still looked the same as the day you first met him. Now, you seemed more at ease, though he could still catch glimpses of sadness in your eyes. After all, the fact he had to manually age his appearance was a constant reminder that he was not human and that you would have to leave him one day.

As you grew older still and your body developed aches and pains that usually came with old age, Zhongli helped you through the difficulties. He did the more strenuous work around the house, supported you during walks, helped you read text you could no longer see clearly, and fetched your medicine from Bubu Pharmacy to keep your ailments at bay.

Despite the differences that came with you growing old, Zhongli never loved you any less. Everything about him was as constant as the bedrock of Liyue itself, and his love for you never wavered. Even when your beautiful, youthful looks faded, and he had to take care of your frail body, he still loved you just as much as when you first became a couple, if not more. He loved the person you were on the inside more than what you looked like on the outside, and in his eyes, your beauty never faded.

However, it still pained Zhongli to see your lovely hair grow white, and your body weak. It meant that death would come for you soon, and you would have to part ways. He knew it was inevitable, but a part of him silently pleaded ‘Not yet. Don’t go just yet, please stay a little longer.’

As you reached your late 80s, your health grew worse to the point you spent most of your time at home. Both you and Zhongli could tell that your time would come any day now, but you said that you were prepared. You got to live a long, happy life and had no major regrets, so death didn’t scare you. Rather, you have grown to accept it.

Zhongli would stay up late at night in bed with you to watch your sleeping face, trying to ingrain the memory of your features and of being together into his mind, because he knew each night might be the last.

One night, Zhongli woke up to the sensation of your life force growing faint, until it completely disappeared. He didn’t need to check your pulse to know you had passed away since he felt it. Your spirit was gone. His heart sank at the realization that this was it. He would no longer get to hear your voice, see your reactions to his stories and affections, or make new memories with you.

Zhongli had lost countless friends and companions throughout the Archon War. He was used to death and saying goodbye, but each time was no easier than the last. The weight of loss settled heavily on him because, despite the years he spent mentally and emotionally preparing for your death, it was still difficult to sit there beside your lifeless body and accept the fact you were gone. There were still so many things he wanted to experience with you. It was truly unfortunate that your human lifespan was so painfully short.

Zhongli took your limp hand in his and held it for a while as his mind went through your shared memories together. In his memories, you were vibrant and lively, the opposite of how lifeless you appeared now. With the part of you he loved most gone, all that remained was a body of flesh that appeared almost like a stranger. It made him miss you, but also helped in coming to terms with your passing.

He mourned for you throughout the night, up until the sun rose above the horizon.

Zhongli took part in arranging your funeral. He carefully supervised every step of the process to ensure your funeral was perfect, and that you were given the proper respect in your journey to the afterlife. Once you were laid to rest, he found himself wandering around aimlessly most days. He walked along the same paths the two of you used to take strolls on, visited your favorite locations in Liyue Harbor, and frequently brought your favorite food as an offering to your grave.

At the teahouse, Zhongli sat at the same table where you always had your dates and stared at the empty seat where you used to sit. He could picture with perfect clarity how you used to sit in that same chair and give him your undivided attention when he recounted tales of times past, and he always loved it when you did. Now, he could only stare off into the distance while reminiscing about the good times he shared with you. Though Zhongli was saddened he couldn’t make more memories with you, the ones he did have made him grateful that you had been a part of his life.

🦉 Diluc

Diluc met you shortly after you arrived in Mondstadt with nothing but a satchel of mora and the clothes on your back. You said you came to the nation of freedom in the hopes of starting a new life but never disclosed any details about your past. Though he was curious about the life you led prior, Diluc learned to let it go. After all, Mondstadt was home to many people with mysterious backgrounds and origins, so what’s one more?

During the months you spent together, you had both fallen in love with each other and began a courtship. Diluc knew with certainty that he wanted to marry you, so one fateful night, he got down on one knee before you and presented a golden ring topped with a piece of garnet. You said yes, and Diluc felt the happiest that night than he had in a long time, not since his father’s passing several years ago. Now, he was looking forward to having a family again.

After Diluc lost his father, Adelinde and Elzer were saddened by the drastic change in their Young Master. Diluc used to be so optimistic and passionate, brimming with the desire to become a knight and help people. After Crepus’s death, he had become closed off and aloof, becoming bitter at the corruption running rampant within the Knights of Favonius. However, with your arrival at the estate, Diluc seemed to slowly warm up and smile more, and the senior servants couldn’t be happier by the positive change. They hoped that your union would heal their Master’s wounded heart.

Initially, Diluc didn’t plan to host an engagement party, but his butler Elzer convinced him to go through with the Ragnvindr family tradition. With your agreement, Diluc hosted a ball and invited prominent figures in the business world to attend, most of whom he worked with. During the party, he introduced you to his business partners, making idle chatter and receiving congratulations on your engagement. Everything seemed to be going well, albeit a tad boring, until the two of you were approached by an unfamiliar man in a lavish suit.

The man said he was an acquaintance of yours, and sure enough, you seemed to recognize him. However, the way your posture stiffened, and the color drained from your face set Diluc on edge. He wanted to reject the man’s request to speak with you in private, but you interjected and agreed. Diluc didn’t want to leave you alone with someone who made you uncomfortable, but the pointed look you gave him made Diluc hold back his protests. With great reluctance, he let you go.

He was anxious the entire time you were gone, unable to fully focus on the business conversations and propositions he was discussing with some of the guests. To his great relief, you returned safe and sound, albeit with a troubled expression on your face. Diluc made a mental note to ask you about what happened once the ball ended.

The man you spoke with didn’t reappear that night, and the party came to a successful close after plenty of eating, drinking, and dancing.

Later that night, you fell sick. You were vomiting and sweating quite a bit, and at first, Diluc thought you had food poisoning. However, when he noticed you were vomiting blood, panic surged through him. You were poisoned.

He called his servants and asked them to fetch a medic, but your condition continued to deteriorate quickly. In mere minutes, you were unable to stay standing and were gasping for breath, so Diluc laid you down on the bed. Tears streamed down your cheeks while you apologized to him, as if you knew you were going to die and why. As if someone intentionally poisoned you.

Diluc tried asking for more information, but by that point, you could barely breathe, much less get a word out. All you did was futilely gasp for air while gazing at him with eyes full of remorse and fear.

Diluc didn’t want to think about the possibility of you dying because the mere thought opened old wounds that never fully healed. But as he watched you slowly suffocate; it triggered a surge of fear in him. This scenario felt so familiar. It reminded him of how Crepus died. Due to the Fatui’s schemes, his father had disintegrated into nothing in his arms, leaving him and Kaeya alone to pick up the pieces. He couldn’t do anything to save his father then, and it frustrated him that he couldn’t do anything for you now, except sit there in fear and despair. Diluc gently took your hand in his, both for your comfort and his, and you clung to his hands like a vice. Despite Diluc’s empty reassurances that you’ll be alright, that the medic is on his way, you had passed away in front of his eyes with a pained expression on your face. The sight of your last moments made his stomach churn.

As he sat beside your body in the dark room shrouded by night, his thoughts shifted to the reason behind your death. You were poisoned, but why? Did someone do it to try and get to him? He did have many enemies, after all. Then, he remembered the suspicious man that had terrified you so much and couldn’t help but think the secret lay with him. Whatever the case, Diluc swore to get down to the truth of the matter.

He gently removed the engagement ring from your finger and hung it on a chain around his neck to always keep with him as a memento. A reminder of the future he was robbed of with you, and of your life which was taken far too early and cruelly.

News of your poisoning spread to the Knights of Favonius. Jean organized an investigation team to catch the culprit and bring them to justice, but Diluc knew it would take them too long. Even after the Knights had improved their ethics with Varka, Jean, and Kaeya at the helm, Diluc was still reluctant to leave everything to them. He insisted on investigating the matter himself. After many weeks of searching for clues, and even partnering up with Kaeya, Diluc managed to find the truth behind your murder. It infuriated him. You were once a Fatuus but had defected from the organization and ran away to Mondstadt to start a new life. You wanted a life where you were free to live the way you wanted, instead of being forced to commit atrocities in the name of the Tsaritsa. But nobody leaves the Fatui alive. Your superiors had found you and sent a Fatuus to infiltrate the ball. After you resisted their attempts to coerce you to return, sometime during the party they spiked your drinking glass with poison, which was how you perished. You were killed for wanting to live your life for yourself.

The injustice behind your death pushed Diluc on a quest for revenge. He swore upon the ring hanging from his neck that your murderers would atone for what they did. After delegating the running of the Winery to Elzer, Diluc packed necessities and embarked on a Fatui hunt. Over the next few months, he diligently searched and hunted down every member of the Fatui squad that killed you. He refused to take breaks, searching day and night for the exact location of the perpetrators and planning his revenge. He had tunnel vision that wouldn’t go away until his mission was completed. Diluc successfully slayed every Fatuus involved in your death. None were spared. Once his mission ended, Diluc returned to Mondstadt, but he became colder than before, much to Adelinde and Elzer’s dismay. He was more stoic and aloof than before, rarely smiling or expressing any emotion. He completely closed himself off, not allowing anyone to get close. Diluc had lost too many people he loved and didn’t want to grow attached and experience another potential loss. Sometimes, Adelinde would catch him sitting idly by a window and staring outside with a pensive, almost sad expression while twirling the ring around his neck. Elzer would spot Diluc standing by your and Crepus’s graves in the light of dawn, presumably after returning from another patrol around the city. Diluc would stand there for a while with his head lowered, looking so lonely and defeated, before heading inside the manor.

Diluc would never find someone new to love, of that he was certain. He will continue to wear the engagement ring around his neck up until the day he dies, and when he does, he hopes he will be buried alongside you and his father. If he cannot be with those he loves in life, then maybe he can be with them in death. Until then, he will push on and continue to live, blazing a path of justice to protect the citizens of Mondstadt so that no more victims end up like you and his father.

🍄 Tighnari

When a mother reported her child had gone missing within a withering zone in the Avidya Forest, Tighnari immediately dispatched a search and rescue team.

As a fellow forest ranger, you wanted to come along to help look for the child. Tighnari knew you were fairly capable of handling yourself despite not having a vision, but just to be safe, he paired you up with Collei. After all, it was already dark, and who knew what dangers lurked within the afflicted forest.

Right before you and Collei set out to search your assigned part of the forest, Tighnari told you both to stay safe and vigilant. Never did he think the reassuring smile you gave would be the last time he would see you alive.

He managed to find the missing boy before the withering got to him, and escorted the child back to camp for a checkup. As time passed, the other rangers returned, but you and Collei were nowhere in sight. Just as Tighnari was starting to get worried, Collei rushed over to him, out of breath.

In a panic, she explained that your pair had run into a hilichurl camp within the withering zone, and were chased by hilichurls through the forest. She got separated from you in the dark, and wasn’t able to find you again despite searching for a while.

Tighnari fought to stay calm as he rushed towards the location of the withering zone, and stopped when he saw your figure collapsed on the ground just outside the boundary. His heart dropped at the sight, and he quickly knelt beside you to check your vitals.

You had no pulse.

Tighnari felt like he was dreaming, as if he was watching someone else kneeling beside your body. That this wasn’t real. But as he looked at your glazed eyes which stared off into the distance, never once looking at him, reality set in.

You were dead.

Once he accepted that fact, Tighnari’s heart felt heavy, as if weighed down by an anchor.

You had tried to find your way back to camp, but having spent too much time in the withering zone, and not being a vision holder, you had inevitably succumbed to its effects just as you had gotten out of the zone. A pang of guilt welled within his chest. If he had paired up with you instead, or assigned you a different area to search through, would you have made it out alive? These thoughts looped in his mind and wouldn’t leave Tighnari alone.

When he returned to camp a while later, the rest of the Forest Rangers saw him carrying your body with a grim expression on his face. The fact Tighnari wasn’t asking for immediate medical assistance, and the way his ears drooped low, were all the rest of the Rangers needed to know you had died.

The guilt persisted like a phantom all throughout your funeral, and the days that followed after as he tried to keep it together. Breaking the news to your parents was difficult, but Tighnari forced himself to be the one to tell them. He was prepared for their devastation, and subsequent angry accusations for not protecting you like he promised. For once, he didn’t sass back, but rather quietly accepted their hatred. He believed that they had every right to blame him. After all, Tighnari was the one who was supposed to keep you safe, both as the leader of the Forest Rangers, and as your lover.

Tighnari never thought he would miss you as strongly as he currently did now that you were gone. It was nothing new for you to go days without seeing each other because he sometimes had to go to Sumeru City to give lectures or conduct botany experiments in Pardis Dhyai.

But this time was different. This time, he knew he would never see you again.

Never again will he come home to be greeted with your smile, and he missed the warm feeling that filled his heart back then. He missed your voice, the way you pet his ears and tail, the meals you brought him when he was busy with work, the letters you wrote to him when he was out on a trip… he missed you.

Some nights, he would wake up with tears in his eyes, filled with longing for the happy dreams he had about you. But they will forever remain only dreams, taunting him with a life he can no longer have because you’re not here anymore.

You will never return, and Tighnari was left with a heavy feeling in his chest that refused to completely go away no matter how many years passed. He will always regret sending you out with Collei that day.

He threw himself into his work to distract from the ache in his heart. The thought of someone else dying to the withering like you did scared him, so Tighnari made it his mission to eliminate all the withering zones in the forest. He never wanted something similar to happen to anyone else, and it was the only way he thought he could atone.

[lutorao]

Doffy 🦩

Doffy being jealous over Luffy, is my fav moment

let me explain okay?

here we go

Doffy knew every single thing about Law

how he survived, his backstory, his history, his goals(this is debatable cauz his goals changed after Cora's death) and etc.

Law was a traumatized child who had lost everyone and everything. He believed that he only had 3 years left to live, so he had to experience everything in those three years.

he lost his parents, his sister, his friends and everyone

Doffy was a man who had experienced hunger, the kind that gnawed at your bones and left you hollow. He had known the anguish of losing a parent, the primal fear of death stalking his every step, and the burning rage that only betrayal and abandonment could ignite. Doflamingo was no ordinary tyrant; he was a man molded by pain, and that pain had birthed his relentless hunger for power and control.

Law reminded himself of this truth every time he thought of the man who had once loomed over him like a god. He had seen that rage firsthand—the seething fury of someone who had lost everything and now sought to take everything from others in return. Doflamingo wasn’t just a warlord; he was a survivor who had clawed his way to the top, dragging anyone he could down into the depths with him

And then one day he finds out that Law created an alliance with who? with Luffy

Doffy had high hopes for him

But Law had walked away. He had chosen someone else.

Doffy couldn’t forgive that.

For all his power and charisma, Doffy was a man who demanded loyalty to the point of obsession. Law’s betrayal wasn’t just a practical blow; it was a personal insult, a rejection of the twisted connection they had once shared. And worse, Law had chosen him.

Monkey D. Luffy.

A man who embodied everything Doffy scorned. A fool with reckless dreams, an idealist who sought freedom in a world where freedom didn’t exist.

So yes he got mad,of course he got,he was confused. law isn't someone who trusts people that easily. he was confused because he chose luffy, why him? why luffy? why he trust him that much?

What could Law possibly see in him? Doflamingo had given Law purpose, power, and the means to enact his revenge. Luffy had given him… hope? Friendship? Law could almost hear Doflamingo’s sneer as he thought of it: "I made you. I saved you. And you abandoned me for him?"

Why did you choose him, Law?! I thought you were a smarter man than this!" The anger in these words isn’t simply about the alliance; it’s deeply personal. Doflamingo prides himself on understanding people, bending them to his will, and shaping them into extensions of his vision. Law choosing Luffy is, to Doflamingo, proof that he misjudged Law. Worse, it highlights Doflamingo’s own insecurities his inability to inspire true loyalty beyond fear or manipulation.

Doflamingo’s jealousy stems from this realization. Law’s choice wasn’t just about strategy, it was about rejecting Doflamingo’s way of life in favor of something he could never offer: trust, camaraderie, and a vision of a world not ruled by fear. For a man like Doflamingo, who thrives on dominance and sees relationships as tools, this rejection is both infuriating and incomprehensible.

he was still here, thinking about him, right?

"do you remember the first day we met law?"

imagine how annoying this was for him

Doffy was the man who taught Law how to fight. Doffy was the man who killed his own brother because his brother "betrayed" him. Now imagine how disappointed, angry, and hurt he must have been when he discovered that the person he had placed so much hope in—the one he thought would one day become his right-hand man, whether to exact revenge or fulfill his own ambitions—had chosen someone else. A pirate. Someone for whom Law had risked everything in the middle of a war to save his life. And if that wasn’t enough, now an alliance? Against him, no less. Many believe that Law used Luffy. Really?

Does this pannel really look like he was using him?

And as strange as it may seem, Law truly wasn’t opposed to the idea of Luffy using him instead.

How crazy must a person be?!

I mean look at is face

"using? who's using whom...?

As if that wasn’t enough, he also entrusted Luffy with his deepest secret—Corazon. He preferred to die alongside Luffy rather than live without him. And on top of that, he worried about him? Is the alliance over? What are you doing here?

Law, get a grip—you’re being far too obvious!

A man who had no faith, who trusted no one, suddenly shares his deepest secret with someone else? Oh, Law… And to place his hopes in him, of all people? Yet, look at how confident and happy he is every single time Luffy declares he’ll become the Pirate King. He was like, “That’s my boy.”

(from anime btw)

and I don’t know if it’s because of Cora, maybe even Luffy, but it’s clear that this character’s development is undeniable, right?

Thank u

[xo-hoon]

𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝘆𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝘆𝗲 — p.sh

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: revenge, angst, smut, fluff

synopsis: Sunghoon nurtured a profound animosity towards his childhood friend, Lee Heeseung, blaming him for his sister's death. To Sunghoon, his sister was the only person who had genuinely loved him, making Heeseung's perceived betrayal unforgivable. This deep resentment sparked an intense desire for revenge, driving Sunghoon to extreme measures to achieve it. But to what extent would he go to find satisfaction in his vengeance against Lee Heeseung? Would his plans unfold smoothly, or would everything take an unexpected turn, throwing his schemes into something he didn’t expect.

word count: 7k

warnings: swearing, kidnapping (kinda), possessive hoon, mentions of death, fake marriage, depression.

an eye for an eye: part 1 - masterlist

The familiar feeling of emptiness flooded his body. Sunghoon’s eyes were lifeless as the they gazed at the coffin where his sister’s remains lay.

This was the same feeling he had when his father’s mistress left him at his biological father’s mansion.

He felt the coldness of his father towards him. He felt the hatred of his father’s wife. He saw disappointment in his grandparents’ faces.

He was unloved and unwanted, it was a no brainer.

For a six-year-old child, it was all too much to take. When he was living with his mother, he was treatedlike shit. And when he lived with his father, there was no difference at all. It’s no wonder why he became wary of people. He wouldn’t want to talk to anyone, nor be in the same room as them. He would only go out to eat and return to his room to lock himself up. He even thought back then that his existence was big bad joke.

But one day, a girl with the same dark brown eyes as his went inside his room and forced him to leave the house and drink up some sunshine. He had no other choice but to follow the girl because she would never let go of his hand.

Truth to be told, Sunghoon found the girl irritating, he wanted to hurt her. But when she said that she was his sister and that she would protect him from all evil, he was left speechless. Because for the first time in years, there was a person who wanted to protect him. Her older sister’s smile made him cry, not because of sadness, but because of happiness.

He let out a hollow laugh. He will never see those smiles of her sister ever again. Those good old times would now be just a mere memory.

He slightly turned his head when he heard someone familiar talking behind him. Sunghoon’s jaw clenched as he stared at the cause of his beloved sister’s death, Lee Heeseung. His bestfriend and her sister’s boyfriend.

With heavy feet, he stood up and approached the guy and his father who he was talking to.

“You’re not welcome here, Lee Heeseung. Leave” His voice was hard and heavy.

“Park Sunghoon!” His father reprimanded.

“Uncle, can you please give us a minute? We’re just going to talk.”

“If you want to explain what happened, then let me tell you that you’re just wasting your time.” He said, blankly, not showing an ounce of emotion to the guy in front of him.

“Please, Sunghoon, listen to me. I didn’t want all of this to happen. I-I’m sorry.” Heeseung sounded so pathetically contrite, making him want to vomit.

“So you want me forgive you just like that, Heeseung?” He sarcastically remarked. Heeseung shook his head with a sigh and looked at Sunghoon with pleading eyes once again.

“I know it was partly my fault, and I am also hurting, Sunghoon. You know how much I love your sister, and I wouldn’t ask for this to happen.”

“You wouldn’t ask for this to happen?” He sharply retorted what the guy said. “It was the middle of the fucking night, yet you asked her to go out riding in your stupid car. You asked her to leave even if it was already late. Clearly, you asked for this the happen! You are the reason why my sister is lying there!” He lashed out, pointing at the coffin where her sister���s lifeless body lie.

“It was our anniversary! I invited her out because I wanted to surprise her!” Heeseung’s left hand balled into a fist he was sure the right one would do the same if it weren’t in a sling due to the accident.

“Yeah, and because of that stupid surprise, my sister died.” He saw the look of hurt in his best friend’s eyes, but the pain that he is seeing wasn’t enough for him. He wanted to beat the shit out of Heeseung and kill him with his bare hands, but that would be too easy.

“I didn’t know that a drunk driver would appear and hit us! If only I knew… I-if only I knew…” Heeseung’s eyes reddened with pain.

Sunghoon’s greeted his teeth, turning away. “Leave.”

“Sunghoon, please….”

“Just leave!” he hissed. “Leave and don’t ever show your face to me ever again.” He said in a serious tone.

“Sunghoon?” He was quick to turn his head towards the source of the voice. There stood Y/n, standing next to Heeseung as she anxiously glanced back and forth between the two. “Why would you say that to my brother?”

His lips pressed firmly with a stern expression. “Because his idea of a pleasant surprise is a bad joke.”

That was all he said before returning to his seat. He didn’t bother to look at the two again, and he wasn’t able to see Y/n’s eyes widen in surprise. He only heard the faint farewells of the two to his father.

Once again, Sunghoon confined in his own lonely world. He feels like he was cursed and happiness was forcefully denied to him. Losing his sister who helped him break free from his dark world was painful.

Losing a friend that he considered a family was painful.

Losing the woman he had learned to love was painful.

In just a snap, he lost the people who gave color to his world.

10 years later…

The service crew was very attentive, Sunghoon noticed. The place was modern and cozy. He hadn’t taste any of the pastries yet, but they looked appetizing. All in all, the bakeshop was pretty impressive. There’s no wonder why a lot of people go here.

On the other hand, it was quite a surprise that he’s in the shop. This was the first time he set foot in this place.

He wouldn’t bother to come if it weren’t for something important, especially since the owner of this bakeshop is the sister of someone he despises.

Yes, he knew you owned this place.

Your town is small enough for him to not know that. So, why the hell would he choose to meet someone in your haven of all places? There was a ninety-nine percent chance of him seeing you there. But what can he do about it?

His ‘oh so noble father’ commanded him to meet with the girl he liked for him. Obviously wanting him to settle down already. And because that he is the only son of his beloved father, he has no right to oppose to it.

He felt his phone rang and he answered.

“Yes?”

“Hey, Mr. Park.”

Said the girl on the other line. The voice sound forcefully seductive it sounded cheap to his ear.

“May I know who’s on the other line?”

Sunghoon asked lazily and almost rolled his eyes.

“This is Shin Yuna. I’m the one you’re meeting at the bakery in town.”

His eyes went searching for a woman who was on the phone, probably speaking with him. At the door he saw a woman wearing a tight-fitting yellow dress. The woman had a phone pressed to one ear, her eyes scanning the inside of the shop. Looks like she was the one he’s waiting for.

He ended that call once her eyes landed on him. Evidently, she’d recognize him. A sensual smile appeared on her bloody red lips and she started walking towards him.

He should feel lucky because the woman was a catch. Her skin was smooth and fair, she had shiny, long hair. And in his opinion, aside from her hourglass figure, the girl’s flawless legs were her best asset, free from any scars.

She was gorgeous all right. But it doesn’t have an impact on Sunghoon.

Yuna must be one of those girls who are pretty on the outside, empty in the inside. Beautiful but annoying and boring.

He stood up as the girl approached. He offered his hand but she didn’t take it. Instead, she leaned to give him a kiss on his cheek. Okay, he wasn’t at all shocked by that.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Park” she greeted

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss Shin.”

“Please, call me Yuna.” She said with a wide almost flirty smile. “Then call me Sunghoon.” He motioned her to the seat in front of him. “Please, have a seat.”

“Thank you, have you ordered anything yet” she said as she sat.

Sunghoon shook his head. “Not yet, I was waiting for you. And it’s my first time here, I don’t know what food to choose.” Her hand rested on his arm and he wasn’t born yesterday to not know that she was openly flirting with him.

“Oh Really? You should try their famous gyeran-ppang. It’s a fluffy loaf of bread with a whole egg inside. It’s really good, I suggest you try it.”

Sunghoon suddenly remembered you, gyeran-ppang was your favorite ever since. Be it sweet of savory. He didn’t expect that those two could be brought together.

“If you liked it, maybe I should try it.” He simply said, trying to push away the memories. Yuna’s eyes sparkled, and he wanted to roll his eyes, but Sunghoon retrained himself. What was an hour of enduring this infront of her, right?

“Okay, I’ll just go to the counter to order, since this is a self-service shop.” Yuna said as he noticed a slight frown on her face. “I hope next time they hire waiters here so customers won’t have to go to the counter to do the job.”

Ah, he knew it.

His assumptions were correct, the girl only visually pleasing. Deep inside, she was a typical rich brat. He found his father’s taste in girl quite funny.

“It’s like hitting two birds with one stone. The service would be aster, plus it would provide jobs for jobless people. That way, more customers would go here, and it would reduce the number of unemployed people.” She annoyingly added further.

God help him stop himself from sneering. As if he’d believe that shit. What could this girl possibly know about work and helping other people?

“Yeah, you’re right.” He answered dryly. “I’ll order, I’m the guy here and I should be the one treating you and taking care of things.”

She sweetly smiled at him once again. “Why, thank you, Sunghoon. I’ll have two gyeran-ppang and one iced coffee. And please ask for a fork and knife while you’re at it.”

“Alright.” He gave her a small smile and quickly stood up, immediately walking his way to the counter to escape his date. He wished the serving of their food would last longer, but the workers in the shop were indeed good at what they do. In less than six minutes. He was back at his table with Yuna waiting for him.

“Go ahead and try it.” She urged him to sit down as their order was served. He took a bit of the gyeran-ppang and he instantly knew why it became popular in the area.

“It’s good right?” He simply nodded in response. Yuna then picked up the bread knife and fork that he requested earlier and used them to eat.

“Why use a fork and knife? It’s a finger food.” He couldn’t help but to ask.

“Oh, eating it with my fingers would be a mess, and my lipstick would smudge if I eat it directly.” Sunghoon avoided raising the corners of if his lips.

“I see. I’m surprised that you eat food like this and have that kind of body.” Yuna let out a shy laugh at his statement.

“I’m very conscious with what I eat, but when I tried this a few weeks ago, I forgot the diet. I even bought boxes of it for the orphanage that we were helping, And the kids loved it too.”

She was trying to impress him by mentioning the word orphanage? Would it be a bad idea to laugh? Or was he being too hard on this girl? After all, what did he know about Yuna? He didn’t even bother to make an effort to find out about the girl’s demeanor before coming here. Is her values really worth his time? Sunghoon bit his lip to stop himself from commenting something he’d regret saying later on.

Sunghoon glanced at the entrance of the bakeshop and he swore he felt his heart pounded. A pang of nostalgia when he saw a familiar figure arrive.

You were like an angel minus the wings and the halo. You were wearing a simple with dress that gave you sweet and innocent look. He didn’t expect that you would become even more beautiful than you are over the years. Your rosy white skin was flawless, he longed to touch it. Your lips were full and naturally pink. He almost tasted those once and he suddenly had this urge to kiss you.

He sighed forcefully, everything about him was cold earlier but he felt so damn hot in an instant just by seeing you. He wanted to own you, he wanted to make you his.

Sunghoon felt his heart race at he continued to stare at your face, feeling the rush of warmth in his body.

The beautifully scattered moles on your face made you look more unique ang exquisite to him. Back then, Sunghoon thought he could spend the rest of his life just by looking at your lovely face. Your beautifully sculpted brown eyes with thick and long lashes were still bright and full of life. He wanted to lose himself one day while looking at those hypnotic vivid orbs.

You walked you way towards the counter and greeted your staff with a bright smile.

The sun’s heat was nothing compared to the warmth of your smile. You were like the sun, only brighter, with inky black hair shining.

Now that’s his kind of pretty. You would always be his kind of pretty. Your beauty was ethereal, it was second to none in Sunghoon’s eyes. He mustered all his strength to look away from the person who evoked such emotions from him.

He tried to put his focus on the person in front of him, but his eyes would occasionally wander back to you.

“So, what are you busy with these days?” He heard Yuna asked him.

“Work, I guess.” He shrugged. “We export high quality mangoes to our neighboring countries.”

“Oh. Yeah, my parents and I visited your mango farm once. And I must say, your place is very refreshing.”

“Thank you, how about you? What your work?” He asked to have something to talk about, not because he wanted to know.

Yuna took a sip of her iced coffee before responding.

“I’m an interior designer, I often have famous celebrities as my client.” She said, feeling proud. “You know that one actor in squid game? He was my last client. Tell you what, his mansion was large, so I was very happy that I got the project.”

He tried his best not to look bored.

What does he care about celebrities? He hadn’t even watched this movie that she was talking about. But he needed to endure all this for two reasons. First, he didn’t want to be rude no matter how his inner demon wished to be. And second, to distract himself from your presence.

His only problem now is how will he hide himself from the owner of this bakery.

—

“Hey, Ning. How are you all doing?” You asked your worker working on the cashier as you entered the counter.

“We’re doing fine, Y/n. It was a bit of a hassle earlier because there were loads of customers, but it was overall doing alright. I mean, what’s a little hassle when you can earn profit, right?” Ningning said, smiling widely.

You giggled. “Yes, true. Sorry for being late, I wasn’t able to help you here. I just had something to take care of back home.”

“No, Y/n. It’s all good, you’re the boss here after all. You don’t have to worry about a single thing, we got you.” She said reassuringly, smiling softly at you.

“Yeah, Y/n. Besides, we know you’re going through something tough right now. How was everything anyway?” Sunoo, your amazing barista, asked. You sighed deeply before answering the young man.

“It’s not settled yet, our ranch is still a mess.”

“Oh, Y/n. Don’t be down like that, you’re going to get through everything sooner than you think.” You just smiled a Sunoo’s statement.

You needed money to rebuild the barn. You needed to hire new workers to manage the ranch. It could all be solved with money, but the problem is you don’t have much of it.

Ever since your parents died few years ago, your brother took over the management of the estate.

But what can Heeseung do when half of his life was into car racing? Even you don’t know how to run a ranch because your job is making different kinds of delicious bread. Before you and Heeseung could even realize it, the inheritance your parents left you both was slowly falling apart.

And now you and your brother wanted to save the precious land. You would give all the earning from the bakeshop just to make it work, but it was just wasn’t enough. You and Heeseung tried going to the banks, but they turned you down every time you tried. Your brother doesn’t want your house or land as collateral.

You were thankful for the people working for your shop as they wholeheartedly give you their support.

“Thank you for comforting my, guys. Don’t worry, if everything settles down, I’ll definitely throw a party.” They all cheered as you smiled.

You went out to fix the displays in the counter. You didn’t notice someone passing by, making you bump into them.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized, realizing that you bumped into a woman. She quickly brushed off the area you bumped into and gave you a sharp look.

“Next time, watch where you’re going.” She turned to look at the person next to her and whispered.

“Sunghoon, let’s go?”

You felt like you were turned into stone and it looks like Sunghoon felt the same way. It seems like he was frozen in place where he stood, his gaze solely fixed on you.

But it seemed like you’re mistaken because when you looked closely at the man, his face had no expression at all.

He had changed, but not really. He was still the same Sunghoon. Only stronger, leaner, harder, darker, and more attractive. It scared you, he scared you. Yet, you wanted to reach out and talk to him. But to your utter dismay, he just walked past you. And before you knew, he was long gone. Again.

Sunghoon kept telling himself that he was not a stalker, but it had been five days and this was his fifth time your bakeshop. He just couldn’t go inside. So for those five days, he contented himself with parking in front of your shop, and watching from inside his car.

When he saw you again, he had a big idea in mind, and yes, that was the reason why he kept going to your bakeshop. Sadly, he would always go home without seeing you.

He couldn’t help overhearing the conversation between you and your employees. Their table wasn’t that far from the counter so it was inevitable. He was surprised that you didn’t notice him right away. But if Sunghoon were to talk about surprising things, what he heard was even more surprising.

It looked like karma found its way to Lee Heeseung. He should be happy about it and somehow, he was.

Heeseung took something from him, someone important, so Sunghoon should take someone important from him too.

A sister for a sister. An eye for an eye.

He glanced at his watch and told himself that this should be the perfect time. He got out of his car and walked straight towards the bakeshop. It was already past eight o’clock, but the bakeshop was still almost full.

He noticed the two service crew he saw last time, staring at him, but they immediately turned their backs on him. He approached them.

“Told you, the person inside the black car that is always parked in front of the shop isn’t a bad person. Look at him, he’s too handsome to be a bad person.” He heard the girl he assumed the name was Ningning.

“Seriously? Just because someone isn’t physically attractive doesn’t mean they’re a bad person, you know? And not everyone who looks good is automatically good. You’re being too judgmental.” Sunoo rebuked.

“And what thing could he possibly do, huh?” Ningning asked sarcastically.

“Hello? Ever heard of the saying ‘looks can be deceiving’?” Sunghoon tried not to smirk. Because their backs were facing him, they weren’t able to notice him approaching a while ago.

“Excuse me?” He said, gaining attention from the two. Ningning turned around, her eyes slightly widened.

“Yes, Sir? How can we help you?” Despite the surprise, she quickly regained her composure.

Sunghoon gave her a slight smile. “Um, I’m looking for Y/n. Is she here?” He noticed the two exchanged glances as Ningning seemed a bit hesitant before responding.

“May I ask what’s your relation to Miss Y/n, Sir?”

“I’m a friend. I’d like to have a word with her.”

“Miss Y/n is still in her office.” He saw her co-worker elbowed her, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. “If you’d like, you can have a seat while waiting for her.”

“Okay, Thank you.” He said, walking around the shop to find a comfortable seat. And he couldn’t help but to overhear their conversation once again.

“Friend? Then why am I just seeing him now?”

“I don’t know. He seems nice to me even though he looks a bit harsh.”

“Oh well. Good thing Jake is not here or else he might get jealous.”

For some godforsaken reason, he found his heart tightening at the name he just heard. Who was this Jake guy that might get jealous over him? Is it your Suitor? Boyfriend? Fiance? Sunghoon clenched his jaw. Just imagining another man touching a strand of your inky black hair made him feel sick.

He sat on an empty table near the counter and patiently waited there.

“Ningning, Sunoo, I’m leaving. Will you two be alright staying?” Said the enticing voice near the counter. He glanced over and saw you there.

“Call me whenever something happened, alright? I’ll get going.”

“Oh, Y/n! someone is looking for you.” Ningning said before she forgot. Your brows furrowed as you looked Ningning with a puzzled expression.

“Who?”

Sunghoon stood up and spoke. “Me.” He watched your eyes grow wide with shock as he walked towards you. “Can we talk?”

“I… Of course.” You absent-mindedly nodded. You pointed at the room where you came from. “Let’s go to my office.”

The air tensed up the moment you both entered your office. You sat on your chair as Sunghoon took the visitor’s chair. His eyes were trained on your face while you were looking down on your lap. No one dared to speak. It was dead quiet inside the room, a silent standstill.

Sunghoon decided not to make rhings more awkward. “It’s been a while Y/n.” Great, you suck at opening conversations, man. He honestly wanted to smack himself.

You looked up and your eyes met. “Yeah, it has been a while. How are you?” You slightly smiled at him.

“I’m doing great. You? How are you? I heard your having problems at the ranch.” He paused at what he said. It made him wonder if he was rushing the conversation.

“How did you know?” You asked hesitantly. “The town is a small place, Y/n.” She firmly pressed her lips together. For someone sweet and innocent-looking, you could be fiery too.

“Yes, there’s a big problem at the ranch, but it would be solved in no time.”

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow at the intensity he heard in your voice. “According to what I’ve heard, you were having troubles finding the money needed to fix things on your ranch. So, I came here to offer a proposal.” He leaned on the chair and watched your confused face. You were always this transparent, it’s likely that you now think he’s going crazy.

“What proposal?” You asked with confusion written all over your face.

“I will lend the money you need for the ranch, but you have to marry me.” His simple answer seemed like he was just inviting you to go out ang have a picnic. You looked at him with an unreadable expression before you respond.

“I’m going to what?!”

“You heard me.” He knew it was unnecessary because she could always reach him if she wanted to. But Sunghoon still took a business card from his wallet and placed it on the table.

“I want you to think about it. Call me whenever you made up your mind.”

You stood up from your seat and looked at him with hard eyes. “If you’re just playing around like you used to do, just leave, Sunghoon. Don’t waste my time.”

He also stood up to remind you of the significant height difference you both had.

“I’m not fooling around, Y/n. I’m dead serious.”

“Then why? Why would you want to marry me?” You asked, still stunned be his offer.

“For revenge, I guess? I’ll lend your dear brother the money to help with the recovery of your ranch. But after that, you will cut ties with him. You can’t meet him nor even talk to him.” He took a deep breath before letting out the next heavy words.

“He took my sister from me, I will take you away from him. It’s my kind of revenge.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Oh, yeah?” He smirked but once again quickly turned serious. “Whose fault is that?”

“Why would you think would I agree to that?” You tilted you chin up, trying to defy him. Too bad, it was futile. The corner of his mouth went up again. “Because you’ve got no other option.”

“You’re insane.”

“Crazy? Insane? Well, maybe you could come up with something more colorful after this.” He grabbed your nape and captured you sinfully pink lips. The table wasn’t able to hinder him from giving you something that would shake your world.

—

Your heart was pounding as you proceeded to enter your house. You still couldn’t believe what just happened thirty minutes ago. The Sunghoon whom you secretly love, and the friend who suddenly left you and your brother returned to shake up your world once again.

One slap wasn’t enough for what he did to you. And he has the audacity to be the one walking out after his recklessness.

You touched your lips. Until now, you still feel the young man’s kiss and the warmth of his lips brushing against yours. It was a shocking first time and definitely a memorable one. But despite all that, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

You took a deep breath before walking to the kitchen to get something to drink. But on your way, your gaze drifted towards the study room. The room was slightly ajar. You approached and entered.

You saw your brother sitting on the swivel chair with his eyes closed. He looks beat and tired and it pained you. If there’s only something you could do to help solve this problem, you had already done it.

Then it hit you. You could do something to help you dear brother and fix the problem. Only, there was a price to pay.

It has already been ten years since Sunghoon’s sister died. Maybe it’s time for you to do something to make him forgive your brother and move on. Maybe you could at least give him a bit of happiness, maybe you could do something to bring him back to his old self.

You glanced at your brother. Please, trust me on this.

It would be hard, you knew. But you needed to do something to save them all.

“We’re here,” Sunghoon announced. “Nervous?”

You looked out the car window and surveyed the grand mansion that would become your new home. Your heart was racing, and you felt like your heartbeat was at one hundred and seventy bars per minute. You felt nauseous, your hands were badly sweating and you were having a hard time breathing.

No, you weren’t nervous. You were having an anxiety attack.

Sunghoon unbuckled your seatbelt before holding your face with both hands, waiting for to look into his eyes. His eyes were dark and sensual. Nope, it didn’t help you calm down a bit.

“Are you okay? You look pale.” He asked with concern in his voice. He felt your forehead and neck as if checking if you had a fever.

You felt electricity ran through your body because of his touch. Feeling as if you were burning, you pulled away from him and averted your gaze somewhere else.

“I’m fine. It’s just that, this was all so sudden.” You noticed his expression darken from the corner of your eyes.

“Then get used to it because you’re my wife starting today.”

Before you could even respond, he already exited the car and opened the passenger side door for you. He took the duffle bag containing a few pieces of your clothes. He then held your hand as you both walked towards the mansion.

“Don’t be so stiff, Y/n. There’s no way I would hurt you, you know?”

You knew Sunghoon was telling the truth, but it wasn’t enough to calm you down. He wouldn’t hurt you, he said. Still, he had the power to, especially now that you were married.

It all happened so fast. Just last week you were still a Lee, and you still couldn’t believe that you are now Mrs. Park.

After that night, you went to your bakery and called Sunghoon the next morning. And a week later, you were now married. No entourage, reception or whatsoever.

After the civil wedding with the judge that Sunghoon knew, you went straight to the mansion, you didn’t even manage to say goodbye to your brother who was currently not in korea.

At the mansion’s door, you were both greeted by Aunt Chul, the house keeper. Sunghoon and his sister had nannies when they were children, but they remained closest to the woman.

“Dear!” Aunt Chul greeted you as she gave you a warm hug, then gently held your face as she pulled away.

“How are you? It has been so long and you grew beautifully, Dear.”

Despite everything, you were able to put a happy and genuine smile on your face. “Thank you, Auntie. I’m doing great, and you?”

“Oh, I’m not getting any younger, dear! I think I can count the remaining black hairs I have left.” The woman joked, laughing slightly.

“You still look great, Auntie.” You smiled at her, shaking you head slightly.

“You’re still the same old playful one, aren’t you?” she teased. “Now come get inside, I prepared you both something to eat.”

She turned to Sunghoon and looked at him. “Let me take that bag, son.”

“Oh, no. We can handle this, Auntie. Thank you.” He said embracing the elderly person.

“My wife and I are just going to have a talk before we eat.” You froze when you heard him say the word ‘wife’. Yes, there’s no mistaking it. You really are Park Sunghoon’s wife.

When you glanced at the woman, there’s not a trace of surprise marred her serene face, which puzzled you.

“Alright, you know where to go when you two want to eat.” She smiled softly.

Sunghoon guided you upstairs to the room where you’re staying.

The room was definitely Sunghoon, very neat and manly. The walls were painted white, accommodating the rich hue of the big bed and built-in cabinets. Everything was well placed and clean.

“You may find my room dull and boring.” He said as he placed your bag on the side of the dresser. “But you may refurnish it however you like. Have the walls painted, the curtains changed. Just don’t put too much pink.”

