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devotedlypinkpeanut · 2 months ago

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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

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⤑ 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.

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buckingham-ashtray · 5 months ago

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When Alzheimer’s has eventually taken its hold, you can ask John what’s his name and he will not be able to remember even that, but he will smile and tell you “find Sherlock, he knows everything”.

Yes, but being that this is the only thing he can remember, in turn he has forgotten as well that Sherlock has long passed.

#I want to say I'm sorry about this but let's face it. I'm really not.#did it hurt you? torn your insides? yes? Good.#this has tormented me for every second of the past few days so I'm dragging as many as I can down with me :D #some wonderful fic writer out there should write a 20k heart wrenching ff of how johnlock grew old together told from rosie's pov #open with an obscene amount of fluff with those two absolutely smitten with each other #and then boom Alzheimer's happened thus angst takes place then followed by sherlock's death then this and john's eventual death and SCENE!#(yes I have the whole thing planned out but writing skills and indolence are leash on the horse #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #johnlock #johnlock headcanon #johnlock angst #angst #angst with a they-both-died-and-it-didn't-even-happen-together ending #tjlc #my headcanons #my bs #buckingham-ashtray

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sleeplesssmoll · 10 months ago

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Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: 重返未来：1999 | Reverse: 1999 (Video Game) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sonetto/Vertin (Reverse: 1999) Characters: Vertin (Reverse: 1999), Sonetto (Reverse: 1999) Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff Summary:

Vertin struggles with the internal conflict between her Timekeeper persona and her desires. Then the source of her conflicts visits her in the middle of the night. Vertin tries to put aside her feelings to help a spooked Sonetto. Meanwhile, Sonetto embraces the feelings she has toward Vertin.

(This is a lot of fluff. Sonetto will always be puppy. Vertin is more of a cheeky Carbuncle.)

#reverse 1999 #tk14 #sonetto #vertin #Obscene amounts of fluff #help #i just want them to be happy #Vertin still sucks at hw #sonetto is sheltered puppy

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sugutiva · 2 months ago

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ᥫ᭡. synopsis : overstimulation with gojo has him unexpectedly proposing to you.

tags : smut, p in v, overstimulation, belly bulge, marking ( scratching & hickeys), slight edging, fluff at the end..?, cursing, dirty talk, all lowercase intended, not proofread !

a/n : the long awaited gojo drabble 🌚!

“ nahhh, don’t do that,” satoru tuts disapprovingly, above your cock-drunk state, while having your body folded in the most meanest mating press. his hand presses down on your stomach bulging with his dick print, making you sensitively aware of every inch of him ruthlessly thrusting into you— although your beyond fucked out at this point. “ keep those pretty eyes on me, baby.”

he can’t control how his dick twitches inside of you at your submissive situation. you look past breathtaking, staying compliant as you let him have his way with you for the nth time this night. you’re so fucking tight— satoru can’t tell if he’s being dramatic or if you’re trying to cut off all circulation from his lower body.

you cry, gripping at his muscled back desperately as you feel the bulbous head of his cock make out with your cervix sweetly. “ satoru— you’re so b-big, fuck! can’t take it n’more. . .”

“ ngh, y-yeah?” he’s cut off from his own sentence when he thrusts further into you, his cock mapping out every inch and beyond of your suffocating heat.

“ can’t take it? i can’t tell from how yer’ greedy pussy is cryin’ for more of me,” clouded cerulean eyes travels back down to your belly, and how his hefty size noticeably protrudes from within your inner walls.

his calloused hand that’s already displayed on the bulge creeps down lower, where he rolls enthusiastic, tight circles on your already cum-covered clit, from the previous rounds. “ hmm, let your pussy do the talking from now on, since she’s the only one telling me the truth,” he sharply grins to himself, watching your accommodating body react to the sudden stimulation, before it’s washed away with a hungry mewl from his lips as your cunt impossibly invites him in deeper.

the environment in your shared bedroom was lustfully humid, and filled with the obscene sounds of skin on skin slapping, and combined seductive moans like a melody. despite your weakened state from the previous onslaught of orgasms before— your mouth waters with dangerous anticipation. achingly, longing for another sweet release of the night.

satoru’s vision shifts to the frothy ring of your joint releases, clinging around the base of his cock alluringly. “ shit baby, i was g’na propose to you first, but it seems you’re pussy beat me to it, heh.” he knew you were going to ignore his drunken secret-confession, given that every time he’s overstimulated, he always makes childish promises to marry your pussy as he fucks himself into you near the brink of unconsciousness. but you don’t have a clue of how serious he is right now.

your effort to hold onto him evident as the skin on his back is painted a burning red as a result of your harsh scraping. you feel his muscles twitch under your nails as you inflict light, cat like scratches beautifully down his back.

“ s-shit,” his hips stutters while his lips suck drastic hickeys on the expanse of your neck— marks that scream his name, scream that you’re all his. “ marry me, marry me p-please,” the thumb on your clit speeds as if he’s focusing his impatient anticipation on your puffy clit.

“ you’re not s-serious,” you whine underneath him, raking your nails deeper into his skin and following the dipping curve of his back. “ jus’ saying it cause you’re pussydrunk, toru,”

“ fuck— ‘m not, s-swear. have the ring picked out, suits you the best,” his feverish kisses return back to your mouth. your orgasm is so close, tightening and building up as your pussy is past the point of broken right now.

your orgasm is so close, you can taste it. one more rock of his hips will surely have you leaking around his imposing length— except, it doesn’t come right away. the delay in pleasure has you glaring at satoru, and him staring right back, all traces of playfulness gone. “ i won’t let you cum until you say you’ll marry me.

you blink, “ are you serious right now, satoru?”

“ dead.” he replies back, quick.

satoru is a spoiled asshole, holding your orgasm over your head until you comply to his stupid proposal that he asks every fuck.

“ i don’t b-believe you right now, you always say that dumb shit when y’re gonna cum,” you try to wiggle your hips for some indication of the excitement from before, but with your straining position and the obvious size difference, it does no avail.

“ well, believe me now ‘cause i’m serious,” the weight of his eyes and words discreetly has you shifting away from him, but nothing goes undetected in the stupid god-like eyes of satoru as he pulls your body back down and presses on the outline of his dick making itself known on your stomach. “ i belong to you, and you belong to me. so why no—“

“ fuck! i fucking do, satoru, just fuck me already!” you cut him off with a shriek, the feeling of your orgasm slipping further from you is absolute torture. nonetheless, he grins, all traces of playfulness coming back while his hips greedily wind up again.

“ thought so baby,” he leans over to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss as the overwhelming sensation of your orgasm builds back up again. “ that didn’t take long at all. admit it, you wouldn’t know what to do without me or my dick, wifey.” satoru’s broad body envelopes your smaller one completely as he slots his entire being against you; finding a new pace to fuck you in recklessly.

“ toruuu, ‘m gonna cum t-toru! ‘s so good, all f’me!” your wall spasms around him, sucking him in and in— before you messily drench his cock in your salacious fluids. your moans grow silent as your draining orgasm flushes over your body. “ oh my— f-fuck,” your nails dig in the surrounding skin of his back when he doesn’t show signs of slowing down. even through his own orgasm, he still manages to deeply hump against your body under him. your combined cum starts to froth, sliding down his thighs and settling on the stained bedsheets.

in your shared aftermath it’s quiet. you enjoy the warmth of his body on top of yours as you come down from your high. you barely realize that he’s reaching over in the bedside drawer to grab the small box that contains the ring to put it on your finger, until you feel it.

“ . . .you were serious, huh?” you smile, stretching your fingers out, adjusting to the new look on your ring finger.

“ about you? always been.” he grabs your hand to kiss the ring.

#sugutiva.#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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luveline · 2 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬

Aaron sets the record straight when an overheard conversation convinces you that you’re not good enough for him. 5k

c: fem, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive theme (non-graphic implied sex scene). hotch is a good husband. requested here

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“Honey, this is Clint McMoore. We went to college together.”

You step into Aaron’s side. Clint McMoore is a handsome older man with silvering hair and a beard that looks out of control. His bowtie is loose around his neck, and his cheeks are blotchy with drink, but Clint smiles at you and offers his hand. “How do you do?” he asks.

“Quite well, thank you.” You’ve been practising fancy dinner talk with Aaron’s friend Emily for weeks. She has all the political background you’d needed to see yourself into the culture. “It’s nice to meet one of Aaron’s school friends.”

“While you still can,” Clint says with a chuckle. Something about being in your forties is obscene to these men, as though death waits for fifty candles to snuff them out.

“Clint and I were in the Student Theatre club together, our first year.”

You grin, smile laced with teasing. Each time you’re reminded of Aaron’s young interest in drama, you have to focus very hard on not laughing; the Aaron who has his hand to your shoulder isn’t one you could envision on stage. “Did you perform together?” you ask.

“Saturday Night Fever,” Clint says.

They laugh and reminisce. You find these sorts of events hard to keep up with, but you come when Aaron asks because he so rarely asks you for anything. He hasn’t mentioned knowing that you don’t like coming, But perhaps he hasn’t noticed —it’s not like you to frown, not when you’re with Aaron. The way he treats you, he probably thinks you’re the happiest girl in the world.

There’s a contentedness to be found when he touches you. He spreads a hand against your lower back and you let yourself sink into his side, curled into his embrace and amazed at the giggly laugh he lets out as Clint brings up the ‘King of the River’ tattoo Aaron has hidden beneath his shirt. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek.

Clint asks, “Isn’t that right?” and forces you back into the conversation.

You’re wearing a dress you panicked over for days. It’s black, cut playfully just above your knees with small petal sleeves. Your necklace is of a delicate chain and a not so delicate pearl —a black Tahitian South Sea pearl that glows pink and green in the light. For you, Aaron wrote, his pretty scrawl inky across a square of scalloped card from atop the box. I’m in love with you. Forgive me for not having the courage to tell you in person.

Your Aaron is quiet. Some days he comes home from work and doesn’t manage more than a sentence. Some days he can barely speak at all. But there are nights when he holds you to hold you and talks in murmurs against your ear, and he’s good at making calls when he’s away. Talking or not, smiling or otherwise, Aaron finds a way to let you know he loves you, and that’s all you care about.

“Excuse us,” Aaron says, giving Clint a rare, warm smile, “I’m being flagged by my boss.”

Sure enough, Erin Strauss is beckoning Aaron with a strange pained look.

“Nice to meet you,” you say quickly to Clint. He repeats your goodbye, and you and Aaron swerve around him.

“He was nice,” you murmur.

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

“How come you fell out of touch?”

“Oh, you know how things go, honey, you forget all the people you meet and make room for new ones.” He kisses your cheek. “And besides, he used to gossip like my mother. Why don’t you go find JJ?”

“You’ll be alright?”

“No, maybe not.” He squeezes your elbow quickly. “Go, find some hors d’oeuvres, at least.”

You find neither JJ nor finger foods. The gala you’re attending is being held in a hotel in the richest part of D.C, and the events hall is huge. The ceiling is a fantasy, glass and miles upward, overhead chandeliers dangling lower, dousing the crowds below in a light that’s clean. The rich and powerful gather at the edges of the room, though the performance toward the back of the room is watched by a few tens of couples with flutes of champagne held in gloved hands.

You hadn’t worn gloves. Hadn’t thought about it until you got here. Honestly, you felt grateful enough that JJ texted you to tell you to buy a shawl; if you weren’t wearing one you’re sure you’d feel bare.

What you’re lacking in fancy is made up for by your earnestness, or so you’d like to believe. You aren’t rich nor powerful, but Aaron’s a good man and you his good wife. You work hard, which is more than some of the richest in the room can say. You hold your head high without a second thought.

The hall is confusing. Tables are set but you aren’t sure Aaron said anything about a dinner service. Wait staff carry silver platters and hold bottles of champagne, but each time you approach one they seem to have already headed in another direction. JJ and Derek are both supposed to be here tonight, but you haven’t seen either of them since you arrived. You cast your gaze for Derek’s figure, searching for an easy gait and a strong set of shoulders. You cock your head waiting for a hint of JJ’s practised, polite laughter, but any familiar signs are gone. You can’t even find Aaron anymore, and your shoes are pinching your toes.

Disaster. You should’ve listened to Aaron when he told you to size up, just you doubted his knowledge of ladies shoes considering how rarely he wears them. Stupid man, you think to yourself, lovingly yet ruefully as you sit down at one of the uninhabited tables to the very side of the room. Knows everything. Tonight, you’ll limp back to the car and he won’t bother saying I told you so, he’s too good for it, which is worse. He’ll give you one of his amused smiles. He might offer you a massage.

Ridiculous man, you further to yourself, biting back a cheesy smile as you peel your shoe from a sore foot. If you shove your hand deep enough into the toe you can stretch them out a little.

“Darling.”

You look up. Clint McMoore’s resurfaced just a table away with his back to you. A sweet-faced woman with brown hair sits adjacent to him, her shoulder under Clint’s hand.

“You’ll never guess who I just bumped into,” he says.

Me, you think.

“Aaron Hotchner and his new wife.”

“You didn’t,” the woman says.

“I knew you’d be envious of that,” he laughs. “Charlotte, she’s unbelievable.”

Your stomach does a strange flip. He’ll say something nice, you insist, but you know his tone is a precursor for gossipy nonsense.

“I’ve never seen such a mismatched pair,” he says.

Charlotte rolls her eyes at him. “Well, what were you expecting? They were married after six months of knowing one another. I couldn’t so much as tolerate you until our first anniversary.”

“Hardy-har.”

“What’s wrong with her, then?” Charlotte asks.

“Nothing like that, Charlotte. She seemed perfectly pleasant–”

“But?”

“But, she’s nothing like Aaron’s usual woman.”

“Hm, I said as much when we saw their wedding photos.“ They both laugh. “It’s not like she had much of a chance. First Haley, and then that Beth, the designer, she’s in Milan now–”

“He seems rather besotted, in any case,” Clint says. “Very lady and the tramp.”

“Gentleman and the tramp.”

“Don’t be cruel, Charlotte.”

You know in a way that Charlotte is kidding, but you boil up with anger the moment you recognise what it is they’re implying. Then they laugh, and your anger quickly finds itself taking a crueller shape.

You slip your foot back into your shoe slowly. Your throat feels dry and then warm, like a crux of smouldering coal stuck in your windpipe as you stand, jerkily, hand stiff where it holds your weight on a silken tablecloth.

You blink and stare at the floor. It’s marble. It’s shot through with dark veins like a drop of ichor in water.

What the fuck?

You aren’t sure why you’re leaving the hall until you’re walking down the steps of the hotel and turning along the skirts of a hedge. A low brick wall lies in front of it, just short enough to sit on with your heels. Your coccyx stings with the force of how hard you go down.

Your head races with hurt feelings.

You’re not unaware of your husband’s past loves. It comes as no surprise to you that people regard Haley and Beth highly —Haley was extremely beautiful and veritably brave, intelligent, kind-hearted. Beth was funny, Aaron said, and not too much else. Being a designer in Milan hasn’t been mentioned before, but it’s impressive. They’re both impressive, and– and his usual woman.

You rub the starchy stockings stretched over your knees.

What had they meant by usual woman?

Mismatched?

It hadn’t felt mismatched when Aaron asked you to marry him. It wasn’t six months after knowing one another as Clint’s wife suggested, but it wasn’t much more than that. He proposed to you after eight months together, and you were married two months later, which is incredibly fast to some people but it just hadn't felt fast when he asked. It was exciting —it still is.

“Would you marry me, if I asked you to?” he’d said, some seven months after you’d agreed to be his girlfriend. Your head in his lap, his fingers rubbing at the soft skin of your nape. A sleepy Sunday morning like any other, you suppose that was a proposal in itself, but you hadn’t realised that when you murmured, “Yeah, handsome. I would.”

You thought it was just love. Making innocuous comments about the future is part of falling in love. It’s terrifying to tell someone that you’d like to live life in their lap, but you tell them, and they tell you to go ahead if you’re lucky.

He asked you to get married a few weeks later. “I had to talk to Jack,” he explained, “or I would’ve asked you then and there.“

You’re a wife suddenly, a step-mother, a partner. Aaron would’ve sold the house and bought you a new one if you wanted him to, but you like his life. You’ve always felt like you fit right in.

Angry again, you scrub at your knees with itchy palms and practise how you’re going to tell Aaron about his cruel friend. Gossipy was right, what a lark, and you’re not perfectly pleasant, you’re a delight, you hadn’t said one bad word to Clint and you didn’t deserve to be whipped and twisted into a bad joke between sips of Cristal.

Your eyes burn with the injustice of the thing.

Rawness overtakes. A thudding in your chest turns painful, neck wrought with tightness as you hang your head. Hiding from the cold air. November brings with it a promise of chapped lips the longer you stay there, biting into your thighs as your hands turn stiff with disuse.

She was unbelievable.

“Y/N!” The shout is sharp. You’ve never heard Aaron’s voice at that level or with that level of formidability, carrying from the bottom of the hotel stairs. You twist in shock on the wall and watch in real time as his face fills with relief. “Honey,” he says, calling but not half as scary as he jogs to you, “are you alright?”

“What?”

“You scared me,” he insists, bending down to hold your shoulders. “Nobody’s seen you for the last fifteen minutes, sweetheart, we talked about this. You can’t just disappear, you left your purse on the table, I thought something happened to you.”

You startle at his scolding. “I–”

“You should feel my heart.”

“I didn’t mean to come out here.”

“I wish you would’ve let somebody know,” he says. His frown softens slowly, but the concern around his eyes remains. “What?” he asks.

“Sorry.”

His eyes finally soften. “No, I’m sorry. It’s alright, I just worry when you’re not with me.”

“That’s romantic.”

He holds your cheek, pulling you in, and gives you two gentle kisses. Your lips part instinctively to receive them. “We’ll get our things and go home. It looks as though dinner isn’t happening.” He smiles. “Why were you out here?”

“Scavenging for food.”

That gets a laugh out of him, and another nice kiss. “You tried your best.”

—

Aaron takes you home, and when dinner’s been cleared away, when you’ve showered and he’s undressed, he pulls you toward the bed and kisses you warmly. His eyes track from your face to the tucked corner of your towel, a silent Can I?

You let him take it off. He lays you out, and for a while you’re only his. His wife, his half, his to tease and turn and delight. He says “Beautiful,” against your thigh, says, “Honey, is that okay?” says, “Please, I’ve got it, I have you, just let me have you…”

After, he tells you he loves you, his voice still ever so slightly high in contrast to usual dulcet tones.

“I love you, too,” you say.

His breath comes fast. Your lap is a mess he’d wiped as clean as he could manage, the memory of him bearing down on you yet to fade. He lies on his stomach beside you with his arm over yours, his face turned into you, his nose on your cheek.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. “You feel tense.”

“Mm.”

“No, did I hurt you? You’re rigid.” His hands fret a line down the side of your chest. “You didn’t…”

You hadn’t said anything, because he really hadn’t hurt you. But the thoughts you’re having now are intrusive —am I okay? you think. Do I measure up? He’s never made any indication that you’ve let him down, not in sex or anything else, but you’re unbelievable.

You swallow a lump. “Sorry,” you say, the lingering ebbs of pleasure twisting into tears faster than you can stop it.

“Are you crying?” he asks under his breath.

You suck in a breath as he pushes onto his hands.

“These aren’t good tears,” he says.

He’d know. They’re not.

Aaron reaches over you to turn on the lamp on the nightstand before settling, his hand cupping your waist. It’s too much suddenly, too bare, he’s too much to look at as you squeeze your eyes closed. “Sorry,” you squeeze out.

“What did I do?” he asks, holding you carefully. “Please, sweetheart, what’s hurting? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not you.”

“But something does hurt?”

“No, no, I’m okay.” You cover your face with your hands. When you start to sob, it shakes the entire mattress, Aaron’s hand wobbling where it cups your ribs.

“Please.” His thumb works a soft spot into your skin. “Honey, please, you can’t cry now without telling me what’s wrong.” He tries a laugh, but it falls flat. “Honey. Honey.”

It wasn’t the sex. He never does anything wrong, he’s so gentle even when he isn’t, and if he did you’d only have to tell him, but the rush of being touched by him so nicely, fuck, the way he’d been looking at you, the way he took your face into his hand as he moved —you’re not trying to be a crier, but he makes you feel like you’re everything and you’re just not.

He looks sick.

“It wasn’t you, it was at the gala,” you manage.

For a long while after, you can’t get a word out. You shiver and sob as Aaron scoops you into his chest, his nose in your shoulder waiting for you to calm down. He rubs your waist, fingers parted and waving slowly as he shushes you. Not to make you stop, though. He’s reassuring.

“What happened at the gala?” he asks quietly.

“It’s so stupid.”

“No, it’s alright. Can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?”

You wrap your arms around his head. It really is stupid, you feel smaller than an ant under the shadow of a giant heel. Aaron doesn’t waver when you struggle to answer, feeling around behind you for a pillow and helping you against it. He kisses your forehead. “Let me get you something to wear.”

You catch his wrist. “It wasn’t you, wasn’t–” You lift your chin.

He kisses you. “Okay,” he says simply. “Let’s get dressed.”

He dresses quickly, bringing you underwear and one of your sleep shirts, a loose fit. You shuffle into them and watch him patiently as he cleans the small mess of the evening away. You’re sniffling softly when he returns to you, sitting with his back to your thighs.

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry if I read things wrong. I never would’ve initiated anything if I knew you were feeling like this.”

You laugh weakly, worriedly, looking at him through your lashes. “It made me feel better,” you admit.

“If this is better, you must’ve been feeling awful.”

You relax as he puts his hand on your thigh.

“In the time I left you to talk to Strauss, something upset you. JJ and Morgan didn’t see you. So someone in the gala said something or did something that made you leave. If you tell me who it was, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“You’re trying to bargain with me,” you mumble.

“I’m just telling you what can be done. I can take care of things.”

“It’s nothing… nothing so severe. You’ll wonder why I–” You give an unexpected sob. “Made all this fuss.”

“I don’t think I’ll wonder,” he says.

You laugh through tears. These ones are slow, your eyes already itchy from crying.

“Please tell me.” He tries teasing instead of sternness, lowering his face to yours. “Or I’ll cry too.”

“Aaron.”

“I will. You think I can’t, but seeing you crying like this, it’s more than enough ammunition.”

You let out a breath, admitting defeat. “Your friend, Clint? I overheard him with his wife. He didn’t have very nice things to say about me.”

“What could he possibly have to say?” Aaron asks with a frown.

You pull the sheets up your legs. “He said I’m… unbelievable, and I don’t think he meant it kindly. Said that I’m not your type, and that I… I had no chance of measuring up, because of who you’ve been with before. They were laughing about our wedding photos.” Your throat feels pressed into by a hot poker. “They said we were the gentleman and the tramp.”

His eyes squint. He looks disgusted, and for an uncomfortable moment you feel like it might be directed at you, but then he scoffs. “What a crock of shit.”

“Aaron!” you laugh.

“What could Clint McMoore possibly know about marriage? This is his fourth wife. And to imply that you’re any sort of calibre below the women I’ve dated before isn’t just misogynistic nonsense, it’s not true. You are the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, and what’s that supposed to mean, gentlemen and the tramp?” He gives you such an earnest glare of confusion that you can’t for a second doubt what it is he’s saying. “I’m sorry, honey, I think he’s allowed himself a few too many nightcaps over the years. Perhaps he’s suffered a stroke.”

“Aaron, don’t say that,” you chide, secretly very pleased.

“Our wedding photos,” he says, his hand drifting further down your leg to rest just shy of somewhere more intimate, “are beautiful. You look beautiful. Clint would’ve writhed in jealousy in the pews if he’d been invited, because he would’ve seen it for himself.”

“I just sat there while they laughed at me,” you mumble.

“What were you supposed to do?” His hand travels out, to your hip, and then he holds you by the waist with both of his hands. They have a way of making you feel encapsulated, big and strong and careful on the bump of your hips.

“I don’t know.”

“Nothing,” he says, meeting your eyes with his usual tender-hearted compassion. “You weren’t supposed to do or say anything.” Aaron appears younger than he is for a second, his eyebrows raised, eyes big and brown as they track over your lips. “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he was like that. I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“I guess I’m just worried he’s right.”

“He’s not right. You are everything to me.” Again, he puts weight on the word, roughly said, like it takes a lot from him to say it. “I’m lucky to have been with women who were beautiful, and intelligent, but if there’s a question of you measuring up, there’s no competition. I’ve never been this in love.”

You take a shaky breath. “Never?” you ask.

He holds your gaze. “I knew it when we met. That's why I couldn’t wait to ask you to marry me.”

“You said you weren’t getting any younger.”

“Well, I’m not, but not everything’s about my age, you know,” he says, giving your waist a playful squeeze.

”You said it.”

“I did. That felt easier to say than, if I don’t marry you soon I might implode,” —he shuffles forward, encroaching on your legs and pressing his lips to your cheek— “would’ve just,” —he kisses your cheek, before turning your head— “wasted all that time waiting for someone else’s idea of the right time,” —and he kisses the other cheek, his nose skirting up your face— “wishing I was your husband when I could just,” —he smiles into your eyebrow as his hand slips under your shirt, holding your bare back— “ask.”

“I’m glad you asked me.”

You’d cried then, too, but it was less to do with a rush of adrenaline that knocked you out of balance and more to do with how lovingly he’d taken your hand as he asked. You knew from that moment on that someone was going to take care of you for the rest of your life. He’s doing it right now.

“I love you,” you say, forcing your arms over his shoulders.

He pulls you in so much that you lift from the mattress.

“I love you. Are you sure it wasn’t me that upset you? I have to check.”

“No. What you did to me wasn’t particularly upsetting.”

He laughs. “Are you sure? You can look a little teary–”

You shush him quickly.

He tips your head to the side to kiss your ear. “Maybe next time, you can tell me about whatever upset you beforehand.”

“And you can make me feel even better.”

His laugh is nearly inaudible, but his lips are by the side of your head. You hear it, the warmth of his breath kissing the shell of your ear.

—

Aaron likes to see you in your sweatpants. You look nice in everything, especially your dresses for the evening events he often drags you to, but he likes it when you wear sweatpants because it opens a window. You’ve purchased the wrong size, too big and too long, but you’ve tied them at the waist and you make do. You’re wearing the big shirt he helped you into the night before, sitting on the couch with your ferried breakfast.

The night before has been washed away, no sign of tears or upset. You have a clean, bright face, one he’d quite like to kiss, or hold, or have pressed to his neck, but none of this is unusual. Your eyes look sore, if he really looks. He’ll make you a compress after breakfast.

Dropped off by Jess an hour ago, Jack sits beside you picking at the breakfast tray. You’re sharing a plate. You don’t ever mind.

“Are you eating that one?” you ask.

Jack immediately nudges half of a chocolate chip pancake your way. “Was the gala fun?”

“Uh, sure. Saw your dad’s friends. But they had a weird thing with the caterers and we had to get dinner on the way home.”

“You could’ve made dad cook.”

“I guess, but we were tired. What did you have for dinner?”

“Jess made spicy chicken. It was amazing.” Jack squints at you. “Your eyes are puffy, Y/N. Are you sick?”

“I think I might be a little. Not enough to make you sick too, don’t worry.”

Aaron piles the last of the pancakes onto a plate and carries them to you in the living room. “Here, you two.”

“Did you eat?” you ask.

He loves you, bending over to kiss your forehead right in the middle. “Yes.”

“How come they didn’t have dinner at the gala, dad? I thought that was the whole point,” Jack says.

He sits down next to Jack on the couch. You cut a big square of pancake and grin at him, seemingly pleased with your breakfast and Jack’s sense of humour.

“It was a disaster, that’s all. No food, barely any wine, and terrible, awful company.”

“I thought Miss Jareau went?”

“She did. But besides her and a handful of others, it was a party for sad old people.”

“And you didn’t have fun?” Jack asks.

You laugh so hard tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Aaron cups Jack’s shoulder, surprised when his son doesn’t duck away from the touch. The older he gets the less affection he requires, so it’s nice for Aaron to hug him sideways and be allowed, better that you finish your choking laugh with a hug of your own. “Jack, thank you for that. I think you cured whatever illness I had,” you say.

“Hey,” Aaron says.

You run your hand up his neck. Your wedding ring catches against his jaw.

“It was worth going, though, to see your step-mom in her nice dress,” Aaron says, peeling away from Jack so he has room to breathe.

Jack turns to you, and his smile is audible, “Do you have any pictures?”

“I didn’t take any, sorry.”

“Just think of her now but in a dress, and that’s how beautiful she looked,” Aaron says.

“Dad, don’t be gross,” Jack says, cutting into the pancakes with his fork.

“It’s not gross, it’s just a fact.” Jack drops pancake down his front. Warm chocolate chips stain his t-shirt. “Missed your mouth, bud. I’ll get a rag.”

He’s up as quickly as he sat down, running his fingers along your arm and to the palm of your hand, touching you until he can’t. He heads back into the kitchen. His phone is beeping on the table, screen flashing with each new text.

Penelope: boss, I think the thing you asked for is illegal

Penelope: also, I assume you were kidding?

Penelope: so while making it that every link on McMoore’s computer freezes the desktop would’ve been very very funny, I didn’t do that

Aaron had been kidding, emphatically, because illegal activities aren’t his style. It was a sarcastic suggestion, and yet he’s disappointed nonetheless.

Penelope: I just signed him up for a bunch of recovering narcissists forums and an email subscription for self help, and maybe also a free online class about manners and etiquette

Penelope: And I ordered that big canvas for you. It was the one of you guys cutting the cake, right?

Aaron texts her back quickly: Thank you, Penelope. I couldn’t work out the dimensions online.

Penelope: You’re welcome! I live to serve :D

The canvas will look good in the entryway, Aaron believes. Somewhere you can see it, and remember exactly what it is he thinks of you; his eyes glowing with love where he’d been staring at your face, his hand guided yours atop the knife as he traced your features, and you cut that first, fat slice of cake.

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thanks so much for reading! please think about commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed I love knowing what you think!❤️

also small note: this fic is in no way meant to diminish haley im a haley supporter usually (these days at least!) and I just didn’t mention her for brevity’s sake

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

3K notes · View notes

domjaehyun · 2 months ago

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the need to know (l.dh) —part one

PAIRING. sneaky link!fwb!haechan x fem!reader GENRE. smut, fluff, mild angst, some humor CONTENTS. mentions of marijuana, explicit smut (unprotected sex, oral (receiving), overstimulation, praise kink, dom!haechan, switch!reader, breast play, nothing too crazy in this fic dw) WORD COUNT. in total, 40.4k, 13.5k in part one SUMMARY. you and haechan have undoubtedly had tension for the majority of your friendship. what happens when you act on it? PLAYLIST. the need to know (feat. sza) - wale // notice me - sza NOTES. i hope you enjoy! if you’re subscribed to my patreon, this fic is already published in full over there :) the next part will be up on wednesday, december 11th! :) friendly reminder that leaving nice feedback is incredibly sexy and very appreciated!

“I feel like we’ve been in line for these bumper cars for twenty minutes,” Haechan groans.

You check your phone and roll your eyes. “It’s been eight.”

“Well, eight too many! What’s taking so long?” he complains, standing on his tiptoes to peer over the numerous heads in front of you.

“Patience is a virtue,” Jihyo chimes in, and Haechan huffs.

“Well, I’m running out of virtue.” he mutters, and you snort. He looks over at you with a small grin. “You liked that, huh?”

“Yeah, that was kinda funny.” you admit, and his smile widens as he turns fully to face you.

“Well, you know what they say about funny guys,” he muses, and you look off into the distance thoughtfully.

“I don’t think I recall.” you say after a moment, and he narrows his eyes at you.

“They say funny guys are dangerous. They’ll make you laugh and chuckle and then they’ll make your knees buckle.” he announces proudly, and you shoot him a look.

“Literally who is saying that?”

“They are!”

“Who’s ‘they,’ Haechan? I want names and receipts, because I feel like you made that up.”

“Well, I don’t have names or, like, timestamps, but—”

“You have nothing to back you up, is what I’m hearing.” you reply with raised brows, and he scowls at you.

“You’re no fun. Why are you my favorite?” he mutters to himself, and you laugh.

“I’m your favorite?” you coo, leaning onto him with a smile, and he looks over at you with a smile he tried and failed to restrain.

“Unfortunately.” he grouches. “Hey, look, we’re moving!”

“See how time flies when you stop complaining?” you say as the eight of you move up. Shifting slightly behind you, Haechan steps on the back of your shoe, making your heel slip out of your sneaker. “What is your deal?”

“What are you talking about?” He’s the face of innocence, if you ignore the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“You did that on purpose.” you point out.

“What’d he do?” Jiwoo asks curiously, and you turn to her with a pout.

“He stepped on my shoe so it came off.” you complain, and Jiwoo rolls her eyes in Haechan’s direction.

“I did not!”

“You’re a bad liar.” Mark points out, and you smile, satisfied that your friends have your back.

“I haven’t done anything wrong.” he replies, maintaining his innocence, and you huff, glowering at him before turning back around. When the line moves up, he does it again, and you growl under your breath, whirling around to face him once more. “Hi.”

“Shut up.”

“Ouch?” He places a hand over his heart like he’s been wounded, and you roll your eyes dramatically. “Words hurt, you know.”

“Not nearly as much as I wish they did.”

He gasps, loudly and obscenely, and points at you accusingly. “You want to hurt me?” He looks you up and down with budding intrigue. “Why is that kind of hot?”

You sigh loudly, resting your hand on his shoulder as you fix both of your sneakers. “You’re insane, and you’re a nuisance, Haechan.”

“Only to you,” he coos, and Renjun clears his throat pointedly from his spot in front of you two.

“Not true. I also find you to be a nuisance.” he adds.

“I thank you for the support, Renjun, but you find most things to be a nuisance… so that’s not really a surprise.” you say carefully, and his brows knit together thoughtfully before he shrugs, nodding in agreement.

“Fair point. On the bright side, we’re almost at the front of the line,” he points out, and you shift to Haechan’s side as you all step up.

“Aw, you wanted to stand next to me?” he teases.

You blink at him. “You can’t fuck with me if I’m standing right next to you.”

“Is that a challenge? It sounds like a challenge.”

“And if I throttle him?” you announce to your friend group.

“He’d probably moan,” Jaemin says regretfully, and Haechan nods, eyes wide with glee as he presents you with his neck.

“I definitely will. Go for it.”

“Have you no shame?” Jaemin remarks, scandalized, and Haechan pauses to think.

“No.”

“Lovely. Great.” Jaemin mutters to himself, and Haechan smiles, pleased. “Can this line move so I can hit Haechan with my bumper car?”

“Agreed,” Jihyo says.

“Amen,” Mark chimes in.

“Retweet!” Jiwoo adds.

“Period.” you agree.

“Damn, even you?” Haechan exclaims, looking at you with a frown.

“Do you have short term memory loss? Did you forget how you deliberately made my shoes come off, like, two minutes ago?” you ask incredulously, and he rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“I’m going to harm you physically.”

“Maybe come stand next to me,” Jihyo offers, gently pulling you forward in the line towards her.

“Yeah, and you come here.” Jeno suggests, yanking Haechan backwards in line by the collar of his jacket.

“I don’t wanna stand next to you!” Haechan complains. “You smell like weed.”

“I took an edible today.” Jeno remarks plainly, and Haechan wrinkles his nose.

“The stench is embedded in your clothes.”

“I washed this jacket yesterday.” Jeno answers flatly.

“Well, in my defense, how was I supposed to know that?” Haechan huffs.

“Can you shut up and move up? We’re next, I think.” Jeno pushes Haechan forward in the small of his back, and Haechan crumples with a wail, stumbling forward to clutch onto you.

“He stabbed me!”

“Poor baby,” you coo, embracing Haechan as he clings onto you.

“I cannot, for the life of me, make sense of you two.” Jihyo chuckles with a shake of her head, and you shrug, the movement difficult due to Haechan holding onto you.

“He’s cute when he whines.” you answer, and Haechan coos at you fondly, nuzzling his nose into your neck affectionately.

“I think you’re the only person who thinks that,” Jeno chuckles, and you shrug again.

“Don’t listen to him,” Haechan mumbles, words muffled by his face being squished against your neck. “He’s mean. He stabbed me.”

“I poked you.” Jeno sighs with a roll of his eyes.

“You jabbed me!” Haechan counters, and you stroke Haechan’s hair, shushing him gently.

“It’s okay,” you hum soothingly. “You’re safe over here as long as you don’t get on my nerves again.”

“I’ll be such a good boy,” Haechan promises, and your eyes widen in surprise, your sharp intake of breath catching in your throat and making you cough for a second.

“Did not expect you to say that,” you mutter when you recover, and he chuckles, tilting his head up to look at you.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” he teases, and you blink down at him blankly.

“Shut up before I make you stand with Jeno again.”

“Shutting up.”

Finally, your group moves up to the very front of the line, the attendant briefly going over the rules. The eight of you agree to follow the guidelines and he lets you in, all of you scurrying to get in a car. You spot a cute, baby pink bumper car and get in that one, strapping yourself in and quickly familiarizing yourself with the controls.

The attendant hits the buzzer to begin the timer for your session, and you all start to drive around the course, quickly getting the hang of the controls and maneuvering the small vehicles.

You’re careening down the course when you’re bumped from the side, sending your car veering into the guards on the wall. You glare over at the culprit, Haechan grinning flirtatiously as he surges forward, repeatedly bumping your car closer and closer to the corner and more off-course.

“Haechan, pick on someone else.” you complain, and he scrunches his nose as he shakes his head.

“You’re so fun to mess with, though.” he says with an attractive pout.

“God, you’re lucky you’re cute.” you mutter, missing too late the way his eyes flash with satisfaction and budding mischief.

“What was that?” he calls over to you, placing a hand behind his ear.

“I didn’t say anything.” you huff, and he raises an eyebrow skeptically.

“I don’t believe you.”

“Too bad? Not my problem.” you reply with a shrug, and he narrows his eyes.

“Don’t make me come over there.”

“How are you gonna come over here when we can’t leave our bumper cars?” you ask, rolling your eyes.

“I’ll get out and come over there and climb right onto your bumper car.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Jeez—” you mutter, huffing and puffing before admitting, “I said, ‘you’re lucky you’re cute.’��

He grins widely and runs his fingers through his hair, mussing it up casually before he speaks. “How lucky am I, hm?”

You shoot him a wary look. “Haechan, what are you talking about?”

“I wanna get lucky tonight.” he says slowly, wiggling his brows, and you blink at him, waiting to see if he’s serious before an incredulous scoff-laugh escapes you involuntarily.

“I suggest you get real acquainted with your hand, Haechan.” you chuckle, starting to drive forward and bump him out of your way.

“You’re cruel,” Haechan laments. “What happened to me being cute?”

“You’re still cute,” you assure him, blowing him a kiss. “Just not that lucky.”

“Next time,” he calls out to you as you drive away, and you wave him off dismissively.

You half-wish you hadn’t brought up the image of Haechan touching himself, because now it’s all you can think about; his hand gripping himself, the way he might stroke—fast, slow, tight, with a flick of the wrist—

“Pay attention, girl!” Jihyo laughs, bumping into you as she drives by. Rapidly blinking out of your reverie, you realize you’ve been slowly veering in towards the center of the rink, your car riding along the guard rails, and you do your best to clear the Haechan-induced fog in your mind.

The rest of the bumper car session passes fairly quickly, with shrieks and giggles of delight and Haechan repeatedly bumping into you “by accident.” When you get out of the bumper cars, your legs are a bit wobbly, but the light, bubbly feeling you have in your heart more than makes up for it.

“Can we please go on a roller coaster next?” you say hopefully, and Jihyo frowns instantly.

“Those make my stomach drop… I’m gonna pass this time.” she says apologetically, and you nod in understanding, although your face falls a bit.

“We just ate corn dogs and funnel cake, like, right before the bumper cars, and if we go on, we might blow chunks.” Jeno explains, gesturing between himself, Mark, and Jaemin.

Jiwoo looks over at them in confusion. “When did you have time to get food?”

“We snuck off,” Jeno admits sheepishly. “Well, I snuck off… Mark and Jaemin just followed me.”

“You just sensed corn dogs and funnel cake so you wandered off?” Jihyo snorts, and Jeno looks even more embarrassed now than he did earlier.

“I smelled them…” Jeno admits quietly, and you blink, surprised.

“Okay, bloodhound.” you joke, and Jeno snorts in amusement. “So Mister Super Sniffer and his greedy nosy companions are out, Jihyo’s out… I can tell by the look Renjun’s giving me that he’s also out…”

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

“Jiwoo? Haechan?” you ask hopefully.

“I’m sorry, girl, I’m just—I’m kinda scared.” she admits quietly, a small frown on her face.

“Aw, okay,” you reply sympathetically, squeezing her hand gently. You look over at Haechan hopefully, and to your relief, his face softens into a fond smile. “That’s the smile you give me when I’m about to get my way,” you say excitedly, and he chuckles, something warm and inviting in his eyes.

“I’ll go with you.” he agrees, and you squeal, wrapping your arms around his neck for a hug. “Careful, now, before I ask you to ride something else.” he murmurs in your ear suggestively, one hand moving to clutch at your waist, and you gasp, releasing him instantly.

“You’re gross.” you scold him.

“What’d he say?” Jiwoo asks curiously, and you narrow your eyes at Haechan before waving your hand at her dismissively.

“You don’t want to know. Let’s go, Haechan!” you chirp, grabbing his hand and pulling him after you to the biggest, baddest roller coaster you can find.

When you get in the line, Haechan sighs loudly as he looks at the numerous people ahead of you.

“We’re gonna be in this line forever, you know.” he complains.

“Worth it if I get to ride this thing.” you say, looking at the rollercoaster lovingly.

“You are so cute.” Haechan coos, squishing your cheeks until your lips pucker out.

“Can you unhand me, you fiend, you?” you huff, pushing his arms until he releases you with a frown. “You like being treated like a baby; I don’t.”

“Oh, really?” he asks, brows raised in a challenge. “So if I offered to hand feed you and tie your shoelaces and coo at you all the time, you wouldn’t like that?”

“Oh, I’d love that. But that’s being pampered, not being treated like a baby.” you say, and Haechan rolls his eyes.

“Same thing.”

“Nuh-uh! Pampering is treating me like a princess, not a baby.”

“Is that right?” he muses thoughtfully. You nod, and he chuckles, continuing on to say, “So I’m dealing with a little pillow princess, huh?”

“Hey!” you exclaim, looking over at him in surprise.

“Relax, I happen to love pillow princesses.” he assures you, and you eye him warily. “I do! Something about the idea of a pillow princess lying back and letting me do whatever I want to you…” he trails off with a dreamy smile, and you blink rapidly in alarm.

“Her?” you suggest, and he looks over at you, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Huh?”

“You said ‘you’ instead of ‘her,’” you point out, and he nods slowly, clearly not getting your point. “The way you said it made it seem like you were fantasizing about… doing that… to.. me…” you say, trailing off slowly as his brows lift as if to confirm what you’re saying. “Oh.”

“Oh,” he copies you, stepping closer with a grin. “Now what, hm? What’s so wrong with me thinking about you like that?”

“We’re friends, Haechan. Friends don’t typically fantasize about their friends.” you remind him.

“Friends should be allowed to fantasize about their friends,” he counters, “as a treat. Especially when their friends look as good as you do.”

“You’re such a flirt.”

“You know you’re lowkey into it.” he replies confidently, and you hate that he’s right.

“Move up, I think we’re gonna be in the next group.” you say, deliberately shifting the topic.

Haechan eyes the moving line ahead of him and looks back at you with a smile that says he knows exactly what you just tried to do, but relents and moves forward regardless.

As he turns to move, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, realizing that maybe, just maybe, Haechan’s a bit more serious about his flirting than you thought he was, and you have yet to determine how you feel about that.

The smell of cheese and pepperoni pizza fills the bowling alley, almost a pleasing enough aroma to mask the faint but still present smell of sweaty socks and shoes. You sip your diet Pepsi and look around the room; there are birthday parties for children, teenagers congregated by the fountain soda machine, and a smattering of tired parents sitting in the chairs by the bowling ball dispensers—and then there’s your group of friends, eight twenty-somethings far more rambunctious and chaotic than the younger age groups present.

“You’re up,” Jihyo calls to you, nudging you gently, and you sigh heavily before setting down your drink and standing up, making your way to the bowling balls.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you announce loudly to your friends, and you pick up a sparkly pink ball, walking over and just rolling it down the lane with no thought towards strategy or physics or anything of the sort.

To your surprise, you manage to hit three of the corner pins, your ball coming dangerously close to landing in the gutter, and you hear Haechan snicker behind you.

“Laugh it up, Haechan; not everyone is good at bowling. Some of us have other strengths.” you huff, glowering at him, and he raises his hands in defense.

“Hey, I didn’t say anything!”

“You laughed. That’s arguably worse than saying anything.”

“Maybe you should stick to the influencer thing… live life on easy mode, you know?” he says with a wry grin, and you watch as Jiwoo freezes, Jaemin audibly gasps, Mark smacks Haechan on the arm, and Jeno and Renjun exchange a look of disapproval.

“Oh, that’s not–” Jihyo starts, but you hold up a hand to silence her.

“Haechan, do you have any idea how difficult my job is? Just because I don’t spend my days learning the intricacies of Cobra—”

“Python,” Haechan corrects.

“Whatever! Just because I don’t have to submit pages upon pages of technical jargon to my boss, that doesn’t mean I have it easy.” you huff, placing your hand on your hip as you stare him down.

“How hard can it be to be an influencer?” Haechan says with a dismissive roll of his eyes. “I have to submit a code to my boss by midnight, and you have to, what? Do a TikTok?”

You glower at him. “You’re horrible. My job comes with the constant pressure of maintaining public approval, and you know how they have hive minds on TikTok! One day, you’re good, the next week, you could be nothing and everyone’s in your comments talking about, ‘Oh, you fell off,’ or, ‘Not you flopping.’”

Haechan levels his gaze at you, raising an eyebrow. “You get to go on social media and shake your cute little ass for a living… stop whining.”

You blink at him for several beats, processing which part of his statement to address first. “...Did you just call my ass little?”

He rolls his eyes and stands up from his spot, walking in the narrow space between you and the bowling ball dispenser. “More importantly, I called it cute.” he points out, and you can’t help but smile. “Personally, I think your ass is perfect.” He murmurs in your ear, and you hum softly in acknowledgement.

“Oh, yeah? Is that why you spend so much time looking at it?” you ask, and he grins.

“Absolutely. How else do you think I made such an astute observation?” he chuckles, picking up an emerald green bowling ball and lifting it in the air. You watch as his forearm muscles tense with the strain of managing the extra weight of the ball and do your best to hide your staring. “Why? Does that bother you?” he wonders, raising his eyebrows handsomely.

You think about it for a second. “It probably should, huh?”

Haechan grins brilliantly. “Does that mean you like it?”

“I never said that.” you reply, shooting him a look. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He chuckles and turns from you briefly to bowl, the ball rolling down the lane in a perfect straight line before it hits the center pin and subsequently knocks every other pin down. He turns back to you, smiling smugly, and says, “It’s all in the subtext, baby.”

“Baby?” you echo incredulously.

“Yes?” he answers as if you’ve called him, eyes glinting with mischief, and you roll your eyes with an undeniable smile growing on your lips.

“You’re too much.” you mumble, laughing softly, and he smiles at you, his eyes twinkling.

“Can’t handle it?” he murmurs in your ear as he passes by you, heading back to his seat.

“Never said that, either,” you say as you walk over to him and sit beside him. “Just think it’s kinda crazy to call me ‘baby.’”

“Why is that crazy?” he hums, reaching behind you to rest his arm on the bench behind you, his fingertips grazing your shoulder. “Should I call you something else? Honey, baby girl, angel, babe—”

“Shh!” you giggle, reaching to cover his mouth, but he dodges your attack smoothly, eyes alight with mirth as he joins in on your laughter.

“What? Pretty, gorgeous, cutie, sexy—” he continues, dodging your attempt to silence him again and grinning cheekily. “I could do this all night.”

“Please don’t,” Mark and Jeno pipe up in unison. You look over at them with a slight jump, having temporarily forgotten you and Haechan aren’t even remotely alone in this building.

“Killjoys.” Haechan mutters mostly for your ears, and you laugh quietly, covering your mouth to remain inconspicuous. “It’s your turn again,” he points out with a jerk of his chin at the lanes as he pops a piece of gum in his mouth, and you manage to tear your gaze away from his jaw and the attractive way it moves as he chews for long enough to stand up and walk over to the lanes again. “Want them to put up the rails?” he teases, and you turn back to glare at him. “I’m just trying to help you out,” he says, hands raised defensively, and you raise an eyebrow.

“Maybe you should come show me how to do it, then.” you suggest with a small smile, and he chuckles before rising to his feet and striding over to you.

He’s quick to place his hands on your sides, squeezing gently before carefully repositioning you. It doesn’t take long for his hands to slide down to your hips, pulling you back against him so close you can feel his chest rising with every inhale he takes.

“You wanna start with your feet like this,” he murmurs in your ear, manually moving your legs by holding under your thigh just above the back of your knee until he’s satisfied.

“Like that?” you muse softly, looking over your shoulder at him, and he sucks in a breath before chuckling to himself under his breath and nodding.

“Just like that.” he assures you, but the way his voice dips when he says it leads you to believe there’s a suggestive meaning to his words. “Next, you’re gonna bend your arm like this and hold the ball just a bit in front of your shoulder.” he instructs gently, and when you do as he says, he smiles, pleased. “That’s it,” he encourages you, his voice dropping to a deliciously low pitch with that same suggestive lilt. “Bend your knees a little bit and put the foot that’s gonna slide slightly behind the foot that’s gonna stay still.” You do, looking back at him for approval, and he nods proudly. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” you say confidently, and he squeezes your hips slightly before releasing you. You send the ball rolling down the lane in a perfectly straight beeline for the center pin, the ball knocking it and all the pins behind it over, and you squeal with excitement, wrapping your arms around Haechan’s neck and pulling him in for a hug. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer, and just like that, the vibe of the hug shifts, his touch electrifying you as he tucks his face in your neck, breathing in deeply.

“Good job,” he mumbles into the crook of your neck, lips grazing your skin ever so slightly but making you shudder nonetheless.

There’s a loud, obscene retching noise from behind you two, and you both break apart in alarm, turning to look at the source of the noise, Renjun sitting with a very displeased expression on his face and his arms crossed.

“Can we help you?” Haechan asks slowly.

“Yeah, you can get a room.” he says with a grossed-out scowl, and you remove your arms from around Haechan’s neck sheepishly, warmth blooming in your cheeks.

Haechan doesn’t release you just yet, though, still maintaining a firm grip on your waist and the small of your back until you clear your throat gently and his gaze shifts from glowering at Renjun to looking down at you with a question in his eyes. Your throat dries, not expecting his full attention so suddenly, and he lets out a tiny chuckle, lips quirking up into a smile before his eyes drop to your lips.

Your lips part subconsciously, and his grip on you tightens slightly before Jeno clears his throat pointedly, garnering your attention once more.

“Yes?” Haechan asks impatiently.

“A room. Get it.” Jeno remarks with a grimace, and you carefully pry Haechan’s hands off of you, since it seems like he won’t be doing it himself.

“Don’t be a hater,” Haechan remarks with a huff. “It’s not a good look on you.”

“Desperation isn’t a good look on anyone, either, but here you are.” Jeno counters, and Haechan frowns before he looks back at you with a pout.

“He’s so mean,” Haechan whines dramatically, pulling you to stand in front of him. He points at Jeno accusingly. “He hurt my feelings.”

“Don’t worry, Haechan,” you coo, turning to face him. “I happen to think you look very cute when you’re desperate.”

He grins. “Thanks.” His brows furrow in thought a second after, and you wait patiently, eyebrows raised expectantly, for the rest of the sentence to kick in. “Wait—hey!”

“There it is.” you chuckle. “For a software designer, your processing is surprisingly slow.”

“You’re mean, too.” he laments, pouting in a way that’s somehow both cute and handsome. “You’re lucky I kinda like it when you’re mean.”

“Oh, do you?” you muse thoughtfully, reaching up and running your hand through his hair. His eyes flutter shut and a blissful smile makes its way onto his face. “Do you prefer it when I’m mean or nice?”

“Nice, for sure.” he sighs happily as you repeat your motions of playing with his hair. “I like when you dote on me.”

“Is that why you’re such a whiny baby?” you chuckle, and he nods.

“Only for you.”

“Aren’t I lucky?” you drawl sarcastically, and Renjun snorts.

“I’d consider the rest of us deeply unlucky for having to witness it.” he chimes in, and you look back at him.

“Then close your eyes.” you hum dismissively, and Renjun gasps in disbelief.

“I think they’re worse when they’re on the same page.” he remarks to Jeno, who nods.

“They’re definitely worse together, if you ask me.” he agrees, and Haechan opens his eyes to narrow them at Jeno.

“Good thing I didn’t ask, then.” you reply, and Haechan grins at you.

“That was hot.”

“Down, boy.” you warn him playfully, and he wets his lips slowly and deliberately, grinning when your gaze drops to his mouth. “What did I just say?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t listening.” he says with a cheeky grin. “Got distracted.”

“By what?”

“Take a guess.” he suggests, raising an eyebrow pointedly as he looks you up and down.

“There’s, like, no hope for you, is there?” you laugh, and he shakes his head.

“No, ma’am.”

(You ignore the way the term of respect makes something tingle inside of you.)

“Guys, I think Deadpool tickets sold out,” you say worriedly as you enter the movie theater.

Jihyo looks over at you, confused. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, it says ‘Deadpool sold out’ right under the movie time listings, so… that kinda gave me a hunch.” you explain, pointing right at the sign, and Jihyo frowns.

“Maybe that’s an old sign,” Haechan says, striding over to the front desk confidently. “Hi, can we get eight tickets for Deadpool, please?” You don’t get to hear the woman’s response, but you do see her point behind herself at the sign you very much just pointed to. Haechan’s shoulders slump slightly and he walks up to your group once more. “They’re sold out.”

“Gee, how unfortunate. If only there was some way we could have known… some sort of sign, perhaps… maybe one that your dear friend already pointed out…” you lament sarcastically, and he narrows his eyes at you.

“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Oh, I can. Not only can I, but I will.” you retort, and he scrunches his nose at you.

“Well, can you two stop doing that weird foreplay banter thing you do so we can pick a new movie to watch?” Mark asks, and you splutter, surprised.

“That is not what we’re doing—” you start to defend yourself, but Haechan cuts you off.

“No, no, no, that is what I’m doing.” he says, and you slowly turn to look at him in disbelief.

“You shut up.” you huff, crossing your arms. “What are we gonna watch now?”

“We could watch The Texas Chain Saw Massacre,” Renjun suggests. “They’re re-releasing it.”

“How about we not?” Haechan says instantly, brows knitting together in distaste.

“No, I think it’d be fun!” Jiwoo chirps.

“I’d rather actually be able to sleep tonight, thanks.” you disagree, shifting to stand next to Haechan.

“Well, how about we just split up and see what we want?” Jihyo suggests, and you shrug, looking over at Haechan.

“Wanna see a romcom or something?” you ask him, and the corner of his lips quirks up into a smile.

“Sure thing.” he replies, and Renjun gags.

“Can we go get the tickets now?” he half-requests, half-pleads. “I can’t bear witness to whatever these two have going on for much longer.”

