|18+| ❛𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒊 𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 ❜ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Dark mysterious eyes. Fierce blazing eyes. Two enemies under one roof under the binds of an arranged marriage. While trying their best to ignore themselves and feelings just for the sake of their various companies, they couldn't help the sexual tension between them. There's a thin line between love and hate they say. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ "Sit on my face," I say firmly, laying down on the bed while she stares down at me like I had two heads. "But...how would you breathe?" Isabella asks, looking at my face and I chuckle. "That's my problem to deal with àmore," I urge her, seeing the lust on her face. "Just sit on my face, please."

A little girl in a pink, cloud-soft frock once wandered into a world that should have warned her away. She found them at the edge of a dying playground. Two identical boys, caked in mud, standing too still for children their age. Their eyes followed her long before she spoke. "Why are you both sad?" she asked, her voice light and untouched by caution. They smiled. "Because we are dirty," one said. "And no one wants to play with us," the other added. It should have been a simple answer. It wasn't. She frowned, as if the world had made a small, correctable mistake, and took their hands without hesitation. That was the first choice. The smallest one. The one that mattered most. By the time they reached the park, the air felt different. It was quiet and heavier than anything, as though something unseen had drawn closer just to listen. "Let's play," she said brightly, tossing a ball into the space between them. But there were only three of them. And she refused to leave either side. So she ran back and forth, laughter breaking into breathless gasps, small shoes scuffing against the dirt as she tried to belong everywhere at once. With him. With him. Never choosing. Never stopping. Until the boys stopped smiling. Until they simply watched. "You'll get tired," one of them said softly. "You can't play both sides forever," the other murmured. But she only grinned, flushed and stubborn, her voice trembling with a promise she did not understand. "I can. And I will play with both of you." That was the second choice. Years later, when the bodies began to surface, when whispers of manipulation, obsession, and something far darker crept into every room she entered, no one thought to trace it back to a sunlit afternoon and a game that never really ended. But some games don't stop. They wait. And the most dangerous players are the ones who were never taught to choose.