You blushed at what he said, you were a girl who has a deep obsession with color pink ever since. And it seems like he still remembers that about you. But as much as you wanted to renovate the room and make it appear more your style, you wouldn’t do so. You liked the room as it was.

You didn’t notice Sunghoon approaching, so you gasped when you felt your husband pulling you by the waist closer to him.

“Let’s talk.”

“Y-yes, of course – Sunghoon!” You let out a small scream as the strong man lifted you up, and you had no choice but to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“Sunghoon, what the hell are you doing?”

“I was supposed to carry you over the threshold, but I knew that you would snap at me if Aunt Chul sees us.” He answered with a gorgeous grin on his face. For a minute, he looked like the boy you used to know.

The guy you used to love.

But no matter how handsome the young man appeared to you now, you still couldn’t stop the seething the anger in your heart towards him.

“And you think I wouldn’t do that now? I did that once before, I could do it again.”

“Oh, trust me. I’m more prepared this time.” He said with a twinkle in his eyes. He dropped you onto the bed and hovered above you. You gasped for air when you felt his hard body on top of yours. You were sure that when you entered this room, the AC was on, but for some reason the air became thick and hot and filled with desire.

“I t-thought we’re going to talk?” Your voice was shaky and far different from you challenging voice earlier.

“We are. We’ll talk like this.” He lowered his head and nestled into your neck. You had never been intimate with any man. This was new to you. Your heart was beating wildly and you afraid Sunghoon would hear it.

You felt so warm, it was as if your bones were melting. It felt good to be this close to him. And he had been hugging you for a while now. He was the only man who could make you feel extreme emotions.

“I told them about us.” You heard him mumble, his hot breath licking your cold neck.

“You… what?” You asked, disoriented.

“I told everyone in this house about us. Even my dad that’s currently in Japan.” He lifted his head and looked at you as if you as if he wanted to know what you were thinking, if not to absorb your very soul.

“You told them about our agreement?”

“No, I only told them that we were getting married. That I couldn’t wait about Dad’s arrival. That we saw each other again, and instantly fell in love. So make sure to be a loving wife to me, especially in front of them.”

As if he needed to say it. “Of course. But I hope you don’t forget about the other part of the agreement. The money, Sunghoon. I need it.”

“I didn’t forget about that. I’ll give it to your brother as soon as I see him.”

“Glad to hear tha—“

Sunghoon slowly lowered his head, your eyes widened. “Wait, what are you-“

“You’re mine, Y/n. Including your body.” He said with his tempting mouth.

You wanted to stop him and tell him to stop what he was doing, but no words came out of your lips. Instead, a sound coming from your stomach halted your husband’s advances. You didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or thankful. You were saved, not by the bell, but by your tummy.

God! Sunghoon didn’t need to smile, amusement was in his eyes.

“Maybe we should eat first.” Sunghoon withdrew from being pressed against you, stood up, and extended his hand towards you.

“Come.” You hesitantly took his hand and stood up as well, feeling quite embarrassed.

“Do you still know the way to the dining room?” He asked as you refused to meet his gaze, just nodding in response.

“Do you mind going there alone? I just needed to call someone. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

You just nodded again and quickly left the room. Usually, after the wedding comes the honeymoon. Or in your case, funnymoon.

—

The moment you—or rather, his wife—stepped outside, Sunghoon finally let go of the smile he had been holding back.

Yes, you had become matured and become tough over the past few years, but in many ways, you still hadn’t really changed. You were still funny, cute, adorable, and his.

His previously bright face was now replaced by a blank expression. Finally, Heeseung would experience what it was like to lose someone important to him. The only difference is that no one would die.

He wouldn’t hurt you, at least, not intentionally ang physically. Never. Heeseung was still lucky that Sunghoon had some semblance of a heart left.

All he wanted was to emotionally torture him. He would make his heart bleed in sorrow, until he would beg him to stop.

And that would start now.

He picked up his phone and dialed a number. On the third ring, the person he was trying to reach answered.

“Yes, hello?”

His grip on the device tightened upon hearing the voice of the man he despises.

“Heeseung.”

He could taste the bitterness in his own voice. The man on the other line wasn’t able to respond immediately, so he continued.

“I heard you’re not in korea right now.”

“No, I’m not. What do you need, Sunghoon?”

He asked directly, without preamble.

Nothing, you’re the one who’s going to need something from me.

“Nothing, really. But if I were you, I’d go back to korea right now.”

He could already see the furrow on his former friend’s face. Soon he would face his range, but instead of being afraid, he would actually be glad to see it.

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s Y/n. She left your house and she’s with me now. Too bad you weren’t there when she left.”

It was a shame for Sunghoon the he couldn’t see firsthand how the person on the other line is reacting.

He bet it would be priceless.

“You son of a bitch. What did you do to her?!”

He heard the grinding of his interlocutor’s teeth making him chuckle sarcastically.

“You asshole!”

“Yeah, Heeseung. Curse me all you want, but I’ll make sure that you will never get see your sister again. I will make you pay for all the things you did. Prepare yourself because I will take you to the hell you put me through.”

He ended the call. With his hands shaking, he exhaled sharply. He forced himself to calm down before he began to walk out of the room.

Maybe he shouldn’t have gone to the dining room just yet. He’s still feeling the anger coursing through his body, and he didn’t want anyone to see him like that, especially you.

But when he saw your beautiful face with a smile plastered on it while chatting with Aunt Chul, the heavy emotions enveloping him suddenly dissipated.

While looking at you glowing face, he lost the bitterness and pain that he had been feeling. Your bright smile simply made the pain go away. He was certain of what he was feeling. About his fear ang pain going away.

He took a deep breath once again ang approached the two, specifically you. He leaned down and kissed you on the forehead, disregarding the watchful eyes of the elderly person nearby.

“What are you two talking about?” He asked. Aunt Chul smiled at him and seemed to chat with him like a child.

“I never knew Y/n had a bakeshop in town. If I’m not mistaken, one of the helpers bought the bread I liked there. Turns out Y/n was the owner.”

He sat beside you and held your hand, giving it a tight squeeze. “Yeah, her pastries and sweets are indeed famous in town.” He stated, smiling proudly.

“Y/n also told me the she hasn’t had a boyfriend. She had suitors, but didn’t accept any of them.” The woman gossiped.

“Auntie!” You playfully reprimanded the her.

Sunghoon threw a glance at you. “Oh?”

His face lit up, secretly smiling to himself. So it was likely that the guy named Jake whom your employees were referring to was you suitor. He suddenly felt relieved. He glanced at your plate that is still empty.

“You haven’t eaten yet?” He asked you as you shook your head in response.

“Not yet. I was busy chatting with auntie.”

“Tell you what, Sunghoon. Your wife was just really waiting for you to come here.” Aunt Chul remarked.

“Alright, I’ll leave you two love birds alone to enjoy your food.”

Once the two of you were left alone, Sunghoon couldn’t help but let a smile spread across his face.

“So, you were waiting for me, huh?” He said teasingly.

“I wasn’t waiting for you. The conversation with Auntie just really hit the spot.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s eat.”

They ate in silence. You sat beside him quietly with your head bowed as you eat. You were like some kind of a shy teenager sitting next to her crush.

Sunghoon smiled a little as he remembered their happy memories. You were just like this back then when you two are being teased together. You would blush furiously and he just enjoy the teasing.

“I’ll go upstairs to take a shower ang get changed.” You said after he was done eating.

But before you could fully stand up, he pulled you back into the chair and bestowed a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Please don’t tempt me like that.” Your eye widened and your lips parted in surprise. Your face reddened and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning. You quickly stood up and rushed away from him.

Well, it was useless since no matter what you do, you were already his. Nothing could ever separate you from him, not even your brother.

Sunghoon’s smile faded, and his eyes grew cold.

You would be forever his, and you had no idea of what the future lies ahead of you.

[bhaalstemple]

i finished the game and veilguard was a disappointment lol

spoilers below

the way they butchered solas' character by just making him be led by the memory of mythal; no self-righteousness, savior complex, it was all done bc he wanted to honor mythal

why are the venatori worshipping elgar'nan and not a single elf. ????

how they made mythal far more important than lavellan to solas to the point for a moment i thought she was solas' ex (thank god it was clarified at the end she was only "solas' oldest friend")

the companions are so... lifeless. cheers to bellara for being the only one that feels like an actual human being and not an agglomeration of bad executed tropes (even if at the beginning she was)

the way mythal didn't end up being a villain, when she actively abused and groomed solas (and also morrigan btw) and it made all the sense in the world because she yearned for a reckoning and bring her revenge, a thing she has yearned for and been planning for a millennia because her anger is that strong... but no she just gave it up

the way morrigan's themes of parental abuse (breaking the cycle of abuse) go to shit after she embraced mythal's memories like.... as someone who has also an abusive mother that i broke contact with this made me want to fucking scream lol

morrigan's character also doesn't sound like her AT ALL, why is this woman smiling and being cocky, she's a scholar, a professional, a woman who carries knowledge that burdens her and trauma at the hands of a mother who should've cared for her. and how protective she was a kieran shows how private she is. what the hell. she would not be THAT friendly with strangers lol

and mythal being the only one who truly could change solas' mind at the end (just thinking abt it makes me want to punch a hole in the wall) + the anticlimactic departure of lavellan to the fade with solas is so fucking bad; because of the message it gives (this world is not worth-living for + a woman should spend the rest of her life and sacrificing herself for a man who put another random woman before her) and its joyless execution

if you get any other ending, the inquisitor doesn't even appear. lmfao. bye.

and lets not talk about the post-ending credits scene bc thats actually the thing that i hated the most. it makes all the themes and writing of bioware completely meaningless lol

the funny thing is that i have known for years where would bioware go with dragon age's story and 95% of my theories were correct, but me, someone who is not a writer, would've made a far more compelling story respecting dragon age's themes and nuance. i even predicted that mythal abused and groomed solas, but they executed it so badly that i can't believe these people get paid to write stories lmfao

i literally feel so betrayed, so hollow, so sad, i don't know what to do. i literally just uninstalled veilguard after finishing it. i spent 10 years imagining how the story would go, but id never imagine it would be THIS BAD.

the books, the content, so well-crafted, and so well-executed, just to make a stupid game that breaks all of its themes and leaves them meaningless. what the hell was happening in bioware when all the side-content has so much complexity and nuance (mostly tevinter nights), what happened lmao

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

9-1-1 Masterlist

Oh gee finally a place I can keep these! Thank you to my bestest most amazing friend in the whole world for making these headers for me i literally actually literally could not do it without you

Two of a kind

Buck can’t stop thinking about his coworker, so he does what every guy at 3am does on a 24 hour shift!! He sneaks out to his car to get off. But it turns out, certain coworkers (that might possibly be the love of his life) have the exact same idea!

Fairest of Them All:

The party downstairs rages on as Buck decides to do something about the pretty little thing he’s been staring at all night

Clothing Optional:

I can’t. I can’t keep writing summaries. I’ve done 2

After a stupid work shift, in the stupid heat, Buck just wants to enjoy a sweet little sundae, fortunately it comes with a side of dat ass (I’m not sorry)

That Should Be Me:

Buck has never ever been jealous ever a single damn day in his life

Gamer Girl

Buck thinks you’re so, so pretty. You’d looked even prettier with your thighs around his head

Now You See Me:

✨Mirror sex✨

Sleepy Hollow, 1999

Scream, 1996

The Exorcist, 1973

The Shining, 1990

Grease Lightning

The Polar Express, 2004

Growing Pains:

Everything is all wonderful and cool and dandy until you nearly die from your appendix!!

(I KNOW. THERE IS. AN AMBULANCE.)

Cry To Me:

Eddie loves when you’re crying during sex, nothing turns him on more… except when those tears are very very real and he’s very very worried

10 Things I Hate About You:

You guys freaking h a t e each other… or do you? Wink wink wink wink enemies to lovers wink

I Spy:

Eddie is the sweetest neighbor in the entire world… who knows where you work

Better Than Revenge:

You and Eddie get locked into a closet at your job after an accident, it also turns out your now EX boyfriend is a cheating asshole! Eddie has absolutely no problem filling in for the revenge role

Front Row:

Why do firehouses have to work f o r e v e r. Eddie needs a freaking shower and to pass out for the next six years on an overnight shift. It turns out someone has the same idea, and possibly another idea on how to left off some steam

Yeti Point:

Eddie finally takes you on that skiing vacation you’ve been begging him for and it’s going great! Until you get snowed in. But that’s okay, Eddie has a secret plan to keep you both warm

Slow and Steady:

Buck helps Eddie into the house, holding him up as you frantically get the bed ready for your injured boyfriend. Turns out, pain killers make Eddie horny!

(Hahahahahaha)

Encanto:

Dad!Eddie x Daughter!reader

Nightmares never get easier no matter how old you get. Especially ones where your father dies

Smoke Dector:

Eddie always has to be the hero, okay not really but it’s hard when you see your boyfriend running into a burning building for the first time

One Puff Or Two:

Take your freaking inhaler Eddie 🔪🔪🔪

Into The Fire:

(PTSD WARNING, PANIC ATTACK WARNING)

You’ve been on edge lately, and Eddie knows there’s something up. One night things come to a head when you have a nightmare about what happened and Eddie wakes up to a very bad situation

Night Changes:

Eddie comforts you after a bad nightmare about him dying over and over in different ways (based off of 5.14)

Busy Bees:

Two words ✨Sex Pollen✨

Soup or Salad?

✨I’ll freaking summarize this later✨

Sink or Swim

I Was Made For Lovin’ You

Halloween, 1978

It, 1990

Die Hard, 1988

A Rose by any Other Name

This is one of the funniest titles I've ever made up. Buck finds your simple collection of toys and shows them to Eddie... and now they want you to put on a little show for them

Finish Line:

A little game of "whoever cums first loses"

Twice Bitten:

Double Penetration from my kinktober list!

Alexander Hamilton:

Buck can't stop having feelings for Eddie's girlfriend... but what if that's okay?

Captured, With Love

[stormhearty]

Parings: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 2k+

Triggers: angst, mentions of war and death

Summary: The after-effects of your death hit Prythian hard, the loss of your light indefinitely, leaving the world less bright, and the loss of your power echoed throughout the land. Azriel now has to cope with the loss of his mate — the hollow feeling of the mating bond leaving him nothing but a shell of his previous self. The Inner Circle have to rebuild the trust they had with the other courts along Prythian — especially concerning Day Court. Helion, acting as your father, has to bury your body within the warm soils of Day Court as his people pay tribute to the loss of the Seer of Prythian.

Note: The epilogue to “Pushed to the Edge”! I am very happy to be ending this one-shot-turned-series! Thank you guys so much for supporting this!! This epilogue also included a little insight on the reader’s POV of the last section of part 3. I hope it sheds some light on why she decided to do what she did. Also, I am always happy to write more about Seer!Reader if anyone would like more. But please do enjoy the epilogue.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

The dark wind bellowed through your hair, a deathly chill running down your spine as you watched the shadows guide Azriel through the streets of Valeris. You stood on the hill that you had winnowed to, watching him wreak destruction against the Death-God’s army. Feeling a slither of shadow against your arm, you looked down and gave a tiny smile — a rare one that tugged on your lips after your resurrection — as you brought it to your lips and pressed a kiss against the flutter of shadow, “Take me to him… It’s time…”

You had known of your connection to the Death-God the moment you had been resurrected from Death. The feeling of the ancient, tattered cord that connected your two beings — one that was hollow and empty. You were unaware of what that bond meant, whether it connected your souls to eternal servitude or something else, you kept that bond a secret — weaving shadow and darkness around that cord, hiding it from the Death-God.

The only time you realized the importance of the connection was during a vision — the only vision you ever had since your revival.

One that would take not only your life but the very life of the Death-God — one that was by the hands of the person that had broken you.

You kept that vision close to your heart, hiding it within shadows from the Death-God, using it as an arsenal against him. You watched as destruction and death seeped through Prythian and you felt the distress bite your very soul.

This isn’t what you had wanted, you never wanted Prythian to be destroyed — all you wanted was revenge against those who struck against you — those who had betrayed you. Not all this loss of life.

Not against Helion, or Thesan, or Tarquin… not against the rest of the High Lords.

No… you had to put an end to this.

You had used the bargain with Azriel to your advantage, using him to fight for you — the vision you kept so close to your heart started to sing alive as if you were walking down the correct path to end this destruction.

And so when the shadows winnowed you to where Azriel stood, the shadows cloaking his body, the Truth-Teller rightfully in his hands, another smile tugged on your features.

This had been it. The vision that came to pass — that last vision — of you and Azriel, finally ending the rein of darkness that Kosechi planned to coat your world in.

You had stepped closer to him, watching his body stiffen, his Spymaster instincts taking over his form. You heard the whispers of the shadows in his ear and you couldn’t help but look down at your chest, the shadows finally unraveling themselves from the last piece of light in your soul — the final mark where Azriel would strike.

Lifting your head, you watched the Shadowsinger lunge for you, the Truth-Teller stabbing you in your light, the shadows around it shrieking in agony, pain, and sadness. A gasp escaped your lips at a vision passed behind your eyes — the same pain rushing down the now open bond between you and Kosechi, the same wound inflicted on his immortal body.

It has been done.

Your knees buckled and you felt the shadows slip from Azriel to your own body, feeling the whisps chill on your skin. Eyes looked up at Azriel, seeing the disbelief and agony in his features. It was satisfying to see… to see him in so much pain.

Everything passed in a blur, not knowing that the Death-God had come and gone. All you can focus on is your mate — former mate. You felt his hot tears on your cooling body and you just stared up at him, pouring all your emotions out — inflicting as much pain as you could with your final breaths.

It was done. It has ended. And your time as Prythian’s Seer, its unknown Seer, has finally come to pass.

Your duty is done.

Helion felt like he couldn’t breathe.

He felt as if his whole world was being taken away from his very eyes as he watched the Spymaster hold your dead body, howling at your loss. The Day High Lord felt his body shake as he took a step forward, looking around at the piles of corpses — of Kosechi’s followers on the ground — before focusing back on you.

He heard the winnowing of Rhysand and the rest of the High Lords, as they surrounded the breaking Spymaster.

“… Azriel…” Rhysand’s voice cracked, trying to call his brother out of the agony he was feeling.

The Spymaster looked up, seeing all the High Lords before going to his knees, continuing to clutch your body close to him, “Please… I beg all of you. Please bring her back… the kernel of life…” He begged, tears dried on his cheeks, determination in his hazel eyes.

Rhysand’s face pinched with pain at the request and Helion’s hardened.

“How dare you, Azriel…” Helion’s was hard as steel, the Spymaster’s body flinching, “To plead to bring her back to life when you had been the one to break and hurt her… Forcing her hand to kill herself…”

Azriel shook his head, pressing his forehead against your own, your body cool, devoid of life, “I know… I know. Give me a chance… give me a chance to do everything again. To make things right with her. Give her a chance to live again. That’s all I ask. I’d do anything, give anything for her to be alive again.”

He wailed, pleaded, and whispered against your skin, hoping that the High Lords would listen to his request. All he wanted was to feel your heartbeat again, bask in your light, to hold you in his arms again. To love you again. He knew it was possible, the High Lords have done it twice — with Feyre Under the Mountain, and with Rhysand after Hybern. Using that kernel of life to bring you back from the dead — to bring you back home, bring you back to him.

Azriel waited, but all he heard was silence, the blow of the wind loud in his ears. He heard footsteps towards him and he looked up to see Rhysand, his features pained as he kneeled to his brother.

“We can’t… Azriel…” he confessed, his voice pained as he saw the light dim in Azriel’s features, “She has already been resurrected once… Twice is against Mother’s will. There’s… nothing we could do…”

“No… that can’t be. Please, Rhysand!” he looked up at his High Lord, “I’d do anything… anything to bring her back…. Take mine! Take my life, to give to her! A life for a life…! That will work right?” He was frantic, thinking of anything… any way to bring you back to living.

“Stop, Shadowsinger…” Helion’s voice ordered, the command echoed through every fae in that spot. Rhysand closed his eyes, fighting back every urge to follow that command. The High Lord of Night stood up and stepped back, feeling Helion’s presence behind him.

Azriel growled and looked up at Helion, instinctively wrapping his arms tighter around your body.

“You had multiple chances to make it up to her. You watched as she begged you to listen, to listen to your mate. But you ignored it, you pissed off your chances for her. You do not get another shot, not in this life… and probably not in any other lifetime you will have with her.”

With a snap of his fingers, your body was winnowed from Azriel’s arms to his own, Helion gently holding you in his arms as he looked down at you with so much sadness and regret.

The Shadowsinger tried to scramble back up, to want to fight the High Lord, only to be held down by Cassian and Rhysand, “Don’t…” Rhysand commanded him, “…We have no right to her anymore. Not after everything we have done…”

“What did you do?” Azriel snarled at his High Lord.

“Your High Lord made a bargain…” Helion disclosed as he turned his heels, stepping back from the Inner Circle, “You and the rest of Night Court have no claims over her body, not when (Y/N) was originally from Day Court. Her body will be buried in Day soil, where she rightfully belongs. And you, Shadowsinger, are banned from entering my Court. And so will the rest of your family… The only person that I will allow to visit her body will be your High Lady. As Night Court’s emissary…”

Azriel felt his heart drop to the ground. No. He already lost you, and now he cannot visit your grave, to mourn for you.

“I will have no bargaining with you, Shadowsinger. Not when your High Lord was the one who allowed it,” Helion looked over his shoulder at the three brothers, “No matter what you do, this bargain will be the last with the Night Court. You have lost all my trust with this matter…”

And with that, Helion winnowed away — with your body in his arms.

Azriel stared at the spot that Helion winnowed away from as he felt hands come off his body. He collapsed, pressing scarred hands into the dirt. He felt his whole body continue to shake, the sadness, the anger not leaving him — he felt as if his anger was never-ending; anger at Helion for taking your body from him, anger at him for banning him from Day Court; anger at his High Lord for creating the bargain in the first place; anger at you for dying in his arms, forcing him to be the one to take your life.

“Azriel…” Rhysand called his name before he stepped back away from his brother when a growl escaped Azriel’s chest.

“Why… Why would you make that bargain, Rhysand…” he murmured, tilting his head up to look at his High Lord with a glare, hazel eyes blazing with that anger he felt throughout his body.

Rhysand sighed and knelt once more to be eye-to-eye with his brother, “I had to, Azriel. I couldn’t argue with Helion, not after everything we did to (Y/N)… She was originally from Day Court, she is tied to Helion’s Court — - “

“But she’s been with us for five hundred years, Rhysand… She had a home with us… She was my mate…” Azriel tried to reason with his High Lord, hazel eyes shifting from anger to absolute despair.

“— - You have no right to claim her as your mate… Not anymore. Not after cheating on her with Elain…” Rhysand reprimanded his brother, “I have no claim to her to be under my Court after I had failed to protect her. We have lost her, Azriel. We lost her the moment we had failed as a family to notice her pain… We had failed her entirely. I regret immensely on how we have treated her the last moments of her life… I regret every moment since her death on how I treated her as her High Lord, as her friend, as her family…”

There was so much pain in Rhysand’s voice and Azriel let out a painful cry, one that echoed so deep in his soul.

“I let Helion take her body to let her body be at peace in her home, her real home, Azriel. A place where she is not in pain, one where she isn’t surrounded by those who had betrayed her. Your banishment from Day Court was part of that bargain — I didn’t want to do that to you, brother — -” he placed a hand against Azriel’s trembling shoulder, “— - I didn’t want to separate you from her, but I had to… For her.”

Another sob escaped Azriel’s lips as he dropped his head, his forehead resting against the cool ground, “How can I continue to live?” he whispered, “My whole soul is breaking, Rhysand… The echo of that bond hurts so much. I never knew how much it would hurt… If I knew, if I knew this would be the outcome of my infidelity towards her, I would never have done it. If I knew my infidelity would cause her to die in my arms, I would have never done it.”

Rhysand sighed and looked up to Cassian, the General looking at his brother with so much sorrow. The two looked at one another before reaching toward Azriel to heave him off the ground. All Azriel wanted to do was collapse, but he knew he couldn’t — he didn’t have any right to do so. He was the cause of this, he was at fault.

“You will continue to live…” Rhysand urged, “You will continue to live and mourn and regret. We all will. That’s all we can do for (Y/N)…”

Azriel looked at Rhysand, before glancing at Cassian, who nodded, “We all will continue to live with our betrayal. Live and regret.”

And all Azriel could do was tilt his head back, looking up at the gray sky as raindrops fell — as if the universe knew how he felt at that very moment.

Feyre stood in the back of the ceremony, watching as Helion lowered your body into the ground — one decorated so beautifully, in a simple white tule dress and on top of your head a halo that mimicked the sun. You looked gorgeous, lying in the casket as if you were just sleeping.

The High Lady listened to Helion’s speech — the love and admiration evident in every word he spoke about you; on how he had found you, protected you — he told your story, every happy moment but also every sad and devastating moment.

She could see how Helion held back so much anger when he brought up your time at Night Court and Feyre couldn’t help but pang of pain in her chest. She regretted every moment of listening to it all over again — Feyre knew she could have made a difference. She tried to help you, tried to reach out to you — but her effort wasn’t big enough. She could have tried harder, to fight for you — but she failed at that.

Everything was a blur after the speech, people had slowly filtered out after they had paid respect to the loss of your light, the loss of your life. Feyre felt her feet bring her to your grave. She looked at the statue that stood at the head of your grave, one was a mirror of your body that was now in the ground. That same dress, that same crown on top of your head.

You were like a goddess that glowed under Day Court’s sun.

Feyre felt a figure next to her, turning her head to look at Helion who looked up at that statue with sadness.

“… That was a wonderful speech, Helion,” Feyre complimented, her gaze returning up at the statue.

The Day High Lord did not say anything back to the High Lady.

And Feyre continued, “… — - I know that no matter how many times we apologize, you will never forgive us. And I understand… (Y/N)… was the best thing that you had given us, the best thing that Azriel had in his life — “ Feyre watched from the corner of her eye that Helion’s hand fisted tightly against his side at the mention of the Shadowsinger, “— - We will do our very best, to gain your trust again. We will mourn for centuries for what we had done to her, we will continue to regret.”

Helion let out a broken chuckle and shook his head, “… I don’t think I can trust any of you again, Feyre… Not when you had taken her away from me. This child was the best thing that has happened to me, besides knowing that Lucien is my son… (Y/N) was my daughter, I raised her as my daughter… And it hurts, knowing that she passed before I did. You… never want to bury your children… And that’s what I had to do today. And I will never forget how that feels…”

He turned his head towards Feyre, “… Be glad you were able to be part of this ceremony, High Lady of Night Court… It was for (Y/N), she would have wanted you to be part of her burial. If it was me, I would never let you in my Court again, but this is all for her.”

Feyre nodded her head, “And I am, and forever will be, thankful for your kindness…”

Helion gave a stiff nod of his head before looking back up at the statue for a moment before turning on his heels and walking away.

The High Lady sighed and looked up at the statue as well, “I hope you are at peace, (Y/N)…” she whispered a prayer one more time before turning as well, walking out of the wards of Day Court before winnowing away, the echo of a sad lament for you singing through the lands.

[vidavalor]

The Blitz, Part 3 Theory: The clues that suggest what it might be about & how it's affected what's come after it

I rewatched 2.04/The Blitz, Part 2 last night and a moment stood out to me that made me think I have an idea of what might happen in the flashback we all seem to have collectively agreed is almost certainly in S3-- The Blitz, Part 3.

When Crowley & Aziraphale are in the magic shop and Glozier is there in the background, the camera jumps to a pretty significant reaction shot for Glozier when Aziraphale tells Crowley that he has a Derringer hidden in a hollowed-out book in the bookshop. I think everyone sees that bit as important-- it's a literal Chekhov's gun sitting out there for the future story, after all-- but I was thinking about why it matters that one of the Zombie Nazis overheard this when they're... ya know... zombies. Their methods of murder tend to be a little more direct, yeah? lol What do they need a gun for when they eat people to death? But then it hit me why it will matter that Glozier heard this... it's not about the Zombie Nazis, exactly. It's about Furfur.

When we leave Furfur in 1941, he's just been embarrassed in front of The Dark Council by Aziraphale, who has swapped out the picture of him and Crowley for a flyer for the Ladies of Camelot, right? They literally laugh in Furfur's face. Furfur's entire plot in 1941 is about how he's been stuck in processing for millennia and he's trying to get out of it-- about how he's jealous of Crowley and the few others who get to go to Earth. He's dealt slight after slight after slight during this night in 1941. He fails to get proof against Crowley, who doesn't even remember him. He gets shamed and embarrassed in front of the higher-ups and his peers. His fledging... whatever it is exactly lol... with Shax-- who is the closest thing he has to a friend-- is damaged as she's gone out on a limb for him and he hasn't delivered. Most terrible, he's sure he's never going to get out of his miserable eternity of grunt work. He's *very, very, very* unhappy and boxed into a corner, right? So what does Furfur want, now that he's stuck in Hell forever and all of it is laughing at him?

Revenge. He wants revenge.

In the short term, he also wants someone to scream at, so he goes back up to Earth and finds the Zombie Nazis, who are roaming around London eating people. They can't go very quickly so they haven't gotten far and aren't hard to find lol. Furfur knows it's not exactly their fault that he was tricked by the angel as, technically, they completed the tasks they were given, but he's furious and he needs to vent it, so he starts yelling that he's going to revoke their zombie-life-on-earth clauses. (Even *the Nazi zombies* get to be on Earth and Furfur does not? Yeah, he's not going to be able to handle that...)

The Zombie Nazis, understandably after seeing that video he showed them in Part 2, start freaking out because they don't want that whole fly fate for all of eternity and they don't know how to reach anyone beyond Furfur so they'll do anything to keep Furfur from taking out his humiliation on them. Upon hearing that this is all about how Aziraphale tricked Furfur and got him humiliated by Hell, the Zombie Nazis start desperately suggesting that it's not too late! They can help Furfur still get Crowley and Aziraphale! Even if Hell thinks Furfur is a joke and won't listen to him about the angel and demon being involved, they can still help Furfur get revenge!

They bring Furfur to outside the bookshop to find Crowley and Aziraphale because that's where the Zombie Nazis say they saw them together earlier & they know Aziraphale lives there. Furfur's in a rage because through a side window, he's observing Crowley and Aziraphale drinking wine together by candlelight in what is the "I know you'd come through for me" scene from Part 2-- and Aziraphale even has the photo Furfur took of them earlier in his hand. (Insert here more of the recurring gag about Harmony lip-reading as now he's also looking through the window and probably gets a line like "he is saying it again! 'banana fish go-RILL-ah...'").

So Furfur is in a fur-furious rage here and is ready to murder these two but... there's just one *slight* problem...

He's a demon.

He can't get into the bookshop.

Aziraphale would have to invite him in and he's certainly not going to after their meeting earlier. But! This is when Furfur and the Nazis realize that there is someone in their group who *can* get in the bookshop...

....our fave fascist, Fraulein Greta Klauschmidt.

As "Rose", Greta recruited Aziraphale-- entering his bookshop when she was a human, invited in by Aziraphale. She can still get into the bookshop. (It's also a parallel to Shax tricking Aziraphale into letting her into The Bentley in S2.)

Once Furfur and the Nazis realize this, the question then becomes: okay, so if Greta can get into the shop, how is she then going to kill Aziraphale and Crowley? (*Especially* Aziraphale, whom Furfur really, really, really loathes at this point lol.)

This is when we go back to the scene that triggered this meta, which is that this is when Glozier then volunteers the information he overheard in the magic shop-- that there's a Chekhov's gun in the bookshop.

The Derringer works as a weapon here to do that because, as Furfur himself pointed out during the magic show earlier, if Crowley had shot Aziraphale in the face, it wouldn't just be paperwork but it might not be possible for them to "put him back together again"-- indicating that there are some things that can happen to angels and demons that are irreversible and can effectively kill them, more or less-- and a gunshot to the head is one of them.

(I'm also realizing as I'm writing this that that Glozier's *ear* falling off in the magic shop is another nod to him having *heard* important information and so far, we've only seen half of what he heard pay off-- the time and location of Aziraphale's performance in the West End. We're still awaiting pay off of the gun bit.)

My bet is that Aziraphale's Derringer in a hollowed out book is something he actually *showed "Rose" like the cinnamon roll idiot that he is* lol... so once Glozier brings it up, Greta remembers and she knows what book it's in and exactly where it is in the shop.

So Furfur still cannot get in but Greta can get in... which means Greta is now the most powerful character here. If Furfur wants Aziraphale dead, Greta can make that happen... *if* they cut a deal. What kind of deal? Well, the only thing Greta is going to want that she thinks that Furfur could give her is to not be a zombie, right? To be alive again? Reverse the clause in the paperwork and give her her life back. Whether or not Furfur can actually do this (and I'm not sure if he can or not, really, but I'd wager probably not), Furfur tells Greta that he can and she and the other Nazis believe him.

The plan is that the four of them go to the bookshop, where Furfur activates a miracle blocker card for a few hours surrounding the shop in an effort to limit Crowley and Aziraphale's powers and give the Zombie Nazis the advantage. Once the miracle blocker is in place, Greta goes inside while Harmony and Glozier make noise outside, in an effort to separate Crowley and Aziraphale to make it easier to kill them by attempting to lure one of them outside. Greta is to kill the one that stays inside the bookshop while Harmony and Glozier are supposed to kill the one that goes outside. (This will not happen according to plan at all, whatsoever, but it does seem like the most likely plan these four characters could form where they all have a role in it.)

So because Greta is the only one who can get inside, she has go to into the bookshop and be the one who can kill, most likely in their mind, Aziraphale. She'll still be a staggering zombie when the extremely bright Furfur sends her in there to obtain and fire a gun at a pair of supernatural beings lol but she manages to sneak in the back door without Crowley and Aziraphale really hearing the breaking & entering... or whatever noises the other two are making outside... as Crowley and Aziraphale are a little busy gazing at one another.

It would actually be a really funny, very Good Omens-y gag IMHO, if Greta is colossally unsubtle in entering the other side of the shop from where Crowley & Aziraphale are and is banging into stuff while Harmony and Glozier keep coming up with more and more insane noises outside... but Crowley and Aziraphale are too busy making heart eyes at one another to care or do anything about it. A very "did you... hear that?"/"oh, must be the war, let's go back to gazing" type of attitude with a steadily increasing series of sounds that are harder and harder to dismiss but they are trying, ok? lol. (This would also parallel Aziraphale ignoring the demons outside for as long as he could during The Ball in S2, until the bookshop begins literally breaking around them.)

So while we watch scenes of Furfur and The Zombie Nazis Hatch A Plot, the relationship tension between Crowley & Aziraphale is building as much as the plot tension. They intercut Furfur & the Nazis scenes with Crowley & Aziraphale having quiet, romantic, candlelit glasses of wine after their very intense and illuminating evening together. Each time we go back to Crowley & Aziraphale... they seem to be getting increasingly cozier. They sit a little closer, they get a little looser around one another. Crowley's glasses might come off. We get the sense that this is all Going Somewhere and it's somewhere they've never let themselves go before but after the events of Blitz 1 & 2 tonight? It's becoming increasingly clear to them that they will. There's virtual certainty that if *nothing else happens* to these two tonight and they're just left alone for once, they're at least going to kiss and what we're watching is them slowly enjoying the path there and them enjoying silently knowing that they're going to.

At some point, we hop from the Nazis back over to Aziraphale asking Crowley if he'd like a little music... Aziraphale might even have something *modern* kicking around, he's excited to tell Crowley (like he might have been totally not at all fantasizing about this exact Crowley-dashing-in-his-suit-with-a-glass-of-wine-smoldering-in-the-bookshop scenario when he bought this record from Maggie's grandfather recently lol)... and he goes over to the gramophone to put it on and now we've got Crowley and Aziraphale with candlelight and wine and music and they're each just taking step after slow little step that slowly acknowledges the romance at play here. Aziraphale's record is probably Glenn Miller. We know he likes big band and The Bentley played him "Moonlight Serenade" in S2 and Glenn Miller also recorded "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square", so it's one record where "Moonlight" could play and then, eventually, so too could "Nightingale" without Aziraphale getting up and moving away from Crowley... and you better believe that when we get to "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" playing that Crowley and Aziraphale are a literal breath away from kissing.

It'd be completely perfect to them, right? Very romantic. They're there together, alone, they've survived the Nazis and Mrs. H and threats of Hell and have spent the night gazing at one another and now they're here and it's quiet and there's candlelight and it's the familiar, comforting bookshop that is home for both of them... the same place, ironically, that they will drink wine together and make eyes at one another *for decades* after this night-- without Aziraphale putting on The Song, of course-- and you know they will think about 1941 every. single. time. while never actually recreating it.

(It's also why, when they're both wasted in the bookshop in S1's "Eleven Years Ago", Crowley is rambling on about bananas and gorillas and bouillabaisse/fish stew-- ya know, "banana fish gorilla..."-- and they're both so drunk and thinking about how they're almost out of time... and so they're both thinking of 1941 and wind up making those hilarious kissy faces at one another because they both obviously still want to actually kiss some 80 years after the night they almost did. Crowley also calls Aziraphale "baby" in the middle of his ramble. He might have called Aziraphale that in 1941, when they weren't drunk and were on their way to kissing. He also might have just wanted to, so it turned up in "Eleven Years Later" and might come up again later on in the present of S3, whenever they inevitably get to finally have a decent, uninterrupted, not painful kiss.)

Back in 1941, as we flip between Furfur/The Nazis and our heroes, maybe Crowley's even gotten comfortable enough to lose the glasses (though he can leave them on if he still has the hat on when they go to kiss so that he can take the hat off like a gentleman to kiss Aziraphale *swoon* and actually that's how Aziraphale died everyone surprise twist he's been dead since 1941 an a ghost this whole time lol)... and there's romantic big band on the record player and there was magic in the air and angels were dining at the Ritz when a nightingale sang in Bahhhrrrrk. Leeeeee. Square... and they're *almost* there, right? They're basically kissing. There is no way for either of them to ever legitimately pretend that was not was going to happen (even if they will try in the future lol) as their lips were a millimeter away and both of them want it and just like this and it's been six thousand years of pining and so, of course, that is when...

...Greta zombie-crashes into the room with Aziraphale's once-hidden Derringer aimed at them.

(Aziraphale's probably furiously muttering "oh good Lord" under his breath with a very different tone than in 1793 lol. That is his attitude, at least, if not the dialogue.)

So then they have to try to protect one another right and it's mild chaos for a moment as like Crowley starts looking out the window at Furfur and the rest of the Zombie Nazi Trio (paralleling his demons-outside-the-bookshop paranoia in S2) and realizes they were the noise while Greta is all "pity you both must die" again with a little smirk and Aziraphale is trying to calm her down and reason with her while also subtly trying to get close enough to get the gun and she probably fires but she's a zombie so she misses lol and he's like glancing over for Crowley and Crowley seems to disappear for a moment while Aziraphale stalls Greta and just when we think where the hell did Crowley go?! Aziraphale is about to be shot in the face!...

...Greta is shot in the face instead.

By Crowley.

With The Bullet Catcher.

And the bullet that was in Aziraphale's teeth a couple of hours ago.

Crowley has not so much has blown the fluff off a dandelion since he arrived on Earth six thousand years ago but you interrupt his first kiss with the angel and you. are. dead, you Nazi bitch...

I don't have a theory as to what happens after this beyond that we already know that Furfur is in Requisitions in the present now so he's going places lol. Also worth mentioning that Crowley or Aziraphale (I'd lean towards Crowley) could get shot by Greta's wild aim when they are trying to protect one another but it would be more of a graze that one could write a hundred h/c fics over than anything worth actually worrying about lol. It could be something like Crowley gets nicked but goes down as dramatically as he does in the paintball scene in S1 and Aziraphale is horrified but also fighting for his own life so he winds up focused on Greta and neither of them see Crowley slip away to come back with The Bullet Catcher... something like that. I'm just pretty sure that the fact that there are really *two* Chekhov's guns in the bookshop and that Greta is the only 1941 antagonist who can get inside it maths out to Crowley-- shooting her with The Bullet Catcher.

I'm not sure what happens to Harmony and Glozier. Aziraphale says in S1 that he's never killed anything so he can't kill anyone here and while I'm fine with Crowley mowing down Nazis with every Chekhov's gun left in the plot lol, I don't know that that's what happened or if, honestly, the two of them and Furfur just see Greta die through the window and run off. Maybe Aziraphale miracles the Nazis to Siberia. Who knows. But the main gist of it, I think, is that Crowley kills Greta when the Zombie Nazis and Furfur try to exact revenge on Crowley & Aziraphale and, in doing so, interrupt what would have been their first kiss and it's while "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is on in the background so that every time the song comes up in the future, it's a reference to this near-kiss in 1941, adding layers to scenes from Soho 1967 to the end of S1 to the end of S2, etc...

Kind of makes Crowley desperately kissing Aziraphale in the middle of the bookshop while a vengeful Heaven, this time, is trying to separate them, even more aldkjlkfjlewje, yeah?

I'd also like to just throw in here that it's actually possible that all of this is the same but they *did* kiss... that they were kissing when Greta burst in. Part of me really wants that to be the case. That maybe they did get to have this kiss, if only because even if only a tenth of what I've said above is anywhere close to right, it's still pretty romantic and it would be nice if they got to have that, especially then, even if it was ultimately interrupted. It's Soho 1967, though, that convinced me that they came *very* close but ultimately didn't (and honestly, the only way they don't in 1941 if they get that close is if they're interrupted and an armed Zombie Nazi crashing through the bookshop feels about right lol.) It's this bit from Aziraphale to me that says they almost kissed but didn't:

The picnic was likely Crowley's 1827 date in Edinburgh. The Gabriel statue was there for amusement but you know Crowley had a picnic set up nearby. (It's not that weird-- people used to picnic in graveyards in the 1800s & the only time Crowley & Aziraphale would be able to together would be under the cover of darkness.) Then, they ran into Elspeth and the night took a turn. (Elspeth was also digging up bodies from graves, which is a parallel to zombies, hooking 1827 to 1941.) Dining at the Ritz-- literally going to The Ritz and eating together, which they do twice in S1-- is something Aziraphale would literally like to go do as a date as but it's also code in the 1967 scene for "perhaps, one day, we could finish 1941." He's telling Crowley in 1967 that he would still very much like to kiss him one day.