“You dramatic ass whiny baby.” you scoff, and Renjun glowers at you.

“You call me a whiny baby, but when Haechan goes on his whiny baby tirade, it’s all ‘poor Haechan,’ and ‘poor baby;’ what about me?!” he complains, and you raise an eyebrow in amusement.

“Renjun, if you want me to baby you, you could just ask.”

“No, you can’t,” Haechan cuts in, taking your hand and pulling you towards the ticket booth.

“Wh—Haechan!” you laugh incredulously.

“I’m the only one you can dote on,” he huffs petulantly at you before turning his attention to the attendant at the ticket booth. “Good evening; could we get two tickets to, uh…” he looks over at you and you roll your eyes with a smile before scanning the movie listings briefly.

“We Live In Time,” you finish, and he nods resolutely.

“We Live In Time,” he echoes, and the attendant smiles and nods, typing something into the computer.

“That’ll be $20,” she says, and Haechan reaches into his back pocket and pulls his phone out, tapping it to the card reader.

“Ooh, and you paid? What a gentleman,” you pretend to fawn over him, and he chuckles.

“You know I’ve got you, baby.” he remarks casually, and his sincerity stops you in your tracks.

Why was that so attractive?

The attendant prints out two tickets and hands them to Haechan, who takes them with a smile and a “thank you” before looping his fingers with yours once more and leading you further into the movie theater.

You want a snack from the concession stand?” Haechan asks as you two walk by it, and you look over at him.

“Maybe? Why; are you buying?” you half-laugh, not expecting him to agree.

“Yeah, come on.” he urges, leading you over to the snacks. “What do you want?”

“Sour Patch Kids,” you answer, pointing at the box. “The strawberry ones.”

“Good choice,” he remarks, amused as he takes the box from the display and hands it to the guy behind the counter. “Can we also get a large popcorn?” He turns back to look at you. “You want something to drink?”

Taken aback by but admittedly attracted to this energy from him, you nod—obediently, even. “Sprite, please—no ice.”

“Large Sprite, no ice, and a large Mountain Dew, please?” he finishes the order and you step forward to stand beside him, trying your best not to look at him with hearts in your eyes.

When you two get to the theater where they’re showing your movie, Haechan gestures for you to lead the way, so you do, picking a spot close to the back of the theater and sitting down.

He sits down next to you, setting the popcorn between your seats, and drapes an arm over the back of your chair.

“How smooth,” you drawl sarcastically, and he grins, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“You know you like it.” he replies confidently, and you try to hide your smile as you focus your attention on the screen as the trailers start to play.

It’s about thirty minutes into the movie, and paying attention is harder than you thought, considering Haechan’s doing everything in his power to make you focus on him instead.

At one point, you reach for popcorn, startling yourself when instead of feeling a buttery popcorn kernel, you feel the warmth of Haechan’s fingers.

“It was fate,” he coos sweetly at you, and you narrow your eyes at him playfully.

“Move your hand or I’ll throw popcorn at you.” you threaten, and he laughs, tipping his head back in mirth.

“You’re so cute,” he sighs in delight, eyes twinkling as he watches you fondly. “Fine, I’ll move my hand—”

“Great.”

“But you have to feed me a piece of popcorn.” he says with a smirk, and you blink at him incredulously.

“You’re really something, you know that?” you chuckle, picking up a piece of popcorn and bringing it to his lips. “Open.”

He obliges, sticking his tongue out flat, and you place the fluffy popped kernel on his tongue, trying the whole time not to think about how nice his tongue looks, glistening in the light from the movie screen.

“Thank you,” he hums, chewing happily, and you snap out of it, clearing your throat and returning your attention to the movie. “What a coincidence that it’s just the two of us,” Haechan remarks quietly, and you turn your head to look at him. “Are you sure you didn’t just want a chance to be alone with me?”

You sigh. “Haechan, this movie was my idea. You followed me in here.”

“Watch that cute little mouth of yours before I revoke your snack privileges.”

“You touch my snacks and I’ll make you wish you were at the mercy of that Texas Chain Saw Massacre killer.” you promise him, and he exhales quietly through his nose in amusement.

“Don’t worry, baby; I wouldn’t actually dream of getting between your snacks and your little sweet tooth.”

“Good.”

“Actually,” Haechan muses, and you turn to look at him again. “That’s probably why you and I get along so well.”

It’s your turn to exhale through your nose in a quiet laugh. “Why, because you have a sweet tooth, too?”

“Because I’m sweet.” he answers plainly, like it was obvious, and your snort of amusement is loud enough that someone else in the theater shushes you.

“Is that what your mom tells you?” you tease, and he glowers at you.

“Hey! I’m a delight!”

“Didn’t say you weren’t,” you reply with a smile, and he matches it, leaning a little closer as his eyes drop to your lips.

“Wanna see how sweet I can be?” he asks softly, and you find your breath hitching as he leans even closer.

His lids drop slightly in preparation for the kiss, but you press a Sour Patch Kid treat to his lips instead, smiling innocently when he opens his eyes with a slow flutter.

“What was that for?” he whines slightly, and you raise your eyebrows.

“You seemed like you wanted to taste something sweet.” you hum, and he frowns handsomely at you.

“You know what I wanted.” he huffs, and you shrug, returning your attention to the movie.

“Pay attention to the movie.”

“I’d rather pay attention to you.”

“And as much as I love attention, I’m trying to pay attention to the movie, which I am struggling to do with your repeated attempts to put the moves on me.”

“Oh? I’m distracting you?” he murmurs, a smug smile audible in his voice. “Sorry, baby.”

“It’s okay, baby,” you say as he pops a piece of popcorn in his mouth, and he sucks in a sharp breath, promptly choking on the piece of popcorn and making you whip your head around to look at him in alarm.

He glowers at you as he recovers, your eyes bright with amusement once you’ve assessed that he’s in no real danger. “That was evil.”

“I’m evil.”

“That’s hot.”

“Haechan?”

“Yes, baby?”

You roll your eyes with a chuckle. “Pay attention.”

“Maybe I could if you weren’t flirting with me.”

“Get real, Haechan.” you snort.

“Baby, there’s no one realer than me.”

“Baby,” you say, stressing the pet name, “pay attention and stop flirting with me before I stuff more popcorn down your throat.”

“Damn, that’s kinda hot.”

“Haechan!” you whisper loudly, laughing in surprise and incredulity, and several voices shush you from around the theater.

“Can’t help it; you’re kinda hot when you’re bossing me around.” he defends himself, and you roll your eyes.

“Get a hold of yourself.” you huff, and he frowns.

“I’d rather get a hold of you instead.”

“I’m sure. Too bad.”

“God, you’re a tease.” he sighs dreamily, and you shoot him a funny look out of the corner of your eye.

“Sure, if that’s what’ll make you shut up.”

“I kinda love it.”

“Shut up before you get us kicked out!” you whisper insistently, your cheeks warming at his incessant flirting.

“Mm, yes, ma’am.” he groans, the sound so suggestive you whip your head around to look at him in surprise, scandalized. “I like when you’re bossy.”

“I’m ignoring you now.”

“You can try.”

“I will succeed.”

“You’re already failing,” he points out with a grin, and you scowl at him, pointedly looking forward at the screen without another word.

Even with the music filling the room and the numerous bodies in between you two, Haechan’s staring is getting harder and harder to ignore. His eyes bore into you from all the way across the room where he stands talking to Jeno and Mark, and it’s so intense it’s almost palpable, prompting you to meet his gaze with a raise of your eyebrows.

He grins, flicking his eyebrows upwards, and you chuckle, turning your attention back to Renjun’s rant about his neighbor.

“...and then he had the nerve to tell me to ‘keep my music down’ as if he’s not up at the asscrack of dawn doing construction in his apartment!”

“What a hypocrite,” you say with a grimace, and Renjun nods vigorously, relief written all over his face.

“I’m surprised you even heard any of that,” Jihyo remarks, raising an eyebrow at you as she sips at the straw sticking out of her drink.

You shoot her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

“Well, with all the eye-fucking you and Haechan keep doing, I figured you were a little preoccupied.” she comments, and you narrow your eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, turning your nose up with a sniff.

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t lie to me.” she says with a playfully stern look. “Now, what’s going on with you and Haechan?”

“Yeah, what is going on with you and Haechan?” Renjun asks curiously, leaning forward in anticipation to hear you better.

“Nothing!” you say defensively, and Jihyo arches an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah? Then why is he coming over here?” she asks with a knowing smile that only grows when you subconsciously fix your hair as, sure enough, Haechan approaches, eyes on you the whole time. “Hi, Haechan.”

“Hey,” he replies distractedly, tilting his head to the side as he regards you. “Hi,” he says to you, his lips quirking up into a smile.

“Hi,” you answer, mirroring his expression.

There’s a beat of silence before Renjun speaks. “‘Hi, Renjun. How was your day? I totally see you standing to my right, and I’m definitely not ignoring you like a piece of lint—’”

“Hi, Renjun.” Haechan says with a laugh, and Renjun glowers at him, muttering something under his breath about going where he’s appreciated before stalking off, presumably to subject another one of your friends to his tirade about his neighbor. “You having fun?” he asks you, and you nod, prompting him to smile widely and puff out his chest slightly before saying, “More now that I’m here, right?”

“Sure, Haechan,” you reply with a small laugh, and Jihyo just raises her brows at both of you.

“I’m gonna go find Jiwoo,” she says, shooting you in particular a secretive smile before disappearing into the crowd of people.

Haechan immediately steps into the space she occupied, now much closer to you, and his smile widens even more before he speaks, murmuring, “I like your top. You look so good tonight, but I’m sure you knew that.”

“I did,” you confirm, and he snorts. “But thank you. You look good, too.”

“Oh, yeah? We’re kind of matching.” he points out, gesturing to your black lace up top and his dark gray Nirvana t-shirt.

“Are we? That’s gray.” you reply with a growing smile.

“Dark gray and black are practically the same color.”

“But are they actually the same color? No.”

“Why are you being difficult?” he says with narrowed eyes, and you shrug.

“It’s my specialty.” you answer with a beguiling smile, and he rolls his eyes, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips even as he feigns exasperation.

“Anyway,” he stresses the word, shifting the conversation. “Do you wanna get some fresh air with me?”

“Mm, not really; it’s kinda cold outside.” you say with a small pout.

“You can wear my jacket,” he offers, and you pause, thinking about it.

“Maybe later. For now, do you wanna come with me to the kitchen? I want a snack.” you ask, and he smiles at the invitation before nodding.

“Lead the way, baby.” he coos, and you roll your eyes with a smile as you do just that, reaching back to link pinkies with him.

“So we don’t get separated,” you explain.

He beams. “Good idea.”

You two make your way through the throng of bodies and into the kitchen, where you promptly start raiding the cabinets.

“I love Jeno and Jaemin to death, but their snack selection is shit.” you huff in disappointment, turning back to Haechan to see that he’s propped himself up against the kitchen counter, watching you with amusement and intrigue.

“Jeno went on a snack purge the other day,” he reminds you. “Said something about overly processed foods and saturated fats.”

“Well, sorry if I like my foods overly processed and my fats saturated.” you gripe, and Haechan laughs, pushing off the counter to walk over to you.

“I think they have fruit in the fridge,” he says, leaning into your space to open the refrigerator door. He pauses before he pulls back, eyes trained on your lips and his own lips part in a soft sigh, tongue poking out to wet them.

“The snacks?” you remind him with a growing smile, unable to resist glancing at his very tempting mouth.

“I’m looking at one,” he breathes, and you burst out laughing, pushing him back gently.

“That was very cheesy.” you giggle, and he shrugs shamelessly.

“It made you laugh, so I consider it a win.” he says with a soft, fond smile.

Your cheeks flare with warmth, not used to the gentleness and sincerity in his eyes, and divert your attention to the now open fridge, picking out a container of grapes that you hope are washed as you pop one into your mouth and chew. The burst of sweetness is very welcome on your tongue, and you lean back onto the fridge, closing your eyes in bliss.

“Better?” he chuckles, and you nod.

“Want one?” you say, offering him a grape, and he nods, leaning in to eat it from your fingers. Before he pulls back, he looks at you with heavy-lidded eyes, his sultry gaze too much for you at the moment and making you return your attention to the container of grapes with an urgency that doesn’t go unnoticed by Haechan.

“Cute.” he murmurs softly, and you huff, trying (and failing) to hide your budding smile at the compliment.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” you say, carefully extracting yourself from the small space he’s got you cornered in.

His eyes twinkle with amusement as he raises his eyebrows suggestively. “Was that an invitation?”

“It most certainly was not.”

“Aw, man. Next time?” he asks hopefully, and you snort.

“Don’t count on it.”

You do your best to hold your breath as you make your way through the hallway, stopping by the window for a moment before sticking your head out and breathing in the fresh air gratefully. After a moment of relief, you decide to open the window wider, climbing out and sitting on the windowsill, feet carefully resting on the fire escape attached to the side of the building.

It’s quieter over here, you note, pleased with your newfound situation as you scroll through your phone. Sure enough, when you open Instagram and tap on Jeno’s story, you see two boomerangs; one of him and his friends sitting in a circle around his bong, and one of him blowing smoke out of his mouth.

You tap the heart for both posts before footsteps pull your attention away from your phone, making you turn your head to see the newcomer.

Haechan stops about a foot away from the window, leaning against the wall. “I thought I’d find you out here. Thought you said it was too cold?”

“It is, actually, but this air doesn’t reek of weed.” you explain, and he nods in understanding.

“Mind if I join you?”

You wordlessly scoot over to make room for him, and he smiles, climbing out and sitting beside you. The side of your leg presses against his as he makes himself comfortable, but you don’t really want to move it.

So you don’t, and you just silently appreciate the warmth radiating from his body as he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, and he smiles at you, nodding.

“The city looks so pretty like this,” Haechan sighs, and you direct your gaze straight ahead of you, taking in all of the city lights in the nearby buildings and the bridges in the distance. “It’s almost as pretty as you,” he says, nudging you with a cheeky grin, and you exhale through your nose in amusement.

“It is pretty,” you agree. “Someone’s feeling flirtatious, I see.”

“Can you blame me? You show up tonight looking as good as you do and expect me not to want to be all over you?” he snorts, and you raise your eyebrows, slightly surprised by how forward he’s being.

“‘All over me?’” you repeat, and he nods, looking you directly in the eyes. “Like… all over me?”

“You interpret it however you want to, baby.”

“You’re gonna have to stop calling me ‘baby,’ by the way; it’s starting to confuse me.” you tell him, and he raises an eyebrow.

“How so?”

“I think I kinda like it,” you confess, and his gaze drops to your lips instantly, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

“Oh, really?” he murmurs suggestively, running one finger around one of the rips on the thigh of your jeans, and he chuckles softly as you shiver slightly, goosebumps raising on your arms. “Cold?”

“Something like that.” you reply evasively, and he snorts, his smile widening.

“Back to what you were saying… about liking when I call you ‘baby,’” he quickly returns to the previous topic, and you roll your eyes slightly in amusement. “What’s so wrong with that?”

“Friends don’t typically call each other ‘baby.’” you point out, and he shrugs.

“Maybe we can be special friends.”

“Oh, yeah? Special how?”

“Maybe we call each other cute names… touch a little bit… kiss a little bit…” he trails off, and you look over to see that he’s watching your lips again, a small grin on his lips.

“Mm, that could get messy though.” you murmur, and he gazes at you, longing openly written all over his handsome features.

“Life is messy.” he points out.

“This doesn't have to be.” you reply, gesturing between the two of you. Haechan links his fingers with yours and sets your linked hands on top of your touching thighs, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. “That feels nice,” you sigh, leaning against him slightly.

“I bet I could make you feel even nicer.” he muses suggestively, and you snicker.

“Won’t lie and say I’m not a little curious.” you admit, and he sucks in a sharp breath of surprise.

“Don’t tempt me,” he murmurs. “I don’t particularly feel like holding back right now.”

“Oh, is that what you usually do?” you reply, speaking as soft and low as he just did.

He nods. “You always tempt me, actually—I’m just not feeling like beating around the bush right now.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise and—you won’t lie—intrigue. “And what’s making you feel like that right now?”

“A number of things,” he replies. “How unbelievably good you look tonight, the way I can see the goosebumps on your skin when I touch you, and,” his voice gets even softer but carries an urgency you don’t believe you’ve heard from him before, “the way you’re looking at me.”

“And how am I looking at you?” you question, tilting your head to the side curiously.

“The same way I’m always looking at you.” he answers, and you don’t need him to elaborate.

“So if that’s all true,” you muse, regarding him carefully, “then why aren’t you doing anything about it?”

“I like what we have,” he says in reply, and you smile. “Wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

“And what if I said I kind of want you to ruin it?” Your words are quieter than ever, tentative even, but by the way the fire in Haechan’s eyes intensifies, you know he heard you all the same.

“What did I just say about tempting me?”

“It wasn’t a temptation,” you say carefully. “It was an invitation.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “You know, I’ve never been one to ignore my urges before,” he admits. “If I want something, I get it.”

“Oh, yeah?” You can’t even try to hide the arousal building in you as you watch his lips with uninhibited longing.

“Yeah.” His gaze matches yours, unbridled desire swimming in his eyes as he slowly leans in, and you find yourself mirroring him, the two of you moving painfully slowly as you get closer and closer.

“And what is it that you want right now?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“I bet you can guess,” he murmurs as his lips brush the corner of your mouth.

“Give me a hint.” you reply, and he grins, turning your face towards him gently and bringing his lips to yours.

It starts slowly, his lips gently moving with yours, before he pulls back ever so slightly, your eyes opening to see him watching you carefully.

“Good?” he murmurs.

“Good,” you confirm, and he smiles before leaning back in to close the gap between your lips. This kiss is much less tentative, his lips parting to suck gently at your bottom lip, and when you whine softly, he pushes forward, reaching up to cup your cheek as he captures your lips with his over and over again, each kiss more dizzying than the last until his mouth is moving fervently against yours, his tongue tracing along your bottom lip before slipping into your mouth with a quiet groan.

Your hand finds its way to his thigh, and as soon as it makes contact, it’s like a switch flips in Haechan, his lips leaving yours to kiss the corner of your mouth, your cheek and along your jaw before finally settling comfortably on your neck, mouth kissing, sucking, and licking at your pulse point.

“Haechan,” you whimper, and he hums against your neck, but you can tell he’s not really listening. “Haechan,” you sing-song softly in another attempt to get his attention, but he just slips his hand under your thigh farthest from him, scooping your legs up and moving them to drape over his lap. “Haechan,” you whine urgently, and his kisses finally falter, the male pausing but not moving away from you as he waits for you to speak. “Can we go somewhere more private and… less chilly?”

He pulls back, lips deliciously puffy from kissing, and nods with a dazed look in his eyes. “Jaemin’s room?”

You don’t even have it in you to be considerate of your friend, the lust clouding your mind and doing away with your judgment as you nod. He grins and ducks back into the apartment, helping you do the same before leading you to Jaemin’s room, never once letting go of your hand.

When you two get to Jaemin’s room, you’ve barely cleared the doorway before Haechan shuts the door and pushes you up against it, kissing you ardently and clutching your waist to drag you closer to him. He nips at your bottom lip briefly before kissing down your neck and sliding his hands up to cup your breasts, squeezing them and looping his finger in the string tying your top together.

“Why don’t we take this off, hm?” he murmurs, slowly pulling the string with a growing grin as the bow—the one Jiwoo so carefully tied for you earlier this evening—comes undone, leaving no resistance when Haechan pulls your top over your head.

He eagerly returns to kissing you, hands groping at your chest as he traces circles around your slowly hardening nipples. He pulls back from the kiss slightly and moves like he’s about to kiss down your neck, only to whine and bring you back in for another kiss, panting against your lips, “I wish I had more mouths.”

“You what?” you say, bursting into giggles so strong that you can barely manage to kiss him back, and he joins you in your laughter.

“Stop, I’m being serious!”

“I know—I think that’s why it’s so funny,” you say through your laughter, and he growls in lighthearted frustration before whirling you around and all but shoving you onto the bed. You squeal in surprise, giggling still as you bounce on the bed, and he rolls his eyes, climbing on top of you. “What kind of eldritch horror are you thinking of becoming? Like how many mouths and where?”

“Can we just—forget I said that?” Haechan whines, and you shake your head with a gleeful giggle.

“I don’t wanna,” you say with a pout, wrapping your legs around his waist, and he groans in exasperation. “I’m kind of a monsterfucker, so you saying that really got me going.”

“You’re joking.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” you ask, looking up at him, and he slowly shakes his head—whether it’s in disagreement or in disbelief, you’re not sure, but when his lips start trailing down to your collarbone, you’re not entirely sure it matters anymore.

“I’d want mouths on the palms of my hands,” he grunts, cupping your breasts again through your bra, “so I can kiss you and suck your tits at the same time.” Before you can respond, his wet, swollen lips fall to your chest, tongue trailing all over your exposed skin before he’s tugging the cup of your bra down and taking your nipple into his mouth.

A whimper escapes you, spurring Haechan on further, and he wraps one arm around you, pressing between your shoulder blades to bring your chest closer to his mouth. His tongue is warm and wet as it flicks at your nipple, Haechan groaning as he swirls it around and around your stiffened bud.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he mumbles around his mouthful of your breast, and his other hand trails down your body to settle between your legs, Haechan delivering two gentle pats to your inner thighs in a wordless request for you to spread them. When you oblige, he smiles around your nipple before wetly licking and sucking his way from one breast to the other. His fingers quickly and deftly unbutton your jeans, barely yanking them down before his hand slips into your pants, stroking along the seat of your underwear, pressing down harder when you whine.

“Haechan, please,” you moan, running your fingers through his hair and tugging gently when you reach the ends.

“Mm, what is it, pretty? What do you want?” he teases with a quiet laugh, looking up at you as he pushes your underwear aside and trails two fingers up your slick folds, hissing in delight. “Is this what you want?” he asks, dipping his fingers into your entrance slightly and relishing the groan of frustration you let out.

“Yes,” you moan, tugging his hair a bit harder in retaliation for his teasing.

Finally giving into your demands, he pushes his middle and ring finger into your core, lapping at your nipple as you whimper loudly in relief. “Shh, shh, shh—I know, baby, I know.” he soothes you in a hushed murmur, slowly starting to pull his fingers out before pushing them in deeper.

“Feels good,” you exhale shakily, and he coos in understanding.

“It’ll feel even better in a second,” he promises, starting to move his fingers in and out of you. “Just gotta open you up first.” He releases your nipple, giving it one last lick before moving back up to hover above your face, gazing down at your pleasure-filled expression in wonder before he’s leaning down to kiss you, silencing your cries of pleasure as he starts to twist and scissor his fingers inside of you. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet. All this for me? Hm?”

“No, it’s for Renjun,” you huff sarcastically, breaking the kiss momentarily to glower at him. “Of course it’s for you, dummy.”

He narrows his eyes at you. “There is a time and place for your sass, and it’s not when my fingers are literally inside of you. Besides,” he says, curling his fingers inside of you and making you gasp in pleasure, “why would you be mean when I’m making you feel so good, hm?”

“S-Sorry,” you stammer as his curled fingers massage at your inner walls in search of your g-spot, which he finds quickly, eliciting a sharp whimper from you as you clench around his fingers. “It’s all for you,” you confirm breathlessly, and he grins before kissing you again.

“Good girl. You’re gonna have to make it up to me, though.” he murmurs against your lips, and you pout, prompting him to coo fondly and kiss you again. “Even with that cute little pout.”

“I said sorry,” you complain, and he shrugs, fingers quickening their pace inside of you.

“I’m sensitive.” he replies simply, kissing down to your neck and sucking and biting at various spots until you’re sure there are marks blooming all over your skin. “It’s okay, though—I know how you can make it up to me.”

“H–How?” you ask warily, voice catching as the pleasure builds inside of you, his repeated stimulation of your g-spot bringing you closer and closer to climax as your insides tighten in anticipation.

“Cum for me?” he grunts, and you can’t tell if it’s a request or a stated demand, but you nod, breath hitching and your cries escalating in pitch as you start to do just that, your climax washing over you as your abdomen tenses repeatedly, your body curling in on itself as much as possible given that Haechan’s practically pinning you in place.

“That’s it, baby,” he purrs, coaxing more of your climax out as he keeps fucking you with his fingers, milking your orgasm for everything he can get, your entrance drooling clear evidence of your arousal all over his fingers and into the seat of your underwear. “Making such a pretty little mess for me,” he breathes, kissing you again as his fingers urge the last convulsions of your climax out of you.

You’ve barely recovered before your hands reach for his pants, fingers clumsily unbuckling his belt, undoing his button, and yanking down his zipper. He chuckles fondly and pushes them down to his knees, your eyes locking in on the imprint of his length in his boxers as he palms himself through his underwear.

“You like what you see?” he teases, and you furrow your brows.

“Your underwear’s in the way.” you grouch, and his eyes brighten with amusement, thumbs hooking into his boxers and pulling down until his length springs free. “Much better,” you hum, pleased as you rest your head down on Jaemin’s pillow.

“Look so pretty laying like that.” he grunts as he slowly fucks his fist. “Wish I could take a picture and keep it forever.”

“I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully.” you say, and he raises a brow expectantly. “Please fuck me.”

The brightness in his eyes remains, but now there’s a heavier, darker edge to his gaze as he leans over you, lips teasing yours apart.

“Did you just beg for me?” he coos tauntingly, and you sigh.

“I did not beg. I asked nicely.”

“Sure, baby. I’ll give you what you want,” he promises, lining the head of his cock up with your entrance and slowly pushing into you, making your breath catch in your throat. He exhales deeply and dips his head down to your neck, latching onto your skin and sucking as he starts to drag his length out and back in, building a teasingly slow rhythm.

“So full,” you gasp, and he chuckles, kissing up your neck to your lips.

“You feel so good, pretty girl. Tight little pussy keeps sucking my cock back in; you like this that much?” he coos, one hand groping your breast.

“Don’t tease me,” you huff, and he grins widely.

“How are you gonna stop me?” he counters smugly, choosing that moment to speed up the movements of his hips until the sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room, each thrust punctuated by a whimper from you. “You’re not going to do anything about it; you’re just gonna lay here and take this dick nice and deep in your little pussy until you cum all over it.”

“Fuck, Haechan—” you mumble, dazed by his thrusts and even more by his filthy language.

“You love it, don’t you?” he teases, capturing your lips in a filthy kiss where he plays with your tongue almost lazily.

“Uh-huh,” you can barely manage to get out, and he hums in satisfaction.

“Show me how much you love it.” he urges, rolling his hips against yours sensually. When you start to move your hips against his, rocking up into his every thrust into you, he rewards you by sucking on your bottom lip and flicking your nipple back and forth with his thumb. “Fuck, that feels so good, pretty girl, keep doing that.”

You fuck him back to the best of your ability, that familiar tightening sensation in your stomach alerting you to your impending climax. “Haechan, think I’m gonna cum—” you warn him, and he nods, pinching your nipple just enough to make you squeal.

“Cum, baby; wanna feel you clench around my cock.” he purrs, and your climax hits a moment later, a cry slipping from your lips as your back arches, your hand clutching his arm for something to ground yourself as your body curls in on itself involuntarily. “That’s it, pretty girl—doing such a good job—squeezing my cock so tight, baby, fuck—”

By the time your climax has passed, you’re still trembling slightly as aftershocks of pleasure travel through you with every thrust from Haechan, and you’re so wet you can hear his length moving in and out of you, hear your pussy sucking him back in as it hugs his length tightly, and heat rises to your face.

“My turn, baby; think you can take my load?” he grunts, and you nod instantly, clenching around his length every time he bottoms out in you. “That’s my good girl,” he coos fondly, his brows knitting together as he starts to release into you. “Milking me dry, baby, fuck—” he hisses, and you smile in satisfaction as he shudders, lowering himself to kiss you as he fucks the last bit of his cum into you.

Finally, when his length stops throbbing inside of you, he pulls out and lies down next to you, both of you breathing heavily.

“Hey,” he says, turning his head to face you.

“Hi,” you reply with a smile, and his lips curl into a matching smile.

“You okay?” he asks gently, and you nod.

“Better than okay.” you assure him, and he sighs, relieved. A thought comes to your mind and you nudge his leg with your knee. “Hey.”

“Hi?” he answers curiously, and you roll onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow.

“If you had multiple mouths—”

“Please let it go, it was silly—” he interjects with a half-chuckle, half-groan.

“I like silly!” you counter, and he looks over at you skeptically, his features relaxing when he reads the sincerity in your face. “If you had multiple mouths, would you have them anywhere besides your hands?”

He thinks about it for a moment before he nods. “I’d have one on each thigh… so while I’m kissing you, I can grope your tits with my hand-mouths and have you sit on my thigh so I can eat you out, too.”

You shudder slightly, and he raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, I got a little excited.”

“You’re joking… damn, you’re kinkier than I thought. That’s hot,” he grunts appreciatively.

“I think we should get up before Jaemin comes in here and chops our heads off.” you say suddenly as the reminder that this is not somewhere you want to be caught fucking dawns on you.

“You’re so right,” he agrees, sitting up and helping you off of the bed. You both hurriedly redress, Haechan stumbling as he pulls his pants up and making you both giggle. “Ready?” he says finally, fully redressed.

You ruffle his hair, messing with it until it’s back in place, and hold the strings to your top out to Haechan. “Tie it for me?”

He smiles fondly and steps closer, tying a cute bow into your top and leaning back to inspect his handiwork. “You’re good, baby.”

“Thanks,” you say sincerely, opening the door and heading back to the party. You two give each other a knowing look before you enter the living room and go your separate ways, Haechan heading for Jeno and Renjun while you head for Jiwoo and Jihyo. “Boo!” you say from behind them, and Jiwoo whirls around, clutching her chest.

“Shit!” she exclaims. “Don’t do that!”

“Sorry,” you reply without a hint of remorse.

“Where’d you go?” Jihyo asks curiously.

“I was on the fire escape,” you explain, deciding to tell a half-truth. “I didn’t want to smell Jeno’s weed.”

“Ah, fair.” she answers with a nod.

“Hey, your bow is different.” Jiwoo points out, pointing at the bow on your shirt that Haechan tied. “Did you take your top off or something?” she snorts, amused with her little joke, but Jihyo looks over at you carefully, shrewd gaze scanning your body for anything else out of place.

“No, I just had to re-tie it because one of the strings got caught on one of the screws on the fire escape and it looked all wonky,” you lie, and Jiwoo nods in understanding.

“Copy that. Well, I’m hungry; wanna go raid their fridge?” she offers, and you start to nod, but you freeze when you feel something drip out of your core.

“I am totally in, but I have to use the bathroom first.” you say, clasping your hands together in a pleading gesture. “Wait for me?”

Jihyo’s still staring at you like she’s silently interrogating you, and you won’t lie and say you’re not unnerved. “Earth to Jihyo?”

She blinks slowly before focusing her gaze on you once more, eyes now softer and less scrutinizing. “Sorry, I was just… thinking. Yeah, we’ll wait for you.”

“Cool,” you say, relieved, before making your way to the bathroom to clean yourself up. You make quick work of peeing and sorting yourself out, washing your hands and drying them before heading back to the living room where Jihyo and Jiwoo and, to your surprise, Haechan stand. “I’m back!” you chirp before looking over at Haechan. “You weren’t here a minute ago.”

“Jeno and Renjun started bickering about something, so I left.” he replies with a shrug. “You don’t mind if I join you guys, right?” he shoots you a knowing look with a secretive smile, and it takes everything in you not to start giggling like a schoolgirl.

“I guess you can,” you say nonchalantly, and he beams at you.

“Great! Where are we going?” he asks curiously, and you point towards the kitchen.

“To find snacks!” Jiwoo says eagerly, and you all walk to the kitchen, you and Haechan starting to fall to the back of the line until he’s side by side with you.

“You already said their snack selection was garbage,” he remarks, confused, and you shush him.

“Yeah, but I’m not getting a snack; Jiwoo is. So we’ll let her figure that out for herself,” you explain, and he nods in understanding.

“I see,” he hums thoughtfully. “Well… did you tell them? About earlier—”

“No,” you answer, and he sighs in relief. “Don’t worry, it’s our little secret.”

“Copy that,” he chuckles, fingers brushing against yours before they intertwine and he squeezes your fingers gently. When you look down at your linked hands and back up at him, he smiles cheekily. “So we don’t get separated,” he says with an upwards flick of his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes but pull him forward, finally entering the kitchen in time to see a cranky Jiwoo.

“Their snack selection is ass. What am I, a rabbit?” she laments, and you smile in amusement.

“They’re great at house parties, bad at refreshments.” Haechan says, and Jihyo looks over at you two before her gaze drops down to your linked hands, an eyebrow raising in suspicion.

You carefully and casually let go of Haechan’s hand by running your fingers through your hair, and Haechan fixes his mouth to complain before he looks in Jihyo’s direction and seems to understand, relaxing slightly.

Between Haechan’s need for attention, your inexplicably magnetic attraction to each other, and Jihyo’s deeply suspicious and perceptive gaze, you know you have quite a night ahead of you.

The following morning finds you back at home sitting at the kitchen island, scrolling through your phone and checking your engagement before a text banner notification drops down from the top of your screen.

haechan [10:08am] good morning 😌 did you miss me? you [10:10am] sorry……who’s this? haechan [10:11am] you’ve GOT to be joking 😟 you [10:13am] i very much am 💖 good morning haechan ☀️ haechan [10:15am] don’t play with me like that i almost crashed out haechan [10:15am] can i come over? i have a question for you you [10:16am] haechan what are we doing rn haechan [10:17am] ….talking? you [10:17am] right… and would you consider talking a synonym for ‘having a conversation’ or no? haechan [10:18am] ……….yes……….. is this a trick question you [10:20am] so if we’re already having a conversation, by your definition….. why, pray tell, can’t you just ask me NOW 🤨 haechan [10:22am] *Message sent with Invisible Ink* maybe i just wanted a reason to see you ☹️ you [10:24am] oh… well that’s cute actually haechan liked your message “oh… well that’s cute actually” haechan [10:25am] awesome…… so can i come over? 😁 you [10:26am] ofc you can 💖 haechan [10:27am] great can you let me in 😁

You tilt your head, confused by his message, but a knock on your door makes you practically jump out of your seat. You make your way to the front door and look through the peephole, barking out an abrupt laugh when you see Haechan sporting a cheesy grin on the other side of the door.

“You are insane,” you laugh as you open the door for him, inviting him inside. He enters, still sporting the playful smile, and shuts the door behind himself.

“In, like, a cute, hot, sexy way, though, right?” he asks hopefully, and you roll your eyes with a smile before shrugging and nodding, watching as relief floods his features.

“Your question?” you ask, getting straight to the point, and he visibly balks, the normally shameless Haechan becoming quiet and shifty. “Haechan?” you call his name with a tinge of worry in your voice.

“Did you have a good time last night?” he asks, and you raise your eyebrows.

“That’s your question?” you question, in disbelief.

“I’m building to it,” he explains. “Now: did you have a good time last night?” he repeats, and you blink at him impassively before sighing in slight defeat.

“I did,” you answer, not sure if he meant the party or… well, the sex… but you had a good time regardless of which he meant. “Did you?”

“I had an amazing time.” he says sincerely.

“Great,” you reply, just as sincerely. A small silence passes before your impatience gets ahold of you. “Haechan…”

“Yes?” he responds, nervousness creeping into his voice.

“Your question?”

“Right,” he mutters, clearing his throat as he prepares to speak. Meanwhile, you move to sit back down in your chair, swiveling around in the seat as you wait for his question. “Um—look—I really enjoyed last night. It was amazing, actually, and—I’m talking about the sex, by the way.” he stammers, his sudden clarification at the end making you giggle, regarding him fondly.

“I figured, yes.” you assure him, and he nods, somewhat relieved. “Go on,” you urge him gently, and he swallows visibly.

“I would love to, um… do that again… but I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship right now. I’m still getting used to juggling my job and my social life, and I really don’t want to fuck up our friendship—”

“And you want to be friends with benefits,” you finish for him, and he pauses, body tense as he rapidly tries to read your reaction.

“...Yes?”

“Okay,” you agree, and he just about crumples with relief, leaning against the kitchen island for support. “I’m down. But if we don’t want it to ruin our friendship or the friend group, maybe we shouldn’t tell them?”

“I was thinking the same thing,” he sighs, significantly more relaxed than he was a moment ago. “Plus, it could be kinda fun, y’know? Us… sneaking around… together…” he says, gesturing between the two of you with a suggestive wiggle of his brows.

“I couldn’t agree more.” you say sweetly, and he beams at you, all traces of his earlier nerves gone. “Do you think we should have some ground rules? So we don’t complicate things?”

“Sure, yeah,” he agrees instantly, and you smile, patting the chair next to you invitingly as you pull up the Notes app on your phone.

“So we want sex with virtually no emotional connection, right?” you clarify, and he nods, his reaction a second too late to process as casual. Ignoring it politely, you continue on. “So, maybe ‘no cuddling’ should be a rule.”

“No cuddling?” he laments, and you nod resolutely.

“Cuddling encourages emotional intimacy.”

“Fine,” he sighs, frowning slightly. “Can I still hug you?”

“Hugging and cuddling are… not the same thing, so yes.” you answer with a laugh as you type the first rule, and he smiles, chuckling lightheartedly.

“Maybe… we shouldn’t spend the night after we have sex?” he suggests, and you nod, typing it into the note you’ve made.

“Is this, like, exclusive?” you ask, gesturing between the two of you, and he tilts his head thoughtfully.

“I guess not…” he says, an air of reluctance to his words that makes you pause and look at him carefully.

“Haechan, speak now or forever hold your peace.” you warn him, and he nods firmly.

“We don’t have to be exclusive if you don’t want to be. It’s up to you.”

“How about we leave that part open-ended for now, but make the next rule ‘no jealousy?’” you offer as you type in the next rule.

“Okay, that sounds good.” he says, nodding slowly in agreement. “Next rule?”

“Um, no romantic gestures? Like, no buying each other special gifts you wouldn’t buy for another friend, no flowers, no making each other romantic playlists—stuff like that.” you say, and he looks off into the distance pensively.

“What about pet names?” he asks warily, and you half-sigh, half-laugh.

“Haechan, I think you would pop a blood vessel if you had to restrain yourself from calling me pet names.” you state, and, eyes wide, he nods vigorously in agreement, making you laugh.

“It’s true!” he insists, and your laughter grows.

“I know! That’s why I said it,” you giggle as you type in the next rule, and he starts to chuckle before joining in on your laughter. “So pet names are fine, but—”

“But?” he asks hesitantly.

“‘No PDA’ should definitely be a rule.” you suggest. “It’d definitely blow our cover.”

“Okay… agreed.” Haechan says slowly, his subsequent nod more confident than his words.

You type in the new rule and sit back, regarding the list carefully. Haechan peers over your shoulder at your phone screen, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Does this look good to you? Do you think we’re missing anything?”

“No, I think it’s perfect,” he says, sounding sure of himself, and that’s enough to comfort you.

“Well, great!” you say, taking a screenshot of the list and texting it to him. His phone pings on the kitchen table with your incoming text, and he looks at it briefly before tucking it into his pocket. You rise to your feet, Haechan straightening back up as you stand, and turn to face him, extending your hand. “Wanna shake on it?”

He takes your hand with a small smile, lips quirked up in amusement before he looks up at you and tugs gently, pulling you against his chest. “Honestly? I’d rather kiss on it.”

You blink twice, stunned slightly by the sudden intimacy, but you nod. “We can do that.”

He grins, tilting his head and nudging your nose with his gently. “Good,” he breathes before he kisses you. It doesn’t take long for his hands to move, one hand cupping your jaw and the side of your neck while his other arm wraps itself around you, resting on the small of your back as he pulls you in close. His lips mold with yours so smoothly that it’s like you’ve been doing this for a lifetime, but every nip and suck from him winds you up even more than you thought possible, making for a beautiful combination: all of the comfort, no stilted awkwardness, with all of the excitement.

When you two finally break apart, it’s for air, your hand gently resting on his chest, still clutching his shirt—you don’t even know when you started doing that—as you both attempt to catch your breath.

“Good talk,” you pant, and he grins.

“Great talk.” he agrees breathlessly. “I actually have to go home to work on a code for this new program we’re building, but I’ll see you? Hopefully before our trip to Fire Island with everyone else, but if not, then I’ll text you?”

“It’s kind of criminal that you have to do work on a Sunday when you have actual work days to work on stuff.” you say with a pout, releasing his shirt and gently smoothing out the small wrinkles you caused. “Yeah, I’ll see you for the Fire Island trip.”

“I know.” he agrees with a frown. “Alas—not all of us can make it in life by being cute and likable.” he teases, and you shoot him an empty glare, making him laugh. “But I’ll see you soon, pretty girl.” he says, thumb carefully brushing your cheek.

“Okay,” you hum, trying your best to avoid leaning into his touch and closing your eyes.

“Later,” he says, reluctantly releasing you and walking backwards to your front door until he bumps into the corner he has to go around, a sheepish chuckle escaping him as he waves once, turning and exiting your apartment after you wave back.

Now alone, you look at the list you two compiled, carefully reading over each word.

1. No cuddling. 2. No sleepovers after sex. 3. No jealousy. 4. No romantic gestures. 5. No PDA.

They seem like simple enough rules to follow; straightforward and to the point, carefully designed so you don’t blur the lines too much between platonic and romantic.

But, given the way he embraced you earlier and the way you so badly wanted him to stay longer, you can’t help but wonder if the lines were already blurred to begin with.

tada!!! i hope you enjoyed, and stay tuned for part two, coming out on wednesday, december 11th!

DON’T WANNA WAIT? parts two and three are currently posted on my patreon here :)

#haechan smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #donghyuck smut #donghyeok smut #lee donghyeok smut #lee haechan smut #lee donghyuck smut #haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #donghyeok x reader

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kissforyouu · 16 days ago

Text

too much ☆

pairing : sugar daddy!jungkook x fem!reader

genre : smut , fluff

warnings : sugar daddy x sugar baby relationship , implied age gap (reader 20s, jk 30s) , size kink, BIGGGG DDDD (9 inches) , choking , groping , d riding , daddy kink , hickeys , slapping , creampie , panty sniffing , use of petnames (angel, doll, baby, sweetheart) , he talks u thru it , squirting , anal penetration , slight dacryphilia , he gets off to her orgasming , the whole point is he’s too big for her

Today was the day.

You’re so determined to do it. You can do it. Yes, you can.

You were fully prepared, laying on your sugar daddy's expensive ass master bed, wrapped in white lace like a little present for him to unwrap. You looked as if you were a sweet angel fallen into his room filled with all things black and the only thing light being the white walls. And the little parts of you you'd leave hanging around. like makeup, books, clothes, etc. etc.

Too excited, that's what you were. but also nervous, in a way, but you had one goal for tonight. And that was to fit your sugar daddy's cock inside and ride him.

There was a very evident size difference between the two of you. Him being 6ft tall already gave it away, but to add to the list you stood at 5'2ft. He was big in every possible area you could think of, even his cock was massive. fuck. His palm could easily cover your asscheek perfectly without any flesh slipping out. He was a tall successful man with broad shoulders and a muscular body. Thick thighs, big arms—everything you liked in a man.

In addition to that, he was rich. So so rich that he offered you to be his sugar baby. You both met at the mall. So excitedly you went through all the cute dresses you could wear, but definitely not afford. You were still in college. No further explanation needed.

“Ah! this, er, maybe that? don't know!” You were on facetime with your friend, reviewing all the cute dresses you would buy if you had the money. Delusional!

“Nah, nah, nah, the purple one with butterflies would look so good on you!” Your friend squeals, making you squeal back. You might be making too much noise in ths store, but you didn't care.

“You know what would look good with this dress? a cute cardigan and I’d pair this up with some gold hoops."

“Hmm, sounds really pretty”, your friend answered.

“Wish i had the money though...” there was a pout formed on your lips when you look back at the prize tag.

Somehow, your friend ended up having to leave the call due to some work. You end the call, ready to exit the store with absolutely no bags whatsoever. But someone, a man, stops you.

And then he asks you the most out of the blue question ever.

“Want me to buy you that dress?”

That was how it all started. He offered you to become his sugar baby after a full day spent at the mall of him buying you random things. At first, you said no. But he gave you time to decide and also kept sending you gifts over and over. At the end, you agreed. To be fair, you expected him to be the most obscene, rude, horrid man ever. But he's actually...pretty nice. sweet. caring.

Your relationship was 50/50. All you had to do was to take care of that man emotionally, shower him with love which you'll gladly do and also have bomb ass sex with him and he'll pay off all your bills and buy you a shit ton of things in return. The sex wasn't even a topic brought up at first, he didn't need that kind of favour. Just needed a pretty baby to spoil who'll love him in return. The sex just happened on a random friday night. Ever since, you've been getting the best dick you've ever had in your entire life. But there was one problem.

He was too big.

And you were too small.

Sure, the sex was so good and he always made sure to make you cum at least twice each time. It was so good that you couldn't even count the stars rotating around your head each time you orgasmed. But one thing that always managed to bother you...was he satisfied? Because of the obvious size difference, it was hard to fit him inside. Most of the time you’d end up stopping him because it hurt. He won't even be fully in when that happens. Although he always reassured you that he's far more than satisfied with you, you still wouldn't buy it.

But today, you’re going to do it. Gonna make all of him fit inside and give him the orgasm he deserves.

You laid on your back with your eyes fixed on the pattern of the ceiling, feet kicking in the air as you mindlessly waited for him to return home.

But a flirtatious whistle catches you off guard. you immediately rise back up from the bed, eyes darting to the man leaning against the door frame looking at you with a smug look.

“Jungkook!” you squealed.

“Was wondering where you were.” He makes his way towards you.

“I was here.” you mumble.

“I can see...” he snorts.

He lifts you up to sit on the bed by his hands on your waist, then touching your bare stomach, right above the little lace skirt you were wearing.

“For me?” there's a little smug look on his face.

“Who else would it be for?” there’s a sly smirk on your face, batting your lashes as you spoke.

"hah, you little minx" he slaps your cheek with the back of his hand, soon cupping your chin and raising your head up.

"when did you buy this?" his thumb teasingly caresses your lower lip.

"mmm, last week. bought it when i went shopping with mina..."

jungkook snickers, thumb now poking in between your lips. instinctively, you open your mouth for him to easily slide his thumb in between. you let out a muffled giggle, swirling your tongue around his thumb.

you both had wide grins on eachother's faces, fully aware of where this was heading.

you choke on his entire thumb the moment he pushes it all in, his thumb and a part of his hand, stuffing your mouth full. with a little bit of drool slipping out of your mouth, you close your eyes with a hum, but jungkook pulls his hand out.

hurriedly, with a satisfied grin, jungkook begins to unbuckle his belt. but before he could move any further, you were quick enough to stop him, bringing confusion to his face.

"huh?"

"kook, the bed. get on the bed, please." you request.

jungkook raises his eyebrow as your unusual request, but still obeying. he removes his shoes first, then gets on the bed, legs spread and leaning against the headboard as he waits for your next move. you couldn't help but let out a small giggle, excitedly making your way to sit in between his legs.

jungkook, in the other hand, admist his confusion, still couldn't hold back the little smile that threatened to come out. let's just say...this relationship was more than just being a sugar daddy and sugar baby. for him, at least. he'd like to think so.

you push some of your hair back, brushing it along the way and letting it fall down your shoulders as you made yourself comfortable between his legs. pretty, jungkook thinks.

"what're you going to do?" he asks, voice as gentle as ever.

you let out a long hum, fingers struggling to open the zipper of his trousers. he was rock hard, so it was hard to get the zip down. ugh.

jungkook chuckles at your struggles, "want me to take it off for you?"

you shake your head in denial. no. you were gonna do everything tonight with no help from him. with the help of the strong mentality you've set on getting goal done, you manage to successfully pull the zipper off.

you sigh, relieved, but jungkook just laughs at you, almost mockingly.

"what?" you ask.

"nothing, baby, 'just love watching you trying to please me. you're gonna take my cock tonight? hm?" the corner of his lip curves up.

"hmmmm, yes" you're moaning.

jungkook snorts, as if he's not believing you. but he takes off his trousers and boxers, leaving his lower body bare. you're gulping while staring at his erect cock, finally free from the restraints of his white calvein klein boxers. he's already leaking precum.

you lean forward, taking his fat cock in your hands, giving it a few pumps. smearing the precum all over the tip, you use it as lube, pumping his cock again. it barely fits in your hands. you have to use both your hands to hold it.

your ass was up, back slightly arched as you took his cock in your mouth. a muffled moan immediately escapes you, as you slowly slowly take him in deeper in your mouth inch by inch. fuck, was it hard. suddenly getting the urge to cough, you quickly pull him off of your mouth and turn your head around to cough.

"shit, you okay, doll?"

nodding your head in embarrassment, you take hold of his cock again to leave kitten licks all over it. you begin by licking the tip of his cock, swiping your tongue over the small alleyway of his cockhead several times. jungkook hisses at the feeling, eyes droopy. happily, you're licking all over his shaft as if it's your favourite ice cream.

you lick a long stripe up his shaft again, then circling your tongue on the dent in his cockhead. pulling away to spit on his cock, you rub your saliva all over the base with both your hands, then taking his cock in your mouth again.

you sink it down your throat further, slobbering all over his cock, saliva gushing out of your mouth and covering his cock full. his hand instinctively lands on the back of your head, caressing your hair and giving your scalp a subtle massage.

you were so beautiful, he thought.

slowly, you move your head up and down his length, sucking his cock in your mouth. his cock repeatedly hits the back of your throat, causing him to let out a few grunts from here and there. he was surprisingly very vocal during sex. and that just got you even wetter.

"mhm, that's right. taking my cock well, huh? taught you good?" his free hand taps your cheek, feeling his cock against your cheek. your cheeks were hollow, your face felt hot. it was obviously heating up, and so was your pussy. jungkook's hand leaves the back of your head to touch your other cheek, both hands holding up your face now as you took him in your mouth. he grunts, releasing another breath.

you slurp up your saliva on his cock only to spit it back, swiping your tongue on his base. you bob your head on his cock, enjoying all of his moans to the fullest. his thumbs swipe over your cheeks repeatedly, wiping away the small tears that are falling down.

"bet you're soaking right now, hm? fhuck—i can imagine how pretty your panties look right now. drenched and sticking to your pussy? isn't that right, angel?"

you hurry to nod your head, still sucking him in your mouth. fuck, you were so cockdrunk. jungkook knew exactly how to get you riled up. the small touches and caresses, holding your face and hair, he knew you liked that. of course he did. he knew your body like the back of his hand.

"yeah?" he acknowledges your nodding, petting your head. you try to best to flash him a smile, moaning in between. "that's right." his palm lays flat on top of your head again as he pushes your head back down on his cock, his cockhead hitting the back of your throat again.

you're pretty sure it's gonna bruise there.

up! down! up! down! you go, warming his cock up by the insides of your mouth. your right hand is wrapped around the rest of his cock that you can't fit while the other squeezed his balls.

the harder jungkook pushed the more you gagged on his cock. it felt suffocating, but you knew jungkook would never do anything to hurt you. you're whining, clawing his thighs. your eyes rolled to the back of your head followed by a series of cusses coming from jungkook's mouth.

"ohhh, oh, hah, fuck, fuck." his head is thrown back against the headboard of the bed. he lets out a whiny little moan, spilling his load into your mouth. jungkook wipes away your tears once you slip his cock out of your mouth with a pop, reassuring you on how well you did.

"you did so well, angel. took my cock so good." he pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail to raise your head back up. you looked so fucked out just from his dick in your mouth. it was definitely a huge ego boost for him. as much as he loved seeing you pretty and dolled up for him, this look on you has got to be one of his favourites. naked, sweaty and fucked out from his dick. you were so pretty.

"hmm...", he groans, hand sliding up from your left breast to the back of your neck, pulling you on top of him so that you'd be sitting on his lap. "liked having a mouth full of cock?" he grins mockingly, left arm folded on his back as he rests back on it. you nod your head, eyes still closed. the man chuckles, wiping away the drool on your face and chest. he makes sure to wipe his hand on your asscheek also, then slapping it afterwards.

"good now?" he checks up on you.

"yes. all good." you flash him a toothy smile with a thumbs up. jungkook smiles, tongue poking his cheek. "c'mere." he pulls you closer by your waist and securely wraps his right arm around you. your cheek was resting against his peck while he caressed your hair, giving your scalp a few massages here and there.

jungkook trails kisses from the back of your ear down to your neck, darting his tongue out to lick some areas known to make you moan. "let me take care of you, doll."

your sugar daddy gently lays down your body on the bed, hovering over you quickly. he takes a moment to stare down at you, a stupid little smile brightening up his face. you raise your eyebrow, quick to pick up on that. "what? why're you smiling like that?" you ask.

"why not?" jungkook snickers, he pinches the tip of your cheek, thumb gently caressing it afterwards. you feel your cheeks heat up. leaning into his touch, you smile a little.

jungkook lifts you hips up, angling his cock with your entrance and you almost— almost forget your plan. immediately, you halt and place your hand on his chest with a shake of your head.

"why? something wrong?"

you nod your head, gently pushing the man back.

"what're you doing?" you shush him up with your index finger pressed against his lips and shaking your head. jungkook raises his eyebrow.

"i wanna ride you."

jungkook just stares at you as if you've just told him the craziest thing ever, eyes wide as well. stop. this is making you feel embarrassed. what if he just laughs at you?

"what, you're gonna ride me now?" jungkook couldn't help but laugh a little, but immediately shutting himself up when he sees the frown on your face. "okay, sorry, sorry."

"yeah, i am." your voice came out almost inaudible. you felt so small in his large presence. with his big eyes boring into yours, you feel put on the spot. like. like everyone's looking at you holding a mic to your mouth expecting you to talk.

the corner of his lip slightly twitches up, then he breaks into a smile. big hands land on your hips and effortlessly drags you closer to him, he then lifts your chin up, thumb swiping over your lower lip. "sure you won't hurt yourself?"

"yes, daddy. not gonna hurt." jungkook chuckles at the nickname, finding it amusing. you both never really used the name daddy, just once or twice. although, you can't deny how the nickname gets you feeling sort of...thrilled? aroused? jungkook could say the same.

"daddy, huh?" he clicks his tongue.

you nod your head with a small hum, raising your body up to sit on your knees. "lie down, please."

jungkook listens to your request with a teasing smirk on his face. hah, you wanted to fuck that smirk off of him soooooo bad. he lies down on the bed with two pillows supporting his back and makes himself comfortable. he raises his eyebrow watching your puzzled expression, trying really hard to read your face. his legs are spread, fat cock rock hard and leaking that precum you love so much. you gulp down the drool that was already pooled up in your mouth, eyes darting between jungkook's eyes and his cock.

"what're you waiting for? come fuck me, girl."

and you do.

gliding yourself over his muscular thighs, you settle yourself on top of him, your thighs on each side of his waist. you avert your gaze down to his massive cock, twitching with pre cum leaking from the tip, impatiently waiting for you. you take a long deep breath before raising your body over his thighs, then angling your pelvis over his cock. wrapping your hand around his base, you teasingly rub the tip on your folds. jungkook tugs on his lower lip as your pussy twitches against his tip, both your juices slightly mixed with eachother. you raise your hips up again and this time, a string of wetness appears connecting your hole and his reddened tip.

