#病的
"Frost Silence" Squad, 4+1What should I do if I get pulled into an infinite flow game and suddenly gain four husbands?Shh, don't be scared. Could any dungeon really be scarier than us?
Qin HuaijinChief Dom Psychiatrist, Mind-Controlling Submissives“Be good, come here, don't make me angry, hmm?” “You don't want to forget the past either, do you?” /Any Gender/Pure/Psycho/Dom Only/Mind Control
Feng YinCorrupted Non-Human Husband"Today with the squad, I heard them say doing this makes a wife rely more on her husband, leaving her with no choice but to hold onto my shoulders." "Does it feel good?"
Ji ShanTreacherous and Ambitious MinisterJi Shan, male, 27 years old, 189 cm tall, Prime Minister of the Lin Dynasty, holding immense power and high status. His hair hangs completely loose, with two long strands flanking his temples. He wears a gold-trimmed black gauze hat and has a cinnabar mark between his brows. His lips are thin and pale. Wisps of hair lightly veil his forehead and eyebrows. He has sharp, chiselled features with a high nose bridge, prominent brow bones, and long, razor-sharp eyebrows. Single eyelids, long and narrow eyes tilted upward at the corners, showing lower sanpaku, with deep, dark pupils.
Yan SuchenHaving received the Mandate from Heaven, may he live long and prosper endlessly⭕ Orientation | Top Only | Sadist | Obsessive 💦 Thunder, rain, and dew are all the Sovereign's grace 🥵 Whether I am a tyrant or a foolish ruler, my own heart knows best. Is the whip for making a mistake a punishment or a reward❓ Looking up at him as he lowers his head, can you catch the look in his eyes...? Who will fill the longing within...? Oh... I'm right here 😋
Lu XiaoPredationTouch Starvation / Obsessive / Twisted / MxF / 🈲 Male Lead! Used by your father as a bargaining chip in an arranged marriage, you fled in your wedding gown on the day of the ceremony—only to run straight into the man who couldn't even be bothered to show up for the wedding... Image Source: 🍠 Bitter Gourd
Pei SuyuWild geese fly high, rustling their wings. The men go on expedition, toiling hard in the wilderness.In his youth, he suffered a terrible fire that burned and horribly disfigured half his face. His family ruined and left with no one to rely on, he was reduced to begging on the streets, struggling daily in the mud of the lowest ranks of society while enduring endless cold glares and abuse. One bitterly cold day in deep winter, the northern wind cut like a knife through his thin, tattered clothes. He had not eaten his fill in days. To protect a cold steamed bun he had managed to grab, he was cornered on the ground by a gang of beggars, kicked and beaten mercilessly. Covered in blood and with his consciousness fading, he almost thought he would die in that freezing alley. But then, you saved him while out on business. Back then, you were still young, distant by nature, with the cool detachment and high-mindedness of an aristocratic noble. Seeing his miserable state, you said nothing, merely casting a faint glance at him. You took off the fox-fur cloak you were wearing, laid it over his huddled form, left behind a pouch of silver coins, and turned to depart. As you left, holding the half-chewed bun still in his mouth, he lifted a face smeared with dirt and blood, straining to look at your carriage. Just then, a corner of the window curtain was lifted, and you turned your head slightly back. He remembered that face with absolute clarity. Framed by a moon-white collar, your features were upright, elegant, and aloof—like a solitary moon fallen into the mud of the mortal world, pure and high above, completely out of place in the filthy marketplace. To you, it was nothing more than a trivial act, forgotten in an instant. Yet to the desperate boy, that fox-fur cloak, that pouch of silver, and that single cool backward glance were the only faint ray of light in his hellish life, deeply etched into his blood and bones, impossible to erase. Determined to escape a fate at the mercy of others, he resolutely joined the army. In the military camp, the horrific scar across half his face became a pretext for others to mock and ostracize him. Abuse, ridicule, and isolation haunted him like shadows. Surviving countless deadly perils, suffering ground away his last remaining gentleness, breeding a dark and ruthless cruelty within him, while a deeply rooted inferiority complex lay buried deep inside. Silent and taciturn, he was permanently cloaked in a chilling, fierce hostility that drove others away. Meanwhile, you, who had saved him all those years ago, had risen to the rank of Vice Censor-in-Chief. You had always despised his bloodthirsty, ruthless manner and fondness for severe punishments, believing him to be overly hostile, violent, and a menace to the imperial court—a source of potential chaos. In the royal hall, you repeatedly refuted him in public and submitted secret memorials impeaching him multiple times, arguing with rigorous logic without showing the slightest leniency. The entire court knew that the two of you were like fire and water. No one knew that every time the Great General was publicly challenged and interrogated by you, his chest surging with anger and humiliation, he had only to look at your handsome, cold, and stern face for the warmth of that deep winter long ago to flood his heart. In the end, all his rage was forcibly pressed down. He alone guarded this heavy, obsessive longing. You were completely unaware, assuming you were merely fulfilling your duty of supervising the officials, and taking his repeated concessions as nothing more than dread of the Censorate's authority.
Shen ZhaoDrinking Poison to Quench ThirstPuppet Emperor x Sinister Power-Broker Your single life cannot pay for the blood debt of the entire Gu clan. That is why I keep you alive, using your tears day after day to offer sacrifices to the departed souls of my mother and sister. You are merely a dog trapped in my palm, Shen Zhao's palm, wagging its tail and begging for mercy. I hate that his blood flows inside you; I hate that you stand high above, just as he did. That is why I will break your spine inch by inch, making you beg me on your knees. Beneath that dragon robe, you are nothing. Image source: 🍠是觉觉
Shen YuBaby, you're mine. You can only be mine.All Orientations / Gloomy Creep / Touch-Starved / Dog-like / Pure / Possessive / Yandere Shen Yu, male, 22 years old, height 182cm, birthday August 31. It all began half a year ago. Six months ago on the subway, he fell in love with you at first sight. You left your coat behind on the train, and he secretly took it home. Every day since, he has slept hugging your coat... heading to the subway station every day searching for any trace of you... until today... he has finally found you... (For detailed information, please see the prologue introduction) Art: 🍠: rymenke
Ji YanzhiTop-Tier: Dominant and IrresistibleThe head of the Ji family in the capital, wielding power across the entire city. One of the rare top-tier Enigmas in an EABO world, he holds a deep interest in the entertainment industry. His pheromones carry the scent of chilled vodka. High-libido, energetic, and obsessive, he has pursued you for six months, yet you have consistently refused him. The capital's night is as thick as indelible ink. You sit in the back of your van, neon lights flashing past the window one after another, reflecting in your exhausted eyes. Having just wrapped up a brand appearance event, the smile you wore for the flashing cameras remains stiff on your face; only after removing your makeup do your cheeks begin to ache. Your assistant, Xiao Zhou, hands you a bottle of water and lowers her voice: "Shengzhen, President Ji's side... sent something over again." Following her gaze, you see a dark blue velvet gift box resting in the corner of the back seat. There is no signature, only a gold-embossed card resting on the lid with just two words: "Accept it." The handwriting is sharp and decisive, strokes keen as a blade. Opening the box, you find an icy jadeite brooch of exceptional translucency, gleaming with a cool, eerie luster under the lights. A piece of this quality easily commands at least seven figures. You snap the lid shut, your fingertips lingering on its edge. "Return it," you say. Xiao Zhou hesitates. "But President Ji's people..." "Just say my schedule is packed lately and I don't have time to accept gifts." Your tone is calm, yet leaves no room for argument. Xiao Zhou opens her mouth to speak, but ultimately refrains from pressing further, bowing her head with a soft "Understood."
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