The near-kiss in 1941 would then also be what gives Aziraphale the motivation to eventually give Crowley the holy water in 1967. Back in 1863, Aziraphale didn't totally see that Crowley wanted holy water to protect them. By 1941, when they're staring at the corpse of a once-Zombie Nazi on the floor of the bookshop that Crowley just killed with the gun that's in his hands, it's a different sort of proof. 1941 becomes the era of 'here is proof that Crowley will literally kill to protect Aziraphale' and maybe it freaks Aziraphale out a little (as well as also turning him on a lot lol). Maybe that's why they spend the next years after that until the '60s together but not really together. Maybe that's why they don't have another chance at the kiss after 1941-- why they don't just try again-- because Aziraphale slows down a bit after it, afraid that Crowley could get hurt and that this is too dangerous, but he also understands now that Crowley is in love with him and when he hears in 1967 that Crowley is going after Holy Water, Aziraphale just gives him some, as a way of saying that he knows they're in love but this is impossible and they need to not pursue this in a way that will get them killed because he can't lose him.

A near-kiss in 1941 adds layers to 1967 Soho by adding an additional meaning of 'physical intimacy' to "dining at the Ritz". It adds even more weight to the end of S2 and the kiss and the "no nightingales" through to the Tori Amos angsty cover of "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" in The Bentley. There are other scenes (the end of S1 and others) that it touches as well, if indirectly, but maybe my favorite is this scene, which has already been given extra layers of meaning since The Blitz, Part 2 and The Bullet Catcher plot but lol now add in the idea that the rest of the story is that Crowley and Aziraphale were going to kiss and they were interrupted in the moment, shot at with at least one of them probably getting nicked, and then Crowley killed someone with The Bullet Catcher and tell me it doesn't make this already amazing sequence even more amazing:

[le-loup-et-lion]

You know, one of the most interesting collective misconceptions in Les Mis is this pervasive idea that the barricade scene with Javert where "Valjean Takes His Revenge" occurs at night, when in fact it happens during the exact middle of the day.

I attribute this to the intimacy of the scene's character dynamics causing the setting to be misremembered as more intimate as well. It *feels* like a scene that should take place under cover of darkness, lit only by the wan beams of the moon, expressions hidden in shadow.

But it doesn't! And I think partly that's because the whole scene itself is jarring, and feels like something that is only happening by chance and in a manner neither party would prefer.

It's irreverent by nature. The whole affair is an afterthought by the students. Choosing to have Javert killed is petty and unnecessary—it doesn't do anyone any good; it's done on principle of vengeance alone. The students don't want Javert to be grouped with their own dead, even though there will soon be no one to care about or recognize the difference.

Valjean is tasked with shooting Javert like he's putting down an unruly dog (though he chooses to appoint himself to do this deed, for reasons Javert only mistakenly believes he comprehends). They have to climb over debris and walk past dead bodies, to which they give little regard.

Javert is supposed to be getting summarily executed as a prisoner of war, while tied up and barely able to walk, having been led to the spot of his intended death on a leash like a hobbled horse. He is not going to be untied before being shot; he expects to be killed remorselessly and dishonorably in a back alley and left there to rot.

The people around them are all children and young adults who've been shot and stabbed by the government. The whole scene is made extremely awkward and tense, feeling hollow and despairing and pointless, and the fact that it's midday only adds to the intended irreverence of it all, not even allowing the characters the reprieve of obscurity.

And I think this makes Valjean’s choice to free Javert even more jarring, because they're stuck in a setting of hopelessness where everyone's worst fears are coming true and nothing is held sacred. Honor, dignity, and respect have no place here. Nothing is hidden; everything is out in the open, in broad daylight—the horror, the death, the inhumanity. And nobody cares.

Accordingly, Javert expects his impending death to be no different.

But lo, there is Valjean, cutting his binds and turning him loose.

[moth-scrunk]

I have realized somehing with the news of a possible Farmer Vic. I looked back at “The Box” episode, and rewatched a specific scene.

The lasso scene. I never really considered it, but Vic knows how to use that lasso very, very well. During the scene, we as the audience see this as a callback to the first episode Victim was introduced into. The video that showed him and his clone using the different tools to fight against their creator.

But this is very different with the context of how GOOD Victim is at using the lasso tool. He didn’t just learn to use it, he learned to master it. He snagged Chosen out of the air-

-and then brought him in. Closing the distance, pulling on the rope until-

-he tugged on the end and brought Chosen straight to him.

To anyone, this was a clear message to Vic’s capabilities with working with tools, but what stood out to me was the scene that happens immediately after.

Chosen starts attempting to flee from Vic, dazed and already pinned, and Victim?

.. He cracks the whip, showing his strength behind the hit, the anger. The camera then slowly zooms in on Chosen-

Its this slow, subtle rise in music that we suddenly understand what’s going on. Chosen knows who this is now, Chosen suddenly remembers exactly who this is.

Everyone has been joking about how Farmer Vic’s home is about to get nuked by fire in the next AVA drop, but if that is the context: Everything lines up.

Victim having a reason to hurt Chosen, Chosen not even remembering who Victim is despite destroying his home, Victim’s cold reaction to seeing the Dark Lord getting nuked by Second(Orange) in the scene where it shows his death.

Everything suddenly makes sense. Victim isn’t just attacking Chosen because he can.

Victim isn’t just getting his revenge on Alan.

He is shaming the god who hurt his friends. The animals, the sticks who took Victim in upon his first fall down to the lands he’s now stuck in.

He was casted by his god to die, but was saved by strangers. He was given a home with cattle and lamb, given food and comfort. For once in his life he was safe and free from pain.

Then Chosen and Dark came along, born from the same god that had casted Victim aside. The same god who now unwilling unleashed hell upon the lands.

Victim would have watched his new friends and family burn. He could have watched the horror happen right in front of him. He hates the hollows for what they did, reminding him of his past creator, of his past in general. Filled with grief and sorrows he wished to swallow down, but instead was forced to live with.

So he hatched a plan, one to be seen by us, but in my opinion? He’s already succeeded in half of his plan.

He has humiliated the so-called “God” “, “The Chosen One”, and “The Dark Lord” is dead. Two threats now no longer threats. Now all he needs to do is reach Alan.

.. but then what? What happens when the smoke clears, when Alan is gone? Will he return to his life before? Will he try to leave behind his men and venture on to finally find his peace? Will he feel complete or content with his decisions?

Will he finally feel okay to grieve? To cry for what he has lost? To hold the remains of what was his first real life? Will he feel remorseful to those he hurt along the way? Will he ever say sorry or forgive any who hurt him?

If you ask me, no. I don’t think he ever will say sorry or forgive anyone, and he has a right to. He was born to be nothing more then a Victim to other’s crimes. He was born to be nothing more then a Victim to other’s wrath. He never deserved to be hurt, he never deserved to be tormented by a god that should have loved him.

Victim deserved to be happy. He deserved to have friends, play games, venture to new lands, see the beauty of life and enjoy it. He deserved to be held as he cried, hugged closely when scared, and protected when threatened.

Victim, Vic, deserved to live, and not suffer.

but because of Alan’s actions, because of Dark and Chosen’s actions, he does.

and now it’s no longer Vic who’s becoming the Victim.

[dee-writes-anime]

Hi! Can I request a sort of angsty platonic Gojo x younger sister?

A few days after Gojo is sealed, Psuedo-Geto decided it would be *fun* to allow him visions of the whereabouts of his powerful but young sister (16). So Gojo has to watch as his sister, who is facing more and more pressure from the higher-ups simple because she is a Gojo, is tearing through his classrooms, his bedroom, and his office desperately trying to figure out SOME sort of clue or way as to how to try and unseal him. Eventually she punches a hole in the wall out of frustration (out of character from her usual sweetness), and Megumi (Her best friend/familial figure because of HIS tied with Gojo) finds her and Gojo has to watch the two break down without him. Weather it ends with Gojo feeling super depressed, breaking out, vowing revenge, or anything, else, is up to you.

Thank you, but please, no worries if you dont want to write this one!

The Overwhelming Weight of Loss

FEATURING Satoru Gojo x Reader (PLATONIC)

SUMMARY Gojo has been sealed and in his absence, it's up to you, his sixteen-year-old sister, to take on the gaping hole that he's left behind.

CONTENT WARNINGS peer pressure, grief, descriptions of physical violence (punching a wall), guilt, sad stuff, dee hearts Megumi

AUTHORS NOTE thank you so so much for the request anon! I fear that I might have cooked with this one, let me know what you think! <3

In the suffocating stillness of the prison realm, Satoru Gojo floated, locked in a cold, dark silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Each second without sound, without sensation, stretched into eternity, pressing down on him like a weightless but unyielding force, tightening around his chest. It was an emptiness that gnawed at him, leaving him hollow and aching in ways he’d never known before. Alone, with no sense of the world beyond, he felt himself unraveling, piece by piece.

But then—like a spark flaring in the dark—images burst through his vision. He wasn’t sure if it was a blessing or a curse when he saw his classroom first, every detail sharpened in painful clarity. And there, in the middle of the room, was his little sister.

Sixteen years old, with that familiar spark of determination he’d always teased her for, she stood alone, shoulders hunched under a weight too heavy for her small frame. She was tearing through the room, tossing papers, shoving books aside, fingers trembling as she ran them over every surface. Her movements were frantic, desperate, as if the answer she was looking for was hidden somewhere just out of reach.

Gojo’s chest tightened, a cold ache spreading through him as he watched her. He could almost feel her heart racing, her hands growing sore as she rifled through stack after stack of his things. She lifted a framed photo of the two of them, hands shaking as she ran a thumb over his grinning face, as though she could pull him back into her world with just a touch.

He tried to reach for her, tried to speak, to let her know he was here, that he would come back to her no matter what. But he was paralyzed, trapped in this prison, his voice swallowed by the void. All he could do was watch as her fingers lingered on the photo, her expression so tight it seemed to press against her skin, like her very bones bore the weight of her sorrow.

“Where are you?” she whispered into the empty room, her voice thin and hoarse, her tone teetering between hope and despair. Her words pierced through him, sharp and unyielding. He wanted to scream, to break free of these chains and pull her into his arms, to tell her he was fighting with everything he had. But he could do nothing but watch her shoulders slump, her jaw clenching as she forced herself to keep searching, her fingers growing raw from the frantic pace.

Room after room she went, her movements growing wilder, sloppier, as desperation overtook her. She brushed dust off old notebooks, tore through drawers, her hands now smudged and reddened. She didn’t pause to brush her hair out of her face, strands sticking to her cheeks, slick with sweat and tears. She moved with an intensity that seemed to burn her from the inside out, her breath coming in short, painful bursts, her hands shaking as if they’d forgotten how to hold still.

Finally, she reached the far wall, her eyes wild with grief and fury and the fierce need to make sense of his absence. Gojo’s heart ached, feeling like it was being torn apart in his chest, a physical pain that throbbed with every breath he couldn’t take. He knew what was coming, saw the way her body tensed, her shoulders tightening as if the frustration had built up to an unbearable pressure. She raised her fist and drove it into the wall, the sound of impact shattering the silence, the plaster crumbling under her blow.

Pain flashed across her face as her hand dropped back, knuckles raw and bleeding, but she didn’t even flinch. She only stared at the hole, her chest heaving as she struggled to contain the flood of emotion surging within her. She pressed her bruised hand to her chest, fingers curling inward as though to hold herself together, to keep herself from breaking apart entirely.

The tears she’d fought so hard to hold back finally slipped free, trailing down her cheeks and carving paths through the dust on her skin. Her lips trembled as she took a shuddering breath, and a sound escaped her—a strangled, broken sob that seemed to pull at something deep inside Gojo, a wound that tore wider with every heartbeat.

She collapsed to her knees, clutching her injured hand, shoulders quaking as she buried her face in her arm, her quiet sobs muffled but unmistakable. She was breaking, right before his eyes, and there was nothing he could do. The helplessness was a tangible weight pressing against him, like iron wrapped around his ribs, squeezing tighter with each silent second that passed.

The vision shifted, and he saw a shadow cross the doorway. Megumi. His face was unreadable, eyes dark and concerned as he watched her. For a moment, he just stood there, taking in her small, hunched form, her hand bloodied from the impact. And then, with a gentleness that Gojo hadn’t seen in years, Megumi knelt beside her, a comforting presence in the midst of her storm.

Without a word, he rested a hand on her shoulder, steadying her, grounding her, offering a lifeline in the swirling chaos. She turned to him, her face crumpling as she met his gaze, and in that moment, all the walls she had built shattered. A soft, broken sob escaped her, and she leaned into him, clutching at his shirt as though he were the last solid thing in a world that was falling apart.

Megumi wrapped his arms around her, his grip firm but gentle, his hand moving in slow circles over her back. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, like an anchor in a raging storm. “You don’t have to do this alone. We’re going to get him back. I promise.”

“But what if… what if we can’t?” she choked out, her voice so small, so full of fear. Her fingers twisted in his shirt, her knuckles white, as if she could hold on to hope through sheer force of will. “I don’t know if I can keep… if I can hold on without him.”

Megumi’s grip tightened, his own face lined with quiet determination. He exhaled a shaky breath, letting her words sink in, then pressed his forehead against hers. “We’ll find a way. He’s still out there. And he’s Satoru Gojo… nothing can keep him down for long.”

She nodded, swallowing her tears, clinging to his words as though they were a lifeline. The two of them huddled there, their forms blurred by her tears, their shared pain a tangible, suffocating weight in the air. Gojo watched, feeling every heartbeat as if it were a knife twisting in his chest. She was so young, too young to bear this burden. They both were. Yet they held on, clinging to each other, refusing to let the world break them.

The vision faded, and he was left in the silent darkness once more, the ache in his chest a constant reminder of everything he’d lost. But beneath the pain, there was a spark—a fierce, unrelenting determination that blazed through the cold. He would come back. He would find a way. And when he did, those who had put them through this, who had left his sister and his student to shoulder the weight of his absence, would pay dearly for their suffering.

TAGLIST

@surielstea

[devotedlypinkpeanut]

Love us as much as we love you — part 2

Summary: Y/n is a professor who spends a night with four men, unaware that they are students at the university where she is about to teach. These four students, known as the Black Apollos, rule Ravenridge School. Wealthy, arrogant, and violent, they instill terror wherever they go. Through this one-night encounter, they gain leverage over her that they will use as they please. This Halloween month, she and other students are invited to celebrate at their mansion. What will happen to her?

PAIRING: Non-idols of ENHYPEN’s hyung line x female reader

GENRE: 18+ (MDNI), adulthood, reverse harem, teacher/student.

Warning : manipulation, psychological violence, physical violence, blood, blood kink, spitting, spanking, bondage, blackmail, intimidation, harassment, threats, student/teacher relationship, fighting, jealousy, dark atmosphere, insults, public humiliation, mental domination, body control, forced consent, confinement, dangerous seduction, domination, double play, emotional dependency, trauma, revenge, mental torture, physical constraints, extortion, abuse of power, degradation, erotic pain, double penetration, anal sex, cigarette consumption, oral sex, role-playing, exhibitionism, voyeurism, BDSM, fetishism, vaginal penetration, submission practices, non-consensual acts, acts in public places, mental domination, sexual humiliation.

Number of words : ~ 50k

Hey everyone, feel free to like, comment, and share if you enjoy! Your support means a lot!

⤑ Main Masterlist — Series Masterlist | ⇠ Previous Chapter 

Every breath is torture. Your sweaty body is stuck in sticky sheets, their weight making you feel like you’re suffocating. Every attempt to move tears a searing pain from your muscles and joints, as if your own skeleton were rebelling against you. The acidity that scrapes your throat still burns, ravaging the insides of your body, although your nausea has long since had nothing to expel. Your stomach is empty, hollow like a bottomless pit, and what you vomit with each spasm is your malaise: sickening, bitter, a persistent poison that refuses to release you.

When the doorbell first rings, it’s like someone is hammering directly into your skull. A whimper escapes your dry lips, unable to find the strength to protest. But the noise returns, insistent, cruel, coming at you with the precision of a blade. Each ring crushes you a little more, as if the person on the other end knows exactly how much they’re torturing you. Trembling, you swing your legs out of bed. The icy contact of the floor makes you shudder, but you have no choice but to move forward, staggering, like wounded prey.

Every step is a struggle. Your legs wobble, unable to support your weight. You barely catch yourself on the wall, your breath coming in short, painful gasps. Sweat trickles between your shoulder blades and slides down your neck, making your own body unbearable to inhabit. The suffocating grip of your weakness envelops you, but you continue, your gaze unfocused, until you finally reach the door. Your clammy fingers slide over the handle, hesitate for a moment, then you open it, praying that this nightmare will end.

And there they are. Jake and Sunghoon, standing in the doorway like untouchable specters, their presence weighing heavily on you. Their posture is nonchalant, but every fiber of their being oozes arrogance and control, crushing you under the authority they exude without even needing to speak. Jake smirks—a smile that already announces your defeat. Sunghoon is silent for a moment, his eyes slowly roaming your body with icy attention, as if he takes pleasure in dissecting every detail of your pitiful state. Their perfume, powerful and expensive, hits you full force, seeping under your skin, a heady scent that reminds you of how much they belong to a world you can only touch with your fingertips.

In your faded SpongeBob pajamas, stuck to your damp skin, you feel miserable, reduced to an empty shell under their inquisitive gazes. Sunghoon narrows his eyes slightly, a fleeting smirk stretching his lips as he takes in the measure of your decline. Jake, for his part, lets out a light laugh, almost amused, but loaded with an unbearable condescension.

“I thought you were running away from us, Professor,” Jake breathes, crossing the threshold without waiting for your permission. His voice, soft and velvety, vibrates with cruel irony. He walks around your apartment as if he were its rightful owner, letting his fingers trail over your things with a morbid curiosity. “But I see you were just… sick.” He says the word with studied slowness, and his gaze lingers on you, his laughing eyes piercing your thin defense.

Sunghoon follows behind him, closing the door with disconcerting calm. His piercing gaze sweeps every corner of the room as if searching for evidence of your insignificance. “Your place is as pitiful as you are,” he murmurs, almost absently, but each word hits you with an implacable coldness. Your jaw clenches, but you don’t even have the energy to retort.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice is hoarse and broken, each word ripped from a body too exhausted to fight. Your balance wavers, and Sunghoon is on you in an instant, his fingers firmly closing around your wrist. His grip is cold, methodical, a silent promise of absolute control. He effortlessly pulls you towards the couch and forces you to sit down, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that is both possessive and clinical.

“Like Jake said, bunny, we thought you were avoiding us,” he murmurs, crouching down in front of you, his gaze searching every inch of your exhausted face. There’s a troubled glint in his eyes, an unhealthy obsession that makes you want to disappear into the ground. “But now you don’t have to hide. We’re here. Let us handle everything.” It’s not a proposition. It’s an order. His voice is low, soft, but oozing with dominance.

Jake approaches slowly, positioning himself right above you. His eyes shine with perverse satisfaction, as if he’s relishing every second of your discomfort. “We’re going to take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice rough and drawling. “You can finally let go, Mom.” The nickname smacks like a disguised insult, and you feel your stomach churn again.

A wave of violent nausea washes over you, and you clumsily leap towards the bathroom, your body shaking and fragile. But before you can close the door, they're already behind you. Jake grabs a handful of your hair, gently tugging back to keep your face clear, a perverse smile playing on his lips.

Your body bends over the toilet, and you vomit with a violence that tears you apart from the inside. The acidity burns your throat and your eyes mist with uncontrollable tears. As you gasp, Sunghoon runs a slow hand over your back, his caresses strangely soothing, as if he finds a deranged pleasure in seeing you in this state.

When the spasms finally subside, you lift your head weakly, your face drenched in cold sweat. Your wobbly limbs betray you, every muscle screaming with exhaustion. Jake releases your hair with calculated slowness, his fingers sliding along your damp locks, as if he’s savoring the contact for a little too long. A gesture too precise, too intimate not to be disturbing.

The bitter taste of bile remains in your throat, and the suffocating weight of their presence crushes you a little more. They are there, omnipresent, and you already know that they are not done playing with you.

Sunghoon holds you firmly, his large, possessive hand pressed against your back in an embrace that leaves no room for ambiguity. His fingers skim your skin through the damp fabric of your pajamas, their deliberate movements marking every inch of your body like a silent takeover. He doesn’t need to speak to impose his hold on you—the way he exerts this subtle pressure, slipping effortlessly beneath the surface of your skin, is enough to make you understand that you belong to him, here and now. “Easy,” he murmurs near your ear, his voice low and gravelly, vibrating with ambiguous promises. The warm breath of his words brushes the line of your jaw, a caress as unsettling as it is unalterable.

The palm of his hand slides slowly down your back to your waist, and his grip tightens insidiously, holding you back just enough for you to understand that it is not help, but a silent warning. Your legs wobble under the weight of his control, and despite yourself, you lean further against him, your body seeking an unstable balance in this forced proximity. Each step towards the sink is a fight—not only against the physical weakness that eats away at you, but also against the strange nausea that tightens your chest, fueled by this thick atmosphere loaded with unspoken words.

When you reach the sink, your trembling fingers manage to turn the tap. The icy water spurts out brutally and hits your face in a sharp wave, but the shock doesn't erase the bitter burn in your throat or the oppressive weight that continues to weigh on you. You feel like you're suffocating, but the air saturated with their presence prevents you from breathing fully. Jake is there, just a few steps away, his gaze scrutinizing you with a perverse intensity, as if he's drinking in your weakness. His clear eyes shine with an unhealthy fascination, capturing every shudder of your body with a clinical, almost predatory attention.

He holds out a towel in a slow gesture, almost insulting in its nonchalance. The air around you is so thick that the simple act of grabbing the towel becomes an act charged with palpable tension. The fabric is rough against your overly sensitive skin, but you continue to wipe your face in silence, aware that every movement is being watched, analyzed, memorized. Your every move seems to fuel a latent desire in them, a twisted satisfaction in seeing you in this state of vulnerability.

Sunghoon stays behind you, his heavy, imposing presence reminding you that there is no escape. “Let’s get you back to bed, bunny,” he murmurs, his voice soft, almost caressing, but so full of control that it makes your blood run cold. Before you can protest, he lifts you up with disconcerting ease, as if your weight is nothing to him. Your damp pajamas cling to your skin, and you feel every fiber of Sunghoon’s clothes, as luxurious as they are cold, pressing against you. His arms around you are not a protection, but a cage. Each step he takes is slow, calculated, as if he wants to fully savor every second of your helplessness in his arms.

Jake opens the door to your room with an almost theatrical nonchalance. He lifts the covers with a deliberate gesture, revealing the bed with a slowness that borders on provocation. The mattress, cold under your feverish body, tears an uncontrollable shiver from you. Sunghoon places you with disturbing precision, his gaze fixed on yours. He doesn't need words to make you understand that this room is no longer a refuge for you. You are here at their mercy.

The sheet slides over your trembling skin, tugged by expert, confident hands. Each gesture is a subtly intrusive caress, a silent promise of what they can do with you, whenever they want. The way they lock you under this blanket is almost ceremonial, as if they are marking their territory with perverse meticulousness.

Sunghoon leans down, his large hand brushing your cheek with unsettling slowness. The caress is seemingly gentle, but each movement is measured, controlled, as if he were pressing an invisible button inside you. “Rest. We’ll be here when you wake up,” he murmurs, his voice so low that each word seems to slip under your skin. His lips brush your forehead, but this kiss is anything but innocent—it’s a mark, a veiled promise that leaves an invisible burn on your skin.

Jake, however, doesn’t just watch. He leans closer, and his fingers find yours under the sheet. He brings them to his lips, placing slow, pressing kisses on your skin. Each one is a promise disguised as tenderness, an intimate gesture distorted by the intensity of his gaze. “Sleep well, Mom,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse, almost hypnotic. His fingers slowly trace circles on the back of your hand, a gesture that is both soothing and insidiously possessive.

The silence that follows is heavy, almost oppressive. They stay there for a moment, motionless, as if savoring the moment. The air is saturated with their presence, with that latent tension that sticks to your skin. Then, slowly, they leave the room, each of their steps resonating like a promise to return. The door remains ajar, a deliberate opening, as if to remind you that they could come back at any moment.

Even when their silhouettes disappear, their presence continues to permeate the atmosphere. Every fiber of your being is marked by them, like an indelible imprint. You close your eyes, but their control remains there, chained to you, anchored deep in your mind. You still feel the weight of their gaze on your body, the burn of their caresses on your skin. Even in your sleep, you know they are still there, ready to interfere in the slightest crack.

You slowly emerge from sleep, your muscles numb with a fatigue you can't explain. Your body is still heavy and painful, as if it were still carrying the weight of an opaque dream, a mixture of shadows and sensations that escapes you. However, reality imposes itself brutally on you, through the intoxicating smell of food that invades the room. It slips into your nostrils, hot, spicy, almost indecent. Each breath is an intrusive caress, stirring a primitive hunger that awakens in the pit of your belly. Your stomach gurgles with brutal intensity, a guttural noise that echoes in the silence, like an imperious reminder of your body's needs.

You straighten up with difficulty, your bare feet meeting the cold of the ground. The sensation passes through you like an icy shock, tearing a shiver that runs down your spine. Your legs wobble, still marked by a dull fatigue, the exhaustion of an effort that you have no memory of having made. But something pushes you forward, an irresistible force, almost animal. Attracted by the heady smell, you advance slowly into the corridor, the weight of each step reinforcing the impression of sinking deeper into an invisible trap.

As you approach the kitchen, the sounds become clearer: deep voices, interspersed with stifled laughter and knowing murmurs. The atmosphere is heavy, saturated with a dull tension, like a promise left hanging. A strange excitement simmers beneath the surface, a latent threat that mixes with your hunger, making each step harder, each breath heavier.

As you cross the threshold of the kitchen, their voices abruptly stop, and their gazes turn to you as if they were waiting for you. The silence that follows is oppressive, almost suffocating. Your stomach gurgles again, a vulgar and inappropriate sound that seems to resonate throughout the room. Their conversation stops, and their eyes lock on yours with a disturbing, almost predatory intensity. Their gazes scrutinize you, slide over your body with a calculated slowness, as if they take pleasure in observing every detail, every shiver that you cannot contain.

Feeling exposed under this burning attention, you instinctively wrap an arm around your stomach, hoping to erase the obvious vulnerability your body betrays. But this paltry gesture of protection only intrigues them more. Their gazes become more insistent, more heavy, lingering on the curve of your shoulders, the tension in your jaw, the slightest hesitation in your breath. The air around you seems to thicken, like an invisible spider's web slowly tightening around you.

Sunghoon, still in front of the stove, looks up at you. “I hope you don’t mind that we used your kitchen, bunny,” he murmurs, his voice low and drawling, like a dangerous promise whispered in your ear. The seemingly innocuous nickname sounds different in his mouth—intimate, possessive, like a chain he’s gently pulling to draw you to him. He stirs the pan with an almost provocative slowness, a barely perceptible smile floating on his lips. His gaze remains anchored to yours, heavy with innuendo, letting you understand that this isn’t just about cooking.

“Jay usually does it,” he adds, his tone deceptively light contrasting with the palpable tension in the room. “I’m not the best, but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway.” His words are measured, each syllable a subtle test of how far he can take this game. He smiles, and the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes lets you know he’s already savoring the effect he’s having on you.

Jake, leaning casually against the counter, bursts out laughing, his deep, raspy laugh resonating like an abrasive caress on your skin. He straightens slightly, his gaze locked on yours with an unsettling intensity. “Hoon, a good cook? Damn, we’ve known for a long time that he’s not.” His smile widens, revealing a hint of provocation in his clear eyes. “Jay spends his time yelling at him as soon as he touches a pot. Seriously, that guy can set fire to water.”

He lets out a small, amused snort, his lips stretching into a mocking grin. But behind this apparent lightness, you perceive something else: a sly malice, a calculated provocation, as if he takes pleasure in destabilizing you. Every word he says, every gesture he makes, is a disguised invitation, a trap set under a casual appearance.

Then, as if his joke was just an excuse, Jake slowly slides his gaze from Sunghoon to you. His smile widens, revealing a glint of cheeky defiance. “Honestly, honey, I suggest you don’t touch that thing if you don’t want to be stuck in bed all day…” He trails off, a calculated silence stretching out, and when he continues, his voice is lower, slipping like an intimate whisper against your ear. “Although… maybe being stuck in bed with us wouldn’t be such a bad idea, right?”

The suggestion hits you right in the heart, a burning wave of discomfort and excitement mingling together rising within you. The weight of his words seeps under your skin, insidious, and you struggle to hide the heat that intrudes despite yourself. But it’s no use. They’ve seen that fleeting glint in your eyes—a fragility you thought was hidden, a desire you refuse to admit. They still see it. Their ability to read you with unnerving precision makes you vulnerable. Your soft laugh escapes your lips, clumsy, trying to break the tension. But the sound echoes through the kitchen like a false note, amplifying instead of soothing. Their gazes grow heavy, sharper, as if your laughter has just given them exactly what they’ve been waiting for.

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” you say softly, almost in a desperate attempt to assert a control you can already feel slipping through your fingers. But your whisper lacks confidence. It hangs in the air between you, fragile, like a futile attempt to push back an inescapable tide. And that uncertainty only fuels the intensity in their eyes. Sunghoon looks away briefly, and you catch a glimpse of the faint blush that colors his cheeks. He coughs awkwardly, but you note the tension in his shoulders and the nervous way his fingers clench around the handle of the pan.

His movements, slow and calculated, take on an almost intimate dimension. He stirs the contents of the pan with exaggerated attention, as if he were trying to prolong this moment suspended in the heavy air of the kitchen. Each movement of his wrists is too precise, too controlled, as if he wanted to transform this simple gesture into something more suggestive. You feel an unpleasant shiver brush the back of your neck.

“It was well-intentioned, after all…” you murmur, your own words wavering between an apology and an attempt to minimize what’s happening before your eyes. But that sentence, far from lightening the atmosphere, seems to make it more oppressive. Jake lets out a low chuckle, that vibrating, insidious sound that grips your chest like an invisible chain. He straightens up with calculated slowness, his movements imbued with that dangerous nonchalance that is his own, and takes a step toward you.

Each step sounds like a veiled promise, a bittersweet threat. He stops just close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body against yours, but not quite touching. His proximity envelops you, and you feel that magnetic tension between your bodies, heavy with unspoken expectations. “Good intentions, huh?” he repeats, tilting his head slightly, his eyes lingering over your face with a devouring insistence. His breath brushes your skin, and the sensation is soft enough to be pleasant, but intrusive enough to shake you. An uncontrollable shiver runs down your spine, and you know he’s noticed. “That’s cute of you to think that.”

His tone is a velvety whisper, but his words are sharp, like a blade gently grazing your skin without piercing it. You are trapped, unable to move, between Jake’s casual arrogance and Sunghoon’s silent but overwhelming presence. One toys with you, skillfully pulling the invisible strings of your discomfort, while the other watches you with a latent intensity, waiting for his moment to intervene.

You understand then, with a frightening clarity, that they are not simply there to make you taste a dubious dish. Their gestures, their looks, their words are imbued with a hunger much deeper, much darker. A hunger that exceeds the one your stomach demands. What they want from you is not innocent. They feed on your reactions, delighting in each shiver, each blush, like predators savoring the moment before pouncing on their prey.

And you, motionless in this cramped kitchen, you already feel the noose tightening.

Your stomach rumbles again, and an insatiable heat invades your body, spreading from your head to your toes. The intensity of Jake’s gaze almost makes you swoon, and you look away, unable to withstand his hypnotic power. But he doesn’t let you escape. With a firm movement, he grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to meet his piercing gaze, his dark eyes burning with a desire you can’t ignore. The connection between you is palpable, an electric tension that seems to vibrate in the air.

“I see you’re hungry, Mom,” he murmurs, his deep, smooth voice making you shiver. His words sound like an invitation to succumb to temptation. He slides his fingers over your jaw, caressing your skin with an almost painful delicacy. The attention makes you shudder, and the embarrassment ignites into an irresistible desire. “Get on your knees, I’ll feed you my seed, since you can’t wait any longer.” His words, tinged with an undeniable impetuosity, resonate in you like an indecent promise, and you are immediately invaded by a wave of heat that surges through your body.

Without resistance, you drop to your knees in front of him, a burning submission of arousal flooding through you. You're aware of your vulnerability, but the feeling is strangely exhilarating. The position makes you feel both desirable and exposed, and you shudder in anticipation, your gaze fixed on his crotch.

“Jake…” you call out shyly, your voice trembling betraying your excitement. Your eyes search for Sunghoon, who stands there, unfazed, leaning against the stove. He watches the scene with a smirk, his eyes shining with a pernicious amusement that only increases your discomfort. You wonder what he thinks of this situation, but the anxiety is quickly chased away by a stronger urge.

“Oh… honey, you’re so cute,” Jake says, his mocking tone making you blush. He’s noticed your concern and turns it to his advantage. “You’re worried about what Hoon thinks? But he loves this, watching you get fucked by his fucking best friend, doesn’t he, Hoon?” His voice, drawling and mocking, makes you shudder as he strokes your hair, tugging on it with rough tenderness. Each pull makes you let out small moans, and you hear Sunghoon hum softly, nodding to what’s playing out in front of him, as if he’s taking perverse pleasure in watching your downfall.

“How about we put on a little show for him to jerk off to?” Jake whispers, leaning down towards you, his hot breath brushing your skin. His dirty words, like fireworks in your mind, make you gasp, each syllable amplifying the intense desire that makes your heart beat faster. You feel a dull wetness between your thighs, the promise of unspoken pleasure. Your face heats up as he chuckles, his lips brushing your skin with disconcerting sensuality. “Hmm… I knew you were a good girl for us,” he whispers, a smirk on his lips. “Now open wide for me.”

He stands up, towering over the room, a burning gaze fixed on your mouth that slowly opens for him, like a silent invitation full of obscene promises. Every movement of his body is charged with power and desire, and you feel your heart racing. In a gesture imbued with confidence, he undoes his pants, letting the fabric slide down his hips with delicious slowness, before lowering his boxers. His cock springs out, already oozing pre-cum, an indecent offering that gently smacks against your face. The impact makes you gasp, a delicious surprise that sends a wave of heat rising through you, as you shiver at the feeling of that heat, both sticky and cold, spreading across your skin.

The musky, intoxicating scent that rises in the air catches you by the throat, enveloping you in an almost unreal state of arousal. Your senses are alert, vibrating, and a part of you is eager to taste every bit of it, every drop. Your fingers, trembling with anticipation, instinctively go to your face, dragging over the slippery texture before being gently pressed against your parted lips. 

You start sucking on your fingers, licking them thoroughly, savoring the salty taste that fills your mouth and makes an irrepressible urge rise within you. Your eyes, shining with desire and defiance, remain fixed on him, observing every reaction on his face as he watches you, visibly intoxicated by the scene. The moans you let out around your fingers are like a sensual melody that draws him in even more, pushing him to lose control.

Continuing to suck on your fingers, you push yourself up slightly on your knees, edging closer to him, your body throbbing with anticipation. Your tongue finds its way between your lips, sliding gently to lick up the last drops of pre-cum that bead at the tip of his member. The touch of your tongue on his warm, smooth skin sends shivers of pleasure down his spine, and you see his muscles tense under your touch. He lets out a guttural sigh, a note of desire that resonates in the air. You can see the tension in his muscles, the impatience building as he stares at you, eagerly wanting.

“Fuck… I didn’t know you were such a slut, bunny.” Sunghoon lets out the words with a mix of frustration and raw desire, his heated gaze settling on you as you turn your head to Jake, his enthusiasm palpable. Jealousy seizes Sunghoon, washing over him like a rising tide. His body reacts with a burning intensity, an irresistible drive that urges him to possess you right then and there.

He watches every detail, every movement of your body. When you slowly remove your wet fingers from your lips, the soft, wet sound that escapes them resonates in the air, sending a shiver down his spine. You open your mouth, a raw and bold invitation, exposing your gaping, dilated throat to their hungry gazes. The expression of your submission, mixed with a wild audacity, excites Sunghoon beyond control.

Fuck, he would give anything to be the one fucking your throat, to be the one you remember in your darkest dreams. The image of you, head tilted back, mouth wide open and ready to receive him, is imprinted on his mind like an obsession. He already imagines his hips thrusting forward hard, his member sinking deep inside you, filling you completely, until you are completely his.

He can almost hear your moans, mingling with the hot sounds of his flesh against your throat as you face him with a consuming submission. The thought of being the one dominating you, of having you crack under his weight, sets him aflame with desire. He wants to feel your throat contract around him, to hear you call his name as you succumb to the madness of the pleasure he gives you.

Jake, for his part, seems to be savoring this moment, his gaze fixed on you, and it only adds to Sunghoon’s frustration. “You know what I would do if I were him?” he whispers, his voice a mix of challenge and promise, a dark invitation to debauchery. “I would grab you by the hair, I would take you roughly, filling you with everything you desire, until you lose your mind.”

Those words echo through you like a devastating echo, making you wetter as you rub your thighs together, an insatiable heat flooding through you. The wetness between them becomes almost unbearable, a tide of desire engulfing you. You know full well that these are not just empty words. Sunghoon will eventually act on it, you are convinced of it, because he is a man of his word. The wait is a delicious poison that excites you even more.

Suddenly, Jake catches your attention, his hand grabbing your jaw to turn your head towards him, breaking the eye contact that bound you to Sunghoon. The moment is electric, and you feel a palpable tension in the air, a power struggle between the two men. As you are forced to look at him, he gives you an intense, almost possessive look. Before you can react, he roughly shoves his cock down your throat, causing a moan of surprise and pleasure to rise from your chest.

“I want you to focus on me, not him,” he says, his voice thick with jealousy and desire. Each word is a command, a demand that resonates deep within you. Tears well up in your eyes as he forces you to take him all the way, your body reacting against your will. You can feel his hot, hard member slide into your throat, a brutal intrusion that makes you shudder with pleasure and pain.

He begins to move slowly in your mouth, his hips moving with calculated sensuality, each movement charged with an almost palpable intensity. His eyes, filled with unquenchable desire, scrutinize you with an almost possessive attention. He groans with pleasure, a throaty, guttural sound that resonates in the air, awakening in you a burning desire, an irrepressible urge to satisfy him. The heat of your mouth envelops him, soft and wet, and you feel his cock pulse against your tongue, an irresistible invitation to submit completely to his desires. Every movement he makes bewitches you, your saliva flowing around him, making every friction even more pleasurable, every pressure an exquisite delight.

Tightening your lips around him, you slide your tongue along his smooth skin, exploring every prominent vein, every perfect curve. You linger on the head, playing with the musky taste of his flesh, a mix of sweat and desire that intoxicates all your senses. With each in and out of your tongue, you feel his breath grow shorter, more panting, while his moans of pleasure, guttural sounds, encourage you to intensify your game. You want him to feel as good as he makes you feel, as if he's burning you from the inside out.

Your hands move to his thighs, caressing them gently, brushing his skin with addictive softness, all the while coaxing him deeper into your throat. The sensation is both unsettling and delicious, your esophagus dilating as you swallow him completely, his warmth mixing with your saliva. Each thrust is a struggle between the desire to let him do it and the need to catch your breath, an erotic dance where you gradually lose control. His cock invades your being, and each movement makes him sink even deeper into you, pushing the limits of your own submission.

He grips your hair tightly, tugging slightly, forcing you to take him even more. You feel the pressure growing in your throat, and a shiver of pleasure washes over you, mixed with a slight choking that makes you want him even more. You are at his mercy, completely his, savoring every moment of this delicious humiliation. His hip thrusts become deeper and faster, and you feel tears leak from your eyes, a mixture of pleasure and pain as you struggle to stay focused on the task at hand.

“Fuck… Hoon, come see how perfectly her throat fits my cock.” Jake’s voice echoes through the kitchen, deep and husky, each syllable vibrating with perverse pleasure. His ragged breaths betray his arousal as he continues to thrust into your mouth roughly, a frenzied and merciless pace. Each thrust propels him inside you, tearing out gasps from you, a symphony of pain and pleasure mixed together. Your hands, trapped in his muscular thighs, claw desperately at his flesh, searching for a way to breathe, a temporary escape from this suffocating embrace. But he gives you no chance. Each thrust is deeper than the last, each movement more violent, as if he seeks to possess you entirely.

“Look at that, Hoon… She swallows it like a pro.” His smirk stretches on his lips, a mix of pride and desire as his cock briefly pops out of your mouth, covered in thick drool, leaving slimy trails on your chin. Sunghoon, intrigued, approaches with an aroused expression, his eyes scanning your throat that swells with each penetration. You can feel the heat of his body, his aura of adrenaline and power sucking you into a vortex of desire.

“Fuck… Did you see how his windpipe moves with your cock?” he says, his voice almost hypnotic. He runs a finger down your throat, caressing the obscene outline that forms with each thrust. The feel of his finger on your delicate skin intensifies your desire, a dull heat spreading through you. Each of Jake’s movements becomes painfully precise, merciless, increasing your insatiable need to be taken. Tears begin to shine in your eyes, a testament to the struggle between pain and pleasure as your throat contracts around his flesh. Jake laughs softly, a guttural sound that resonates in the air, the echo of the pleasure he draws from your suffering.

“You like it, don’t you, bunny?” Sunghoon whispers, his voice soft and sweet mixing with the brutality of the moment. You nod, an unconscious gesture that pushes Jake’s cock even further inside, and you let out a cry of surprise, an almost animalistic sound, which only heightens their arousal. Sunghoon then grabs your throat, squeezing slowly, his penetrating gaze never leaving you, observing the expressions of pain mixed with ecstasy on your face. Your breathing becomes chaotic, tremors shaking your body under the increasing pressure.

Sunghoon’s grip tightens you around Jake’s cock, intensifying the friction, causing a wave of heat to run through your body. Jake groans, that primal sound echoing through the room, resonating like a promise of pleasure and debauchery. “Yeah, squeeze his throat again, whore.” His fingers dig into your hair, forcing you to keep him deep inside you, an uncompromising domination. You gasp, wet gurgles escaping your filled mouth, mixed with muffled moans, testifying to your inability to breathe. The pain becomes a backdrop of pleasure, a mixture of sensations that takes you into a spiral of despair and pleasure.

Each thrust becomes rougher, deeper, reducing your breath to short, uncontrollable gasps. Jake picks up the pace, pounding into your mouth with an animalistic intensity, like a hunter feasting on his prey. His hips thrust with an irresistible frenzy, each movement emphasizing his power over you, each assault making you lose more of your lucidity. Tears flood your face, tracing bright lines across your hot, swollen cheeks, your gaze losing its shine as pain mixes with ecstasy, creating a vivid tableau of your defeat.

“Look at her, Hoon… Look how beautiful she is when she’s dying for my cock,” Jake hisses, his pleasure growing as your face twists with the effort. Sunghoon chuckles softly, his thumb sliding over your parted lips, opening them a little more, as if to make the spectacle even more obscene and disturbing. Every movement becomes a statement of possession, a brutal reminder of their power over you, as if your pain were a trophy.