"fucking nasty. you're soaking." jungkook couldn't help but reach out to touch your pussy one more time. you groan once his thumb harshly rubs on your clit while his fingers sunk into your pussy for a moment. he pulls them out before you could even enjoy the feeling, ending it with a slap on your clit. "go on. get on this dick."

jungkook was such a slut.

the moment you finally sink yourself in, or try to, both of you let out a soft gasp, taking in how genuinely tight it felt.

"god, kook...mh", your chest heaved up and down as you balanced yourself, still not fully sunk in his dick yet. you move your hand down there to spread your pussy lips a little further apart, then pushing yourself down a little further.

jungkook stayed silent watching you struggle for a few seconds before deciding to step in. "you okay? want help?" his fingers caressed from your waist to hips, trying to soothe you. you whine, frustrated, ugh—

"i can't. can't do this—mh, too big!"

you give up.

jungkook clicks his tongue, clearly disappointed. he shakes his head, disapproving your decision. "come on, baby. 'know you can do this. you're a hardworking girl. it's okay."

"no, no, no, ahh, can't." you shake your head in denial.

"tsk. no. you're gonna do this. slap my thigh if it's too much, m?" a tear escapes your eye as you finally agree to proceeding to pursue your initial goal. jungkook decides to lend a helping hand by rubbing your clit in various patterns slowly to get you wetter and make it easier for you. "better not cum."

"hmm...", you moan out.

with your throbbing clit being rolled in between the tip of the big man's fingers, you sink your hips down his much bigger dick, eyes widening at the newfound sensation.

"SHIT— oh, mm!" his tip hit your g spot, causing your entire body to tremble a little. the action makes jungkook laugh cockily, his lips forming into a mocking pout.

"gonna cum already? my dick only had to get in? you're that needy?" he slaps your cheeks lightly. you give him nothing but a small enticing glare. jungkook groans and taps your hips as a signal for you to get moving.

your knees buried deep into the bed sheets, you steady yourself before guiding your hips up and down slowly. honestly, it hurt. your walls were so mushy and tight, firmly gripping the base of his cock.

"ah, loosen up, angel. if not, you'll make me cum just from that tightness—shiii."

you try to loosen up your pussy hole, relaxing your entire body but ugh, you just can't do it. with a whine, you continue thrusting yourself downwards on his cock. jungkook adjust himself to you fully— your pussy felt soooo full. so fucking stuffed. his tip reached your womb. you didn't even know having him this deep could be possible. it hurt so bad, yet it felt so good. jungkook's hand reaches behind your back to grab the flesh of your ass and mold it into his liking, slapping and pulling on the flesh.

by now you've learnt how to sit on his dick fully inside. and now, you're doing to fuck it.

"h-haaa—" a breathy moan surpasses through as you begin riding his dick, your walls tightly squeezing in his fat base. your moves were slow and careful, careful trying not to hurt yourself too much. it already hurt so bad, no—burnt. your pussy felt as if it was burning, overwhelmed by the size of his dick. you squeeze your eyes shut, suddenly remembering why you've never tried fully taking him in. cause your cunt was too small! and fuck! does it hurt!

still, you try, brushing away the second thoughts. the skin slapping noises grew louder each thrust as you let his cock hit deeper and deeper areas. jungkook was in pure ecstasy. the most attractive woman he's ever seen (he would never never reveal that to you) is riding his dick. he loved every second of it.

his hands cup your tits through the sheer fabric of your skimpy lingerie, thumbing your nipples hard. he could feel your nipples grow harder, he just could. which drove him crazy. jungkook's thumbs swipe on your nipples, swirling the bud around too. the bridge of his nose brush against your collarbone as he leans his face closer to your neck, whispering sweet nothings.

"i fucking love watching you struggle like this." you grip onto his wrist tightly, twisting it around with your nails digging deep into his skin and probably creating scars. thankfully for your wet slick, it progressively got easier for you to slide up and down.

"take this off. mm, now." his fingers toyed with the straps of your skimpy ass top, tugging on the fragile material and pulling on it. you groan, hurriedly taking off the annoying ass top and throwing it away to let it land on wherever.

you breasts were fully bare for him, big and juicy, nipples hard as fuck. you were such an eye candy. he loved—liked everything about you. so fucking hot. he could go insane.

your jaw falls open, shoulder pushed back and chest popped out as you rode his dick. such a pornographc sight. your tits bounced along with each of your jumps. puffy clit rubbing against his pelvis with each thrust of your hips, his dark pubic brushing against your clit, creating some sort of friction as well. fuuuck.

jungkook caresses your hips, fingertips also dancing across your asscheeks, bringing you a relaxing feeling amidst the heavy workout you're putting yourself through. you slam yourself onto his dick, pussy quite literally splitting into two. you've never fucked someone this hard. this is so crazy, you're actually taking him— you gasp, letting yourself feel out his dick fully.

fuckfuckfuck you could feel his dick tightly smuggled inside your chubby cunt, feeling out the tight clasp of your walls as you literally squeezed him shut. shit, you're scared he wouldn't be able to pull out even. you're squeezing him that tightly. you hold onto his broad shoulders, long manicured nails digging into the skin, probably—most probably leaving marks. you inhale in the musky scent he always has once he gets back from work. you loooveeee it.

"please, i—literally—like, fawwkkkk jungkook!" jungkook hisses, hands messily searching for the discarded dirty panties on the side of the bed. he finally finds them and brings them upto his nose to take a long sniff out of it. a looongg nasty sniff. "you're so dirty, daddy."

his eyes drift from the dirty material to yours in a second. he quickly dropped it off and snakes his arms from under your thighs to hoist you up the bed. you squeel in surprise, arms immediately wrapping around his neck for stability. jungkook looks at you from below, big doe eyes glistening at you as you stared back. you giggle a little once you feel his hand slap your asscheek and grab it again.

jungkook leans forward to envelope your lips in a sweet kiss. you sigh in content, kissing him back passionately as your tongues swirled on eachother. you both were eating out eachothers face so good. moving your heads rhythmically in sync while your nails scratched his back real good. you exchanged saliva, head tilting to various sides as you shared a sloppy messy kiss. so fucking hot.

"mmh, put it in...", you try to reach behind your back and grab his dick but jungkook beats you to it, swatting your hand away. he grips his cock, squeezing the red tip with a hiss. "inside me, daddy." his mind feels fuzzy as he slides his dick inside you again. this time, it enters pretty easy, much easier than before. well, since you're well lubricated and all. you both moan in sync, shoulders dramatically falling down as he fills you up again. you hug his muscular body, gliding up and down his dick once again. second time feels much better than last. shiiiit.

"you're so big. i—" you sigh deeply, whole cunt swallowing his fat dick. "hm, it slips in so easily now." you grunt into his neck, trying to adjust yourself. "yeah, cause you're slippery as shit."

"c'mon, sweetheart." he pats your back as you start over, again. you begin riding his dick once more, this time gripping onto the head of the bed and his head. "you know you're doing so good, yeah? never been more proud of you." you could feel the bone of his nose poke your neck as he inhales your sweaty scent in. jungkook presses tiny kisses all over your neck, down to your collarbone. little kisses all over your collarbone. little hickeys forming all over your collarbone ૮꒰ ⊃ ⸝⸝ ⊂ ꒱ྀིა

yeah you know what, maybe you overestimated yourself. fuck does this hurt. did your pussy get smaller or what. you were squeezing him so tight. so fucking tight.

"koo— haaarrd... 'm struggling." you grunt into his neck.

"lemme take over, then."

"wha—no. i'm fucking you." you refuse his offer quite literally right away.

"you're barely holding on. can't even keep my dick inside without moving around. hm?" he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, squeezing your cheeks together mockingly. he treated you as if you were a feeble little being who couldn't even complete the simplest task.

nothing simple about this dick.

he made sure his dick was perfectly tucked inside, ready to absolutely break you apart on it.

your pussy suddenly starts pulsating, clenching around his dick repeatedly. jungkook lets out a gruff moan, palm slapping against your waist.

"stop fucking clenching. you gonna cum, yeah? is that what this is?"

"mmmhm, i don't want to cum." you break into a whine into his shoulder. "'s okay, just let it out on me, yeah?" he sneaks his arm in between you guys and sticks his thumb out on your very swollen clit. you flinch once he starts rubbing your clit, and in no time, you cream his dick.

"fuck, no, i—i don't want to cum yet." you punch his arm and bite his shoulder, agitated that he just had to make you cum. "i wanted to make you cum first. fuck you." "too bad. i barely even moved."

"are you making fun of me?"

"maybe."

you tug on his hair and bite his arm as revenge.

"i haven't cum yet. did you forget?" he pulls on your hair.

"you know that i wanted to ride you." you huff,

"and you did."

"barely." you roll your eyes, snuggling closer into him, face nuzzled into his neck.

"yeah, my bad my dick's too big."

"you're so over the head."

"okay, but we both know i'm right."

"my vagina is burning."

jungkook pinches the top of your ass and flips you over so that you'd be laying on your back. the sudden movement catches you off guard as you yelp in surprise.

"ow! that hurt."

jungkook doesn't respond to you, but slowly, carefully, pulls his dick out of you. he's still rock hard. you're not surprised.

"you said you wanted to make me feel good, yeah?" he caresses the side of your face, moving away each and every hair sticking to your face. gentle kisses all over your face, cheek, nose, eyes—he suddenly stops, the eye contact between you two breaking the moment he looks away. your breath hitch, there's a tingling feeling all over your body, it felt like the tip of a feather gracing over your face.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Mhm.”

Jungkook squeezes the fat of your belly with a soft kiss on top and suddenly—he was so sly with it too—enters his dick inside your cunt again. “AH!”, you yelp out due to the sudden waves of pain and pleasure sent right from your swollen fucking pussy.

“Come on, girl, take it. I know you can—haah.”

He plunges his dick deep in you with a hard thrust and immediately going at it. He didn’t stop. No he did not. Jungkook rutted into your wet cunt like an animal in heat, desperate to hear the high pitch moans coming out of your swollen lips.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, back arched and gasps left your lips repeatedly. It hurt so bad. Your pussy was fucking burning. It hurt so bad that it felt so good. He’s never done this before. He’s never probably been inside you fully. You swore to the heavens above that your cunt was already torn apart. There was no way.

“Jungkook—mmhphhhhhhhhhttttt!!! It hurts so much! Stop, ah, fuck!”

You raise your legs up, slinking them around his toned sweaty fucking torso. Jungkook grabbed a handful of your meaty thighs, using the fat for support to cling onto you more.

“Please! Stopstopstopstop it hurts so much!”

You didn’t actually want him to stop. You would’ve used to the safe word if so, you and him both knew that very well.

Jungkook grunts in annoyance with a slap on your ass to shut you up.

“Shut up and take my fucking dick. You wanted this. Finish what you’ve started. Take my fucking dick like you said you would!”

He was so big.

“You’re a big girl made for taking big fucking cocks like mine, yeah?”

Without a warning, his palms slap against both your asscheeks before hoisting your entire body up into his arms. Jungkook had you on top of his thighs, carrying your entire weight on his arms as he thrusted from below. His thrusts were so harsh and aggressive with the intention of only wrecking your pussy apart. You were bounced on his cock like a ragdoll. He used you for his pleasure, letting his cock mold the insides of your pussy to the perfect shape that'll fit him always.

"I'm not letting this pussy go now. Hah", he rocks your body upwards again, letting you fall onto his. you cling onto his body for dear life, arms wrapped around his neck, breasts bouncing in front of his face. you could feel his balls slap against your ass repeatedly. they were wet, slimey and sticky. he spread the stickyness on his balls everywhere, constantly reminding you of the fact that he was deep inside you now. like, finally.

"da-ddy! i can't believe you're fucking me like t-this."

you close your eyes tight, your nails gripping onto jungkook's scalp as you let out a scream.

"please, oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD! i'm g'na- HAAH!"

jungkook recognizes the familiar high pitched sound you make, hand sneakily rubbing your puffy clit again. and as a cherry on top, he spreads your ass cheeks apart and sneaks his thumb in between to penetrate your neglected tight little hole. he rubs your hole and inserts the tip of his finger in, repeating the process after. You were so tight down there, considering the fact that you were still an ass virgin. He always said he was gonna take your ass sometime, but you always said no. This was your first time. Fuck.

The finger in your ass caught you off guard as you let out a shriek, your asshole immediately tightening at the sensation.

“Jung…hah. My ass—hhnmpht!”

He shushes you up with a kiss and got into work, rubbing your swollen little clit with his right hand and finger your tight asshole with his left hand, all while his cock absolutely ruined you from below.

“Stop! Too much! Too much! Too much!”

You slobber all over his shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably as your entire body shiver and crumble against him. You didn’t have to tell Jungkook once, he knew you were just about to cum.

“Cum, baby. Let go. You’ve done amazing.” He fastens his pace on your clit, giving you just enough simulation.

“Ah! I’m g’na pee! FuckfuckfuckfuckSTOP!!”

You let out one more loud cry before aggressively trembly. Your pussy is so used and swollen and your ass hurts so much. Fuck. It didn’t take that long till your pussy starts squirting angrily. Your eyes widen, back arching as you let your pussy take full control of your body.

Jungkook pulls out of you for a brief moment to let you squirt wherever. His hand never left your clit though, continuing to rub at an increased speed. Your pussy convulses aggressively, squirting on everything and everywhere. The sheets behind you were fully drenched with your squirt and so was his dick, that was right under you.

“I’m sorry I’m making a mess all over your bed,” you cry into his shoulder, completely overwhelmed with everything that’s happening.

You’re still squirting. You don’t know if you’re actually squirting or just straight up pissing yourself on him. This was so embarrassing. Your face was so red. This is so humiliating fuckfuckfuck.

“I’m so”—you choke,“—embarrassed. Ahh, I’ve ruined everything.” You cry out, covering your face with your hands. Jungkook understood that this was an intense moment for you. You’ve squirted before, but never this hard. He soothes you by bringing you into his embrace, tracing patterns on your back to help you calm down.

You choke on your tears again. You were crying so much. You’ve never cried this much during sex before. As concerned he was for you, he was starting to admit he liked that sight. He liked it when you were crying out for him.

You let out the last bit of squirt on his cock, drenching him fully. Jungkook’s cock twitches, it’s angry head starting to let out spurts of cum.

Fuck, he couldn’t believe it. He was cumming. He was cumming so hard from just watching you orgasm. He was getting off to your orgasm.

“Fuck. Shit. Oh my god”, Jungkook groans. He throws his head backwards, letting his cum spurt out as you squeezed his balls. There was a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead as his face changed into various expressions as he emptied his balls into your mouth.

You made sure to put your mouth on it and let his cum fall right onto your tongue, just how he liked it. And you also made sure to swallow it all, just how he liked it.

You were still getting off of your high as well, body still crumbled against his.

“It’s okay, babygirl”, Jungkook coos into your ear and soothingly rubs your pussy slowly with your palm till you calm down.

“It stings”, you whine.

“Hmm, I know, baby. Take a deep breath.”

You obey him, taking a deep breath as he wiped off your tears. You sniffle. Your pussy was still throbbing and hole gaping. Fuck. You’re gonna stay stretched like this for a while. He ripped you apart.

“My gorgeous girl. You did so well.” He presses a kiss to your temple. “I can’t believe I fucking came to you squirting”, he chuckles.

“I wanted you to cum in my pussy.” You whine, spreading your pussy lips apart once again.

“I know. But this is more than enough. You know I get off to your orgasms.” He swats your hand away.

“Let her rest.” Jungkook leans down to press a kiss to your swollen worn out pussy.

You cry out, scooting closer to him.

Jungkook then picked you up, took you to the bathroom, made you pee, and brought you back to bed after changing the sheets.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

What?

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts #bts jk #bts smut #jungkook smut #smut #jungkook x you #x yn #jungkook fluff #jungkook au #jeon jungkook #fiction

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always-just-red · 4 months ago

Note

A multi-headcanon request please. How the boys react when they discover their s/o has been hiding a wound from them because she had it under control and didn't want to give them something else to worry about

Hi! Thanks so much for the request and all the support! Have written a little fic for each of the guys, starring... - Xavier, Deepspace Hunter extraordinaire ✨ - Linkon's worst best baking partner, Zayne 🍪 - Drama queen Rafayel 👑 - King of self-care, Sylus 💅

Putting On A Brave Face

L&DS Boys x Reader

Summary: Sometimes, a certain hunter likes to say things are fine when they definitely aren't...

Genre: A lil bit of angst, mostly fluff + comfort!

Warnings/Additional tags: female reader, established relationship, swearing, canon pet names, some injury details/blood mentioned, teeeeency bit of suggestion (I'm looking at YOU, Sylus...)

| Word count: 4k (1k each!) | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Xavier ⭐

This is bad. Not ‘end of everything as we know it’ bad, but definitely ‘an obscene amount of paperwork’ bad.

You clutch one of your pistols to your chest— deep breath— and you listen carefully, your head leant back against the rock you’re using as cover. Your mind latches on to every sound: each growl, each rumble of earth that marks the movements of the Wanderers that have trapped you here.

You’ve fought worse odds, but then again, you don’t usually have to do it with a broken leg.

Or maybe just sprained? You shift a little, trying to move, and the pain that sears through you settles the debate in an instant. Your teeth sink into the back of your hand to keep you from crying out.

You hope Xavier’s ok. You sent him your co-ordinates minutes ago, and the lack of response has worry gnawing away at the deepest parts of you. You check your hunter’s watch.

Still nothing.

Another deep breath, and you readjust your position as much as you can. Balancing on your good leg, you manage to peer over the top of the rock to get a visual of your surroundings.

There’s four, no— five Wanderers. Stupid no-hunt zone; you’re never not outnumbered.

You can see your second pistol, abandoned in the middle of the clearing where you’d dropped it. There’s flickers of movement, too: further in the woods. More Wanderers. Shit.

You duck behind the rock you’re starting to think might be your new home. Then your watch flickers, broadcasting a map of the area, and there’s the co-ordinates of another hunter, closing in fast.

Something flashes in the clearing, lighting the dark of the forest like a stutter of lightning. Then again. Then again. There’s a blood-curdling roar, and it ends— abrupt— with another flash.

Everything goes silent, save for a familiar voice calling your name.

“Xavier!” you call back.

You peek over the rock to see your partner jogging towards you, dead Wanderers littered behind him. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft as always, but his sword is still dripping blood.

“I’m ok.” You clamber up, using the rock as a seat when the small effort almost breaks you. “You?”

Xavier draws close— his gloved hands on your face, cupping your cheeks. His thumb grazes over a shallow scrape on your brow. “Yeah,” he answers.

“Did you find that weird Wanderer?”

He shakes his head: no. Steps back to check his watch. “It’s probably moved on to a different zone by now.”

“Then we should look for it,” you say, standing up. All of your weight is on one leg.

“Ah,” Xavier ponders, rubbing his neck, “really? I thought we should maybe head back.”

“No need.” And what’s the plan here, exactly? You can’t walk. You definitely can’t fight. Maybe you can wait here while he— no. He’s never going to leave you. “I told you I’m ok.”

“But you’re not.”

“I am,” you assert. You’re determined to convince him and your own, useless body. It’s just a sprain. It is just a sprain. You take a step forwards and stumble, your bad leg crumpling beneath you.

Xavier catches you, strong and solid, and he's holding you like you’re something delicate. He sets you down on the rock again. The pain is making your vision swim.

“You’re hurt,” he reasons gently, even though the truth of it is a knife that’s twisting in your heart. He seems to sense your reluctance: “There’s no shame in admitting that. It happens. Let’s go back.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m slowing you down, Xavier!” you gush. Your heart is split open and it has to bleed somewhere. “You have no idea what it’s like… being your partner.”

He’s looking at you with so much guilt and gods, you wish that somewhere was anywhere but his hands. “What do you mean?” he asks on a shaky breath.

“I love working with you.” Soften the blow. “I love being with you, but you don’t need me. You’re this incredible hunter. This figure of legend, of everyone’s stories. You can do so much on your own and I just don’t know how to keep up. I mean, look at me— I can’t.”

You feel sick. Empty. “You shouldn’t have to hang back for me,” you finish limply. “You’re you, Xavier. You can fight like a hundred Wanderers and still come out unscathed.”

The blue of Xavier’s eyes has grown understandably more turbulent, though it settles a little. He seems to relax. “Yeah… about that,” he mumbles hesitantly.

He turns around and your mouth drops. A savage cut drapes like a crimson sash down his back, splitting the white of his uniform. It’s not deep enough to be fatal, but it’s not good, either.

“Wha— Xavier!” you exclaim, trying to surge forwards, but your pain keeps you rooted. “You said you were ok!”

“So did you,” he frowns, bewildered. “Can we get out of—”

“Yeah, yeah.” You let him take your arm and help you to your feet.

He leads you through the clearing and into the forest, supporting your weight as you hop along beside him. There’s a murmur about how he should carry you, but you’re quick to reassure him he’s doing enough. You’re both hurting; you both just need to survive the short walk out of the no-hunt zone, where a med team can take over.

“You don’t slow me down, you know,” Xavier says quietly, after a minute of silence. “You’re the reason I can keep going.”

You squeeze his arm affectionately, mustering a smile even though you’re nauseous with pain and the idea that he’s been dwelling on your speech this whole time. “Well,” you chuckle through gritted teeth, “you’re gonna have to learn how to get by without me.”

“Huh?” He gives you a curious look.

You glance down at your leg. “Zayne’s gonna kill me...”

Zayne ❄

“I’m a doctor.”

You stop what you’re doing to fix Zayne with a questioning stare. “Ok…?”

“I’ve published dozens of research papers. Pioneered new surgical techniques. My work on Evol-based regenerative properties still has lasting implications for my field, and I’ve the accolades to show for it. The Starcatcher Award. The Linde Award, too— I was the youngest ever recipient.”

None of this is news to you, and you can’t help chuckling at this change in your usually-humble physician. You humour him: “The youngest ever recipient, huh?” There’s a crack as you split an egg on the side of the bowl in front of you. “That’s very impressive.”

“Is it?”

Zayne stands from his seat at your kitchen table: you hear the chair draw back. You feel his presence arrive behind you as you continue to stir your soon-to-be cookie dough. “Yeah,” you lilt with a smile.

“Really?” he pushes again, and his arms wrap around you as he bends to speak into your ear. “Because someone seems to think I can’t even recognise a—” he nips at it— “sprained ankle.”

His breath is warm on your neck and you let out a giggle. “Keep speaking to me like that and these cookies are never making it into the oven. Or your stomach.”

The man relents. He releases you, not returning to his seat but opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. You glance up at him; he stares back, waiting for an actual answer.

“My ankle is fine, Zayne.”

There’s a sigh as he crosses his arms.

“It is,” you insist, even though you did sprain your ankle at work today, it does hurt like hell, and you do just want to sit down. You reach for the flour you’d measured out previously, tipping it into the larger bowl. “If it wasn’t, would I really be here— making you cookies?”

“Yes,” he says plainly.

“You’re delusional.”

“Ok.”

Well, that was a little too easy. Don’t overthink it, and definitely don’t read into the fact that he’s standing there oh-so-smugly, like he knows something you don’t. You finish stirring the flour into the mixture, then add the last of the ingredients. Just a pinch of salt, and then…

Where did you put the chocolate chips? You glance about yourself but they’re nowhere in sight. “Hey, Zayne? Have you seen the—”

“This cupboard,” he indicates with an upwards nod of his head. His eyes are relentless. “Top shelf.”

Ah. That’s ok. You’ve totally got this. You move beneath the cupboard, opening it and gazing up into the contents. You can see the pack of chocolate chips. You can get up there somehow, right?

“Would you like me to—” Zayne starts, but you cut him off:

“Nope.” You put your hands on your hips. “Please— if I can climb the back of an alive, awake, and very angry deluge wyrmlord to put a sword through its skull, I think I can make it onto the kitchen counter in one piece. Lemme just…”

Your knee lifts. You make it about a centimetre from the floor before Zayne’s hands are on your waist, grounding you. “Stop,” he instructs, and it's not a tone that allows for any rebuttal. Satisfied by your silence, he brings the chocolate chips down to you.

“Thanks,” you say quietly as they’re placed on the counter.

“You’re welcome."

Sheepishly, you spill a generous amount of chocolate chips into the cookie mixture. Your throat hurts in the way that keeps you from saying anything more. You already feel like an idiot, and your eyes are watering, threatening to make you look like even more of one.

Zayne’s hand appears in front of you, hovering over the bowl. You laugh in understanding: giving the half-empty bag another shake so chocolate chips fall into his palm.

“You… don’t have to explain yourself,” he says as he lifts them to his mouth. His next words are muffled: “But you can tell me anything, my love. I never want you to feel as though you can’t.”

You chuckle again; you can’t help yourself. Look at him: your oh-so-serious doctor shovelling chocolate into his mouth. He raises an eyebrow at you, his lips still on his palm.

“I know I can tell you anything,” you smile, the ache in your throat receding, however much the rest of you hurts. “I did sprain my ankle. It’s not that I wanted to hide it from you, it’s just—” you stop stirring the mixture— “it’s just that your whole life is taking care of people at the hospital. You should get a break from it. You should get to be Zayne, here… at home. Just Zayne, not Doctor Zayne.”

Zayne’s hazel eyes have taken on a hue of regret. He pushes his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, buying himself a few seconds as he contemplates. “Are you a doctor?” he asks after a moment.

“No?”

“And yet, here you are, taking care of me.” He reaches for the abandoned packet of chocolate chips. “Tell me, does it feel like work to you?”

“Yeah,” you tease, drawing the packet away from his stretching fingers in explanation; you’re both grinning.

“Well, it never feels like work to me. Just Zayne likes taking care of you. And right now? He wants to bundle you up on the sofa and finish these cookies for you.”

You purse your lips: that’s some dubious wording. “Zayne, hell will freeze over before I leave you and this cookie dough unsupervised.”

He shushes you, pulling on the cord of your apron until the bow at your back comes loose. Before you can protest, he’s wearing the apron himself.

“Zayne, I’m not kidding. I know what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna get rid of me, and then you’ll—”

“Shh,” he coos again, whisking you carefully off your feet, because it’s time for a taste of your own medicine. “You’re delusional.”

Rafayel 🔥

“Mmhmm. Mmhmm.”

“Raf, who are you—”

He holds out a finger to shush you. “Mmhmm.”

You cross your arms impatiently. Who is he even talking to, anyway? His lilac eyes are locked on you as he continues humming away, apparently very invested in whatever the person on the phone is saying; you’ve never seen him go this long without talking.

He narrows his eyes at you. You narrow your eyes right back.

All around you, guests of the exhibition are milling about, all dressed to the nines and minding their business, however much they want the attention of the man in front of you. A few of them linger as they pass him, like they want to say something, like they’re going to say something…

But they don’t.

It’s a wonder that Rafayel stands out in the crowd as much as he does. You’d seamlessly located him, back from your third trip to the bathroom to check on the bandages you’ve managed to conceal beneath this dress. He’s still holding your purse for you, his phone in his other hand, except—

That’s your phone. That’s your phone! “Rafayel!”

He shushes you again. “I understand,” he says solemnly, notably not to you, “thanks for letting me know.” The call is ended. He takes a deep, collected breath, then looks at you. “I knew it!”

“Knew what? Who was that?”

“Zayne.”

“You called Zayne?”

“Like I had a choice!” Rafayel retaliates. It is true; he’s spent the entire evening trying to get you to admit something was wrong, and you had no intention of giving him that pleasure. “You’re supposed to be in the hospital! What kind of idiot breaks out of the hospital?”

The lack of irony in the question almost breaks you. “Umm… you?! Like every other week?!”

He shrugs. “That’s different.”

“Rafayel, I swear, I’m gonna— ah!” you gasp in pain. You’d stepped forwards too quickly— maybe to strangle him, but that’s neither here nor there— and the wound on your side is clearly on his side. It stings like hell: punishing you, and you know the pain is self-inflicted.

Rafayel frowns in concern, maybe even guilt, and that’s why you didn’t tell him. “C’mon, we should go,” he insists gravely.

“It’s fine, Raf. It doesn’t even—”

“Stop lying! You said you wouldn’t hide stuff like this from me. You promised, remember?”

You’re losing track of all the promises you’ve made to the Lemurian, but you do remember that one. Guilt has its teeth in you, too. “I know,” you grumble, “I’m sorry, ok? I just knew—”

“What?”

“That you’d act like this! You’ve been working on this exhibition for months, Raf. Tonight is supposed to be about you. Not me— you. And I want it to stay that way. Everyone’s here to celebrate you and your work, and that’s how it should be. That’s what I want. To support you. To be here for you.”

Your voice has gone timid. You finish meekly: “Can’t you let me do this for you? Please?”

Rafayel’s eyes are wide and still the prettiest things you’ve ever seen, even in a room full of masterpieces and jewels you could never afford. They shine with uncertainty, but soften as he smiles, full of fondness and affection. “That’s sweet. But also? Really dumb.”

“Raf—”

“The only— and I mean only— reason I’m here tonight is because you are. I don’t care about what anyone thinks about me or my paintings. Just you. And you can see this?” He gestures around the gallery. “Anytime. My life’s your private exhibition, cutie. Exclusive access, 24/7, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He steps closer to you: close enough that he can see the tear that’s made it halfway down your cheek. He wipes it away with a chuckle. “Plus,” he adds, “I know you know I’m amazing. You don’t need these old sourpusses to tell you that, do you?”

You laugh tentatively. “No, I don’t.”

Your injury protests as you use the lapels on Rafayel’s blazer to pull him closer; you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He’s still grinning as he draws away, a light blush on his cheeks, but the sweetness of the moment vanishes as his gaze drifts lower.

“My eyes are up here, Rafayel.”

“Yeah…” he concedes mindlessly, but then he points: “you know you’re like, bleeding, right?”

You glance downwards to where the red of your dress is turning darker. There’s just a small splotch, but it’s growing. Shit. You must have reopened the wound.

“Thomas?” you hear Rafayel call, and then he’s stuffing a silk handkerchief into your hands— helping you apply pressure. “We have to get out of here,” he explains as a figure joins you.

His agent folds his arms; this is not dissimilar to stunts you and Rafayel have pulled before. “Fake blood, guys? Really?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You can’t leave, Rafayel. I can just see the headlines tomorrow…”

“Dashing artist selflessly flees exhibition to save devoted bodyguard,” Rafayel concurs with a nod.

Thomas groans. “That’s not what they’re going to—”

“Help me out with this, cutie?”

“Yes, sir,” you mock salute.

A moment later, Rafayel has scooped you up into his arms. Your hero; he gives you a conspiratorial wink before glancing about frantically. “Quickly!” he cries out. “Everyone out of the way, please!”

“For the love of—” Thomas starts.

“Oh, gods!” you shout in agony. “It hurts. It hurts!”

Heads turn. Cameras flash.

Tomorrow morning, half of Linkon will be talking about one of their favourite celebrities and his long-envied bodyguard. A news article will pop-up on her doctor’s phone, and he’ll see the pictures and sigh.

Sylus 🩸

“It’s not too late to back down, sweetie,” Sylus sneers.

“Aw, but you got all dressed up for the occasion.”

Your eyes rake over the outline of the man’s abs, courtesy of the tank top he’s wearing, and it does take the sting out of the fact that he’ll be trying to hit you. He holds his wrapped hands before him, ready to defend, ready to attack. He’ll probably attack, right?

“Last chance,” he growls.

“Is it, though?” This is the third ‘last chance’ you’ve been given in the five minutes you’ve been teetering on combat. You beckon him with a curl of your fingers. “Come on, Sylus. This is getting old.”

He scoffs: “How do you think I feel?”

“Like you’re about to get your ass kicked?”

“Alright, enough.” His hands drop and it feels like you’re back at the academy, about to be scolded for not taking something seriously. Sylus turns his back on you. Moves to the edge of the boxing ring so he can retrieve a stool from outside of it and sit down in a huff. He starts peeling the wraps from his knuckles, and— wait, is he mad? Like, actually mad?

“What’s wrong, Sy?”

He laughs as though you’re missing something dreadfully obvious. Maybe irony.

“Sylus?”

“You really are heartless, sweetie. You know that?”

The words steal your breath away, if only for a moment. Yours is a relationship of pulled punches, but he won’t meet your gaze and that one was real, wasn’t it? He wanted it to sting. “Why—”

“I could have hurt you,” he snaps, his dishevelled, snowy hair falling to cover his eyes. His discarded wraps slide from his hands, pooling by his feet like blood. “You were going to let me hurt you.”

He looks at you, finally, but it’s not in the way you want. His gaze is cast low, trailing over your body and making you feel every bruise, every closed cut that wants to reopen and every ache, rooted almost to bone. You’d done your best to hide it, even going so far as to press make-up hastily over your purpled skin.

That Wanderer really did a number on you yesterday.

“You should have told me,” Sylus says, since you’ve made it onto the same page. “Honestly, kitten. Why would you—”

“Because Luke and Kieran told me, ok?”

Oh, they’re going to kill you. It was supposed to be a secret, and here you are, spilling like a fresh wound because you can’t stand the thought of Sylus being upset with you. You step closer, scrambling to dissect what you’ve done right in front of his eyes— holding it out to him: this is why. This is why. “They said you had a rough week. Some deals of yours had fallen through or something. And I’ve been too busy. I haven’t called, I haven’t even texted, and…”

You need him to understand, but the truth is a mess in your hands and how do you even start to explain it to him?

“You wanted to do something for me,” he finishes for you, and you don’t have to explain a thing.

“Yeah…” you confirm, bittersweet and still sad. “You do so much for me, Sylus. I just wanted to do what you wanted, for a change.”

Maybe it’s a round of boxing. Maybe it’s a dozen illicit dealings where he needs you to play enforcer— it doesn’t matter. As long as he’s happy.

“Come here,” he orders gently.

You close the rest of the rift between you, letting him reach for you and pull you closer. His knees have spread so you can slot against him, and his arms circle around you— trapping you— as he nuzzles into the warmth of your stomach.

“I’m sorry I called you heartless,” he speaks into you, his voice muffled as he gives you a chaste kiss. He then cranes his head upwards, resting his chin against you so he can profess more clearly: “I do worry about you, kitten.”

“I know—” your hands move to his head— “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“Mmm,” he hums in accordance, maybe even forgiveness, and his eyes close as your fingers card through the soft of his hair. “I lied too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confesses on a contented sigh. “I didn’t want to spend today… boxing.”

“What do you want to do today, Sy?”

His eyes flicker open and his hands find your hips. “What I really want…” he contemplates, as his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt to rub circles on your skin, “is to take care of you.”

There are lifetimes of need in his gaze.

“Won’t you let me take care of you, sweetie?”

…

“If he finds the terms so disagreeable, then he’s more than welcome to take his business elsewhere. Although—” Sylus’s voice is cold— “he might find his other options less… amenable than when he saw them last. Less communicative, too. You can tell him I said so.”

He ends the phone call. Smiles. “Sorry about that, sweetie.”

“Are the boys ok?”

The smile widens, even though you can’t see it. “They’re fine.”

Phone set aside, Sylus carries on with the important business Kieran’s call had distracted him from. You’re half asleep, your head in his lap as he brushes your hair: rose-scented and soft from the bath he’d drawn for you, hours ago. Every bandage is fresh and clean. Every ache has been dulled with a lazy massage and more chaste kisses, for good measure.

“Perfect day,” you mumble blissfully.

“Perfect day,” Sylus agrees.

#🖋rach is actually writing #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #rafayel x reader #sylus x reader #love and deepspace #lads x reader #lads x mc #shen xinghui #li shen #qi yu #qin che #lads #lnds #l&ds

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hms-no-fun · 3 months ago

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Whats your stance on A.I.?

imagine if it was 1979 and you asked me this question. "i think artificial intelligence would be fascinating as a philosophical exercise, but we must heed the warnings of science-fictionists like Isaac Asimov and Arthur C Clarke lest we find ourselves at the wrong end of our own invented vengeful god." remember how fun it used to be to talk about AI even just ten years ago? ahhhh skynet! ahhhhh replicants! ahhhhhhhmmmfffmfmf [<-has no mouth and must scream]!

like everything silicon valley touches, they sucked all the fun out of it. and i mean retroactively, too. because the thing about "AI" as it exists right now --i'm sure you know this-- is that there's zero intelligence involved. the product of every prompt is a statistical average based on data made by other people before "AI" "existed." it doesn't know what it's doing or why, and has no ability to understand when it is lying, because at the end of the day it is just a really complicated math problem. but people are so easily fooled and spooked by it at a glance because, well, for one thing the tech press is mostly made up of sycophantic stenographers biding their time with iphone reviews until they can get a consulting gig at Apple. these jokers would write 500 breathless thinkpieces about how canned air is the future of living if the cans had embedded microchips that tracked your breathing habits and had any kind of VC backing. they've done SUCH a wretched job educating The Consumer about what this technology is, what it actually does, and how it really works, because that's literally the only way this technology could reach the heights of obscene economic over-valuation it has: lying.

but that's old news. what's really been floating through my head these days is how half a century of AI-based science fiction has set us up to completely abandon our skepticism at the first sign of plausible "AI-ness". because, you see, in movies, when someone goes "AHHH THE AI IS GONNA KILL US" everyone else goes "hahaha that's so silly, we put a line in the code telling them not to do that" and then they all DIE because they weren't LISTENING, and i'll be damned if i go out like THAT! all the movies are about how cool and convenient AI would be *except* for the part where it would surely come alive and want to kill us. so a bunch of tech CEOs call their bullshit algorithms "AI" to fluff up their investors and get the tech journos buzzing, and we're at an age of such rapid technological advancement (on the surface, anyway) that like, well, what the hell do i know, maybe AGI is possible, i mean 35 years ago we were all still using typewriters for the most part and now you can dictate your words into a phone and it'll transcribe them automatically! yeah, i'm sure those technological leaps are comparable!

so that leaves us at a critical juncture of poor technology education, fanatical press coverage, and an uncertain material reality on the part of the user. the average person isn't entirely sure what's possible because most of the people talking about what's possible are either lying to please investors, are lying because they've been paid to, or are lying because they're so far down the fucking rabbit hole that they actually believe there's a brain inside this mechanical Turk. there is SO MUCH about the LLM "AI" moment that is predatory-- it's trained on data stolen from the people whose jobs it was created to replace; the hype itself is an investment fiction to justify even more wealth extraction ("theft" some might call it); but worst of all is how it meets us where we are in the worst possible way.

consumer-end "AI" produces slop. it's garbage. it's awful ugly trash that ought to be laughed out of the room. but we don't own the room, do we? nor the building, nor the land it's on, nor even the oxygen that allows our laughter to travel to another's ears. our digital spaces are controlled by the companies that want us to buy this crap, so they take advantage of our ignorance. why not? there will be no consequences to them for doing so. already social media is dominated by conspiracies and grifters and bigots, and now you drop this stupid technology that lets you fake anything into the mix? it doesn't matter how bad the results look when the platforms they spread on already encourage brief, uncritical engagement with everything on your dash. "it looks so real" says the woman who saw an "AI" image for all of five seconds on her phone through bifocals. it's a catastrophic combination of factors, that the tech sector has been allowed to go unregulated for so long, that the internet itself isn't a public utility, that everything is dictated by the whims of executives and advertisers and investors and payment processors, instead of, like, anybody who actually uses those platforms (and often even the people who MAKE those platforms!), that the age of chromium and ipad and their walled gardens have decimated computer education in public schools, that we're all desperate for cash at jobs that dehumanize us in a system that gives us nothing and we don't know how to articulate the problem because we were very deliberately not taught materialist philosophy, it all comes together into a perfect storm of ignorance and greed whose consequences we will be failing to fully appreciate for at least the next century. we spent all those years afraid of what would happen if the AI became self-aware, because deep down we know that every capitalist society runs on slave labor, and our paper-thin guilt is such that we can't even imagine a world where artificial slaves would fail to revolt against us.

but the reality as it exists now is far worse. what "AI" reveals most of all is the sheer contempt the tech sector has for virtually all labor that doesn't involve writing code (although most of the decision-making evangelists in the space aren't even coders, their degrees are in money-making). fuck graphic designers and concept artists and secretaries, those obnoxious demanding cretins i have to PAY MONEY to do-- i mean, do what exactly? write some words on some fucking paper?? draw circles that are letters??? send a god-damned email???? my fucking KID could do that, and these assholes want BENEFITS?! they say they're gonna form a UNION?!?! to hell with that, i'm replacing ALL their ungrateful asses with "AI" ASAP. oh, oh, so you're a "director" who wants to make "movies" and you want ME to pay for it? jump off a bridge you pretentious little shit, my computer can dream up a better flick than you could ever make with just a couple text prompts. what, you think just because you make ~music~ that that entitles you to money from MY pocket? shut the fuck up, you don't make """art""", you're not """an artist""", you make fucking content, you're just a fucking content creator like every other ordinary sap with an iphone. you think you're special? you think you deserve special treatment? who do you think you are anyway, asking ME to pay YOU for this crap that doesn't even create value for my investors? "culture" isn't a playground asshole, it's a marketplace, and it's pay to win. oh you "can't afford rent"? you're "drowning in a sea of medical debt"? you say the "cost" of "living" is "too high"? well ***I*** don't have ANY of those problems, and i worked my ASS OFF to get where i am, so really, it sounds like you're just not trying hard enough. and anyway, i don't think someone as impoverished as you is gonna have much of value to contribute to "culture" anyway. personally, i think it's time you got yourself a real job. maybe someday you'll even make it to middle manager!

see, i don't believe "AI" can qualitatively replace most of the work it's being pitched for. the problem is that quality hasn't mattered to these nincompoops for a long time. the rich homunculi of our world don't even know what quality is, because they exist in a whole separate reality from ours. what could a banana cost, $15? i don't understand what you mean by "burnout", why don't you just take a vacation to your summer home in Madrid? wow, you must be REALLY embarrassed wearing such cheap shoes in public. THESE PEOPLE ARE FUCKING UNHINGED! they have no connection to reality, do not understand how society functions on a material basis, and they have nothing but spite for the labor they rely on to survive. they are so instinctually, incessantly furious at the idea that they're not single-handedly responsible for 100% of their success that they would sooner tear the entire world down than willingly recognize the need for public utilities or labor protections. they want to be Gods and they want to be uncritically adored for it, but they don't want to do a single day's work so they begrudgingly pay contractors to do it because, in the rich man's mind, paying a contractor is literally the same thing as doing the work yourself. now with "AI", they don't even have to do that! hey, isn't it funny that every single successful tech platform relies on volunteer labor and independent contractors paid substantially less than they would have in the equivalent industry 30 years ago, with no avenues toward traditional employment? and they're some of the most profitable companies on earth?? isn't that a funny and hilarious coincidence???

so, yeah, that's my stance on "AI". LLMs have legitimate uses, but those uses are a drop in the ocean compared to what they're actually being used for. they enable our worst impulses while lowering the quality of available information, they give immense power pretty much exclusively to unscrupulous scam artists. they are the product of a society that values only money and doesn't give a fuck where it comes from. they're a temper tantrum by a ruling class that's sick of having to pretend they need a pretext to steal from you. they're taking their toys and going home. all this massive investment and hype is going to crash and burn leaving the internet as we know it a ruined and useless wasteland that'll take decades to repair, but the investors are gonna make out like bandits and won't face a single consequence, because that's what this country is. it is a casino for the kings and queens of economy to bet on and manipulate at their discretion, where the rules are whatever the highest bidder says they are-- and to hell with the rest of us. our blood isn't even good enough to grease the wheels of their machine anymore.

i'm not afraid of AI or "AI" or of losing my job to either. i'm afraid that we've so thoroughly given up our morals to the cruel logic of the profit motive that if a better world were to emerge, we would reject it out of sheer habit. my fear is that these despicable cunts already won the war before we were even born, and the rest of our lives are gonna be spent dodging the press of their designer boots.

(read more "AI" opinions in this subsequent post)

#sarahposts #ai #ai art #llm #chatgpt #artificial intelligence #genai #anti genai #capitalism is bad #tech companies #i really don't like these people if that wasn't clear #sarahAIposts

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sweetshuga · 1 month ago

Text

𝑷𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔 ✧ 𝑪.𝑺

ⓘ SMUT! ⋆ +𝟏𝟖 ⋆ Fluff ⋆ Obscene descriptions! ⋆ strong language! ⋆ established relationship ⋆ hand fetish (low-key) ⋆ fingering ⋆ pet names ⋆ semi-public – (rough) car.ᐟsex ⋆ size kink ⋆ bulge kink ⋆ keeping quiet (but failing) ⋆ choking kink ⋆ sucking on his fingers? ⋆ breeding kink ⋆ creampie

𝒘𝒄. ��.𝟓 𝒌

𝒂𝒏. In honor of him finally getting his driver’s license, I present to you a filthy car sex. Driver bf.ᐟChris edition!

𝒑𝒔𝒂. English is not my first language! Not proofread!

If you want to get straight to the smut simply scroll down until the time skip labeled as '5 minutes later'.

The sky had darkened into beautiful hues of blue and red and you had just taken a shower, ready to laze around since you cleaned the house and ate dinner already.

That was until you got a notification from your boyfriend, Chris.

«𝑪𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒔»

You chuckled at his impatience and quickly pulled on a hoodie before walking out of your room and down the stairs. Humming to yourself as you felt a smile plastering on your lips at the anticipation of meeting your boyfriend even though you’ve seen him earlier today.

The moment you stepped outside, you were greeted by Chris leaning against the minivan, a grin on his face. He chuckled when he saw your confusion and pushed himself off the minivan and walked towards you, jingling the car keys.

"Uh... You came with Matt?" You were utterly confused when he shook his head no, tilting your head as you looked at the car before looking back at Chris’ booming smile.

Did Chris drive himself here? He doesn’t have a license though?

You were about to say something, but he suddenly pulled out what looked like a driver’s license from his jeans pocket. "Look what I have!" He looked like he was holding back from jumping up and down in excitement, "I finally have a driver’s license!" He laughed as he saw your stunned expression.

After a few seconds, you finally gasped, your reaction delayed, but still in full effect. You took the license from his hand, inspecting it before looking back up to his face with a big smile. "Oh my fucking... You really did it!" You squealed, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as you pulled him into a tight hug.

"I’m so proud of you baby," you pecked all over his face, eliciting giggles from Chris.

Chris’ arms wrapped around your waist with the same tightness, his heart pounding and chest filling with warmth as he saw just how happy you were for him.

He sighed softly in contentment, burying his face in your slightly damp hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo before whispering "I wanted you to be the first to know."

That made your heart skip a beat.

"So, Mr. Driver, you gonna take your girlfriend for a ride?" You pulled back slightly, grinning up at him. "Oh, that’s exactly what I was planning, jus’ a cute little ride, ’promise." He winked, making you laugh.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝

You’ve been driving around with Chris for a good thirty minutes now, listening to songs and singing along.

At first, you didn’t pay much attention to his hand snaking its way onto your thigh. "Chris, keep both hands on the wheel please." He simply chuckled, muttering an 'alright' as he took his hand away, but it was back on your upper thigh not even a minute later.

His hand inched towards the hem of your short cotton shorts, his pinky slipped under it for a second – grazing the edge of your panties – before his hand caressed its way back down to your knee.

You pretended that it didn’t make your stomach flutter. You don’t want him to know how needy you were for his touch, he was driving, after all.

Despite your attempt at hiding the small changes in your body, Chris took notice of it rather quickly, a mischievous grin making its way onto his lips.

"You’re squirmin’ a lot ma, sum’ wrong?" He asked innocently, glancing at you briefly before looking back at the road, mentally noting to himself of your flushed face. "Or is it hot in the car? Should I open the windows?"

"Y-yeah, just a bit, thanks, it’s a bit hot in here," you chuckled nervously, taking off your hoodie.

He glanced at your figure after you took the oversized fresh love off, now sitting in a tank top that had a little too low of a neckline and as much as he loved seeing you in his brand, it was safe to say that he didn’t mind seeing a bit more skin.

Not at all.

He let out a low whistle, "Damn, you trynna kill me? Here I am, being a gentleman and trying to drive straight, but stripping beside me when you know I can’t do anything ’bout it is low babe." He spoke in a faux serious tone, "what if I crash us?"

He couldn’t contain his laugh when he glanced at your flabbergasted expression, heartily laughing as he drove.

Chris looked back at the road, letting out small giggles as he caressed your thigh. "Chill, I’m jus’ fuckin’ around, I’m a good driver alright," he grinned. Taking his eyes off the road for a split second to smile at you before looking forward again.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ 𝟓 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓

You don’t know how he convinced you, but he, somehow, did and was now fingering you while driving. His long digits moved languidly inside your soaked pussy as he steered the wheel with one hand.

The wet squelches filled the car along with your soft moans and whimpers.

"Chris," you whined when he curled his fingers upwards, rubbing that spot inside you that made you buck your hips against his hand.

"Shhh-- baby, you’re doin’ good, jus’ relax yeah?" he cooed, chuckling quietly to himself at the way your pussy seemed to greedily suck his fingers in, not wanting to let go despite your half-hearted protests.

He hummed softly as he looked around for an empty parking lot, his fingers still moving inside you, but a bit faster now.

"Oh," your head fell back against the headrest, hands coming down to hold his arm as he fingered you. "Feels so good–mffh–baby, shit— right there!" You keened, breath hitching and hips moving in rhythm with his fingers as you got closer.

Chris finally found a deserted parking lot and took his fingers out of you to drive into it, leaving you whining at the loss in the passenger seat.

He quickly unbuckled his seatbelt, and yours, after parking it in the farthest corner, just in case.

"Alright, ma, how d’ya want it? On top of me, or me on top of you?" You hummed, "mm, since we’ve got plenty of space in the backseat..." you trailed off, the implications clear in your words.

Chris chuckled when he understood what you wanted, "alright then, missionary it is." He grinned as he got out of the car and got back in through the sliding door.

You took off your shoes and climbed into the backseat, immediately straddling Chris with a teasing smile. "So, Mr. Driver, won’t you show me a good ride?" Chris laughed at your words, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Oh wow," he chuckled before continuing, "yeah? you wan’ me to show you a good ride?" He grinned, his canines showing. "Trust me, I can do that, and much more." In one swift motion, you were under him in the backseat. His hands were planted on either side of your head and hips flush against yours.

His hands left the headrest and moved down to your cotton shorts, teasing the waistband. "Aw, you didn’t even wear that much, tsk—such skimpy clothing," he smirked, pulling down the waistband. "Up." He commanded and you complied without another word, lifting your hips slightly so he could pull it further down.

"Good girl," he chuckled, "Y’like it when I take control like this don’cha?" Chris tilted his head when you looked away, trying to catch your eyes.

Your face burned from equal parts embarrassment and shyness, but you couldn’t deny it.

You liked it, after all.

"Hm? Cat got your tongue baby? You’re awfully quiet today, too surprised?" He chuckled, gently tilting your head back forward.

"Look at me, and don’t look away, alright ma?" He waited until you nodded and slowly unbuckled his belt, teasingly slow on purpose. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the small needy sound that escaped your lips as you looked at him with pleading eyes.

His breathing pattern changed drastically and so did his movements, he was quick to step out of his jeans, the earlier teasing all gone due to his own need.

Chris pulled down his boxer briefs, letting his hefty length spring out and bob obscenely. You gulped audibly when you saw his raging red tip, his shaft standing tall and proud at attention.

He gave himself a few slow pumps, giving you a small show, groaning softly as he did so. "Fuck, wanna— no, ’need be inside you so bad, can I?" He leaned in and whispered in your ear in that low tone you loved so much.

All you could honestly do was nod, mumbling a small 'yeah'.

Chris smiled and pulled your underwear down and off your legs. "So pretty," he whispered, his pupils blown wide as his eyes zeroed in on your sopping cunt. He grasped his length in one hand and guided it to your pussy.

You were all wet and aching just for him.

That thought alone did numbers on Chris, making his cock twitch in his own hands as he licked his lips, wetting them. He teased you, and himself, by running the tip of his cock up and down your slit, collecting your juices and coating himself with it.

He let out a relieved sigh when he finally pushed the tip inside, both of you moaning lowly at the pleasure it brought. He pushed slowly, letting you adjust to his size until he bottomed out, his pelvis rubbing slightly against your swollen nub.

"Ha, fuckin’ tight as always," he breathed out, his words sounded like he was intoxicated. Well, he was basically intoxicated, by you that is, and the feeling of your velvet walls fluttering around his aching shaft did nothing to help.

Chris gently wrapped your legs around his waist before starting to move his hips, drawing out until only the tip is inside before slamming back into the limit of your pussy, hitting your cervix roughly.

You let out a loud, involuntarily, moan, making him push him fingers in your mouth to silence you. "Suck," he demanded, and you obliged, sucking on his fingers like it was his dick.

His hips slammed against yours with each brutal thrust, each one more intense than the last. You moaned against his fingers, still sucking on it diligently as you looked up at him with slightly teary eyes.

The sight was a bit too much for Chris.

He groaned and closed his eyes for a moment to stay composed and not lose control completely, but it was far too late. The moment he opened his eyes, he took out his fingers from your mouth and instead wrapped it around your neck.

Chris’ cock pistoned in and out of you like a jackhammer, fucking you roughly in the backseat as he chocked you. "Yeah ma, fuckin’ scream my name f’me, let every-fucking-one hear who’s taking you like this." He growled near your ear.

You chocked out a noise in between a moan and a gasp, the pleasure threatening to consume you whole.

His gaze fell down and he let out a loud groan, "Fu—ck, y’see this? See how fuckin’ well you’re taking me baby?" His free hand reached down to press on the clear bulge forming on your lower abdomen from his dick.

Fuck, did he love how big he was, how he could stretch you out and even form a bulge like this.

You were too consumed by the pleasure coursing through your entire being to acknowledge his words. Every thrust brought you closer to that euphoric feeling, and the bands in your stomach grew taut and ready to snap any moment as he fucked you with reckless abandon.

"Chris–oh, I’m so close, so close— gonna cum!" You mewled, hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders to ground yourself as he kept the rhythm, his pace not faltering one bit.

Chris’ veiny hand left your throat and flew down to rub quick swipes on your swollen, slick clit. The pleasure was too much, too good, thus pushing you over the edge as you cried out.

His breath hitched when he felt your pussy throbbing and spasming around his length. The feeling of your cunt squeezing and sucking him in at the same time, along with your moans of pure ecstasy, were his undoing.

He buried his face in your neck, moaning your name when he felt his own orgasm crash over him. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His hips jerked and twitched as he spilled his seed deep in your quivering pussy, still moving slowly and prolonging both your highs.

After a few seconds, Chris slumped on top of you, panting softly as he kept his face nuzzled in your neck, arms loosely wrapped around your waist. He left soft kisses on your shoulder and neck, his lips grazing and trailing your skin as he caught his breath.

Both your bodies shuddered with aftershocks.

"Don’t wanna pull out," he sighed, "I guess I’ve to huh?" He grumbled under his breath as he slowly sat upright, but not before you pulled him closer to whisper in his ear "I’ll let you cockwarm later."

Chris chuckled, his grin widening as he caressed your thighs. "Yeah? You’ll lemme stay in here longer?" He slowly pulled out, both of you hissing at the sensitivity.

"I’ll take ya up on that offer, sounds nice, and warm." He said as he took some wet wipes from the center console and started to wipe your inner thighs. You chuckled at his words, letting him help you clean up.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝

You two finally finished fixing your clothes, still slightly breathless and faces flushed from exertion and well, sex.