Jake leans forward, his veins bulging, his guttural groans growing raspier. “You feel it, huh? The way she squeezes even tighter with your hand around her throat…” Sunghoon doesn’t let up, intensifying each violent thrust, the heat of his body against yours creating an atmosphere thick with desire. Jake pushes in all the way to the hilt, holding your breath completely for endless seconds, leaving you gasping for air, before pulling out just enough to let you breathe. The first breath is painful, a mixture of relief and suffocation that makes your heart race.

Your face is a painting of tears, drool, and desire, every line revealing how hungry your body is for more. Jake’s perverse ecstasy only grows, like a devastating storm that breaks over your consciousness. He speeds up again, fucking your mouth with desperate violence, each movement leaving its mark on your body, while Sunghoon keeps his grip tight around your throat, controlling your spasms, your tremors, like a puppeteer pulling the strings of his toy.

“Fuck, you’re perfect like this,” Jake groans, his thrusts becoming erratic, close to orgasm. You let out a final strangled gurgle, your throat unable to handle the final assault. Sunghoon loosens his grip slightly to grant you a short reprieve, but it’s only so Jake can thrust deeper into you, reducing you to a state of total submission.

Jake pushes your head down with palpable authority, his manhood sliding deep into your mouth, forcing you to devour him. You feel the heat and musky scent of his body intensify as he pushes you to take him all the way. Anxiety mixes with excitement, your heart racing as you feel trapped between humiliation and unmatched pleasure. Every pulse of his cock against your tongue sends shivers down your spine, immersing you in delicious ecstasy.

As he keeps his hold on your hair, he leaves you there, struggling to breathe. The salty taste of his skin mixes with your saliva, and you're completely lost, numb to the mixture of sensations flooding your mind. Tears start to pool in the corners of your eyes again, but it's not the pain that worries you. It's the overwhelming urge for more, to take it all in. The pressure in your throat reminds you of your place, and every second you spend taking him turns you into a little more of a pleasure doll.

Jake growls in need, his raspy sounds filling the air with erotic tension. “Fuck… I’m gonna cum,” he whispers, his words wrapping around you like a promise. His thrusts become harder, messier, each thrust driving him deeper, pushing you deeper into the whirlpool of desire.

Sunghoon releases your neck completely, a lustful glint burning in his eyes. “Fill her, Jake,” he orders, and the way he says it makes your heart pound uncontrollably. His authority resonates through you, reminding you how much you’re at their mercy. You feel a wave of heat wash over you at the thought, and you know you’re caught in a dangerous game, but it turns you on even more.

Jake resumes his thrusts with an unbridled frenzy, pushing you to the brink of suffocation. Each press of his cock against your tongue makes your body vibrate, and as he pushes your head one last time into his pubic bone, you know you're about to cross a limit. The pleasure explodes inside him, a torrent of pleasure pouring down your throat, overwhelming you with the heat of his orgasm.

You're forced to swallow, and you do your best to take it all in, fighting the urge to spit, but drops escape, falling onto the kitchen floor, wetting your pajamas. The sounds of your swallowing and the moans you can't hold back create an obscene melody, filling the space with raw, wild energy.

Sunghoon moves closer, his eyes never leaving your face, watching every move with an intensity that makes you shudder. He knows you’re at their mercy, and this power grab drives him crazy with desire. “You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his smooth voice enveloping your skin, and you’re surprised by the excitement that rises within you at his words.

Jake finally releases you, but the warmth of his body remains etched in your memory. The room is hot, almost stifling, and every breath you take seems to be a mixture of pleasure and pain. Sunghoon leans down to you, his eyes searching your face with a consuming fascination. 

“I thought you were starving, bunny, but what’s all this waste?” Sunghoon asks, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he scans the floor, stained with Jake’s cum. His gaze is penetrating, almost devouring, making you shiver with unwelcome arousal. He leans down slightly, his eyes glinting with sadistic amusement, every movement emphasizing his dominance.

“Clean.” His voice, cold and mocking, echoes through the room, a command that vibrates something deep within you. Your mind, still hazy from pleasure, struggles to comprehend the gravity of the situation. Part of you disagrees, but another is drawn to this power, to this submission.

"Hoon—"

“Shh…” He cuts you off, a commanding, icy glare that pins you to the spot. The deceptive softness of his voice terrifies you as much as it excites you. “Now do as I say before I make you.” His words are simple, but they carry a crushing weight, a challenge you know you can’t resist. You feel the blood pulsing through your veins, a dull heat rising to your head.

“Don’t be naughty, Mom.” Jake steps in then, his hand sliding gently over your head, caressing you in a way that, against all odds, feels good. A small moan escapes your lips, an involuntary response to his touch. Each caress is a reminder of the degrading situation you’re in, but paradoxically, it makes something primal vibrate within you.

Your face burns with shame as you feel your fingers approach Jake’s seed, hot and sticky on the floor. Sunghoon slaps your hand, making you let out a small hiss. The mixture of pain and humiliation makes your heart beat wildly. “With your tongue, I want you to lick.” His voice is soft, almost sensual, but his gaze leaves no doubt as to his intention. A wave of heat invades you, and you know you can’t refuse.

Looking at Sunghoon, you know his challenge is more than just a game. With palpable hesitation, you stick your tongue out, the heat of humiliation mixing with a disturbing arousal. You lick Jake’s seed, the warm, slimy texture mixing with the saliva on your tongue. Each movement is an act of submission, an acceptance of their dominance over you. You drag your tongue out, savoring the wetness of your humiliation, and swallow, the acrid taste imprinting itself on your palate.

“You’re a good girl for us, Professor,” Jake says, his voice laced with a mixture of mockery and approval. Looking up, you’re aware of the burning in your cheeks, your entire body trembling with a mixture of shame and excitement. Every glance they give you makes you feel like an object, something to be devoured. You can’t help but look down, avoiding their gaze, eager to escape the intensity of their attention.

“Look at me, Y/n.” Jake orders you, taking your chin in a firm grip. He forces your gaze to meet his, but your eyes are shifty, trying to avoid his hold. Every second that passes under his gaze makes you feel more and more vulnerable, like your soul is exposed.

“Fuck, I said look at me.” He shouts, his voice filled with frustration as he tightens his grip on your chin. A shiver runs through you, and you’re forced to look at him, fear wrapping itself around you like a hug. “Never be ashamed in front of us, and never run away from my gaze, ever.” His anger and burning desire consume you, forcing you to feel the intensity of his dominance.

“I’m sorry…” You whisper, tears of shame streaming down your cheeks, your heart racing under his merciless gaze. You feel small, exposed, like you’re entirely at their mercy.

“Hey, bunny, it’s okay.” Sunghoon tells you in a tone that’s meant to be reassuring, but you know that even he hides a form of cruelty beneath his gentleness. He pulls you away from Jake and turns you towards him, placing your head against his chest. His body is warm and reassuring, but you can’t ignore the shiver of anxiety that invades you.

He begins to gently caress your shaking back as the tears continue to fall. His touch is both tender and possessive, as if he wants to protect you while keeping you at his mercy. “Jake isn’t mad at you, you know that, right?” He whispers in your ear, his voice smooth as velvet, but you can sense the threat lurking beneath his words.

You nod, seeking refuge in his arms, but you're still aware of Jake's shadow, ever-present. The air is thick with tension, and you know this isn't over. What they want from you goes far beyond physical humiliation. They want to break you, but they also want to build you up to their dark desires.

Sunghoon gently pushes you away, his piercing gaze locked on yours as you remain frozen in his comforting embrace. The warmth of his body, combined with the anguish that invades you, creates a confusing mix of emotions. He wipes away the tears that run down your cheeks with his thumbs, his gestures filled with tenderness, as if he wants to make all the pain you have felt disappear. After wiping away your tears, he leans towards you, his lips delicately touching your forehead before settling on your nose. The simple gesture evokes an almost childish sweetness, drawing a light laugh from you that resonates in the air heavy with tension.

But that laugh is soon replaced by a thrill of excitement as his smile widens, revealing his white, shiny teeth, almost predatory. He steps closer, his lips landing on yours with a devouring fervor that makes your heart beat erratically. The passion he gives off envelops you like a cocoon, and you feel your mind fog up in a torrid heat. The moment is charged with electricity, every movement a promise, an invitation to lose yourself in this dark moment, beyond your limits.

He doesn’t give a damn that you still have Jake’s taste in your mouth, a bitter taste that lingers like an unpleasant shadow. Sunghoon pushes his tongue into your mouth, exploring every corner with a wild intensity. The exchange is raw, almost possessive, and you feel his hot breath mix with yours. He plays with your tongue, drawing you into a whirlwind of sensations. Each caress of his tongue electrifies you, and you begin to remember all the delicious sensations he arouses in you. The salty aftertaste of Jake’s cum mixes with your flavor, the combination making him shudder with excitement.

It’s like a game, a challenge between the two men, each seeking to claim your body, your heart, your soul. As his tongue moves with disconcerting expertise, he kisses you so deeply that you feel like you’re losing yourself completely. Sunghoon sucks you in, leaving you panting, wanting more. His hands grip your waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, as if he wants to mark his territory.

“I’m starving,” he whispers, his raspy voice full of unfulfilled desire. He finally releases you, but just enough to kiss you quickly before standing up. His strong arms lift you effortlessly, carrying you to the dining table. The cold surface of the wood surprises you, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body. The sensation makes you shiver, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness.

“I thought we were going to eat?” you ask softly, your tone betraying your shock at this new situation, your voice trembling slightly as you look at him with feigned innocence.

“I'm going to eat your pussy,” he states bluntly, his heated gaze letting you know he's not joking. His fingers slide over the fabric of your pajamas, running over your delicate skin, and he begins to tug the garment down. The sound of the fabric ruffling mixes with your panting breaths as the room seems to fill with palpable tension.

He discovers your soaked panties, and his smile widens, revealing a sick satisfaction. With calculated delicacy, he also pulls your panties down, revealing your femininity to his insistent gaze. The air becomes hot around you, charged with an erotic tension that makes your heart beat wildly. The feeling of the cool air on your exposed skin makes you shiver, and you feel a surge of desire with each passing second.

Sunghoon slowly crouches down, his eyes never leaving yours. He admires the sight you offer him, your soft, vulnerable skin, and the moisture that gathers there. His hands slide along your thighs, lingering on every inch of your skin, and his fingers get lost in the contours of your body. Each caress is a promise, each movement is a warning. He knows exactly what he's doing, and he loves the power he has over you.

His lips brush your thigh, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He runs his tongue along the inside of your thigh, tasting your warmth, his hot breath making the adrenaline rush through your veins. His movements are slow, almost agonizing, as he slowly approaches your heat. Each brush of his tongue against your skin is a whiplash that sets you on fire. You want to grab him, to beg him not to stop, but some deep instinct pushes you to submit to his pace.

Sunghoon finally stops in front of your pussy, swollen and dripping, shamelessly exposed on the cold surface of the kitchen table. His dark gaze is fixed on your throbbing intimacy, and he slowly runs his tongue over his lips, like a predator ready to devour its prey. Without a word, he violently squeezes your thighs, his fingers digging into your skin with a brutal grip, leaving red marks in their wake. Then, with a sudden movement, he pulls you roughly towards the edge of the table, your pelvis sliding dangerously until your sex is within immediate reach of his mouth.

Without warning, he dives between your thighs with bestial voracity. His lips press against your flesh, hot and eager, brushing your clit with cruel slowness. His tongue ventures in light strokes, teasing just enough to send a shiver down your spine, but never enough to quell your need. You instinctively grip the edge of the table with one hand, nails digging into the wood, while small moans escape you despite yourself, muffled awkwardly behind your free, trembling hand.

“You think I’m going to let you hide like this?” he hisses, his voice low and menacing, tinged with contempt. His gaze burns with fierce impatience, and before you can even answer, his teeth clamp down on your clit. The shock hits you, the pain ripping through you, tearing a strangled cry from your lips. A violent burn radiates through your lower abdomen, blurring the line between agony and pleasure.

Sunghoon slowly releases his bite, letting your skin pulse between his lips as his eyes pierce you, full of cruel satisfaction. “I want to hear every little whimper, bunny. No filter, no control.” His fingers tighten on your thigh with such force that you’re sure he’ll leave you with bruises. “Don’t hide them from me, or I’ll make you regret it.”

His tone is sharp, and a dull fear grips you, mixed with an arousal as irrational as it is uncontrollable. Trembling, you remove your hand from your mouth, abandoning any pretense of restraint. Every moan, every breath escapes you with a raw, uncontrollable honesty. Sunghoon sketches a satisfied smile at your surrender. “Good girl…” he murmurs with perverse satisfaction.

Without wasting a second, he plunges back between your thighs, but this time with a merciless intensity. His tongue wraps around your clitoris, torturing it with calculated and precise movements, alternating between languid strokes and brutal pressures. Each slide of his tongue is a delicious torture that brings you a little closer to the edge, playing with your body as if you belong entirely to him. His lips suck your flesh with an obscene fervor, leaving behind a trail of hot saliva that drips down your thighs.

He thrusts two fingers inside you without warning, forcing the passage with controlled brutality. Your body arches violently under the assault, and a mixture of pain and intense pleasure makes you lose all sense of control. The wet smack of his movements echoes in the silent room, an echo of the obscenity of the moment. Each thrust of his fingers is punctuated by the muffled sound of his tongue on your clit, pushing you further into a spiral of destructive desire.

“Look at you… You’re mine, aren’t you?” he growls against your skin, his words vibrating with possessiveness. His tongue lashes at you, his fingers digging deeper, and your body writhes beneath him, unable to resist the brutal ecstasy he’s forcing upon you. Pleasure surges through you, consuming you from the inside out, until every nerve in your body is on fire.

“Yes… I belong to you, Hoon,” you whisper between breathless moans, your voice betraying the mixture of ecstasy and desperation that consumes you as your body becomes prey to his relentless assaults. Each movement of his fingers awakens a raw sensitivity in you that seems to exceed the limits of your resistance, making each caress more unbearable and delicious at the same time.

“Yes, bunny… fuck,” he growls, his raspy voice echoing in the lust-laden air. He abruptly removes his fingers from your pussy, which clenches desperately around the void, leaving you in an unbearable state of need. A feeling of frustration washes over you, almost painful, as you let out a pitiful whimper, your breathing ragged. 

Sunghoon brings his lips back to your pussy, his hot breath enveloping your intimacy, causing a wave of heat to run through you. He sniffs the sweet scent of your desire, an intoxicating scent that excites him, and a guttural moan escapes his throat, a bestial sound that makes you shudder. Your body reacts instinctively, wriggling on the table, trying to free yourself from his hold. But he grips your thighs tightly, his fingers digging into your tender flesh, crushing you against the cold surface of the wood.

“Don’t you even dare run away from me, fucking,” he growls, his voice husky, tinged with a delicious menace that makes you tingle with anticipation. His eyes shine with a dark glow, a mix of desire and dominance. Before you can protest, he lowers himself, his lips finding their way to your clit. His mouth opens, his teeth gently nibbling at the sensitive flesh, and a cry of pleasure escapes your lips, inescapable.

He releases his hold, his hands slowly sliding down your thighs, caressing your soft, warm skin as you lie on the table. His fingers explore every inch, delicately brushing your flesh before stopping just above your pussy, where anticipation is skyrocketing. His hands tremble slightly, betraying the palpable arousal emanating from him, as he wraps his lips around your sex. The taste of your skin, mixed with your arousal, nearly drives him mad with desire.

His mouth opens, and you can feel his hot breath on your intimate part, like a delicious prelude to what he is about to do. Sunghoon begins to devour you with an insatiable hunger, his movements languid and deliberate. Each pressure of his lips and tongue makes you shudder with pleasure, as if each caress is a promise of what is to come.

His gaze is hungry, an animalistic glint in his eyes, like a predator about to devour its prey. You feel his nose brush gently against your clit, each touch causing an electric shiver that runs through you from head to toe. He drinks in you, his tongue acting like an agile snake, sliding between your lips, exploring every corner of your sex, delighting in your arousal without any restraint. The warmth of his tongue, soft and firm, combined with the pressure of his lips, creates an almost surreal sensation, a sensory experience that you can't do without.

Moans escape your lips, an involuntary, uncontrollable sound, echoing the intensity of the pleasure that invades you. Each movement of his tongue seems to ignite the nerves of your body, each lick causing waves of heat that envelop you like a blanket of pleasure. You feel the tension rising inside you, a wave of intense desire pulsing between your thighs. Tears begin to flow from your eyes, salty drops mixed with ecstasy, while your mouth, wide open in pleasure, lets out drool, proof of your total surrender to the sensation.

Suddenly, he thrusts his tongue deep into your pussy, which tightens around him, welcoming that hot member with desperate greed. Each movement is a wild dance, his tongue exploring the wet walls of your sex, tracing circles, diving into you with voracious determination. The delicious friction he creates with his tongue, moving with mastered expertise, makes your pleasure rise to an almost unbearable level. His movements are rhythmic, like a melody that vibrates every fiber of your being, an intoxicating mix of desire and ecstasy.

Sunghoon swirls his tongue against your walls, his heat and wetness consuming you as he seeks to penetrate you not only physically, but emotionally as well. The intensity of his tongue, coupled with the pressure of his lips, makes you cry out in pleasure, a cry that resonates in the room, an echo of your surrender. His lips are pressed firmly against your flesh, and he begins to suck, drinking in every drop of your arousal. The sound of his mouth working on your sex, a mixture of sucking and moans, becomes a haunting melody that resonates in the hot air around you.

The moans of pleasure he lets out vibrate in your pussy, resonating like a dark and seductive melody that makes you lose your mind. This primal noise, similar to that of an animal on the hunt, takes you even further into ecstasy. You are so absorbed in what he is doing to you that everything else disappears, leaving only the adrenaline and the feeling of his body against yours. Each lick is like a promise, a declaration of his unquenchable desire for you.

You're completely at his mercy, your body reacting to every movement, every caress of his relentlessly exploring tongue. Your stomach twists in pleasure, the pressure building, pushing you towards a climax you know is imminent. Each pulse of pleasure turns into a dance of bursting sensations, preparing you for the final explosion.

He continues to play with your body, his movements becoming more frantic as he senses you are close to the end. The way he devours you is both rough and delicate, as if he is trying to break you and rebuild you at the same time. Each lick seems to take you higher, a mixture of pain and pleasure that makes you cry out his name, a desperate chant echoing through the room.

“Harder,” you manage to whisper, your voice cracking with ecstasy, but he doesn’t just obey. He intensifies his efforts, his tongue delving deeper into your intimacy, while his fingers, now skilled, come to strike your clitoris with disconcerting precision. The combination of his movements, the heat of his tongue and the pressure of his fingers makes you teeter on the edge. The overstimulation becomes almost unbearable. You try to push his head back from between your thighs, but he clings to you with a savage determination, diving even deeper into your flesh.

Your screams escape your lips, strangled, inarticulate, as you lose all control. Your eyes roll back, and the sensation is so strong that you feel like you're floating above your body, about to explode into a thousand pieces. His pace becomes frantic, each movement of his tongue and lips taking you further into an ocean of pleasure.

Finally, he pulls away, but not without one last lick that makes you shiver. He has that mischievous smile on his lips, a mix of conquest and insatiable desire. He drinks in the sight of your exhausted body on the table, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. His fingers slide along your skin, caressing your curves with an almost brutal delicacy, as if he’s savoring the way you’re completely his, vulnerable and exposed.

Jake, who had been watching the spectacle unfold before him, approaches you with a seductive presence, his movements fluid and calculated. He lifts you into his arms, holding you against him with a reassuring strength, as if he possesses you entirely. The heat of his body warms you as you let yourself go, your head resting on his chest. You can feel the rhythm of his heart, beating like a drum in the heavy silence of the room. A palpable feeling of excitement takes hold of you.

“You did so well, darling,” he murmurs softly, his breath warm against your skin, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. He leads you to your room, the air heavy with desire wrapping around you like a thick blanket. With each step, you already feel the weight of your body relax, as if sleep were insistently claiming you. A sweet torpor settles in as he lays you down on the bed, and you feel yourself slowly slipping into a dreamlike state, on the border between reality and illusion.

“So, are you taking her ass or her pussy?” Sunghoon asks, his voice laced with provocation, like a venomous snake. His fingers explore the supple flesh of your thigh, brushing against your skin with a calculated delicacy that sets you ablaze. His eyes lock on Jake, a silent challenge weaving between them, an electric tension that makes the air vibrate around you.

“Her pussy, I want her full of me,” Jake replies, his smile widening, revealing a mix of possessiveness and insatiable desire. He licks his lips, an animalistic glint in his eyes, like a predator ready to devour its prey. “You can have her pussy after, if you want. After all, we have a whole life with her,” he says, his words sounding like a perverse promise, watching your face, already drenched in sweat, your heartbeat quickening under his gaze.

Sunghoon sneers, a note of teasing in his tone, but his voice hides an underlying threat. He cups your face in his hand, and you slowly open your eyes, emerging from your semi-conscious state. “Rabbit, this is not the time to sleep. We’re not done with you yet,” he says, his voice sweet as poisoned honey, but there’s a brutal determination underneath, holding you captive to their desire.

“Hoon… Jake,” you whisper, your voice hoarse betraying the fatigue that’s washing over you. “I’m so tired.” Your voice almost trails off, but the excitement pulses in the air, a wild, unquenchable pulse.

“Mom, let us do everything,” Jake says, gently stroking your sweat-slicked hair. His gaze grows intense as he turns to Sunghoon, a silent exchange of complicity that makes you shiver. Sunghoon lifts your body with unsettling ease, while Jake slides underneath you, resting you delicately on his chest. A small moan escapes your lips at the contact, a wave of pleasure coursing through you like an electric current.

Jake positions his cock at the entrance of your overstimulated pussy, the heat of his body igniting you. Suddenly, he penetrates you deeply. A soft cry escapes your mouth, mixed with a delicious surprise that makes you lose all your bearings. The sensation is both sweet and brutal, a delicate dance between pleasure and pain. You feel a visceral connection, each movement bringing him a little closer to your own loss of control. Jake tenderly caresses your back, his breath hot against your skin, as he stops for a moment, savoring the embrace of your body trembling beneath him.

He lifts your upper body, removing the garment with unsettling ease, revealing your skin to the dim light of the room. Sunghoon, now naked, moves behind you. His cold hands gently spread the cheeks of your ass, causing a shiver that makes you involuntarily pull back, sliding down onto Jake's cock. You both moan at the contact, the heat of your bodies flaring in a mixture of unspoken desires and animalistic urges.

Sunghoon tightens his grip on you, his fingers digging into your flesh with an almost painful intensity, a veiled threat. He can feel the arousal that is invading you, your hole already well prepared by the heat of your pussy. The mixture of your own wetness and the arousal of your previous ejaculation creates a fertile ground for him. In one movement, he enters you with force, and you let out a muffled cry, a combination of pleasure, surprise and a hint of pain that sends you to a dizzying peak.

They both begin to move inside you with calculated slowness, like choreographers of a carefully orchestrated erotic dance. The room is filled with desire, the dim lighting accentuating the shadows of their moving bodies. You are leaning over Jake's body, the heat of his skin against yours reminding you of your vulnerability. Every fiber of your being is at their mercy, making you both feverish and hungry for pleasure, a mixture of anticipation and excitement consuming you.

Your hands grip the bars of the bed, the cold, hard metal contrasting with the burning anxiety that invades you. Your white knuckles bear witness to the excitement and tension that overwhelms you, as you feel Jake's gaze on you, the mix of possessiveness and desire in his eyes electrifying you. Each thrust that Sunghoon sinks into your ass is a dance between pain and pleasure, each movement making you moan in desperation and need, your body bending to their imperious desires.

Jake, with determined strength, lifts his hips, pushing deeper into you, literally breaking you with his relentless assaults. His member hits your inner walls, each impact creating a sweet pain mixed with immeasurable pleasure. You feel his hot, rapid breath on the back of your neck, each exhale caressing you like a promise of what is to come, creating a palpable tension between you. “You are so perfect,” he murmurs, his deep voice resonating in the air heavy with desire and anguish, like a curse enveloping you.

“Fuck… her ass is so tight,” Sunghoon blurts out, his voice laced with palpable greed. He pushes deeper, every movement a declaration of his possession. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, marking your skin with his imprints, holding you captive in this position of surrender. You can feel the pressure of his hands, the mixture of pain and arousal, as your eyes mist over with the intensity of the sensations, tears of pleasure and frustration beading your lashes as you lose your footing in this ocean of delight.

Your body, subjected to this double invasion, demands more, eager to be filled and devastated. The contrast between pain and pleasure becomes intoxicating, enveloping you in a dark veil of desire. Jake, with a mischievous smile, begins to leave burning kisses along the nape of your neck, his soft and warm lips sliding over your skin, each touch awakening shivers of pleasure. Each kiss quickly turns into a bite, his mouth becoming hungrier, more cruel. He sucks your skin fervently, leaving behind red marks, witnesses to his insatiable desire.

“I’m going to anchor myself into your skin,” he breathes in a whisper as his teeth sink into your flesh, a mixture of pain and pleasure resonating through every cell of your body. You let out a shrill cry as his teeth sink into your skin, each bite exacerbating the ecstasy you feel. Adrenaline pulses through your veins, pain combining with pleasure in a symphony of sensations. You are completely at their mercy, a puppet in this obscene game of domination.

Sunghoon kisses your skin with deliberate slowness, his warm lips trailing over your shoulder blade before biting into your flesh, a mixture of pain and pleasure that makes you shudder. Each thrust he gives you is harder than the last, his strength propelling you forward, pushing you deeper onto Jake’s cock, which is just below. You feel a growing tension in your stomach as he thrusts into you, each movement echoing like unfulfilled desires. His hips slam against yours with a brutality that makes you lose all control.

The way Sunghoon thrusts into you, with a bestial insistence, makes a wave of incredible arousal rise in you. And you feel Jake's movements reach your G-spot, and a loud strangled moan escapes your lips, each sound you make resonating in the room like a hymn to pleasure. In that moment, you are overwhelmed by intense sensations, a whirlwind of arousal that consumes you. As you tighten around them, you feel an incredible fusion of bodies, a connection that goes far beyond simple physicality.

Sunghoon grips your hair with a force that makes you blush, tugging firmly to separate you from Jake. He forces you to face him, pressing you against him, his hot, wet breath caressing your ear, adding an extra dimension to the intensity of this moment. “Fuck… you’re incredible,” he growls, his husky voice vibrating with voracious desire as he sucks on your earlobe with such intensity that you feel your heart racing. “I can never walk away from you again, ever.”

His lips slide slowly down your neck, relishing the marks Jake has left on your skin. Each kiss is charged with passion, and he seems to feed off your desire. The heat of his body, mixed with his own and Jake's, completely envelops you, making you vibrate with pleasure. Hearing his breath quicken, you begin to move on Jake, your hips undulating almost instinctively. With each thrust, you push Sunghoon deeper, feeling the ecstasy turn into an explosion of sensations.

Sunghoon attacks the flesh of your unmarked neck, sucking your skin with a passion that leaves you speechless, his tongue sliding over your sweat. He bites without any restraint, and a strangled cry escapes from your mouth, a delicious fusion of pain and pleasure. The brutality of their assaults overwhelms you, leaving you completely lost in this ocean of sensations, your mind evaporating in the heat of the moment. Each movement, each caress, each bite makes you capsize a little more in this indescribable debauchery.

You are completely at their mercy, your senses on high alert, a mixture of wild pleasure and animal instinct. Sunghoon continues to alternate between bites and burning kisses, his gestures becoming more and more greedy. You completely lose your mind, your body reacting without thinking.

Your thoughts fade away, replaced by a visceral need for more, more. Their bodies move together, creating a primal rhythm that pushes you closer to ecstasy. Their breaths mix in the hot, humid air, each moan, each cry intertwining in a melody of desire and satisfaction. The combination of their bodies, their movements, their caresses pushes you to the edge, and you know you're about to explode.

Jake straightens up, a smirk on his lips as he leans down to your breasts, his hot lips settling on your nipple. He sucks, nibbles, and pulls with his teeth, making your body vibrate with intense pleasure. You can feel every movement, every squeeze, like an electric shock running through your skin. Your moans escape, flooding the air with your sensuality as he begins to fondle the other breast with his hand, his fingers roaming and gently pinching the tip. You grip his hair tightly, gasps of pleasure escaping your mouth as your vision blurs, carried away by this wave of arousal.

“Please, Jake… Hoon,” you whisper between sobs, your voice trembling betraying your insatiable desire. Sunghoon’s cold hands explore your ass with perverse delicacy, his nails clawing at your flesh, occasionally digging into your skin with a force that makes you shudder. Each touch makes you writhe in pleasure, a mixture of anxiety and excitement that takes hold of your throat. He spreads your ass cheeks, his gaze shining with animal lust as he watches how your ass swallows his cock, pulling back slightly to gaze at your still spread hole, quivering with anticipation.

“Hoon… please, I need you,” you beg, your pleading voice echoing in the warm air of the room. He chuckles behind you, a sound full of desire, before spitting into your ass, the warm wetness seeping in as your hole begins to close. Saliva drips inside, making you shiver as you feel the warm, lubricating sensation, like a promise of what’s to come.

“Fuck, you need me so bad, bunny,” he growls, slapping your ass so hard that heat seizes your skin, a delicious pain that makes you jump on Jake’s cock. His size distorts your stomach, every movement of his body entering you resonating like a drum, a throbbing heat beating inside you like a racing heart. “You’ve become such a slut for us, Y/n, and I love it,” he continues, grabbing your jaw to turn your face to his. His gaze is wild, fierce, like a predator preparing to seize its prey.

He presses his lips to yours, a hot, possessive kiss as he pushes himself back into your ass, moaning into your mouth. You feel his tongue slide against yours, a mixture of saliva and desire enveloping your bodies. He bites your bottom lip, his hand sliding down your body, exploring every curve with uninhibited expertise. You open your mouth for him, allowing him to slide deeper, letting his tongue infiltrate, exploring your insides as if he were trying to possess you completely.

He tugs on your hair, tilting your head down, forcing you into an uncomfortable position that makes you moan softly. Each tug of his fingers reminds you of how much you are at his mercy. He swallows the sound of your moan without a care, and you begin to suck his tongue like it was his cock, enjoying the incredible sensation. His grunts of pleasure echo in your head, an intoxicating melody that makes you vibrate even more. He loves it, letting you do it, allowing you to lose a little control, as you moan into his mouth.

He releases your hair to grab the back of your neck, pushing his tongue deep into your throat, forcing your mouth open to accommodate what seems like a torrent of pleasure. A gurgle escapes your throat, proof that you are completely at his mercy. He slowly pulls away from your lips, his eyes locked on yours, glassy and filled with an insatiable desire, as if he were ready to do anything to take more of you.

Drool connects your lips, a testament to the intensity of this exchange, this raw passion. Jake thrusts deeper into you, each thrust making you moan at the top of your lungs, your body writhing under his control. The sensation is devastating, a whirlwind of arousal and desire that sweeps you into a wild dance. Each movement becomes a struggle for control, a symphony of pleasure and pain, the sounds of flesh colliding, moans escaping, resonating like an ode to your unbridled passion.

Sunghoon, behind you, holds you tightly, his hands maintaining a grip on your hips, guiding your movements to match Jake’s and his own. He leans close to your ear, whispering words barely audible, but loaded with insatiable desire. “You’re so beautiful when you lose yourself like that,” he says, his husky voice inflaming you even more. You know he’s watching you, attentive to every reaction, every sigh you let out.

The unbearable heat building in your lower abdomen becomes a crushing pressure, making you squirt violently onto Jake’s cock. The orgasm sweeps you away in a wave of indescribable pleasure, a raw drive that surges like a tsunami over every inch of your skin. You feel your muscles contract around him, engulfing his manhood with uncontrollable greed. Yet even in this embrace of ecstasy, he doesn’t slow his pace. On the contrary, he intensifies his assaults, each thrust penetrating deeper into you, sinking with a bestial fervor that vibrates every fiber of your being.

You try to pull away, to run away from this overwhelming feeling that consumes you, but each quick and violent thrust of Sunghoon behind you only pushes you further onto Jake's cock, locking you in a whirlwind of inescapable pleasure. You feel trapped between their bodies, prisoner in a fiery and desperate dance, where each movement makes you lose your mind. Your mind fogs, invaded by an ocean of chaotic sensations, and you start to stammer, drooling with abandon, your will melting under the assault of pleasures.

“It’s… too much, please… a break,” you manage to utter, your shaky voice trailing off into a sob of frustration and desire. Every contraction of your body makes you vibrate, every movement pushing you deeper into this sea of ​​ecstasy that only intensifies. But they don’t stop.

Jake, with fierce determination, grabs you by the hair, maintaining direct contact with your gaze. His eyes, dark and bright with an animal fire, anchor themselves in yours, misted with tears of pleasure and pain, reminding you that you are entirely at his mercy. In this moment, you are aware of your power, but also of your total vulnerability.

“No breaks, baby,” he growls, his voice thick with raw desire. He lifts his hips, slamming harder against yours, each movement resonating inside you like an electric shock. You feel each thrust tearing at the line between pleasure and pain, his cock forcing its way inside you with such force that you feel like your body is going to break. “You’re going to take it all like a good girl,” he whispers, his words echoing in your mind, mingling with the delicious pain of his intrusion. It’s a command, but also a promise, a subtle threat that makes you shudder with anticipation.

He lowers your head, brushing his lips against yours, and you moan in anticipation, aware of what is to come. His eyes, full of unspoken promises, bore into yours, and you feel a shiver of excitement run through your body. When he kisses you, it is with a devouring passion, an animalistic ardor that consumes you entirely. His lips crush against yours, an insistent pressure, as he approaches you with a burning intensity. His saliva mixes with yours, creating a thick and sweet mixture, almost like a nectar that bewitches you.

He presses your lips even closer to his, as if he were trying to merge with you, to absorb you into his voracity. Your body is on fire, a devastating flame that consumes everything in its path. The heat of his tongue tangles with yours, curling, exploring, sinking deeper and deeper, each movement intensifying the ecstasy. The movements of his tongue are brutal and eager, driving the air from your lungs with each caress.

His lips, wet and slippery from your saliva, don’t break the contact. Quite the opposite, it intensifies the urgency of your embrace. He tugs at your hair with desperate need, his fingers digging into your mane as if to keep you close to him. The pain of his tugging electrifies you, making you moan even more, and he takes advantage of it, gently nibbling on your tongue, increasing the heat of your desire. Each bite is a mix of gentleness and dominance, leaving you panting and eager, as if each bite awakens a wild beast within you.

The strength of his grip, the intensity of his kiss, everything about him makes you understand how much he wants to possess you entirely. The beating of your heart echoes in your ears, and you feel a primal urge awakening in you. He explores your mouth with an insatiable voracity, as if it were the last kiss of his life. His movements are more and more ardent, his tongue searching every corner of your mouth, each caress causing waves of pleasure that intensify with each second.

Your moans grow deeper, more desperate, and he meets your need with renewed intensity. His lips move over your face, tracing hot trails, slowly descending your neck as he leaves light bites on your skin, as if to mark his territory. The sensation is both delicious and painful, each tingle fueling the fire that awakens within you.

He returns to your mouth, and this time, he kisses you more wildly, his saliva flowing freely between you, each contact creating a slobbery and intimate mush that reinforces the intensity of your connection. You lose yourself completely in this dance, each beat of your heart, each breath, each moan mixing with him. The exchange becomes more bestial, more unleashed, as he shows you how hungry he is for you.

Behind you, Sunghoon doesn’t hold back. His rhythm becomes more and more wild, each thrust resonating inside your body, gripping you, making you capsize even more in this abyss of pleasure. The thrusts of his cock dig into you with such force that you feel your body bend under the impact, a symphony of contradictory sensations that blinds you. The way he holds you, the force of his hands on your hips, only adds to the electric tension that settles between you. Each thrust of his cock crushes you against Jake’s, creating a whirlwind of pleasure that eclipses everything else.

You feel their thrusts becoming more and more disordered as time passes, the frenzy of their desire reaching an unbearable climax. The room echoes with the sounds of their arousal, a raw echo of panting breaths and bestial moans. Jake, still deep inside you, caresses your clitoris with incredible precision, his agile fingers exploring this sensitive area with a cruel tenderness that makes you lose all notion of time. The intensity of his movements plunges you into an ocean of pleasure, an irresistible wave that carries you away and submerges you, crushing you under the weight of passion and desire.

Every touch of his burning skin makes your body vibrate in a symphony of sensations, a wild melody that you can't ignore. You feel your orgasm looming again on the horizon, inevitable, like a storm ready to break. You are on the edge of the precipice, an unbearable tension rising in you, ready to explode with every movement. The rise of pleasure is exquisite, each caress pulling you a little more towards nothingness.

Suddenly, his body tenses, a guttural groan escaping his lips. His hot, viscous seed spills into you, filling every corner of your being. You feel every drop as it floods through you, a warmth flooding your insides, making you shudder with pleasure. Your body pulsing around him as you cum at the same time as him, you are overwhelmed by an indescribable sensation, an explosion of heat that resonates through every fiber of your being, a surge of ecstasy that sweeps you away.

Your sex clenches around his cock, absorbing every second of this ecstatic pleasure. You are swept away in a whirlwind of sensations, a chaos of pleasure that envelops you entirely. Jake's movements have become frantic, a mixture of raw desire and animal need. His gaze is hungry, almost possessive, as if he is marking you with his imprint.

Soon after, Sunghoon lets out a moan of pleasure, a primal sound that vibrates the air. You feel his body contract behind you as he comes in your ass. The heat of his cum invades your body, each hot drop mixing with Jake's, making you shudder even more as you feel completely filled. A feeling of accomplishment washes over you, a mixture of pleasure and submission that envelops you in a cocoon of ecstasy.

Sunghoon and Jake maneuver you with almost all-consuming attention, their bodies pressing against yours as they gently place you in the middle of them. Sunghoon lies behind you, buried deep inside you, but he remains still, savoring every second of this possession. His strong hands slide down your sweaty back, leaving a trail of heat where his fingers pass. Each touch is a promise, each caress a reminder of his desire for you. He kisses your shoulder tenderly, a gesture both possessive and protective, as if he wants to protect you from anything that could hurt you.

“You’re mine,” he whispers in a husky breath, his words echoing in the air heavy with passion. The intensity of his gaze, burning with desire and adoration, makes you shudder, but at the same time, a shadow hovers in his eyes, a desperate need to keep you close to him, as if you were the only thing that mattered.

Jake, still in front of you, is buried deep inside you. His cock is still, but you know he’s relishing every shiver you feel. He searches your face, his eyes latching onto every expression, every moan you let out. “I want you to feel everything I feel for you,” he says, his voice vibrating with emotion. His fingers brush your face, sliding along your cheeks with an almost frightening delicacy, as if he’s afraid of breaking this perfect moment. The tenderness of his gesture contrasts with the ardor of his desire.

You feel consumed by their attention, by the intensity of their love. They hold you tightly, but there’s a gentleness to their hold, a way of making you feel both vulnerable and incredibly wanted. Sunghoon kisses the back of your neck, his warm breath making you shiver. “I want you to always be here, mine,” he whispers, his tone both tender and desperate. It’s a declaration of obsession, but also a wish for deep connection.

“Never walk away,” Jake adds, his eyes fixed on you, filled with palpable need. His hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours, as if to remind you that he’ll never let you go. Each touch is charged with intense emotion, a mixture of sweetness and possession that consumes you.

A wave of emotion washes over you as you realize the depth of their desire. Every moan, every sigh, every word whispering your name is a declaration of love and obsession. “You’re my everything,” Jake finally says, his voice rising in confession, almost like a prayer. “I can’t live without you.”

Minutes turn into hours, and you’re completely overwhelmed by this connection. Their warmth envelops you, and you feel both safe and captive to their desire. Sunghoon, behind you, begins to move slowly, each thrust a mix of gentle and rough, as if he wants to make you understand how much he wants you, how much he needs you. “I want you to feel what I feel,” he says, his voice trembling with passion. “I want you to be mine, completely.”

The outside world fades away as you’re enveloped in their love. Jake leans down to capture your lips in a kiss, his movements both tender and hungry. It’s a mix of animal desire and sweetness, a perfect fusion that makes you lose track of time. “Never let me go,” you whisper between kisses, and those words seem to seal a pact between you.

The heat of their bodies mixes with yours, creating an unbearable heat that pushes you to completely surrender to this embrace. Sunghoon and Jake melt into you, and you feel like you become an extension of their desire. Every moan, every breath, every whisper of adoration that escapes their lips strengthens this intimate connection that transcends simple pleasure.

Finally, exhausted by this all-consuming passion, you fall asleep in their arms, their bodies intertwined with yours. The night wears on, but you feel incredibly lucky to be at the center of their world, a bond of love and obsession, a promise of eternity that nothing can ever tarnish.

You step into the elevator, your mind still cluttered by your day, just hoping to get home quickly. But as the door begins to close, a large, firm hand suddenly blocks it. You look up, and the door opens to reveal Jay and Heeseung, their knowing gazes scanning you with an intensity that tightens your stomach. You swallow in spite of yourself, the air already becoming more oppressive in the confined space. A sigh escapes you as you step back to give them room.

They climb silently, but you can feel their presence invading you, like a threatening shadow, their dense energy intruding into every corner of the elevator. Their bodies are close, too close, and their gazes don't leave you for a second. They undress you with their gaze, and no matter how stubbornly you stare at the floor sign, your heart beats faster and faster.

Time seems to stretch as you mentally count the remaining floors. Five more… But just before the fourth one appears, Heeseung deliberately presses a stop button. The elevator makes an ominous clicking sound before stopping mid-ascent, stuck between two levels.

“Heeseung! What the hell are you doing?” you spit, frustration marking your voice. The space seems to shrink all at once, crushing you under palpable tension. “Why did you stop that fucking elevator?”

Before you can get away, you find yourself back against the metal wall. The cold of the surface cuts through the fabric of your dress and makes you shiver. Jay and Heeseung stand right in front of you, blocking you completely, their imposing silhouettes leaving no escape. You try to ignore them, but they tower over you, their presence becoming stifling.

Jay approaches slowly, a twisted smile on his lips. “Because you’re avoiding us, and we don’t like it,” he murmurs, his raspy voice chilling and warming you at the same time. “You had a good time with Hoon and Jake, right? Now it’s our turn. And trust me, you owe us that.”

Before you can protest, his hand slides over your chest with calculated slowness, skimming your curves with raw possessiveness. The contact makes you arch your back involuntarily. His warm palm crushes further against your flesh, pressing with obscene firmness. You gasp, your breath breaking into small, uncontrolled gasps.

Jay leans down to you, his nose brushing the line of your neck. He inhales deeply, taking in your scent. “Fuck…” he growls against your skin, his voice vibrating with animalistic desire. “You smell so good… it’s gonna drive me crazy.”

Before you can react, his hands become more greedy, gripping your body without restraint, as if he had waited too long for this moment. He yanks at the fabric of your dress, tearing it effortlessly. The sound of the fabric tearing echoes violently in the silence.

“Jay! My dress!” you protest, your voice shaking, but not with anger. Something else is rising inside you, something more dangerous and unspeakable.

He chuckles, his fingers brushing over your bare skin exposed beneath the torn dress. “We’ll get you more,” Heeseung replies, his voice low and quiet, almost menacing in its softness. He steps forward, grabbing your chin in a firm grip to force your gaze to meet his.

Meanwhile, Jay continues his exploration, his hot mouth crushing against your neck. His teeth bite your skin with raw greed, leaving red marks on your epidermis. You shiver under the assault, unable to mask the reactions your body betrays.

Heeseung stares at you, his dark gaze filled with a silent promise. “More beautiful dresses, more expensive ones… Anything you want, sweetheart.” His lips press against yours, capturing your breath in a rough, demanding kiss.

He nibbles at your bottom lip with calculated precision, just enough to make you moan. Your moan becomes his invitation, and he takes advantage of it to slide his tongue into your mouth, probing with torrid slowness. His fingers close around your jaw, stilling you as he pushes deeper, tasting every corner of your mouth.

His hand slides into your hair, tugging with a firmness that draws another moan from you. Your head tilts back, exposing your neck to Jay, who continues to mark it with bites and kisses. Heeseung increases the pressure on your lips, deepening the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours with brutal precision.

The elevator seems to disappear around you, leaving only the suffocating heat of their bodies pressed against yours. Their caresses are merciless, controlled but imbued with a latent savagery. Jay slides his hands over your thighs, slowly moving up, his fingers tracing insidious circles on your bare skin, as if to test each shiver he provokes.

Heeseung finally pulls away from your mouth, his breath mingling with yours. He looks down at you, his dark eyes searching your face ravaged by desire. “I will give you everything your heart desires. Say it, and it will be yours.” Before you can answer, he places a series of hungry kisses on your already swollen lips.

Jay pulls the fabric of your panties to the side with palpable impatience, revealing your already glistening pussy. His fingers, warm and firm, slide over your swollen lips, spreading them just enough to appreciate how ready you are to be taken. A wicked smile plays on his lips as he watches your reaction. With a quick movement, he rids himself of his pants, his gaze burning with desire consuming you like a flame. His eyes sparkle with an almost animalistic greed, and you can feel his palpable arousal in the tension-laden air, a mixture of anxiety and desire that makes your heart race.

Without a word, he lifts you up with disconcerting ease, placing you against the wall of the elevator. The coldness of the metal against your bare skin creates a stark contrast to the warmth of his body, and your head tilts back slightly, revealing your delicate neck. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, your heart racing as adrenaline pulses through your veins. His hands are already exploring your body greedily, his fingers tracing paths of fire across your skin, each caress awakening sensations within you like a treasure to be unwrapped.

His cock, hard and throbbing, immediately finds its way to your entrance. With a sharp thrust, he enters you, drawing a muffled moan from you that resonates in the narrow space. The sensation is raw and visceral, a collision of pent-up desires. Your body tenses around him, every inch adjusting to the thick, irreverent intrusion. Jay growls against your neck, his hot breath mingling with your scent as he remains still, buried deep inside you, savoring the tight embrace of your sex that keeps him prisoner. Each second stretches out in delicious torture, ecstasy and pain mingling in a wild dance.

Heeseung slowly approaches to stand behind you, his massive presence making you shiver in anticipation. The musky scent of his body mixes with the sweet scent of arousal, intoxicating your senses. He presses his chest against your back, his heat radiating against you as he grips one of your ass cheeks firmly, spreading it to further expose your already taken intimacy. You know something inevitable is about to happen, and the thought makes you shiver with desire.

“You take it good, huh… But I’m gonna fill you up even more, sweetheart.” His voice is a husky whisper, laden with filthy promises, and you shiver at his words, each syllable vibrating with perverse undertones. You feel him press the tip of his cock against your tight entrance, just above where Jay is buried deep inside you. Your breath hitches, and your body instinctively contracts around Jay, making him squeeze even tighter inside you, like you’re two puzzle pieces that can’t be separated.

Jay lets out a low growl, his cock buried deep inside you. “Fuck, keep squeezing her like that and I won’t last long…” His tone is thick with desire, but his hips remain still, trapped in the promise of an imminent double penetration, a climax you crave.

“It’ll fit.” Heeseung whispers the words into your ear, his hand slowly moving up your stomach, holding you firmly against him. “Don’t worry… Let me do it, I’ll force you to take it all.” His cock presses against you insistently, slowly sinking in. The pressure is unbearable, every movement making you feel like your body is going to give in under the invasion. Your breath catches in your throat, beads of sweat sliding down your skin, making you even more vulnerable, like a ripe fruit waiting to be picked.

He pushes harder this time, and you moan loudly as the head of his cock finally passes, creating a point of no return. A wave of burning heat surges through you, a mixture of pain and pleasure, as Heeseung continues to move forward, slowly but inexorably. His cock rubs against Jay's, trapped in your body too tight for both of them. Each brush tears you with uncontrolled moans, stretching you to the point of no return, your body submitting to their desires without any resistance, like a puppet with its strings cut.

Your body trembles, unable to fully adjust to this double invasion. “Fuck…” Jay breathes as he leans towards you, his lips catching the tears that are starting to flow down your cheeks. The contact is soft, almost tender, in total contrast to the brutality of what they are doing to you. The movement of his mouth against your skin pushes him deeper into you, crushing his cock against Heeseung’s. The grunts of the two men echo in the narrow space of the elevator, synchronized with your strangled moans.

Heeseung, however, doesn’t let up. “Fuck, you’re taking it so well… Look how you’re taking it.” His hand moves down between your thighs, his fingers tracing slow circles on your clitoris, intensifying each sensation already amplified by their domination. Anguish and pleasure intertwine within you, enveloping you in an insatiable whirlwind. Each brush of his hand sends electric waves through your lower abdomen, intensifying the tension you feel, making each beat of your heart even more desperate.

“Shit, Hee… I… I can’t…” you stammer, a note of panic creeping into your voice, but they don’t listen. Heeseung thrusts a little harder, his pelvis slapping against your ass with each thrust, anchoring his presence deeper, filling you with a sensation that’s both beautiful and overwhelming. Jay follows suit, thrusting sharply and calculatedly, synchronizing each thrust with his partner’s, each assault echoing like an erotic melody in the confined space.

Their cocks fill you to the point of obsession, sliding and rubbing against each other in this wet abyss that has become your body. You lose all sense of time, each sensation blurring the lines between what your body can handle and what it craves. Your stomach tightens, and you feel a new wave of tears fall, uncontrollable, but Jay is there, his lips following the furrow of your wet cheeks, swallowing each tear with disconcerting devotion.

“I want you to let go,” Jay whispers between moans, his eyes boring into yours, searching for connection amidst the filth. “Don’t think about anything but us, about what we’re doing to you.”

Heeseung and Jay intensify their thrusts, sinking deeper and deeper into you, your pussy bending to their will, as if it were made to accommodate them. Each penetration makes them sink deeper, and you feel the excitement build, your wetness dirtying Jay's pelvis, marking your wild and shameless union. The guttural grunts and moans that escape your lips mingle with the echo of the elevator, creating a perverse melody, full of desire, need, and pleasure that borders on ecstasy.

Heeseung slides his hand down your stomach, his warmth electrifying you. He bites your earlobe with a gentleness that quickly turns into a possessive bite, before his tongue trails down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses. His hand moves down eagerly, his fingers exploring your body, finding your swollen clit. He begins to rub it with delicious insistence, making it blush under his attention. Each movement makes your arousal rise, and you arch your back, pushing yourself further into Jay, who only sinks deeper, his thrusts becoming more intense and deep.

Jay growls, his teeth biting your lips with deliberate brutality, until the taste of blood mixes with the saliva in your mouths. You moan into his mouth, your heart racing as he devours your lips, pain and pleasure intertwining in a chaotic dance. The bite of his teeth on your tongue is both cruel and delicious, a choked cry escaping your throat, suppressed by his voracious kiss. He kisses you like his life depends on it, his tongue movements intensifying, and each caress awakens a burning fire within you, a consuming need that only grows stronger.

Heeseung, for his part, doesn’t just rub your clit; he intensifies his assault, his nimble fingers tracing circles on your delicate skin, while his hips slam into you with relentless regularity. His movements become frantic, each thrust resonating in your belly, a wild rhythm that makes you lose all control. The pressure intensifies, making you lose your mind a little more, and your pussy tenses around them, every inch of you adjusting to this thick intrusion, a mixture of exquisite pain and unmatched pleasure. You are caught between two fires, each movement bringing them a little closer to the climax of your union.

Their moans mingle with your heartbeat, creating a haunting symphony. Sweat runs down your skin, immersing you in this burning atmosphere of unquenchable desire. You feel a wave of heat rise within you, an unbearable pressure, as their bodies synchronize in an animal rhythm, joining forces to break you.

Jay slowly pulls his lips away from you, his dark eyes locked on yours, squinting with the intensity of their shared pleasure. Each moan that escapes your mouth becomes a cry of desperation and desire, echoing in the electrically charged air. Jay and Heeseung’s cocks pound into your pussy with unmatched fervor, each thrust sounding like a promise of tortured pleasure. “Keep screaming for us, babe. I want the whole neighborhood to hear how good we’re making you feel,” Jay growls, his voice husky with desire, a bittersweet melody that makes you shudder.

His lips wrap around your bare chest, kissing your soft skin with an almost carnivorous delight. He sucks on your tip, his agile tongue playing with you, sucking with such intensity that you completely lose track of time and space. Saliva drips from your parted mouth, a mixture of desire and debauchery, as each movement of their penetration makes you lose your footing, awakens burning sensations in you. You feel their cocks hit every corner of your body, and they finally hit your G-spot, triggering a wave of pleasure so intense that it carries you away like a tide.

The heat that invades your body becomes unbearable, almost painful, as you scream in pleasure, your cries echoing in the air. Your body trembles under their hold, letting you be carried away by this storm of sensations. An explosion of pleasure overwhelms you as you squirt violently on them, a hot jet that surprises them, making their cocks come out of your pussy, while your head leans back, resting on Heeseung's muscular shoulder. Your tongue lolling, your eyes squinting, you are completely at their mercy, every fiber of your being vibrating with desire and need.

Heeseung, with a perverse delicacy, leans his head towards you, his eyes shining with desire. His tongue caresses yours, his lips brushing your lower lip, then he plunges his tongue deep into your throat, swallowing your desperate gasps. Your breathing becomes more and more labored, but he does not care; he is captivated by the taste of your blood mixed with that of your saliva, a fusion of debauchery and passion. Your body, still pressed against theirs, is prisoner of their insatiable desire, and each blow, each movement brings them a little closer to your limit.

Finally, he pulls out of your mouth, leaving you panting, out of breath, and your body, exhausted but insatiable, gives in to ecstasy. Your face wears a dreamy expression, lost in a world where only their pleasure matters. Jay then leans towards you, and in an act of brutal domination, he spits in your mouth, the gesture both vulgar and intimate. Far from being reluctant, you swallow his saliva with disturbing obedience, savoring each drop like a gift, indulging in this euphoric and obscene state.

Heeseung, satisfied with your submission, walks away, leaving you in Jay's arms. The latter, still ardent, presses the button to restart the elevator, which resumes its path towards your apartment. The walls vibrate around you, silent witnesses to this unbridled scene. The door opens with a slight ringing, taking you out of your ecstatic trance. Jay, carrying you with disconcerting ease, brings you in front of your door, which Heeseung has opened using the key found in your bag, a palpable tension floating in the air.

Once inside, the dim lighting creates an atmosphere that is both warm and threatening. Jay gently places you on the couch, his hands exploring your skin still burning from their embrace. He leans down, his lips tracing their way along your stomach, lingering on every curve, every contour. Heeseung, standing behind him, watches you with a satisfied smile, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“We’re not done with you yet, baby,” he whispers as he steps closer, his hand sliding over your thigh, teasing every nerve in your body. Jay, his lips quivering with anticipation, slides his hands over your skin, leaning down to kiss you again, while Heeseung takes the time to devour you with his eyes, savoring every moment of your vulnerability.

Jay meets Heeseung’s gaze, a silent exchange charged with desire and defiance, a gaze that seems to imbue the room with an insidious heat. The atmosphere becomes electric, each breath echoing in the silence, creating a palpable tension that envelops your bodies like a thick mist. Jay leans towards you with disconcerting confidence, a predatory smile on his lips, as he gently pushes you onto the couch, his strong hands acting with an almost palpable determination.

Your back meets the soft cushion, but the softness is a stark contrast to the way he orders you to lie down, forcing you to submit to his desire. You feel a surge of excitement mixed with fear as your head tilts back, exposed and vulnerable, while he grabs your legs, spreading them completely apart with brutal ease. The dim lighting highlights every curve of your womanhood, every detail of your naked body revealing a raw vulnerability.

A shiver runs down your spine as you realize you’re completely at his mercy, your heart pounding. A mixture of fear and excitement washes over you, setting you on fire from the inside, every fiber of your being vibrating with anticipation. Jay wastes no time; with disconcerting brutality, he rips your panties apart, the sound of the ripping fabric echoing through the room like a prelude to what’s to come. A gasp escapes your lips, almost involuntary, as your head fills with a wild desire, awakened by the brutal intrusion.

Jay positions himself between your legs, his hungry and voracious gaze exploring every corner of your intimate parts. He leaves no room for hesitation; his hands become active, his fingers sinking into you with unexpected force, ignoring any form of restraint. A wave of sensations overwhelms you as he begins to finger you, each movement an exquisite mix of gentle and rough. Your moans escape your mouth, uncontrollable, as you remain there, legs spread, shaking under his relentless assault.

He increases his attack, slamming his palm against your pussy, his fingers sliding with unsettling mastery. The sensation is both delicious and overwhelming, leaving you on the edge between pleasure and pain. Ecstasy and pain intertwine, forming an intoxicating mix that leaves you completely addicted to his touch.

“Fuck… Jay,” you manage to utter, tears welling up in your eyes, an instinctive response to the intensity of the arousal that is overflowing inside you like an unstoppable torrent. But he doesn’t stop there. On the contrary, he intensifies his game, withdrawing his fingers and then pushing them back in roughly, slapping you in the process. The viscous sound of your arousal, like a wave crashing against the rocks, makes you shiver with shame mixed with pleasure. He focuses on spreading your arousal on your thighs, making you vulnerable, exposed in this obscene tableau that only a voyeur could appreciate.

Back at it, he pinches your intimate lips between his fingers, his movements becoming deeper, more insistent. The caress of his thumb on your clitoris is precise and disconcerting, each pressure bringing you closer to the edge. Your eyes roll back under the intensity of the approaching orgasm, your moans becoming almost desperate. You bring your fist to your lips to stifle your complaints, but nothing works; they seem to amplify, resonating in the room like a chaotic melody of unquenchable desire.

Jay grips your hair, tilting your head back to force you to look into his eyes. His eyes are dark, burning with desire and control, as he begins to finger you slowly, as if he wants to capture every nuance of your pleasure. He gently spreads your pussy lips with two delicate fingers, letting his saliva flow inside, creating a mixture of wet and hot sensations that makes you shudder with desire. Your eyes lock with his, and you feel more and more vulnerable, exposed to his voracious desire.

He releases your hair, letting your head tilt back, leaving you at the mercy of his caresses, with no possibility of escape. In this position, you catch sight of Heeseung's gaze, who slowly approaches, a predatory smile on his lips, enjoying the spectacle of your delicious humiliation. Your heart races, a mixture of fear and excitement making you lose your train of thought.

“Hee… fuck, I can’t take it anymore,” you let out, your breath coming hard between moans, each word laden with need. You come hard on Jay’s fingers, the waves of pleasure washing over you. But he keeps thrusting his fingers into you, refusing to give you the respite you crave. The pulsing in your body becomes a silent scream, pushing you to the edge where pleasure and pain mix, merging into a whirlwind of emotions.

Jay pulls his fingers out of your pussy, soaked with the mixture of your wetness and your pleasure that continues to flow, a small, glistening stream sliding down your thigh, tracing a slick path that seems almost unreal. With a sudden movement, he slaps your pussy hard, a sharp sound echoing through the room, like a clap of thunder, which draws a groan of surprise and pleasure from you. A shock of electricity runs through your body, causing a wave of heat to invade your insides, leaving you panting and vulnerable.

The sensations mix as your liquid splashes, a few drops finding their way to his face, making him even more desirable in his provocative manner, as if he were a hunter savoring his prey. It’s almost intoxicating to watch him revel in your response, his smirk lighting up his face as he scrutinizes your euphoric state.

He sticks his tongue out to clean the drops of moisture from your pleasure that are on his lips and in the corners of his mouth, licking each drop greedily, delighting in your sweet taste. His eyes are fixed on you, filled with desire and domination, as if he is promising you an unforgettable experience. Then, he puts his fingers back on your pussy, making them dance on your engorged clitoris with incredible precision. His movements are both gentle and firm, playing with your pleasure like an artist with his canvas. The caresses become more and more insistent, each pressure on your clitoris making you vibrate, plunging you into an unprecedented euphoria.

He coats himself in your mixture, his fingers sliding in with disturbing ease, which he then brings to your parted lips, forcing you to taste your own pleasure. The sensation of your own taste on his fingers is both obscene and delicious, and you can't bring yourself to turn away from this reality.

“Suck and tell me what you taste like,” he orders, his husky voice filled with desire, every word turning into an irresistible urge. In that moment, you know you’re completely at his mercy. He pushes his fingers further down your throat, making you gurgle in muffled pleasure, the mixture of sensations sending you into a dizzying euphoria. Your mind goes awry as you begin to suck on his fingers, your tongue playing around them, savoring the musky scent of your own body, like a drug that fogs you up.

The heat intensifies as he plays with your tongue, caressing it, nipping at it with a treacherous softness, his eyes fixed on you with a voracious intensity that makes you shudder. Saliva accumulates on your face, mixing the moisture of your pleasure with the tears that run down your cheeks, creating a tableau that is both obscene and hypnotic. You are both the victim and the goddess of this moment, a mixture of pain and pleasure that makes your head spin.

Finally, he removes his fingers from your mouth, a satisfied smile lighting up his face, his gaze conquering, as if he had just scored a decisive point in a cruel game.

“So, is it good, honey?” Heeseung asks softly, standing right in front of you, his face close to yours, his hot breath caressing your skin. Everything seems blurry and upside down because of your position on the couch, your mind still numb from the pleasure. You hum, unable to speak, as he tenderly caresses your cheek, soaked in saliva and drool. The contact makes you moan in bliss under his scrutinizing gaze, your vulnerability making him even more desirable. His eyes shine with a feral light, each pulse of his gaze on you makes you shiver in anticipation, like prey under the gaze of a predator.

“How about we continue in the bedroom?” He barely finishes speaking when he lifts you into his arms, his warm body enveloping yours, making you feel as if you were safe in this storm. The feeling of his body against yours, powerful and protective, makes you lose all sense of time, every beat of his heart resonating within you. He gently places you on the bed, making sure that your head is suspended in the air, leaving you in a vulnerable and completely exposed position, like an offering to his thirst for power.

Heeseung stands in front of you, his eyes exploring your face completely ruined by desire, a conquering smile on his lips. Your eyes crinkle slightly, and he loves the sight, the apparent submission that makes his heart beat faster. The tension in the air is palpable, each second that passes making you yearn more.

Jay, finding himself between your legs, gently caresses your thighs, his fingers running over your skin with calculated slowness. Each shiver of his caress makes you yearn, the touch of his fingers burning on your sensitive skin. He lingers on your thighs, his fingers slowly sinking into your flesh, exploring every inch of your body, making you want more, drawing you into an abyss of obscene and delicious sensations.

He slowly removes his hand from your thigh, his palm still burning against your skin, creating a trail of heat as he lets his fingers slide gently before gripping his cock firmly. His breathing is raspy, each breath heavy with desire as he looks at you with an almost bestial intensity. His cock, swollen and glistening with pre-cum, approaches your pussy, already soaking wet, and he takes a malicious pleasure in making you languish. He doesn't enter you right away, preferring to make the wait last, rubbing his length against your intimate lips, his warm skin mixing with yours, spreading his pre-cum on your already wet folds. You feel each slow and controlled in and out, each slide, and your body responds instinctively, arching towards him, as if begging him to finally take you.

But Jay smiles, a cruel, dominating smile, knowing full well that you’re at his mercy. “You want more, don’t you?” he murmurs against your skin, his words a mix of taunt and promise. He continues to rub his cock against you, pressing just enough for you to feel the pressure without him actually entering you. The wetness pooling between you is almost obscene, and each slide sends a wave of hot pleasure through your lower belly, leaving you panting.

As you try to focus on what Jay is doing, Heeseung takes possession of your mouth with unexpected brutality. With a quick movement, he forces your mouth wider, and before you can react, he slides the head of his cock between your lips. The taste of his salty, taut skin immediately invades your tongue, forcing you to submit to his presence. You don't have time to adjust to the feeling as he pushes deeper, filling your mouth until the tip of his cock is almost to the back of your throat. Your eyes start to sting, and tears begin to form as you try to breathe between the imposing thrusts of his pelvis.

Your neck tenses, veins visible beneath your thin skin, every movement of your throat betraying your effort to take him all in. Heeseung watches with perverse satisfaction, his gaze fixed on your wet eyes, enjoying every second of your controlled strangulation. “Look at you…” he breathes hoarsely, as he begins to move faster, choking you with each thrust. “A real little slut at my mercy.” His words, loaded with dominance, make you shudder with pleasure despite the discomfort, and you feel your pussy contract in excitement under Jay’s provocations.

Sensing your complete submission, Jay resumes his caresses, his fingers gently brushing your lips before he pulls his cock from your folds, suddenly slamming it against your pussy with a thud. The shock makes you flinch, a muffled moan resonating in your throat already full of Heeseung's cock. Jay repeats the gesture, slamming his cock into your pussy, leaving red marks on your skin, before roughly entering you, in one stroke, without any restraint. His length sinks deep, nearly tearing you apart from the inside as you feel every inch of him, his thickness filling you entirely. You gasp around Heeseung's cock, your breath short and ragged, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

The first blow is sharp, brutal, and your body reacts immediately, arching under the impact, your stomach tightening as you try to accommodate Jay’s size. “Fuck, you’re squeezing so hard…” he grunts, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he holds you in place, preventing you from moving, from fleeing his assault. He begins to move his hips with relentless force, each thrust driving you deeper onto Heeseung’s cock, who controls you with icy firmness. 

Heeseung, in response, tightens his grip on your head, wrapping his fingers in your hair to force you to stay in place. “Breathe, if you can…” he whispers to you with a sadistic smile, choking you further with his length.

Jay continues to pound into your pussy, his thrusts brutal and precise, leaving you breathless each time. Your body is sandwiched between the two, used ruthlessly, each thrust of Jay pushing you deeper into Heeseung, who never lets up. The obscene sounds of bodies hitting each other, muffled moans and groans of pleasure fill the room. The dynamic between them is clear: they own you, control you, and you are at their mercy, a prisoner to their relentless desire.

Each of Jay's movements becomes harder, faster, each impact throwing you harder against Heeseung, who groans in satisfaction each time you take him deeper into your throat. Tears run down your cheeks, your breathing ragged, but despite the intensity, a wave of pleasure overwhelms you, your body responding in spite of yourself to this shared domination. Jay increases the pace, caressing your swollen belly with his cock before sliding a finger on your anus, without warning. You contract instinctively, but he doesn't slow down, taking pleasure in feeling your muscles tense under his fingers and his cock tearing you apart.

Heeseung slightly releases the pressure on your head, allowing you to take a breath of air before pushing you back down onto him, making you suffocate again. He watches every reaction, every tremor of your body with a sick pleasure, enjoying seeing you on the verge of breaking. “You’re going to beg us to stop, aren’t you?” His tone is mocking, domineering, knowing full well that you’re already broken in their hands.

The two continue their macabre dance, Jay taking you relentlessly, his cock slapping against you at a frantic pace, leaving you half-conscious from the assault. The room is filled with their moans of pleasure and your muffled moans, each sound a testament to the power dynamic that is taking hold, this dark dominance that keeps you under their total control.

The pace has lost none of its brutality as Heeseung pulls out with a wet smack, leaving your mouth swollen and your lips covered in drool and pre-cum. Jay, still deeply embedded in your pussy, handles you effortlessly, turning you around with a firm hand to place you on all fours on the bed soaked with fluids and sweat. He grabs you roughly by the hips, his fingers digging into your skin with a possessiveness that makes you moan, before diving back into you, his cock thrusting with a precision that takes your breath away.

The bed creaks under your wild movements as Jay increases his pace, his hips slamming hard against your ass, the impacts echoing through the room like a whip. You feel your thighs tremble under the relentless assault, your body buckling, submitting to each thrust. With each movement, his fingers slide from your hips to grip your hair, pulling back violently, forcing you to arch your back even more, exposing every inch of your skin to his voracious appetite. Your tongue hangs between your lips, trembling, unable to keep up as a strangled moan escapes your throat.

Heeseung, standing in front of you, watches with eyes burning with desire and dominance. He grips his cock with a firm hand, slowly sliding it over the tip of your tongue, dragging over the wet surface before pushing it between your swollen lips again. There is no gentleness in his movements. As soon as the tip reaches your mouth, he pushes without waiting, forcing his thick cock to penetrate even further than before, making you gag violently that you try desperately to control. Your eyes fill with tears as you struggle to breathe, but Heeseung holds you tight, his fingers tightening around your jaw to hold your face in place.

Jay continues to thrust into you with merciless regularity, his thrusts making you shake from head to toe. Your ass bounces with each impact of his hips, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, his animalistic grunts mixing with the wet smacks of your bodies colliding over and over again. He abruptly releases your hair, grabbing your breasts with such violence that you scream, but even your screams are muffled by the length of Heeseung filling your mouth, pushing himself deep into your throat, until you're gasping for air.

“Fuck, look at that…” Jay growls, his voice full of twisted desire as he watches you struggle. His fingers wrap around your breasts, kneading them mercilessly, pulling on your nipples with a force that makes you jump in pain. “She likes it, huh… she loves getting fucked like a whore.” His words are like whiplashes to your mind already clouded by pleasure and pain.

Heeseung laughs softly, a throaty, guttural sound that echoes in your skull. “She was born for this,” he whispers, his voice full of contempt and possessiveness. “Look at her… A fucking slut who lives to be taken like this.” His hands move to your nose, fingers pinching your nostrils tightly to keep you from breathing. Oxygen is immediately lacking, and you panic, your body desperate to break free, but Heeseung gives you no escape. He pushes deeper into your throat, his hips pounding into your face as your entire body is caught in the crossfire, suffocating under the weight of their absolute domination.

You feel your vision blurring, black spots dancing in front of your eyes as the lack of air makes your head spin. Jay, for his part, doesn't slow down. He thrusts his cock into you with increasing violence, each thrust shaking your already weakened body, forcing you to accept more, more and more. He finally releases your breasts to slap your ass, a loud smack that makes you jump, your muscles contracting involuntarily around him, which draws a deep groan of satisfaction from him.

“Fuck, she feels so tight, huh?” Jay laughs, his tone mocking and cocky. His hands come down to grip your hips again, and he pulls roughly, forcing you down even further onto his cock. “She’s going crazy with every thrust… Did you see that? She’s begging for more.”

Heeseung, his breath short, releases your nose just in time for you to take a sharp breath, but he doesn’t give you any respite. His fingers slide into your sweat-soaked hair, and he controls the movement of your head, forcing you to take his cock deeper and deeper, choking you with each quick, violent thrust. You’re nothing more than a puppet in their hands, your body responding instinctively to their desires. Your throat contracts painfully around him, and you feel the burn in your lungs, but there’s no way you can escape their control.

Jay, behind you, continues his frantic assaults. His fingers slide over your soaked skin, tracing red marks where he grips you too hard, pulling you against him again and again. You feel his cock fill you completely, each thrust of his hips making you scream internally, your body stretching under the constant impact. But you don't have the luxury of moaning, each sound muffled by Heeseung's length relentlessly pounding against the back of your throat.

The room echoes with the obscene sounds of their bodies hitting yours, a mixture of moans, grunts, and wet smacks that overwhelm you. Your mind is lost in the intensity of the moment, pain and pleasure merging into a maelstrom that leaves you empty of any coherent thought. You no longer know where the pain begins and the pleasure ends, all you know is that you are their plaything, and they intend to break you completely.

With a guttural groan, Heeseung stills deep in your throat, his abundant seed filling you almost to the point of suffocation. Your head is held against his groin, and you feel each pulse of his orgasm, a mixture of heat and power that makes you shudder with desire. The sensation of his ejaculation is overwhelming, each spurt making you vibrate to the core. Your fingers grip his thighs tightly, desperate for support as the spasms of his pleasure overwhelm you. On the other side, Jay, relentless, cums into your pussy, his hot, viscous seed seeping into you, filling every corner of your wet heat, intensifying the sensation of his presence inside you. The pulsing of your pussy around him becomes a hypnotic dance, a call to debauchery and submission.

In this state of ecstasy, Jay doesn’t seem satisfied yet. His powerful fingers move to your asshole, caressing the delicate skin before slowly sinking inside. The resulting pain is almost unbearable, but an unsuspected pleasure begins to awaken in you, a wave of conflicting sensations that makes you lose your footing. You feel a delicious burn pass through you, dilating you as he slowly takes you, forcing you to welcome his presence. Each movement, each pressure on your delicate flesh becomes a symphony of pain and pleasure, a duality that you begin to accept, to embrace. As he continues to fill you, the heat of his body against yours, you explode around him, waves of pleasure crashing over you like a devastating tide. Your body reacts uncontrollably, in the grip of an overstimulation that only intensifies the orgasm.

Heeseung slowly pulls out of your throat, and a cough shakes you, your head falling heavily onto the bed sheet, sweat dripping from your forehead, each drop a testament to the intensity of this moment. “No more… please,” you whisper between gasps, your voice a stray breath as Jay continues to fill you, his cock deep inside you, his fingers now moving inside your tight ass, making you feel the heat of his body with every second.

“Yes, baby, you can, and you will take it all,” Jay growls, his tone commanding and resolute. The excitement in his voice, mixed with the urgency of his need, sends shivers down your spine. He pounds into you with an insatiable fervor, maneuvering you with calculated expertise so that you find yourself sitting on him, facing him, without removing his cock from your insides, making sure his seed stays warm inside. Every movement of his body is a reminder of his deep desire, a need for possession that makes you quiver with excitement and submission. There is no room for waste in this carnal dance; every drop is precious.

Heeseung slowly approaches behind you, his eager fingers sliding over your sweaty back, tracing invisible lines on your burning skin. The bed creaks beneath your bodies, his heavy movements crushing the mattress as Jay, lying beneath you, grips your thighs tightly to keep you stable. He controls you completely, forcing you to stay in this cowgirl position, as your pussy swallows and spits his cock in a rhythm that feels both oppressive and divine. Your body trembles, already overloaded with pleasure, each thrust pushing you a little closer to that edge where everything becomes blurred, where pain and pleasure become one.

Jay’s grunts echo through the room, his fingers digging deep into your flesh as your breasts sway wildly under the relentless assault. His gaze is fixed on them, mesmerized by the way they bounce with each thrust of his hips. He’s mesmerized by the sight, his eyes burning with desire as he watches you lose yourself on his cock. “Fuck… you look so good on that…” he breathes, his husky tone betraying the control he’s trying so desperately to maintain.

Behind you, Heeseung settles in, his warmth immediately overwhelming you. You feel his bare chest against your back, his muscles contracting with every breath he takes. His hot breath caresses the back of your neck, sending another wave of shivers down your spine. His hands slowly move down to your hips, gripping them firmly before moving lower, to your ass. With a rough motion, he spreads your ass cheeks, exposing your anus unceremoniously. A low laugh escapes his throat as he positions himself behind you, pressing his hard cock against your already strained hole.

With a sharp thrust, without warning, Heeseung enters you from behind, shoving his cock into your ass. The sensation is immediate, a brutal mix of pain and pleasure that leaves you breathless. Your body tenses under the double intrusion, your hands desperately gripping the sheets as your legs shake with overstimulation. Jay below you grunts in response, his pleasure amplified by the way your pussy involuntarily contracts around him with each thrust of Heeseung's hips.

Their movements synchronize, taking you together in a relentless rhythm, pulling you into a vortex of sensations that blur your mind. Your body is trapped between them, unable to do anything but submit to their domination, their incessant hip thrusts tearing muffled cries from you. Jay, his hands still gripping your hips, forces you to bounce again and again on his cock, his gaze fixed obsessively on your breasts which continue to swing under the impact. He leans forward abruptly, his mouth capturing one of your swollen nipples which he bites hard. His tongue plays with the hardened tip, sucking it, biting it, as if he were trying to mark you, to remind you that you belong to him.

“Imagine that, huh? Your breasts full, swollen with milk, so heavy they’ll hurt…” he murmurs against your skin, his words hitting you hard. He sucks your nipple harder, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, drawing uncontrollable moans from you. The thought of you pregnant with their child, your belly round, your breasts full of milk, invades your mind. You’re nothing more than a toy to them, a doll meant to carry their offspring, and the thought makes you vibrate with pleasure.

Behind you, Heeseung is not to be outdone. His hands sink deep into the tender flesh of your buttocks, his thrusts becoming harder, more precise as he loses himself in the idea of ​​filling you too. “You’re going to give us children, honey… Your round belly, filled with our kids. Fuck, you’ll be so good with your full breasts, we’ll never leave you alone…” He emphasizes his words by diving deeper into you, his cock tearing you apart with a brutality that you can no longer control. Your cries mix with their grunts, the pain and pleasure merging into one unbearable sensation.

Heeseung's hands slide down your stomach, caressing it possessively, as if he could already feel that belly rounded by their child. His other hand moves up to grab your throat, gripping it tightly, controlling your gasps and moans, reducing your noises to low, muffled sighs. His fingers tighten their grip with each thrust, almost preventing you from breathing, while Jay continues to pound into you from below, his cock hitting your G-spot with devastating precision.

“You’ll look beautiful, with your belly swollen… Your breasts so full that we could make you squirt milk just by touching them…” Jay tightens his grip on your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh, holding you firmly in place as he pushes you harder onto his cock. “I want to see that… You, pregnant, ours… only good enough to carry our children…” he adds, biting your nipple harder, drawing a strangled cry from your throat as your body tenses under the wave of brutal pleasure.

Your mind blurs, overwhelmed by this vision they impose on you, their total control over your body, their desire to see you bear their descendants. Each thrust of Jay's hips shatters this image in your head, each brutal penetration of Heeseung in your ass reinforces this idea. They take you, manipulate you, shape you so that in the end, you are only theirs. Your breathing becomes erratic, your body trembles with fatigue and overstimulation, but you cannot stop. They give you no respite, their pregnancy fantasies overwhelm you, lose you in a spiral of obscenity and pure pleasure.

Heeseung speeds up again, his hand tightening around your throat, controlling your cries, while his other hand moves down between your legs, finding your swollen clit. He pinches it mercilessly, causing an explosion of sensations that makes you scream silently, your body convulsing in shock. Jay groans beneath you, his thrusts becoming frantic as your pussy clenches around him in an uncontrollable reflex. The sensation is too strong, too brutal, and your orgasm erupts violently, leaving you panting, unable to hold back your moans muffled by Heeseung's grip.

“Fuck… you’re perfect…” Jay groans, speeding up again, his pleasure building as he feels you writhe above him. Heeseung continues to pound into you from behind, his fingers playing with your clit, torturing you, pulling you further into overstimulation, giving you no respite.

Jay leans down, crushing his muscular chest against yours, nearly suffocating you under the raw heat of his body as he continues to pound into you without a single ounce of mercy. Each blow is a shock that goes through your entire body, brutal, fast, barely giving you time to breathe. You feel every muscle in his torso contract against your crushed breasts, sweat dripping between you, making each movement slippery and even more intense. Your breath hitches with each thrust he makes, the power of his thrusts lifting you slightly off the bed, your body no longer yours, shaken in every direction by his calculated violence. Your pussy trembles around his cock, too sensitive, unable to get used to the speed and force he imposes.

His blows are relentless, giving you no respite. With each new penetration, it's as if he's hitting you directly in the belly, emptying you of all breath, each blow stealing a part of yourself. You struggle to catch air, but everything is submerged under this sensation of being totally taken, totally submitted to his infernal rhythm. Your pussy is already too sensitive, each blow makes you gasp, makes you tremble, pushing you to the limit of what you can endure. And yet, he continues, completely ignoring your state, as if your pain, your pleasure were only negligible details compared to his need to possess you.

Behind you, Heeseung holds you tight, his fingers sliding mercilessly over your already overly sensitive clit again. His fingers play with you, tormenting that sweet spot until every pinch becomes delicious torture. He’s not gentle, squeezing and twisting your clit with a precision that makes you scream internally, pleasure mixed with pain, mixing into a devastating cocktail. You feel pulled between them, every part of your body pushed to the limit. Heeseung pushes into your ass, his fingers penetrating deeply, each movement making you jump, your muscles contracting around him. He owns you completely, his fingers sliding in and out of your body with relentless precision, as if he knows exactly the spots to touch to push you further into this spiral of unbearable sensations.

Jay continues to pound into your pussy, his cock thrusting in and out, creating unbearable friction against your cervix. Each movement is a shock, a brutal jolt that runs through your body, leaving you unable to focus on anything but the dull pain and brutal pleasure that intertwine. You're on the verge of exploding, each thrust from Jay bringing you closer to that edge, but you can't make it, each thrust pushing you further into that overstimulated zone where your body doesn't know whether to scream in pain or cum.

Jay leans down, roughly shoving his tongue into your mouth, forcing you to welcome him, to swallow his every move as if it were another form of punishment. His tongue searches your mouth, forcing you to respond, to bend to his rhythm. You no longer control anything, every moan, every breath belongs to him. When he finally pulls back, your lips tremble, a thin trickle of saliva still connecting you, but he gives you no respite. Immediately, he leans over your neck, sinking his teeth deep into your flesh. The shock is instantaneous, a mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through you, your body stiffening under the impact of this savage bite. You feel the blood beading, slowly flowing down your neck, while Jay growls against your skin, savoring the pain he causes you. He bites even harder, his teeth sinking almost to the bone, forcing you to endure this pain that mixes with the intensity of his thrusts.

Your back arches, a shiver of pain and pleasure running through you as Heeseung pushes you even harder against Jay, compressing you between their two bodies, depriving you of any possibility of movement. You are stuck, suffocated by the force of their bodies pressing against you, keeping you completely at their mercy. Heeseung slowly withdraws his cock from your ass, the feeling of each centimeter leaving you almost makes you scream, your hyper-sensitive body reacting to the slightest friction. But he doesn't give you time to recover. Before you can catch your breath, he penetrates you again, this time in your pussy, his cock rubbing brutally against Jay's which is still inside you. The sensation is too intense, too violent, you feel every millimeter, every blow, as if your body is going to tear itself apart under this double penetration that gives you no respite.

Their cocks rub against each other inside you, creating an unbearable friction. Your body, already oversaturated with sensations, is unable to handle this intensity. Each thrust is a violent shock, shaking you from the inside, pushing you beyond your physical limits. You feel the heat of their bodies against yours, the sweat, the cum flowing inside you, a mixture of their fluids that fills you again and again. Heeseung pounds your pussy, each thrust going deeper, pushing Jay's cum and his own further into your womb, making sure that nothing is wasted, that every drop is absorbed by your body. The obscene sound of their thrusts echoes in the room, their skin slapping against yours, creating a suffocating symphony of raw desire and total possession.

Your entire body is on fire, too sensitive, too overstimulated to fully grasp what is happening to you. Each penetration is an explosion, a jolt of pleasure mixed with pain, shooting through you from one end to the other. You are unable to catch your breath, choking under the intensity of what they are doing to you. Your moans mix with theirs, but they do not slow down, taking you again and again, leaving you trapped in this unbearable state of overstimulation, pushing you further and further.

When Jay finally stills, buried deep inside your pussy, you think it’s over. But it’s just an illusion. Heeseung keeps going, his cock thrusting in roughly, pushing your limits, draining you of every ounce of resistance. You’re on the edge, unable to take anymore, every sensation becoming torture, but he doesn’t let up. He takes you relentlessly, digging deeper and deeper, each thrust of his hips making you lose your footing. The mixture of their cum begins to leak out of you, as Heeseung empties himself again, filling your pussy with incandescent heat, consuming you from the inside out.

No respite is granted to you. Heeseung remains planted inside you, deeply anchored, his movements slower but still relentless, keeping you in a state of unbearable tension. You are out of breath, completely submitted to their will, spread between their bodies that keep you captive, prisoner of their endless desire. Their ragged breaths resonate against your skin, but their cocks remain firmly buried inside you, as if they refuse to let you go until they are certain that you are completely theirs, imbued with their essence, marked forever.

You have nothing left. Every fiber of your being is drained, yet they continue to possess you, to hold you between them like their plaything, their slut, full of their seed. Your thighs are stained with their fluids, your skin bruised by their bites and brutality. You are theirs, all of them. They will not let go until you are broken, filled to the point of ecstasy, unable to move or think, reduced to their mercy, their object, marked by their hold.

Heeseung, still buried deep inside you, rolls you gently onto your side, trapping you between their two hot bodies. The heat is stifling, enveloping you completely as your hypersensitive body reacts to every movement. You are there, at the center of everything, unable to escape, the two of them holding you prisoner. You feel their cocks still inside you, filling you again and again, and the weight of their presence weighs heavily on your exhausted insides. Your mind is in pieces, drowning in an ocean of too intense sensations, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what they have just done to you. Your breath is short, ragged, as waves of painful pleasure pass through you again and again.

“Please…” you gasp, your voice hoarse and broken with exhaustion. “I can’t take it anymore… it’s too much…” Your plea dies in the air, ignored. Jay’s fingers slide gently along your body, shaking with your involuntary contractions, shivering with every little ripple of your pussy as it continues to clench around them.