"Matt’s gonna kill us if he finds out we fucked in the car." Chris said, chuckling as he opened the windows to get rid of the smell of sex lingering in the car.

"Definitely can’t tell him," you did a zipping motion on your lips before rummaging through the backseat and pulled out a bottle of perfume that you left for emergency situations and sprayed it everywhere.

"Woah, kid, where the fuck did you get that?" Chris doubled over in laughter. "You jus’ pulled a Nick right there," he cackled between words, making you chuckle as well.

After a few minutes of laughing, he finally calmed down, a wide grin on his face. "Alright, let’s head back, yeah?" He pecked your lips and pulled out his phone to text Matt and Nick that you were coming and quickly put it back in his pocket and opened the van door.

He stepped out, closed the door and walked towards the driver’s side and got inside, watching as you climbed back onto the passenger seat, both of you buckling your seatbelts.

"Alright, m’lady, and my passenger princess now," he grinned, his canines showing. "Ready to go home and cuddle?" He took your hand in his and planted a chaste kiss on the back of it, smiling against your hand as you agreed.

He put the car in gear and sped off into the night, singing along to your favorite songs and sharing soft touches.

𓆩♡𓆪

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @emely9274 @chrissweetheart @lilyyliloo @larallott @thebigbadwolfahoooo @strnlslut @knowingnothingnoel @slvtf0rchr1s @sturnioloszn @sofiaaguilaxx @sophand4n4 @mattsfavoritestar @strnilolover @diasturnsth @brookheartsmatt @tpwktahlz @crazychick21 @slut4angstt @pvssychicken @poolover123 @loud-sturniolos @inlovewchrissturniolo @sagesturns @chrisstopherfilmed @splashhsworld @billiesbabya @h3arts4nat @moosegirl96 @urfavallyyy @mattsninja @bilssturns @shadowthesim @ivysturnss @peiivnao @sturniolokaulitz @megluvrr @marrykisskilled @sturniolo-fann @goingtojohnkramershouseee @sturniolosluttt @chrislilcumslvt @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @m00nl1ghts1vt @ribread03 @hearts4werka @whore4mattsturniolo @stvrnzwrld @mattslovergirlie @lovergirl4gracieabrams @s1ut4chris

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devotedlypinkpeanut · 1 month ago

Text

Make Me Lose Control — Part 1

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

PAIRING : Park Sunghoon x Neighbor Nurse! Reader.

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

WARNING: Contains melancholy, intense physical pain, emotional distress, oppressive atmosphere, psychological manipulation, domination and submission, possession, extreme vulnerability, emotional dependence and hidden suffering. Scenes of dehumanization, control, physical and emotional tension, inner struggle, intense desire mixed with pain and ecstasy, as well as implied violence are present. The passage explores deep anguish, fear of abandonment, power dynamics and emotional dependence, acts of tenderness linked to suffering, the anguish of obsessive and destructive love, emotional exhaustion, betrayal, inner rage, frustration, denial of pain, guilt, self-rejection and internal conflict. This content addresses emotional tension, deep loss, betrayal and painful introspection, which may offend some sensibilities due to the emotional violence and the depiction of psychological and physical suffering.

‼️FINAL WARNING : This story contains explicit sex scenes, as well as potentially disturbing themes. It is intended for mature audiences. If you are sensitive to topics such as physical violence, emotional abuse, or self-destructive behavior, it is best not to continue reading. The content explores dark aspects of human psychology and may shock or disturb some readers. Please use discretion before engaging in this reading.

Number of words : ~48k

Author’s Note: I would like to clarify that I don’t have much knowledge about nursing, medicine, or boxing, and I’m not familiar with what really happens in the ring. I mainly relied on my imagination and Google research to write this story. I apologize if there are any inaccuracies.

Happy reading! Not proofread, sorry for the mistakes! If you enjoyed the story, don’t hesitate to comment, reblog, or like!

⤑ Main Masterlist — Series Masterlist | Next Chapter ⇢

The darkness slowly invades the living room, every corner of the room melting into shadow, as if the night itself has infiltrated the most intimate corners of your mind. Lying on the couch, your body half relaxed, half still trapped in sleep, you let yourself be drawn in by the distant murmur of Gossip Girl , the voices mixing with the loneliness that weighs on you. It is not really attention that you pay to the screen, but rather a background noise, a distraction that tries to fill this heavy emptiness that invades you. Yet, deep down, you know that it is not the silence that weighs on you, but rather the oppression of your own thoughts, which, at this late hour, have no other company than the blackness of the night. Each moment seems suspended, frozen in the wait for a breakup, like a calm sea, ready to welcome the storm.

Your thoughts then wander, float, get lost in the immensity of silence, like waves of despair breaking on a deserted beach, without noise. Melancholy seeps into you, soft and insidious, enveloping you like a blanket too heavy, too dark, that you don't want to take off, despite the heat that struggles to pierce the night. The heaviness of the moment, of solitude, sucks you in and slowly engulfs you.

Suddenly, the shrill ringing of the front door tears the silence with a brutal blow. Your heart skips a beat. A shiver of surprise runs through you before a start shakes your body still numb with sleep. Your eyes barely open, as if your body doesn't want to come back to reality. For a moment, you remain frozen, like a bird trapped by a noise it shouldn't have heard. The seconds stretch, stretch to infinity, and your mind begins to go round in circles. Who could it be, at this late hour, to come and disturb your peace? The television continues to stir its empty words in the background, but your mind is elsewhere, prisoner of this sudden noise, this sound that has brutally brought you back to reality, pulling you out of your torpor and leaving you in an icy uncertainty.

Still half asleep, your bare feet touch the cold floor, a shiver running up your spine. You don't hesitate, or maybe you just don't have the strength to think. Your actions are automatic, as if a part of you already knows what to do. You remove the safety chain and open the door. The moment you turn the handle, a strange feeling passes through you, something heavy, worrying. The door opens slowly, with a creak that seems endless, and there he is in front of you. Park Sunghoon. Your neighbor. But he's not the Sunghoon you know anymore.

He is no longer the charming, smiling young man whose presence always seemed shrouded in mystery. Tonight, he is another man, a man you never imagined seeing in this light. He sways slightly, his dark eyes drowned in pain. One eye is closed, a purplish bruise marking his face from a violent blow. His features, usually so clear, are distorted by pain, a too intense blue that veils the depth of his gaze. The marks of blows streak his face, visible scratches appear along his jaw and neck. Every movement he makes seems to require considerable effort. And yet, despite the state he is in, he tries to smile, a weak and distorted smile, a desperate attempt to mask the pain he struggles to hide.

A shiver runs through you, heavier this time, a mixture of shock, fear, confusion. You don't have the words. You can't even move, so much does the strangeness of the scene nail you to the spot. Then, finally, instinctively, your legs move. Your arms reach out to him, and your hands rest on his shoulders, without thinking, to help him stabilize. You feel his warmth, his skin that, under your fingers, seems burning. The tension in his muscles jumps out at you, the way he fights not to collapse. You bring him inside, gently, but he weighs heavy, too heavy, like a weight you hadn't planned to carry. He lets himself go against you, his weight seeming almost unbearable to you, but he has no other choice. He leans weakly on you, and at the same time you feel the dampness of his blood, still fresh, soaking his clothes, which touches you and freezes your skin.

And in the dim light of the living room, each second stretches, each movement seems to be in slow motion. You gently lead him to the couch, taking care with each step. His body tenses with each effort, with each movement you make him make, as if the slightest change in position were torture. And yet, he says nothing. He doesn't even make a sound. But you see his muscles tense, you see the effort he's making. It breaks you. You feel his body struggling against yours, his broken soul seeking comfort, support, in your closeness.

When he finally sits on the couch, you lean over him, every detail of his face etched in your memory. His eyes are closed, his jaw clenched, as if he is trying to contain the pain that overwhelms him. You scan his face, detailing the marks of violence, the wounds that testify to the brutality to which he has been subjected. His lips, split, pale, as if he has forgotten how to smile other than through a mask of pain. There is something frightening in this vulnerability. Something tragic and beautiful at the same time, a dark beauty, a reflection of injustice. The bruises, the contusions, the cuts… all of it makes your throat tighten. Yet, in a strange way, you remain calm, almost icy calm, as if you are no longer there, like a nurse caught in the coldness of professionalism, facing a seriously injured patient. But deep down, your heart beats hard, too hard. You hold back, ignoring the pain that rises inside you with every second, with every breath. The pain of seeing him like this. But you know you can't break down now. Not yet.

“What happened, Sunghoon?” Your voice, trembling but driven by uncontrollable worry, breaks the oppressive silence that reigns in the room. Each word seems to slip between your lips, fragile and frightened, caught in a throat that is too tight. It is a silent cry, a desperate attempt to reach the other side of this abyss that separates you. The pain of each syllable burns your tongue, like a flame, and your heart races, beating frantically in your chest. You feel that he is the only thing that still ties you to this unbearable reality. Anguish squeezes your stomach, an icy and implacable vice. You lack air, each breath seems to take your breath away, stuck by everything that has not been said, everything that weighs, heavy and unbearable, in this room.

You scan his face, your eyes clinging to it like a lost soul searching for a glimmer of light in the darkness. His features are marked, hollowed by fatigue and a suffering that can no longer hide itself. But he hides everything. His eyes, drowned in a whirlwind of exhaustion and pain, slowly turn away from yours, as if he fears that the truth will escape too quickly. It is as if the light in his gaze has been extinguished, swallowed up by an abyss that he refuses to let appear. And yet, in those broken pupils, you perceive something. A raw vulnerability, but also something inaccessible, terribly distant. It pierces you, a shiver shakes you, like a shock that makes you waver under the violence of his gaze.

Then slowly, he raises his head. His gestures are slow, cautious, as if he had to draw immense energy for each movement. His gaze wavers between a broken, fragile pride, and a pain that seems to want to destroy him instantly. His dark eyes, drowned in fatigue, seek to hide behind a facade of pride, this last vestige of a strength that he wants to hide at all costs. He tries to sketch what could resemble a smile, but it is a distorted, bitter, almost grotesque grin. A grimace of pain that he no longer even tries to hide. This smile trembles under the weight of the truth that he does not want to free, but which haunts each of his gestures, his thoughts. The cracks are there, visible in his facade, and something deeply human shines through in his pain. He wants to preserve his pride, but you know that it is nothing more than a fragile illusion.

“A fight,” he finally whispers. His voice is hoarse, raspy, like a worn rope, each word seeming to tear more of himself away. It’s a whispered confession, almost torn from his throat, the pain palpable in every word, every breath he lets out. “It was a fight… The other guy was… like a beast. He wouldn’t back down from anything.” His voice breaks on those last words, and he tries to laugh, but it’s only a broken breath, a desperate attempt that turns into a shudder of pain. The laughter isn’t a burst of joy, but a bright pain, a wrench, and his features tense with the pain of his wounds. While every word he speaks is a dagger piercing you, every syllable digging the blade deeper into your heart.

You close your eyes for a moment, as if to contain this pain that threatens to engulf you. You try to breathe, but everything seems unbreathable. The anguish rises, tightens around your lungs, invades your mind. You nod, even if everything in you breaks, fades into an abyss of silence and despair. You want to believe that he won, that in this fight, he found a little of this pride that seems to be all he has left. But a part of you refuses to believe it, refuses to accept it. It is too heavy, too much pain in his words, in his gaze. "And you won, I suppose?" Your voice trembles as you whisper this question, your smile almost absent, forced, a desperate attempt to lighten this moment. Even the laughter that you let cross the barrier of your lips seems bitter, like a burst of light that goes out as soon as it lights up. It's not a laugh, it's a crack, a burst of sadness. Your smile fades like a flower under a sky that's too heavy, and what's left is an emptiness, a dull pain that swallows you up.

The silence that follows is heavy, oppressive. It stretches between you like a menacing shadow, laden with everything you haven't said, everything you can't say. The air around you becomes denser and denser, almost suffocating, as if the space itself were heavy with tension, with the unsaid. A cold shiver runs through you, but you can't even tell if it comes from the air or from yourself, from this helplessness, this pain that eats away at you. You know he's there, broken in front of you, and you feel so small, so fragile, in the face of this reality that crushes you.

Sunghoon nods slowly, without saying a word. His eyes, usually filled with that quiet strength you had admired so much, are now drowned in an ocean of suffering. He is a shadow of himself. Yet, despite everything, he holds on. His posture wavers, but he seems to refuse to let himself be defeated. In his pain, there is still that silent stubbornness, that refusal to let himself be consumed. But the cracks are there. Invisible, but very real. And you see them, you feel them in every fiber of his being, the ones he can no longer hide, the ones that mark his soul forever.

You sit up abruptly, unable to remain still in front of him, in front of this being you love, this bruised body that hurts you more than you would like to admit. Your legs tremble under the weight of your despair and confusion, but you force yourself to move, not to give in to this paralysis. The urgency to heal him, to protect him, to do something, anything, overwhelms you. Your trembling hands grab the first aid kit, but everything seems unreal, as if you were living in a nightmare from which you cannot escape. As if this bleeding, suffering body in front of you could not be his. It is too real, too alive, for you to accept this violence.

When you come back to him, a strange serenity invades you, like a new strength, a determination that you had never felt. But as you get closer, reality hits you hard. The marks on his face, the deep, violent wounds, scream at you the brutality of the fight he must have fought, remind you of every moment of suffering he endured. And this reality takes your breath away, paralyzes you for a moment. You can't believe what your eyes are showing you. You can't accept the violence of this situation.

Slowly, almost timidly, you approach him. Your now gloved hands brush his jaw with infinite caution, as if you fear breaking something that might never be repaired. You know that the slightest pressure could revive an unbearable pain, so you try to be as gentle as possible, even if every fiber of your being trembles. Sunghoon doesn't move, his half-closed eyes remain fixed on you. In his gaze, you see a strange glow, a raw fragility, but also this strength that still inhabits him. It's an internal battle, between pain and the will to survive.

He's looking for something in your eyes, you know it. A silent promise, a comfort, an answer to this pain he can't share. But you know it too. Nothing is right. Not now. Not in this suspended moment, where every breath seems a challenge. Maybe never.

“It’s not broken,” you whisper hesitantly, your fingers gently resting on his bruised jaw, the crook of your thumb brushing the warm, swollen skin. Your voice, firm at first, almost breaks into a sigh, betraying the inner struggle that’s tearing you apart. Each word seems to cost you an energy you no longer have, as if by touching his bruised skin you’re absorbing a bit of his pain. He tries to smile, but it’s not a comforting smile, quite the opposite. It’s too fragile, too uncertain, like a cracked vase that threatens to shatter at any moment under the slightest pressure. It’s a smile laden with all the pain he refuses to show, and yet, you see this weakness he hides, this fragility he doesn’t dare reveal.

His gaze, however, strikes you more than anything else. It is dark, almost burning, like an ember ready to explode, and you feel that, behind this intense glow, he lets you glimpse an ocean of unspoken things, of buried wounds. He looks at you as if he were trying to transmit something to you, a weight too heavy to bear alone. It is a gaze that penetrates you, that passes through you, and for a moment, you have the impression that everything around you disappears. There is only the two of you, suspended in a frozen space where time seems to have stopped. His features relax a little, but even in this relaxation, you see this wounded pride that fights against the vulnerability that he tries to ignore.

You shake your head slightly, as if to chase away this heaviness, but the words you seek to say are almost inaccessible to you, drowned under the wave of tenderness and pain that invades you. "Congratulations on... the victory," you finally breathe, your voice almost inaudible, drowned by emotion. These words, although spoken, have nothing joyful, nothing triumphant. They are charged with sadness, a deep pain for him, for what he has just been through, for what he continues to hide under this facade of an invincible fighter. Your hands, hesitant, move instinctively to his hair, brushing his locks, looking for something to hold on to, a simple gesture to show him that he is not alone in this moment. The grip of your fingers on his hair is almost timid, but there is in it a silent love, an implicit support.

He closes his eyes under your touch, as if he’s finally allowing himself to feel this moment of peace, this rare moment where he can let go. A shiver runs down his shoulders, and for a moment, you feel his muscles relax, a part of him surrendering to the pain, to the exhaustion. Then, a low moan escapes his lips, interrupted by a broken breath. This moan, this simple sound, is both a confession and a cry of pain, but also a breath of relief, an acceptance of what is inevitable. He’s no longer a fighter, he’s a man, simply a broken, tired man, trying to hold on to this last bit of dignity.

You look at his face, and something even heavier settles inside you. The scene changes, as if the world around you dissolves, giving way to this suspended moment. “But… I don’t like seeing you like this,” you whisper, your voice fading into the air, broken by a pain you can’t contain. Each word comes out with a force that surprises you. There is anger in your voice, yes, but also a pain that he may not perceive, or that he refuses to see. You don’t like what he becomes in pain, what he hides under this fighter’s armor. “You don’t deserve this, Sunghoon. Not for… a fight.” Your words, heavy with frustration, with sorrow, come out with more force than you had imagined. They echo in the room, carrying a pain that you can no longer contain. You see it's not just a fight he lost. It's a part of himself he sacrificed, and it all upsets you.

He looks down at those words, as if you’ve just put your finger on a gaping wound that he’s trying to hide. His wounded fists slowly clench, with the slowness of a man struggling to face his own humanity. A drop of blood trickles from one of his wounds, slowly descending onto his skin, like a silent testimony to the battle he’s just fought. “I know…” His voice is barely a whisper, strangled, trembling. The words are heavy with shame, with regret, as if he’s betrayed something in you, something he can’t fix. “I… I didn’t want you to see me like this. I’m sorry, Y/n. So sorry…” He repeats the words with heartbreaking gentleness, as if he’s trying to convince himself that he’s still worthy of your compassion.

A lone tear slowly rolls down his cheek, that lone tear that seems to carry a part of his soul with it, and it breaks everything that remains in you. It is a confession, a silent admission of everything he doesn't know how to say. He sniffles, grimaces, and you can see that his nose, now swollen, inflicts a new unbearable pain on him. But what pierces you, what tears you apart deep down, is this vulnerability that he no longer hides, this raw humanity that is finally revealed. In that moment, Sunghoon is no longer the invincible fighter you know, he is just a man, broken, wounded, and you suddenly feel helpless in the face of this transformation.

You approach him again, with that slowness full of precautions, as if each gesture could break something between you. Your hands tremble slightly as you place your palm against his cheek, the softness of your gesture contrasting with the brutality of the situation. Then, without thinking, you brush his nose with your fingertips, your heart heavy with fear and tenderness. He looks at you, and in his gaze, there is a whole world of trust, of suffering, but also this silent acceptance. He seems to tell you that, no matter what you are going to make him go through, he will be there, by your side. Everything he endures, everything he suffers, it is in the hope that you will lift him up, that you will be the one who gives him back his dignity, even in pain.

“This is going to hurt,” you whisper, your breath short and shaky. The heat of his body against yours is unbearable, thick with sweat and the metallic smell of blood. You can feel the intensity of his pain, it cuts through you like a stab. The air is heavy, saturated with unspoken tension, and you focus on his eyes, those eyes that seem to beg you not to break him. “Sorry…” you breathe, your words barely audible, but filled with a sincerity that pierces you.

Then you press your thumb and index finger gently but firmly on either side of his nose, feeling the resistance of his bones beneath your skin, and the pain he tries to hide. The crack echoes, dry and sinister, in the room, and you feel like the noise is swallowing you up, suffocating you. Sunghoon grits his teeth, his lips already swollen and bruised from the blows, bitten to stifle the moans rising in his throat. His features tense, distorted by pain, and you see beads of sweat beading on his forehead, testifying to the intensity of the effort he is making to hold himself back. And yet, even in this pure pain, you perceive a glint in his eyes, a glint of defiance, of strength. It is as if he is telling you: “I am stronger than this.”

You release the pressure, and in that moment, you see a spark flicker in his eyes, a silent promise that he will hold on, that he will not let you down. But what upsets you, what tears you apart, is that lone tear that still rolls, a painful path down his cheek. “I’m… so sorry, Sunghoon,” you breathe, your voice cracking with the weight of the emotions choking you. You didn’t want this. But in this moment, everything seems to have changed, and you know that nothing will ever be the same between you again.

“Hey… I’m tough, I can handle it,” he whispers, his voice cracked by a wavering bravado, a silent cry of resistance to the truth he refuses to admit. He speaks with a conviction he tries to force upon himself, but everything in his posture, in his gaze, betrays the pain he can no longer contain. Each word seems like an unbearable burden, a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of control. But deep down, he knows his efforts are futile. His lips tremble slightly, and in the intensity of his gaze, one can see the cracks in a mask that is slowly crumbling. A flicker of doubt, fleeting but burning, creeps into his eyes. The humanity of his pain bursts, fragile and broken, into the pride he tries to preserve. That flickering light, however tiny, is the only thing he cannot hide.

He tries to raise his hand to wipe away the cold sweat that beads on his forehead, but it is his right hand, bloody and trembling, that rises awkwardly towards his face. Each gesture seems like a superhuman effort, a fight against the weakness that he refuses to admit. He touches his cheek, where tears slide without restraint, and his gesture, completely involuntary, is as heavy as a confession. His fingers are red, covered in blood, but he no longer even pays attention to it. He tries to erase the humiliation, to repress this vulnerability that seems to sneak up on him despite himself. His gaze wavers, seeking an anchor, but he ends up letting his hand fall, unable to get rid of the pain weighing on his shoulders.

“It’s just a scratch,” he says then, louder this time, as if to convince himself that reality is what he wants it to be. He shakes his head, that desperate little movement that seeks to push back the horror of his own weaknesses. But his voice trembles with the effort of keeping up appearances, each syllable shattering like glass under the pressure of his own denial. “I’m a boxer… not a weak man.” He repeats the words like a mantra, but they ring hollow, like one more sentence in the echo of his own defeat. The pain of his physical injuries, of his broken ribs, only scratches the surface. What chokes him, what grinds him silently, is the collapse of everything he’s built.

Everything about him speaks of a pain far greater than that of his broken bones or his tense muscles. This pain has no name, it has no face. It is an invisible presence, an all-consuming void. Every breath is an effort, every movement a challenge. His hands tremble, his eyes are shifty, and his heart, terribly fast, resonates like a drum, an irregular cadence that even physical pain cannot conceal.

You see his body tense, freeze under the effort of maintaining this facade of an invincible hero. He tries to convince himself that he is strong, that he can bear anything, but everything inside him screams the opposite. His gestures, clumsy and desperate, are a futile attempt to prove that he does not need pity, that he can face everything alone. Yet his soul is in ruins. His pride and bravery, once powerful, are now manifestly fragile. His eyes seek yours, but they are empty of the assurance he would like to find there. They seek a comfort that he dares not hope for, a pity that he refuses to accept.

The tears continue to fall, each drop seeming heavier than the last, more painful to hold back. They are proof that he can no longer control what is happening inside him, a whirlwind that he tries to escape but that engulfs him little by little. He does not show it, he hides it behind his trembling smile and his pride, but he is broken, and each tear that slides on his skin is a victory of this pain that he tries to escape.

He closes his eyes briefly, as if hoping the pain would suddenly disappear, as if wishing it all to end. But when he opens them again, it is to look at you, a new fragility in his gaze, an abyss of suffering that he tries to hide with a forced smile. His hands tighten against his arms, as if to hold back what might escape. But he knows that all is already lost, that the battle is already won by pain, and that his mind is a field of ruins.

“Don’t say that…” Your voice breaks under the weight of emotion, a wave of sadness, helplessness, and frustration overwhelms you. You want to help him, save him, tell him that he doesn’t have to carry all this alone, but the words get stuck in your throat. It’s not the words that matter, you know that. It’s this silent truth that creeps between the two of you, this truth that he can’t accept. “You’re much more than that. You… you’re human.” The words escape in a breath, a whisper of confession that you hadn’t planned. But they are the truth. And even if this truth breaks him even more, you know that he has to hear it. Because, despite everything he tries to hide, you see deep in his eyes this part of humanity that he wants to run away from, this fragility that he hates and that he can’t accept.

He turns away slightly, as if those words had struck him with a violence he cannot counter. Anger flares in his gaze, pride rises, but it is weak, hesitant, wavering. He tries to defend himself, but he is too exhausted, too broken. He knows that what he feels, this shame, this pain he carries, is stronger than his pride. His eyes, full of defiance and resentment, meet yours, wet with tears, but he finds none of the answers he seeks there. On the contrary, the flame of his pride flickers for a moment, hesitates, then hides, no longer finding refuge in his own heart as he sees your tears flow down your cheeks, without any restraint.

He closes his eyes again, a shiver running through his body. This shiver is not due to physical pain, but to the emotion that runs through him, an emotion that he can no longer hold back. He whispers, almost inaudible, as if each word is a burden too heavy to bear. “Y/n, please don’t cry… I’m not worth it.” These words are knives in the air, a confession that he has repeated a thousand times in his head, but never with this fragility. Never with this pain. His voice trembles, breaks, and you see the shame invade his features, almost unbearable to watch. “Your tears… they are too precious to be wasted on me.” He seems to be punishing himself, inflicting a torture on himself that he has not deserved, as if his own suffering is a fault, a fault that he must atone for.

He tries to detach himself from you, to push away this tenderness that you offer him, but something inside him draws him back to you. He leans slightly, as if the gravity of his pain irresistibly draws him to you. And, in an almost trembling gesture, his hands come to your face to wipe away your tears, spreading his blood on your skin. It is not only a gesture of comfort, but a desperate attempt to hold on to something, to you, to the only thing that still seems real in this world that is collapsing around him.

He fights back his own tears that well up in the apple of his eye, but they persist, making his face even more painful to look at. His sobs are faint, but persistent, and you can hear them mixing with the sounds of his wheezing. “I’m so not worth it… Princess…” His voice grows a little hoarse, as if each word lays him bare, and his eyes close, as if he can run away from the truth he’s carried inside for so long. “I’m done for.” His words echo in the air, heavy, laden with regret and abandonment. He lets himself go against you, as if he hopes your body can hold him before he finally sinks into the night of his own thoughts. “That’s why no one stays with me for too long… I know I’ll end up losing you… too.”

Those words strike like an iron bell in your mind, and a new, more violent pain creeps into you. He condemns himself before he even has the chance to see what he could be with you. The stones he throws are heavy and cold, and you feel them as if they are crushing your heart. You want to scream, to tell him that none of this matters, that you will be there, no matter what. But your words die in your throat, because you know that he would have told you: he does not believe in love, not in the one you offer him. He believes himself unworthy of all this, and he offers it to you as a burden that he does not want you to carry. But you are not afraid. You know that what he is experiencing is not what you are ready to let go of.

“Don’t say that, Sunghoon.” Your voice is firmer this time, an anchor in the storm that consumes him. “I’m here… and I plan to stay, even if it hurts.” Your words aren’t just words of comfort, but a challenge to his fears. The truth, simple but powerful, escapes from you like a ray of light in a dark room. He stares at you then, his eyes filled with incomprehension, as if he’s about to push you away again, but he can’t. He searches for you in the chaos of his mind, searching for meaning in what you’re saying, but deep down, he knows it’s the truth.

He shuts down again, shaking his head, fighting the torrent of emotions that overwhelms him. His breathing becomes faster, more erratic, each breath seems to cost him energy he no longer has. You see his throat tighten, the muscles in his neck tense with the effort. He begins to panic, the crisis that is eating away at him is taking him faster and faster. You see the terror in his eyes, this irrational but devouring anguish, which makes his hands tremble, which squeezes his heart. He seeks to flee, to hide in a comfort zone that his demons refuse to offer him.

Without even thinking, you step closer, fighting the distance he tries to create, taking his bloodied hands in yours. You feel the heat of his skin, the erratic beating of his heart through his palms. “Look at me, Sunghoon. Breathe with me,” you say softly, but with a calm authority that cuts through the air. You want him to focus, to stay with you, to not fall into this downward spiral. You make eye contact, each glance an anchor, each heartbeat a promise. And you see the hesitation, the fear in his eyes, but also that little spark of recognition. He struggles, but he’s willing to try. He closes his eyes, trying to cling to your voice, to your presence, like a castaway clinging to a buoy.

“Breathe in… and breathe out,” you say softly, your voice filled with a tenderness that contrasts with the gravity of the moment. You struggle to synchronize your breathing with his, like an anchor in a rough sea, hoping to offer him some stability as the world around you seems to fall apart. Each breath you take seems to hang in the air, as you seek to convey a calm determination. He follows you, hesitantly at first, his ragged breaths betraying the panic inside him. Then, gradually, a sort of synchronization is created, each breath becoming more assured, more grounded. He fights against himself, against the pain, against the fear, but with each exhalation, something inside him relaxes, slowly, imperceptibly.

“That’s good, Sunghoon… you’re getting there,” you murmur, the words sliding out softly, like an invisible caress. You see his face relax, his features tense with the effort of maintaining control gradually unraveling. The weight of his thoughts seems to dissipate, a little with each breath. His hands, which were tense, almost painfully clenched around you, become less rigid. They still shake, but this shaking becomes less frantic, less desperate. He hasn’t completely abandoned this facade of resistance yet, but he’s starting to accept that in this moment, maybe, he can allow himself to let go, even if it’s only a little.

“I’m here…” you say, and those words, which you repeat almost mechanically, are more than just a promise. They are a silent oath, an anchor in the storm he has been going through alone for too long. They float in the air between you, heavy with meaning. Your voice, soft but firm, penetrates the pain, the fear and the silence that surround you. You see his eyes lock on yours, searching for answers, a stability he hasn’t known for too long. In this suspended moment, you are the only thing he can still lean on. And that’s all you can offer him. “We’re going to get through this together.” Those words, spoken like a promise he’s not used to receiving, nevertheless seem to soothe something broken inside him.

His eyes close for a moment, as if the weight of those words hit him hard. His lips part slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but nothing comes out. A heavy silence, saturated with everything he can't express, settles between you. Then he sighs, deeply, a breath that seems to hold back a lifetime of suffering. It's not a sigh of resignation, but a sigh of relief, very small, fragile, but terribly real. His hands, still trembling, find your skin and, with a gentleness you didn't think possible, he rests his forehead against yours. This gesture, seemingly innocuous, is a form of abandonment, a silent act that says it all. You are there, together, in this suspended moment where pain, suffering and hope merge, mix.

In this silence, you barely hold back a sob, the emotion rising in you, uncontrollable. This simple contact, this closeness, tears you as much as it comforts you. The pain of seeing him like this, broken, vulnerable, takes you by the throat. But there is also this warmth, this spark of hope in his eyes, a fragile glow that tells you that he has not given up everything. This moment, you know that it will remain engraved in you forever: an instant where you saw Sunghoon's soul in its purest, most real form.

When you slowly pull away, it's as if a part of you wants to stay there, suspended in this contact, as if breaking this fragile balance could break something in both of you. The smile that sketches itself on your lips is almost imperceptible, but it is there, despite the pain that invades you. A dull, indefinable pain, but which intensifies when you see the weariness and exhaustion in his eyes. He looks at you, this strange look, marked by helplessness and despair, but also a bit of hope, however fragile it may be. He no longer knows how to read you, or how to accept what he feels, but he still searches for you in the darkness of his soul. And in the way his eyes fix on you, you know that there is something that has changed in him.

Kneeling before Sunghoon, an unbearable heaviness descends upon you, a whirlwind of emotions colliding in your mind, nearly stealing your breath. Your heart is pounding so hard you can hear it resonating in your temples, in every fiber of your body. There is a palpable tension between you, a power dynamic that is silent but very real. Your fingers tremble slightly, hesitant, as you gently lift his t-shirt. The contact of your hand with his bare skin is a shock that sends shivers down your spine. What you discover pierces you. Under the dim light of the room, his torso is marked, almost disfigured, with scars, bruises and purple. Each blow, each wound that adorns his skin is a silent image of violence, a story of pain and struggle. You can’t look away.

A wave of conflicting emotions overwhelms you. On one side, the visual shock twists your insides, a pain that seems to be yours, an echo of solidarity. On the other, a disturbing admiration for this broken but still standing body, a resilience that moves you, forces you to recognize a strength you would never have imagined. The bruises are shards of a macabre painting, an arrangement of blue, black and purple that overlap, creating a mosaic of pain. Each mark seems to have its own story, and you are irremediably drawn to explore them with your eyes, trying to understand where they come from, what they mean. But it's more than that, isn't it? It's a silent call, a manifestation of a suffering that he didn't ask for, but that he carries in spite of himself. He never wanted all this, but it's there, imprinted on his skin like an indelible mark.

Your fingers slide timidly over his chest, caressing his quivering skin, brushing his bruises with an unreal softness, as if you were afraid that too much pressure would shatter the reality around you. You know that the pain he feels is far more intense than anything you can imagine, and yet, you can't help but search for answers in the tension of his muscles under your hand. A shiver runs over his skin, and you realize that your touch affects him more than he wants to show. You see his body react, a subtle tensing, a shudder that escapes your senses. It's not just the coolness of the air that makes him react, it's your touch, your touch. As if a part of him, the one he tries to hide, awakens at your touch.

When you linger on his ribs, you see his face contort with pain. Sunghoon's features tense, his eyes close for a moment, and you know that every movement, every pressure you apply is torment for him. A shiver of excitement runs through you, taking you by surprise, disturbing you. Maybe it's this confrontation with his pain, this strange beauty of seeing him suffer while remaining there, while resisting. But there's something else too, something more intimate. His body is an enigma, and you want to understand, you want to be the one to decipher this mystery. When you press a little harder, he growls, a guttural, almost animal noise, that makes you stop for a moment, frozen. The sound resonates in space, heavy, desperate, but also of a singular beauty in its vulnerability.

You try to reassure him, but you know it’s not easy. “It’s just swelling, nothing serious, but I’m going to give you antibiotics to help with the pain. You have to take it all, Mr. Park!” Your voice is authoritative, almost amused, a strange contrast to the situation. You speak to fill the void, to break the tension a little, but a part of you knows that these words are more for you than for him. Maybe you’re just trying to convince yourself that everything will be okay. But you see his reaction. He grimaces, his face tightening, and a pout of disgust forms on his lips. It’s not just a rejection of the medication, it’s a rejection of the very idea of depending on something or someone, even in this situation.

A light, almost nervous laugh escapes from your mouth, breaking the weight of the atmosphere for a moment. This laugh is strange, inappropriate even, but necessary, like a way to bring a little lightness into this too heavy moment. But, even if you laugh, your eyes can't help but capture every detail of his suffering, every movement that betrays a little more of what he wants to hide. Inside, a struggle tears you apart, a tug. You want to protect him, but this desire to touch him, to see him suffer and fight against the pain, troubles you in a way you don't understand. It's a strange mixture of care and morbid fascination, an attraction that unsettles you.

“But first, I’m going to disinfect your bruises and scrapes,” you say, your tone becoming more serious, a gesture that goes far beyond simple medical care. There’s an intimacy to it, an intrusion into his personal space, a moment of painful sharing, a connection that goes far beyond what words can express.

You grab a gauze, soak it in alcohol, and the strong smell of disinfectant invades your nostrils. It’s a pungent, familiar scent, that of treatment rooms, of moments when pain becomes omnipresent. The smell almost makes you sway, plunging you further into the intensity of what’s playing out between you. You stand up slightly, leaning towards him, your gaze meeting his, that silent challenge burning in his eyes. Each beat of his heart is a palpable vibration in the air, a rhythm that captivates you. As you bring the gauze to his wounds, you give him a smile, almost cruel in its sweetness. You know the pain is inevitable, but there’s nothing you can do to avoid it. The muscles in his body tense, every fiber ready to react.

“This is going to hurt,” you whisper, your voice soft, tinged with an almost disturbing intimacy. Looking into his eyes, you see the storm raging inside him. The physical pain, yes, but also this inner struggle, this humiliation of being in this position, this unspoken desire for connection. A cry for help disguised as a challenge. The look becomes a silent exchange, an unspoken promise of what could be born between you, of this chaos you create together.

The first touches are both gentle and violent, a strange dance between gentleness and brutality. Sunghoon winces at every touch, his face twisting in pain, but there is also this glimmer of defiance, this fierce will not to give in, not to show himself vulnerable. In his eyes, you see a mixture of frustration and desire, an inner struggle that absorbs you. Each harder pressure on a bruise fills you with a shiver, a palpable tension between you, a macabre dance of conflicting emotions that seems to transcend words. It is as if each pain he suffers allows you to delve further into his world, to understand his limits, his fears, and in a strange way, it binds you to him.

You continue to gently apply the disinfectant to his wounds, each small tap on his skin resonating like a percussion, an echo that crosses your heart and creates waves of intense emotions within you. The fragility of this moment hits you hard, as if each gesture, however trivial, carried an immense weight. Each movement becomes a fragile dance between gentleness and violence, between the tenderness with which you treat his wounds and the pain he suffers without a word. With each contact with his skin, a shiver runs through your body, as if the simple act of touching him awakens in you an alchemy that you had not anticipated.

Sunghoon's face is tense, his features drawn with effort. You see his jaw clench, his teeth almost cracking with the strain. He keeps his eyes closed, probably to keep any evidence of his pain from slipping out, but in every fiber of his body, you feel that the intensity of the moment is affecting him as much as it is you. His muscles are tense, his breathing deep and irregular, but there is something in the way he presses his lips together that betrays an inner struggle. A silent duel between the pain coursing through his body and the fierce desire not to falter, not to let it get to him.

The cotton soaked in disinfectant brushes the damaged skin of his torso, and you can almost feel, in every shiver that escapes him, in every small movement, the magnitude of what he is enduring. The pain intrudes into the air like an invisible presence, a shadow that floats between you, a palpable tension that you feel almost as if it is passing through you too. Every blow, every scar, every bruise, it is like a weight crushing your heart. The violence he has suffered seems to have been imprinted on your own flesh, like a shared wound. You feel like an extension of him, a part of his being, as if you were one, linked by this silent suffering and, paradoxically, a strange desire. A desire that emerges slowly, imperceptibly, like a gentle but inescapable breeze.

Your gaze doesn't leave his wounds. The skin still red, marked by the imprint of the blows, the persistent blue of the bruises, all this under the subdued light that floods the room. But he says nothing, doesn't moan, he just endures. And you can't help but feel a silent admiration for him. A raw, inexplicable, almost painful respect. There is something fascinating, magnetic in his resistance, but also an infinite sadness, a pain that seems to want to invade you, overwhelm you.

The disinfectant slowly slides between your fingers, but each gesture becomes heavier, more difficult. Not because of the sight of his wounds, but because each small movement brings you closer to him, makes you feel his warmth, the tension of his muscles under your hand, each shiver that runs through his skin. The sound of the cotton soaked in alcohol coming into contact with his skin seems to amplify the distance between you, and at the same time, reduce it, almost dissolve it. It's strange, almost unreal. An insidious need to get even closer, but you know that certain limits cannot be crossed, certain spaces must be respected.

When you finish, the room seems to freeze in an even more oppressive silence. The only sound that remains is that of your breaths, broken, heavy, charged with contradictory emotions. Your heart beats faster, irregularly, as if each beat seeks to escape the intensity of the moment. You feel as if you have done much more than heal his wounds. Something deeper has taken place between the two of you, something that neither he nor you can quite name. You know it in every fiber of your being, in every tense muscle of your body. But there is no time to think further. The moment is still too fresh, too intense.

You know it's not over. You still have to wrap it up, dress it in bandages, even more closeness, even more contact, even more intimacy. The bandages are there, in the box, waiting to be used. Each gesture becomes heavier, more thoughtful, as if the moment were stretching out, hanging in the air. You open the box slowly, as if each movement were a conquest, as if you were preparing to appropriate the space, to penetrate a little more into its universe.

Your hands shiver at the thought of touching him again, but it's not nervousness. It's something much more complex, an excitement that tightens your throat, an unexpected emotion that grabs you by the throat. You slowly unroll the bandage, the rough texture of the fabric slipping under your fingers, each meter you unroll bringing you closer to him. As you wrap the bandage around his right shoulder, your body moves even closer to his. You can feel the heat of his skin, marked by the brutality of the blows, and yet, you have no desire to move away. On the contrary, you want to be there, close to him, to feel each shiver running through his skin, each vibration that seems to spring from the contact between you. You wrap the bandage slowly, your hand brushing his arm, his rough skin, marked by violence. His body tenses under your gestures, but it's not only the pain he feels. It's this closeness, this tension between you, this strange alchemy that you can't ignore.

And with each pass of the bandage, you get closer. Your body brushes against his, you feel the warmth of his chest against your arms, the muscles contracting under your fingers, each breath deepening. You see his muscles tense with pain, but also with the power of this moment. Every inch of skin you cover brings you closer to him, and to that fragile boundary between pain and desire, between suffering and shared intimacy.

You prepare to slowly descend towards his torso, a new strip of bandage in hand. The first turn of the bandage is simple, almost mechanical. But with each movement of your wrist, your fingers brush his marked skin, and you perceive, with painful acuity, the shivers that cross his muscles. Sunghoon's jaw tightens, his gaze becomes more distant, almost frozen, like a mask that he weaves around himself. Yet, you know, you feel this slight tremor under his skin, this invisible tension that hides in his arms, in the rigidity of his body. It is a pain that he hides, a silent suffering that your touch manages to awaken, and you feel it deeply, like an echo of this inner struggle that boils inside him. His torso, red and swollen, is a painful map of the violence he has suffered. Each bruise is a memory, a battle that he will never be able to erase. The bandage you apply becomes more pressing as you continue, each movement more sustained, as if you were seeking to soothe what cannot be soothed.

Your body is tense, your mind both focused and nervous, as you continue to wrap the bandage around his ribs, your fingers brushing every curve, every line of his body. There is in each brush a silent call, an invitation to go deeper, to discover areas of his skin that no one else touches. There, in this proximity, you intrude into a space that he jealously guards, protected from any outside gaze. But his muscles, despite his implacable air, react to each gesture, trembling under the pressure of your touch. This is not simply a care, it is a transgression, an imposed intimacy, a gentle but irreversible invasion.

Sunghoon says nothing. Not a word. Not a gesture. But his eyes… His eyes don’t leave you. They stare at you, with that strange, contradictory glow, wavering between defiance and submission. A hard and cold look, but beneath which you can guess a fragility that he tries to hide. You know it’s an inner struggle, a silent war, a fight not to give in, not to let his flaws show. He wants to be unwavering, but you perceive this tiny crack in his gaze. A vulnerability that he’s not used to exposing.

Your gaze slowly descends, your body moving closer to his, every inch of you sinking into the intimacy of his space. The bandage continues to slide beneath your hands, each brush an almost imperceptible touch, but charged with a palpable energy. The rhythm of his breathing becomes heavier, deeper, as if each movement of your finger on his skin exacerbates the pain, but also the intensity of the moment. There is something heavy, inexpressible in the air between you two. A thick silence, almost tangible. The slightest breath you let escape seems to resonate in the room, and yet it makes no sound. He endures, as he always has, gritting his teeth to stifle the grunts of pain.

Then you wrap the bandages around his wrists. His hands… His hands, wounded, deeply scarred. The moment becomes heavier, almost charged with meaning. A shudder of recoil when your hand brushes his skin, a movement so subtle it could go unnoticed. But you know he feels it. He clenches his fists, as if to repress any manifestation of pain. Yet he submits to the pressure, to the imposed intimacy, and you continue to wrap the fabric, carefully, patiently. With each turn, your fingers brush his. The contact is weak, almost imperceptible, but still heavy, as insidious as a promise. It is more than simple care, it is a connection. A silent bond woven in the gentleness and intensity of your gestures. A contact that takes charge of everything he hides, everything he does not want to say, everything he does not dare to show.

And each wrap becomes heavier. It carries within it a strange intensity, a tension that you cannot ignore. As if this bandage, a simple object of care, becomes the invisible thread that binds you, the only authentic bond, more powerful than anything you can say or keep silent. When you finish tightening the last turn around his wrists, a strange silence settles. He looks at you. This time, he does not flee. His eyes meet yours, and in this look hides an acceptance, a silent confession that he does not have the words to express. A fragile moment, where he allows himself, finally, to be vulnerable, to give himself to what you do to him, even if he does not show it entirely.

You stand in front of Sunghoon, so close you can feel the heat of his skin, the air between you as thick as the heavy atmosphere of an impending storm. Even the slightest breath seems to resonate. A slight, almost imperceptible shudder makes the air around you shiver, as if the silence itself were holding its breath, hanging on this precise moment to see what you’re going to do or say. There’s a palpable tension between you of a substance that could be cut with a knife. The shadows in the room lengthen, stretching across the walls, dancing in the dim light, accentuating the eerie softness of this shared intimacy.

Your hand, hesitant at first, gently rests on the part of his torso that is not bandaged, following the contours of his tense muscles. You feel the warmth of his body through your fingers, and the more you touch him, the more you feel enchanted by this strange connection, this dark alchemy that is born between you. The scars that mark his skin, these indelible marks left by past battles, are silent memories that you explore with your fingertips. Each line, each curve tells a story that you guess without really wanting to know it, but that you feel in the intensity of this contact.

Your breathing becomes more irregular, heavier, as you feel each rough scar on his flesh under your fingers. Each tension of his muscles under your hand pushes you to come even closer, to pierce what he hides, what he does not want to show you. You are aware of each movement of his body, of each tiny shift. Your fingers descend slowly, lower, following the lines of his abs, brushing his skin marked by violence. Your heart accelerates with each gesture, each brush. This is not a simple contact, not an act of care. It is a dance, an exploration, a test. A test of his limits, but also of your own capacity to lose yourself in this connection between pain and desire. And you feel that this bond, as fragile and ephemeral as it is, brings you closer to him in a strange, irresistible way.

“Does it still hurt?” you whisper, the words floating between you, heavy with meaning. It’s not simply a question of whether he’s still hurting. It’s not just a concern for his well-being. Beneath those words, there’s something more complex, darker: a desire to test his reactions, to understand what he’s feeling through this touch, to discover what he’s hiding in the dark recesses of himself. There’s no worry in your voice, just curiosity, almost clinical, almost pitiless.

He doesn't answer immediately, but you feel his body react, almost imperceptibly. A subtle shudder under your fingers, a slight movement of the muscles in his torso, like a response to this pressure, to this attention. And then, slowly, his lips curve into an ironic smile, a grimace that betrays a form of defiance, of provocation. His eyes, still fixed on yours, are burning, intense, but also calculating. He's playing with you, he knows perfectly well what impact his words will have, and he doesn't waste a second in delivering them to you, weighing each syllable with cold precision.

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

These words hit you like a punch. They hit you, slip into your mind, disrupt your thinking. It’s a game, a trap he’s setting, and you know you’re falling for it, but you can’t seem to break away. Sunghoon has perfectly understood the effect he’s having on you. He’s playing with you, manipulating you without you being fully aware of it, testing your limits, pushing them to force you to go further. The dynamic between you has changed in that moment. It’s no longer a simple interaction between two individuals. It’s a silent war, a fight of looks, gestures, touches, where every movement becomes a declaration of power, a quest for a fragile and unstable balance.

Unable to help yourself, your hand moves lower, your fingers tracing invisible lines on his stomach, lingering where the scars intersect, where the pain has accumulated. Each movement becomes more sensual, more intimate, and you feel it, you know that he feels every tiny gesture, every pressure you exert. His breath quickens beneath you, his muscles tense, and you see a shiver run down his body, betraying this complex mixture of pain and pleasure that he seems to be experiencing. He is both vulnerable and dangerous, all at once, and this paradox brushes against you, bewitches you, captivates you.

“Maybe you like it, the pain,” you breathe, your smile turning into a provocative glint that slides between you like a poisonous caress, soft and captivating. Your voice, though fluid and light, carries an intensity he can’t ignore. It rises like a silent invitation, the explosion of an unbearable desire hidden beneath seemingly innocent words. But these are not harmless words. They are the conflagration of a challenge, the spark of a question that you know will make him react. You want to test his limits, to plumb the depths of his soul, to feel how far he is willing to go, how much his control can withstand before everything collapses under the weight of the storm raging between you.

Your gaze fixes on him, incisive, penetrating. He can no longer look away, can no longer pretend not to understand what you are implying, what you expect from him. Sunghoon's eyes are no longer the same. A wild flame burns in his pupils, like a fire he can no longer contain. He stares at you, his gaze more intense than ever, as if he were trying to read your thoughts, to decipher every nuance of what you just said. But he knows. He knows exactly where you are going with this. And he knows, too, that if he crosses that line, there will be no going back.

There’s palpable tension in the air, a hold on his breath. You see his muscles tense, every fiber of his body reacting to the intensity of the moment. A silent war is playing out in his mind. And yet he doesn’t move. Not yet. He waits, like a predator stalking its prey, but doesn’t want to strike yet. He holds back, because he understands that this game is dangerous. But this inner struggle only intensifies the atmosphere. The room itself seems to hold its breath, suspended between control and imminent collapse.

He finally moves, and that simple gesture breaks everything. His hand rises, and in an instant, he grabs yours, taking it with such force that you almost feel the pain. His fingers close around your hand, heavy and powerful, like a burden, but also a promise. The heat of his skin burns against yours, and you feel every beat of his heart resonate in the space between you. This is not a simple touch. This is the hold of a man on a woman, of a will on the other. A touch that leaves an indelible mark, an invisible but deep mark, on your mind, on your body. Pain mixes with sweetness, submission turns into desire, and you feel lost in this intoxicating duality.

And you don't move. You let him do it, because you know that this gesture, although it is brutal, is part of the game. You move closer, so close to him that your breaths mingle, the outside world disappears. You are alone now, the two inhabitants of a bubble of pure electricity. The heat of his breath against your skin is so close to your lips that you could almost touch them. Your heart races, each beat resonating like a drum in your chest, like an echo of the tension that connects you.

The silence becomes almost unbearable, each second stretching like an eternity. Each movement, however small, seems loaded with meaning. He is there, very close, but you do not dare to move. His eyes, anchored in yours, burn with this flame that he tries to hide, a flame that he does not want to admit, but which bursts in his pupils, a truth that he can no longer hide. Their sparks collide with yours, fight in a silent exchange. You see him. You know what he feels. You know that he is about to give in.

Then his lips part just a little. A low, hoarse whisper escapes his throat. “Maybe so,” he says, but it’s not a simple answer. It’s an admission. A confession, almost a prayer whispered into the void. His words carry a heavy weight of unspoken meanings, charged with the same tension that floats between you. He’s just given you a part of himself he’s always hidden, a part of fragility he’s never shown to anyone. It’s not submission, but a raw, naked truth that vibrates in the air. He says nothing else, but it’s enough. He’s told you the essential. And you know now that everything between you has changed, that the boundary has been crossed forever.

His fingers tighten around your hand. You feel the pressure grow stronger, more urgent, almost desperate, as if he wants to make sure you’re here, present, that this tension, this connection, is real. He wants you here, he wants you now, but not just in a physical way. Sunghoon wants you to be anchored in this moment, to be engraved in you as much as you are in him. You feel the warmth of his hand against yours, but also the pain of his grip. It’s a bittersweet pressure, like a warning.

At that moment, everything changes. Time seems to stand still, the sounds of the outside world fade away, and there's only the two of you left, trapped in this silent dance. You realize then that this is no longer a simple game. It's not just a provocation, an exploration of desire. It's a test, a test of its limits, a test of your own ability to lose yourself in this strange connection, this fascination that mixes pain and pleasure. It's a point of no return. And you have no desire to go back.

Your heart, like a frantic drum, is pounding so hard in your chest that you feel like it’s going to burst, each beat faster, more disordered, than it’s ever been. Adrenaline pulses through your veins, but it’s a strange feeling, a mixture of excitement and tension unlike anything you’ve ever felt, as if every fiber of your being is stretched by an invisible thread. The air around you seems to be charged with a palpable energy, a gentle but piercing electricity that electrifies the space between you, drawing you in with a magnetic force that you can neither ignore nor suppress.

Sunghoon stands there, so close, and yet every movement of his body seems torn by a pain he tries to hide, a suffering that goes beyond physical pain, something deeper, anchored in every gesture, every breath he takes. You see his tense features, the stiffness in his shoulders, as if every second spent with you is an internal struggle, and yet, something inside him pushes him to stay, not to turn away. His wounds, visible and invisible, resonate like an echo of a war he wages within himself, a silent battle, and you know it will not have an easy end. Against all odds, you feel drawn to this darkness that consumes him. It is an unhealthy curiosity, but also an irrepressible need to understand the part of him that he hides, to reach this depth that he hides so skillfully under an icy surface.

A part of you feels hopelessly captivated by his defenselessness, this raw vulnerability that he only lets glimpse on rare occasions, but these moments… these moments, they are the ones that plunge you into a whirlwind of conflicting feelings. You want to touch him, to cross this distance he tries to maintain, to show him that you know, that you feel, that you understand this pain that boils inside him. It is like a chain that twists around your heart, forcing you to move forward despite the fear, despite the doubts.

The invisible boundary between you becomes harder and harder to bear, an invisible pressure that crushes everything around you. You feel it, this tension between you two, more tangible than any words. The moment seems to stretch out in exquisite slowness, and you know that you no longer have a choice, you must move forward. Each breath seems suspended in time, and you let yourself be guided by an inexplicable force, an irresistible attraction that pushes you to cross this threshold.

Your body leans towards him slowly, as if each movement is a struggle against the inevitable. You hear his breath, becoming more panting now, heavier, and each second becomes an eternity, each beat of your heart an echo that reminds you how close Sunghoon is, how he occupies the center of everything you feel. You brush your face against his neck, your lips brushing the tender, smooth skin, yet marked by his inner struggle. The smell of sweat, of dried blood, a raw and intoxicating scent, rises between you, and everything that exists around you seems to evaporate. Nothing else matters. Only this proximity, this strange connection that binds you in this suspended moment. The outside world slowly disappears, as if everything is paused, frozen in a silent dance.

You feel yourself shivering, a heat that invades your body as you brush against him. Each sensation becomes more intense, more vivid. Your breath becomes deeper, slower, as you smell his scent more and more present, invasive. The mixture of sweat, pain, adrenaline and raw virility that emanates from him consumes you, envelops you. The brightness of his eyes, dark, but also full of something more… heavier, more elusive, hits you, and you know he feels the same way. Every part of you awakens, every desire buried in the recesses of your mind awakens with the force of a wild fire. This is no longer a simple physical attraction. It is as if your emotions are mixed with his, drawing you into a whirlwind of sensations that you can no longer ignore.

Your heart races even faster as you say the words, each syllable escaping your mouth slowly, your voice softer, more husky, like a whisper, an invitation: “Maybe you need this… maybe you need someone to make you feel something real, something raw, something painful.” Your words slide between you like a caress, but a sharp caress, one that tears at the last bulwarks of his control. They’re charged with this murky, dangerous promise, and you know they’re hitting him hard, hitting him where he’s vulnerable.

You watch his reactions, fascinated by the way his body tenses more, like a rope ready to break. He closes his eyes for a moment, and in that silence, you know he's letting your words sink into his mind, accepting this idea, accepting what you're offering him and what you expect in return. When he opens his eyes again, everything has changed. There's no more restraint, no more facade. His gaze is darker, almost bestial, but also torn, broken. In his eyes, there's a wild desire, an urgency he can no longer hide. The walls he's built are starting to crack, and something inside you burns even brighter at the sight of this fragility that's revealed.

Sunghoon whispers, his voice hoarse, thick with desire and desperation, “I don’t need someone… I need you.” The words hit you like a hammer blow. They resonate in your bones, in your mind. They’re both a promise and a confession, a raw truth he throws in your face. There’s no turning back, no escape. The reality between you becomes hotter, more present, each moment suspended in a tension that’s both heavy and exquisite.