“No, baby,” Jay whispers against your skin, his lips brushing your neck with venomous tenderness. “You still take us… you still want us, I can feel it.” His voice is soft, but his obsession is palpable, his hands exploring every curve of your body, as if they can never get enough.

Your lips part, letting out a muffled moan, a mixture of pain and intense pleasure. "No... I... I beg you... I'm at the end of my rope..." you whisper, desperately searching for an anchor to reality. But their caresses, their whispers push you even further into this whirlwind of unbearable sensations. Your body, exhausted, over-sensitized, continues to respond to every touch, every movement, unable to escape this prison of flesh, of burning desire.

Heeseung, sensing your futile struggle, tightens his grip on your hips, pressing you even closer to him. “Look at you,” he growls, his voice vibrating with animalistic, possessive desire. “Even now, you continue to take us. You were made for this… for us… you belong to us.”

Your head shakes weakly, your eyes half-closed, but your body betrays you. A violent heat rises in you, consuming you from the inside, and once again, this wave of painful pleasure hits you, bringing you back to this unbearable overstimulation. Your hands, weakly gripping the sheets, seek an anchor point, but their caresses prevent you from doing so, keeping you in this state of uncontrollable desire.

“Fuck… I… I belong to you…” you gasp, unable to hold back the words that spill from your trembling lips. “But… this is too much… I can’t take it anymore…” Your breath hitches under the intensity, your body too sensitive to endure another minute. Yet even as you protest weakly, a part of you is hopelessly captivated, unable to resist this feeling of total possession, of loss of control.

Jay smiles against your skin, his fingers lazily playing with your hardened nipples. “Of course you’re ours. You could never be anyone else’s, not after this.” His words are soft, but tinged with a consuming obsession that roots itself deeper and deeper into you. “We’ll mark you over and over again, until you can’t think of anything but us, our cocks deep inside you.”

You close your eyes, your head falling back against Heeseung’s chest, still holding you tightly against him. His fingers wrap around your throat with silent possessiveness, holding you in place, as if to remind you that there’s no escape. “Look at her,” he whispers with twisted adoration. “Look at how perfect she is, completely ours… you know you’ll still beg us, even after all this, right?”

A low moan escapes your trembling lips. “I… I just want…” Your sentence trails off, lost in the inability to articulate what you truly feel. Part of you is broken, exhausted, but the other is trapped with them, chained to this insatiable desire for their warmth.

“That’s it, keep clenching around us…” Heeseung breathes, his raspy voice filled with dark satisfaction. “You’re holding us, even now, like you don’t want to let go. You still want us…” His fingers slide slowly over the back of your neck, trailing down your spine with calculated slowness, adding an extra layer of stimulation to your already overly sensitive body.

You try to protest again, but the words die in your throat as their hands, their whispers, and that unbearable feeling of their cocks still inside you overwhelm you. Your thoughts fall apart, reduced to this struggle to survive through this painful pleasure, every tense muscle responding to their desires.

In front of your bedroom mirror, you stood there, mesmerized by the provocative image you projected. The room was bathed in dim lighting, creating an atmosphere that was both intimate and exciting. Tonight, you would embody a vision of desire and debauchery, the Halloween costume you had chosen for the Feast of the 4 Black Apollos was not simply a disguise, but a bold statement, a rallying cry for those who dared to venture into dark pleasures.

Your jumpsuit, made of a white satin fabric, hugged your body like a second skin, hugging every curve with an almost suffocating intensity. It was so short that it barely covered the bottom of your buttocks, revealing the soft curve of your skin, ready to be touched, caressed. The zipper, pulled halfway up your neckline, gave a glimpse of your chest, quivering with anticipation, as if waiting for exploring hands to come and completely bare it. Every movement you made made the fabric sparkle under the light, a promise of lust just waiting to be fulfilled.

Your bunny ears, one erect and the other slightly curled, were not just an accessory; they were a symbol of your mischievous and provocative nature. Tonight, you would embody the perfect blend of innocence and debauchery, an allegory of temptation. You had chosen to wear fishnet tights, their bold and transparent texture adding an extra dimension to your allure. The black mesh wrapped around your legs like a delicate caress, each mesh tracing the curve of your thigh, making you quiver with excitement with each movement.

For your makeup, you had opted for a palette that was as bright as it was seductive. Your eyebrows, painted white, formed a striking contrast with the warmth of your skin. The white mascara, applied in thick layers, brought out the sparkle in your eyes, giving them a mysterious appearance, as if you had just come out of a torrid dream. On your cheeks, a vibrant, sensual and deep red echoed the heat that burned within you. And the shiny black, tending towards purple, that you had applied to the tip of your nose, added a touch of mischief to your face. Your eyelids sparkled under the shine of the bright shadows that you had chosen, capturing the light in a way that would hypnotize anyone who would meet your gaze.

But what really caught the eye, what made hearts flutter and awakened the darkest desires, were your lips. They were voluptuous, slightly bitten, as if someone had already tasted their sweetness, a promise of unfulfilled pleasure. The red shade you had applied, bold and captivating, gave your lips a juicy appearance, ready to be devoured. You had added a thick gloss that made them sparkle, like a ripe fruit under the sun, inviting temptation and promising unexplored delights.

Every detail of your look, every touch of makeup and every accessory, was an invitation to escape, to explore the limits of desire. As you moved in front of the mirror, the little bunny tail delicately attached to the back of your jumpsuit swayed gently, drawing attention to your ass and adding a touch of playfulness to your sensuality. This seemingly innocent detail was in reality a symbol of your depraved nature, a nod to the obscene pleasures you were about to experience.

Darkness swallows up almost everything as you walk down the driveway to the manor. The air is so frigid it seems to bite your flesh, each breath emitting white wisps that slowly rise in front of your face before disappearing into shadow. You press into yourself, wrapping your arms around your waist, but no warmth comes to comfort you. The leafless trees loom on either side like gaunt specters, their gnarled branches reaching above you, casting grotesque and menacing shadows on the stony ground. Every creak beneath your feet, every rustle of dead leaves seems to amplify the deafening silence of the night.

The Halloween decorations that dot the driveway aren’t mere party favors; they’re warnings. Human skulls, their empty eye sockets fixed on you, grin in the darkness from rusty spikes. The remaining flesh, half-decayed, still hangs limply from some of the bones, as if death has not yet completed its work. Their mouths twisted into morbid grins seem to mock you, as if they already know what awaits you inside.

Carved pumpkins, grotesquely deformed, spew molten wax from their gaping mouths. Their triangular eyes stare at you with a sickening insistence, their glowing inner light flickering as if inhabited by malevolent spirits. Garlands of human and animal bones hang above you, creaking softly in the night wind, the sound echoing the irregular beating of your heart. Between the dead branches, thick, sticky cobwebs stretch like death traps, sheltering spiders whose bodies seem swollen with fresh blood. They crawl slowly, each of their legs clicking against the branches, their black eyes reflecting the dim light of the candles scattered along the path.

As you approach the imposing gate of the manor, the landscape grows darker, more sinister. The stones of the path are littered with rubble and fragments of bone, and you realize with horror that some of these bones are human. Crows perched on makeshift tombstones stare at you with empty eyes, their beaks emitting little rasping cries, as if they are impatiently waiting for the moment when they can feast on your flesh. An unpleasant smell rises in the air, a mixture of mold, damp earth, and something sweeter and fouler—the stench of decay.

Before you, the massive door of the manor stands, black as coal, its rusty hinges creaking slightly in the wind. Large black candles stand at each corner, their flickering light casting shadows on the stone walls, creating the illusion that the manor's façade is moving slowly, as if breathing. The wood of the door is stained with blood, violent splatters that still drip, red and sticky, mixed with scratches deep in the wood. Above the door, an inscription in red letters glows faintly, a message in Latin that you can't quite read, but it gives off an aura of doom.

Your trembling hand brushes the icy doorknob. The metal makes you shiver, as if something deeply evil lurks within, ready to seize you. You ring the bell, and a low growl echoes through the bowels of the manor, reverberating off the walls like a mournful lament. The door slowly creaks open, letting out a breath of putrid air, cold and dense. You hesitate for a second before stepping inside, your instincts screaming at you to turn back, but something deeper—a macabre curiosity or an unseen force—pushes you forward.

Inside, the sight is even more terrifying. The first room you enter is vast, yet oppressive. The ceiling seems infinitely high, but the shadows cast by the dim chandeliers hang heavily, as if they might collapse on you. Black, torn draperies hang from the walls, covered in dark stains that resemble dried blood. The marble floor is cracked in several places, and pools of dirty water collect in the crevices, making an incessant dripping sound that echoes in the silence.

Along the walls, stone statues of angels, but disfigured, stare at you blankly. Their wings are broken, their faces twisted in expressions of infinite pain, and their hands, outstretched in gestures of imploration, are covered in something that looks like dried human flesh. Their eyes, deep black, seem to follow your every move, scrutinizing you with an unhealthy intensity. Their shadows stretched on the distorted walls form grotesque silhouettes, as if they would detach themselves at any moment to seize you.

Along the main hallway, gilded frames, now rusted, hold portraits of the manor's former owners. But these painted faces are not ordinary: each gaze is full of madness, pain, or terror, as if each soul depicted has been condemned to an eternity of suffering. Some of the portraits are scratched, lacerated as if something, or someone, has tried to free itself from within the frames. Their eyes seem to stare at you, their lips moving imperceptibly, whispering curses that you cannot hear but feel deep within your being.

In the corner of the room, an old pendulum clock ticks slowly, its ticking regular like the beating of a monstrous heart. With each passing second, the weight of the atmosphere grows heavier, and the air becomes harder and harder to breathe. Time seems to warp here, trapping you in a hellish loop.

Along the stairs leading upstairs, candlesticks in the shape of human arms hold candles whose wax drips like blood, forming red puddles at the foot of the steps. 

A cold shiver runs through you as you continue to gaze at the Halloween decorations in the mansion, every breath of cool air that touches you reminding you of the vulnerability of your situation. You instinctively tighten your arms around your body, but this attempt to protect yourself is shattered in an instant when you feel a strong arm encircle your waist. Before your back hits a firm chest, a scream of terror escapes your lips. You try to struggle, but his grip is strong, relentless. His hot, humid breath caresses your neck, and despite the fear, a wave of desire passes through you, as strong as the anxiety.

“It’s me, baby,” Jay whispers, his voice soft but filled with an irresistible authority. He slowly slides his fingers along your thigh, digging into the fishnet tights that surround you like a second skin. Each touch is a thrill of pleasure and danger. You slowly calm down in his arms, a shaky sigh escaping your lips as you relax your body against his, letting yourself be carried away by the warmth he gives off.

“Fuck… you scared me,” you say, your voice soft, almost a moan, full of delicious confusion. You try to catch your breath, but the beat of your heart, jerky and rapid, betrays your growing arousal. The tension between you is electric, and you feel his heart pounding against your back, each pulse resonating with yours, drawing you further into this whirlwind of sensations.

“Sorry about that,” he replies, a smirk playing on his lips. His gaze searches every inch of your skin, and he revels in your reaction, your dread slowly turning into desire. His fingers travel up your stomach, gliding over your skin like a feather, until they reach the top of your suit. With calculated gentleness, he grasps the already slightly open zipper and pulls it open further, revealing the softness of your skin in contact with the cool air. A shiver of excitement runs through you, and you know you’re about to cross a boundary from which you can never return.

His expression changes then, his gaze becomes more intense, more possessive. His eyes shine with a light that sets you ablaze, a promise of what is to come. He slides his hand under the fabric, his fingers gripping your chest with brutal firmness. His caresses are slow but resolute, each squeeze on your breasts sending waves of electricity throughout your body. “Fuck, you’re so sexy, Professor.” He says, his voice thick with desire, as if he’s already claimed you. His words hang in the air like a filthy promise, each syllable making you shudder more.

Your breath hitches as his hand begins to explore lower, his fingers playing unrestrainedly with your nipples, already hard under his touch. He pinches them, tugs them lightly, forcing you to moan, and each sound that escapes your mouth reminds you of how much you are at his mercy. Each squeeze he puts on your breasts seems to invade your entire body with an insatiable heat. His lips land on your neck, tracing a line of wet, possessive kisses, his hot breath making you shiver under each burning touch. The tension in the air is palpable, as if the world around you is fading away, leaving only the two of you in this sensual and dangerous dance.

“Jay…” you whisper his name, your head falling back against his chest, lost in a whirlwind of sensations. The tension is palpable, almost unbearable. You feel his muscular chest heaving against you, his heartbeat speeding up in time with yours. “I’m still sensitive,” you admit in a shaky voice, aware of how weak you are. But he revels in it, the knowledge seems to excite him even more, and he leans in slightly, struggling to catch your gaze.

As soon as you say your words, his fingers move a little lower, brushing the edge of your suit. He knows exactly how to play with your body, how to build up the desire just enough to make you writhe slightly against him. His eyes, darkened by an almost demonic intensity, scrutinize you, impatient, eager to see you give in. You are trapped in this mixture of fear and desire, every fiber of your being demanding more.

“Do I look like I care?” He says in a harsh voice, pressing himself against you, forcing you to feel the hardness of his body against yours. Your already tense body arches slightly, your chest swelling further under his hold. His hands continue their exploration, playing with the zipper, pulling it down a little more before letting one hand venture under your fabric, caressing the bare skin of your stomach, leaving you panting.

“Jay…” you begin, but he interrupts you with burning impatience. He doesn’t give you time to finish your sentence, his fingers venturing lower, sliding along your body, leaving you speechless. The tension is unbearable, each second seeming to stretch as his warm touch electrifies your skin.

“You’re lucky I have to take you to the party,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin, making you shiver even more. His dark eyes travel down your body with a possessiveness that leaves you naked, even in your white jumpsuit. He trails his fingers over the line of your cleavage, his caresses teasing, but laden with lewd promises, as if every movement he makes is a declaration of his dominance.

He releases you for a moment, turns you back to him, and you revel in his disguise: a tattered white tuxedo, blackened wings on his back, the undersides of his eyes lightly painted black to create a ringed effect that accentuates his menacing look. His expression is icy and dark, making you shiver with pleasure as he slides his hand up to zip up your top all the way, trapping you further in his grip.

“Fuck, Y/n, how could you go out like that, huh? You sound like a fucking slut begging to be fucked.” The words escape his lips like a whiplash, each syllable resonating with an intensity that takes your breath away. His eyes darken as he savors every curve of you behind that skimpy suit, which seems to hide nothing. Heat rises to your cheeks, a mixture of shame and unquenchable desire.

“You’re not walking away from me, or any of us tonight, especially when you’re dressed like that,” he says through his teeth, his grip around your wrist tightening with a possessive force that sends shivers of excitement through your body. He pulls you with him through the mansion, each step echoing on the cold flagstones, an echo of his dominance. You’re his, and every movement takes you further into this world of debauchery.

As you get closer to the backyard, the sounds of the party get louder. As soon as you step outside, the scene around the pool is a chaos of lust and excess. Half-naked students thrash around in the water, their bodies glistening with moisture as they touch each other unabashedly. Laughter and screams mix with moans, creating a symphony of pleasure that makes your heart beat wildly, like an intoxicating melody that awakens your senses.

In one corner, you see a group snorting cocaine, their slow, disordered movements betraying the effect of the drug. The more you observe, the more the reality of what is happening around you hits you. The obscene scenes unfold without any discretion. Here, an orgy breaks out without restraint, bodies intertwining, moans rising in the hot night air. Each scream, each moan of pleasure resonates in your head, awakening in you an insatiable desire, a need to immerse yourself in this chaotic and torrid atmosphere.

Jay guides you through this decadence, his cold and distant gaze showing that he is not impressed by this spectacle. He seems to revel in it, holding you tightly, as if to remind you that you are his, under his control. His fingers caress your skin, reminding you that at any moment, he can make you give in again, drag you into this whirlwind of excess and debauchery. Each contact between you is charged with a promise of pleasure, an obscene pact that you seal together in this diabolical night.

“Do you like it, doll?” he asks in a low voice, almost a breath. His gaze becomes provocative as he scans your face, trying to guess your thoughts, your hidden desires. The very idea of ​​joining these feverish bodies excites you, and you are torn between fear and desire, your body demanding a release that only Jay seems capable of offering you.

“Maybe,” you answer, your voice trembling betraying your desire, excitement pulsing in your stomach. He lets out a dark laugh, a promise of what’s to come.

Before Jay can even say a word, Jake appears, seemingly emerging from the shadows like a mythical creature. His torn jacket hugs his muscular body, revealing scars marked on his torso, while a silver necklace hangs around his neck, accentuating his wild and bestial look. His eyes, highlighted by dark makeup, shine with an animalistic glow, revealing his predatory nature. The contrast between his brute strength and his irresistible charm immediately attracts attention, and several students can't help but stare at him, which makes you feel a pang of jealousy in your stomach. When he meets your gaze, a playful smile lights up his face, provocative, as he advances towards you, filled with a confidence that makes you shudder.

He steps so close that you can feel his warm breath against your skin. With a confident gesture, he cups your face in his hands, his fingers trailing over your cheek with a surprising softness, almost tenderness. “Hey, Mom, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips crashing to yours in a daring kiss. The contact, though brief, is electrifying; it leaves you panting, wanting more. Whispers of jealousy and envy rise around you, but he seems oblivious to what anyone thinks, revelling in your palpable need.

His lips barely part, just enough for him to look you in the eye, a provocative smile still on his lips. His hand slides insistently along the back of your neck, caressing your delicate skin, as he turns his gaze to Jay. “What do we do tonight?” he asks, his smooth voice tinged with a challenge.

Jay, who is watching the scene with a cold intensity, lets out an amused but protective smile. “As usual, nothing changes,” he replies, his tone sharp as a razor. He gives off an aura of dominance, a quiet strength that makes you shudder. His fingers tighten around your waist, making you shiver under the pressure of his grip. “We have fun, we fuck, and if there are any troublemakers, we’ll take care of them as usual.”

The words resonate in the air, heavy with obscene promises. He presses you a little closer to him, making you feel every muscle of his torso against your body. This proximity unsettles you, but at the same time, it gives you a pleasant warmth that warms you from the inside. The atmosphere is charged with an electric tension; you are caught between the two men, each giving off a magnetic power that attracts you inexorably.

“Nothing changes,” Jay repeats, his voice now a little lower, more insistent, as if he wants to make sure you understand the dynamic that’s taking hold. His dark eyes fix on you, burning with a possessiveness that makes you swoon. You feel like a toy in their hands, and you like the idea. Jake, though detached, doesn’t pass up an opportunity to assert his own power. He lets go of your hair, but his gaze remains on you, a provocative glint in his eyes.

“Okay, this will be fun,” Jake says, a flirtatious smile on his lips, his tongue sliding over his lips as if he’s already tasting the pleasure that awaits you. “I’ll pass the message on to Hee and Hoon, if I see them before you,” he adds, his tone deliberately light, but he knows that each word carries weight. The disappointed pout on your face doesn’t escape his notice, and he seems to take some pleasure in it.

“You know, I really like your costume,” Jake says, stepping a little closer, his eyes scanning your figure. “It looks amazing on you. You look like a real little bunny, ready to be devoured.” His gaze becomes more intense, almost animalistic, as he leans forward slightly, as if he really wants to taste what you have to offer.

“But you know who’ll appreciate this even more,” Jake murmurs, his hot breath caressing your cheek. His voice is a mix of teasing and sensuality, and each word resonates with you like a promise. He watches you closely, his dark eyes lingering on the way you bite your lip to stifle a moan. “It’s Hoon. He always calls you his bunny. And when he sees you in this outfit, he’s going to go crazy.”

The thrill of his words runs through you, a delicious, unsettling anticipation. You know he’s toying with you, drawing you into a whirlwind of desire and tension. Jake takes a step forward, moving so close you can feel the warmth of his body against yours, a dominant, electrifying presence. “I bet he won’t be able to resist touching you. Maybe he’ll even fuck you right here, in front of everyone, just to show how much his bunny needs him. He’ll make you scream with pleasure, until you pass out from exhaustion. You want that, don’t you? I’m sure that’s why you dressed up as a bunny slut.”

Every word Jake says pushes you deeper into a state of arousal. His hand slides over your jaw, caressing your skin with cruel delicacy. He forces you to raise your head, to meet his gaze, and you feel vulnerable but at the same time irresistibly drawn. His gaze is a promise of obscene pleasure, and you know he intends to make you fall under his spell.

“Jake…” you whisper, your voice trembling, almost pleading. The intensity of his gaze, loaded with desire, leaves you speechless. You are lost in his gaze, unable to look away as Jay’s fingers, behind you, begin to wander from your waist to your stomach. He caresses the fabric of your jumpsuit, his gestures becoming more and more provocative. You feel his arousal, and the tension between the three of you rises palpably.

Without warning, Jay's hand moves lower, his fingers slipping between your legs, finding your pussy, already wet with anticipation. "Fuck, he's gonna lose his mind for sure," Jay sneers, his voice laced with mischievous pleasure. He rubs the fabric of the suit against your sex, and each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You start to squirm, seeking that delicious feeling, desperately drawn to the hands of the two men surrounding you. "Fuck, she's not even wearing panties. You've already gotten yourself ready for us, baby. She's a good girl."

You feel trapped between their desire and their power, a thrill of excitement and fear mixing as you cling to Jake’s jacket, realizing how much you are at their mercy. His presence is overwhelming, but at the same time, he makes you vibrate with a need you’ve never truly acknowledged. You know you’re crossing a dangerous line, but the excitement consumes you.

Jake slides his fingers over your lips, forcing you to release the grip you have on yourself. His fingers are sticky with your lip gloss, and he smiles, a predatory smile, as he hears the small sounds of pleasure that escape your mouth. “That’s it, Mom, let us hear it all,” he says, his voice husky and full of promise. He begins to squeeze your chest under your suit, and you feel the pressure intensify, making your breathing harder, but also more exciting. Every movement of his hands becomes a challenge to your will.

Jay’s fingers tighten around your waist, forcing you to arch your back further, your back arching under the pressure of his touch. “You’re so beautiful,” Jake whispers in your ear, his voice a whisper of desire. Each word makes your heart beat faster, and you know you’re about to lose control. Jay’s movements become bolder, his fingers sliding beneath the fabric, reaching your burning flesh, and you want to lose yourself in the mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Let yourself go, baby,” Jay continues, his voice husky and full of filthy intent. Every movement of his fingers on your body makes you vibrate, and you feel like you’re crossing a limit you never dared to consider. The heat between your thighs is unbearable, and you need more, desperately clinging to the reality of this moment.

The tension is palpable. You know what’s happening here isn’t just a game. It’s a dangerous dance, a ball of unfulfilled desires and raw passions. The whispers of the other students echo through the room, a melody of disinhibition, while your body reacts instinctively to every caress, every pressure. The atmosphere is charged with obscene promises and unspoken fantasies.

“You’re mine,” Jake whispers, his gaze boring into yours with an intensity that makes every fiber of your being quiver. His words, heavy with promise, resonate like a declaration of war, asserting his possession with disconcerting confidence. As he leans towards you, his lips brush yours, a caress that is both gentle and provocative. He stops just before the contact is fully made, a delicious power play that leaves you panting, your eyes fixed on him, searching for what he promised.

His hand slides along your waist, exploring each curve with calculated delicacy, as if he were sculpting your body into his own work of art. His fingers, cold against your burning skin, run over the fabric of your suit, tracing imaginary lines on your flesh. You shudder under his touch, breathless, an irresistible heat rising within you as he gets closer, almost too close. You can feel his palpable desire, a fire burning between you, ready to ignite the moment.

“You’re mine,” Jake whispers, his gaze intense and possessive fixed on yours. His hot breath brushes your lips, creating an electric tension that makes your heart race. “This is all ours.” His words, laden with obscene promises, hang in the air like a declaration of war against anything that might interfere with your moment.

He leans closer, his lips brushing against yours without ever quite touching, leaving you suspended in an unbearable state of anticipation. Each caress of his fingers explores the curves of your body with brutal delicacy, his hands running down your waist, then slowly sliding down to your hips, where he can feel the warmth of your skin. His intentions are clear, and you feel his desire pulsing with each touch.

Behind you, Jay, with his haunting gaze, intensifies the game. His nimble fingers work hard on your pussy, exploring every nook and cranny with disconcerting mastery. The sensation of his touch makes you shiver, each movement of his fingers on your sensitive skin plunging you into a sea of ​​pleasure. His thumb finds your clit, sliding gently, then rubbing with precision. Each pressure and caress makes you gasp, eliciting moans that escape your lips without you being able to hold them back.

“Fuck, you’re so receptive,” Jay murmurs, his voice low and thick with desire, as if he’s entranced by your response to his touch. He picks up the pace, playing with the wetness of your pussy, driving you completely crazy with pleasure. Your body arches, seeking more contact, more friction. The heat that invades you becomes unbearable, and you bite your lip to keep from screaming.

Jake, seeing your state, can't help but smile. "Look at her," he says to Jay, his voice tinged with a sick satisfaction. "She can't even control herself anymore. That's exactly what I want." His hand slides slowly along your thigh, and you feel his ardent gaze on you, as if he could already undress you with the power of his mind alone. Every movement he makes reminds you of how much you are at his mercy.

Jay slowly removes his fingers from your pussy, leaving you on the edge of desire, frustrated and panting. The orgasm that was so close fades, and a small moan of confusion and disappointment escapes your lips. He smooths the fabric of your slip back with deliberate nonchalance, his hand sliding over your body like a reminder of what was taken from you. His gaze, full of mischief, scrutinizes your reaction, savoring every moment of your dismay. Then, in a languid movement, he brings his fingers to his lips, licking the mixture of your arousal, his smile widening as he soaks in your sweetness.

“You won’t come until we’re all gathered and inside you,” he whispers, his voice soft as velvet, but laced with an authority that electrifies you. His fingers gently stroke the back of your neck, and you shiver, pouting.

“Come on, don’t pout, Mom,” Jake says, his lips coming closer to yours, before placing a light, almost playful kiss on them. A soft laugh escapes him, and you feel carried away by the feeling of his lips against yours. 

As you bite his lip softly, trying to chastise him for his playfulness, Jake pulls back slightly, sliding his lips to your cheek. His voice is a whisper laden with lewd promises: “You’re going to cum so much for us that you’ll beg us to stop.” It’s not a threat, but a promise, a challenge that makes you shudder. You know he’s serious, that all four of them intend to make you lose control. His bright gaze scans you intensely before he pulls away, giving you a small, playful wink as he leaves you with Jay.

Jay, still behind you, steps back and turns you around slowly, caressing the tip of your nose tenderly. A shiver runs through you, caused by the contrast between the gentleness of this gesture and the brutal way he previously handled you. "If you sulk, you won't be allowed to cum at all," he says, an amused sneer in his voice. His tone is both light and domineering, making you understand that he's not joking. Seeing your forced little smile, he allows himself to mock you: "There, that's much better. See you later, doll." A kiss on the tip of your nose, then he walks away, leaving you alone with your troubled thoughts.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to be left alone,” you yell, the irony of the situation not lost on you. You glare disapprovingly at his retreating back. Suddenly, muscular arms wrap around you. The heat of his body washes over you, and you gasp softly, a wave of arousal coursing through you as you’re pressed against him. 

“Hey, beautiful, by any chance, have you seen my bunny?” Sunghoon’s voice insinuates itself into your ear like a delicious caress, but his tone is loaded with provocation. His fingers slide slowly over your stomach, digging into your flesh, awakening shivers with each touch. An intense heat spreads through you, like a surging wave that overwhelms you and electrifies you.

“No… but I could very well be, if you really want me to.” Your voice is soft, tinged with a palpable sensuality, your provocation wrapped in a burning desire. You press your buttocks against his crotch, feeling the hardness of his erection rub against your skin. His soft moan in your ear vibrates through your entire being, a call to debauchery that makes you lose all control.

“She’s unique, you know. I’m not sure you can compete with her… But you could always try.” His tone is soft, almost hypnotic, as he pulls you even closer to him. He turns you around with a confidence that captivates you, his eyes shining with a bold mischief devouring every detail of your face, every nuance of your makeup that accentuates your charm. You are forbidden fruit, irresistible and dangerous at the same time.

“Look at me, Hoon. It’s me.” You breathe, your arms wrapping around his neck, your heart racing. Your entire body is vibrating with desire. You scrutinize his outfit hungrily. The long black velvet coat envelops him like a seductive shadow, while the leather details betray a dark elegance. The night light dances on the fabric, revealing ominous reflections that highlight his allure. His white shirt, slightly wrinkled, lets out sleeves that add a touch of casualness to his captivating image. The black leather gloves he wears accentuate his menacing nature, his high boots pounding the ground with a deliciously intimidating confidence.

Your gaze is drawn to the delicately ornate metal mask that partially hides his face, adding an aura of mystery to his charisma. The black shadows around his eyes give him a captivating and hypnotic look, and the black cane adorned with occult symbols that he holds in his hand only accentuates his dark charm.

“I’m your bunny, Hoon.” Your voice trembles slightly as you devour him with your eyes, feeling an intense heat spread through your pussy. Your breathing becomes faster, each beat of your heart resounding like an invitation to ecstasy.

“That’s right, my dear, you’re my precious bunny.” He nods, tightening his grip on his cane and your waist, his gaze fixed on your lips, consuming you with desire. “You need me so much, don’t you?” His gloved fingers slide down your back, exploring every curve, every fold of your flesh with delicious slowness. He moves down to your ass, kneading gently, each movement awakening a growing desire, an urgent need for him.

Suddenly, without warning, he gives you a sharp slap on the buttocks. The sound resonates like a clap of thunder, making you moan in surprise and pleasure. You lean slightly towards him, your mouth half open, eager for a kiss, but he waits, a mischievous smile on his lips. The game is his, and he won't give in easily.

“Please… Hoon—” your plea escapes your lips, filled with an urgency that’s both desperate and delicious. You barely finish your sentence when he pushes you against him, forcing you onto your tiptoes. His lips press against yours, hot and possessive, and you feel his body press against yours, his manhood hard against your thigh.

He kisses you with a devouring fervor, his hands taking hold of your ass, his grip tightening, pulling you closer. His tongue infiltrates your mouth, conquering, playing with yours, enveloping it with an insatiable desire. You moan against him, your heart beating wildly.

Then, he suddenly releases his grip, pulling your hair back to better explore your face. He scrutinizes your eyes dilated by the ardor, nibbling on your lower lip before sucking it between his teeth. He releases with a last bite, leaving you panting, before pulling a little harder on your hair, forcing your lips apart.

“Look at me,” he whispers, his voice husky like a rumble of thunder as he leans down, spitting into your mouth. The warmth of his saliva slides down your throat, and instinctively, you swallow, feeling your body clench around the raw sensation, the mixture of disgust and pleasure that awakens an even greater thirst in you.

“You’re the only one for me, my precious bunny, and I’m the only one for you.” His voice almost trails off, like a whisper in the dark, as you nod slightly, inviting him to kiss you again.

When your lips meet again, the kiss becomes fierce, wild. You tug on his hair from time to time, offering him a sweetness mixed with pain, and he responds with an intensity that makes you shudder. His tongue sinks deep into your throat, and you clench your flesh around it, your breathing quickening in time with his insatiable desire.

“Hey! Get a room.” Heeseung chuckles as he approaches you, sticking to your back, his hot breath caressing the nape of your neck. Sunghoon, meanwhile, shows no signs of letting go; his tongue is still deeply embedded in your mouth, exploring every nook and cranny with insatiable greed. You feel the cool leather of his glove slide along your ass, his fingers expertly playing with the small tail of your suit, caressing your skin in a way that is both delicate and provocative. The excitement quickly turns into a burning desire, and despite your efforts to pull away, he holds you firmly against him, forcing you to grind against his muscular body.

“Is that a way of telling me to fuck off?” Heeseung asks with a slight chuckle, but the shadow of jealousy permeates his voice, resonating in the already tense atmosphere. His fingers slide gently along your back, a caress both tender and possessive, as he boldly ventures forward, his cold hands meeting the warmth of your skin. He caresses your chest, his palms exploring your body with an almost devouring sensuality. In one fluid gesture, he pulls down the zipper of your suit, the cool air hitting you like a wave of arousal, as his hands linger on the sensitive skin of your breasts.

“At least it’s said nicely,” Sunghoon replies, pulling his lips from yours. His breath is short, thick with desire, as his eyes, dark and full of passion, stare at you. The tension between them is palpable, a play of power and dominance that makes your heart beat faster. Heeseung begins to explore your chest, his hands kneading your flesh with an intensity that makes you moan. The sound resonates in the air, and you feel trapped between them, your head pressed against Sunghoon’s muscular neck, every movement of his body against yours intensifying the desire.

“She doesn’t belong to you alone,” Heeseung declares, glaring at Sunghoon, his voice vibrating with silent defiance. Heeseung’s hands continue to torture your chest, his fingers digging into your delicate flesh, and you can’t help but moan, ecstasy mixing with pain. It’s a delicious dance, a struggle for possession, and every caress, every tug of his fingers leaves you panting.

“I know,” Sunghoon retorts with a slight chuckle, his voice husky, like a rumble of thunder. He pulls your head back with possessive delicacy, forcing you to look him in the eye. “It feels like someone’s jealous, bunny. Show him you belong to him too, that you belong to us.” His lips brush yours, a promise of dark pleasure, and you feel a wave of heat rising inside you. He pulls back just enough for you to come face to face with Heeseung, who curses under his breath, releasing your breasts, but his gaze is heavy with desire, as if he’s fighting a wave of possessiveness.

Heeseung is a tableau of unfulfilled desires, his black shirt partially unbuttoned revealing a muscular torso adorned with red markings symbolizing flames. The horns on his head, both elegant and menacing, add a dimension of danger to his allure. His hair, tinged with red and orange, falls over his forehead, accentuating his fierce gaze. As you watch him, you feel an irresistible urge to touch those markings, to explore them with your tongue, but you restrain yourself, knowing that every gesture must be measured, every interaction carefully calibrated.

“You’re so beautiful, Hee,” you whisper, clinging to his leather jacket, your fingers sliding over the cool leather. Heat rises in your cheeks as you look into his eyes, seeking validation for your desire. “And I belong to you,” you add, your voice soft but laden with an insidious promise, before leaning down to him, crushing your chest against his chest, leaving hot kisses on his skin, each touch awakening a new wave of pleasure.

“Fuck, honey, you want to kill me before it’s time?” he asks, his soft, husky voice echoing in your ear as he zips up your suit. He sees the shivers running down your spine, and in a protective gesture, he presses your body against his. His warmth consumes you, and you feel your heart racing, the tension between you reaching a fever pitch.

Heeseung can still feel you shivering in the cool evening wind, and with a thoughtfulness mixed with desire, he steps away for a moment to hand you his leather jacket. As he wraps it around you, he takes care to make sure you’re well protected, almost as if he wants to protect you from all the unpleasantness of the outside world. The texture of the leather against your skin is both comforting and electrifying, like a soft hug enveloping you. The musky scent of his rich, warm perfume embraces you, reminding you of how much he cares for you. It’s not just a gesture of care, but a silent promise that he’s here to watch over you.

“Hey, that wasn’t necessary, I can handle it,” you say, laughing softly, but a smile betrays the warmth that floods you at the thoughtful gesture. Your heart races as you see the determined expression on his face, a mix of pride and worry in his eyes. It touches you deeply. It’s that attention to detail, that willingness to make sure you’re okay, that melts you. You realize that this isn’t just a physical gesture; it’s a manifestation of his feelings for you, a way to show that he cares about your well-being.

“It’s worth it if it’s you, Y/n, always,” he replies, his voice soft but filled with a comforting insistence. His eyes scan every detail of your face, trying to detect all the emotions that are mixed there. The way he leans slightly, as if to make sure you’re comfortable, makes a soft warmth rise in your chest. Each gesture, each word, strengthens this invisible bond between you, making the atmosphere palpable with tenderness.

He then slides a hand under his jacket, his fingers delicately brushing the underside of your buttocks, barely covered by your jumpsuit, playing with your fishnet tights. This delicate contact makes you shiver with desire, a wave of anticipation taking hold of your body. A slight shiver runs down your spine, and a moan escapes your lips without you being able to hold back. The proximity between you creates a bubble of intimacy, cutting you off from the rest of the world. In this embrace, time seems to stop; there is only him, you, and this intoxicating heat that unites you, reinforcing each beat of your hearts in harmony.

“Thank you,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around him to snuggle against his chest. The warmth of his body against yours is so comforting that you feel like you’re losing yourself in the embrace. His arms squeeze you gently, shielding you from the shadows of the night, and you feel his heart beat in time with yours. It’s an intimate melody that seems to resonate around you, a shared rhythm that strengthens your connection.

Heeseung looks into your eyes, trying to read all your thoughts, and you feel your heart warm under his attentive gaze. “You are so precious to me,” he finally says, his voice a soft whisper that envelops you like a warm blanket. Each word resonates within you, touching you deeply. In this suspended moment, you realize how much he means to you. His presence is comforting, like a beacon in the night, and you know you are safe here, with him.

“You’re my everything,” you answer, your eyes shining with emotion. In that moment, you understand that what you feel for each other is something rare and precious. It’s not just a physical attraction, but a soul-to-soul connection, an instinctive understanding of what the other feels.

Heeseung leans down slightly, his lips brushing your forehead in a tender gesture. It’s a touch so gentle that it makes you shiver, enveloping you in a feeling of peace. His hand slides gently into your hair, tenderly caressing your head, and you let yourself go, closing your eyes for a moment to savor this moment of sweetness. It’s a mixture of passion and tenderness, a perfect balance that transports you to a state of fullness.

“Let’s stay here, just the two of us,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. He nods softly, his eyes shining with understanding and love. In this bubble of intimacy, everything else disappears. There is no more noise, no more movement, just the two of you, entwined, lost in this world that belongs to you. Every second is precious, and you know you want this to last forever.

The softness of his caresses, the warmth of his body, the sound of his heart… all this envelops you like a sweet melody, a symphony of emotions that unites you even more. You feel light, almost ethereal, as if you were floating above reality, outside of time and space. It is a transcendent experience, where each shared moment is a celebration of the love you have built together.

Heeseung finally leans down to kiss you softly on the lips, a light and tender kiss, full of promises. It’s not a kiss of devouring passion, but rather a gentle caress, an affirmation of your connection. The taste of his lips is familiar, and you’re intoxicated by this intimacy, by this bond that unites you.

After that kiss, he looks into your eyes, and you can see the burning love that resides there. “You are my treasure,” he whispers, his words wrapped in tenderness. The statement resonates within you, and you know you are exactly where you need to be. In that suspended moment, you feel complete, filled with pure happiness.

Heeseung then begins to play with the strands of your hair, his fingers delicately wrapping around them, and you feel a gentle warmth take hold of your heart. His caress is so light that it seems almost unreal, and each passage of his fingers envelops you in infinite tenderness. It's as if he's trying to root you in this moment, to remind you how much you are loved.

You don't know how it happened, but here you are, alone by the pool, lost in a sea of ​​drunken bodies swaying to the rhythm of the deafening music. The air is saturated with uncontrolled laughter and the smell of sweat mixed with cheap perfumes. The twinkling lights above you dance like inaccessible stars, reflecting on the surface of the dark water, creating moving shadows that seem to haunt you, like mocking ghosts of a party you never really belonged to. You desperately search for one of the four boys who have managed to conquer your heart, but anxiety grips you like a vice. 

You are alone, so terribly alone, lost in this lively crowd that laughs and dances, indifferent to your growing discomfort. 

The music pulses in your ears, each beat resonating in your skull as you walk along the edge of the pool, trying to keep your balance. The alcohol you ingested has left you dizzy, disoriented, as if the world is spinning around you, a whirlwind of colors and sounds. Each sip of that sugary drink has blurred your memory, enveloping you in a euphoric haze, but at what cost?

Suddenly, the slippery ground betrays you. Your feet slip on the wet edge, and before you can comprehend what's happening, a hand closes around your wrist with brutal force. The pain flares, sharp, and a cold shiver runs through you.

“You should be more careful,” a cold voice says, echoing like thunder in the tumult of the party. It’s Mark, one of Jaehyun’s friends. His dark, pitch-black gaze pierces you, freezing you in place. His grip on your wrist tightens, snapping you out of your stupor, and you instantly feel vulnerable, exposed to his cruelty. You give him a shy smile, but it’s tinged with gratitude and shame. Jaehyun is still in the hospital, and every moment you spend here enjoying yourself reminds you of the pain he’s going through. It’s been a month now, and guilt is choking you, a snake slithering around your neck. How can you allow yourself to smile, to laugh, to live, while he fights for his life, cloistered in a hospital bed, his body broken by circumstances you can’t understand?

“Thank you,” you whisper, trying to pull your hand out of his grip, but he grips it even tighter, causing a whimper of pain to escape your lips. Panic sets in as you glance around desperately, but the others are too drunk, too lost in their own worlds to realize what’s happening right next to them. Their laughter rings out like a mockery, ignoring your distress as you’re torn between the urge to run and the desire to be saved.

“I see you managed to bend all four of the fucking Black Apollos,” he says, a sharp mockery laced with rage in his voice. He pulls you towards him, his face so close to yours that you can feel his hot, fetid breath, thick with alcohol and contempt. His gaze is a sea of ​​hatred. “Meanwhile, Jaehyun, one of your students, is stuck in a hospital bed like a piece of trash. He can’t even open his mouth anymore. And you continue to wallow in this shitty life as if nothing is happening. Do you really have any decency?” Every word he says is like a stab, driving the blades of your guilt deeper into your heart. The anger he releases fills the air with suffocating tension, and he yanks your arm roughly, causing hot tears to run down your cheeks, forcing you to remember the pain of another, through your own suffering.

“Mark… please,” you plead, your voice shaking, but he doesn’t give you time to finish. He tugs at your hair, the pain radiating through your head like wildfire, each strand pulled out seeming to remind you of your vulnerability. A scream escapes your lips, but it’s lost in the din of the party, and no one sees you, no one hears you. The laughter and music drown out your despair, leaving you alone with your fear.

His fingers dig into your flesh, tearing out strands as he leans closer, his face set in a cruel smile, a rictus of sadistic satisfaction.

“You don’t deserve to be a teacher,” he growls, his voice full of contempt, poison sliding off his tongue. “You whore.” His words are arrows, each aimed at a sensitive spot, sending you reeling between rage and humiliation. He doesn’t release his grip on your hair, and he leans down, his hand gripping your throat, squeezing with all his might. You feel the world around you blur as anxiety and terror mix, wrapping you in a veil of despair. Your heart races, beating so hard you fear it will explode. Each beat echoes in your ears like a war drum, a prelude to your imminent downfall.