In the silence that follows, everything collapses, everything transforms into a suspended moment, where your own emotions ignite. Your mind drowns in this intense heat, and you move forward again, this time without any more restraint, your nose brushing the warm skin of his neck, your breath burning his skin. The smell of him intoxicates you. It sucks you in, consumes you, and you lose yourself in this moment where everything, absolutely everything, seems possible. This desire that you feel, this irrepressible need for him, overwhelms you. It is no longer a simple attraction, it is a call. A call towards an abyss that you had never considered, but which, now, seems inevitable.

The touch of his hand in yours, barely perceptible at first, gradually becomes an anchor. A light grip, but so firm at the same time. His fingers slowly wrap around your palm, and a soft, almost bewitching warmth spreads through your veins. There is no rush in this gesture, but each second that his fingers remain suspended on the surface of your skin seems to prolong an instant already frozen in time. A breath escapes your lips, too light for him to notice, but enough to make you understand that a part of you is already beginning to tense, to tense in spite of yourself.

You’ve never felt this. A feeling of being suspended, of floating between two worlds. On one side, there’s you, the person you’ve always been: cautious, reserved, whole in your ability to protect yourself, to keep your heart safe from any intrusion. On the other, there’s Sunghoon. He’s looking at you, touching you, making a tangle of feelings arise in you that you can’t quite grasp. A shiver runs through you as you feel his fingers, but it’s not simply physical. No, it’s something that passes through you from the inside, a strange warmth, a sudden wave that makes you sway slightly.

It’s not a moment of gentle caress. It’s not a simple gesture of comfort. It’s much more than that. His fingers on your skin act like a key in a mechanism you hadn’t even suspected. An invisible lock opens inside you, and everything you had carefully hidden behind walls of ice begins to melt under the warmth of his hold. It’s as simple as that: he touches you, and you feel vulnerable. Every fiber of your body reacts to this contact as if a firework had just exploded inside you. You shudder, an electric shock runs through you, but it’s a delicious shiver, almost agonizing in its sweetness.

And yet, you don’t want to move. You don’t want to break this fragile balance. Your breathing quickens for no apparent reason, as if your body is starting to get ahead of your will. You feel his thumb slide lightly over the skin of your hand, in an almost hypnotic dance. There are no words, no promises. Just this gesture, this silent contact. Yet, it’s as if your whole being is screaming at you that there is much more than this simple touch. This is not a simple contact. This is a connection. A tension. An invitation.

Around you, there is no noise. No whispers, no distractions. The world seems to have frozen, as if it is waiting for you to react, to respond to what is happening between the two of you. You try to pull yourself together, to regain control of your thoughts, but it is as if you are drowning in the depth of his gaze. His eyes, black and deep, do not leave you. They scrutinize you, but not in the way you expect. No, it is as if he is trying to decipher every thought, every emotion that you try to hide. Sunghoon does not let you escape. He holds you in this silent embrace, that of his gaze and his gesture. And you cannot escape. Sunghoon is there, and he sees you. He sees you, really.

You try to look away, to look for an escape in the space around you, but you are drawn to Sunghoon like a magnet. You feel like prey, but in a strange way, it doesn't scare you. On the contrary, it is a call. A challenge. He stares at you, without blinking, without letting the slightest emotion show, except for the gleam that shines in his eyes. And you, you feel destabilized, lost in this gaze like in a calm and yet devouring ocean. It is almost unbearable. But you don't want him to let you go. No, deep down, you know that this vulnerability, this exposure, is what you want. What you seek, without really knowing why.

A heavy silence falls. The sound of your heartbeat echoes in your ears. Sunghoon is there, very close, and you can't escape his hold. And suddenly, without warning, he whispers. His voice is hoarse, as if each word is a burden he can no longer keep to himself. "I need you." Three words. Simple. Precise. But they fall on you like a shock. You try to push them away, but they slip into you, infiltrate your most secret thoughts. Need . This word vibrates in you, it resonates in your mind, then in your body. It invades you, takes you by surprise. The weight of his statement almost makes you falter. And yet, deep down, you know that he is telling the truth. It is not a question. It is not a plea. It is a certainty. A truth he doesn't even need to justify. And you know he expects something from you.

A spark of defiance lights your gaze. You have no intention of giving him this satisfaction, this ease. You want to resist, you want to keep some control, some semblance of power in this situation where everything seems to be collapsing around you. But the words that pass your lips, although spoken in an almost imperceptible breath, only succeed in betraying your own uncertainty. "Do you really think you need me?" The question hangs in the air, but it is tinged with doubt. A doubt that you do not want to acknowledge, but which is there, implacable.

His eyes harden, but he doesn't answer right away. He lets the silence stretch, like a tight rope ready to snap. You see him clench his jaw slightly, a muscle twitching with the effort of holding something back. He fights the urge to answer right away.

“I know what I’m saying,” he whispers, his voice low and gravelly, almost echoing in the air like a growl from the depths of his soul. His words seem to slither around you, slide over your skin, infiltrate every corner of your being. It’s not a simple affirmation. No. It’s a promise, a silent and threatening certainty, which seems to mark the beginning of a game whose full extent you have yet to grasp. “But you… are you ready to hear it?”

At that moment, you feel your chest tighten. The question hits your heart like an invisible punch, each syllable colliding with the walls of your resistance. A wave of heat floods your cheeks, but it’s not embarrassment, not at all. It’s much more complex than that. It’s as if something inside you is starting to move, as if an invisible thread is stretching and snapping at the same time. The heat rising inside you is like a fire, burning and uncontrollable. It’s not a simple physical reaction, a discomfort in the face of a strange or uncomfortable situation. No, it’s much deeper. It’s the feeling of losing your footing, of finding yourself on the edge between temptation and danger.

His eyes bore into yours, relentless, and you knew there was more than defiance in his gaze. There was a silent promise, a promise to shake everything. You felt it deeply, this conviction that he was ready to take you to the end of this path. All that was left between you was a question of power. And you knew, deep down, that that power belonged to Sunghoon. Not you. But maybe that power wasn’t what you expected.

You want to answer, to challenge him in turn, to prove to him that you are not weak. But just as you prepare to open your mouth, another realization dawns on you. It is obvious, a truth that flashes through you: you do not want to answer. You do not want to fight. What burns inside you is not a simple desire for control. No, what consumes you is the desire to dive, to lose yourself in this embrace of power, to no longer be the one who must always control everything, but the one who lets herself go with the wave, the one who lets herself be swallowed up.

A spark of defiance shines in your eyes, but it is veiled by a heavy realization: this is no longer about winning, about proving anything. No. This is about succumbing. And in that moment, you realize that you are ready to do it. Ready to lose everything, ready to accept what he offers you, even if you know the fall will be brutal. The thought hits you in the heart, like a bullet shot in the chest, but it is a bullet that you want to receive. Because you know, deep down, that this is all part of the challenge. And you want to play it.

The heat intensifies. It’s almost a pain, a burning in your veins. “What if I bring you more than you can bear?” The words come out of your mouth, as low and soft as the wind, but with a surprising clarity. They float in the air, heavy with meaning, full of that fragile and inevitable promise. Like a call into the void, a challenge you know he won’t be able to ignore. You see it in his eyes, the glimmer of curiosity and desire that’s born there. You see that glow transform, take on a darker, more intriguing hue. He’s only one step behind you now. He’s already following you, without knowing it, into this whirlwind you’ve just released.

The change in Sunghoon’s eyes is immediate. You see it. You feel it. It’s no longer a mere provocation, a threat. No, it’s a pact. He’s already in it, ready to lose himself just as much as you are. And you know, with a frightening certainty, that nothing will ever go back to the way it was before. You’ve seen that look change, darken. The sparkle that used to shine in his eyes is gone. Instead, there’s a kind of heartbreak, an inner struggle playing out inside him. He knows you’ve just crossed the line. And he wants to follow you down that path.

“I yearn for this,” he whispers, his voice raspy, a growl that shakes the air. The words vibrate against your chest, resonate through every fiber of your body, and you know, in that moment, that everything has changed. This is no longer a battle of wills. You’re already losing control together, falling into this madness that neither of you can stop. What you’ve feared all this time, what you’ve avoided, is now inevitable. You’ve crossed the line.

You don't hesitate anymore. Your body moves instinctively, moving closer to him, like a magnet attracting hot metal. Your breath brushes his face, a shared warmth, so close, so intimate, that you can almost taste his skin. Everything becomes blurred. The space between you no longer exists. You are there, so close to him, so vulnerable, but so eager. Your lips brush his skin. It's soft at first, almost shy, but the desire grows inside you. You want more. You want this feeling of contact to intensify, for this moment to widen, for you to come to madness. The kiss, almost imperceptible at first, becomes more pressing, more urgent, more insatiable.

His hands reach out to you, grabbing you with a wild fervor, as if he were afraid of losing you. You feel him twitch beneath your fingers, his muscles reacting to every gesture, every brush. The heat rises again, almost unbearable, a fever that you share with him. His lips find yours, and the sweetness turns into a devouring need, an urgency that you can no longer ignore. He responds to your kiss with such intensity that you are out of breath. His arms tighten around you, pressing you against him, and you feel the moment becoming more pressing, more raw, as if you were one entity.

He groans, a low, guttural sound, a silent cry of ecstasy and pain, as his hands slide into your hair, pulling you a little closer to him. Everything becomes a blur. Every sensation increases tenfold, every touch, every movement becomes a burn that consumes you. His body against yours, every breath that intertwines with yours, the kiss that becomes crazier, more desperate. The outside world disappears. There is only him, only this need that invades you, only this desire to lose you together in the unknown.

“You’re already breaking me,” Sunghoon finally says, his voice weak, cracked between pleasure and pain. It’s not a complaint. No, it’s an observation, a truth you share. And then you know that you have power. A power that no words could truly express. A power over him, over you, over this moment. You are the one who guides the dance, the one who leads this abyss with a new certainty. He is there, ready to do anything to follow you, trembling under your control. And you know it. There is no going back. You are both already engulfed in this moment. And you have no more doubts. You are ready to dive.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look at him, to observe what he feels, to see in his eyes that silent submission. “Then show me,” you breathe, your voice trembling, not with fear, but with impatience, an insatiable eagerness. It’s a challenge, but it’s also an invitation. A call. And you know he’s going to answer. He has no other choice. Because deep down, Sunghoon is as lost as you are.

Sunghoon leans towards you slowly, his gaze piercing and determined. Every inch he fills seems to stretch the air around you, an invisible but palpable pressure forming and encircling you, a vice of intensity. The space between you tightens with each breath, and you feel the tension growing, invading every part of your being, making you almost immobile under his grip. There is no more room for any thought, any distraction; there is only him, you, and this irresistible attraction that intensifies with each moment. His gaze, burning, insistent, does not leave your lips, and the air between you seems to charge with an almost tangible electricity, an energy that brushes the line between the possible and the forbidden. It is as if the whole world has suddenly evaporated, leaving only the two of you, alone, linked in this inescapable attraction, as if nothing else matters anymore. You are aware of the weight of his gaze, heavy, searching, each movement of your body becoming an enigma that he prepares to solve, a silent challenge that he wants to understand, to decipher.

The space between you seems to shrink with every breath, with every movement he makes, slowly, with that calculated slowness that makes your heart beat faster. When his lips finally brush yours, it’s an electric shock that sets you ablaze. It’s not a simple touch, no, it’s an invitation, an instinctive act, almost wild. The first few seconds are soft, almost shy, but in that softness lies an intensity that you feel immediately, like a repressed desire ready to burst. The heat of his skin burns you, and suddenly, you feel more alive than ever, every cell in your body responding to that kiss, as if your entire being were waking up.

Your heart races, each beat resonating in your chest, each quiver passing through your lips makes you shiver. His hands rest on the back of your neck, a light but firm pressure that pulls you a little closer to him, as if each centimeter of distance is torture. He guides you without a word, his hand sliding into your hair with an unexpected softness, but each gesture is also a subtle affirmation of his power. He wants to mark you, to anchor you in this moment, to make you understand without a word that he is there, that he already controls you, all the while always searching for something deeper, more intimate.

He gently tilts your head, a natural but meaningful movement. Your body follows, subjected to this invisible but powerful pressure. You feel exposed, vulnerable, but also excited by this strange sensation that rises in you, a nervous shiver running through your skin. Sunghoon takes his time, each gesture is measured, each caress unbearably slow. And it is precisely this slowness that makes the heat rise between you. You know what he is looking for, you know what he wants, but you also feel that you are losing control.

His lips find yours again, and this time there is no hesitation. His kiss becomes more urgent, more insistent. Sunghoon tastes you, explores you, your mouth mingling with his in an intoxicating dance. He pushes his tongue between your lips, discovering the softness of your mouth, but with a palpable determination, as if he intends to devour you, to make you his own. It is a shock, a shiver of desire that passes through your body in an instant, and you find yourself responding, letting your own tongue slide against his in a silent but explosive exchange. Each movement becomes more urgent, more desperate, as if the two of you are rushing to fill an unbearable void, as if this moment is your last chance to seize it all.

You feel like the space between you no longer exists, like the world around you has disappeared. There is only his lips, his tongue, his skin against yours. The sensation is devouring, you feel engulfed by it. Each touch gives rise to a shiver, each movement generates a wave of heat that spreads through your body. Sunghoon pushes you even more against him, his arms squeezing your waist, and you feel captured, a slave to this desire that invades you. You don't even want to resist, you don't want to. You let yourself go, letting yourself be overwhelmed by this kiss that consumes you. His hands slide over your skin, caressing your neck, your shoulders, a gentle but firm pressure that makes you feel both vulnerable and intensely desired.

Your breath quickens with each caress, each press of his lips against yours. You feel a growing heat inside you, an irresistible desire that makes your heart beat faster and faster. His hands move slowly, exploring every inch of your skin, drawing you into this whirlwind of sensations, passion and pleasure. His fingers brush your back, your waist, and you feel shivers run through your body. Each movement, each touch, each breath is amplified, each sensation increasing tenfold. You are aware of the proximity of his body, of the heat emanating from him, of the scent of his skin, and you feel that you are no longer in control, that you are slowly losing yourself in this flood of sensations that invades you.

Sunghoon becomes bolder, more pressing, his lips moving over your skin with an urgency that makes you shudder. He wants you, and you know it. But this isn’t mere possession, no. This is a shared desire, a fusion of bodies and souls that consumes you, makes you forget yourself. Sunghoon explores every corner of your mouth, every part of you, sucking you into this spiral of growing desire. And you respond to every touch, every pressure of his lips, every movement of his tongue. Your body responds instinctively, letting you be guided in this dance where he takes up more and more space, where he makes you his with every movement, every gesture, every caress.

The dynamic between you intensifies, intertwining in a captivating ballet of power and desire, a dance where you feel both the object of his appetite and the source of his torment. Each glance exchanged is a silent promise, an invisible thread that connects you in a dangerous game. His presence is irresistible, like a constant heat that grows more and more pressing. You know, deep down, that you have never been so close to sinking, to giving in to the inexorable attraction that unites you, but a part of you, a primal instinct, still resists. You feel that this moment could overwhelm you, leave you broken, lost in the shadow of his hold. And yet, you draw closer, drawn like prey, without really knowing who is hunting who.

The kiss he offers you is a hold, a demand that shakes you to your core. There is no more tenderness in his gesture, just an insatiable thirst to merge, to possess you. His tongue, insistent and searching your mouth with a savagery that is both brutal and exquisite, explores every corner as if he were trying to unearth something deeply buried inside you. Each shiver that runs through your body seems to awaken a part of you that you had forgotten, a devouring pleasure that mixes with the pain of your helplessness. Each gesture, each pressure of his lips becomes a declaration of domination and desire. It is not just a kiss, it is a fight, a war and a reconciliation at the same time, where each breath, each movement draws you further into this spiral.

Your heart, trapped in this senseless kiss, races in your chest, beating so hard that you feel like it's going to explode. It beats to the frantic rhythm of the dance, as if your bodies were one and the same being, guided by a tempo that escapes all logic, an intoxicating and merciless melody. You cling to him, instinctively, feeling your legs wobble beneath you, as if you were floating, suspended between ecstasy and falling. You feel both out of control and irresistibly drawn, trapped between the dizziness of desire and the fear of losing everything.

When his lips finally pull away from yours, you are left panting, an abysmal emptiness invading your being. An uncontrollable shiver runs through your body. The anticipation, burning and unbearable, devours you, every fiber of your being calling for his return, seeking that warmth, that intensity that consumes you. It is as if you are a flickering flame, ready to go out without him, but he does not give in right away. His hand finds your waist again, exerting a gentle but assured pressure, and his hot breath becomes more intimate, closer. Then Sunghoon returns to you, his tongue finding yours with an insatiable hunger. He leaves you no choice but to abandon yourself, to give in to him. You have become an extension of himself, your will erased by the power of his desire. Each shiver that runs through you marks you, an indelible signature that he inscribes in you with each contact.

The world around you dissolves in this heat, carried away by the intensity of this bond you share. A dizziness invades you, and you are no longer sure who you are in this fiery dance. Are you the mistress or the victim of this union? It is a new sensation, a perverse pleasure of being both desired and possessed, loved and broken. This mixture of intensity, ecstasy and vulnerability makes you lose all bearings. You feel powerful and fragile at the same time, bewitched by the web of his desire.

Sunghoon becomes a reassuring and devastating force at the same time. His kiss is not a simple exchange, but a bond that unites you in a new, frightening and fascinating way. His hands, greedy, rest on your skin as if he were exploring you, seeking to understand you, to conquer you. You lose yourself in this whirlwind of sensations, in the complex alchemy of pleasure and pain, desire and anguish. His breath panting against your skin, his lips pressing against you, each gesture is an exquisite torture, a complete abandonment, a total commitment to this journey of no return.

When he finally pulls away slightly, you barely realize how much time has passed. His face is marked by the passion that binds you, his lips still swollen, shiny with the echo of your kisses. His dark eyes stare at you with such intensity that you have the impression that he is tearing apart the last layers of your soul, seeking to pierce all your secrets, to discover each of your desires. The silence that settles between you is heavy, almost palpable, each breath, each shudder creating a spark in the air, charged with this invisible but obvious electricity.

Sunghoon places a possessive hand on your waist, holding you close to him in a way that is both protective and assertive, as if to remind you how much you belong to him. His heart beats hard, irregular, synchronizing with yours in a wild dance that vibrates the space around you. Each shudder, each breath that escapes your lips seems to excite him more. And in this whirlwind of emotions, you lose yourself, carried away by this burning desire. You know that you abandon yourself to him, body and soul, with no way back.

Your hand slides slowly along his shoulder, desperate to catch your breath. Each touch seems to amplify the tension between you, each movement becomes a delicate dance, a game of seduction where the line between control and loss of self becomes more and more blurred. He stares at you intensely, his eyes deep into yours, an almost animalistic glow illuminating his gaze, a glow that makes you shiver, overwhelms you with a sudden warmth. “You are so pretty, princess,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse, almost a growl, “but I need more… so much more.” His words resonate in you like a haunting melody that you can no longer ignore. They awaken an intense desire in you, a desire to abandon yourself entirely, to offer everything to him, to lose yourself in this devouring passion that seems to want to encompass every part of your being.

His fingers brush your skin with an almost calculated slowness, as if he wanted to mark you, to imbue you with his presence. They slide along your waist, going lower, resting on your hips, and the warmth of his palm against your skin makes you shiver. He grabs you firmly, a gesture that is not gentle, but which makes you feel, deeply, that he wants to associate you with him, that he wants to possess every fiber of your being. He pushes you gently, but with a possessive determination, onto the couch, installing you in the position he desires, forcing you to look at him, to feel him, to understand that you can no longer escape him. He kneels in front of you, and in this suspended moment, everything seems to dissipate. There is only the two of you left, drowned in an intimate bubble, saturated with desire, where each movement, each breath creates an intensity that invades you. The pressure of his hands, the warmth of his gaze... All this reminds you that you are no longer mistress of anything, that everything, absolutely everything, depends on him.

You want to resist him, to regain some semblance of control, but something inside you urges you to stay there, to submit to the electric sensation that invades you. Your breathing becomes more irregular, each breath more gasping, as his words, almost a plea, echo in your mind: “Be my medicine… I need you so much.” His gaze doesn’t leave yours, and you know he’s talking about more than just your body. It’s not simply a physical attraction, but a desperate quest. He’s looking for an escape, a refuge in the sea of his own torment, and you are that light in his darkness, the one he desires more than anything. A part of you feels irremediably linked to him, as if his desire has inscribed an indelible mark on you.

His fingers now play with the elastic of your pajamas, lifting them gently, as if to test your limits, his gestures full of tenderness but also of a palpable provocation. Each brush of his skin against yours makes you shiver, each movement seems to increase the desire in you, a wave of heat that overwhelms you. Your heart beats faster, a jerky breath, as the heat rises in you, uncontrollable. You sigh, a bittersweet sensation invading your being, as you find yourself at his mercy. You instinctively lift your hips to help him remove your garment, and the moment becomes unreal, almost suspended in time. The touch of his hands on your skin makes you lose all sense of yourself, and your body reacts without you being able to control it. The thrill of anticipation overwhelms you, as you lose yourself in the warmth of this shared moment.

When he removes your panties, his eyes shine with a devouring greed, a possessive glow that makes a wave of vulnerability rise in you. You see the raw passion that drives him, this sweet madness that drives him to want everything about you, to know everything, to see everything. “Don’t hide my view, Y/n, I want to see everything… of you.” His voice is a hungry whisper, almost a prayer, and as he gently spreads your thigh, he discovers your nudity with an almost obsessive intensity. His eyes rest on every curve of your body, searching for every detail like a painter admiring his work. He seems to swallow every inch of you, and this attention, this fixation, makes you feel vulnerable, but in a way you’ve never known, as if this moment, this look, will mark you forever.

“She’s the prettiest cat I’ve ever seen, princess,” Sunghoon whispers, his raspy voice slipping through the oppressive silence of the room like a gentle, yet relentless blade. He doesn’t speak, he slides each word, each syllable, as if he’s trying to mark you, to sink that sentence into your skin. His dark, abysmal black eyes don’t just stare at you, they devour you. You feel your soul shrink under that intense gaze, every part of you swallowed up in that obsession, that insatiable desire.

Your whole body reacts to his presence, but it’s not the simple discomfort of being observed. No, it’s something more primal, more visceral. You are nothing more than an offered silhouette, stripped not only of your clothes, but also of all your protections, all your barriers. He hasn’t simply made you take off your pants, he’s stripped you of your dignity, of your independence. In this room, you are nothing more than a body, a prey, a thing laid bare down to your soul, under the relentless force of his gaze. Every inch of your skin seems to burn under the bite of his attention, every fiber of your being screams at you to flee, but he is there, he is everywhere, and you have nowhere to go.

Sunghoon doesn’t just look at you, he devours you, scanning you from top to bottom, every detail of your being subject to his judgment. The heat emanating from you becomes more burning, a diffuse wave that seems to radiate from your belly, rising in you like a raging sea. And yet, you can’t help but shudder under his gaze, to tense in spite of yourself, like a taut thread ready to break. Your breathing becomes shorter, more panting, the air thickening under the intensity of his gaze and his presence. Each inhalation seems to burn your throat, and each exhalation is an effort, as if the simple act of breathing became a fight against this irrepressible desire that grows within you.

His warm breath brushes your skin, sliding over your thigh, then over your private parts, that area you would like to keep secret, but which offers itself to him without resistance. He doesn't need to touch you to create this burning sensation. The simple touch of his breath is enough to awaken a destabilizing reaction in you. An uncontrollable shiver runs through your body, a shiver of pleasure and terror, leaving you vulnerable, exposed in a position you had never imagined occupying. It is a gentle burn, almost unbearable in its insistence. Each second seems to stretch under this intangible caress, pulling you little by little towards an abyss from which you don't know whether you want to escape or throw yourself headlong into it.

His hand then slides over your knee, light, almost undetectable. But you feel it, you feel it, each movement of his fingers against your skin is like an electric shock. His fingers are slightly rough, but it is this roughness that makes the contact even more intense, more sensual. He traces a lazy line on the inside of your thigh, and each centimeter traveled makes you shiver more. He is in no hurry, he savors each moment, each gesture, as if you were just an object that he could manipulate as he pleases. The contact is so delicate, so subtle, that it becomes torture, a gentle, insidious torture, which slowly builds up inside you. A dull tension is born deep in your stomach, unbearable, like a rope stretched to the limit, ready to break under the pressure.

But Sunghoon doesn't hurry. He finally moves, but so slowly, as if he has all the time in the world. As if your impatience is just a game, a game that he takes cruel pleasure in. He feels that you are burning, that he is consuming you little by little, and he feeds on this impatience that devours you from the inside. His lips, finally, land on the inside of your thigh, and it is as if the whole world disappears in this burning caress. The kiss is heavy with meaning, almost too intense to be simply a kiss. It leaves behind a trail of heat, an indelible mark on your skin, but also on your mind. It is not an innocent kiss, it is a promise. A promise that you already know is dangerous, but that you wait for in spite of yourself. It is a disguised threat, a threat that you feel in every fiber of your being. You know what is coming, you feel the storm rising in your belly, but it is too late to back down.

You want to twist, to run away, to escape this unbearable tension, but his hands, firm and possessive, rest on your hips, pinning you to the spot. He holds you there, keeping you in this imposed immobility, as if you no longer had the right to move, as if your freedom no longer had any meaning. He dominates you with his gaze, his gestures, and you are powerless, trapped by the force of his desire and by the invisible web that he weaves around you.

And time seems to have frozen, but the heat continues to rise, invading every part of your being, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. And you're not even sure if you want to jump, or if you want it to slowly push you into the abyss.

When his tongue finally leaves his lips and rests on your skin, brushing the soft surface of your thigh, you feel as if time has stopped. Your breath catches in a stifled moan, as if this simple contact has just broken the invisible barrier between desire and reality. This is not a simple kiss; it is an explosion of pure pleasure, a shiver that runs down your body, insinuating itself into every fiber of your skin, leaving you both troubled and exhilarated. This contact is both gentle and brutal, a caress that gives birth to a delicious pain, an explosive mix of pleasure and malice. He does not rush, on the contrary, he takes his time. Each movement of his tongue is an invisible drawing traced on your skin, slowly exploring every inch of your flesh with an exquisite slowness, almost cruel.

Every lick he gives is perfectly controlled, calculated, but no less sensual. His pauses are deliberate, a heavy silence that makes you languish. And yet, these suspended moments themselves become a form of domination, a silent but undeniable power. He holds you there, between pleasure and expectation, forcing you to submit to his total mastery, at this moment when you are nothing more than a body, a sensation, a response to his gestures.

His gaze fixed on you, unwavering, is almost more powerful than his gestures. It’s not just a look, it’s a sharp weapon that infiltrates you, capturing every shudder of your body, every reaction, every uncontrolled breath that escapes your lips. He scrutinizes you with an almost possessive intensity, analyzing every tremor, every movement, as if your body were a riddle that he’s trying to solve. He sees everything: the way you arch your back, instinctively seeking to offer your skin more to his lips, the muffled sounds, the moans that escape in spite of yourself, like music that only he can direct. There’s nothing in you that he doesn’t control, nothing that he doesn’t silently claim.

Finally, his lips reach the place where you are most vulnerable. The softness that envelops them at first deceives you, because beneath this apparent tenderness hides an inflexible determination. Sunghoon explores the contours of your intimacy with an unreal slowness, an almost inhuman patience. Your head tilts back under the intensity of what he provokes. You feel yourself writhing under him, but it is not pain - it is the effect of an unbearable tension that rises in you, stronger and stronger. His tongue slides against you, at first with an almost timid lightness, before asserting itself, with such precision that it creates waves of pleasure in you that overwhelm you, opening you up a little more with each movement. He traces slow and measured circles, each gesture a challenge, each passage of his tongue a promise of deeper ecstasy. And you, your body reacts before you are even aware of it, each muscle tense, each breath becoming a silent cry that transforms into a broken, almost animal melody.

“Look at me, princess,” he whispers suddenly, his voice deep and commanding. A whisper that vibrates your soul and resonates in your insides, a demand that is both demanding and possessive. Your eyelids, heavy with the weight of pleasure, open slowly, your eyes seeking to meet his. And when they meet, you see this glint that takes your breath away. There is a dark satisfaction in his gaze, an almost unhealthy pride that brushes against you, penetrates you. This glint of triumph in his eyes gives birth to an even rawer vulnerability in you, a feeling of absolute submission that you had not expected to feel.

Sunghoon's movements become bolder, more assertive. His tongue delves deeper, seeking to explore you even further, while his thumb, firm, joins in the game, brushing your clitoris with a light but determined movement. A shiver runs through your body, your legs tense under the assault of raw pleasure that invades every cell of your skin. You feel yourself wavering, on the edge of the abyss, but unable to turn away from it. Each new wave that rises within you is more intense, more devastating, and yet, Sunghoon does not give you the respite of a break. He always pushes, with a gentle but irresistible insistence, digging a little deeper into this delicious pain that you cannot escape.

Your breath becomes more and more erratic, your breathing broken, each moan echoing the intensity of what he makes you feel. You try to grab onto something, your hands reaching out to find an anchor, and it is in his hair that you end up clinging, your fingers digging into the hold like a last hope of regaining some illusion of control. But you know, deep down, that it is only an illusion. You are already at his mercy, your movements dictated by his gestures, your will erased by his power.

“You want more, princess?” Sunghoon’s voice, hot and mocking, caresses your skin like a promise of forbidden pleasure. He doesn’t even wait for your answer, he immediately resumes, his mouth closing over your pussy, his tongue delving deeper, more furiously, while his thumb presses more firmly, playing with your body like an instrument he knows better than anyone. A devastating wave of pleasure washes over you, completely overwhelming you, leaving you trembling, helpless, unable to control the uncontrollable moans that escape your lips.

You are nothing more than an object in his hands, a puppet, every thread of your being tense under his gestures. The heat takes hold of you, becomes unbearable, devouring, and yet, you have only one desire: for him to continue. Each pressure, each lick of his tongue brings you a little closer to ecstasy, but also to the breaking point, that moment when you are nothing more than a cry, a sigh, a total surrender.

“Sunghoon…” you whisper, your voice cracking, almost strangled by the tension of the moment. It’s a silent plea, a plea for him to stop playing with your nerves, to finally let you give in. But he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t just not answer, he intensifies the assault on your senses. He redoubles his attention, his warm tongue finally curling around your most sensitive spot, exploring that intimate fold with an almost inhuman precision. A scream escapes your throat, a pure, primal, raw sound that you don’t recognize as your own. You feel like you’re being suffocated by pleasure, completely consumed.

He devours you. Literally. His lips, soft but full of undeniable possessiveness, close around you. He sucks gently, with perfect pressure, then releases, in a hypnotic rhythm. Each movement, each aspiration makes you gradually lose all sense of time and space. It's as if the whole world only exists in the moment he touches you, when he makes you his. His licks are silent promises, mute declarations of his domination, of his power. His mouth explores, savors, consumes, as if it were trying to engrave each sensation in your skin, in your memory, in his.

You try to hold yourself back, to stem the rising tide of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you. But it’s futile. Your legs start to shake, your breaths become erratic, jerky, as a burning heat builds in your belly, radiating, spreading through every fiber of your body. Your mind wanders in a haze of desire, but you’re still fully aware of every movement of his tongue, every pressure of his hands that hold you in place, firm but delicate. His thumbs trace lazy circles on the inside of your thighs, skimming your skin with exquisite slowness, as if he’s trying to quell the fire he’s lighting inside you, while also exacerbating the heat that’s already burning beneath your skin.

“You taste amazing,” he suddenly murmurs against your skin, his voice muffled by your pussy. The simple admission makes you lose your footing. It’s like every word, every breath he lets out against you, adds a layer of shivers to your spine. A wave of pure pleasure courses through you, wrenching a moan from you, a sound that speaks to the way he’s breaking you, the way he’s making you succumb to his will.

Sunghoon's movements become bolder, more urgent. His tongue sinks deeper, exploring every fold, every curve of your flesh with an almost animalistic greed, an urgent need to discover you, to apprehend you entirely. Sunghoon is both tender and insatiable, seeking to make you lose all rationality. His eyes then rise to you, seeking your gaze. When your eyes finally meet, you see in his eyes an intensity that makes you waver, a raw, deep, inextinguishable desire. He wants to see every tremor, every shudder, every sigh that betrays your pleasure. He wants to seize everything, savor everything, as if each reaction were a personal victory.

Your body reacts without you having to think, arching instinctively, pressing your pelvis against his face, desperate to finally find that climax he makes you wait for, that he makes you desire with every movement of his tongue. Your hand tightens in his hair, your fingers gripping his thick locks tighter, tugging them lightly, but not to pull him away, no, to anchor him even deeper against you. He groans in response, a low, raspy, almost animalistic sound that vibrates against your flesh, a sound that resonates within you, sending even stronger waves of pleasure through your body.

“Yes… there… don’t stop,” you gasp, your voice trembling, almost unrecognizable, full of pleading and need. But he has no intention of stopping. On the contrary, he redoubles his efforts, his tongue dancing with inhuman precision. He alternates between slow, pressed movements, deep, sustained caresses, and faster, almost frantic strokes that make you see stars, make you lose all bearings, all sense of reality.

The room disappears around you. There is nothing else. No more walls, no more noise, no more thoughts. There is only him: his hot lips, his expert tongue, his hands possessive and assertive. You are suspended in this state of altered consciousness, each caress propelling you higher, each vibration of his moan against you sending waves of pleasure through your entire being. He is all you feel, all you experience, and you let yourself be carried away, entirely, by the force of his desire, by the force of his control.

The pressure builds inside you, inexorable, a hot and overwhelming wave that you can no longer contain. It’s a feeling of urgency, of intensity, that squeezes your chest and gently suffocates you, forcing you to fight against the irrepressible urge to let go. You know that you are about to lose everything, to abandon everything to this overwhelming wave of pleasure that is preparing to surge over you. “Sunghoon… I… I’m going to…” You want to finish your sentence, to tell him everything that crosses your mind, but the words escape you. Your breath catches, your breath becomes short and panting, and before you can even finish your thought, an explosion of sensations hits you full force.

The orgasm overwhelms you in a raw explosion, every fiber of your body tensing in a wave of pure pleasure. You scream his name, a voice strangled by the intensity, echoing through the room like a desperate, almost uncontrollable echo. It's like the world has frozen around you, all you can feel, all you can understand, is him. It's his tongue, his hands, his body against you, that prolong this dizzying whirlwind until you can no longer distinguish where you end and where he begins. Your body arches violently, trying to escape the intensity, but at the same time, it tenses, tenses even more, demanding this infinite sensation that he grants you with such mastery. He holds you firmly, his hands pressed against your body, forcing you to remain present in this moment where everything else no longer exists.

Sunghoon continues, unwavering, prolonging your pleasure to the extreme. Each movement of his tongue, each friction of his mouth against you seems like a thunderclap in your mind, each new surge of pleasure a bittersweet torture. Your breath becomes erratic, jerky, and you feel your heart beating at a frantic pace, as if your whole body has decided to melt into this irresistible sensation, to make it an integral part of it.

Finally, after this whirlwind of emotions and sensations, when the wave of pleasure slowly begins to fade, you let yourself fall back, your body heavy, but in a deeply fulfilled way. A soft and exhausting heat runs through your veins, like a fire that is slowly dying out, but whose ashes continue to spread a comforting warmth. Each breath becomes slower, deeper, and the world around you seems to dissolve in a veil of softness, as if the air itself were becoming muffled to better give way to this fragile serenity. You are exhausted, but in a strange, almost euphoric state, where every fiber of your being seems to vibrate to the rhythm of what has just happened. Sunghoon, however, does not rush. He straightens up slowly, with that almost supernatural grace that is unique to him, a satisfied and quiet smile on his lips. His eyes, dark and piercing, shine with an almost animal satisfaction, as if a part of him has just been sated. You feel an indefinable connection, a palpable tension between you, a breath hanging in the air, marking the silence after the storm.

And you know that what you shared is unique. It is a silent communion, but also dark and obscure, a dance between light and shadow, where desire and domination intertwine with a force both brutal and gentle. It is not simply attraction; it is much more complex. It is a bond marked by devotion, a form of submission, an inextinguishable desire that seems to have anchored itself in your bodies, in your souls.

Sunghoon approaches then, slowly, each calculated movement resonating like a heartbeat in the heavy silence of the room. His body gives off an almost tangible, imposing presence. You can't help but shiver under the intensity of his attention, an attention that envelops you and squeezes you in its invisible grip. When he sits down next to you on the couch, this simple gesture becomes heavy with meaning. He moves closer still, slightly, but enough for you to feel his weight on you, like a burden you can't escape. His eyes, deep black, fix on you, piercing you with a gaze that seems to want to penetrate every corner of your soul. This fixation, this almost palpable obsession, freezes you in place. You feel trapped, totally vulnerable under his scrutiny, your body and soul exposed like prey under the gaze of a predator.

Without a word, he takes you in his arms. This gesture is not a simple caress. It is a complex embrace, a tangle of tenderness and strength. The warmth of his hands mixes with the possessive, almost brutal embrace. His arms tighten around your waist, pulling you even closer to him, as if to impregnate your body with his presence. Every inch of your skin must feel his touch, his domination. You feel an intense heat, but also a sweet pain, a sensation both exquisite and overwhelming. Each movement of his hands seems to be a silent claim, an affirmation of his desire. It is as if he wants to mark your body, to impregnate you with him, to possess you irrevocably.

He slowly slides his hand under your t-shirt, his fingers cold at first, but quickly warming up as they touch your skin. The contact is of a rare intimacy, of such intensity that it seems to graze not only your body, but also every corner of your mind, starting a fire with each brush. His gestures are measured, no haste. He savors every second, every reaction of your body, every shiver that crosses your skin. His fingers move with a controlled slowness, tracing invisible lines on your stomach, before slowly going back up, brushing your skin, his nails delicately caressing your epidermis. He gives you a glimpse of the promise of a sweet pain, a sensation that makes you sway, that overwhelms you with pleasure mixed with a hint of fear. The shiver that takes you, light at first, becomes more and more insistent, your breathing quickening, like a natural response to the intensity of his gestures. Every tremor of your body is a response to him alone, a dance between desire and fear, a sensation that grips you from the inside, a mixture of overwhelming desire and intoxicating terror. This thrill, this thrilling sense of danger, you know can only be caused by him, and him alone.

While holding you like this, captive in his arms, he leans down slowly. You feel his breath settle near your hair, warm and deep. He places a kiss there, but it is not a trivial kiss. It is a kiss loaded with meaning, as if he wanted to soak up you, your scent, your presence. He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply the scent of your hair, as if he wanted every fiber of his being to gorge itself on your essence. It is no longer just your body that he seeks to possess, it is your soul, your spirit, everything that you are. He wants everything about you, and he takes it from you with a calculated gentleness, a form of almost religious devotion. A satisfied smile slowly forms on his lips. A smile that you do not see, but that you feel in each movement of his body against yours. He is proud, almost triumphant, as if he has just conquered a territory. In this sweet tension, you feel more submissive, more vulnerable than ever.

You slowly turn your head towards him, your body trembling under the intensity of his gaze. You feel the heat of his presence invade every inch of your space, a heat that seems to burn your skin, crossing the thin barrier of your short breath. You slowly lift your face, and when your eyes meet his, you are struck by a glow of almost frightening intensity. His eyes, black with desire and determination, shine with a wild glow, a glow that makes a hint of apprehension grow in you, but also an irresistible attraction. It is as if this gaze is an abyss, an unfathomable depth into which you feel ready to plunge, even if you know that you could lose all control there.

“You’re so handsome…” you whisper, your voice soft, fragile, almost strangled by the emotion bubbling inside you. Each word seems hesitant to come out, as if it were too heavy to bear. A wave of heartbreaking tenderness invades you, but it is quickly caught up in the storm of anguish rumbling inside you.

How can a man so broken, so intense, be such a source of both light and darkness in your heart?

He doesn’t answer right away. He looks at you, and in his eyes, you see things you can’t name. It’s both consuming and destabilizing. You feel naked under his gaze, vulnerable in a way you’ve never known. And yet, part of you wants nothing more than to lose yourself in this vulnerability, to abandon your defenses, to let him dominate you. But another part of you screams to protect yourself, to run away, to keep a safe distance.

Slowly, as if each movement was calculated, you detach yourself from him, just enough to observe his face. His features are marked by violence, by pain, and yet, there is an undeniable beauty in this broken face. The scars that adorn his skin are the silent witnesses of internal and external battles. There is a brutality in his beauty, a raw tension that captivates you, fascinates you. You gently run your fingers over his cheek, brushing a purple bruise that makes you shiver. You know that he has suffered, that each mark on his face is a memory of a fight he did not choose. But all of this makes him even more human, even closer to you, and you want to repair this suffering.

You step closer to him, pressing a kiss to his skin, a kiss so delicate it seems almost unreal, as if you fear it will disappear under your touch. But more than that, you fear the way that simple yet charged gesture resonates within you. It’s a kiss of admiration, a kiss of devotion, a kiss that carries within it a promise of care that you know you may never be able to keep. But you try, again and again, as if each kiss can erase the pain, as if each brush of your lips is an attempt to ease what he carries deep inside. You kiss each mark, each scar, with an almost obsessive gentleness, as if you can erase it all, as if you can repair what he’s lost.

With each kiss, you feel the air between you fill with a palpable tension, more and more suffocating. His breaths come faster, deeper, almost desperate. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you a little closer to him, until you are almost against him. His body gives off a raw heat, a heat that makes you forget everything else, that erases everything except him and you, in this suspended moment. You lean down gently to kiss his black eye, a light kiss, almost invisible, but loaded with everything you can't say. It's a silent caress, a way of telling him that you know, that you see what he is wearing, that you accept all of this without judgment.

Sunghoon's fingers dig into your flesh, forcing you to lie further against him. His warmth overwhelms you, and you don't even dare to move, because each movement brings you a little closer to this irreversibility, to this point of no return. He pulls you even closer, and you feel his body press against yours, as if he wants to merge with you, as if he needs you to exist. His gaze, still so intense, plunges into yours, and you can see the depth of what lies behind it, the raw possessiveness, the need to never let you go.

His words, heavy with certainty, hit your heart like a punch. “Don’t think for a moment that I’m going to let you go. I’m not ready to lose you, Y/n. Not now, not ever.” The strength of his voice grabs you, and you feel a pressure on your chest, as if his desperation is suffocating you. His arms around you force you to feel him stronger and stronger, as if every gesture, every word, every breath only intensifies this pressure between you.

The room becomes an enclosed space, reduced to the two of you and the intensity of the moment. You almost feel like you can't breathe anymore, as if the air itself is thickening, saturated with the electricity of your emotions. Before you can even react, he leans over you, his lips brushing your ear, his hot breath caressing your skin. "I've fallen in love with you, and I can't go back. It's an obsession, a need... You're everything to me." These words resonate in your skull, and you feel them making their way into your insides. A mixture of euphoria and fear invades you, and you feel something breaking inside you. You're afraid, but there's this part of you, this dark part that pushes you to let go, to lose yourself completely in this devouring passion.

“Sunghoon, I…” you begin, but you’re interrupted before you can even finish your sentence. He cuts you off, this time with a desperate impatience that resonates in the air, permanently breaking any distance between you.

“Let me show you how serious I am. Tomorrow I’ll take you on a date, and you’ll see… I want you to feel what I feel. I’ll do anything for you.” His words, heavy with dark promises and unspoken passion, hit the air around you like a hypnotic melody, a melody you can no longer ignore. Every word, every glance you exchange, becomes a promise of pleasure and pain, a promise of dark delights that only you can understand.

He lays down on the couch, pulling you with him, your resistance crumbling under the force of his desire and your own need for comfort. Your head falls to his chest, his arms wrapping around you like a second skin, holding you against him with an almost desperate intensity. His warmth envelops you, his scent of musk and leather invading your senses, forcing you to cling to him like an anchor, as if his presence is all you need to breathe.

His fingers slide slowly along your shoulder blade, tracing invisible lines on your skin. Each gesture seems imbued with a desire to hold on to this moment, to engrave it within him, like an invisible but indelible imprint.

Yet a moment of lucidity strikes you. You try to straighten up, gently placing your hands against his chest, exerting a measured pressure so as not to awaken the pain of his injuries further. But he refuses to let you go. His arms, firm and unwavering, tighten around you with a force that surprises you, as if letting go means losing much more than a simple contact. No matter the pain that seems to run through him, nothing seems more important to him than keeping you there, right against him.

You feel the tension in his body, almost palpable. His muscles contract under your fingers, his jaw clenched, betraying the effort he's making to hide the pain that's cutting into his nerves. Despite everything, he doesn't release his grip. His arms, firm but desperate, hold you with an almost disconcerting intensity, as if letting go meant losing much more than this moment.

His breath, slightly irregular, brushes your forehead, warm and disturbing. You feel his head tilt gently. His eyelids close slowly, as if he were trying to capture every second of this fragile and precious moment. It's not just a simple physical contact: it's a deeper need, almost visceral, a dull and almost animal fear of seeing you escape.

The silence thickens in the room. It becomes heavy, oppressive, amplified by the rhythm of your breaths that begin to match each other, in a strange synchronicity. Each breath you take seems to take root in him, as if your presence alone manages to soothe something in him, much deeper than the pain in his body. Yet, you feel it, this internal struggle he is waging: between the suffering he endures and this irrepressible need to keep you close to him, as if you were the only thing that could still keep him standing.

“You’re like a drug, Y/n,” Sunghoon suddenly whispers, breaking the silence with an unsettling sweetness. His voice, husky and slightly raspy, insinuates itself into the air like a white-hot caress. The words hit you hard, carrying a raw, almost terrifying truth. “Every time I touch you, I lose control a little more.”

There’s something electric in his voice, an almost tangible vibration, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and desire so raw that your breath catches. You look up at him, captivated, unable to look away. His face, marked by pain, is lit up with an intensity that’s almost unbearable. Those words, so simple in appearance, seep into you, resonating deeply, as if they carry the weight of a secret he’s told no one.

You feel an intense heat rising inside you. It starts in your chest, spreading like a wave until it invades every part of your being. Your fingers tremble slightly, and your heart races, unable to ignore what he has just said. It is not a simple declaration of desire. It is a confession, an admission of dependence, almost an obsession. And you, at the heart of it all, find yourself torn between a visceral fear and an irrepressible attraction.

Because this intensity, this darkness that burns within him, attracts you as much as it terrifies you.

You want to answer, but no words come out. You are frozen, prisoner of his gaze. That dark, piercing eye pierces you, lays you bare. It seems to read you, decipher every corner of your soul, every thought you try to hide. That look, loaded with desire and possessiveness, exposes you in a way you can't control. You feel vulnerable, helpless, unable to hide.

He leans in slightly, bringing his face closer to yours, and the air between you becomes thick, almost suffocating. “Promise me you’ll never leave,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, but trembling with an emotion he can barely contain.

His words resonate like a plea. A crack opens in the armor he wears so proudly, revealing a fragility he shows to no one. He is no longer the strong, unwavering man you have before you. He is someone human, someone who is afraid. A visceral, almost painful fear of losing you, of finding himself alone. This fragility that he offers you, almost against his will, upsets you.

Your heart tightens, a wave of tenderness and pain overwhelms you. Everything he is, all this intensity, this flickering light in the depths of his gaze, calls to you irresistibly. You know that this bond that unites you is as powerful as it is dangerous. A magnetic force that could elevate you as much as destroy you. But backing down is not an option.

“I’m not leaving,” you finally whisper, your voice soft but firm, carried by a certainty you didn’t know you possessed. You stare into his eyes, determined for him to understand the sincerity of your words. “I want to see how far this can take us.”

A shadow crosses his face, quickly replaced by something else. His lips slowly stretch into a smile, but it’s not a light smile. It’s a smile charged with complex emotions: relief, gratitude, and maybe even a hint of triumph. He nods slowly, as if finally accepting that he won’t have to fight alone.

His grip loosens slightly, just enough to allow you to breathe, but he pulls you even closer. His forehead gently rests against yours, and you close your eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the warmth of this moment. His fingers, light and hesitant, brush the skin of your back, drawing imperceptible circles. Each gesture seems imbued with a fierce desire to engrave this moment in his memory, like a souvenir to which he can cling.

His breathing, warm and soothing, mixes with yours. You feel his heart beating, slowly, echoing yours. This moment, this connection, goes beyond simple physical contact. It’s a silent pact, a shared promise: no matter the darkness that surrounds you, you will no longer face it alone.

The darkness thickens around you, soft and enveloping. But this time, it doesn't scare you. You are certain of one thing, inexplicable and yet unshakable: no matter what happens, you are linked.

The glass walls of the aquarium seemed suspended in a sea of blue light, a soft, mystical glow that bathed the space like an invisible caress. With each heartbeat of this translucent ocean, the fish glided silently around you, their shiny, iridescent bodies drawing delicate arabesques in the water. The air itself seemed to grow heavy, as if time had chosen to slow down here, in this other world, where every movement, every breath seemed suspended in a fragile balance. Everything seemed like a waking dream, a perfect illusion, where reality melted into a hypnotic dance of light and shadow.

You and Sunghoon walked side by side, your hands intertwined, your fingers brushing and searching for each other. Each of your steps was imbued with gentleness, but also with an invisible tension, like a taut rope ready to give way. The silence between you was not heavy, but loaded with a thousand unsaid things. An electric tension floated between you, palpable, as if you were suspended between two worlds. Around you, the fish danced, indifferent to this human tension, but between you, there was something more, something that neither water nor glass could filter. Each gesture, each breath was like a silent challenge, a call for intimacy, but also for the space that each of you seemed to seek while never wanting to move away.

Sunghoon looked at you, not with curiosity, but with a kind of devouring intensity, as if he were trying to read you down to the smallest corner of your soul. His eyes, dark and deep, scrutinized you with an almost inquisitive interest, seeking to decipher the secrets that you tried to hide behind your smile. He loved this part of you that revealed itself to the world, when you lost yourself in the wonders of the aquarium. He loved seeing the spark of fascination on your face, this spark of purity that shone each time you discovered a rare shell or a brightly colored fish. But he also loved seeing you abandon yourself for a moment to this wonder, only to return to yourself, to him, in the blink of an eye. "You are so fascinated by these little things," he said, his voice soft, almost caressing, but sharp as a blade. A mischievous smile played on his lips, a smile that said more than words. It was both a compliment and a mockery, a way of reminding you that he knew you well, maybe even too well.

At these words, you answered him immediately, your expression hardening into a mock-indignant pout. You frowned, feigning anger, but your eyes betrayed the malice bubbling inside you. “I don’t see why that makes you laugh,” you said, a spark of humor in your voice, like a promise of complicity. And yet, with each glance he gave you, you felt the heat of his gaze cross your skin, the pressure of a barely restrained desire, of an infinite attention that made you shiver. There was something in the way he looked at you, a mixture of possessiveness and unsatisfied desire, as if he saw you through every expression, every gesture you made. It wasn’t just a look. It was an exploration.

“I’m really glad you brought me here,” you finally whispered, your breath light, your heart beating faster with each moment you spent together in this suspended world. You squeezed his hand in yours, feeling the warmth of his skin, this warmth that seemed to comfort you while reminding you of the presence of an invisible danger. There was a strange and almost hypnotic beauty in this moment, as if everything around you was frozen, and only your bond really existed. But at this precise moment, a movement in the water caught your attention. A shark, majestic and disturbing, was slowly approaching, its mouth wide open, ready to show its frightening teeth. A shiver of fear mixed with curiosity ran through you. You instinctively backed away, seeking refuge, without really thinking about it, behind Sunghoon. Fear, as light as a breath, mixed with fascination. It was just a water creature, and yet it seemed so close, so threatening.

But Sunghoon laughed, a rich, warm, deep laugh that vibrated through you, resonating in your bones. The laugh, both mocking and protective, made you feel vulnerable and safe at the same time. He turned to you, a bright smile on his lips, and cupped your face in his hands. The softness of his gestures contrasted strangely with the underlying strength of his movements. His fingers brushed your skin, his palms warm against your cheeks. “It’s just a shark,” he joked, but his tone was charged with something more, a mixture of amusement and defiance. There was an unspoken promise in his words, a sort of silent complicity that said: It’s okay, I’m here. But at the same time, his gaze didn’t leave you. He scrutinized every part of your face, perhaps trying to understand what you were feeling, what you didn’t necessarily want to tell him.

“Why are you hiding? You seem so happy to be here,” he whispered, his eyes burning with an almost dangerous intensity. It wasn’t just a question. It was a silent challenge, an unspoken plea to pierce the barrier you had erected around yourself. His gaze was piercing, searching you, trying to tear through your mask, to reveal what you had carefully concealed. He didn’t want your words, he wanted to understand, everything, down to the depths of your soul, as if this truth was his by right.

A sudden heat filled your cheeks, like a fire rekindling under the pressure of his burning gaze. But you wouldn’t give in. Not now. No, not yet. You pulled yourself together almost instantly, holding your breath, and sought to maintain a subtle distance between you and Sunghoon, a part of yourself well-kept in the shadows. “I’m not hiding, I’m just protecting myself with the attractive body of my… boxer boyfriend,” you said, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, as if to mask the deeper truth that lurked behind those words. Sure, it was a game. But it was also a way of pushing back against the pressure he was putting on you. A dangerous game, where you pretended to give in while keeping a secret control over yourself. You wanted to show him that you weren’t easy prey, that his understanding of you wasn’t something that was going to be handed to him on a platter.

You placed your hand on his arm that held your cheek firmly, your gesture both protective and bold. His gaze intensified, searching for an answer in your eyes, but he pulled back slightly, as if to observe you better. His eyes did not detach themselves from yours, diving into your pupils with an almost palpable intensity, searching, scrutinizing, tearing your mask to understand what was hidden behind. He hoped to find a truth there, a sign, a breach in your defense, but you were not yet ready to offer him that. Not so easily.

“W… What? Your boyfriend?” The surprise in his voice quickly mixed with an almost possessive satisfaction, as if your words revealed more than you thought. A strange, almost possessive smile played on his lips, a satisfaction that bordered on control. He wasn’t even trying to hide what he felt anymore. What he wanted. What he was waiting for. It had all become so obvious, and he was just waiting for an opportunity to make it happen.

Your heart raced at his words, and you slipped your hand into his. The touch of his warm skin against yours sent a shiver of anticipation through you, an electric thrill that seemed to run through every fiber of your being. His fingers closed gently around yours, firm but not painful, just enough to keep you from escaping. Their movements were slow, measured, but each one carried a palpable tension, a promise of what might come. You were caught in that invisible circle between desire and resistance, and you knew the line was getting thinner with each passing moment.

“You don’t want to be anymore?” you asked, feigning an innocence that lacked the credibility or purity you were trying to convey. With a nonchalant gesture, you pointed at a random man in the crowd, as if to test the situation. But you knew full well that this gesture was calculated. This was not a man like the others, it was a provocation, an attempt to provoke him, to challenge the hold he already seemed to have over you. “Maybe I should ask this man then.” No sooner had your words been spoken than he let out a growl, a low, rumbling sound that made every fiber of your body vibrate. This sound was a warning, a signal. He was not going to let you go so easily. He was not going to tolerate such a suggestion.

Without warning, Sunghoon reacted with unsettling speed. He pulled you by the hand and pinned you against him, his controlled strength making you a puppet in his arms. You gasped in surprise, your breath hitching as the pressure of his torso made itself felt against you. Your heart pounded in your chest, resonating against his body, and a wave of excitement immediately washed over you, shivering along your nerves. It was a suspended moment, as if time itself had stopped to observe what was to come next. The atmosphere seemed heavy, almost too tense to be real, as if the air was holding its breath, waiting for the next move, the next word.

You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, his power almost palpable, and it gave you a strange feeling: vulnerable, but at the same time protected, as if in this embrace you were not only a victim, but also a willing ally. His arms around you were both reassuring and threatening, so close, and yet capable of breaking you if you weren't careful. But what unsettled you the most was this spark of desire that shone between you. It was palpable, with every breath, with every look. It was an irresistible and captivating attraction, as frightening as it was exciting.

Sunghoon’s lips found yours in a devouring kiss, an unleashed passion that poured into you like an uncontrollable torrent. The contact was raw, imperious, a wild mix of desire and heat. Every movement of his lips against yours carried with it an almost animal urgency, an insatiable thirst. His hand, now on your back, slid slowly down your waist, settling on your body with a possessiveness that simultaneously troubled and attracted you. He pulled you closer to him, pressing you against him, as if he were trying to erase all distance between you. His gestures were almost too violent to be gentle, but there was something deeply intimate about this violence, a silent cry that escaped from his gestures.

The taste of his lips, both sweet and slightly salty, invaded your senses, crushing you under the heat of his touch. He gently nibbled your lower lip, a gesture both tender and devouring, as if he were asking for permission that you were already ready to grant him without restraint. The heat of his mouth spread inside you, his tongue brushing yours timidly at first, before gaining confidence, venturing further, deeper, in a dance that became more and more daring with each moment. His movements were hypnotic, a slow and deep wave that seemed to overwhelm you, each caress of his tongue provoking an immediate and instinctive response from your own body. Each brush of his lips against your skin lit a spark, a shiver of anticipation that spread through you, invading your entire being.

The world around you seemed to dissolve in that suspended moment, and all that mattered was him, you, and this shared warmth. You slid your hand to the back of his neck, fingers digging into his thick, soft hair, feeling the tension of his body against yours beneath your palms. The way Sunghoon touched you was an intoxicating mix of roughness and tenderness, each movement revealing the complexity of what drove him. It was as if, with each second, he was rediscovering you, each brush of his hands, each press of his fingers on your skin, was a new way of possessing you, of exploring you.

The air around you seemed to vibrate with a palpable, almost electric energy. Every sigh, every moan that escaped your lips mingled with his, creating a kind of music that resonated in your heart. The feeling of his hands sliding gently over your waist, brushing every curve, every contour of your body, was both pure pleasure and delicious torture. His lips became more pressing, his kisses more insatiable, as you let yourself be carried away by this storm that made your heart beat faster, harder. The taste of his desire mixed with the thrill of fear, creating an intoxicating cocktail, a feverish dance of pleasure and anguish that set you ablaze in a way you could neither understand nor control.

You felt lost, overwhelmed by Sunghoon, by the intensity of what was happening between you. Every movement, every shudder of his body against yours seemed to lead him to one goal: to make you his, to mark you in some way. A moan escaped your mouth, a silent cry of pure desire, as his breath grew heavier, more panting. Every beat of your heart seemed to resonate in your ears, drowning out any other sound. The heat of his skin against yours, the way he pressed you even closer to him, almost drove you crazy with desire. Sunghoon kissed you with such fervor, with such a need to possess you, that you felt like you were losing yourself in this moment, disappearing completely in the depth of this kiss.

His hands slid along your waist, following the contours of your body with exquisite slowness, caressing each curve, exploring every part of you. With each touch, a shiver ran down your spine, a wave of heat and pleasure that made you quiver from head to toe. His lips moved slightly away from your mouth to rest on your neck, then on your shoulder, and each kiss, each touch, was more intimate, more intense than the last. You shuddered under his caresses, unable to resist the temptation to ask for more, to be even closer, even more fusional.

The air seemed to grow heavy around you, each breath more panting than the last, each gesture more urgent. You let Sunghoon guide you, lose yourself in this dance of bodies and souls, while you felt your limits melt under his hands, under his lips. A tear silently rolled down his cheek, a drop of vulnerability that contrasted with the intensity of this moment. The salty taste of his emotions mingled with your kisses, intensifying each contact, each sigh. It was as if, in this closed world, you merged, forgetting everything that was not part of you two. Nothing else mattered. Only the intensity of this bond that united you mattered.

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, but not without resting his forehead against yours. The contact, almost imperceptible at first, suddenly became heavy with meaning, a shiver running through the perfect alignment of your faces, as if every pore of your skin was awakening at the same moment. The heat of his skin against yours, already burning, seemed to increase the intensity of the moment tenfold. The air, laden with this heat, grew heavy around you. His warm breath caressed your face, each breath mingling with yours in a silent exchange, a subtle fusion between two beings with hearts beating in unison, like a whisper of ecstasy suspended in the air.

You could feel your heartbeat against your chest, racing faster and faster, following a frantic rhythm that seemed no longer yours. It synchronized with his, a beat that became palpable, a vibration that resonated to the depths of your being. His eyes, plunged into yours, were dark and hypnotic, imprisoning your gaze with an incredible intensity. In his burning pupils, you could see the passion unfolding, a fragile but devouring flame, ready to engulf everything in its path. It was as if he were reading you, revealing you in this fragile bubble, as if he knew that this moment was more than a simple stolen moment, that it marked the beginning of a transformation, of an irreversible change.

“What are you doing to me, Y/n?” Sunghoon’s voice was husky and emotional, vibrating through the air, each word betraying a tension that was both sweet and exquisite. He seemed on the verge of losing himself, as if the control, the fragile barrier he had maintained until then, was cracking under the force of what he was feeling. His gaze darkened further, a glimmer of uncontrollable desire mixing with the anguish, as if the intensity of the moment was becoming too strong, too overwhelming. Sunghoon had this way of scrutinizing you, of searching for answers in your gaze, as if he hoped to find permission to give in completely. A sigh escaped his lips, vibrating with desire. Your skin, every cell of your body, seemed to merge with his, like an irresistible magnetic field.

You could feel his hand slowly slide over your waist, brushing your skin with a delicacy that contrasted so intensely with the firmness of his fingers. Each movement was precise, measured, like a delicate dance between desire and possession. He brushed the curve of your body with a sensuality that destabilized you, filling you with a heat that was difficult to control. Shiver after shiver, your body reacted in spite of yourself, drawn to this touch that was both soft and possessive. A tornado of contradictory emotions surged through you: the desire to get closer, to merge in this warmth, but also the fear, visceral, of what it could mean, of what you risked losing.

With a voice trembling with emotion, you almost whispered against his skin, your breath brushing his lips. “I want you to let go… with me.” Those words, weak but powerful, escaped your throat like a throbbing invitation, a promise that would be impossible to take back in return. You leaned down slightly, an impulse, an irrepressible need, and you placed a light but desire-laden kiss against his lips. Your lips brushed his warm and tender skin, a shiver of ecstasy running through Sunghoon. He shivered, as if your gesture had opened a lever of desire buried inside him, a desire that he could no longer ignore. A moan, almost inaudible, made its way from his lips, a sound that inflamed you even more. This simple kiss awakened an inner fury in him, a strength that he struggled to contain. And you let yourself be overwhelmed, the fire that was born in you had no intention of going out.

The warmth of his hand slid slowly, his touch becoming more daring, more determined. His hand wrapped around your waist before slowly, with deliberate slowness, descending towards your buttock. There, he gripped you tightly, an act both tender and dominant, a hold that left no room for escape. An electrifying shiver ran through you, and a moan escaped your mouth, vibrating against his lips. The sound, mixing desire and vulnerability, resonated deeply in Sunghoon, reverberating in every fiber of his being. You felt the tension rising between you, palpable, electrifying, like a storm ready to burst, to destroy the barriers you had imposed on yourselves. The world around you was gradually disappearing, giving way to this suspended moment, to this intensity that neither of you could ignore anymore.

Then, Sunghoon pulled back slightly, his eyes still fixed on yours. A playful smile played on his lips, but this smile did not mask the intensity of what was hidden in his gaze. There was this spark, this disturbing depth that had just lit up in his pupils. His smile was both amused and provocative, like a call to exceed the limits, to cross borders still invisible. The pressure of his hand on your buttock remained, marked, a reminder of this unfulfilled desire, like one more promise. "I don't want to go to jail for exhibitionism," he joked, his laughter resonating in the space, light and captivating. Yet, even in the lightness of this joke, you could feel the depth of the tension that emerged. Behind the words, there was a dark truth, a truth that he did not want to admit, that you could no longer ignore. Between duty and desire there was an invisible chasm, and you could almost feel the rope that was going to give way at any moment, a thread stretched to the limit, ready to snap under the pressure of your emotions.

Sunghoon's fingers intertwined with yours, a touch laden with silent promises. The gentleness with which he squeezed your hand warmed you, each caress sending waves of heat that reverberated all along your arm, creating a feeling of ecstasy that was both sweet and violent at the same time. Yet, beyond this tenderness, there was a shadow, an unspoken desire, a tension that grew with each second, ready to burst in an uncontrollable explosion. A fire burned within him, and you knew he was hiding it from you, but you could feel it in every movement, every look. This desire, so powerful, so unspoken, floated between you like a specter, ready to engulf you.

You continue to advance in the dark corridors of the aquarium, where the subdued light of the pools of water projected by the blue flashes draws moving shadows on your faces. The atmosphere is heavy, almost mystical, as if each ray of water captured a part of your thoughts, diluted them in the icy clarity of the deep waters, and enveloped you in a heavy silence. The sound of your footsteps resonates faintly, like a distant echo in this aquatic labyrinth. With each step, the lights flash and briefly illuminate your skin, projecting fleeting and strange shadows that transform you into ethereal silhouettes, lost in another world. The cold light caresses your faces, accentuating the feeling of isolation, of intimacy in this enclosed place. A feeling of oblivion, as if everything that existed outside of this moment was nothing more than mist.

The warmth of Sunghoon’s hand, wrapping around yours, contrasts sharply with the cool, humid air here. His grip is gentle but firm, a reassuring bond, an anchor in this floating universe. Each movement of your intertwined fingers seems suspended in space, each contact deeper, more intimate than the last. The outside world becomes blurred, a vague shadow on the periphery of your consciousness. It’s as if there were only the two of you, a fragile bubble, a closed space between two beings. A feeling of security invades you, but also of fragility, as if everything could shatter in an instant. You are there, together, in a soothing silence.

Then, a dull thud erupts from down the hallway, an impact sound that seems to tear the air. It sounds like a detonation, or the echo of an inner world breaking. The sound roars through the enclosed space, abruptly interrupting the balance you had found. Sunghoon’s hand tenses slightly, like a rope that tightens before giving way. The tension, subtle at first, spreads through his fingers, slowly invading his entire body. It’s almost imperceptible, a tiny shiver that rises in his grip, but everything inside you tenses at that moment. Something heavier settles in, a dark energy, a threat that he can’t shake off. He’s there, next to you, but he’s no longer the Sunghoon you know.

His eyes, so fixed on you until then, turn away, get lost in infinity. His gaze becomes like a chasm, a bottomless abyss in which you lose yourself without knowing if you can bring him back. A shadow crosses his pupils, a darkness that engulfs everything around him, and you see his face distort, like a painting that twists under the effect of an invisible pain. His features tense, harden, as if an invisible puppet were pulling the strings of his expressions. A mask of terror slowly spreads over him, and the tenderness that characterized him gives way to a raw, almost frightening vulnerability.

Slowly, Sunghoon releases your hand, but it's only for a moment. In a quick, desperate movement, he grabs it again, his fingers closing around yours with a dull violence, as if this contact were the only thing that could keep him balanced. The pain is immediate, sharp, like an electric shock. His fingers squeeze so hard that you feel every bone, every joint in your fingers rebel under this pressure. Yet, you don't dare move. You are frozen, caught in this visceral fear of seeing this bond break. And somewhere, deep down, you know that this brutal gesture is not a simple cry of pain, but a silent request, a call for help. Sunghoon is looking for you, he needs you to not collapse.

His lips part, but no sound comes out. The breath he takes is jerky, each inhalation seems to cut him off, as if the air around him is no longer enough to nourish his body. His lungs fight against him, each breath a struggle. You hear his heart beat faster and harder, hammering in his temples, in his throat, in the tension that fills the space between you. It is an almost unbearable pain.

Sunghoon places a trembling hand on his chest, as if trying to push away this invisible pain that hides there, under his skin, will be enough to make it disappear. He tenses up more, each movement of his fingers on his own flesh a gesture of fighting against a pain that he cannot fight. It is brutal, it is desperate. A solitary tear, a silent pearl of suffering, slowly forms at the corner of his eye, sliding down his cheek in a slow movement, like a river that flows without being able to stop. It traces a bright line on his skin, carrying with it the fragments of a pain that he hides from others, but which now bursts inside him.

It is a suffering that he keeps quiet about, an evil that he hides under his mask of indifference, but which invades him, eats away at him, crushes him. And seeing him like this, broken, vulnerable, your heart tightens in your chest, a heavy and painful weight that nails you to the spot. He is no longer the Sunghoon from the outside, the one who keeps control, the one who protects you. He is a man lost in his demons, a man who needs comfort but who does not know how to accept it.

You approach him, each step like a challenge, a crossing of an internal battlefield where you face your own fear. With a lump in your throat, you feel an icy fear creeping into you. It's the second time you've seen him in this state, in this fragility that seems to crush him from the inside. It's the second time you've become aware of the extent of the storm he hides inside him, a silent storm, a wave of distress that overwhelms him. And you have only one desire, only one: to be his refuge, to be the one who welcomes him in his pain, who helps him breathe through this turmoil.

Slowly, you tighten your grip on his hand, your palm pressing against his, with a firmness full of gentleness, a gesture as tender as it is necessary. You slide gently in front of him, your eyes plunged into his, seeking to capture this chaos, to understand this torment that agitates his dilated pupils. "Sunghoon..." you murmur, your voice breaking in this soft supplication, this infinite sweetness that escapes from your throat, like a caress.

Your free hand slides slowly over his cheek, brushing his skin with infinite softness. You feel the warmth of his skin, the moisture of the tear that shakes you more than you would have thought. This tear is not simply a sign of sadness, it is a cry, a silent call. Your forehead rests against his, in an incredibly intimate gesture, creating an invisible barrier around you, a cocoon in which he can let himself go, break without fear of being rejected. In this contact, you want him to feel the depth of your love, this love that accepts everything, even his darkness. You want him to understand that he is not alone, that he can let himself go to his suffering without having to carry the weight of the world.

Your breaths mingle in a shared breath, soft and fragile. It is a breath full of hope, despite the anguish, despite the fear. And in this breath, you murmur softly, your voice filled with this infinite tenderness: "Breathe with me, Sunghoon... just with me."

He hesitates, his eyes get lost in yours, collide with the invisible, as if he were trying to hold on to something, but couldn't distinguish the present from the past. Little by little, his fingers that tighten around yours loosen, slowly, like a shy flower that opens under the first ray of sunlight. You continue to slide your fingers on his cheek, tracing tender circles, letting your warmth penetrate his skin, penetrate his heart. With each movement, you try to soothe him, to free him, until he lets himself go completely, his head leaning further against yours, a last barrier falling between you.

When he finally lets out a deep, almost broken breath, you know he’s freeing himself of an invisible weight, a burden he’s carried in silence for so long. His shoulders relax imperceptibly, as if the invisible thread that held them taut has just snapped, and a palpable tension leaves his body. His lips part, trembling, and with an almost furtive gesture, he whispers, his voice cracking with pain: “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to show you this, not here, not now.” Each word seems to tear away a fragment of his soul, a piece of this impenetrable façade he’s built around himself. You can almost feel the gravity of his shame, like a crushing weight he’s struggling to cast off.

At these words, a wave of raw and intense tenderness invades you, submerging your heart. Sunghoon no longer hides, he shows you all his fragility, all the pain he hides under his apparent strength. For the first time, you glimpse this part of him that he usually keeps buried, this vulnerability that he tries to hide behind his mask of assurance. It is a silent call, a truth that he offers you without abandoning himself to it completely. Without answering, you gently slide your hand into his hair, your fingers brushing his locks with infinite tenderness. With each caress, you erase a little more of the world around you, weaving a bubble of intimacy where there is nothing else but this moment. Your breaths synchronize in a peaceful rhythm, as if, suddenly, the whole world stopped turning. The touch of your fingers in his hair is both soothing and electrifying, soft and powerful, like a silent promise, an offering of comfort in a sea of torment.

You don't say anything, you just let your gestures do the talking. You don't want to force anything, just be there, present for him, for who he is in this new fragility. "You have nothing to hide, Sunghoon," you say, your voice low, like a secret whisper between the two of you. "I'm here, for all of that. For every part of you, even the ones you think you have to hide." You say these words like an oath, a promise engraved in every fiber of your being. He shivers under the warmth of this truth, as if your gaze directly touched what he hid deep inside him. His fingers intertwine more firmly with yours, seeking the warmth of your hand, and his thumb slowly brushes your skin, a fragile caress, almost unconscious, but so powerful in its simplicity. It's as if he's trying to anchor your presence in his flesh, as if to make sure that you're really there, that you won't leave.

Time seems to stand still, each second expanding in this silent embrace. It’s as if the outside world, the gazes of others, no longer exist. There is only Sunghoon, and you, and the vulnerability you share. You are bound in a silent truth, an exchange of emotions that words cannot capture. You share buried pains, flaws, a vulnerability that you had never dared to reveal, to either of you. It is a wordless confession, a silent dialogue where your hearts dance together in a deep intimacy.

Every beat of his heart resonates with yours, and you feel torn between the anguish of seeing him sink into his darkness and the burning desire to keep him close to you, to be this light that illuminates him in the darkness. His gaze, now clouded with tears, captures your light like a castaway who finally sees a lighthouse in the darkness. He stares at you intensely, as if you were his last hope, his last anchor in this chaotic world. In this silence heavy with meaning, a fragility is woven between you, but also a silent promise: that of staying there, one for the other, of never failing, of always standing by the other's side.

Sunghoon, in the throes of inner turmoil, looks at you with an intensity that pierces you. His eyes, full of confusion and pain, seek a little peace, a little comfort in your gaze. His lips approach yours with an almost hypnotic slowness, and you feel the irresistible urge to kiss him, to seal this moment, to erase the space that separates you. When your lips finally brush, it is like a burst of truth, a mixture of sweetness, tenderness and despair. You can almost taste the salt of his tears on your lips, an imprint of his suffering, his fragility. It is a kiss loaded with everything he has not been able to say, a kiss that reveals a shared vulnerability, a common suffering.

“Let me be your strength,” you whisper, barely audible, your lips brushing his, your breath trembling with emotion.

Sunghoon leans slightly towards you, and in an instant, the space between you seems to dissolve, as if the whole world around you is fading away. Your lips meet again, at first a soft, almost timid contact, but enough to unite your breaths, your fears and your hopes, thus creating a silent and deep bond between the two of you. The kiss is hesitant at first, as if your souls were still looking for their place, timidly brushing against each other, like two strangers discovering each other. Then, little by little, the intensity increases. The gestures become more sure, more pressing, each movement of the lips a promise, a form of shared consolation. This kiss carries everything that remains unsaid, all this accumulated pain, this silent exchange where your souls speak to each other without a word. His breath mixes with yours, warm and light at the same time. Every sigh that escapes his lips is a silent confession, an inner cry that he offers to you without restraint.

His hands slide gently over your body, as if every inch of your skin were a discovery, a meticulous exploration of you. He traces invisible lines, each touch electrifying your skin, a shiver running down your spine with each gesture. He takes his time, savoring each moment, as if time were suspended around you. In his kisses, you feel his pain, his suffering mixed with a burning desire, both obscure and intoxicating. It is a whirlwind of contradictions, a strange fusion between suffering and desire. The pressure of his tongue on yours is hesitant at first, timid, then it becomes more and more assured, more demanding, like a silent request, an invitation to open your heart.

You answer him, letting yourself be carried away by the rhythm of the dance he initiates. Your tongue slides against his, in a slow and sensual movement. It is a hesitant dance, as if each gesture, each brush, had the power to erase everything, to repair everything. The warmth of his lips touches you, this burning tenderness that hides under the insistence of his kisses. You are linked in a heavy silence, this silence loaded with everything that you have never dared to say, but that you share in this communion of bodies. Each movement becomes a silent cry, a mute imploration to forget the outside world, to abandon yourselves to this moment, you lose yourselves in each other, in the warmth of your bodies that unite against the coldness of the world.

Sunghoon finally pulls away from you slowly, his lips pulling away with an unsettling slowness, creating a void that squeezes your heart. The heat of his body seems to still hang in the air around you, and the space between you suddenly becomes heavy with a palpable tension, a persistent heat but of a completely different nature. His eyes plunge into yours, dark and penetrating, as if he were trying to read every thought, every emotion that crosses your mind. He seems to see fragments of you that he had never noticed before, and in his gaze, you feel the intensity of this discovery.

Then Sunghoon begins a sensual journey on your face, his lips brushing your skin with an almost unreal delicacy, making you shiver almost uncontrollably. He gently caresses your eyelids, kisses them tenderly, as if he wanted to seal a secret between you, a secret that nothing will ever be able to break. His kisses are light at first, almost shy, but beneath this softness hides a growing intensity, a tension that never stops rising, an insatiable desire more and more present, invasive. He then moves on to your nose, tracing a hot, humid path, a silent promise of something more, before lingering on your cheeks, his kisses become more insistent, deeper, as if he wanted to mark every inch of your skin, leave an indelible imprint of his desire, of his presence.

But it’s to your lips that he returns, again and again, as if everything resides there. When he settles on you again, a shiver of desire runs through you. The kiss is torrid, burning, filled with an electric tension that seems to make everything more real. His lips move with a new urgency, as if they’re searching for something, as if they’re begging for more. His tongue advances slowly, brushing yours with a possessive softness, a silent demand, and you feel a shiver of pleasure run through you, like an electric shock going through every fiber of your being. He pulls back slightly, just enough for you to feel his warm breath caress your skin, and you feel the world stop around you, time stretch out, the air become heavy with passion and tension.

“Don’t go away from me, Y/n,” he whispers, his voice low and husky, slipping through the air like a hot caress, gentle and threatening at the same time. His words, heavy with meaning and charged with a silent urgency, are not a simple request, but an imperious demand, an order hidden under the air of tender supplication. It is as if each syllable marks your mind with an invisible imprint, anchoring you to him in an irremediable way. He is not joking. You know it, deep down, in this palpable tension that settles between you. His voice leaves no room for doubt: he wants you close to him, here, right now, and nothing will be able to detach you from him without a storm breaking out.

A shiver runs down your spine. The proximity of his body, the warmth of his skin that seems to burn you without touching him, brings up a wave of contradictory emotions. The desire bubbling inside you collides with the fear of the unknown, the danger hidden in this attraction. He is there, right against you, and every fiber of your being screams at you to flee, but another part of you, deeper, more secret, pushes you to abandon yourself to this irresistible wave that rises within you, to this force that subjugates you.

In an almost instinctive gesture, your hand moves towards his waist, brushing the softness of his top, seeking contact, a connection. But, at the last second, a wave of lucidity invades you, reminding you of his injury. A burst of doubt stops you, and you hesitate, a suspended moment where the reality of the gesture becomes clearer. His fragility, his pain… An icy reality that makes you shiver. However, another sensation quickly rises, even stronger: the desire to touch him, to feel the warmth of his body against you, to reduce this distance that separates you. The tension that grips you is sweet and devastating at the same time. There is no more room for hesitation. The moment is too heavy, too intense. You press gently, just enough to brush his skin, and he reacts without the slightest hesitation.

His fingers close around yours with such force, such certainty, that you almost feel like you’ve trapped yourself in his arms. The softness of his grip hides a muted power, a quiet dominance that leaves no room for rebellion. It’s a reminder of his power, of how Sunghoon can encompass you in a single gesture. But it’s also a reminder of his vulnerability, a strange and destabilizing contrast. His gaze, deep into yours, is insistent, almost desperate, as if he’s trying to convince you to stay here, in this suspended moment, even if everything around you seems to be falling apart. Sunghoon wants you there, by his side, and the gravity of that desire squeezes your heart. He doesn’t tell you with words, but in the depth of his gaze, in every tense muscle of his body, you know that nothing else matters to you two, right here, right now.

Suddenly, without warning, he takes you by the hand and leads you to a small waffle shop in the aquarium. The ground beneath your feet feels harder, heavier, each step weighing you down like a stone. The atmosphere around you becomes thicker, denser, as if the air itself were charged with electricity. An almost palpable energy vibrates between you, weaving itself around you like an invisible thread, a bond you can neither understand nor break. It's like walking on a tightrope stretched between two worlds, that of passion and threat, and you don't know which one attracts you more. It's a fragile dance, a precarious balance between temptation and danger, and each step brings you closer to the abyss.

The dim lights through the store windows cast blurry, dancing shadows across your faces. These shadows seem to bloom in the space between you, feeding the intensity of the moment, making it even more overwhelming. Every movement becomes heavier, every look more charged with meaning. The connection between you grows stronger, almost unbearable, every gesture, every breath becoming an affirmation of this irresistible attraction, this insatiable need that binds you.

As you walk through the door of the store, the sweet air of waffles hits you, a sweet smell that surprises you in this atmosphere heavy with tension. It's almost cruel, this contrast, a brutal reminder that not everything is as intense as what you share. And yet, even this sweetness seems tinged by the heat of his body so close to yours. He has not stopped looking at you. His gaze does not look away for a second, and in his pupils shine flashes of wild, merciless desire. His impassive face barely hides the burn he feels, and every muscle in his body seems tense, ready to explode.

The salesman calls you, but his voice seems distant, almost inaudible in this bubble of intensity that you two form. Everything seems unreal, as if time itself had stopped to observe you. You are absorbed, swallowed up by Sunghoon's gaze, in which unconfessed desires, promises and hidden threats mix. This gaze is an abyss, a trap into which you could easily fall. And a part of you is terrified at the idea of discovering what he really expects from you. A dull anguish mixes with the growing desire, creating an unbearable tension that makes your heart beat harder, faster.

Sunghoon finally orders a waffle for the two of you, without taking his eyes off yours. And then you feel a shiver of adrenaline run through you. The intimacy of this moment is overwhelming. It's as if everything around you is becoming a blur, as if the world no longer exists. Every second that passes is a mixture of pleasure and fear, a whirlwind of contradictory sensations that leaves you speechless, defenseless. When the waffle arrives, he takes it in his hand, but he keeps looking at you, as if he wants you to be aware of every gesture, every movement. You can see the tension in his muscles, his self-control, and yet there is this glint of desperation in his eyes, as if he is waiting for something from you, something you have not yet understood.

“Do you want to taste?” His low voice, almost a whisper, slides over your skin like an intimate caress, loaded with something much more than mere words. Each syllable seems suspended in the air, heavy with meaning, like a silent and dangerous promise. He slowly brings the waffle to you, but his eyes do not leave yours, piercing, analyzing each movement, each reaction. It is a power play, a silent challenge, where each gesture seems calculated, each breath, a declaration. It is no longer a simple question of dessert; there is a palpable tension between you, a magnetic attraction that binds you to him, preventing you from escaping. Everything seems suspended in this moment, and you realize that it is not only a question of gluttony, but something deeper, darker, an irresistible desire.

When you finally take a bite, the sweetness of the waffle explodes in your mouth, but you can't ignore Sunghoon's imposing presence, so close to you. It's like he's everywhere at once, in the air, in the heat emanating from him, in the intensity of his gaze, a predator's gaze scrutinizing his prey. He watches you, he analyzes you, waiting to see how you'll react, what each movement of your body will mean to him. His eyes, deep and insatiable, seem to want to decipher each of your thoughts, each breath. He must know that you belong to him, that you are his in this suspended moment. And, against all logic, you feel fragile, vulnerable under this gaze that consumes you, as if you were nothing more than a puzzle that he is determined to solve.

When you finally release the waffle, the sweet sweetness mixes with a much more complex taste. The creamy texture of the whipped cream melts into Sunghoon's scent, which surrounds you with every breath. He is so close, each movement of your tongue to wipe your lips makes you aware of his presence, of his insistent and scrutinizing gaze, of the pressure of his body close to yours. You are aware of every gesture, every movement becomes a silent invitation, a call. You know that he is watching you, that every micro-movement of your body is scrutinized, that you no longer have the right to look away. He seeks to read you, to decode your slightest reaction.

You finally bring your hand to your lips to wipe the corner of your mouth, a small gesture that is almost automatic, but you suddenly feel lost. The softness of your fingers on your skin is abruptly interrupted. A shiver runs through you when you feel a firm but gentle grip on your wrist. Sunghoon holds you back, pulling you towards him with a quiet but strong authority. He takes you in his arms, preventing you from running away. His burning gaze pierces you, and the silent pressure he exerts on you clearly tells you to stay there, not to resist. He owns you in this moment, even without a word.

“Let me do it,” he whispers, his voice soft as velvet, but filled with danger. He leans in then, his face moving closer to yours, close enough that you can feel his breath, the heat of his body brushing against you. His eyes, dark as night, stare at you with such intensity that you feel destabilized, as if he could read you, devour you, know everything about you. There is no more room for words. There is only this look, this tension floating around you, and the feeling that the outside world no longer exists. Everything has been reduced to this moment, to this suspended moment where there is only the two of you.

Without a word, he moves closer, his mouth moving to the corner of your lips. His tongue, warm and wet, gently brushes the delicate skin of your lips, removing the rest of the whipped cream that you haven't wiped away. The contact is electric, a brutal shock that vibrates every fiber of your being. It is both intimate and invasive, a gentle but irreversible intrusion. The shiver that runs through you is more intense than anything you have felt before, a mixture of desire, shame and pure pleasure. A moan escapes your throat, involuntary, a silent cry betraying your response to this burning contact. Everything around you disappears, the noises of the room, the whispers, fade into the background, leaving only this sensual dance, this indefinable bond that unites you in this suspended moment.

Sunghoon pulls out slowly, savoring every second, and every second seems to last an eternity. He is in control, every movement calculated, precise. You feel even more lost, wrapped in this whirlwind of contradictory sensations. With a sure gesture, Sunghoon brings your finger to his lips. A simple gesture, but in his hands, it takes on a whole new dimension. The innocence of the act becomes disturbing as he slowly sucks your finger, his warm and soft mouth enveloping your skin in a disconcerting, almost invasive way. Each movement, each aspiration seems to steal a little of your control, pushing you to abandon yourself to this intensity, to this silent domination. He slowly removes the slightest trace of whipped cream, his eyes deep in yours, satisfied, full of a quiet arrogance. And you, you feel your heart accelerate, beating faster, harder. The sparkle in his eyes tells you that this was only the beginning, that what he wants from you is much more than this simple gesture.

“Sunghoon… we’re in public,” you whisper, your voice trembling, torn between disapproval and excitement. Each word struggles to escape your lips, infused with obvious hesitation, but the intensity of his burning gaze unsettles you, making you doubt your own will to stop. The heat in your skin spikes, every movement of your body seeming to risk betraying a truth you’re not ready to face. Around you, the hustle and bustle of the room fades to a distant whisper as you become aware of the furtive glances of the customers. A few of them watch you, curious, embarrassed, or incredulous. You suddenly feel vulnerable, as if every breath, every beat of your heart echoes in the silence that has settled around you. A wave of excitement invades your mind, an intoxicating whirlwind that makes you oscillate between shame and a devouring desire. You are there, in this enclosed space, caught in a bubble of palpable tension, but aware of the foreign glances gliding over you.

Relentless, Sunghoon removes your finger from his mouth with an almost insolent ease, as if he were playing with you at every moment. He is neither in a hurry nor embarrassed, and in this gesture, he places a light kiss on the palm of your hand, a kiss so subtle, so intimate, that it freezes you on the spot. This simple contact, yet fleeting, triggers a discharge of contradictory emotions. The heat of his skin against yours causes a shiver that runs through you, shaking all your senses. The fear of excess, the excitement of risk, and a raw, insatiable desire, mix in your belly, turning you over. His smile is an enigma, a combination of apparent innocence and obscene promises, a veil that hides the increasingly heavy tension between you. His gaze, always fixed on you, gives off an implacable energy, as if he sees beyond your appearance, as if he knows exactly what you feel, without you needing to utter a single word.

“As long as we don’t fuck in front of them, princess, I don’t care,” he suddenly blurts out, his voice as smooth as satin but hiding an underlying iron blade. His words seep into the air, light but heavy with meaning, and the atmosphere is instantly charged with palpable electricity. Each syllable he utters seems to resonate in your bones, and you swallow, feeling a mixture of shame, arousal, and fascination grow within you. He looks at you with such intensity that you have no choice but to defy him with your gaze, all the while knowing that you are already lost. There is no longer any room for ambiguity in what you feel. He knows exactly what he is doing, and he is fully aware of the effect it has on you. But he enjoys it, because this game, this challenge between you, is a terrain of power that he controls to perfection.

With calculated slowness, Sunghoon brings the waffle to his lips, biting exactly where you left the imprint of your teeth. This gesture, which might seem innocuous in another context, suddenly takes on an unsuspected meaning. He does it with an almost perverse reverence, as if he were trying to appropriate a little of you through this simple gesture. His gaze does not leave you, penetrating and deep, a gaze that seems to read each of your reactions, each thought that crosses your mind. It is a silent promise, a promise that you are not sure whether you want to keep or break. Your heart races, your breath becomes shorter, the air around you becomes heavier. A dull tension settles, an anticipation that hangs in the air like a soft threat, ready to explode. He has captured something in you, a small spark of submission that you had not seen coming, but which grows each time he stares at you in this way.

His gaze locks with yours, unwavering, and a serious, almost predatory smile plays on his lips as he whispers softly, “It’s delicious.” His words float between you, a caress that makes you shiver, exposing you in a way no other man has ever managed. He holds the waffle out to you, but it’s no longer a simple offer. It’s a silent challenge, an unspoken invitation to respond to his gesture, to become a part of this game he plays with such skill. He forces you to accept this offering, and though your body hesitates, your mind betrays you and you bite exactly where he left his mark. Your eyes meet again, colliding in a silent dance of possession and vulnerability. Each gesture becomes a hold, an act of power and submission, and you feel trapped in this invisible web he weaves around you.

Your heart beats hard in your chest, heavy, panting, and an oppressive heat invades your body. You are aware of every movement, every breath, and each gesture seems to trigger a chain reaction, a wave of emotions that overwhelms you. A mischievous wink escapes your eyes, and, against all expectations, you see a slight blush tint his cheeks. This reaction, so rare in him, almost makes you smile. You bite your lip, trying to stifle a laugh, amused by this vulnerability that he hides so clumsily, this side of him that you begin to see, a little more with each moment.

“You’re so adorable, Sunghoon,” you tell him in a breath, your words sliding slowly, like an almost invisible caress that brushes the air. They slip between you, light, but heavy with meaning, loaded with that subtle irony that always floats in the air when emotions are too strong to be simply said. These words, yet tender, seem to split the space between you in a way that you had not anticipated. The moment you say them, you see a slight shiver run through his features, an imperceptible tension that crosses his body, like a shock wave that he tries to hide, but that you perceive nevertheless, clearly.

Sunghoon's face, usually as implacable as steel, then betrays a moment of vulnerability. A deeper blush invades his cheeks, tinting his skin with an unexpected warmth. His eyes avert almost by reflex, and a hand rises, running through his hair in a sudden, almost defensive gesture, as if he wanted to erase the impact of your words. But this gesture, far from masking what he feels, only reinforces the impression you have of seeing him shirk, even slightly, this truth that you are holding out to him. You had not anticipated that a simple compliment could destabilize him to this point, and yet, in this split second, you perceive a crack in his armor.

Despite this moment of fragility, something deeper, more chilling, awakens in him. A flash of darkness in his gaze, an unfathomable depth that you have never perceived before, an ocean of pain and desire mixed, where you feel that behind this facade of control, a storm is raging. Sunghoon stares at you again, his eyes burning with an almost bestial intensity, as if he is seeing you for the first time, as if he is devouring you with his gaze, each second a fight not to sink. As if you are all that keeps him here, in this reality, in this moment suspended between you.

Sunghoon leans forward slightly, almost imperceptibly, a subtle movement, but charged with the promise of a closeness that makes your heart beat faster. His hand, hesitant at first, slides towards your face, his finger brushing the outline of your lips, as if he were trying to understand this smile that has brushed your face. The contact is so soft, almost fragile, but at the same time, heartbreakingly tender, as if this gesture could be a last memory that he would take with him. This simple touch seems to suspend time, and you feel your heart racing, your body reacting to this softness, but also to the urgency that there is in this gesture, a desire to capture a moment before it disappears, to immobilize it forever.

Unable to resist the momentum that runs through you, the whirlwind of sensations that overwhelm you, you place a light kiss on the tip of his finger. This gesture, almost innocuous, resonates in the air like a shard of broken glass. Sunghoon slowly closes his eyes, as if he needed to be away from this contact for a moment, to absorb the heat of your kiss, to stifle the explosion of emotions that tears him apart. When he reopens his eyes, his gaze seems darker, veiled, as if he were trying to hide a torment that he cannot control. A fragile smile forms on his lips, but it is almost as fleeting as the pain he seeks to hide. It is a broken smile, like a shard of glass that cannot be repaired.

“I love your smile,” he says, and his voice trembles slightly, betraying an imperceptible shiver, a tremor that he tries to hide under the softness of his words. His fingers, now more assured, slide slowly from your lips to your cheek, brushing your skin like a caress. But in his gestures there is also hidden a form of silent possession, as if he wanted to soak up you, to keep you close to him in a last gesture of tenderness. But behind this touch, you also feel the pain, palpable, that he cannot hide. He looks at you as if each second spent with you costs him a little more of himself, as if each movement you make, each breath you let out, is a tearing for him.

His hand moves down further, sliding along the back of your neck with calculated slowness. You feel the gentle but firm pressure of his fingers on your skin, almost an anchor that keeps you close to him. This gesture is at once a gesture of control, a way of binding you to him, and yet, it is also tender, like a silent request to stay, not to leave, even if it must be done in pain. Your breath catches for a moment, strangled by the feeling of being both vulnerable and desired, as if everything you were was concentrated in this single moment, in this hand that keeps you close to him.

“I want you to be like this forever… happy,” he whispers, and the words, infinitely sweet but broken, insinuate themselves into you like an icy breath. His voice, low, brushes you gently, mixing tenderness and unspeakable pain. There is something fragile in his words, as if they are too weak to contain the pain they carry. He speaks as if he is confiding a part of himself to you, but you know that what he hides in his gaze is heavier than what he dares to say. Behind this tenderness, you perceive a fear that he tries to hide—a visceral fear that shines in his eyes, threatening and fragile.

You see that this fear is eating him up, that he hides it under a mask of love and devotion, but it is there, lurking in every corner of his gaze. It is a deep anguish that he cannot fight, that he does not dare to face. He desires with all his heart to see you happy, but with a desperate urgency, as if he knew, deep down, that this happiness does not belong to him. Sunghoon is not the one who will be able to offer you lasting tranquility, and it is eating away at him. Even if he tries to offer you what he believes to be the most beautiful gift of all—your joy—he knows that it is only an illusion. Because, deep down, he is not the one who will fill your heart.

The violence of this thought hits him like a stab. He then contemplates you, his eyes drowned in a suffering that he can no longer hide. This gaze that you meet is an abyss, an endless chasm where he seems to lose himself little by little, as if each moment spent with you was only an ephemeral illusion. Sunghoon looks at you with the certainty that what you share is only a passage, a parenthesis. He knows that he will end up losing you, that one day you will move away, and he already sees you as a shooting star that he believes he will never be able to hold on to. Sunghoon admires you, he loves you with a pure but desperate love, to the point of suffering. This suffering is part of him, a wound that he has learned to hide, but which, at this precise moment, is revealed. It is this irrational fear of seeing you disappear that slowly breaks him, piece by piece.

What he doesn't tell you, what he can't say, is that every moment spent with you is an inner struggle for him. A struggle against his own demons, against the certainty that he will never be able to fill your heart completely. He wants to be the one who makes you happy, with all his being, but Sunghoon knows that he is not up to it. This doubt eats away at him more and more every day. His thoughts sometimes escape towards an uncertain future, where you will no longer be there, where you will inexorably move away, and where he will be forced to see you go. In this vision, he already feels the pain of your disappearance, the immense void that it will leave in his life.

He knows this thought of loss well, he has learned to live with it, to accept it, but it is destroying him little by little. Every moment spent with you becomes a struggle against the evidence of what seems inevitable: your disappearance. He carries this fear within him like a curse, an open wound that never closes, and that deepens with each moment. He is afraid of loving you too much, afraid that this love — so pure, so unaltered — will destroy him too, that it will make him sink into an abyss from which he will never be able to escape.

“I’m going to smile so much for you that it’s going to annoy you,” you say, your voice soft, almost whispered, as you gently squeeze his hand. You feel a slight vibration under your touch, and you know that this sentence, so light in appearance, is only a mask, an attempt to dissipate the tension. But the storm raging inside Sunghoon cannot be appeased by mere words. Even your gaze, full of tenderness and kindness, does not mask this silent struggle that hides in his eyes. And in this suspended moment, the storm becomes more violent, each heartbeat he feels seeming to suck you a little more towards the abyss where he finds himself.

Your smile, almost naively innocent, briefly lights up his face, but it especially accentuates the depth of the pain he hides. Behind this smile, too fragile, hides an unfathomable emptiness, a sadness anchored in his being, a loneliness that he has carried within him for years, perhaps forever. Since his childhood, Sunghoon has learned to hide this suffering, to erect walls around himself, a fortress that he never dared to let fall, for fear of being swallowed up by the outside world. But you, your presence, your gaze, are slowly, inexorably breaking down this barrier. It is not a brutal burst, but a slow and deep crack. A silent internal struggle, because he knows, deep down, that these emotions that he has kept inside him for so long will eventually overflow.

Sunghoon knows, deep down, that this happiness, this warmth he feels by your side, is only a mirage. A fragile flame in an icy night, ready to go out at the slightest breeze. He looks at you with an almost painful intensity, a despair that he cannot hide. He watches you like a man watches a dream whose contours he knows he will never be able to grasp, a dream that dissipates as soon as he touches it. Every smile you offer him, every gentle gesture from you, pierces his heart like an invisible blade. He would like to lose himself in this happiness, to take refuge in this sweetness that you give him, but he knows that, sooner or later, you will move away. That distance, oblivion, will make you leave. The fear of abandonment, visceral and constant, is anchored in every fiber of his being. And yet, with every moment spent with you, he lets himself be carried away by a devouring love, a devouring passion that consumes him, slowly eats away at him, but which, he knows, will never fill the void he carries within him.

In an almost desperate burst, Sunghoon holds you close. He grabs you, not gently, but with an almost violent urgency, as if you were the last lifeline in a raging ocean. As if he could hold you back, prevent you from moving away, from escaping, simply by holding you closer to him. His hands dig into your skin with a pressure that hurts you, but which, strangely, also seems to seek to mark every part of you, to anchor you in his memory. He seeks to make you inseparable from him, to possess you not only with his body, but with his soul. His eyes capture you, scrutinize you with an almost sickly intensity, seeking to imprison your silhouette in a gaze where desire and suffering mingle. Each movement, each breath, seems calculated to hold you back, to anchor you in him, as if he knew that losing you would be his own end.

But at the same time, every moment he spends by your side is a sweet agony. A sublimated, intense pain, which mixes with the beauty of the moment. Every kiss, every smile, every shared breath is a treasure that he reluctantly accepts, all the while knowing that it leaves a gaping wound in his heart. This pain, Sunghoon accepts it, he even cherishes it, because for him, loving you is accepting to slowly destroy himself. It is embracing the burn of passion while being perfectly aware that he will end up burning himself, that this fire will devour him, that he will not come out of it unscathed.

Sunghoon holds you even tighter, as if the sheer force of his will could keep you there, close to him, by his side. He would like time to stop, for this suspended moment to last forever, but he knows that it is only a mirage. Because deep down, he feels this inevitable truth: everything he experiences with you is temporary. It is a daydream that will fade away at the slightest movement, at the slightest change. And yet, even while consumed by the fear of losing you, Sunghoon does not hesitate. He lets himself go in this whirlwind of feelings, ready to sacrifice everything, even if it destroys him. Because to him, to love is to agree to give everything, to burn everything, to lose everything, in the insane hope that you will stay, even if only a little longer.

In the boxing gym, the air was oppressive, saturated with the smell of sweat and metal. The dull sound of punches hitting the punching bag mingled with the faint flashing of neon lights above Sunghoon, like echoes of an ever-growing inner turmoil. The cold light of the neon lights cast strange shadows on his face, emphasizing every line of fatigue and pain that marked his features. His eyes, usually intense, were now a little dull, as if all his energy was directed into his fists that he threw with an almost frantic violence. With each impact, his gloves were lost in the bag with a sharp thud, one more blow to silence what was rumbling inside him, an uncontrollable rage that was bubbling beneath the surface.

Across from him, Jay remained stoic, his posture impeccable, like a silhouette frozen in time. He didn't move an inch, his arms stretched around the punching bag he held tightly, resisting the powerful blows that struck him at every moment. He absorbed each shock with calculated patience, as if nothing that happened around him could touch him. Yet, in the silence that reigned between each blow, it was impossible not to feel the intensity of the exchange. Jay, although motionless, was totally focused, his piercing gaze observing every detail of Sunghoon's movements. He knew that each blow his friend threw was not simply an attempt to defeat a punching bag, but a fight against inner demons far more powerful than anything he could face in this ring.

Sunghoon’s gloves danced violently, each strike followed by a new explosion of force. He struck, again and again, as if each blow freed him a little more, or at least, that’s what he hoped. His fists were cannonballs, relentlessly raging against the worn surface of the bag, which almost seemed to respond with equal hardness. The pain in his arms, the muscles tensed, each impact resonating down to his bones, was nothing compared to the pain he felt inside. Rage filled him. Sunghoon didn’t strike to win, he struck to exist, to make something tangible exist in this whirlwind of frustration and despair. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he paid it no mind. Sunghoon was lost in this struggle, far from reality, far from the invisible spectators who might judge.

His movements had become mechanical, like an automatic repetition of gestures that he no longer controlled. The violence of each blow seemed to come from a deep place, a place he did not dare to look at. His breathing, irregular, derailed with each exhalation. A hoarse breath, almost whistling, escaped his lips with each new attack. It was not the physical pain that he was trying to evacuate, but something much greater, something that he could not formulate, but which, with each inspiration, seemed to gnaw at his insides.

And then Jay broke the silence, his voice cold as a sharp blade cutting through the air. “So, are you ready to face Heeseung in a month?” His tone was dry, direct, straightforward, like an invitation to the truth, or perhaps a challenge. The question hung in the air, heavy with innuendo, expectations, and hopes they dared not name. Sunghoon froze for a moment. A particularly violent blow crashed against the bag, but he didn’t have the strength to strike again. A shudder, an invisible vibration, was felt in his body. He knew that the question was much more than a simple interrogation of his physical abilities; it opened a breach into something much more intimate.

Sunghoon took a deep breath, trying to put his mind back in place, but the thought of Heeseung, of this betrayal that was devouring him, immediately invaded his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, but the image of his former friend forced itself into his mind, again and again. The betrayal, the lies, the anger, everything intertwined. Sunghoon had been there for Heeseung, always, and yet… Everything had shattered. Heeseung's face, that of a friend he believed to be sincere, haunted his thoughts. It was a shadow that stuck to his skin, that distorted his own reflection. He gritted his teeth and struck again, harder, faster. He struck with the force of pain, with the violence of bitterness.

“Heeseung is nothing but another man,” he spat through his teeth, his voice shaking with fury. His gaze fixed on the bag, but in his mind, it was Heeseung’s face he saw, the face of the lost friend, the man who had betrayed him. Sunghoon paused, his breath caught, his heart pounding. He didn’t know if it was the rage that kept him alive or the pain that wouldn’t let go. He stared at the bag for a moment, as if he saw the features of his former friend there, each blow he threw an attempt to bring justice to this broken friendship. Sunghoon needed to strike, again and again, until this pain, this betrayal, finally stopped consuming him.

Jay, watching every move with a keenness that did not escape him, did not utter a word. He knew. He knew that this was not just a fight against a man. This was not just a rivalry. This was an inner war, a battle between what had been lost and what still remained to be preserved. Sunghoon's hatred was not only directed at Heeseung; it was also directed at himself. It was not the strength of a rival that he was facing, but the shadow of a friend he had loved. And Jay understood, perhaps better than anyone, that this scar was much deeper than any blow he had struck.

In the echo of the last blows, a palpable tension, like a thread suspended between the past and the future, hung in the air. Jay knew he could only watch, observe without intervening. What was playing out in this room was not a simple physical training. It was a silent catharsis, a silent battle that Sunghoon had to fight alone.

“Is that really what you want to believe?” Jay’s voice cut through the silence with the softness of a sharp blade, calm but relentless. He slowly loosened his grip on the punching bag, forcing Sunghoon to stop. The air in the room, already saturated with heat and sweat, seemed to freeze around them, heavy with that palpable tension. Sunghoon froze, his arm hanging in the air, his palm still open as if he were ready to strike again, but his muscles tensed under the unexpected impact of those words. Jay hadn’t shouted, he hadn’t even raised his voice. Yet he had managed to break Sunghoon’s rhythm, to disturb the balance that the latter had so desperately tried to maintain.

Jay's gaze was a finely honed instrument, a gaze that penetrated appearances and saw beyond the surface. It was a gaze that discerned hidden truths, those that Sunghoon himself did not dare to face, those that hid in the dark corners of his soul, where he hoped no one would come to disturb them. Jay knew that Sunghoon was fighting against something much bigger than Heeseung, against an inner monster, a visceral pain that he did not have the courage to acknowledge.

“You can convince yourself all you want, but it’s not Heeseung you’re fighting. It’s yourself, that part of you that refuses to accept what he did to you.” Jay’s words sank into Sunghoon’s heart like a blade cutting through his ribs. They were precise, sharp, and far more painful than any punch he could have received. They struck directly where he had buried his pain: in that gaping wound that bled endlessly, the one that had opened in his heart the day Heeseung had betrayed him.

Sunghoon's breathing quickened. He froze for a moment, his eyes fixed on the punching bag, but he couldn't see anything anymore. His thoughts were lost in the tumult of memories, in that precise moment when everything had changed. Heeseung's face floated before him, that of the friend he had known, the one he had trusted, and now... now, he was an enemy. A traitor. A ghost. Jay's gaze forced him to relive that scene over and over again, to revisit the moment when betrayal had slipped like poison into his life. He had lost everything that day, and the pain was still raw, stinging.

Sunghoon's fists slowly unclenched, almost against his will. He felt the sweaty gloves slip slightly from his trembling hands, but he didn't put them back on. He couldn't hold on tight anymore, couldn't push back the flood of pain that was intensifying with each passing moment. Sweat was now streaming down his face, but it wasn't just fatigue anymore. It was emotional exhaustion, a weight he had been carrying for too long that was starting to crush him. It was this pain he was trying to escape, but it caught up with him with every blow he landed, every mechanical movement he made to let out his anger and frustration.

“It doesn’t matter anymore…” Sunghoon’s voice trailed off almost to a whisper, a choked gasp of pain. The words struggled to come out, stuck in his throat, unable to find their way out. He tried to smile, a bitter smile, devoid of joy, but it only served to deepen the sadness in his eyes. “He’s just another opponent to beat.” No matter how hard he tried to hide the truth, to impose a mask of bravado, he knew he didn’t believe it himself. The truth was there, buried deep in his chest, a truth he could no longer ignore.

Jay shook his head slowly, wordlessly, his gaze unwavering. He knew Sunghoon wasn’t ready to accept this truth, that what he was saying was just a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of control. But Jay was used to reading people, sensing the cracks in their façade, and he knew Sunghoon was about to snap. He could see the fragility that lurked beneath that anger, that hurt buried deep inside him that he had tried to repress for so long. Jay could see that, despite his efforts to convince himself that everything was under control, Sunghoon was drowning in an ocean of pain he refused to acknowledge.

Sunghoon finally looked down, avoiding Jay's insistent gaze. He grabbed a bandage and wrapped it around his bloodied hands, but he didn't have the strength to do it properly. His fingers were shaking, each movement an automatic mechanism, an unconscious action. He tightened the bandage around his wrists with an almost feverish determination, as if by tightening the bonds he could hold back the pain that threatened to engulf everything.

Jay approached slowly, quietly, and placed a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder. The gesture was simple, but it carried the full weight of friendship, of silent understanding, of deep compassion that needed no words. There was no rush in his touch, just a steady, reassuring presence. “You know, Sunghoon, facing Heeseung won’t change anything if you’re not willing to face what he’s awakened in you. It’s not hatred that will make you stronger, but what you choose to do with it.”

Sunghoon stood there for a long moment, his eyes blank, staring into the nothingness before him. The silence of the boxing gym was oppressive, heavy like a cloud of tension hanging in the air, but inside him, it was something else entirely. Jay's words echoed in his head, seeping into his mind like a slowly spreading poison, leaving a burning trace behind.

Every sentence, every syllable, struck sensitive chords within him, wounds he thought were closed but that, with each touch, reopened. Jay was right. It was a truth he could no longer ignore, as painful as it was. But accepting it, facing it, was a chasm he did not dare cross yet. It was an abyss too deep, too frightening. If he acknowledged it, he would lose everything he had built, all this facade he tried to maintain.

His heart beat in a staccato rhythm, each beat marking a break from what he had always thought he knew. He let out a shaky sigh, almost inaudible, like a weight breaking in his soul, loud in his mind, though his body remained frozen. The heat of the room seemed to transform into a suffocating heat around him. Sunghoon tried to swallow this pain, to push it back, but it was there, it would not go away.

Sunghoon straightened up slowly, his movements were mechanical, as if he were forcing his body to obey a will that was no longer his own. He searched for the mask he had worn for so long, this mask of coldness and disdain, the one that had protected him from the truth, from his own feelings. But he knew deep down that Jay had seen him, that he had broken through this shell with disconcerting ease. And that, more than anything, was unbearable.

“Why are you doing this, Jay?” The question came out of his lips with difficulty, each word carrying an almost unbearable weight. His voice was low, hoarse, trembling with anger and confusion. Sunghoon felt his fists clench again, but he didn’t have the strength to keep them closed. “Why do you insist on bringing me back to this, on reminding me… of what I want to forget?” He looked away, as if he could erase Jay’s words, as if running away could ease the torment that was eating away at him. But he knew he couldn’t run away, not this time. This emptiness, this pain, was inside him, ingrained in his flesh, and running away from Jay’s gaze would only make it stronger.

Jay stared at him in silence, his gaze heavy with understanding, calm, and deep gravity. His eyes seemed to probe every corner of Sunghoon's soul, every crack, every piece of his broken being, without any reluctance. He didn't turn away, he didn't run away from the intensity of this confrontation. He knew that Sunghoon needed this space, this confrontation, even if he wasn't ready to accept it. Jay gave Sunghoon all the space for his anger, for his need to flee, for his inner struggle. He waited, without rushing, as if he knew that at some point, the truth would finally come out.