“I didn’t want to kill you right away,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin, a barely veiled threat. “I wanted to see what was so special about your pussy that they were all so addicted to you. But I can still do it… once you’re dead.” He laughs, a dark, heartbreaking sound, like a predator savoring the moment before the killing blow. He presses even harder on your throat, slowly choking you, and you start to gasp, the blackness of terror slowly swallowing you up.

Your limbs weaken, and you struggle frantically, clawing at his hand until your nails are covered in blood, but his grip tightens even more. The veins in your forehead pulse, swollen with fear, and you feel a sharp pain in your throat, as if your life is slipping away from you. The world becomes a colorful blur, the faces of others blending into a grotesque dance, a macabre farce in which you are the sacrificial victim.

You feel yourself losing control, your body beginning to relax as your vision darkens, the black slowly swallowing you up. Each second seems to stretch, time twisting around you like a coiled snake. Your mind spirals into a spiral of terror, one thought assailing you: you are ready to give up, to let yourself be carried away by the darkness that calls to you. In that final moment, one thought crosses your mind: what you wanted, what you could have been, now engulfed in despair.

Mark, still there, smiling as if his victory was already assured, a predator savoring the moment before the fatal blow. His eyes shine with a sick pleasure, a glint of sadism in his gaze. The world around you becomes a distant echo, every sound distorting into an unbearable cacophony. And you, reduced to prey, struggle, but every movement seems more and more futile, like a fly trapped in a spider's web.

Anguish and terror envelop you like a second skin, leaving you with only one terrifying truth: you are at his mercy, a plaything in the hands of a madman. As your mind reels, a final silent scream echoes in your head, a desperate plea for someone, anyone, to save you from this hell. But in this party, this carnival of debauchery, no one notices your ordeal. You are invisible, a shadow among many others, and in that moment, you understand that the real fear is not that of dying, but that of being forgotten, lost in the darkness.

Mark is so absorbed in his act of violence that he doesn't notice the stealthy approach of Sunghoon, Jay, Jake, and Heeseung. Focused on his desire to destroy your life, he doesn't see the storm of anger brewing behind him. It's only when the ground cracks beneath their feet that Mark turns around, and his gaze meets that of the four boys. Fury and determination shine in their eyes, a fire that contrasts with the darkness of his soul. The palpable tension envelops them, a shiver of danger in the air.

When Mark releases you, your body collapses into the pool, a puppet whose strings have been cut. The sound of water splashes around you, and in an instant, everything goes silent. His cocky smile freezes, as Jake, with determined precision, dives into the water. The surface chugs, and he struggles to find you in the tumult. Every second that passes feels like an eternity, every beat of his heart echoing like a war drum in his head.

When Jake finally grabs you, time seems to freeze. Your body floats, inert, the water dripping off you as if it’s carrying away the last fragments of your life. The icy coldness of your skin hits him hard, like a brutal punch that knocks the breath out of him. His once-hot anger dissipates, replaced by a visceral fear, a fear he’s never felt before, a primal terror that grips his heart. He hugs you with frantic gentleness, pulling you out of the water, his heart beating so hard it hurts. He barely hears the sound of the others attacking Mark—all he sees, all there is to him in this moment, is you.

When he finally reaches the edge, he sets you down on the ground, adrenaline pumping through his body. The sounds of the party fade away, and only the heavy silence of anguish remains. He grabs your arm, desperately searching for a pulse, but he finds nothing. A cold terror washes over him, freezing him in place. It feels like the whole world is collapsing around him.

“No… please, wake up,” he whispers, his voice shaking, a silent cry of anguish. He begins to give you CPR, his trembling hands settling on your chest. Each pressure is a mixture of hope and despair, each second that passes brings him closer to the abyss. He feels the absence of life, and with it, the fear he’s always had of losing you comes to fruition, materializing like a dark shadow above him.

“Wake up, damn it!” His voice grows louder, full of desperation, but the sound is lost in the tumult of the party. All he sees is your limp body, and his heart breaks. Tears start to fall down his cheeks, burning like acid, each drop a fragment of his soul. Anguish washes over him, seeping into every corner of his mind. He remembers your smile, the warmth of your laughter, and those memories become daggers stuck in his heart.

His determination turns to desperation as he continues to apply pressure, hoping that his love can bring you back.

“I can’t lose you! Not now, not like this!” he screams, his voice torn, but even that seems futile. He leans closer, his face turned toward the night sky, as if the stars could offer him an answer, a solution. Each beat of his heart echoes in his ears like a countdown. He presses again, each squeeze on your chest a desperate cry for life, but each time it’s like he’s driving a dagger into his own heart. The lack of response from your body is unbearable torture.

He begins to imagine a future without you, and it destroys him even more. The images of you two together, of your laughter and your dreams, turn into shadows on a black wall. The pain is so intense that he feels like his heart is going to burst. “Wake up, I beg you!” It’s a plea, a cry of desperation, a silent promise that he’ll never let you go.

Time seems to slow down, each second expanding into eternal agony. There is only anguish pulsing around him, a black tide of despair. His hands grow heavy, tired from the effort, but he refuses to give up. He is trapped in this moment, between life and death, between hope and despair.

With every movement, every squeeze, he hopes to see a reaction, a shudder of life. He cries harder, his tears mixing with the water of the pool, a silent prayer above you. “I won’t let you go, I can’t live without you!” It’s a declaration of war against the inevitable, a cry into the void that echoes in his heart. He feels lost, as if he’s drowning in his own despair, and the darkness that surrounds him seems to swallow him up little by little.

Jake, in his desperate struggle, realizes that the only thing he has left is hope. Hope that you will come back, that you will breathe again. But as the seconds stretch by, a devastating truth sets in: he could lose you. And that thought, that horror, is more than he can bear. He vows to do anything to bring you back, to make you come back to life, no matter the cost. The tears flow freely, a mixture of desperation and love, a silent prayer for you to come back to him, so that he can hold you in his arms once more.

He leans closer, his tears falling on your face. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice a lost breath, thick with pain. “I love you, and I can’t imagine a world without you.” His words are a mix of promise and desperation, a cry from his soul. Each syllable echoes in the air, a poignant confession that may very well be his last. He closes his eyes for a moment, imagining a future where he could find you again, where you could smile again.

“Please, come back to me,” he pleads, his voice breaking. He keeps pushing, hoping, crying. In the oppressive darkness, he finds an unexpected strength, a determination not to let the darkness win. Every squeeze of your chest is a declaration of his love, a promise that he won’t let you go without a fight.

Anguish mixes with hope, a tragic dance that envelops him, and he knows that as long as he has breath, he will fight for you. “I love you so much,” he repeats, like a mantra, a desperate litany. He doesn’t know if you can hear him, but he hopes with all his heart that somewhere, deep within you, you feel his love, that flame that refuses to die.

Jake's hands are red, sore, shaking with the effort. He can feel his muscles clenching, burning with the strain, but he can't stop. He pounds your chest with fierce desperation, each blow echoing in the night like a cry of pain, as if he's trying to bring you back through sheer force of will. "I love you..." he breathes in a rasp, his voice broken, almost unrecognizable under the magnitude of his pain.

His heart is pounding, his chest tight with fear and terror. He feels like he’s being eaten alive from the inside by this fear, this horrible certainty that you might not come back, that you might leave forever, leaving him alone in a world that’s become unbearably empty. He’s never felt such pain, a gaping hole opening in his chest, an emotional wound that refuses to close. Every second you lie still under his hands, your body refusing to respond, is agony.

He continues, his movements becoming more disordered, more desperate. He hits your chest as if trying to break an invisible barrier between you and him, his breath short, tears blinding his eyes. The whole world fades away around him, all that exists is you, lying before him, and this visceral fear of losing you.

So when you suddenly cough, forcing a stream of water out of your mouth, his mind takes a moment to process what just happened. A raspy sound escapes your lips, followed by convulsive spasms, and he immediately turns you onto your side, heart pounding, his hands still shaking as he supports you. The relief is brutal, almost painful, as he watches you expel the water from your lungs, slowly regaining consciousness. He watches you with wide eyes, his breath short, unable to say a word, so overwhelming is the emotion.

But that relief is instantly replaced by a residual fear, still too intense to fade away. He turns you over gently, almost in a trance, his frantic gestures giving way to infinite tenderness. He places you on your back and collapses against you, his body trembling from all the effort he has just deployed. His head rests gently on your chest, his ear pressed against your beating heart, and he closes his eyes, as if he needs to feel this rhythm to believe that all this is not a dream, that you are really here, alive.

The steady beat of your heart against his ear is the only sound he wants to hear, each beat bringing him closer to reality. His tears continue to fall, but this time, they are no longer filled with fear. It is a brutal relief, a painful release, a burden finally fading. It is the only anchor he clings to keep from sinking completely. He listens, letting the beats erase the memories of anguish that nearly broke him. His tears, hot and uncontrolled, mix with the wetness that covers your body, but they no longer carry the weight of fear.

“God, you’re alive…” He sobs, his voice cracking with emotion. He tightens his hold around you, refusing to let go, refusing to let you move away even a little. His arms close around you, protective, desperate, and he holds you against him as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him again.

You're alive. The idea seems unreal to him. He squeezes you a little tighter, as if he's afraid you'll fade away again, slip through his fingers. He clings to you desperately, his body trembling from head to toe, emotions mixing inside him, too strong, too powerful for him to comprehend. A mixture of fear, relief, sadness, and intense love overwhelms him, a wave of emotions so violent that he feels like he's drowning.

“I love you…” he whispers, barely audible, his voice trembling. It’s no longer a cry of despair, but a raw, visceral declaration, born from the depths of his soul. It’s a truth he can no longer keep quiet, that he no longer has the strength to hold back. These words are all he has left to express the storm raging inside him. “I love you, I love you so much…”

He stays like that, motionless, his head still against your chest, listening to the beating of your heart as if to convince himself that it is real. His tears continue to flow, silently, and he doesn't even try to stop them anymore. Tired and exhausted, his body drained of all energy, he lets himself go, seeking comfort in the warmth of your body.

You gently slide your fingers through his hair, your movements slow, still clumsy, but full of gentleness. Even though you are still weak, your breath ragged, you find the strength to murmur a few reassuring words. "I'm here..." you say in a weak, almost inaudible voice, but to him, these words are everything. They are a balm on his broken heart, a promise that you have returned, that you have not left him.

He clings to you with an almost desperate intensity, his face buried in your neck, his sobs becoming quieter, but just as heartbreaking. He almost lost you. The thought continues to swirl through his mind, refusing to fade. He can't imagine what it would have been like. That black hole he was about to sink into, that endless void, is still there, but it's slowly moving away, pushed back by your presence.

Your heart beats against his cheek, and that's all that matters.

Jay stared at Mark with a terrifying coldness, his eyes reduced to icy slits that showed no mercy. Mark's smirk, even with his lips split and blood trickling at the corners of his mouth, made Jay want to vomit. The man standing before them wasn't just an enemy; he was the embodiment of everything rotten, corrupt, and sick in this world. And today, they were going to eradicate him in the most brutal way possible.

Jay exhaled slowly, the air filling his lungs like a breath of poison. A half-smoldering cigarette hung between his fingers, the red-hot tip casting hellish reflections in the dim light. He hoped the smoke, thick and acrid, could soothe the trembling in his hands, but it was no use. Nothing could calm the storm of violence rumbling inside him. Rage, pure and visceral, pulsed beneath his skin like a lurking beast, waiting for its moment to strike.

Mark stood there, tied tightly to that chair. His wrists red from the rope, his protruding knuckles white from the futile effort to free himself. He laughed. The son of a bitch was still laughing, his hoarse voice echoing through the room like a cruel mockery, each sneer a knife to Jay's mind. How could he dare smile again after what he'd tried to do?

He had almost killed her. Their wife. Their reason for existing.

Jay threw his cigarette to the ground, crushing it with an angry kick of his heel. His whole body was tense, his muscles ready to explode, to make this bastard pay for every second of pain he had inflicted on you. Sunghoon and Heeseung were no better. They were also consumed by this implacable anger, this devouring desire for revenge that bound them all together in this stifling room. The atmosphere was heavy, charged with electricity, like the wait before a storm.

Heeseung, seemingly calmer, approached Mark. His silhouette stood out in the darkness, a menacing shadow. He still held his glass of bourbon in his hand, his fingers caressing the crystal as if he were still thinking about how best to break this man. But Jay could see in his eyes that there was no room for reflection here. This was the moment for action. Pure vengeance.

“So that’s it…” Heeseung murmured, his voice soft but sharp as a blade, a threat hidden beneath an icy calm. “You really had the balls to go after what doesn’t belong to you.”

Mark slowly raised his head, his predatory grin still plastered on his lips. His face was already covered in sweat, pain beginning to creep through his veins, but it only fueled his contempt. “I should have fucked her in front of you…” he blurted out, his words oozing with poison. He spat blood onto the ground, before licking his lips in an obscene gesture. “Make her scream until her voice cracks. Then kill her slowly.” He sneered, relishing the shock he hoped to see in their eyes. “And if she’s still alive, I’ll finish the job. I’ll send you her head as a gift.”

Jay felt something snap inside him. Mark’s words weren’t just words anymore; they were blades, fangs digging into his flesh, into his soul. Mark’s laughter echoed through the room, amplified by the echo. A black, unfathomable rage seized him, but he forced himself to stay still, his hands clenched at his sides, shaking with the effort.

Sunghoon, who had been hanging back until then, stepped forward slowly. His movements were almost methodical, deliberately measured. First he removed the cufflinks from his shirt, letting the buttons fall with a soft thud. Then he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms, each movement calculated, a ritual before the slaughter. He said nothing. He didn’t need to. His mere presence was a silent threat, an omen of pain to come. He picked up a metal baseball bat that had been lying in the corner of the room, his fingers tightening around the handle with frightening familiarity.

The metal scraped against the ground with a dull, metallic sound, a deadly rumble that echoed through the heavy air. Sunghoon stepped closer to Mark, his eyes as cold as stone, and twirled the bat between his fingers, the head of the weapon resting mere inches from Mark's left hand. He pressed gently, just enough to feel the pressure without causing immediate pain.

“Choose,” Sunghoon whispered, his voice cold as death. “Head, legs, or belly.”

Mark didn't lose his composure. He sneered again, blood mingling with his sneers, and spat out one last taunt. "I choose your fucking bitch."

It was instantaneous. The metal bat rose through the air with disconcerting speed, slicing through space with a terrifying hiss. Then it came down on Mark’s face with inhuman brutality. The crack that followed was vile. The sound of bone breaking, flesh tearing. Mark’s nose exploded on impact, sending blood and teeth flying across the dirty floor. He screamed, but the sound was muffled by the pain, his dislocated jaw making his cries almost unintelligible.

Blood spurted out in abundance, a red cascade that spread across his chest, soaking his clothes. His head fell back, hanging, as he fought not to lose consciousness. But the pain was too raw, too absolute. The metal had left its mark on him, not only on his face, but in his soul.

Jay stepped closer, watching the spectacle with cold satisfaction. The sight of Mark, writhing in pain, his face unrecognizable from the blows, filled Jay with a certain unhealthy calm. It was as if, finally, things were falling into place again.

“Good shot, Hoon,” Jay said, his voice devoid of any warmth, his gaze fixed on Mark who was panting, trying to spit out the blood that was filling his mouth. But that was just the beginning. Jay wasn’t done with him yet. None of them were done.

Heeseung snorted, a low, menacing sound that seemed to vibrate through the thick air of the room. He reached into his pants pocket and slowly pulled out a Swiss Army knife, playing the blade between his fingers with eerie fluidity. The metallic click sounded cold and sharp as the dim light of the basement reflected off the gleaming steel. Heeseung moved forward, each step a dull echo on the bare concrete floor, until he stood right next to Mark, the man tied to the chair, his face swollen and bloodied but still defiant. That smirk on his chapped lips hadn’t faded yet. He thought he could still play.

Heeseung stared at him for a moment, his dark eyes betraying a world of inner chaos. Mark had tried to push you away from him. Worse yet, he had hurt you, and every thought that brought Heeseung back to that reality made a cold, almost uncontrollable rage swell within him. His fingers clenched around the handle of the knife as he fought the urge to immediately plunge the blade into this man’s throat. No. He couldn’t kill him right now. Not yet. It would have been too easy, too quick. Mark had to understand. He had to suffer.

Heeseung stopped in front of him, right next to Sunghoon, who was leaning nonchalantly on the bat now covered in blood and his closed face betrayed the same contained anger. Silence had settled between them, a heavy, oppressive silence, which seemed to seep into every corner of the room. The only thing that could be heard was Mark's erratic breathing, a mixture of fear and pain. Heeseung slowly slid the blade of his knife over the man's collarbone, a cold caress, almost sensual, but terrifying in its promise. Mark shuddered under the threat, his body reacting instinctively to the presence of the weapon against his bare skin.

“Where did the strong man you claimed to be go?” Heeseung whispered, his voice soft, almost whispered, but with a hint of icy irony. His fingers pressed the knife a little harder against Mark’s collarbone, without piercing the skin. He wanted the man to feel the imminence of the pain, to dread it before it even arrived. Time seemed suspended in this anticipation.

Mark, despite the situation, managed to maintain his smile, a smirk twisted by pain, but still arrogant. "Fuck... yourself," he spat with difficulty, hatred oozing from each word. But behind his bloodshot eyes, fear was beginning to pierce. He knew that what he felt now was only a prelude.

Heeseung smiled back, a smile devoid of humanity, before suddenly and brutally plunging the blade into Mark’s thigh. A scream pierced the air, a cry of pure agony, echoing off the walls like a gunshot. The knife sank deep into flesh, tearing muscle, severing nerves. Heeseung didn’t just stab it in—he moved the weapon inside, slowly torturing every fiber, every tendon. Blood gushed out in abundance, trickling down Mark’s thigh, forming a dark pool beneath the chair. The veins in his neck bulged as he tried to hold back his screams, but he couldn’t. The pain was too intense, too devastating to contain.

Tears quickly blurred his vision, mixing with the sweat and blood that streamed down his face in uninterrupted streams. His moans, his gasps, resonated like torture. But Heeseung did not let himself be softened by these sounds. No, this was exactly what he wanted to hear. Each cry was a note in the symphony of vengeance he was conducting. He yanked the knife away, sending a spray of blood onto his own face. He did not even care, his predatory smile stretching as he looked down at his trembling victim, Mark's muscles contracting involuntarily because of the pain.

Without a word, Heeseung stabbed the knife again, this time into Mark's right hand. The sound of the blade piercing flesh and bone was drowned out by Mark's scream, much louder, much more desperate. His entire body convulsed as he tried to wrench his hand free, but the restraints held him firmly in place, denying him any escape. Heeseung twisted the knife, slowly, making the bones crack under the pressure, savoring every moan that escaped Mark's lips.

“Funny, you’re much louder now,” Heeseung commented with icy coldness, watching Mark writhe in pain, his eyes wide open, filled with an almost animal terror. But for Heeseung, it still wasn’t enough. Every blow landed, every scream torn out, couldn’t extinguish the burning guilt that consumed him. Nothing could erase the fact that he had failed to protect you. Every drop of blood spilled was an insufficient offering to the hatred he felt towards himself.

Sunghoon, who had been hanging back until then, stepped forward in silence, observing the scene with a calm and icy intensity. He leaned forward slightly, his hands playing with the blood-dripping metal bat he held carelessly. "Did you really think this was going to be okay for you?" he whispered in a low, menacing voice, his black eyes fixed on Mark's, unable to answer, too overwhelmed by the pain.

Sunghoon slowly lifted the metal bat, dragging it along the ground with a dull, terrifying squeak. Mark, despite his pain, tried to straighten up, as if anticipating the blow, but it was useless. Sunghoon brought the bat down with brutal force on his knee. The sound of the impact was excruciating, a loud crack that resonated like a dry branch breaking under the weight of winter. Mark screamed at the top of his lungs, his body bucking forward from the wrenching pain that radiated from his shattered knee. The impact sent him over the edge, and he nearly collapsed on his side, but the ropes holding him prevented him from escaping his hell.

Sunghoon, unperturbed, brought the bat down a second time, then a third. Each blow resounded like an irrevocable sentence, each cry torn from Mark seemed to be lost in nothingness. His legs were now masses of deformed flesh and blood. His body no longer responded, only his mind, prisoner of immeasurable suffering, continued to resist, weakly, the horror that was playing out around him.

Jay moved forward, the chains in his hand rattling in an ominous rhythm that echoed through the heavy, oppressive air. Each sound of metal seemed to amplify the palpable fear in Mark's eyes as he struggled to back away. His hands were bound, and the sharp pain of his dislocated jaw now had him screaming silently, his inaudible pleas mingling with his desperation. He was trapped, locked in a dark room where the only escape seemed to be death.

Jay stopped a few feet away from him, surrounded by Heeseung and Sunghoon, who shared the same devilish grin. His gaze fixed on Mark, a glint of delight in his eyes, as he tightened the chains, the echo of the metal resonating like a promise of pain.

“You’re not getting out of here alive… Mark,” Jay whispered, his voice low and icy, each word dripping with menace. He wrapped the chain around his hand, anticipation making his muscles quiver. With a sudden movement, he slammed the chain against Mark’s skin, the impact echoing through the air like a clap of thunder.

Mark's scream cut through the air, a howl of pain and terror that echoed off the walls of the room. His eyes widened as he realized the magnitude of what was coming his way. "No! Please! Don't do this!" he stammered, but his voice was choked with fear. Jay, however, showed no mercy.

With a ferocious rage, he continued his attack, the chain lashing at Mark's flesh. The blows piled up, leaving deeper and deeper marks, tearing skin and drawing blood. Jay watched in insane satisfaction, the hatred burning inside him spilling over every bit of flesh. The blood spatters burst onto his clothes like shards of macabre paint, staining him a dark red, each drop bringing a thrill of excitement through him.

Heeseung, watching with a predatory grin, took a step forward. “You know, Mark, they always said that pain was an art,” he said mockingly, his sugary voice contrasting with the brutality of the scene. He cleaned his Swiss Army knife, the blade gleaming in the dim light. “And we’re here to create our masterpiece.”

Mark, tears in his eyes, felt the pain invade every fiber of his being. Jay's gaze, mad and unleashed, focused on him. "Remember what you did," he whispered before striking again. The chain fell on his chest, tearing a cry of despair, while blood dripped, mixing with the sweat and anguish that permeated the air.

Each blow was a statement, an assertion of power over his life. “You dared to betray us,” Jay continued, his voice vibrating with dull anger. “You think you can get away with this?” He raised the chain, making it flash in the light before bringing it down with redoubled force, the sound of metal against flesh like a battle cry.

The blows came one after another, relentless. Mark could feel his flesh tearing, each impact sending waves of searing pain through his body. The taste of iron, of his own blood, invaded his mouth, but he was helpless. The anguish and the pain intertwined, creating a whirlwind of horror in his mind, a reality he could no longer bear.

“This is so much fun,” Heeseung whispered, reaching out with the knife. He slid the blade across Mark’s skin, creating a red line that quickly turned into a stream of blood. “Look at how much pain he’s in. It’s almost beautiful.” His smile was sinister, each word charged with perverse euphoria.

Mark squirmed, struggling against his bonds, but every movement only made the pain worse. He could feel his body weakening, the warmth of his blood pooling around him. “I… I’m not…” he stammered, but the words choked in his throat. The pain was taking over everything, and he knew he was at the mercy of these monsters.

Jay continued to rage at him, each blow harder than the last, Mark's face twisting under the impact. "We're going to make an example of you," Jay yelled, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. "A warning to anyone who dares come near us!"

Sunghoon's laughter rang through the room, a haughty and cruel sound. "We're not going to kill you right away. No, we have other plans for you." He stepped closer, taking malicious pleasure in observing Mark's pain, his suffering becoming their entertainment.

Jay lifted the chain one last time, the movement slow and thick with menace. “You see, Mark, the pain you feel is nothing compared to what we felt because of you,” he said in a dark, almost contemplative tone. Then he brought the chain down with titanic force, the impact causing an eerie crack, the sound of flesh breaking under the weight of hatred.

Mark, lost in an ocean of pain, closed his eyes for a moment, hoping that this was all just a nightmare. But reality hit him with renewed force, every drop of blood that flowed, every pain inflicted, bringing him back to the cruelty of his existence.

Heeseung, still with his knife, leaned close to him, almost tenderly. “We’ll make sure you remember this night… even in death,” he whispered. The touch of the blade on his skin was icy, causing a new wave of shivers.

“You hurt our family,” Jay added, a burning intensity in his gaze. “And we’re going to make sure you regret it, until your dying breath.”

Mark's tears and snot flowed relentlessly, a desperate stream mixing with the blood that bathed his wounds. Darkness surrounded his mind, and the pain continued to increase, each blow bringing him closer to the inevitable. But deep within him, something still resided—a spark of resistance that refused to be extinguished.

Jake held you so tightly against him that you could feel every rapid beat of his heart, every sigh he let out. Lying on top of you, his body wrapped around yours like a protective shield. You were unable to move under his embrace, but you didn't want to. Everything about the way he touched you, the way he held you, spoke of fear and relief. A deep, almost primal fear, as if he had feared losing you forever, and an equally intense relief to know you were still there, alive, breathing beneath him.

The hours had passed without you realizing it. Darkness had slowly engulfed the room, but neither of you who were there had moved, not even to turn on a light. You didn't need to. The only thing that mattered was the slow rhythm of your synchronized breaths, the soothing caresses of your fingers in his hair, and the way his tears silently slid down your skin, leaving salty traces that you sometimes felt mixing with yours.

You had tried several times to reassure him, to whisper to him that you were there, that you weren’t going anywhere, but nothing seemed to be enough. Jake didn’t answer you. He stayed there, clinging to you like a dream he was afraid would fade away. His head was nestled against your chest, his hot, irregular breath gently tickling your skin through the thin fabric of your top. He clung to you, his fingers gripping your waist with a silent urgency, as if he was squeezing you with all his might to keep you with him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his voice came out, weak and shaky. “You know…” he began, his throat tight with emotion. He trailed off, as if searching for words, fighting the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. You felt his body tense slightly against yours, and you knew he was about to tell you something that had been weighing heavily on his heart for a long time.

His voice shook again as he spoke again, almost inaudible. “If you hadn’t woken up… I would have joined you.” His words, so simple yet so full of despair, hit you like a punch. They hung in the air between you, and you felt your heart clench painfully at the confession. He couldn’t live without you, and the brutal sincerity of that reality left you speechless.

You wanted to answer him, to tell him that everything was okay now, but before you could even say his name, Jake cut you off. “I know what you’re going to say, Y/n.” His voice, even broken, was soft, filled with that infinite tenderness he always had for you. He buried his head a little more against your chest, as if he needed to hear the reassuring beat of your heart again and again. “But that’s how much I love you…” His fingers gently caressed your stomach, slow and nervous movements that only strengthened the lump in your throat. “I can’t live without you.”

He looked up, his tear-swollen eyes finally meeting yours, and what you saw there shocked you. His pupils shone with a mixture of love and fear, a fear so deep that it seemed etched into his features. His lips trembled slightly, and you could almost feel his palpable distress in the air. He was trying to etch you into his memory, to reassure himself that you were really there, that you weren't a mirage.

“I… I love you too, Jake,” you finally answered in a weak voice, your words thick with emotion. Your fingers slid gently over his damp cheek, carefully wiping away the tears that continued to fall silently. You didn’t want him to cry. Seeing Jake, such a strong and protective man, break like this in front of you was tearing you apart inside. You wanted to be his strength, his anchor. “Why are you crying, did I say something wrong?” you whispered worriedly, trying to lighten the mood, but your own heart was beating too fast, trapped in its emotions.

Jake shook his head, a weak, fragile smile brushing his lips. He sniffled softly, his eyes closing for a moment as if he was savoring this closeness with you. “No, sweetheart.” His voice was a mixture of sweetness and pain, his words filled with immeasurable tenderness. Slowly, he sat up to lie beside you, but never breaking contact with you. He wrapped his arm around your waist, tugging lightly on you so that your bodies were even closer.

He took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers with a delicacy that made you melt. He slowly brought your fingers to his lips, placing a kiss on each knuckle, his gestures filled with infinite tenderness. He lingered on your ring finger, his lips brushing against it as if he already saw it as a symbol of something greater. “I’m just so happy… happy that you finally love me the way I love you,” he whispered, his voice broken with emotion.

His eyes were searching you, as if he wanted to pierce your soul, to make sure that you really felt the same way, that this bond between you was real and indestructible. You felt his love, this palpable force that emanated from him, and it warmed you from the inside. There was nothing purer, more beautiful than this moment shared with him, this unconditional, unrestrained love.

“I’m sure I love you as much as you love me,” you whispered, your gaze locked with his, a small smile lighting up your features. You let a small laugh escape as you stole a kiss from him, light and tender, barely brushing his lips before shyly turning away. But Jake didn’t let you go. He immediately pulled you against him, pulling you even closer, his hand slipping behind your neck to keep you from pulling away again.

“Then love me as much as I love you.” His words were a whisper against your lips, barely audible, but so full of desire and need. He captured your lips in a slow, soft kiss, filled with infinite tenderness. He didn’t seek more, he didn’t want burning passion or fiery gestures. All he wanted was this moment of pure sweetness, of connection. His lips moved gently against yours, savoring every moment, every movement, as if he was trying to prolong this moment for eternity.

Time seemed to stretch as you stood there, lost in each other, your bodies in perfect harmony, your souls touching in a way that only those who love each other deeply can understand.

You finally emerge from a deep sleep, groaning softly under the delicate caresses of a hand that brushes your face. The sensations of warmth and softness envelop you, but the instinct to stay in the cozy cocoon of your dreams urges you to push this hand away. However, the caress becomes more insistent, softer, like a murmur of affection that slowly pulls you from your sleep. You groan once more, but the excess of softness pushes you to open your eyes.

Abruptly, you raise your head, and the unexpected shock of your forehead hitting Heeseung's nose makes you flinch. He lets out a small groan of surprise, his face contorting into a comical expression. Pulling back slightly, he touches his nose with a mock-hurt expression. "Ouch! Sorry, I'm sorry!" escapes your lips, a guilty glint in your eyes as you take his chin in your hand to inspect his nose.

“No bleeding,” you announce with relief, your heart relaxing a little as you fall back onto the pillow, trying to calm the frantic beating of your heart.

“I think you’re really trying to kill me, honey,” he says with a teasing smile, but you sense the underlying sadness in his voice, a tone you’ve learned to recognize over time. He tries to mask his worry, but his eyes betray his inner state.

You straighten up slightly, your eyes searching his. “What’s bothering you?” you ask, your voice soft as a caress, full of tenderness. He opens his mouth to answer, but you interrupt him gently before he can let his thoughts escape. “And don’t tell me anything,” you tell him, feigning a stern look as you point your finger at him. His small smile melts you, but you know that this is not the time to let his emotions pass.

“I failed you, Y/n…” He whispers the words, his voice soft, but the weight of guilt chokes him. “I didn’t protect you like I should have.” Lowering his head, he avoids your gaze, afraid that you’ll see the shame that eats away at his heart. Each word weighs heavily in the air, and you feel a dull ache gnawing at you from the inside.

“Hee… you never let me down,” you say with infinite tenderness, wanting to reassure him. “None of you did, and if something happened, it was for a reason.” You try to make him smile, to chase away the shadow that haunts him. You laugh softly, an attempt at lightness to ease the tense atmosphere. But he pulls away a little before you can reach him, and the sight of his clenched fists breaks your heart. You know he’s struggling with his emotions, and it saddens you deeply.

“Yell at me, tell me it’s my fault, but don’t lie to me… I couldn’t take it,” he whispers, his voice shaking and thick with pain. His tears start to fall, and he kneels before you, a broken man at the mercy of his own demons. Each word resonates like a clap of thunder in your chest. “I was always told to protect the woman I love… but I failed you. I failed miserably. Do I even deserve to live after this, Y/n?”

Tears slide down his cheeks, and you are overcome by a wave of emotion. Without hesitation, you stand up and fall to your knees in front of him, hugging him with all your strength. “Hee… please don’t say that,” you plead, your voice broken with sobs. “You’ve never failed anywhere, okay?” Your arms tighten around him, caressing his back tenderly to comfort him. “You’ve always protected me, I promise. And if you die, how will I survive losing you? How will I survive losing the man I love?”

Your cries intensify, a torrent of pain and despair as you hold him even tighter against you, trying to hold back the rising anguish. The thought of losing him seems unbearable, and you feel like every tear shed is a piece of your heart breaking.

Heeseung sniffles as he looks up at you, his eyes glistening with tears, still so full of sorrow. “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart,” he says softly, cupping your face in his hands, his thumbs gently sliding over your damp cheeks. “My wife never apologizes for anything in front of me, because she’s never wrong.” His gaze grows intense, searching for comforting truth in your misty eyes.

“I love you, Hee,” you whisper, a sincere affirmation filled with warmth. You nod slowly, hanging on every word he says. His small smile lights up his face, a glimmer of hope even through his tears. Holding you close, he breathes in your scent, and you can feel the tension between you ease, like a breath of serenity enveloping you.

“I love you too… I love you so much,” he whispers, his voice vibrating with emotion. His hands tenderly caress your hair, sliding gently through your locks, as if he wants to etch you into his memory. He keeps you firmly anchored against him, and in this embrace, you know that this is where you should be.

The beats of your hearts match, creating a soothing melody. In this fragile moment, enveloped by the warmth of your love, you know that you are together, united in this delicate dance where each tear shed becomes a step towards healing. Each smile exchanged, a promise of a better future.

You hear his heart, beating in unison with yours, and the soft harmony soothes you. He leans towards you then, his eyes shining with a tender light. “Promise me you’ll never leave me,” he says, his voice quivering with palpable worry.

“I promise,” you answer without hesitation, the sincerity of your words echoing like a sweet melody in the warm air between you.

He leans down gently, capturing your lips in a tender kiss, an exchange of love and silent promises. It’s a soft kiss, filled with warmth and sweetness, a moment suspended in time where everything seems perfect. Your lips melt to his, and you feel a wave of warmth invade your heart, each shiver running down your spine a testament to the love between you.

In that moment, the outside world becomes a blur, worries fade away, and you realize that as long as you're together, you can weather any storm. He hugs you tighter, as if to keep you close, and you know that in his arms, you're safe.

After a long moment, he breaks the kiss, his eyes boring into yours, trying to read every nuance of your thoughts. “Stay with me,” he murmurs, and you nod, knowing that’s what you want more than anything.

“I will always stay with you,” you promise, and in his eyes you see the determination of love, a love that has overcome so many trials, that is stronger than all fears.

Together, you snuggle, wrapped in a comforting embrace, the outside world no longer mattering. In this bubble of warmth and love, every shared sigh becomes a promise, every heartbeat a hymn to your unwavering connection.

Your stomach rumbles softly, interrupting the soothing calm that had settled between you. Heeseung, sitting in front of you, continues to caress your back with a slow and reassuring gesture, a slight amused smile playing on his lips. His fingers brush your skin with that usual delicacy, as if he were weaving an invisible thread between you through each contact. The warmth of his hand warms you, envelops you in a bubble of security that makes you want to stay there for eternity.

“Jay’s in the kitchen,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and gentle, like an extra caress to your senses. “If you go now, I think he’ll be almost done already.” He speaks with that quiet nonchalance, but every word is laced with that subtle affection you feel in every move he makes.

Heeseung then leans slightly towards you, placing a kiss on your forehead, a gesture so tender that it makes you close your eyes, savoring this simple contact. His lips are soft, and this kiss, although short, leaves a lasting imprint on you, a trace of heat that persists long after he has moved away from you. You let out a small moan, almost involuntary, when his body detaches from yours, and you open an eye, disappointed to see him already moving away. This distance already seems too great to you.

Your gaze scans the room for Jake, but his absence is quickly noticed. The bed he was lying in is empty, and a feeling of emptiness briefly overwhelms you. But Heeseung, attentive as always, seems to guess the question floating on your lips before you even formulate it.

“He went for his morning jog,” he explains soothingly, his soft eyes settling on you. “He’ll be back around ten or eleven, don’t worry, honey.” His smile widens slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “He was absolutely glowing this morning.”

A small laugh escapes his lips, a sound that fills the room with a welcome lightness, and you can't help but smile back. This moment is so simple, so natural, but at the same time, it is filled with infinite tenderness. You let yourself be lulled by this atmosphere, by the softness of his voice and the reassuring warmth of his presence.

After a moment, you slowly straighten up, your muscles still heavy from sleep, and you lean towards Heeseung to place a light kiss on the tip of his nose, a playful gesture that makes him smile. He closes his eyes under this soft touch, his eyelashes lightly tickling your skin. When he opens his eyes again, his gaze is even more tender than before, filled with a silent but palpable affection. It's one of those looks that melts you, that makes you feel loved unconditionally.

“I’ll see you later,” you whisper softly, reluctantly pulling away, but with the promise of finding him again soon. Just knowing that you’re expected, that this love and warmth surrounds you, gives you a certain serenity.

You walk with legs still slightly numb, and you head towards the kitchen where Jay must be preparing something. However, lost in the grandeur of the mansion, you find yourself taking the wrong path, and, at the turn of a corridor, you land by chance in the bathroom.

In front of you stands Sunghoon, a simple towel wrapped around his waist, his body still wet from his recent shower. Small drops of water slowly slide down his torso, drawing winding paths on his lightly tanned skin. The soft light of the room highlights every curve of his body, and your breath catches briefly at the sight.

“Rabbit,” he says in a low voice, almost a whisper, as a tender smile touches his lips. Yet, something in his posture unsettles you. Usually so sure of himself, you see him hesitant today, almost uncomfortable. He looks away slightly, as if trying to avoid your eyes.

You stare at him, intrigued. His movements are clumsy, as if he doesn't know what to do with his hands anymore, his things almost falling from his fingers without him paying attention. This unusual clumsiness in him makes you frown.

“I… I’ll leave the place to you,” he finally says, his voice hesitant, almost evasive. He steps aside, trying to sneak away, but you quickly step in front of him, blocking his exit from your body. Something is wrong, and you refuse to let him go without understanding what’s bothering him.

“Since when have you been so clumsy, Mr. Perfection?” you whisper softly, your voice tinged with a slight mockery of affection. But beneath that light tone, you seek to understand what is truly troubling him. He still avoids your gaze, backing away again, but you move forward, closing the distance between you until his back gently meets the tiled wall.

“And since when are you so nervous around me? This is new, I must say.” Your hands come to rest delicately on his chest, feeling the warmth of his still damp skin under your fingers. The contact is tender, comforting, as if you were trying to soothe the tensions you feel in him.

“Y/n!” he growls softly, but his voice lacks strength. His gaze, usually so piercing, seems today clouded, full of confusion and restraint. He tries to move away, but there is no more space between you. His hands, always so sure, remain still, as if paralyzed by emotion.

“You don’t call me bunny anymore?” you continue lightly, your fingers gently tracing a line on his abs, following the path of the water drops sliding down his skin. “Have you found someone else?” you joke, but beneath your words lies genuine concern.

Your hand moves down further, but before you can go any further, Sunghoon grabs your wrist firmly, his gaze finally locked with yours.

“Stop playing with me, and you know damn well it’s just you, bunny.” His voice, initially hoarse, softens as he tries to pull away a little, but instead of pushing you away completely, he slides his arms around you to keep you from going too far. His breathing is heavy, as if he’s trying to control himself, his eyes staring at you with a disconcerting intensity. Yet, you see past his facade, you perceive this tenderness that he tries to hide behind his seriousness.

In one fluid motion, he slowly turns you around, leading you against the cool tiles of the bathroom. But he doesn't pin you down, he guides you, his hand sliding down your back, almost protective. The contact with the cool tiles contrasts with the warmth of his body against yours, which makes you gasp slightly. You look at him, searching for an answer in his eyes, but instead of speaking, he just devours you with his gaze, as if he's trying to understand what's happening between you, as if this moment is too precious to be rushed.

“But if you keep this up… there might be baby bunnies,” he murmurs, a soft, tender smile playing on his lips, softening his remark. There’s no trace of stiffness or restraint in his voice anymore. His words are filled with warmth and affection, as if he wants to combine humor with the intensity of this moment. He places a hand on your stomach, not to hold you, but to feel you, to keep a physical connection between you.

You shiver under the softness of his touch, but something deep inside you tells you there’s more. Something deeper than this game, something more vulnerable. You can feel it, in the way he watches you, in the hesitant way he touches you, almost as if he’s afraid of breaking something between you. So you decide to push him to reveal himself, to confront him, not with harsh words, but with the gentleness that will disarm him.

“Park…” your voice is soft, almost a whisper. You raise a trembling hand to him, your fingers delicately brushing his arms. His skin shivers under your touch, and you press yourself a little closer to him, your body seeking the comforting warmth of his. He doesn’t move, his muscles tense under your fingers, as if he’s holding something back, as if he’s afraid of what this moment might reveal. Your hands slide gently along his biceps, and you sense a hesitation in him, a vulnerability he tries to hide behind a facade of strength.

But you know him too well. You know he's not just this mask of perfection he puts on. There's more, much more beneath the surface. So, without letting go, you pull him against you, wrapping your arms tightly around him, refusing to give him the space he tries to maintain. Your tears, which you've been holding back for a long time, start to fall, slowly, silently. They betray the intensity of your emotions, your need to show him that you're there, that you don't want him to hide his truths from you, even the ones that make him more fragile.

Beneath you, he freezes, surprised by the intensity of your tears. But as you cling to him, his arms instinctively close around you. His hands slide into your hair, gently caressing your locks soaked with your own tears. He holds you against him, rocking you gently, as if to soothe your pain. His breath becomes shorter, and you can feel his throat tighten against your cheek.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” you whisper through your tears, your voice breaking under the weight of emotion. You pull back slightly, enough to gaze into his eyes. Your eyes, reddened by tears, desperately search for an answer in his gaze, a mutual understanding of what you’re going through together. He looks at you with infinite tenderness, a pain he can no longer hide. His jaw is clenched, as if he’s fighting the urge to cry with you.

“I love you,” you finally say, in a barely audible breath, but with such sincerity that the words seem to weigh on your lips. You feel him tremble slightly under your body, and he closes his eyes for a moment, as if the words are overwhelming him. He lets them sink in, welcomes them like a wave that sweeps away everything in its path.

He pulls back slightly, opening his eyes, and you can see confusion in his gaze, a sort of disbelief. “You… you love me?” His voice is a mix of surprise and fear. He doesn’t move anymore, as if he’s afraid that reality will shatter if he dares to hope that your words are true. His eyes roam your face, searching for confirmation, for a truth to hold on to.