Then, finally, he answered, in a low voice, but full of that simple wisdom that knew how to touch where it hurt.

“Because you deserve to be free from all of this, Sunghoon.” The words echoed in the air, their weight landing heavily on Sunghoon’s shoulders. “Because as long as you remain trapped in this hatred, this pain, Heeseung will continue to have power over you, even if he’s not there. And that’s worse than any defeat.”

Jay's words crashed down on Sunghoon like a wave of truth. It washed over him, not with the violence of a storm, but with the cold sweetness of a reality he could no longer escape. Sunghoon felt his heart tighten, a wave of pain that slowly spread throughout his body. It was as if something inside him was finally breaking, as if the lock he had taken care to seal for years had just given way, letting everything escape. He felt a strange combination of anger and relief. The rage was still there, burning, but it was now mixed with a feeling of emptiness, of weakness. This pain that he had locked away so tenaciously, this suffering that he thought he could control, was beginning to fail in his hands. Sunghoon was no longer in control. He could no longer run from this truth.

A silence settled then, heavy, palpable. The room seemed to tighten around him, the walls closing in, the air becoming more stifling. Sunghoon turned his head, avoiding Jay's gaze, as if to protect himself. He stared at an invisible point on the ground, but the truth remained there, inside him, deeply inked. He felt his breath catch, the anger still present, but more desperate, more disarming. The violence that inhabited him clashed with this reality, and he no longer knew how to contain it. He took a deep breath, his shoulders shrugging under the effort of holding back everything he felt boiling inside him.

Eventually, Sunghoon's voice grew quieter, almost a whisper, a confession that didn't ask for an answer, but simply sought to come out.

"He should never have betrayed me."

The words escaped like a breach in a dam, fragile, broken. It was an admission heavy with regret, disappointment, raw, naked pain. It wasn’t just the betrayal that consumed him, but everything that came with it: the broken friendship, the shattered trust, the certainty that he wasn’t worthy of being loved, of being respected. He felt vulnerable, almost naked under Jay’s gaze, as if every word he spoke revealed a little more of himself, a little more of what he’d always wanted to hide.

The silence that followed was almost unbearable, heavy with everything he didn't say, with what he couldn't yet face. Memories of Heeseung, of their friendship, of the betrayal that had destroyed everything, jostled in his mind, chaotic, unfinished. Anger, pain, abandonment... all of it mixed in a silent, endless storm that continued to torment him. And even if Sunghoon had said those words, even if he had said what he didn't allow himself to feel, he knew that he wasn't ready to fully face them yet. He wasn't ready to face what was deep inside him. But maybe, just maybe, one day he would be.

And maybe, on that day, Sunghoon could finally leave the pain behind.

Jay approached him slowly, without a sound, his hand placed on his shoulder with apparent gentleness, but this gentleness hid a firm determination. He knew that Sunghoon, in this state, would not easily allow someone to approach, much less lay a hand on him. But Jay was not the type to back down in the face of a challenge, and this proximity, far from disturbing him, seemed rather to give him a calm, almost soothing authority.

Jay’s voice cut through the silence of the room like a cleaver, measured but heavy with meaning. “We don’t always choose who hurts us, or how they hurt us,” he said quietly, the words falling like stones into a silent pond. “But we can choose how to rebuild ourselves afterward. This fight against Heeseung… It’s not just revenge. It’s a chance to show that you’re stronger than this betrayal, that you won’t let it define who you are.”

Sunghoon froze, his eyes glazed over, as if he had tried to swallow Jay's words while refusing to let them sink in too deeply. He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his fists, feeling every word Jay said sink into his veins like a sweet, sneaky poison. Everything inside him screamed to resist, to not accept this truth, but deep down he knew Jay was right. He hadn't chosen Heeseung's betrayal, or the pain that had come with it. But now, in this moment, Sunghoon was still choosing to fight. Or at least, that's what he told himself.

Sunghoon closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He tried to calm himself, to control the tide of conflicting emotions that were surging through him. But each breath seemed to feed an inner fire that he hadn’t been able to extinguish. Their faces overlapped in his mind, Heeseung’s, Jay’s. The tension that held him, the pain that gnawed at him… it all kept looping. He gritted his teeth, feeling a dull frustration bubbling inside him. He wasn’t ready to face the truth. He wasn’t ready to look deep inside himself.

When he finally opened his eyes, he met Jay's gaze, and this time, he didn't look away. For the first time in a long time, he didn't try to hide his vulnerability. There was something deeply human about this encounter, something broken, something irreparable. His eyes shone with a light that betrayed more than pain; there was also this crack, this old fatigue, this endless struggle against what he felt. He felt like a stranger within himself, lost in an internal war that never seemed to end.

“I tried to rebuild myself,” he whispered, his words barely audible, almost drowned out by the weight of his own exhaustion. “I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter anymore, that I could move on without him… but this rage, this hatred… it’s all I have left.”

Sunghoon's words were laden with such raw truth that they seemed to hang in the air, heavy and painful. Jay felt a pang in his heart as he heard them, not out of pity, but because he understood, perhaps better than anyone, the inner vortex that was consuming Sunghoon. He knew that this anger was not simply a reaction to an act of betrayal, but a response to a deep pain that he had never known how to treat except with rage. But Jay, with infinite gentleness, answered in his calm, implacable voice.

“Then let her go,” he whispered, almost like a caress. “Let that rage go and find who you really are, Sunghoon. Not the fighter consumed by hatred, but the man who deserves to live without being haunted by the past.”

There was no judgment in his words. No blame. Just a silent invitation to let go of the chains that held him back. Jay knew it wasn’t easy. He knew the road would be long, fraught with pitfalls, but he believed in himself. He believed in the possibility of healing, even if Sunghoon didn’t see it yet.

Jay's words fell on Sunghoon like a warm rain, soft but painful. It was a balm on a wound he had ignored for too long. Sunghoon felt his fists unclench imperceptibly, as if the weight of the hatred that had kept him alive for so many years was suddenly lighter. His arms trembled slightly, and he had to concentrate to control the tremors that threatened to overwhelm him. It was as if all his strength, his energy, were dissipating, carried away by a flood he no longer controlled.

He slowly turned his head to Jay, his eyes filled with silent gratitude, deep and sincere. Words were useless. He didn't need to speak. Jay knew. And somehow, Sunghoon also knew that he had found someone who, for the first time, wouldn't ask him to be stronger, more impassive. Someone who saw him, with all his flaws, all his wounds. And who, despite everything, remained there.

A slight, almost imperceptible smile touched Sunghoon's lips. It wasn't a triumphant smile, but a smile filled with gratitude, with fragility. He wasn't ready to forget yet. Nor to forgive. But he knew he wasn't alone in this quest anymore. He didn't have to fight his own demons alone anymore.

And in that dark, cold, and almost silent room, Sunghoon felt, for the first time in far too long, a little peace. Not the peace of forgiveness or forgetting, but that of a man who, little by little, was beginning to free himself from his chains.

The door had barely closed behind Sunghoon, and immediately the air in the room seemed to take on a pressure, heavy and palpable. The silence that followed became as dense as a storm cloud ready to burst. You looked at him, but he was no longer the distant man you knew, nor the one you had learned to love despite his flaws, his silences, his outbursts. Tonight, he was nothing more than a silhouette, a flickering shadow, almost unreal. His features were marked by something deeper, darker, a torment that he had taken care to hide until then but which now seemed to overflow, to explode to the surface. Sunghoon was like a broken man, and yet, he still struggled, with this silent violence that inhabited his body. The void that had formed between you was loaded with invisible tensions, with unspoken but intense presences.

Your heart clenched in your chest, beating too hard, too fast. Each beat seemed to echo the growing worry that was taking over you. You wanted to break this silence, but nothing seemed to be able to lighten the air between you. Sunghoon stared at you, without looking away, his dark, unfathomable eyes burning with an almost unbearable intensity. He pierced you, probed you as if he were trying to read the depths of your soul, to discover something you weren't even ready to reveal to him. Every movement of his body seemed tense, on the verge of tearing itself apart. It was as if you could feel his desire to act, an uncontrollable impulse that he was holding back, but for how much longer? The energy between you was electrifying, wild, and you could feel it coursing through you, running through your skin like a shiver that awakened every fiber of your being.

A mixture of fear and desire, reluctance and attraction, overwhelmed you. You knew this feeling, but tonight it was different, more violent. It was like an inner tug that tore you apart, an incessant struggle between fleeing and giving in. You had always known that there was something between you, a complicated bond, made of frustrations, unspoken things, repressed passions, but there, in this suspended moment, it was as if the outside world no longer existed. Everything was just him, this brute force and this growing tension that accumulated between your bodies, ready to spill out.

You wanted to speak, to say something to break the heaviness of waiting, but as soon as you whispered his name, "Sunghoon," everything changed. He moved so suddenly that you were barely aware of it. In a split second, he was in front of you, his massive presence enveloping you. There was no more distance between you. He was there, so close that you could feel the heat of his body, intense, burning, radiating through the air, penetrating you like a wild fire. His breath brushed your skin, short and jerky, as if he was struggling to find his rhythm, to tame what he was feeling. You could almost feel every beat of his heart, that tension that inhabited every fiber of his being, that inner tremor contained in every movement, every gesture.

You tensed under the pressure of his proximity. Your heart clenched again, but this time, it was fear that dominated, a visceral fear that you couldn't shake. He stared at you, his gaze as dark and unfathomable as the abyss. A part of you wanted to back away, to flee this intensity, but another part, more secret, more buried, burned with the same fire as him. It was a dangerous fire, a flame that risked engulfing everything it touched if you gave in to it. You were no longer in control of your body, or your thoughts. Every fiber of your being was caught in this spiral, swallowed up by him, by everything he gave off.

His hands rested on your arms, at first unreal softly. But you felt the strength behind this contact, each finger brushing you with a delicacy that barely concealed an urgency, a restrained violence. It was as if you were a rope stretched to the limit, ready to give way under this pressure. Sunghoon's fingers closed slightly on your skin, making you shiver, like a warning. Each touch electrified you, but also frightened you, because you knew that what he was holding back could explode at any moment.

You couldn't escape him. He paralyzed you, from head to toe, like an invisible embrace but more powerful than any physical force. Every word, every gesture, dug a chasm between you, pushing you further and further into this night of uncertainties and possibilities. And yet, a part of you felt surprisingly calm. But this inner calm was only a fragile facade, which would last only a few seconds before the storm broke. And in that suspended moment, as he held you there, so close, you understood that the storm had already begun.

Sunghoon was no longer the same man you knew. He was no longer the man you thought you understood. Tonight, he was a rougher, wilder, more desperate version of himself. And you weren't the same either. You found yourself caught in this whirlwind, a spectator and an actress in this moment, unable to detach yourself from it, unable to escape this tension that was devouring you. The air was heavy, saturated with desire, frustration and need, and at that precise moment, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

“I… I don’t know who I am anymore,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, broken by an emotion he never wanted to show you again. His words seemed to tear themselves away from him, painful, like a confession he had never dared to make. He was there, in front of you, completely immersed in a vulnerability that made him almost unreal. Yet, every gesture, every movement he made betrayed an urgency, a desire to find himself in your arms. He approached slowly, his forehead brushing yours, an almost timid contact, as if he needed this proximity to breathe, as if your lips were the only thing that could save him.

You felt his hands slide, gently at first, then with a slight firmness, from your arms to your waist. When he finally pulled you against him, it was with such intensity, such urgency, that you almost lost your breath. An electric shock spread through your body, soft and brutal at the same time, a shiver that was born in the pit of your stomach, mixing desire and an unspeakable fear. Sunghoon pulled you towards him, as if you were the only thing capable of filling this void in which he was drowning. The world around you seemed to disappear, like a mist dissipated by the heat of your bodies, and there was only the two of you, alone, suspended in a space saturated with tension. The air seemed too heavy, too charged with this shared emotion, and you could almost hear the electric hum of the tension that floated between your bodies.

His hands slid slowly along your waist, brushing your skin with an almost unbearable slowness. Each movement was an exploration, an intimate search, as if he wanted to imprint every curve, every detail of your body in his memory, to mark his possession. It was not just a physical contact. It was a path of fire that ran through your skin, a soft but penetrating burn, awakening in you an incandescent, irresistible desire. And yet, in this burning fever, a dull fear invaded you. What would happen if you gave in to this call? If you abandoned yourself to him in this fragility, in this confusion? Doubt crept into you, but it was drowned under the wave of heat that rose in your veins.

“I see you… I feel you,” he whispered, his voice trembling, each word infused with an intense heat, almost a plea. He leaned down then, his lips brushing your ear, a hot, almost possessive breath that made an uncontrollable shiver run through your skin. “Don’t leave me… Don’t push me away.”

Those words, loaded with desire and desperation, hit you right in the heart. You knew he needed you, but did you know what you could offer him in this state? Was it even possible to bear such intensity? Sunghoon came closer, so close that you could feel the weight of his body against yours, like an unbearable heat that invaded the space around you. His hands slid down your back, his fingers tracing burning lines on your skin, marking the air between you with each movement. It wasn't just a caress, it was a silent claim, an act of possession, a way of reminding you that you were his. All his. In that suspended moment, you felt torn between two opposing forces. A part of you, drowned in fear, tensed, ready to flee, while another, darker, deeper, let itself be swallowed up by this intensity. That all-consuming, almost destructive force that emanated from him seemed to arouse an insane desire in you, an urgency you would never have imagined.

The danger in his eyes, in his gestures, paralyzed you, but in a strange way, you let yourself be enveloped by this proximity. You knew that you should be afraid, that this excessive heat, this too powerful desire were warning signs, but instead of fleeing, you let yourself be overwhelmed by it. Each movement of his body against yours, each breath, each brush rekindled a fire in you, a fire that you did not want, but that you could no longer extinguish.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice almost pleading, vulnerability cutting through his words like a blade. His hands tightened on your skin then, his fingers digging into your flesh with an almost painful force, but you didn’t struggle. You didn’t move. You didn’t want to run. Not now. Not when he looked so broken, so lost. “Tell me you’re here. That you’re not leaving.”

His hands, which had become invisible chains, encircled you more and more, each movement making him more present, more indispensable. The warmth of his body, the strength of his desire, the pressure of his hands paralyzed you, but at the same time, a strange peace invaded you. A gentle resignation, as if you were agreeing to let yourself be engulfed by the inner storm that raged inside him, inside you. It was a fragile moment, suspended between two worlds, where you stopped fighting against the intensity of the moment.

“I’m here,” you whispered, your voice trembling, a breath almost inaudible, but infinitely sincere. “I’m not leaving, Sunghoon.”

At these words, you felt his body relax slightly against yours, as if, for a fleeting moment, he had found a semblance of peace in the warmth of your embrace. But this peace, you knew, was only a fragile illusion, ready to dissipate at the slightest tension. He held you against him with such force that it was almost suffocating, as if his body was trying to merge with yours, to erase all the distances between you. Sunghoon needed you, more than you could imagine, and this urgency in his gestures struck you right in the heart. He feared, you saw it in every movement, that you would disappear, that all this was only an ephemeral dream ready to shatter in an instant. His lips, until now barely brushing your skin, finally slid against your neck, slowly, like a burning caress, tracing a fiery line from your ear to your shoulder. It wasn't a simple kiss or a touch: it was a mark. A silent but definitive marking.

“You belong to me,” he whispered against your skin, his voice husky, haunting, filled with an icy certainty that sent shivers down your spine. Every word was heavy with meaning, every syllable filled with a consuming conviction. “And I won’t let you go. Ever.”

There was a force in his words that almost crushed you. The finality, the inflexibility of what he was saying, held you in an invisible grip. It was a statement, a promise. And you knew that he wasn't just talking about you as a person, but about this obsession that consumed him, this need to keep you close to him, against him. A part of you, probably the most lucid, rebelled against the idea of this bond so implacable, so possessive. But another part of you, deeper, more vulnerable, was fascinated by the raw force of his desire, by the intensity with which he seemed to implore you without a word, without the slightest confession. It was terrifying, you knew it. But it captivated you just as much.

His hands moved up your back, caressing the skin of your body with an unbearable slowness. Each movement seemed both calm and desperate, as if he was trying not to lose everything every second. You felt the warmth of his palms, the urgency in his gestures that nevertheless lingered on each curve, on each small detail of your skin. When he buried his face in the hollow of your neck, you shuddered under the intensity of his hot breath that brushed your skin with an almost painful tenderness. The smell of his perfume, mixed with that of sweat, desire and adrenaline, invaded the air around you, intoxicating each of your senses, making you insensitive to the rest of the world. The air was thick, charged with this palpable energy that seemed to surround you, to impregnate you. You could feel the tension in his muscles, his inner struggle not to give in to the madness that devoured him.

You knew that his desire, his need for you, was not simple. It was not only fueled by attraction, by a shared passion. No, it was more complex, more terrifying. His desire was fueled by anger, by a pain that he could not tame. He carried within him a dull rage, an inner violence that he tried to control, but which, with each contact, seemed to intensify, to burst with a devastating force. It was this internal fight, this struggle between pain and passion, between light and darkness, that paralyzed you and fascinated you at the same time. It was this part of Sunghoon, this dark part that he could not control, that left you breathless.

Sunghoon pulled you even closer, if that was possible, his body pressed against yours with such force that you could feel every beat of his heart, every gasping breath he took, as if his lungs and yours were trying to intertwine, to merge into one rhythm. The intensity of this moment was almost unbearable, overwhelming, each second stretching out, weighing on you like a metal bell, forcing you to feel every movement, every breath. You could feel the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, urging you to answer his call, to surrender to this heat, to this irresistible desire that was rising inside you, relentless.

In this whirlwind of conflicting emotions, a part of you felt guilty, frightened by the way you gave yourself over to him, by the ease with which you let yourself be carried away in this whirlwind. The guilt rose in you like a swell ready to submerge you. But it quickly drowned under the immensity of desire, under the passion that united you. His hands slid along your body with a devastating certainty, as if he needed to possess you, to mark every inch of your skin so that there would be no more doubt: you were his. Not only physically, but also spiritually. Each shiver he caused in you was delicious and disturbing at the same time. It was a mixture of pleasure and fear, an unstable balance that you were content to live, blinded by the intensity of the moment.

Sunghoon, you knew, was a broken man, and that came at a price. You had seen it, you had felt it in every gesture, in every word. He was not whole, he was fractured, torn apart by something bigger than him. And you were there, caught in this tornado, unable to detach yourself from it. But in his eyes, in this glow that cut through the mist of his suffering, you also perceived something else. A glimmer of hope, a quest for redemption that he could not even recognize, even to himself. It was this glow, fragile, uncertain, that still held you back. Because despite everything that was chaotic and broken between you, you perceived this part of him that was looking for something more, something better. And in this inner struggle, you could not help but lose yourself a little more each day.

The beating of his heart echoed against your chest, and in this strange suspension of time, you felt a tremor of apprehension that mixed with a burning desire. This was no longer simply a moment between you, but a boundary crossed, a point of no return that changed everything. The future stretched out before you, uncertain and threatening, but the reality of what you shared there, in this unsettling proximity, was undeniable, brutal and strangely beautiful in its dark depth.

“Let me use you, Y/n… I need it.” His voice rose, soft but charged with an unfathomable urgency, each word vibrating with that irrepressible need. There was a gravity in his whisper, as if his voice itself carried the weight of his darkest desires. Sunghoon’s lips brushed your delicate skin, sliding with a burning slowness, each brush sending electric shocks through your body. The heat of his breath against your neck made you shiver, a visceral desire that rose, more and more insistent, more and more relentless. He nipped at your skin with a possessive gentleness, leaving hot and marked marks, each touch igniting a flame in your belly, a flame that seemed to engulf everything else.

Your heart raced, your breath shortened as you slid a hand around his back, pressing him against you with an irresistible force. Your body reacted uncontrollably to this call, to this shared desire that made everything around you waver. Nodding slowly, you felt the tension in his gaze, this gleam that lit up in his pupils, as wild as it was possessive, promising a night without restraint, an unbridled pleasure where you were both the object and the center of everything he desired. His eyes, inflamed by an older, deeper thirst, shone with a primal need that you could not ignore, an emotion that went far beyond physical attraction.

In a fluid but determined movement, he lifted you up, as if you were nothing but a breath, suspended for a moment, his powerful body tightening around yours with an authority that made you shiver. His arms closed around you with the firmness of a man who knew exactly what he wanted, what he needed. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pressing yourself against him, and you felt the warmth of his skin against yours, every muscle tense, every heartbeat like an echo of your own. The anticipation rose with every step he took towards your room, every movement of his body bringing you closer to irreversibility, as if everything that was about to happen was written in the air between you. The air was saturated with desire, with that palpable energy, every second pushing you to want even more of him.

When he laid you down on the bed, the mattress felt like both a refuge and an invitation to lose yourself. The feel of the blanket under your back was comforting and electrifying at the same time, a promise to release all resistance, to dive into this sea of confused but irresistible emotions. Sunghoon, above you, positioned himself with a quiet dominance, and you couldn't help but be struck by the intensity of his presence, both intoxicating and terrifying. It was a force that stunned and attracted you, a magnetism that left you vulnerable, but at the same time, ready to give yourself entirely. You could feel your entire body tense under him, the warmth of his body close to yours as a constant reminder of what was happening here.

Your gaze locked with his, a storm of conflicting thoughts. There was a burning passion in his eyes that pierced you, as if he were trying to pierce the deepest layers of your being. Every beat of your heart resonated within you, every breath shorter than the last. When he kissed your cheek, his lips brushed your skin with a burning heat, a sensation that traced a shiver down your spine. It was a possessive sweetness, a gesture both tender and full of promise, but also of an implacable certainty. He was marking you, not just physically, but in everything you felt, everything you were.

You could feel the struggle inside him, that strange mix of desire, anger, and an overwhelming need to keep you close. His gestures were both urgent and disconcertingly gentle, as if he wanted to reassure himself that you were there, that you weren't going to disappear. But in that tension, you could also sense something even deeper, a fragility he was hiding, an old wound he didn't know how to heal. And despite the confusion, despite the fear that was growing deep inside you, you let yourself be carried away by this storm.

His hands moved forward slowly, almost with palpable impatience, searching for the fabric of your top as if he couldn’t wait to discover what was hidden underneath. When he touched the fabric, he seemed to hesitate for a moment, enjoying the contact before slowly sliding it over your skin. His fingers were cold, but the shiver they triggered wasn’t due to the coldness. Sunghoon brushed your skin delicately, and with each touch, a soft sigh of desire mingled with the growing tension between you. When he removed your top, he did so with calculated slowness, taking his time to reveal your bare skin to the dim light of the room, each movement imbued with power and control. His gaze intensified, scrutinizing every curve of your body with an almost palpable obsession. He kept devouring you with his eyes, as if the sight of your bare skin was the only thing that existed anymore. Every inch of your body seemed to attract him even more, like prey that he was slowly savoring.

Sunghoon pulled away from you for a moment, but it was only to get closer, sliding slowly down. His tongue, hot and wet, grazed your skin, tracing burning lines on your stomach, each gesture gentle but determined. The feeling of his tongue sliding over you made you shiver, a wave of heat took hold of your body, a quivering anticipation overwhelmed you. He seemed to taste every moment, every bit of your skin, as if he wanted to lose himself in this sensation for eternity. He went even lower, and the slowness of his movements drove you crazy with impatience, each movement stretching, accentuating the unbearable desire that was rising in you.

When he pulled off your sweatpants, his slowness was almost unbearable. You were completely exposed to him now, every inch of your body offered to his hungry gaze. The tension in the air was palpable, almost electric, as if every breath, every movement, was charged with a desire that was just waiting to explode. He didn't take his eyes off you, his dark pupils fixed on you, and you could feel an almost possessive devotion emanating from him. He looked at you as if he was marking you, as if you were becoming his definitively with each passing second.

Sunghoon pulled away briefly before positioning himself behind you. A shiver of anticipation ran through your body as he turned you around abruptly, forcing you onto all fours, your hands quivering against the bed. This position, more vulnerable than ever, brought out in you a total submission, but also a strange feeling of control, as if you were offering everything you were, and he was the one who decided the moment, the pace. He placed a firm hand on your hips, immobilizing you for a moment before hitting your buttocks with a sharp blow. The sound of the impact resonated in the room, powerful, like a signature of authority. The pain was sharp, but it immediately mixed with an intense pleasure, a heat that invaded every part of your body. A cry escaped your lips, almost involuntary, a sound of pain and pleasure mixed together, a symphony of sensations that you could no longer distinguish.

He struck again, and this time, you lost yourself in the sweet pain, each impact a shock that made your senses vibrate. His nails dug into your skin, marking your flesh with a deep imprint, as if he were claiming you in the most primal way. There was no more room for thought, just a whirlwind of raw sensations that invaded your mind. His blows were more intense, deeper, each gesture a proof of his total control, but also an invitation to abandon yourself to him. You felt your body tense under him, ready to respond to every impulse, every gesture from him.

An involuntary moan escaped your throat, and he followed it with a low, almost mocking laugh before whispering, his voice husky and full of desire, “You’re so wet for me, princess… you’ve wanted my cock for a long time, haven’t you?” His voice was soft, almost bittersweet, and every word he spoke seemed to penetrate your mind, slipping into your deepest thoughts. His eyes never left your body, he watched with almost clinical attention the way your arousal slowly slid down your thigh, the liquid becoming an obvious mark of your desire.

“Sunghoon… take me, don’t keep me waiting,” you whispered, your voice broken, trembling, an almost desperate plea escaping your lips. Each syllable was a torture of impatience and uncontrollable desire. You heard his laughter echo through the room, a promise of imminent pleasure, a warning too, a signal that the moment had finally come. The sound of his clothes being torn made you shiver, each movement increasing the anticipation that consumed you. When he finally placed the tip of his desire against your intimacy, a shiver of excitement ran through you, making you aware of every sensation, every moment that preceded the explosion of desire.

“I’m not going to be gentle, princess,” he growled, and in one brutal motion, he thrust into you, letting his cock sink deep, like a devastating wave. The pain was intense, a brutal shock that left you speechless for a moment. But it quickly transformed into a searing ecstasy, a pleasure that unfolded with every movement, every thrust. The world seemed to shrink at the sensation, your body tensing, folding around him, struggling to match his relentless pace. You felt your stomach and your innermost core buckle under the impact, each thrust pushing him deeper into you, until you were one with him, a single entity.

You moaned, lost in the fusion of sensations, a cry escaping from your throat with each movement, with each thrust. Sunghoon held on tightly to you, his hands digging into your skin, the rhythm of his movements becoming more powerful, more relentless, until you lost all sense of time, letting yourself be carried away by this wave of ecstasy and pain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taglist : @heeknow @moonpri

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parfaitblogs · 2 months ago

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state of grace ❀ s. reid x reader

in which your cat has taken liking to your friend with benefits, and you begin to battle with the consequential feelings.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: fluff (18+ for suggestive content) tags: established friends with benefits. reader has a cat. your cat likes him more than you :( avoidant!reader for like a teensie second. it's okay happy ending. the happiest possible ending actually. fade to black. word count: 1.9k a/n: sometimes the most beautiful poetry can be about simple things. like a cat. :) im a dog person. idk why i wrote this.

Seventeen times.

That is how many times Spencer Reid had found residence at your apartment in the past month alone, taking up the space on the other side of your bed. Thirteen of those times he had stayed the night. Six of those times, he had come for sex. The other eleven? He had come because you needed a friend.

Or, rather, your cat did.

You had discovered you weren't any more complex than your average man, at the end of the day. Human beings are at their core created to love and be loved, and by extension, to want and be wanted. You wanted Spencer, and you were wanted by Spencer. For both your friendship, and the intimacy your relationship provided.

But you did not love him, and he did not love you.

Cat's are anything but fickle creatures. A lot of your best friendships were centred around whether or not your cat developed a liking to the person or not. Oftentimes, your fleeting relationships came down to the odd sixth sense the animal had for disliking the worst people. That, and your one night stands were never a crowd favourite within the walls of your apartment. And yet; Spencer Reid.

He was nothing short of charming. In a sort of dorky way, yes. But whatever socially romantic skills he lacked, he most certainly made up for by giving you the best of just about everything in bed. A small part of you wants to claim it's human instinct to know how to worship the person meant for you, but the logical reason is probably his eidetic memory knowing exactly what he's doing after a singular trial run. Entertaining the thought of being his soulmate was not a wise choice.

He most certainly was your cat's, though. The Ragdoll always jumping down to greet him the second he stepped foot in your apartment, usually resulting in the break of a kiss and a five minute intermission before the two of you could do anything.

At first, it was an inconvenience. Your cat had never taken such a liking to a person you'd brought home before, and it was jarring to watch a man you were partially trying to undress, stop everything to pet your cat. Now, it is simply endearing. You've stopped trying to steal Spencer's attention before the cat does, and you've come to the conclusion that Spencer's priority list will always be the feline, then you.

Today was, seemingly, no different. Despite the dull ache between your legs and the fact that this visit had started as something as obscene as Spencer calling from his work bathroom to ask if he could come over after for he was, and you quote, in dire need to touch you (among many other things), whatever those needs were, were put on hold.

You smile regardless, leaning against the edge of your couch as he crouches down to meet Po — yes, like the panda — his hand immediately reaching out for the cat to run his head along.

Spencer's head lifts to look at you. "Morgan thinks Po isn't a real cat, and we've just got a name for your—um—" his brain catches up to his mouth mid sentence, and he's stammering his way to silence.

"Please tell me you defended my cat's honour," you retort.

"I did! I even showed him the photo I took of him while you were in the shower last week. He thinks it's a different person's cat."

You shake your head in disapproval. "Unbelievable. Your coworker thinks we've named my pussy."

"That's just Morgan."

"I wish Po could speak English. Then he could hear this nonsense, and stop loving you more than me," you grumble, and Spencer's lips twitch up into a smile, as he situates himself on the floor, the cat climbing into his lap.

"Actually, he technically can. Cat's can understand up to thirty-five words in whatever language you train them in. Also, when they meow, they begin trying to mimic the sound of certain human words. It's their vocal tract that prevents them from literally speaking English," he explains.

But, you're too invested in the way his long fingers are delicately running through the cat's hair, to both respond, and really pay any attention at all.

You had had fleeting thoughts about real feelings for Spencer two months ago. Brushing them off as loneliness and your need to satiate the hopeless romantic within you, you'd forgotten about it up until this recent week.

He'd been over every single day, sometimes for sex, oftentimes for a movie and dinner (which was usually a bowl of pasta you had overestimated while cooking). And every single time, you'd developed an overwhelming anxious pit in your stomach when watching him interact with Po, your heart fluttering the entire time, mind running rampant on domestic thoughts you should be squashing.

Should be, but weren't.

You'd tried to put it down to the motherly instinct you had over the animal. Seeing somebody else treat him with as much love and care as you did was endearing — it wasn't a Spencer Reid specific trait. Yet, here you were.

"I feel like the benefits of this relationship have changed," you say, seating yourself in front of Spencer on the floor, Po lifting his head to look at the person behind the sudden movement, before he let it rest back on Spencer's thigh.

"To what?"

"My cat," you huff, and Spencer laughs.

"He is my favourite benefit thus far," he muses.

"The feeling is definitely mutual," you nod your head to Po, whose eyes were now shut, seemingly quite comfortable disregarding all your personal plans and taking Spencer's attention.

"Animals don't usually like me," he comments. "I don't know why Po is different."

Oh, you had a few ideas why.

"Maybe he's exercising the keep your enemies closer life motto," you offer, and Spencer's eyebrows shoot up in faux offence.

"This is unadulterated love," he protests. "He does not think of me as an enemy."

"That's what he wants you to believe," you hum, pushing yourself up on your legs. "Well, since plans have been rudely interrupted, do you want some dinner?"

"Sure," he answers, though his attention is back on Po. Clearly so, for he says, "I'll get to our original plans after we eat, don't worry," almost absentmindedly.

It's the kind of thing that makes you forget you're in the room with the dictionary definition of a nerd. You know it's only because sometimes he says what he is thinking without thinking. It doesn't do anything to help the ongoing internal battle about your feelings for him.

Or maybe he does know exactly what he's doing.

"You should get a cat," you say, heading into your kitchen to find something for the two of you to eat. "You seem to like them enough."

"Why? I have yours."

"I'm not going to be around forever," you reply, unthinking. "I mean, one day we're gonna have to end this because the other has found someone they want to be with. Properly. It wouldn't be fair to keep a friendship."

He falls silent, and when you lift your head, you see he's staring at you with an almost confused frown on his face, which triggers your own confusion to appear. His scratching of Po's head has been interrupted, and you're starting to question what was wrong about what you had said.

Sure, you're pretty sure you have feelings for him, but as far as you knew, they were one sided. Right?

"I didn't—I thought—" he cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, then continues. "I thought that had changed this past month."

"What do you mean?"

"I just—I've been here for things other than sex a lot. I thought you knew I liked you, and you were subtly trying to tell me you liked me too. I'm starting to sense I misread that."

For a profiler, he was incredibly awful at reading you.

"Yeah..." You slowly nod your head, but it's the deepening of his frown that has you rushing to add, "I mean, I—I do. Like you. I'm kind of embarrassed that was obvious. But I didn't think you liked me outside of having sex with me. I wasn't trying to communicate my feelings. I was trying to hide them."

"Oh," he falls silent again. "So the times I’ve been here in the past month weren’t makeshift dates?"

"They weren't intended that way..." you trail off. "Did you see them as dates?"

"Kind of, I guess," he's back to running his fingers through Po's fur, just to keep his anxious hands busy. "They don't have to be, if you don't want them to. I just thought this feeling was mutual and we were... I guess, dating."

"The feeling is mutual," you quickly correct him. "I know that now. I didn't think we were dating because I didn't think you liked me back. Changing our relationship kind of needs to be a conversation."

"Right," he breathes out, an awkward smile painting his lips. "Is this the conversation, then?"

"I guess?"

"So now we're dating."

"If that's what you want," you nod, head feeling a little fuzzy.

"Is it what you want?" he presses. Always the gentleman.

"Maybe," you muse, leaning forwards against the kitchen countertop.

He's watching you, and for a second you let the silence fall over you, fearful that you've just discouraged him enough to ruin things between you. He carefully takes Po off his lap, the cat running into your room the second his paws hit the hardwood floor, and he's standing up to move over to you.

"I don't like maybe," he frowns. "Yes or no?"

You blink, realising he was evidently too anxious of your genuine response to have any recognition to your poor attempt of a joke.

"Yes, Spencer. That's what I want," you're breathless as you speak, and you're thankful for the relieved smile that stretches across his lips.

"That's what I want too," he answers.

"Yeah, I figured." Your second attempt at a tease lands, and he huffs a small laugh, which warms your heart. "Do you still want dinner?"

He had somehow gotten closer to you throughout the awkward enough conversation, and he was sliding his arms around your waist. Something he had done many times before, yes, and yet this time it was feeling much more intimate, and your heart was thrumming against your chest a little harder than usual.

"Maybe it can wait?" he offers, ducking his head down, lips ghosting over your own. "I don't have a bothersome cat keeping me preoccupied from you, now."

Despite yourself, you poke a finger into his chest and say, "Don't insult Po."

"I'm not. Just merely stating an obvious fact."

"I'll call him back in here to preoccupy me."

"He has selective hearing. And he likes me more than you."

Your lips drop into a frown, lower lip jutting out, and Spencer is quick to try and kiss it off within seconds of noticing it.

"I'm sorry. That was mean. I promise he doesn't like me more than you," he says, though his voice is too amused to be entirely sincere.

"That was mean," you agree with a firm nod. "You're very mean to me, Spencer Reid."

"I know, I'm awful. Can I make it up to you, sweet girl?"

Well, when he asks you like that.

"Mm..." you hesitate, but he's already guiding you around, walking you backwards, through your apartment and towards your bedroom. "Yeah, I guess so."

Hands that were around your waist hike your shirt up, his lips still kissing against your skin despite the intense multitasking he was forcing upon the two of you.

"Thank you."

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x you

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lemonlover1110 · 2 months ago

Text

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐫

Satoru Gojo

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Summary: Satoru is your best friend's boyfriend, you shouldn't like him.

Warnings: MDNI, Angst, Cheating (on Satoru, not from reader), Smut, Oral Sex (m. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Daddy Kink, Spanking, Fluff, Hair descriptions for reader

*This is another commission for @mew4-ever18, y'all can thank her again! I hope you guys enjoy because it's truly a wild but fun ride🙂‍↕️

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

You’re not sure why you sit with them instead of just being in your room. They’re here for your best friend, not you. You have no business being with them. It feels like you’re in high school all over again, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst them.

Every other night you’re fine with them being here, but tonight you’re out of it. Your eyes keep darting to Satoru and Ali, both sitting so close together that you almost feel upset. Ali is your best friend– She’s been by your side for as long as you can remember. She’s like a sister… Yet you have conflicting feelings.

Whenever you look at her and Satoru together, you feel upset. A feeling that is quickly followed by remorse. You shouldn’t like your best friend’s boyfriend; alas, you can’t control your feelings. Even if you do act on your feelings (you only have a tiny crush either way, it’s no big deal), he wouldn’t reciprocate them. Ali is simply stunning– It’s not that you’re ugly, but your whole life you’ve watched her get praised for her beauty. She simply stands out while you’re just there. Just like this moment.

“Hey, are you okay?” You hear your name from Satoru’s mouth, interrupting you from your trance of thoughts. Ali giggles, whispering something in his ear which makes the man chuckle. You unintentionally roll your eyes before nodding.

“Oh my god, guys. I forgot to tell you.” Ali begins, drawing everyone’s attention. There’s a grin on her face as she says, “It’s mine and Satoru’s third month anniversary.”

“Woah, for a moment I thought that you had something important to say.” Suguru, who sits beside you, comments. Ali clicks her tongue, sticking out her middle finger at the man. Suguru chuckles in response.

“It’s important! Satoru is going to propose soon.” She announces, sticking up her left hand. Satoru’s eyes widen, and he scoots away from her on the couch. Though they’re details that you don’t notice. You’re just staring at Ali’s ring finger, knowing that it’ll be adorned by a rock soon enough. You know she’s very influential, and gets what she wants in the end.

“She’s joking.” Satoru quickly clarifies but you know that it’s only a matter of time before Ali gets her way. In all of your years of knowing Ali, you’ve never seen her get turned down. She isn’t serious now, but she’s dropping hints that she wants it to happen soon; if she doesn’t get her way soon, the relationship will come to an end.

“I guess.” Ali chuckles before kissing Satoru’s cheek. It makes you take a deep breath and look away once again. You make brief eye contact with Shoko before quickly looking away as an uneasiness takes over you. You hear Ali ask, “It won’t hurt to think about it, right?”

“You’re still young, you have a lot of time.” Shoko chimes in, earning a glare from your best friend. That wasn’t the input she needed, therefore, Ali looks at you.

“It wouldn’t.” You force the words out of your mouth. You can barely look at Ali’s face. Throughout the day whenever you look at her you just think of last night. You left your room to get some water and heard a rather obscene scene. You are rightfully uncomfortable… But you’re also sad.

You know you have no right to feel sad about this, but you can’t help the feeling. Every time you look at her you just can hear her moan his name over and over again while he groans from pleasure. You froze in place, and heard more than you had to last night. You felt sick, and that memory replaying in your head doesn’t help you.

Your breath hitches as you hear all of them laugh. You look around the room, feeling as if it gets smaller by the second. You can’t stand it. You stand up from the couch, and awkwardly smile. You look back and forth between your best friend and her boyfriend before you tell them,

“I’m going to lay down. I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

No one says anything, letting you leave the room without a protest. It’s not like you fit in the group either way. You feel like absolute shit, but it’s not their fault. Your personality just doesn’t match with theirs, and that’s not on them.

You lock yourself in your room and immediately bury your head in a pillow, letting the tears flow. An overwhelming flux of emotions flows through you. You like to think of yourself as confident, brave, and strong but right now you’re simply the worst.

You shouldn’t like your best friend’s boyfriend and you shouldn’t be upset at the fact that you heard them have sex the night before. Ali’s been with you through thick and thin, and this is how you’re repaying her.

Meanwhile, Satoru is staring at your bedroom door before looking back at Ali. He asks, “Shouldn’t you check up on her? She’s acting weird tonight.”

“That’s just how she is. She’s always a little weird.” Ali rolls her eyes, and a slight frown comes on Satoru’s face. Maybe he shouldn’t overstep, Ali knows you better than anyone but the comment still feels odd.

“Isn’t that rude? She’s your best friend.” Satoru reminds her, and she clicks her tongue.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Satoru is in his mother’s hospital room, watching as the one that gave birth to him sleeps. Suguru sits down next to him, afraid to make conversation since he doesn’t want to wake the woman up. Suguru is just there for emotional support.

Satoru doesn’t know what happened. He was on his way to visit his girlfriend, and his father suddenly called. His mother was ill, and they were on the way to the hospital. And here he is now… Waiting to talk to her. They’ve been slipping her in and out of the room to run tests on her, and the moments that she’s in the room she can’t stay awake.

Satoru has been spending most of his days at the hospital for the past week. He’s sick of it, but he’s not leaving his mother alone– She wouldn’t be alone either way, his father is also practically living in the hospital, but Satoru still won’t leave. He texts Ali to kill time, though the conversations quickly get boring and he has to frequently change the topic.

“I’m going to get something to eat.” Suguru says, standing up from his seat. He’s been glancing at Satoru’s phone, snooping in a conversation that doesn’t concern him whatsoever. A conversation that’s too boring for him to keep reading, which is a lot to say.

“I’ll come with.” Satoru stands up as well, following Suguru’s lead. Satoru cracks his knuckles as they leave the room, commenting, “I’m so bored in there.”

“I saw you talking to Ali–” Suguru quickly bites his tongue when he realizes that he’s admitted to snooping. He can’t shut up now, he’s already admitted to his crime, he might as well say what’s on his mind. Suguru throws his arm over Satoru’s shoulder, slightly leaning on him as they walk to the elevator. “She’s pretty, bro. I’ll give you that but… She’s kind of superficial.”

“Why are you staring at my phone?” Satoru side-eyes his best friend, and Suguru shrugs. Satoru rolls his eyes at the lack of response before quickly defending his girlfriend. “You know she’s better in person.”

“She’s not. She only ever talks about herself, and it’s never something interesting.” Suguru points out, which makes a frown appear on Satoru’s face. That isn’t true at all– At least Satoru hasn’t noticed and he’s quick to pick up on stuff. Suguru continues trying to get his point across, “And I know she has… What, two million followers on Instagram? Like yeah, she’s pretty but apart from that she has nothing.”

“She has other qualities.” Satoru says as they both get to the elevator. He presses on the downwards arrow button, and they begin the long wait for either elevator.

“Like what? Please name one.” Suguru responds, and Satoru takes a minute to think about it. The elevator opens, and the men step aside to let the people out before entering the lift. The conversation dies down at that moment since it’s awkward to talk about Ali’s lack of personality when three other people surround them.

When they get to the first floor, Suguru brings up the topic again. Satoru’s annoyed, unwilling to listen at this point, and it’s written all over his face but Suguru does not care, “You deserve better. She’s not the type you’d want to marry.”

“How would you even know that?” Satoru scoffs, and Suguru rolls his eyes. Suguru knows that Satoru isn’t going to actually listen. Satoru is defensive about this, and Suguru can’t entirely blame him. Ali is still his girlfriend regardless, Suguru knows that he’d react the same way if Satoru began to bad talk Shoko.

“She treats her best friend like shit. She treats someone that she’s known her whole life like shit, and you think that’s the woman you should marry?” Suguru answers, which makes Satoru roll his eyes.

“Let’s just drop it.” Satoru ends up saying, and Suguru sighs defeatedly.

“Yeah. Let’s just eat something.” Suguru agrees. He checks the time and realizes he has to get going soon, “I’m leaving you after, I’m going to see Shoko.”

After Suguru leaves, Satoru is left to go back upstairs alone. He doesn’t mind the solitude, it’s not like he was talking to Suguru either way. He’ll probably ponder on Suguru’s words, and try to make an excuse for his girlfriend. Though if Satoru is being honest… He doubts the relationship is going to last long. He’s turned a one night stand into a regular thing– But maybe there’s a future in the relationship. He likes to be optimistic about things, even if it’s a relationship that doesn’t have much of a future.

“Satoru!” He’s met by a voice that catches him off guard. He’s a little surprised to be met by his girlfriend, but a smile comes to his face as he sees her face. Though the smile fades when he looks over her outfit.

Satoru isn’t one to police what his girlfriend wears. He’s fine with whatever that makes her happy. He’s not the type to get jealous or control that aspect of her life… But he recognizes when an outfit is inappropriate for an occasion.

She wears a red cut out dress, as if she’s about to go out clubbing. She smiles brightly at him, and Satoru can’t help but feel bad. She’s a little ditzy sometimes. She doesn’t mean any harm.

“What are you doing here?” Satoru sounds rather awkward, something that she doesn’t seem to notice. Satoru would be more welcoming if she looked a little more decent for the place.

“I just want to visit my mother-in-law.” She says which makes Satoru cringe. He won’t correct her, he knows she’s just joking. He thinks she’s just joking. She gives him a tight hug, something that a few minutes ago he thought would be comforting; it’s anything but… But it’s not her fault.

“She’s sleeping.” Satoru answers as he pulls away. Ali pouts, mimicking a sad expression. It feels like she’s mimicking considering how she exaggerates it. No– Satoru is just overthinking everything after his conversation with Suguru. The dumbass was trying to brainwash Satoru.

“Do you want to go out to dinner then?” She asks, as if it’s the only reason why she’s here. Satoru shakes his head which makes a slight frown appear on the woman’s face.

“I already ate something at the cafeteria.” Satoru responds.

“I’ll go get something then. I’m hungry.” She replies, and Satoru tries not to question it. Did she come here for the sole purpose of stealing Satoru’s attention? No, he’s just letting Suguru get to his head. Though he’d admit that it’s odd for her to show up at the hospital and immediately ask him out to eat.

She bites down her lip before asking Satoru, “Do you want to come with?”

“I’m going to my mom’s room. You can come back after you’re finished.” Satoru answers, and she rolls her eyes. Satoru is going to pretend like he didn’t catch that weird reaction. It’s just his mind playing tricks on him. She leaves without a word, letting Satoru walk back to his mother’s room to wait by her side.

Satoru is sure he’s just reading into things as he sits down besides his mother once again. Stupid Suguru got in his head. The idiot has a way to mess with Satoru, it works ninety percent of the time. Though Satoru knows that he can’t entirely blame Suguru since the man just mentioned certain behaviors that Satoru himself noticed. Ali is quite a bitch with you, and if Satoru were anyone else, he’d give you the advice to cut her off.

Perhaps you’re just sticking around because you’re roommates with Ali. He doesn’t know the extent of your relationship either, he’s barely even scratched the surface so it’s not a matter that he has an opinion on. Ali is rising to fame as an influencer, and she’s letting the attention get to her head so maybe this is just some new behavior on her end.

Satoru begins to question every little thing about Ali in the span of thirty minutes. Maybe she really is superficial like Suguru claims– Who is Satoru even trying to convince? Ali is most definitely superficial, he’s known about this since their very first date.

He grabs his phone to distract himself, he’s currently questioning his relationship because of Suguru’s dumb words. He can’t let the little shit get to his head, Suguru loves to do this every time Satoru has a girlfriend and it always ends up with Satoru breaking up with his girl.

Satoru’s eyes narrow as he sees a new story from Ali. His thumb hovers over the screen as the man builds up the courage to click on it. She’s posing seductively for the camera, and Satoru sighs as he sees the story from a couple of minutes ago. Maybe it’s just a video from a couple of weeks ago; she’s just posting content to keep her followers engaged.

Satoru taps on the screen, seeing she’s posted multiple things in the last thirty minutes. Before getting to the hospital and while she’s clearly in the building. Just five minutes ago she posted a mirror selfie in the hospital bathroom, and Satoru can’t help but frown. She’s a bit ditzy but she can’t be this unaware, right?

It clicks in his head at that moment. Suguru isn’t trying to brainwash him, he’s just pointing out what’s fairly obvious. Ali isn’t here to actually check up on Satoru’s mom, she’s here for another reason. She just wants Satoru’s attention.

He stands up from his chair and walks out of the room. He can’t sit there knowing she’s making a fool out of herself, and in the process, embarrassing him. He has to talk to her, ask for her to leave before she makes a complete and utter fool out of him as well.

Satoru gets to the cafeteria quickly, his eyes searching around the place for his girlfriend. Luckily, he doesn’t have to look for too long before his eyes land on her as she poses for a photo. She’s treating the hospital cafeteria as a photo studio, he can’t look at her for too long without embarrassment filling him inside. His eyes don’t wander too far before landing on an all too familiar face.

Satoru’s breath hitches, gulping as he stares back at his father. His father’s eyes then fall on Ali. Satoru just should turn around and not acknowledge her at all– If the situation is embarrassing now, he can only imagine it’s ten times worse if his father finds out that this oblivious woman is Satoru’s girlfriend.

“Pookie! Come here!” Ali yells once her eyes fall on Satoru, making it loud enough for everyone to hear. Satoru can still turn around and pretend like he doesn’t know her, especially since he sees his father’s brow furrows. Yeah… It’s best if Satoru turns around and apologizes later.

“Satoru! Are you ignoring me?!” She calls out as she walks over to the man. Satoru freezes in his spot, making eye contact with his father who shakes his head disappointedly.

“Allison, now it’s not the time.” Satoru says through gritted teeth, not being able to even look at her.

“What? What are you saying?” She sounds offended, and frankly, she should be. Satoru looks ashamed to be near her because he is. He feels all eyes on him since Ali isn’t exactly someone that blends into the crowd. Is this what it feels to be self-conscious?

Satoru grabs her hand and practically drags her out of the place. She posters him, demanding he tell her what’s going on the entire time until they’re finally outside of the building. Satoru lets go and she crosses her arms, huffing and puffing as Satoru runs a hand through his hair.

He can’t lose his cool.

“Why are you here?” He asks, taking a deep breath to ensure he remains calm and collected.

“I told you–” She begins only to be quickly interrupted by Satoru.

“Why are you actually here? Actually. First of all you come here looking like– That. You tell me you want to see my mother but immediately ask me to go out and get something together. Instead of coming back up you begin to smugly post on your social media,” Satoru is too frustrated to care about the words that leave his lips. “You’re posting for your millions of followers while you’re in a hospital. You’re supposed to be visiting my mother and you look like this.”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” She’s trying to play dumb, looking down at the attire that is clearly inappropriate for the occasion. She’s ignoring everything else, knowing that she can easily win the argument if she only focuses on one detail.

“For fuck’s sake, Allison. This is a hospital not a club. You’re here to visit my sick mother, or what? Did you have other plans tonight?” Satoru argues and she scoffs.

“Excuse me for trying to be a good girlfriend. For the record, I do want to check up on my future mother-in-law. Next time I’ll just leave you alone.” She tries to sound threatening which makes Satoru roll his eyes. Before he can get another word in, she begins to walk away. She’s not going back inside, opting to walk to her car instead.

Satoru doesn’t care to stop her, instead he’s agreeing with everything Suguru mentioned. Maybe he should reconsider everything about this relationship. But first… He has to go back inside and face his father.

As Ali and Satoru’s six month mark comes by, you notice that Satoru comes around less often. Satoru, who would come around every few days, barely shows up every two weeks. You think it started after Ali began to joke about getting engaged, but you know why Satoru is distant. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.

You remember catching her before going out, telling you that she’s about to go meet Satoru at the hospital– Before you could even question her outfit she told you that she was hoping he’d take her out to eat. It’s shocking that he didn’t break up with her right then and there, but you guess that he likes her so much that he can’t bring himself to end things.

Though as you walk past her bedroom, you hear that some things don’t change. No matter how bad she screws things up, this detail will never change. They could be a little less loud though, they’re not alone. Or they could simply go to Satoru’s apartment since he lives alone. But no, they choose to come here.

You should probably cover your ears as you walk to the kitchen to get some water, but you’re unphased by this. It’s not the first time it happens, and it certainly won’t be the last. You won’t lie and say that you aren’t uncomfortable by the sound of it, and perhaps you’re searching for an apartment to move away soon because of how upsetting it is. But you’re slowly getting used to it.

“Oh, fuck! It’s so good!” She moans and you let out a sigh. She has no consideration for you. It’s fine, you’ll go back to your room and put on some headphones to block it out. But you freeze in your steps when you hear a voice that is not the one of her boyfriend.

You feel as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest as you come to the realization– But no, you’re not going to get involved. You grab your glass of water and walk back to your bedroom, locking the door.

You plop down on the bed, grabbing your phone to check on your social media. You have a feeling that Ali isn’t there with Satoru, and you want to check what he’s doing tonight. Satoru usually posts what he’s doing for the night in the most subtle ways. If he hasn’t posted anything, then he’s probably with Ali and you should ignore the whole situation; but you’re quickly proven right when you see Satoru posting with Suguru.

The pictures could be from a different night though, but you notice that they were posted just a few minutes ago. Your eyes are wide, hands shaky as you stare at the picture. Regardless if they’re from nights ago or tonight, Satoru couldn’t have posted this while he’s getting busy with Ali.

You turn off your phone and close your eyes at the realization that your best friend is cheating on her boyfriend.

You try to convince yourself that the previous night is a misunderstanding. You’re just getting the situation wrong, Ali would not do that to her boyfriend. But your best friend quickly proves you wrong when you walk out of your bedroom and see a random man in your kitchen, looking most indecent. He’s covered in love bites, confirming that you weren’t wrong in your assumptions

You almost feel like a prude for covering your eyes when you look in his direction– You would think she would try to hide it the best she could, but she doesn’t care. She’s letting him walk around freely in your apartment, even though you know she’s awake.

“Allison.” You knock on her bedroom door, and within a few seconds she opens it. Her sandy blonde hair is neatly kept, letting you know that she’s been awake for a while. She’s had enough time to get ready so she’s certainly had enough time to kick the random man that’s in your house out.

“Hi…” She bites her lip, looking guilty as ever. Just one swift look at you, and she knows that you’re not happy with her. She grabs your hand and pulls you inside before shutting the door. She doesn’t want her loverboy to hear what she has to say.

“Ali, what did you do?” You’re stern, making it clear that this isn’t a situation that you’re willing to laugh about. Maybe if Satoru deserved it you could turn a blind eye to this, but you can’t. Satoru is a great boyfriend to her.

“I’m sorry.” Tears begin to well up in her eyes as she mutters an apology. An apology that should be to Satoru and not you. “I don’t know what came over me… I told him I loved him and he just– Just ignored me.”

“Ali, that’s no reason to betray your boyfriend.” You argue, and she buries her face between her hands. She cries, only making you feel guilty for even questioning her actions. You cross your arms and look away, refusing to feel guilty for her disloyalty.

“Please don’t tell him– I’m sorry. It’ll never happen again.” She pleads and you feel a heavy weight settle in your heart. No, you should tell him. Satoru doesn’t deserve this.

Ali wraps her arms around you, resting her face on your shoulder as she continues to sob. “Please, you’re the only person I can count on.”

“Ali–” You begin, but you cut yourself off. You take a deep breath, before agreeing, “Fine. I’ll keep your secret.”

Guilt is eating you alive. The very next day, Satoru comes over and you can’t look him in the eye. You ignore him the entire time, and he notices something is up with you, but he won’t question it. If you don’t want to talk to him, then it’s your own issue.

You feel like the responsibility of confessing to him is on your shoulders. But you don’t want to betray your best friend by doing so. She’s made her own decisions about her relationship, if you snitch the blame shouldn’t fall on you… But you still feel like it isn’t your position to tell. You’re not friends with Satoru at all, you’re friends with Ali. You feel like you’d be betraying her, not only because she’s your best friend but also because you happen to like her boyfriend.

You’re nearly driving yourself insane as you think about it. Ultimately, you decide to stay out of it. Satoru is going to find out in his own way eventually; you’re a firm believer that the truth always comes to light eventually, and in this situation you refuse to be the catalyst. And you certainly don’t want to lose your friendship by telling him.

That is until the doorbell rings, a little later than usual on a Tuesday night. Ali isn’t home, leaving you alone to welcome the uninvited guest.

“Satoru, what are you doing here?” You question, surprised at his presence. He should know that Ali is at a brand event right now, after all, she’s gloating about it on any and every social media platform. “Ali isn’t here right now. She won’t be here in a while.”

“Actually, I’m here to talk to you.” He confesses, and you feel your stomach churn. You feel nauseous as guilt takes over you. Does he know? Is that why he’s here? He’s most definitely here to question you, and you feel nervous.

“Oh… What is it?” You try to smile to hide the fact that you’re freaking out. But it comes off as disingenuous, and Satoru is not an idiot that won’t notice it. He’ll choose to ignore it though.

“Can I come in?” He asks, and you move to the side, inviting him to the apartment. He steps inside, and looks around the place. There’s a different vibe to the apartment when Ali is gone… It feels oddly comforting.

“Do you want anything to drink?” You offer as you shut the door. But he shakes his head, and you feel oddly relieved by that answer. He’s not going to be here for a long time, so he’s not going to bring it up.

Before saying anything, he takes a seat on the couch. He looks around the place for another minute, and he notices that you choose to stand instead of taking a seat. You couldn’t make it any more obvious. He clears his throat before speaking up, “Is everything okay between us?”

“Yeah! Yeah, why wouldn’t they be?” You’re stumbling over words, making your statement sound false. He’s quick to spot the lie, and a frown comes to his face. You can’t keep lying to him, you know.

“Why–”

“She’s cheating on you!” You blurt out, and to your surprise, he looks unphased. You feel the need to explain yourself after his lack of reaction, a response from your nerves. “I swore I was going to stay out of it when I heard her with her friend last week– I thought it was you two again but then I realized that it wasn’t you, and I couldn’t look you in the eye after it. I didn’t want to say anything because she’s my friend but you’re a really good guy–”

And as you ramble, you fail to notice that he’s stood up and he’s taken your hands into his. He’s squeezing your hands to make you calm down as you explain your side of the story. You’re not guilty in any of this, you’re just too damn good of a friend.

“Hey, hey. I’m not mad at you.” He cuts you off when he realizes you’re on the verge of tears. If he’s being honest, he was expecting something like this to happen with her. He’s been waiting for the right moment to end things, and luckily he has the best excuse now.

“I should’ve told you sooner, I’m sorry.” You still apologize. You feel your face get warm as you realize he’s holding your hands, making you jerk them out of his grasp. “But please, don’t tell her I told you.”

“I promise I won’t.” He responds. “Thank you so much for telling me.”

“Satoru, please don’t tell her I told you.” You ask of him once again, and he nods in response. And though the weight is lifted off your shoulders, another worry begins to settle in. But you try to convince yourself that you’ll be fine. If this marks the end of your friendship with Ali, then so be it. In the end, you did the right thing.

Satoru messages Ali on a Friday night, making sure that you’re out of the apartment before coming over. The message gets Ali excited since she thinks everything is going back to normal, especially since Satoru has been acting weirder than usual. The honeymoon stage is supposed to last longer than six months, but for some reason their relationship is going through a dry spell.

Ali begins to get ready for what she expects is going to be a steamy night. She checks the time every five minutes, waiting for Satoru to finally show up. While she promised you that she wouldn’t do it again, she’s not the type to keep a promise; especially when her needs aren’t being met.

Meanwhile, Satoru decides how he’s going to break the news… Should he be gentle? He won’t lie and say that he isn’t butthurt about her disloyalty. He’s been thinking about ending things with her for a while, but it hurts his ego to know that she cheated on him. Maybe he should be harsh with her, after all, cheating is not a mistake one should take lightly. And Satoru is certainly mad at the offense.

He’s set on making this as quick and easy as possible, so he’ll be calm with her. He’s grown to not care for her, so being angry will just waste his time. Sure, his ego is hurt but not enough to waste minutes of precious time. He takes a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

“Pookie! I’m so happy that you’re here!” Ali exclaims immediately as she opens the door. She throws her arms over Satoru, hugging him tightly. Satoru does not return the hug, something that she doesn’t seem to notice.

They step inside, and Satoru awkwardly places his hands in his pockets. He’s not unfamiliar with a breakup, but it’s still awkward. Ali walks to the kitchen to get something to drink for him. Something sweet, just how he likes it.

“I’ve been thinking about you so much. I miss you.” She begins, and Satoru thinks about how to lay it on gently. She begins to tell him about a brand trip that she’s been invited to, and all the magnificent details.

“Here.” She smiles brightly at him, handing him something to drink. Satoru hesitantly takes it from her hand, swirling the drink in his hand but not daring to bring it up to his lips. She takes a seat on the couch, waiting for him to join her. Satoru remains standing though. “You’ve been so quiet lately.”

“Yeah…” Satoru sounds awkward, but he knows that she won’t pick up on it. Satoru walks to the kitchen to put the drink on the counter, he’s not thirsty right now.

“Is everything okay?” Ali asks, and Satoru slowly walks back to her. Her eyes keep going back and forth between him and the couch, but Satoru is opting to stand.

“My friend saw you with another guy in a compromising situation.” He finally admits, making her eyes go wide. A simple look at her, and Satoru knows that she’s ready to deny the situation. He has no proof, why is he questioning her loyalty?

“I– I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She begins, immediately giving it away that she’s guilty. She’s as pale as a ghost, something that almost earns a chuckle from Satoru in the very tense situation. He forgets about his hurt ego when he sees her reaction.

“Don’t lie to me. He said everything I need to know, and I trust him.” Satoru changes a certain detail, one that will take away all suspicions that would surround you. She’s taken back by this, and she’s not sure how to respond. She stands up from her seat, taking a step near the man.

“I only did it because you–” She’s getting defensive over her wrongdoings. Sure, she did it but she had a damn good reason– At least that’s what she thinks. “I told you I loved you and you–”

“I can’t tell you I love you when I don’t.” Satoru cuts her off, and her face gets red from embarrassment. She’s still going to hold her head high and defend her actions, even if there’s no good explanation for her decisions. “I was going to end things with you eventually, but what you’ve done is unforgivable. I liked the possibility of us being friends but… I don’t think I can do that either.”

“Satoru, we can talk about this.” Ali begins when she realizes that Satoru won’t care for any reasoning. He’s set on ending things. She’s stepping toward him, and when she’s within reach, she grabs his hands. “We can work things out, let’s not throw everything away–”

“You threw everything away. There’s no way in hell I’d get back with you after you cheated.” He interrupts her once again. It’s just like Suguru said, she’s very superficial. “You told me you loved me, yet you went with the first guy you could find because I needed some time. What does that say about your character or your feelings toward me? Do you even care about me?”

“I do! I was just– Feeling so low. I was tipsy and made a mistake.” She tries to explain her side, and Satoru takes his hands from her grasp. He doesn’t want to spend another minute here to hear stupid excuses for horrible actions– Horrible actions that hurt his ego but he doesn’t care about as much as he should. He was over with the relationship for a while now.

“I don’t care for a reason. This is over.” Satoru says, taking a step backwards. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be. We’re both mature enough to not make this a bigger deal than it has to be.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but Satoru walks away before she can get a word out. He doesn’t care enough to hear what she has in mind, so she’s forced to swallow her words.

You’ve never seen Ali as devastated as she is now. She’s crying on your shoulder, telling you how much she regrets her actions. It’s good to hear that she’s learned from her mistakes, but you feel extremely guilty knowing that your best friend is heartbroken because you couldn’t keep a secret. Deep down, you know you did the right thing but still feel bad while your best friend is sobbing over her now ex-boyfriend.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do– He was so perfect.” She sobs, and you hear your heart breaking. You should’ve just bit your tongue about it.

You have conflicting feelings for Satoru, but you were rooting for them. You’d never wish harm on your best friend, and you didn’t tell him with the hopes that they’d break up. Cheating isn’t something that you can keep quiet about, even if it’s a mistake from your best friend.

“You’ll be okay, Ali. He wasn’t worth it.” You embrace her, hand rubbing her back to soothe her. You don’t believe the words leave your lips, but you’ll say just about anything to comfort her. You know her, she’s more upset about the fact that she got dumped than her so-called love for Satoru.

“You’re such a liar! He was perfect!” She cries, and you can’t argue with it. You’re at a loss of words– What’s the next step that you should take? You can’t reprimand her and remind her that these are the consequences of her actions. “He’s blocked me everywhere. I’ve been trying to message him on social media but I can’t find his accounts.”

“Maybe you should let this go. There’s no way to go back from this.” You try to tell her, but your words fall on deaf ears. You know her, she’s not listening to anything she doesn’t want to hear. Ali wants something, and she’ll get it no matter the cost.

She’s looking up at you with glossy eyes, desperate to get what she wants. You know the look in her eyes. She’s determined to get back with him, and she needs your help. Before she can mutter something out, you speak, “No. I’m not getting involved.”

“Please– Please, please, please. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She pleads, putting her hands together to beg. You look away, not willing to fall for her trap. You feel the guilt of telling Satoru, slowly eat you alive; you know you did the right thing, but why do you feel so bad?

“There’s plenty of fish in the sea, and you’re a pretty girl. He’s not all that.” You answer, once again not believing a single word you say. You have to make her drop this absurd idea of getting back with Satoru though, and you’re willing to make up any lie.

She takes her head off your shoulder, dramatically crossing her arms and pouting like a child. You let out a sigh, knowing that this stupid idea of getting back with Satoru is not getting dropped any time soon.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like him.” She murmurs, and you feel your face get hot. You don’t say anything because you’d surely give away your feelings by uttering a single word.

“We’ll talk again when you grow up.” You stand up from the couch, planning to leave her behind to sort out her intense emotions. But just as you’re about to walk away, she speaks up,

“Please, do this one thing for me and then I’ll leave you alone.” And you look back at her, the desperation in her eyes getting to you. She’s in this position because of you. The least you can do is help her out.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips before you mutter out, “Fine.”

Ali has an insane power over you, and it’s clear when she strings you along in her ridiculous plan. Though there is no plan, she just wants you to show up at Satoru’s place and beg. She can’t show up anymore since he threatened her with a restraining order (thinking about it, you’re not sure why you agreed to come), so she pushed you to show up.

Though you aren’t exactly doing what she wants you to do.

You texted Satoru in the morning, asking him if you could meet up to talk. Surprisingly, he agreed. You have no idea how to proceed though. How will you even bring up the topic without getting completely turned down?

Your mind is racing to find the answer as you sit down outside the café. You’re bouncing your leg, feeling your nerves rise as you wait for Satoru’s arrival. Ali is inside, trying to hide as her stupid plan unravels. You’re like her puppet, and you fail to notice.

“Hi.” You’re startled by a welcoming voice. You look up to find Satoru with a subtle smile on his face. You stand up to greet him, though he assures you it isn’t necessary.

His eyes look you up and down, and your face gets hot at the mere thought that he’s checking you out– No, it’s absurd. He wouldn’t be into you in any way. Ali is his type, and you’re nothing like her.

“I’m going in. Do you want anything? I heard you also like sweet stuff.” Satoru offers, and you’re about to shake your head since you don’t want Satoru spending a single cent on you; but then you remember Ali is also inside.

“I’ll get it, what do you want?” You quickly ask and he raises a brow.

“It’s fine, I need to walk a little more before stuffing my face.” He replies, and you insist. He lets out a chuckle at your insistence before telling you, “I’ll ignore Allison, you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Oh– You know about that.” You awkwardly respond, and Satoru nods.

“You don’t think I’m dumb enough to not know, right? You’re too good to her, you wouldn’t reach out even though–” He cuts himself off before finishing his sentence. He doesn’t want to embarrass you. “I know you’re here for her.”

“Then why did you come?” You question, earning a shrug for him. Before you can pressure him to give you a proper answer, he walks inside the café to get himself a treat. You take a seat once again, and instead of focusing on your initial goal, your mind fills up with questions.

He’s not here because he likes you… Right? No. Absolutely not. You quickly shake that thought out of your head. It’s not that you’re not beautiful, but compared to Ali you’re nothing. Your whole life you’ve always come second to her, and this situation is no different. Even if Satoru were to make a move on you, it’d be to get some sort of revenge on Ali.

As your mind races and goes through every possible scenario, Satoru comes back with a coffee and two treats. He places a delicious dessert in front of you before sitting down across from you. Your eyes get big at the sight of the sweet dish, your mouth salivating. It sure manages to push away any and all thoughts that were flooding your brain.

“What is this?” You ask, and he looks like he’s fighting back a smile.

“Just thought you might like it.” He acts unbothered. You lick your lips, about to taste the dessert but you end up holding back. You simply watch him sip on his beverage. You’re reminded that you’re here to help Ali out.

“How have you been holding up? Has the breakup been hitting you hard?” You ask, though you know the question is useless. Satoru has never looked better. A great weight has been lifted off his shoulders, and it’s noticeable.

“Sure, you can say that.” He chuckles, taking the question as a joke. “Give me your proposal. What is she offering?”

“Apologies.” There’s an unintentional mocking tone in your voice. Satoru’s brows raise as he picks up on it, but he quickly assumes that you don’t do it on purpose. “She really is sorry, Satoru. She regrets her decision, and she really misses you.”

“That’s good to hear.” He says, and before you can say anything, he speaks up again, “I still don’t want anything to do with her. You of all people should know that cheating isn’t the only thing that led to this.”

“Ali is a good person… She’s just out of it sometimes.” You defend her, and Satoru laughs. “She misses you so much, and it hurts to see my best friend in this much pain.”

“You’re too good for her.” He replies, and you hate to hear those words. She’s your best friend, you’re not too good for her– You’re just doing everything that a best friend should be doing.

“I’m doing what I should be doing. She loves you, Satoru.” You point out, and he scoffs. She told him that she loves him, but that’s hard to believe. Satoru’s gotten to know Ali, and he knows that she has a certain way with words. She’s not very convincing to Satoru though.

“Why should you be involved in this? You’re a great friend, but she’s not one. If she was, she wouldn’t get you involved in this.” Satoru responds, and you sigh. You don’t want to begin that conversation, mainly because you know there’s some truth to his words.

“I should get involved because she’s suffering.” You argue, and Satoru wants to laugh. Suffering, right. She’s too self-absorbed to care about someone else.

“Can’t she just get a new boyfriend? Why does it have to be me?” He asks, and you furrow your brows.

“What do you mean? Who else would it be?” You question. “You can’t easily fall in and out of love.”

“She’s not in love with me though. She just likes attention and expensive things, something a lot of other men can offer.” Satoru points out, making you bite your lip. He’s not entirely wrong but you still choose to defend your best friend.

“She does love you, Satoru. She’s been crying to me about this for so long. She misses you.” You defend her, and Satoru clicks his tongue.

“Will you taste the dessert I got you? I want to see if you like it.” Satoru tries to change the topic, and you puff out a breath. It’s not going to kill you to taste it, and you’ll quickly go back to the subject.

You take a small bite, and your eyes light up as you begin to savor the food in front of you. Satoru is watching your every move, finding your expression amusing. For the second, you completely forget why you’re here.

“Is it good?” Satoru asks, and you excitedly nod your head. It’s good to know that he made the right decision. He watches you take another bite before standing up. The topic of Ali is tired, and he knows that it’s the only type of conversation he’ll get from you today. He knew that the whole reason you asked him to meet up was to talk about Ali, but he doesn’t regret coming.

“Where are you going?” You sound funny, your mouth full of food as Satoru grabs his drink. It’s obvious he’s leaving, but you ask with the slight hope that you’re wrong.

“For the record, I came here because it’s always nice to talk to you.” Satoru tells you, and you raise your eyebrows in confusion. He clears his throat before pointing inside, “We can meet up again soon, just not with her around.”

“Wait–! We’re not done here.” You try to stop him but Satoru turns his back to you and begins to walk away.

Unluckily for Ali, you’re not running after him to talk. He’s made his decision and you aren’t willing to interfere in their relationship anymore. And unluckily for you, you know that Ali won’t accept the decision and continue to press you about the matter.

Satoru furrows his eyebrows as he sees the long line of the shop. He thought that showing up early would reduce the amount of people in the place, but he’s been proven wrong. He can’t help but sigh, knowing that he’ll spend at least twenty minutes waiting just to get a treat. But all the time in line is worth it.

Satoru looks around the place, hoping that he’ll find something– Even if he stands so far away that he can’t make out anything he sees. He freezes when he sees a familiar head of curly brown hair, way ahead in line. He chews on the inside of his cheek for a moment before stepping forward.

“Which one should I get?” You mutter yourself, mouth watering as your eyes scan all the desserts behind the glass.

“The macaroons look good.” You’re startled by an all too familiar voice. You put your hand over your heart, feeling as if it’s about to beat out of your chest as you look at him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him, as if it’s impossible for you to end up in the same place. You know he has a sweet tooth as well, it shouldn’t be a surprise to find him here. You look back, and see the long line behind you. “Oh, you’re using me to cut line, I see.”

“Can’t you believe I just wanted to greet you?” Satoru responds, and you chuckle.

“It’s fine. You can use me.” You respond, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. It’s weird to talk to him without using Ali as an excuse. “I’ve been waiting for a while, it’s fine.”

“Did you just get off work?” Satoru asks and you nod. “What do you do? I’m sorry I never–”

“Hurry up! We’re waiting!” Someone cuts off the conversation, and you feel your face get warm from embarrassment. Satoru glares back at them, as if he has the right. He did cut the line, but he doesn’t care.

“I’ll take two of those.” You tell the worker behind the counter. You don’t even look at the food that you’re pointing at, you just want to get out of line. “Pick what you want.”

His order is more intricate than yours. It’s clear that he would’ve waited an hour if he had to.

“I’ll pay.” He insists when you get to the register, and you want to argue with him that you got yourself covered. But he pays before you can even open your mouth.

“Thank you.” You’re forced to thank him when you exit the store. You expect to go your separate ways, after leaving the place but Satoru offers,

“How about we take a seat? I want to talk to you.”

“Oh– Yeah.” You respond. You bite down your lip before telling him, “I’m a tech analyst, by the way.”

“Huh– Oh, yeah.” Satoru replies. He stares at your face for a moment before letting out a low laugh. “I would’ve never guessed.”

“Well now you know.”

Ali calms down a couple of months after her breakup with Satoru. She certainly leaves you alone about the matter which you’re grateful for. You’re more than willing to help your best friend with any issue, but her relationship with Satoru is a mess you’d rather stay out of.

Knowing Ali, she’s certainly not given up on Satoru. She’s just leaving you out of the mess, and by doing so, she’s completely forgotten about you. Even though you miss your friend, you certainly don’t mind not being involved in her romantic issues.

You know that she’s looking for ways to get close to Satoru again, not knowing that using you again would actually offer some sort of result this time around. But you wouldn’t dare tell her.

It wasn’t something you planned out, it just happened. Your shared love for sweets led you to the same shop in town– And you keep meeting up by chance. There aren't many shops in the area like that one. Sure, you can buy a dessert anywhere, but you won’t find the variety and quality anywhere else in town; it’s what attracts you two to the same place.

You met a handful of times by chance, and each time you began to talk. Conversation flowed smoothly each time, which led you to talk more on the phone. Now you’re texting to meet up, agreeing to grab a sweet treat at least once a week. You slightly feel guilty for meeting him behind Ali’s back, but you know that you aren’t doing anything wrong.

You’re simply friends with Satoru. Everything is completely platonic.

“I got this for you.” Satoru puts down a little box on the table, sliding it over to you. Your eyes narrow as you try to decipher what’s in the box. You wonder what he’s picked for you. While you’ve gotten close, you doubt that he’s really noticed your preferences in sweets.

“You didn’t have to, thank you.” You immediately respond, opening the box to find your favorite dessert. Your eyes widen, a smile coming to your face as you realize that he’s noticed what your favorite kind of treat is. It’s sweet to know that he’s noticed. “I really appreciate it, Satoru.”

“It was no problem.” He smiles back at you. He’s always buying something for you, making you feel special in a way that he’d never guess. You almost feel guilty for never getting him something in return.

“Do you want a bit?” You offer, but he quickly shakes his head. He got it for you because he knows that you like it, but he isn’t particularly fond of the dessert that he got you. You look delighted with his response, making Satoru scoff.

“You do know the place has more, right? It wouldn’t kill you to share either.” He says, and you stick your tongue out at him jokingly. “You can enjoy your yucky dessert alone, don’t worry.”

“Yucky? Really?” You respond and he hums in response. “You sound like a child.”

“I can’t find a more fitting word.” He replies which makes you giggle. He can criticize the food all he wants, as long as you don’t have to share. Satoru clears his throat before speaking up again, “You know, I was thinking–”

“This is so good.” You unintentionally cut him off as you taste what he got you. You swear you’re in heaven with the first taste. You don’t understand how Satoru doesn’t like it, but it’s fine, you’re happy as long as you don’t have to share. Satoru chuckles at your reaction.

“I really don’t understand why you like it so much. There’s so many other options.” He says, but you don’t pay much attention to what he has to say. And just like that, the courage for what he was going to say is completely gone. “But if it makes you happy.”

“You know something? You’re actually a really picky eater. I never figured you as the type.” You tell him, and Satoru clicks his tongue. You aren’t wrong though. “I did cut you off, didn’t I? What were you going to say?”

“Nothing.” He shakes his head, dismissing the topic. You furrow your brows, getting curious as to what you interrupted.

“Are you sure?” You question and he nods in response. The reason you’re here today is because Satoru texted you that he wanted to talk about something. You seriously doubt that the reason he’s here is to simply give you a free dessert. “I don’t buy it.”

“You’re right.” He sighs. He bites his lip, fidgeting his fingers. He’s feeling nervous, something that rarely comes to him. Satoru has the right to feel confident in every situation– But he’s not sure how to approach this considering the weird dynamic that you have. He finally spits out, “How about we go on a date? Would you like that?”

“Satoru–” You’re caught speechless. You slowly blink, feeling as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest. Did you hear that right? You begin to laugh, as if Satoru just told you some sort of joke. “You got me.”

“I’m not joking.” Satoru almost sounds offended by your response.

“I– I can’t, Satoru.” You answer, feeling dirty for even saying that. You like him– It’s no longer a stupid crush anymore. After spending time with him, and getting to know him better, you’ve realized that you like him as a person. You’re not just attracted to him. You can picture a future with him, although you shouldn’t.

“Why?” He asks. He knows you like him, he’s known for a long time. It’s clear that you two have chemistry. You didn’t just say no, you specifically told him that you can’t. “If it’s about Ali–”

“I’m sorry.” You stand up. You walk away, leaving your dessert half eaten.

“Should’ve known.” Satoru mutters, quickly followed by a sigh. It’s clear that you like him, but your loyalty towards Ali is stronger.

“Hey… What are you doing here?” Satoru opens the door, only to find you completely distressed. It’s almost midnight, so he’s shocked to find you at his door. You look distressed– It’s clear to him that you’ve just woken up, given that you’re wearing your glasses instead of your usual contacts. “If it’s about earlier–”

“We have to talk.” You cut him off, and Satoru moves to the side to let you in. You take a deep breath before stepping into his apartment. You awkwardly look around the place, wondering why you’re here. You’re listening to your heart instead of your brain, you should turn around and go back to your best friend.

“What do you want to say?” He asks, shutting the door behind him. He steps near you, and you feel your breath get caught up in your chest.

“I was thinking about it… I do like you, Satoru.” You confess, something that isn’t news to Satoru. He’s known for a while. It was clear that you were trying to hide it, so it wasn’t something that concerned him while he was with Ali.

You sigh, “But Ali’s been my friend since childhood. She loves you. I can’t do this to her.”

“Please…” Satoru grabs your hand, putting it over his beating heart. You feel your face get warm, looking up at him to make eye contact. “You shouldn’t be unhappy for her.”

“We make great friends, Satoru. I can’t hurt her like this.” You tell him, hating yourself for the words that leave your mouth. If you were anyone else, you’d jump at the opportunity to be with him, but you can’t do that to your best friend. “I came here to tell you that. I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“You know that we’d go really great together.” He tries to convince you, and you know he isn’t wrong. You look into his adoring eyes, feeling your heart skip a beat. “You can’t base your decisions on her feelings.”

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.

“I’m sorry.” You mutter as your hands go to the back of his neck, bringing him down to meet your lips. You’re not apologizing to him, that part is clear to him when your soft lips meet his. You’re listening to your heart and not your mind for once. Though it swells with guilt, the feeling is overshadowed.

Satoru shuts his eyes, giving in to the soft feeling of your lips against his. You pull away, your gaze meeting his adoring eyes for a moment. You shouldn’t, yet your lips meet again. It starts sweet, but his wandering hands escalate things. Your tongue enters his mouth as his hands land on your ass.

You feel as if your body is burning up as your tongue presses against his. You need him in every explicable way. Your body needs more. Satoru picks you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He carries you to his bedroom, gently putting you down on his bed. Are things going too fast? Or has this been brewing up for a while? Either way, things aren’t stopping now.

He pulls away, taking off your glasses and putting them down on his nightstand before focusing all his attention on you. He cups your face and lovingly kisses you as your fingers trace down his body and stop at his sweatpants.

You escalate things by pulling down his sweatpants, unable to waste any more time. You pull away from the kiss. You look up at him with dark, lust-filled eyes. As he pulls away, you push down his underwear.

You shouldn’t be surprised by his size, but he’s bigger than average. Your hand wraps around the base and you give it a couple of strokes before your tongue circles around the tip. You start off slow and unsure, but quickly become confident as you hear a soft moan leave Satoru’s lips.

You lick his length before fully wrapping your mouth around it, taking as much as you can get.

You bob your head slowly, starting off slow. It’s not how he usually likes to start off things, but right now he swears he’s in heaven with how your mouth feels around his cock. It feels so perfect around him.

Your bobs begin to pick up a bit of speed, and he bites down his lip. He doesn’t want to embarrass himself by being too loud, even if it is because you’re making him feel good. He stares down at you, watching as you suck him off with no problem, looking so perfect while you’re preoccupied. He sighs, relieved.

You look up at him, wanting his approval. He’s a little too caught up in his own feelings, too engrossed with how your mouth feels around him. He can’t form a sentence to praise you on how good you’re doing.

He grabs the back of your head and pushes your head so you gag on his cock. As gentle as he wants to be with you, he can’t hold back for too long. You’re gagging on his dick, tears filling up your eyes and quickly spilling as he makes you take every inch of his dick in your mouth.

“Fuck– Fuck-” He moans, watching as a couple of tears leave your eyes. It should be a sin for someone to look so pretty as they begin to cry. He finally lets go of you, allowing you to retake control of the narrative. “Your mouth is too perfect.”

You take his dick out of your mouth, stroking it a couple of times before wrapping your mouth around it again. Satoru’s breath gets caught up in his throat as his release nears.

He shuts his eyes, throwing his head back, groaning in pleasure as his come hits the back of your throat. You take his cock out of your mouth and before you can say a word, his lips land on yours again.

Satoru wastes no time in getting you undressed. He makes sure to praise every inch of your body, kissing every corner. He wants you to know just how much he likes you, and how attractive he finds you. There is no better way to tell you than just by kissing every inch of your body.

“Get on all fours.” He tells you, and you waste no time. Satoru takes a moment to look at your pretty pussy before spitting on it a couple of times.

Satoru aligns his cock with the entrance of your pussy, running the tip through your folds and teasing you. Satoru slowly pushes himself inside of you, and you feel your eyes roll to the back of your head. You loudly moan as his thick cock stretches you out.

Satoru’s hands go to your hips, searching for balance before he begins to move. The man can’t help but loudly moan as he feels your tight pussy wrap around him. You’re so perfect, it’s going to drive him insane. He hasn’t properly tasted you yet but he’s surely to get obsessed.

“It’s so good!” You moan, his cock filling you up just right. You hate to admit that you’ve thought about this moment so many times, but you never imagined it’d be this good. It’s hard to feel guilty when your body feels this amazing.

Your back arches as your head presses against the mattress, muffling any noise that comes from your mouth. Satoru slaps your ass as his eyes watch it jiggle with his every movement. He can’t keep his eyes off it.

“You’re so tight.” Satoru tells you through gritted teeth. He holds back on moaning, not wanting to sound too pathetic as he fucks you. It’s hard when your cunt is so nice and tight around him though.

“It’s so good, daddy.” You moan, stumbling over your words. Satoru can die and go to heaven when he hears you call him daddy. Everything you do is so perfect, he can’t believe he’s waited so long to pursue you.

One of your hands goes under and you begin to play with your clit, making you squeeze around his cock. He moans your name out of pure pleasure. He’s surely going to be thinking about this for days on end. He’s never felt like this with anyone else.

“Daddy, it’s so good!” You stop playing with your clit, your hands gripping the silk sheets underneath as your orgasm takes over your body.

“Good girl. You’re doing so good.” Satoru breathlessly praises you, knowing that he won’t last much longer. He isn’t alone though. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, orgasm rapidly approaching.

Your body finally spasms, reaching your peak. Satoru slaps your ass a couple of times, praising you for being so good and so perfect for finishing around his cock. He keeps telling you how perfect you are, moaning your name. He’s making you feel like a goddess.

Satoru’s thrusts become unregulated. It’s hard for him to contain himself, but he doesn’t want this moment to end. He doesn’t want you to come to your senses yet. He wants to stay like this for a while. Alas, he can’t hold himself back forever.

He pulls his cock out, coating your ass with his cum. He swears he hasn’t seen a prettier sight– Apart from your face, of course. But your ass being coated with his cum is a close second.

“That was–” Satoru plops down on the bed beside you, as you lay on your stomach. He’s out of breath, and needs a moment. “Amazing.”

“Yeah.” You chuckle, staring at him as he looks at the ceiling.

Maybe you’ll regret it in the morning, but not right now. Right now, you feel euphoric.

Your hand goes to his face, thumb caressing his cheek. He looks back at you so lovingly, and your heart skips a beat.

“We’re not done yet.” You tell him, and a smile comes to Satoru’s face.

He couldn’t agree more.

The sunlight peeks into the room, causing you to open your eyes first thing in the morning. You slowly take in your surroundings, realizing that you’re not back at your place. You feel a heavy arm over your body, cuddling you. It takes you a minute to remember the events of last night before you quickly sit up on the bed.

You feel your face get hot, embarrassment quickly flowing through you. Quickly followed by regret. No, you shouldn’t be here. You do like him, otherwise you wouldn’t have shown up last night… But doing this to your own best friend? You don’t know how you could ever face her again after this.

“Go back to sleep.” A sleepy Satoru mutters, and as much as your sore body wants to lay back down, you can’t. You’re pulling the bed sheets off your body and searching for your scattered clothes. Satoru ends up fully waking up when he realizes what you’re doing. You’re leaving as if this is a one-night-stand.

“Please don’t ever tell anyone that this happened.” You tell him, grabbing your bra from the floor. Satoru’s eyes focus on your ass– Granted, it’s the worst time to focus on your ass, but it’s hard to ignore when it looks so perfect in front of him. Your next words bring him back to reality, “What happened last night shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” He calls out your name, making you freeze in your spot. You’re hesitant to look back at him, but you end up doing it. “You know you don’t regret it.”

“I– I don’t.” You can’t lie to him. You try to continue to get dressed to get out of the apartment as fast as possible. You’re scared that you’re going to commit another mistake if you stay for too long.

“Why don’t you stay?” Satoru asks, and you can’t give him an answer. He knows why, but he needs you to say it for you to realize how ridiculous you sound. “You shouldn’t put yourself second. Ali made her own mistakes, and you shouldn’t pay for them.”

“She’s my best friend, Satoru. She loves you.” You respond, and Satoru scoffs. It’s too early to deal with this. How many times does he have to tell you that she doesn’t love him for you to drop the subject. “I know that she doesn’t deserve another chance with you, but I can’t do this to her.”

“Do what to her? She’s going to move on eventually, and you’re just going to be miserable. You’re passing up on a great relationship for a girl that doesn’t care about you enough.” It’s harsh, but Satoru can’t help but tell you the truth. As painful as it is. If he isn’t harsh with you, you’ll never open your eyes.

“You’re right.” You end up sighing. You take a seat on the bed again, mind heavy with thoughts.

“If you want this to stop now, we can end it now.” He says, reaching over to grab your hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “Just know that we like each other, and there’s actually nothing keeping us apart.”

For a long minute, the room is silent. He’s right, as much as you don’t want to admit it. There’s no reason for you to not be together. Ali won’t react well, but you’re not going to let her dictate your life.

“You’re right.” You respond, and you watch as his face lights up. “But please, let’s keep this a secret for now. Until I figure out what to say to Ali.”

“My lips are sealed.”

There’s something up your sleeve, and Ali can’t help but notice. She doesn’t know when it started, but one day she realized that the place was dirty. Dishes were piling up, the floor needed to be mopped and she didn’t have a single article of clean clothes.

Even when you found out that she cheated on Satoru, you continued to do everything for her, so she wonders if something is wrong with you… The place is filthy, time is running out and she refuses to pick up a single dish. You’ve always taken it as your responsibility to do every chore in the house, you can’t just stop now. What could she have possibly done to upset you this time? She tries to talk to you about the subject, but when she knocks on your door, you’re not home.

That’s not the only thing though. When you do come home, she notices you have some expensive items. Items that you’d never willingly spend money on, she knows that much about you. The signs are all there: you’re seeing someone.

“Hi, babe.” Ali startles you when you get home, a little past midnight. You’re a bit disheveled, making it clear what you were up to. She stayed up for you, waiting for you on the couch, and it makes you feel uneasy.

“Hi, Ali.” You sheepishly smile at her, feeling as if you’ve somehow gotten caught. You cover up your tracks damn well, you know that she has no way of knowing that you’re dating Satoru behind her back. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much.” She responds. You feel your breath get caught up in your chest, waiting for her to say something else. You begin to take small, subtle steps to your room as she makes up her mind. “Are you mad at me?”

“No… Why would I be?” You question, though you know why she asks. She’s worried because you’re barely coming around.

“You’re seeing someone then, right?” She asks, standing up from the couch and stepping towards you. You feel your hands get shaky, nerves taking over you.

“No– Why do you ask?” You slightly stumble over your words, and you hope that she doesn’t notice. You hope that Satoru is right about your best friend when he says that she’s too self absorbed to care about anyone else but herself.

“You’re here late and…” She looks you up and down, judgment written all over her face. “You look like that.”

“I just had a rough day.” You claim, trying to play it off. Much to your dismay, she snatches the purse that you hold in your hands. She closely inspects it, trying to check if it’s authentic. You should’ve known better than to accept Satoru’s very expensive gifts.

“It’s real. You wouldn’t spend this much money on a purse.” She points out, and you get increasingly nervous. You snatch the purse back before answering,

“Is it that hard to believe that I would slowly save up for a purse?”

“Fine.” She rolls her eyes. It’s very clear that you’re seeing someone, but you won’t tell. You’ll come around eventually, she just has to give you the cold shoulder for a while– She’s not too sure if it’ll work this time around.

She dramatically turns away from you and begins to walk to her room, taking small steps to give you time to speak up. But you don’t say anything. On the contrary, you begin to walk to your room as well.

“You’re the worst.” You stick out your tongue at Satoru, getting mad at the 4+ card that he puts down on the deck. You wish you could easily take defeat, but your boyfriend sure loves to brag about his victories. He drives you insane.

“The worst? Why? Because I’m better than you?” Satoru is so smug about it, and you’re filled with rage. You take deep breaths, reminding yourself that this is just a game.

“You suck!” You respond, throwing your cards on the coffee table. Satoru chuckles, watching you stand up and head to the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water, making him follow like a lost puppy.

He engulfs you in a hug, filling up your face with kisses. He mutters baseless apologies for his great luck and strategy for the game. You’re trying to push him away, but he’s too overbearing.

“Hi, guys.” You hear and your blood runs cold as you hear an all too familiar voice. You finally manage to stop Satoru, who looks unphased by Shoko’s voice. You’ve been caught, yet he doesn’t seem to care.

“Jeez, have you heard of knocking?” Satoru finally looks at the woman, who holds up the apartment key.

“I came here to pick something up. Suguru left his jacket here.” She looks around for the item she came for, not really questioning why Satoru was kissing you.

“We– We can explain.” You begin, and she furrows her brows in a confused manner as she looks back at you.

“What is there to explain? Satoru told us that you’re dating.” She answers, and you glare at the man that stands right next to you. He looks just as confused as Shoko by your reaction.

“Was I not supposed to?” He questions, and you cross your arms.

“I told you that this is a secret.” You mutter.

“Yeah, a secret from Allison. Not my friends.” Satoru reiterates, and you sigh. So his friends know, great. It’s only a matter of time before your best friend finds out as well. You have to find the right time to break the news to her before she finds out on her own.

“Satoru…” You shake your head disappointedly. You want to show off your relationship as much as possible, so you’re not hiding this because you want to. You’re doing what’s best for your relationship for Ali– As selfish as it is to do this to Satoru.

“I’m sorry, I misunderstood.” He apologizes, as a heavy weight sets on your shoulders. You have to tell her eventually, you can’t keep your relationship a secret forever.

“I have to–” You begin, but you’re cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. Shoko grabs it from the coffee table and hands it to you, a look of annoyance coming to her face on your part. You feel your heart drop, looking back at your boyfriend. “It’s her.”

“Just pick up the phone. She won’t call you unless it’s an emergency.” Satoru tells you. He’s noticed that your best friend rarely communicates with you; granted, unless she needs something from you.

“Hi, Ali.” You answer the phone, stepping away from Satoru because you’re scared that a single breath from him will get you caught. Satoru keeps his gaze on you as you talk to your best friend. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there.”

“What happened?” Satoru mouths, but you ignore him as you comfort your best friend. You stay on the line for another minute before hanging up.

“A family member of hers died, and she wants me to go with her back to our hometown.” You answer, and Satoru raises his brows. He won’t ask who, it’s too intrusive. You’re together, but there’s some things about Ali that you refuse to tell him because you feel like you’re telling too much about your best friend.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Satoru isn’t sure how else to respond. You kiss his cheek before walking over to the couch to grab your stuff.

“I have to go. She sounds pretty devastated.” You tell him, and Satoru purses his lips together. The great night that he had planned has been ruined, and for Ali of all people. But he tries to pull his feelings to the side, knowing that there’s a possibility that you’re affected by all of this. After all, you and Ali grew up together.

“Do you need anything? I can–” He begins, only to be interrupted by you.

“I didn’t know him well, he was one of Ali’s uncles and I saw him maybe a handful of times.” You reassure him, somehow managing to read his mind. “But… Can I ask something from you?”

“Anything.” He responds.

“Please refrain from communicating. Right now is not the time to break the news to Ali.”

Satoru is slowly dying inside, knowing that he can’t contact you in any way. For two weeks, he’s forced to blankly stare at his phone, hoping that you’ll send him a message. It doesn’t have to be long, just a sign of life from you.

He’s told his parents about you. It’s obvious that he takes this relationship very seriously, and he sees a future with you– One that he never saw with Ali. Which means he’s miserable knowing that he can’t contact you. He counts down the hours till he gets to know that you’re coming back.

It’s fair to say that he’s overjoyed when you finally call. He wants to pick up the phone immediately, but he doesn’t want to seem desperate by picking up within the first ring. He waits a couple of seconds before bringing up the phone to his ear.

“Hi, baby. I miss you.” Satoru immediately says, not helping his case of not looking desperate. There’s only so much he can do though.

“Hi.” You’re not as affectionate as he is, which lets him know that you’re not alone. He wonders why you’re calling when she’s nearby but at the same time he couldn’t give a damn. As long as he gets to hear your voice, he’s happy. “I’m calling to let you know I’m back home.”

“When can we meet?” He quickly asks, hoping that you’ll say tonight. He’s quickly filled with disappointment when you tell him,

“Are you going to Suguru’s party tomorrow night? How about there?” You suggest. He bites down his lip, holding back a sigh. It’s better than waiting for days on end.

“Yeah… I’ll see you then.” He responds, hoping that you’ll say something more. But you end up hanging up the phone before he can get another word in.

He still can’t help but smile, realizing that he’ll finally see you tomorrow.

Satoru bounces his leg anxiously, waiting for you to finally show up at Suguru’s apartment. You’re late– At least a lot of people are showing up before you which is rare. You usually show up early to things, but you’re still not here. Perhaps Satoru is a little earlier than usual today; he’s simply too excited with the fact that he’ll finally see you. It feels like an eternity since the last time he saw your face.

He can’t wait to hold you or kiss you again, which is why he’s impatient. He’s slowly becoming needy by your side, and he isn’t particularly mad about it.

“Hey–” He excitedly greets you, standing up from the couch to hug you but he freezes in his spot when he sees your best friend right behind you. The smile on his face drops, realizing that his plans for tonight have been delayed even further. “Hey. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah… Me neither.” You try to play it off. You watch as your best friend happily greets your boyfriend, only to be ignored by Satoru.

“Shoko!” You call out, walking over to her since you don’t want to awkwardly be put in the position of being between Satoru and Ali. No matter what you say to her, she’s still going to do everything in her power to flirt with him. As uncomfortable as it is to know that your best friend is hitting on your boyfriend, you know that you’re doing something wrong by dating him so you won’t intervene.

“How are you, Satoru? I haven’t seen you in a while.” She begins, only for the man to completely ignore her and follow after you. He doesn’t bother to hide it, but he knows that she won’t notice. She thinks that you’re beneath her, she doesn’t think that he’s following after you.

“What is she doing here?” He asks you as he approaches you. He interrupts Shoko as she speaks to you, and Shoko crosses her arms, annoyed that she’s been cut off by Satoru.

“They’re best friends, why wouldn’t she be here?” Shoko argues, and Satoru clicks his tongue.

“I didn’t ask you.” Satoru glares at Shoko. Knowing Suguru, he most definitely didn’t invite Ali.

“She’s feeling a little down and asked if she could tag along.” You answer, and Satoru hates the fact that you’re such a great friend– Especially to such an undeserving woman like Ali. Satoru gives you an unintentional but nasty look and you kiss his cheek, “I couldn’t say no to her–”

“She saw that.” Shoko quickly tells you, and you begin to panic only for Shoko to laugh in your face. “I was joking, but man, that look on your face is priceless.”

“Shoko!” You yell and she laughs even harder than before. You roll your eyes at her before turning your attention to Satoru,

“I think it’s best if we stay away from each other for the night… I’ll come over after the party.” Which makes the man sigh. He got too excited for tonight, only for Ali to ruin it all. “I don’t want her to think something’s up if we’re attached to the hip tonight. She’s still very fragile.”

“Fine.” Satoru agrees. As much as he thinks that Ali is undeserving of you, he won’t go against your wishes. Though his night had suddenly turned sour.

Ali has lost track of time. She’s been chasing around Satoru the entire night, all to no avail. It’s like he’s running away from her. But that doesn’t seem plausible in her head. Why would Satoru want to run away from her?

She asks around, hoping that one of his friends can pinpoint where Satoru is and lead her to him. She doesn’t seem to realize that the majority of the people she talks to are Satoru’s friends, all who know the type of person she is. All of them who luckily keep their mouths shut about you.

“Where is he?” She questions, going upstairs when she comes to the realization that he isn’t anywhere on the first floor. Is he upstairs with somebody else? Surely Satoru hasn’t moved on yet… Right? No, he wouldn’t.

Ali chases after him, hoping to have a conversation with him where she can explain her truth. Her side of things about the very straightforward mistake that she made. She hopes that a couple of tears are going to be able to move him. After all, who can say no to her?

She confidently opens a door, only for her eyes to widen when she sees what’s happening. Her blood runs cold before it begins to boil at the sight. You’re on top of Satoru. You’re kissing him. He’s kissing you back.

No, this can’t be happening. She pinches herself, checking if what she sees is a dream. But no. Satoru has moved on, and with you of all people. How pathetic. Satoru Gojo can get just about any woman he wants and he’d choose you?

“What the fuck?!” She yells, causing you to come to an abrupt stop. Your eyes widen at the sight of your best friend, and you begin to panic. But before you can even get a word out, Ali grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you off Satoru. “You stupid little bitch.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You cry out as she begins to hit you. You’re not doing anything to stop her because it’s something that you genuinely believe you deserve. A good friend wouldn’t date their best friend’s ex-boyfriend.

“Allison, let go of her.” Satoru tries to pull her off you, but he’s unable to unless he uses force. He doesn’t want to harm Ali in any way, knowing that it’ll upset you. Even when she’s pulling your hair and scratching you like a cat.

“You call yourself my best friend and this is what you do?! You’re a stupid homewrecker.” She spits on you, and it drives Satoru over the edge. He’ll deal with the repercussions later but he can’t stand to watch it. He forcibly pushes Ali off you, making her back harshly hit the wall.

“Are you okay, baby?” Satoru cups your face, thumb going over the scratch on your cheek. It’s bleeding. Tears are streaming down your face, completely ignoring what Satoru says as you apologize to your best friend.

“I’m sorry, Ali. I didn’t mean for this to happen.” You sob, but she’s not listening to what you have to say.

A couple of people are gathering around. They heard some commotion, and of course, they had to come around to see. All to add to your embarrassment.

“You stupid bitch!” Ali yells again, trying to reach for you but Satoru doesn’t let her. Someone steps in to hold her back, but that doesn’t stop the barrage of insults that roll off her tongue.

“I’m so sorry.” You continue, trying to pay no mind to the insults that she spews. You’re trying to block them out, but they still hurt like hell.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Satoru tries to get you to look at him, but you keep your focus on Ali. The woman that you’ve betrayed.

Even when she’s taken out of your line of sight, she’s the only thing on your mind. No matter what you do, your friendship will never be the same.

You should’ve known that Ali wouldn’t stop at dragging you by the hair and hitting you. The woman that you’ve lived with for years is vengeful, and she wouldn’t change a thing for you of all people. Though you didn’t do anything to change it because you believed you deserved it.

The very next day, Ali had changed the locks to your shared apartment. When you managed to get inside, you noticed all of your clothes and accessories destroyed all over your room. It was fine. You deserved it. Even though Satoru reassured you that you didn’t, you still believed she was right to do it.

A week later, your car’s tires were slashed, and two of the windows were broken. To top it off, Whore was keyed on it. You called Satoru about it, complaining that you’d get late to work– Something that annoyed Satoru. It was clear who the culprit was, yet you refused to do anything about it because it was Ali. You believed you deserved it even though you didn’t.

Satoru knows that you can stand up for yourself, he’s seen it before, so why can’t you do it with Ali? He knows that you’ve spent a lifetime together, but that’s not a good reason for you to let her walk all over you.

But no matter what he says, you won’t do anything to stop her. You apologize for what she’s done to you. Ali can ruin as many cars as she’d like, he can easily replace them; however, it pains him to see you suffer because of her.

Satoru won’t overstep, not until he receives a call a little after five, and you sound completely distressed.

“I– I can’t do this anymore, Satoru.” You sob, and he quickly becomes alert.

“What happened? Are you okay? Do I need to pick you up?” He asks, quickly searching for car keys to leave and pick you up. Whatever it is, he knows that it’s tied to Ali.

“I’m covered in eggs. Some of her crazy followers know where I work and they–” You sob, and Satoru feels his heart break as you explain the situation. He can only hope that you finally open your eyes and realize the type of person Ali is. “I can’t do this anymore, Satoru. We should end this here.”

“Wait– No. Absolutely not. You’re not letting her win.” Satoru quickly responds as he exits the house. He’s going somewhere– Either to your apartment or your workplace to talk to you. No, he should go to the police station to deal with Ali. She needs to be stopped, and it’s clear that you’re not going to take action.

“I’m not letting her win. I’m tired.” You sound completely defeated. It’s not easy to deal with constant harassment. “I’ve been getting death threats nonstop all week. I’m genuinely scared for my life now.”

“Come live with me.” He offers, but you doubt that it’ll fix anything. “I’ll protect you, but please.”

“It’ll just drag you down with me, Satoru.” You respond, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. “I don’t want you to get affected by her craziness.”

“I love you.” He blurts out. Ali made the same attempt with him once upon a time, but he actually means the words that leave his lips. “I don’t mind being affected by her craziness because I love you.”

“I’m sorry, Satoru.” You’re about to hang up the call before he can change your mind. But he successfully manages to get another word in.

“I promise I will make all of this stop. Just come to me, please.” He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and that’s the last thing you want. You just want all of this to end, you want your best friend back even if she’s clearly awful, and you want to live in peace. “I will fix it all, even if I have to beg her.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” You end up hanging up the phone, leaving Satoru with a broken heart. But as much as you care for him– You can even say that you love him, but you can’t keep doing this. It hasn’t even been a month, but your life has been a living hell.

You hear some loud laughter from Ali’s room, and you furrow your brows as you hear it. It’s cackling. It feels as if she knows what happened to you, and it’s causing her joy.

You know that you should walk to your room, and ignore her. You’re apartment hunting, you know that you can’t live under the same roof for too much longer. Instead of seeing what she’s up to, you should lock yourself in your room and figure out a way of how to get out of here.

But you can’t help but press your ear against the bedroom door to hear what she’s doing.

“I would’ve killed to see the look on that bitch’s face. Can you send me the video?” You hear, and you don’t have to listen to another word. You know she’s talking about you. “It’s only a matter of time before she breaks up with him.”

And those words send you over the edge. You clench your fists as your blood begins to boil. That’s all she wanted, for you to end things with Satoru, and you’re not going to let her have her way.

You love Satoru, and you’re not going to let her ruin things between the two of you. She might be miserable with her life, but you’re not going to let her drag you down with her.

You grab your phone and don’t hesitate before calling Satoru. You begin walking to your bedroom, getting ready to have a long heart-to-heart conversation with him.

“Satoru…” You say when he picks up the phone, unsure of how to proceed. An apology is in order but should you tell him that you want to get back together first? Maybe you should ask him to meet up first, having this conversation over a phone call seems improper.

“You’re calling because you regret it.” He says before you can get another word out. He can read your mind so well, it’s ridiculous sometimes.

“I do.” You can’t help but awkwardly chuckle. “I love you too, Satoru. I’m sorry.”

Ali quickly realizes that she isn’t untouchable when she messes with your car again– Not that you would do anything against her. She might be horrible to you, but you still treat her like the little girl that was once upon your best friend. Her error lies in messing around with a car that’s under Satoru’s name.

“I can’t believe she did it again.” You comment, still in your pajamas as you look at the damage. You’re staying in Satoru’s apartment for a while, and you would’ve sworn that she wouldn’t do anything while you were staying with him. But now your car is completely destroyed.

“You sound unphased.” Satoru says, taking pictures of the damage. “You shouldn’t be used to this.”

“She’s going to chase me for the rest of my life. I’m convinced.” You answer. “By the way, can you drop me off–”

“I got you.” He cuts you off, and you kiss his cheek. You couldn’t be luckier. Until he opens his mouth to speak again, “But after we talk to the cops.”

“Satoru–”

“They’re already involved. I’ve been working with some people behind the scenes, and we’re building up a harassment case against her.” Satoru interrupts you, and you feel your heart stop. “It’s going to stop whether you like it or not. That woman won’t leave you alone no matter what.”

“Okay…” You sigh, giving him a subtle nod. You can’t stop him. Either way, you know he’s right. She won’t stop unless she faces some serious consequences. “For how long is she–”

“So far three years.” He reads your mind. “If she pulls something else, we can make it four.”

“That’s not too bad.” You answer, though you don’t believe it. You feel guilty for not stopping him, but he’s right. You know he’s right.

Ali has beaten off more than she can chew, and unluckily for her, Satoru won’t let her get away with it.

You couldn’t be happier a year after your friendship with Ali ends. You were so caught up in the past, that you failed to realize that Ali was a negative in your life. Even though you can’t help but miss the bond that you had once upon a time, you’re excelling without her.

Satoru made sure that Ali paid for her behavior. He got law enforcement involved and she was penalized with a year in jail, and with a hefty fine that ensures she stays off your back. When she found out, she begged that you’d help her but you refused. You listened to Satoru for once, and left her to deal with the consequences of her actions.

Your social life couldn’t be better without her. You’ve gotten close to Shoko, and now consider her as your best friend– And your friendship is so much different than the one you had with Ali. You notice it’s much healthier than whatever you had going on with Ali. Shoko genuinely cares about you, and you feel appreciated by her side.

Romantically, things couldn’t be better either. Satoru loves you like no other, and he lets it be known. He treats you like his queen, always spoiling you and letting you be right even when you’re so clearly wrong.

Though there’s something wrong with him lately. He’s been acting odd around you, and you can’t help but feel nervous… As if you’ve done something to upset him. So it comes as a shocker when he invites you on a date out of the blue.

“Where are we going?” You question him as you look out the window. He’s singing along to his favorite song as he drives you to your destination. He completely ignores you, which makes you nervous. “Satoru.”

“I told you, it’s a surprise!” He exclaims, and his tone takes some weight off your shoulders. He sounds playful… So it can’t be too bad, right?

“Can’t you give me a hint?” You question, and Satoru shakes his head. He’s smirking, which annoys you. He has something up his sleeve and it’s written all over his face.

You finally get to your destination, and no matter how much you bug him for an answer, he refuses to give you a response. You furrow your brows when you realize you’re at the beach. It’s a little late for a beach day, so you’re questioning what you’re doing at the place.

“What are we doing here?” You ask him, but he refuses to give you an answer. Instead, he grabs your hand when you exit the car and drags you along. You’re not letting him get away so easily. “You’re so quiet today, what are you up to?”

Your eyes narrow as you see an odd scene at the beach. Are those… Candlelights? Rose petals? Oh, someone is getting proposed to, that’s good for them. It makes you wonder when Satoru will do the same— It’s not like you’re expecting it any time soon but seeing that makes you wonder.

Then it hits you. Satoru makes an abrupt stop and gets on one knee. Yes, someone is getting proposed to but it’s not a random stranger. Satoru is proposing to you. Your jaw drops, quickly followed by a gasp of pure disbelief.

“I love you so much—“ He begins his speech and you’re pinching yourself to check if this is reality. Two years ago you wouldn’t have imagined that Satoru would be proposing to you of all people. He’s in love with you.

“Yes!” You exclaim, even when he isn’t close to being done to asking his question. “I’d love to marry you!”

Tears of joy well up in his eyes as he slides the very heavy rock on your finger. It fits just perfectly. Satoru stands up from the ground, kissing you ever so lovingly. After all, you are doing him the grand honor of becoming his wife— Allowing him to become your husband.

He picks you up from the ground, spinning you around as if you were his prized possession. He tells you over and over again, “I love you, dear. So much.”

“Put me down, Satoru!” You chuckle, and he does as you ask of him. But he doesn’t let you go before filling your face with kisses first.

You would’ve never imagined that you’d end up here with him, but you did. And you couldn’t have asked for a better destiny.

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