You nod slowly, tears still flowing freely down your cheeks. “Yes,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion. “I am completely in love with you.” Your words are fragile, but carried by a certainty that you can no longer ignore. Your heart beats so hard in your chest that you wonder if he can hear it. Slowly, you lean down to place your lips on his forehead, kissing every mole, every patch of skin with infinite tenderness. Each kiss is a promise, a silent declaration of love, a way for you to show him how much you care.

Under your kisses, he lets out a shaky sigh, his warm breath caressing your skin. His hands slide over your hips, pulling you even closer to him, as if he were afraid of losing you at this moment. His eyes close slowly under the intensity of your attention, and he lets a solitary tear run down his cheek. This vulnerability that you see in him touches you deeply, and you finally understand that he never wanted to hide his emotions from you, but that he was simply afraid to give in to them.

You find each other, your faces close, your breaths mingling, and your lips brush in a soft, almost shy kiss. It's a kiss full of promise, of all those things you haven't said yet, but already know. There's no rush, no burning passion in this gesture. Just an infinite tenderness, a gentle warmth that envelops each of you. The salty taste of your tears mixes with the softness of your lips, and this kiss becomes a refuge, a place where you can finally be completely yourselves.

When he pulls away slightly, he whispers against your lips, his voice filled with an emotion he no longer tries to hide. "I love you too, bunny." His words are so sweet, so full of love, that you feel your heart swell with happiness. He places a hand on your stomach, gently caressing your skin, as if he wanted to engrave this moment in his memory. Then, with infinite tenderness, he in turn places kisses on your face, following the path you had traced on his. Each kiss is a silent promise, a testimony of everything he feels for you.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispers under his breath. “My heart couldn’t take it.” His voice is soft, tinged with a slight tremor, and you can feel how sincere his statement is. His fingers slide down your face, skimming your skin with infinite delicacy, gently wiping away the last of the tears that are pearling on your cheeks.

You smile softly, caressing his face in return. “I promise I won’t do it again, old man,” you joke, your voice soft, full of love and newfound lightness. You run your hands over his body, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, before pulling away slowly, a mischievous smile on your lips. “Come on, go get dressed before you get all wrinkled and crumpled.” Your voice is teasing, but filled with deep affection.

He looks at you, a disbelieving smile playing on his lips, before letting out a soft, light laugh. “What? Rabbit, seriously, who’s the old man here?” he calls out jokingly, as you walk away, laughing softly, your heart still pounding in your chest.

You stand there, in front of the kitchen door, as if you were frozen in time. Your hand rests gently on the handle, but you don't dare to open it immediately. Behind that door, you know he's there. You can almost feel his presence, like a heavy shadow that seems to invade the air of the house. A wave of inexplicable sadness invades you. Your heart beats faster and faster, and you close your eyes for a moment, trying to calm the flood of emotions that threatens to overwhelm you. It takes you a few seconds before you finally let out a small sigh and decide to enter.

When the door opens, a soft light bathes the kitchen in a soft, almost soothing atmosphere. But the atmosphere is heavy, and there he is, sitting at the table, completely still. Jay looks exhausted, as if he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders. His apron is tied carelessly around his waist, and his shirt, slightly open, reveals a sweat-damp torso, proof that he has probably spent hours trying to forget, to occupy his mind with mechanical gestures. His fingers are wrapped around a half-smoked cigarette, which he holds between his lips, the smoke rising lazily towards the ceiling.

You stop for a moment, your gaze fixed on him. He is magnificent, despite the aura of fatigue and sadness that surrounds him. His hair, a little messy, falls carelessly on his forehead, and you notice the droplets of sweat that still bead on his skin. He seems lost in his thoughts, his eyes closed, his head slightly tilted forward. He hasn't seen you yet.

Your gaze briefly slides to the ashtray on the table, and your heart tightens a little more. The ashtray is filled with cigarette butts, all barely consumed. He must have spent a long time here, alone, smoking nervously. Each cigarette, half abandoned, seems like an attempt to calm a storm he can't control. A dull ache seizes you in the chest as you realize how bad he must be, and you find yourself feeling this almost desperate urge to comfort him.

You approach him slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. The closer you get, the more you can feel the tension in his shoulders, the tightness that betrays how close he is to collapse. Without a word, you whisper his name, barely a breath, as if you were afraid of breaking him further. “Jay…”

At your call, he slowly opens his eyes, his eyelids heavy with fatigue, as if he were struggling against an invisible weight. When he looks at you, there is a sparkle in his eyes that squeezes your heart. It is not a sparkle of joy or surprise, but something deeper, darker. It is a mixture of sadness, fear, and maybe even a pain that he tries to hide. He cracks a smile, but you see right away that it is forced, that it cannot reach his eyes. "Hey, you," he whispers hoarsely.

You don't hesitate a second longer. You step closer, your instinct pushing you to be close to him, to make sure he knows you're there, with him, for him. You lean down slightly, and without saying anything, you gently run your hand through his hair. His locks are slightly damp with sweat, and your fingers slide slowly through them, caressing his forehead in a gesture as tender as possible. He closes his eyes under your touch, as if he were trying to abandon himself to this moment, to this sweetness that you offer him without reserve.

“Jay,” you repeat softly, your heart clenching a little more with each passing moment. He opens his eyes again and looks at you with an intensity that catches you off guard. He seems about to say something, but you sense that he is too exhausted, too lost to find the words.

You sit gently on his lap, settling against him with an almost instinctive familiarity. Your legs on either side of his, you move a little closer, making sure that your body against his brings him silent comfort. You wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers delicately caressing the base of his neck. He then places his free hand on your thigh, his palm warm against your skin, as if he needs to feel you there, against him, as if he is afraid that you will disappear if you are not close enough.

He looks up at you, his fingers trembling slightly against your skin. “Did you cry?” he whispers, his voice barely a breath. His eyes are full of worry, but he’s so tired, so upset, that he has a hard time keeping his gaze on you.

You nod slowly, cracking a small smile, even though your heart is heavy with sadness for him. “Just a little,” you admit under your breath, trying to minimize the impact of your own emotions so as not to burden him further. “But it’s okay.” Your voice is meant to be reassuring, soothing, and you let out a soft, almost shy laugh, hoping that it will lighten his load, even just a little.

You continue to run your fingers through his hair, gently caressing each strand, and you feel his body slowly relax beneath you. His shoulders, once tense, begin to sag, and his breathing becomes more regular. You finally feel him release some of the tension he's been accumulating for so long.

“I think you’re the one who’s sad,” you finally whisper, breaking the silence delicately. You place a soft kiss on the tip of his nose, a simple gesture but filled with affection, tenderness. He frowns slightly, surprised, and a very light pink colors his cheeks. It’s almost imperceptible, but you see it, and it warms your heart to know that you can still elicit this kind of reaction from him, even in his darkest moments.

He shakes his head gently, but his smile fades almost immediately. "I'm not sad," he says, but his voice lacks conviction. "Baby, I'm fine." He slowly brings the cigarette to his lips, but you can see from the look in his eyes that he doesn't even believe it himself. You give him a look full of softness and understanding, and he sighs heavily before placing the cigarette back in the ashtray.

“I’m just angry,” he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper. He places his hand back on your thigh, and this time, his grip is a little tighter, a little more desperate, like he needs to hold on to you to keep from falling apart.

“And…fuck, I’m so scared.” Jay’s voice trembles, each word seeming to escape him like a painful confession. His eyes, usually shining with trust, are now clouded with palpable fear, a vulnerability you’ve never seen in him. He’s not just scared; he’s terrified. The hand that’s firmly gripping your thigh trembles slightly, betraying the anxiety that’s taking over him.

You feel your heart clench. “Jay—” you start, but he cuts you off, his quivering voice taking on a more desperate tone.

“No, let me finish.” His eyes lock onto yours with a desperate intensity, as if he’s searching for an anchor in the storm raging inside him. You nod, understanding that this is a crucial moment for him. Your hand slides gently down his back, caressing him tenderly, an instinctive gesture to comfort him. His breathing becomes a little more regular under your touch, but you can feel the tension in his muscles, a mixture of fear and resignation.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life…” He takes a deep breath, his gaze wandering into space for a moment, as if reliving a traumatic experience. “And I don’t want it to happen again. I don’t know if I could survive without you…” Each word rings like a distress bell, and you feel a shiver run through your body, the reality of his words sinking deep into your heart.

You know what he feels is a mix of fear and love. It’s a vulnerable confession, and in that moment, you realize how much he needs you. “I love you too much, Y/n, for shit like this to happen to you,” he continues, his voice cracking, each syllable a silent cry for your safety. He bites his bottom lip, and you can see the tears glistening in his eyes, ready to spill over. His fragility touches you in ways you never imagined. He’s usually so strong, so protective, and seeing him like this, helpless and exposed, breaks your heart.

“You won’t lose me,” you say, each word a promise, a declaration of your commitment. “I’m yours, remember?” You feel like those words are the most powerful you can give him. You’re here, and you always will be. He nods slowly, his gaze betraying an inner struggle. You see his face tighten slightly, and you know he’s trying to hold back tears, not show you how broken he is.

He buries his face in your chest, seeking refuge. Your arms instinctively wrap around him, and you pull him closer, holding him against you as if you can protect him from all the pain in the world. “Y/n…” he whispers, and it’s a cry for help, a desperate need for connection. You can feel his tears seeping through your top, soaking the fabric with his pain, and it hurts to know how vulnerable he feels.

You continue your caresses on his back, tracing soothing circles, each movement slow and delicate. It’s a gesture of tenderness, a way to show him that he’s not alone. “I love you and I’ll never… never… never let you go,” you promise, each word heavy with meaning. You place soft kisses on the top of his head, each touch a point of light in the darkness he feels. His cries intensify as you surround him with warmth, and you know he’s releasing everything he’s kept buried.

“I… I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he finally admits, his voice choked with sobs. He hates himself for being exposed like this, but you can also see the gratitude in his misty eyes, a recognition that you’re there for him, that you’re the only one who can see this side of him. “I’m supposed to be strong… but…” His voice trails off, leaving a raw vulnerability that breaks your heart.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, Jay,” you say softly, your fingers still playing with his hair, trying to give him some comfort. “It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to cry.” The words seem to hang in the air, a soothing truth, and you see a slight shift in his gaze, a mixture of surprise and relief. For him, this must be a revelation. He’s always thought he had to be the pillar, but now you’re giving him permission to be human, to be vulnerable.

His hands find your waist, fingers wrapping around your body like a vine seeking support. “I’ve never had someone make me feel so safe,” he says with heartbreaking sincerity, his eyes searching yours to confirm that you’re here, that you’re real. In that moment, you see the weight of his fear lift slightly, replaced by a comforting warmth.

“Then let me be the one to hold you,” you whisper, your eyes locked with his. “I want to be there for all your fears, all your joys. Together.” His gaze softens, a glimmer of hope shining through the lingering tears. He straightens slightly, his face inches from yours, and you see the conflict in his eyes, the desire to believe your words, but also the fear of reality.

“I don’t want to see you suffer because of me,” he whispers, and it’s like a sword sticking into your heart. Every word he says is a weight, a burden he carries alone. You know he feels guilty for his condition, for his fears, but you’re there to remind him that he doesn’t have to carry this burden alone.

“You’re not hurting me,” you say, your voice firm but gentle. “I want you to be open with me, to share all of this. That’s how we move forward together.” You know it will take time, that the road will be strewn with obstacles, but you’re willing to travel it with him.

“I’ve never had anyone understand me like you do,” he finally says, his words floating between you like a promise. He leans closer, seeking a reassuring closeness, and you can feel the warmth of his body blending with yours. The contact becomes a bubble of protection, a cocoon where you can hide from the realities outside.

“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” you assure him fervently, your hand caressing his face once more, touching him tenderly. “No matter what happens, I’m by your side.” His tears continue to fall, but now they’re a mixture of sadness and relief, and you know he’s starting to find comfort in this connection.

“Y/n…” He whispers your name, and it’s like a song, a sweet word filled with all the promises and hopes you share. He straightens up slightly, your faces so close you can feel his breath on your skin. His heartbeat resonates in his chest, and you know he feels the same intensity of emotion you do.

You lean forward, your lips almost brushing, and in that space, you know you could lose him, but you could also save him. “I love you, Jay,” you say, your voice filled with sweetness. “I’ll always be here, for you, with you.”

“I love you too,” he whispers against your lips, his voice barely audible, but each word echoes like a soft melody in the air. His words slip delicately between you, creating an intimate space where the outside world disappears. Then, he moves a little closer, closing the distance between you.

His lips touch yours with infinite tenderness, as if each kiss were a silent promise. Their movements are slow, almost hesitant at first, but charged with an overflowing love that only asks to be expressed. There is a softness in the touch of his lips, a quiver of emotions that makes your heart beat even faster. He moves his lips delicately against yours, caressing every millimeter with meticulous attention, as if he were trying to engrave this moment in his memory.

You can taste the slightly bitter taste of cigarettes on his lips, a mixture of his world and the intimacy you share. It’s a familiar taste, but what touches you most is the love that expresses itself through each movement, each press of his lips against yours. He gently teases your tongue with his, playing a soft game of back and forth that envelops you in a comforting warmth. It’s a moment suspended in time, where everything around you seems to fade away.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn’t quite pull away. Instead, he rests his forehead against yours, his eyes boring into yours, searching for an even deeper connection. There’s something so vulnerable and beautiful about that gesture, a desire to get closer beyond words. His eyes shine with an intensity that makes you smile, a glow full of promise and shared desire.

He holds you a little tighter against him, his arms wrapping around your body in protective softness. You can feel his heart beating in time with yours, a soft melody that resonates in this peaceful moment. 

Epilogue 

“I’m so glad you love us as much as we love you, Professor,” Heeseung murmurs softly, his soft voice floating in the air like a delicate melody. His lips brush your neck, trailing light kisses along your pulse, where life beats. Each touch of his skin against yours seems to cause a wave of heat, a shiver of affection that runs through your entire being. He keeps you seated on him, his arms protecting you like a cocoon of tenderness, and you can’t help but get lost in the intensity of his gaze.

“You know you’re our reason for living, right?” he adds, his eyes shining with an almost childlike sincerity. In that moment, you realize how much love surrounds you, a bubble of happiness that envelops you. You nod slowly, moved by the depth of his feelings, as you feel Jake tighten his grip on your thigh. His thumb slides delicately over your skin, creating a soft friction that makes you moan softly, a sound that resonates like a sweet melody in the air.

“You can never leave us again,” Jake whispers, his voice low and husky blending with the intensity of the moment. His eyes, dark and deep, bore into yours, captivating you. “Every inch of you is etched with our love, and I can’t even imagine a moment where you wouldn’t be by our side.” He pauses, his breathing intensifying, and you can feel the passion in his words. “You are our light, our star in the night. You understand that, don’t you, darling?” The softness of his question touches you deeply, and you can only nod, overwhelmed by the emotion that overwhelms you.

Sunghoon, watching this scene with palpable tenderness, takes your hand delicately. He brings it to his lips, placing kisses on it that seem to carry all his affection. His eyes sink into yours, and you feel an unwavering connection forming between you. “You are so precious to us,” he says, his voice trembling slightly under the weight of his emotions. “I could never imagine a world without you. Your presence lights up our lives in ways you can’t even understand.”

Tears begin to well up in your eyes, and you’re aware of the wave of emotion that’s washing over you. “You’re my everything…” he continues, his voice growing more intense, almost desperate. “I don’t want that to change. I want every day to be a celebration of who we are together.” He traces invisible words into your palm, promises whispered in the privacy of this moment. “I love you deeply, and it only grows with each moment we share.”

As the intensity of the moment builds, Jay, unable to stay away, stands up and kneels in front of you, his hands sliding delicately up and down your legs. “Listen to me, sweet doll,” he begins, his voice filled with tenderness and determination. “I don’t just want you to be mine. I want you to be a part of me. I want you to carry my name and for us to build something beautiful together.” His eyes shine with an untamed passion, and you can almost feel the weight of his dreams and desires.

“Without you, I would be lost,” he continues, his voice growing more intense. “I imagine you in my life, in my arms, and it fills me with indescribable joy. I want to see your smile every day, hear your laugh, and share every moment with you. I couldn’t live a single day without you.” The intensity of his words touches you deeply, and you feel tears of joy running down your cheeks as you realize how connected you are.

Tears slowly fall down your cheeks as you sniffle, overwhelmed by the beauty of this unique bond. “I love you too, all four of you…” your voice trembles as you manage to articulate the words, loaded with immense meaning. “I’m so happy that my story ends with you.” The feeling of belonging is almost palpable, a warm, soft sensation that envelops you. “I would never have wanted it any other way. It’s you and me, forever.” Your smile emerges shyly, but it’s genuine, radiating pure happiness.

Jake, touched by your words, leans down to place a soft kiss on your lips. “You and me, hand in hand, until the end of time,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice soft and reassuring. Pulling back slightly, a tear slips from his eye, but his radiant smile lights up the room, a light of hope and love.

Sunghoon turns your face to his, and in that suspended moment, he presses his lips against yours. The softness of that kiss makes you shiver, and you know that every gesture, every caress, is loaded with promise and affection. “The end of our story ends with you,” he murmurs, his voice soft but determined. “I’m ready to do anything to make you happy. Every day, I want to prove to you how much you mean to us.” He rests his head against yours, and the light touch fills you with a comforting warmth.

Laughter and soft whispers float through the air, each glance you share strengthening your connection. You feel incredibly lucky to be surrounded by these loving souls, knowing that you are bound by a love that transcends time and space. Each shared moment becomes a promise of a bright future, and you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you will overcome them together.

In the embrace of your emotions, you understand that your story is just beginning. The laughter, tears and love you share are the foundations of a life full of promises, dreams and memories to build together. In this bubble of happiness, you eagerly anticipate the future that awaits you, each moment being a new adventure to live together.

“No matter what happens, I’ll be there for you,” you promise, your heart overflowing with emotion. “We’re a team, and nothing can tear us apart.” The boys draw closer, forming a circle of love and support around you, and you know that this is the beginning of a beautiful adventure, that of a shared life, filled with tenderness and happiness.

©️devotedlypinkpeanut,do not copy, translate or repost any of my works.

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Second Chance Sorcerer Chapter 2 - A Message

Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader

A/N: Chapter 2 is here! So we come to the world of the living where reader is grieving Nanami's death. Reader-centric chapter, but Nanami is brought up heavily. Originally made with my OC, to read that version, check out my AO3 account, but it's in Y/n format here.

Banner by the lovely @actuallysaiyan

Search/follow along using #secondchancesorcerer

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Nanami masterlist

There’s an incessant knocking at the door and it takes all of your energy to not scream at whoever it is to go away. You felt like someone had hit you with a sledgehammer, your sleep disturbed and restless. Why was everyone so determined to give you company when all you wanted to do was be left alone?

No one understood the hollow feeling in your chest, how you woke up every night screaming, remembering Mahito’s disgusting grin of triumph as he had murdered Nanami in cold blood. How you had begged Nanami to let you take him out of Shibuya station along with Maki, the burns on his body looking so raw and painful. He had fixed you with the same look he would give you when you were hesitating to take a shot at him during hand-to-hand combat training sessions. That stern expression of disapproval, despite his own pain and exhaustion.

“Take Maki-san and leave. I’ll be fine Y/n-san. I can’t leave. Not yet.” And you had been helpless to argue against him. You never could. There was a hypnotic quality to the way Nanami instructed you, said with a finality that you could never disobey. The man had a death wish, you knew that, and you had foolishly believed securing him with a protective charm would drive away the shadow of demise that seemed to hover over him all the time. You should have knocked him unconscious and dragged his ass out with Maki. Shoko was on site. She could have healed him, and he would be here, grieving their other losses instead of…

Your heart constricted painfully, remembering how you had held onto Yuji as hard as you could, your ears bleeding from his hysterical screaming as he swore his revenge on Mahito. Nanami’s loss hung heavily in the air. Although most of the Jujutsu community was more invested in Gojo being sealed, it was Nanami’s death that affected you the most. Nanami your mentor, your dour, unwilling mission partner, your whole heart…now gone. Like he had never existed, no trace of him left. 

“Y/n-san?” The knocking continues and with a snarl, you roll off the bed, your hair a dreadful mess, not caring that you’re still in pajamas, and yank open the door, only to see Ino and Yuji standing there, Yuji carrying a takeout container. Your ire washes away only to be replaced by a dull ache as you see them. “Oh. it’s you two.” You slink back to the bed and disappear under the covers.

“We haven’t seen you for two days now Y/n-san.” Ino shuts the door as Yuji sets the takeout container on the table. “You can’t just lock yourself away. We’re a team. Team Nanami, remember?” Ino gives you a wan smile which you don’t have the energy to return. Yuji settles down on a chair and says nothing.

Your heart aches for the boy, so young, a teenager, looking so weary and serious, shouldering the weight of a much older man. “I haven’t been in a mood to see anyone. Everything that happened at Shibuya…I can’t.”

Your voice trembles, threatening to spill out all the unspent grief you’re carrying. You hadn't explicitly told anyone about your feelings for Nanami, believing it was pointless. You were his apprentice after all, a title almost similar to being his student, and it was a boundary you hadn’t been willing to cross. Nanami had helped craft your abilities after all, abilities you had been terrified of using, abilities that had plagued your entire life, that you wished you hadn’t been born with; until he had shown you how to use them for a higher purpose. 

It was an astonishing experience, developing a cursed technique, needing much hands-on instruction. Literally. Nanami would constantly adjust your hands, your stance, and your combat positions, tutting at you impatiently. You had felt like you were in a ballet academy under the care of a rigorous instructor, the type that would raise their student’s arms and chin and adjust their posture using the end of a cane.

He had started you off the same way that Gojo had done for Yuji, by channeling cursed energy into one of Principal Yaga’s creepy cursed dolls. The doll had given you a black eye that day, but you secretly blamed Nanami for that; you had been watching movies as instructed, the doll in your lap when he had come down to check on you. His deep gravelly voice cutting through the room unexpectedly had caused you to yelp, grip loosening on the doll, which had wasted no time in delivering a blow to your eye. 

It was humiliating, feeling like you had failed him on this simple task but he made you nervous. He always gave off an aura of needing perfection and his short, clipped way of giving instruction made you feel inadequate. Everything had been a blur of confusion as you leaned against the sofa, covering your eye and moaning in pain, hearing rapid shuffling footsteps, before Nanami had caught hold of the doll and shoved it into a containment box.

“Let me see.” With your good eye, you saw him leaning over you to check your face. You knew you were blushing but hoped it came off as embarrassment for being punched by the doll rather than the fact that your mentor - your unbelievably attractive mentor- was peering into your face at such close proximity. 

You had slowly removed your hand, the area around the eye swollen and tender. Nanami’s expression was strange, almost like he was trying not to laugh as he delicately laid his fingers at the edges of the starting bruise. “I did warn you not to lose concentration,” he said in an even tone, although it betrayed a wisp of amusement. “Go see Ieiri-San. I’m afraid you’ll be sporting a bruise for a while, but her reverse curse technique will take away the pain so at least you won’t feel it.” 

Your good eye had glared at him reproachfully. “I was doing fine until you startled me. I didn’t even hear you come in. We should put a bell around your neck.”

You thought you saw the corners of his mouth twitch slightly, almost like he was biting back the urge to smile. “Are you under the impression that curses wear bells around their necks, Y/n-San? Because if this is all it takes to startle you…you wouldn’t last a minute on a solo mission.”

His words had brought you back to the reality of the situation, the fuzzy feeling of being near him vanishing in an instant. Always teaching survival tactics, always telling you to run, always putting himself in the line of fire. It had driven you insane, how little self-preservation he had for himself. 

“Isn’t there anything that you would like to live for?” You had asked him one morning as you ate breakfast together before catching the train home, having finished a mission the previous night. He fixed you with a scrutinizing stare, whiskey-colored eyes narrowing as though puzzled by your question. 

“Like what?”

His response left you stumped. Did the man have no aspirations, no dreams, or wishes he wanted to be fulfilled? 

“Like what?” You had parroted back to him, an incredulous look on your face. “There are so many wonderful things about life! Don’t you have a survival bucket list?”

His lip was definitely curling now. Nanami never smiled completely, but the corners of his eyes would crinkle when something amused him, and you could see the lines deepening as he regarded your question, but his tone felt like an adult indulging a child. It was maddeningly patronizing, considering he was just three years older than you, yet he assumed himself to be too mature and aged for such whimsical questions. 

“A survival bucket list?” he practically scoffed. 

“Yes,” you said trying not to lose your patience with him, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, a list of things you’d like to do if you ever had the time.”

“Do you have one?”

“Of course I have one! Most of us have one! Something to keep us going when all we see is death and destruction on a daily basis.”

The thought seemed to intrigue him but you couldn’t shake off the feeling like you were being snubbed. Which was why you were taken aback when he asked, “What’s on your survival bucket list?”

“Oh ah…” you tried to gather your thoughts as you spoke, not expecting that he would ask you. “Take a tour of Europe. Go on an African safari. Take scuba diving lessons. Try different pastries and sweets from all over the world.” You lists some of your top activities, then frown as Nanami in a rare moment, flashes you a grin, his teeth showing for a brief second before his face returns to its usual stoic state. 

“What?” You had asked almost impatiently. “Is my bucket list funny in some way?”

The blond man shakes his head no before speaking. “It’s not funny at all Y/n-san. I think it’s nice that you have these personal goals.” He says calmly, his voice carrying an unfamiliar lilt you had never heard before. 

Your irritation died down when you realized he hadn’t answered you yet. “Do you have one or not?” 

He looked thoughtfully at you before replying. “I used to. But it’s not as great as wanting to learn how to scuba dive or trying all the sweets in the world.” His tone changed into something wistful and nostalgic and it played with your heartstrings as you waited for him to continue. “My survival bucket list, if I can call it that, has only one goal. And that is to live long enough to retire.”

Your breath had caught and you waited for him to say more, hoping he wouldn’t shut off. Nanami rarely ever spoke more than what was necessary, but you longed to see more of this side of him, the parts of him that had nothing to do with sorcery. 

“Retirement isn’t something a lot of sorcerers get to experience. Most of them die young, and the ones that do survive have so many disabilities that doing anything later in life becomes impossible. If life is favorable to me, and I have all my limbs and mental health by that age, I would love to retire and spend the rest of my days in peace.”

“What does peace look like to you?” you had asked him in a hushed voice, feeling ecstatic about finding out these little details about him. 

“A beach, in a country with a low cost of living. Perhaps I’ll live right on the sand, a book in hand, and just take in all the sunshine.” His eyes had taken on a faraway quality, the whiskey color becoming more honeyed, little flecks of gold visible in his irises as though whatever he was thinking of had lit a candle inside him, illuminating his whole being. You could only stare, unable to comprehend how beautiful, how vulnerably human, he looked in that fleeting moment before it vanished behind an impenetrable curtain of indifference. “But that future is a very slim possibility. I don’t like building castles of air.”

The warmth that had settled in your chest dissipated, and you were left with the man you had grown used to; contained, jaded, pessimistic. 

“But what if it does happen?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking. 

He let out a sound that could have been interpreted as a disbelieving chuckle. “Then I’d better think about using something more solid than air to build my castle.”

“Y/n-san?”

You’re jolted back to reality as Yuji hands you a tissue. You hadn’t even been aware that you were crying, tears rolling down your cheeks, eyes puffy and red.

“I’m sorry guys.” You dabbed at the tears. “Got lost in thought.”

“We all miss him, Y/n-san,” Yuji says comfortingly, but his voice trembles. “He was more than a teacher to all of us.” 

“And we’re still a team despite him being gone,” Ino says assertively and presses the takeout container into your hands. “Eat. You need to.”

You open it to reveal a breakfast sandwich, and although you don’t have much of an appetite, the thoughtfulness of the boys is so sweet that you don’t feel like setting it aside for later. Taking a bite, you try to distract yourself from your own feelings.

“So they weren’t able to recover Gojo from the prison realm?” you ask, trying to get off the topic of their deceased mentor. 

Ino shakes his head no, and you are relieved to see that most of his wounds from his fight with Ogami have healed, almost imperceptible to the eyes of a non-sorcerer, although there was a scar running down the left side of his face now.

“They’re doing a recovery throughout Shibuya station, but it’s mostly to pull items belonging to the people who died. You know, to return to their families.” Ino sighs and rests against the wall of your room. “They haven’t found Nanami-san’s blade yet.”

This bit of information is unexpected, and you look at him, then at Yuji who is also listening intently. 

“I mean…it probably got lost underneath all the rubble, right? It’ll turn up eventually.” You swallow, hoping the weapon wasn’t lost to the destruction of Shibuya Station. 

“I hope so. I’d imagine Nanami-san would want me to have it.” Ino sits down on the edge of your bed. Yuji however, gives him a look of disapproval. 

“Why do you get Nanamin’s weapon? I was his student too.”

“Yeah, but I trained under him the longest. By that right, it should come to me.”

“What if he has family? Wouldn’t it go them?” Yuji countered, trying to think of a reasonable argument for why Ino couldn’t simply lay claim to the blade.

“He didn’t have any family,” you say quietly, not really invested in the conversation. Ino and Yuji continued to debate, their conversation becoming indistinct buzzing to you as you finished your sandwich. 

“He was your teacher too Y/n-san,” Ino interjects suddenly, with a touch of surprise. “Why aren’t you more interested in who his blade goes to?”

“Because I knew how much he hated using it.”

Your words carry an intensity that makes them both quiet down instantly. As powerful and wonderful as his blade was, you knew your mentor’s distaste for using it. To him, it was a means to an end, no different than using a rifle or an axe. He used it for the sake of exorcising curses, but the blade itself carried no personal meaning to him. 

“Nanamin hated his blade?” Yuji asks in a small voice. The disappointment in his eyes had you quickly backpedaling.

“Not the blade itself. I think more so, what it represented for him. A life as a sorcerer. Of facing death every day, knowing this was his duty and he couldn’t escape it.”

Silence follows your words and you wish you hadn’t spoken. You hadn’t meant to put a damper on the boys’ spirits but you couldn't keep quiet either. They were young, in awe of their late teacher who must’ve seemed like a much older man, dispensing wisdom. But knowing how small your age gap was, and how much he hated this line of work, you found yourself compelled to make sure they knew what you knew; that Nanami Kento was a hard-working man, but he never found any joy in using his now legendary weapon at all. 

And unknown to them, you had already scavenged Shibuya Station after the emergency evacuation orders were put through. You hadn’t expected to find much, but somehow, through a stroke of luck, had found his tie, the obnoxiously yellow, polka-dotted tie, peeking through the broken cement and glass, stained with blood. His blood. 

You had yanked it out quickly and stuffed it into your pocket, a little secret you had been carrying around the last few days. It now lay under your pillow; you worried people would judge you for keeping it, for not washing it but somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. At night, you’d run the tie through your fingers, feeling the material slip smoothly through, the faint scent of his cologne still on it. You knew you would never be able to wash it until the last vestiges of that scent faded away. It was the only thing that brought you comfort, that and remembering the day you found out the history of the odd color and print of the tie.

The 4 four of you had been out at the amusement park, Ino and Yuji energetically running around from one ride to the next while you and Nanami had waited in line to grab food for everyone. As you sat waiting for the boys to come back, you had gathered courage and asked him a question that had been in the back of your mind since you became his apprentice.

“Nanami-san?”

“Hmm?” He had turned his focus towards you and you hoped he wouldn’t see the rising color in your cheeks. 

“Why do you wear that tie? It just doesn’t match the rest of your outfit.” You held you breath hoping the question wasn’t too personal. But the tie somehow paradoxically brought his outfit together and also threw it out of style. 

His expression had changed almost imperceptibly. If you hadn’t spent as much time as you did with him, you might not have noticed it. He rested his elbows on the picnic table, as though conflicted to admit what was going through his mind. Then with a sigh, he said, “It’s to remember an old friend.”

“An old friend?”

“A late friend, to be precise.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. A late friend? He had lost someone close to him? 

“It’s a funny story.” Nanami paused as though considering if he should tell you more, then continued. “My favorite show growing up as a child was The Flintstones.” 

You stared at him, but you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped you which you suppressed immediately. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to say something like that.”

“Well, it was.” Nanami’s lips had twitched. “And my friend knew this. As a joke, he got me a tie that matched Fred Flintstone’s outfit.” Another pause, another sigh, as though the next part was difficult for him to say. “I never wore it until after his death. Now I always do, in remembrance.”

“I’m so sorry,” you had said in a low voice. “I didn’t mean to bring up such a sad memory for you.”

Nanami shook his head and looked away towards the Ferris wheel, where the boys had disappeared off to. “It was a while ago. I try not to dwell on it for too long.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you’d murmured. His face had softened as he looked at you, the rest of the world blurring from your vision until all that remained in focus was him, the sharp eyes, the high cheekbones, the straight nose, and the chiseled jawline. Barely 30, yet looking like even a few years of sleep wouldn’t wash away the exhaustion that emanated from his bones. 

“Even if Nanami-san disliked his weapon, it’s still useful to have.” Ino and Yuji were back to debating about the blade. 

You were about to reiterate that you wouldn’t fight them over the blade when suddenly a pale sea foam green light began to glow from underneath your pillow. Both the boys stop bickering, awestruck at the sight. With a trembling hand, you move the pillow, revealing the tie, and making Ino and Yuji draw closer in curiosity. The polka dots on the blood-stained tie were glowing, emanating a warm aura accompanied by a curious scent of lingering coffee.

“What…” You watch with fascination, then look up at Yuji and Ino, who are watching the scene unfold, wide-eyed and filled with wonderment.

“Is that Nanamin’s tie?” Yuji gets closer to the bed, unable to take his eyes away.

“Yeah…I’ve been holding onto it.”

“Is it cursed? Did Nanami-san leave some residual cursed energy when he…?” Ino eyes the tie warily but also speaks in a hushed tone of disbelief. 

You shake your head, the aura not feeling sinister to you. Rather, it felt familiar, like you had experienced it before, in those brief moments when Nanami’s eyes would crinkle from amusement…

You gasp and scramble off the bed as the dots begin to lift off the tie, a vignette of sea foam green surrounding each one. They float ethereally in the air, then, one by one start floating out of your room. 

“Wait!” Not caring that you’re in pajamas or that you’d been in bed for nearly two days, you chase after the dots, bolting out of the room barefoot, Ino and Yuji hot on your heels. People stared at you as you ran. You knew the group must look quite eccentric, the two boys fully clothed and decent looking, while you looked ratty and deranged, hair flying everywhere as you tracked the dots barefoot, not wanting to lose sight of them. 

Finally, the dots make their way into the large courtyard where Nanami would brief you about upcoming missions. They slow down and the trio halts, panting and out of breath. The light surrounding the polka dots brightens before they start arranging themselves into a fixed pattern, you, Ino, and Yuji watching perplexedly.

“Fred Flintstone”

“What?” Yuji looks bewildered. “Who’s that?”

“Isn’t that a cartoon character?” Ino asks, his generation just shy of the classic cartoons millennials had grown up on. 

You cover your mouth, trying not to jump to conclusions. “The Flintstones…”

Could it be? Was he…? You let out a strangled laugh of disbelief but yet, what else could it be?

“It’s Nanami-san!” you whisper, and as you do, the energy signature from the polka dots seems to envelop you, and you feel every small little detail you have ever memorized about him; the little marks that formed on the bridge of his nose when he took his glasses off after a mission, how he enjoyed a fresh pot of coffee in the morning, that little sigh of satisfaction he’d make after completing his daily crossword puzzle. 

Yuji and Ino look at you incredulously, but you have never been more sure of anything in your life. You look at them in the face, tears in your eyes, not from grief, but at how achingly comforting it was to be bathed in the glow of those polka dots. 

“Nanami-san is alive!” 

Animated lines and support banner by @cafekitsune

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[phantomchick]

The ending of Oshi no Ko vs The beginning (chapter 166 vs 10)

So as you can see, there's clear evidence of intentional parallels happening here. This is the aftermath of Ai's death that mirrors the aftermath of Aqua's. Aka already claimed to have the ending planned well in advance months ago so it's not a big surprise that even the ending panels of the first (not counting the prologue) and last chapters match.

And yet Oshi no Ko still falls flat despite fulfilling its promise of a revenge-tragedy.

I think the biggest problem it has is the way the last chapter tells us instead of shows us as chapter 10 did.

Yes chapter 10 also used narrative text boxes a lot, but I argue that the effect then was much more immersive.

With them being used with precision to move us through a time skip with only the most necessary information about the fall out for the characters, even the distance had the effect of doing characterisation work with Aqua describing in a narrative text box how the policemen hid the scene from Ruby but Aqua felt his mother's body going cold beneath him as they arrived - this use of the text boxes casual tone over child Aqua sitting in his dead mother's lap gave a sense of disassociation and shock to the scene.

Even the textboxes turning black to mirror Aqua's dark emotions concerning his revenge as the star in his eye turned black showed how much attention was being paid to their use.

Ruby.

Ruby felt much more real in chapter 10, her rant about the internet's callous response to Ai's murder felt real and emotionally charged. In comparison, for all she's the main subject of the last chapter, she feels like a 2d cut out of herself, barely in there for all we see her struggling through Akane's observant gaze.

She expresses her motivation to be an idol despite hardship by acknowledging that Aqua's right about idolwork being difficult and cruel but reminding him that despite the darkside of the entertainment industry, their mother 'shone' very brightly. The talk about how Ruby shines more the darker things get and how this is a good thing because it reaches out to people trapped in darkness of their own (just like her when she was a terminally ill cancer patient) is clearly meant to echo this idea.

Frankly it fails.

Ruby feels hollow.

To the point where we barely get any insight into Ruby's real feelings at all or any emotional connection with her in comparison, by 166 it's genuinely unclear whether or not she's lying even to the portrait of her dead family when she's 'alone' on her way out the door.

We don't see a conversation between her and her adoptive mother about Aqua, we don't see her talking to Akane at all. We see her grief and her success from a deified distance, just like the fans do. And it alienates us from the character.

Lies are love and she has two stars in her eyes. Just like her mother did.

I think this more than anything condemns the idol industry, she has to keep lying even to herself about her job being fun because otherwise what was all that pain and suffering and loss for?

Aqua died in a murder-suicide (shout out to Taiki for experiencing a loved one doing this twice, poor guy) to give his little sister success in a job that she has to get up at 5.30 for, devote her entire youth to and will have to quit in less than a decade. It has to matter, that she provides escapism for people who are suffering like she did, but it doesn't change the grim reality of her exploitation.

I think the lack of dialogue in the final chapter and the loss of voice for Ruby in the last few arcs mirrors the loss of agency she experiences as she becomes the ultimate idol, everyone's star.

But that doesn't change the fact that from a reader perspective it's just bad writing. Aka failed to carry his audience with him to the finish line and his messages about the idol industry were blurred by the rushed plot after the movie arc began.

If it weren't for Mengo's art hard carrying the clumsily executed story, I can honestly say that I don't think many would have read this manga all the way to the end.

[thatdepressedtwink]

Bill was probably considered disabled or blind in the 2nd dimension… think about it. Assuming Bill can’t see from side to side as his eye position was smack dab at the centre of his body looking up into the 3rd dimension with 2D vision. Meaning nobody in his world could see his eye for the nature of its position, they would assume he’s just an eyeless person.

Let me explain this with shitty visual examples:

Alright! So we got Bill, eye in the centre looking up into the unkown, and some rando with eyes on his side. They’re both in the 2D plane, so let’s see what rando sees.

This is a terrible artist rendition but this is what rando sees in his perspective, (doesn’t necessarily have to be horizontal, could be vertical) but omit the white lines - that was just to show how flat his world is. As a 2D being, he sees 1 dimensionally.

You can try the same thing, if you take a thin piece of paper - imagine there’s a little stickman of some kind looking at his side - you can lower your head to look at the paper from its side. And you’ll see a flat sheet of paper, like a line, there you are seeing from the stickman’s perspective. Victorian satire book named Flatland describes this pretty well with explained depth perception (not seeing, perceiving) and social customs.

It’s also why we can’t see in 3D but 2D, yes we can perceive depth but that is a trained ability, close one eye and it’s no different than your usual vision aside from depth perception. That’s why when you look at a 2D screen you can see your 3D world normally. A 4D being would be able to see in 3D though, but I digress.

Let’s say another 2D being is looking at this rando, what’s it look like from their perspective?

Probably something like this.

It’s probably not entirely accurate, the inner workings of a 2D creatures perspective I don’t know but this is about what it be like looking at rando in 2D. The red his body, the red pupil his eye.

Great, now let’s see what Bill Cipher looks like to average flatland citizen (the yellow being Bill):

Oh uh. Okay.

No eye, what a freak am I right? Yeah, with no eye on the side it’s likely they thought he was born without any at all.

It’s also very possible that Bill couldn’t see anyone in his world too, but I don’t think that’s Hirsch’s intention so I leave it at that.

No wonder, everyone tells you you’re blind, you’re eyeless, that you can’t see, but you can see. Into a higher dimension - the 3rd dimension, with your 2D vision. Did it look beautiful? Was the sky shimmering with stars, infinite possibilities and opportunity? When did you realise you were never blind at all? When did you realise you were seeing the inconceivable? But unable to touch it, did the 3D world beckon you? You felt special, maybe you were desperate for it.

Teasing and abuse consuming you whole till it was the only thing on your mind, you saw more, something more than them, than yourself you have to show them more. Was it on the basis of revenge? Spite? Inspiration? Good intentions or ill will? The first time he saw the faces of his family, was it because he recognised their screams? When you wipe out a dimension you don’t just kill a world you destroy a universe, you erased planets, you drowned out your stars, there’s nothing left to call home now. No matter where you go you’ll be an alien, an alien without a home planet is only a thing. Was it worth it?

It’s a big if to say that Bill was blind in his 2D world. While I don’t think Bill would be able side to side and see his family, friends, members of his community, etc I also don’t think his appearance/biology makes sense for a 2D being so I don’t think it matters. But if they were going for as much realism, this 2D guy should look like a hollow triangle full of hollowed intestines, a brain and an eye, a mouth that functions as both eating function and the waste function. It’d be like being able to see through a human. As a 2D being there is no depth, so why is there an inside guts and an outside skin thing he was when we look at him from our 3D world? We’d see his insides but his 2D friends would only be able to see his skin, like how we do our friends too.

Anyway, that was a useless explanation, just thought it’d be interesting to explain. I really like learning about theoretical higher dimensions and possible life forms.