Haii!! My name is amore and I write for literally anyone but focus on enhypen! I love music, reading and am also a shifter!! I do not write smut for idols born after 05. I love getting requests, but please look through my rules first!
I write fem!pov or gn!pov.
rules masterlist anons taglist
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Do not copy, translate or repost my works without permission!
So, let's get this straight. Ni-ki and Jungwon went on lives and we find out about comeback coming soon when the last one was barely 2 months ago plus tour. Ni-ki, dancer who is famous for being able to learn a choreography in 10 minutes since 15, says that he is confusing the dances because they have to learn new ones on top of relearning old ones (because of the change in formation). Jungwon got asked about the concert timing and he confessed that there is no plans. Ni-ki wasn't allowed to dance to XO, wasn't allowed to turn on Daydream and comments about enhypen 7 got deleted in real time. So, the company could have been protecting them from hateful comments during the lives, but just decided not to. They could have regulated fans at the airport (fans were separated from them for their flight to china) but just decided not to. The comeback being this close to the previous one just confirms that they didn't want to postpone for Heeseung's solo, instead choosing to keep them overworked for money.
Boycotting is not harming them, because truly enhypen has been harmed for six years. They were traumatized since before their debut for entertainment and greed and that kept being the pattern. This was the tipping point because no one could have evet predicted that something like this could have happened on random tuesday. It feels honestly eye opening not only to how horrible belift and hybe are bur also how many so-called fans never cared for enhypen, never saw them as human beings, but just as tools for their entertainment. Unfortunately, nobody can guarantee that something like this is not going to happen again because belift made only one thing loud and clear: they will do anything for money and as long as enhypen is profitable, they will not stop at anything. They might kick someone else out, too. The thing is, all of the members showed interest, talked about doing solo. Maybe not musically, but definitely some sort of solo activity that would show who they are not in the bound of the group, but still in it. People are also concerned about contract renewal, which I am too, but realistically, enhypen are one of the biggest groups globally and they just won biggest korean award, and belift still didn't care. They are already big enough for good contract conditions, belift is just horrible. Also, people are acting like heeseung has so much power just to decide and choose to leave the group when even the older idols from companies that are little less horrifying than belift can't do anything. And he always very openly talked about his music and producing which also have to supervised by the company, so no breach of contract on his end. 'They work hard and won’t get anything' most of the money goes to the company anyways. Belift is moving like a fast fashion brand. Exploiting real human beings for quick money. Yes, I agree that on short term this all is harmful, but long term this might just change everything. Now, this all is not just about Heeseung, it’s all 7 of them. The conditions that they work under are just inhumane. We heard this from the members time and time again, but never did anything. Maybe this time we, the people, that are not bound by any contract, can do something. You think you wouldn’t be able to support them while boycotting? - vote for them on podoal, mubeat, my1pick. If there was any other effective ways to knock some sense into that greedy company, i would've been happy, but the only thing they care about is money. This is boycott against hybe and belift, not enhypen.
cause saying that the same guy that sacrificed his practice time in iland to help the others practice, that pushed for the dark blood album and even stepped up to help with recordings and everything regarding it, that the same guy that wrote highway 1009 and was excited for the european tour and was just talking about it barely two days ago would SUDDENLY drop everything and pursue a soloist career DEFINITELY adds up yeah right
– Hold all financial/monetary support until demands are met.
– Spread on different socials.
– Keep your Weverse accounts to send immense words of support for the guys, they do not care for numbers or charts more than each other and certainly not more than engenes so do not disrespect them by doing what enha has never done.
– Protest outside; trucks, flyers, boards, etc.
– Sign & share petition.
DON'T:
– Give them a black ocean.
– Spread misinformation.
– Believe unreliable sources.
– Give up now or in a week or month.
– Harass enha's friends or family.
Listen, I need you all to please just listen this once. You all need to get it together and boycott HYBE, not just BE:LIFT or Enhypen. All subsidies. ALL. I know many of us are multis and enjoy many HYBE artists so I am telling you to cut all official streaming, pirate content through mp4s and mp3s, keep your Weverse account and send support to all 7 members of Enhypen, trend tags, send trucks, do all that but none of it matters if you want to call their investors and claim stocks are down— you need to bring them down and KEEP them down, cut all sources of income they have, we only need 10% of HYBE's regular consumers/buys to halt their financial support until full demands are met here: bring Heeseung, let enhypen rest, and stop funding zionists that are causing all of this— you might as how this related to Enhypen? The board of directors is THE higher ups we are talking about attacking for making this decision.
Scooter Braun has many connections to supporting Israel and even meeting Netanyahu and being praised by the Israeli government. He is deep in supporting the Occupation and posting Islamophobic and disgusting things on his socials. He is also the right hand of Bang Si-Hyuk, they have multiple times stated their close bond and his position now is literally THAT in the company.
Bang Si-Hyuk is choosing a zionist over his own talented and innocent artist? Is that fair to you all? We need to get them both OUT to stop this cycle. They are trying to normalize not letting any HYBE artist fight for their rights to have their own individual opportunities as soloists in the future without leaving their team with heavy hearts.
You want names of our main enemies?
Scooter Braun
Bang Si-Hyuk
They are the ones pulling all these strings so please just this once I am asking you to understand the fact that they let an IOF touch Enhypen's discography too and he is now getting profit from royalties but Heeseung no longer can! How the fuck is scum more important than Heeseung?
Fighting each other and giving up is what they all are banking on and waiting for. DO. NOT. GIVE. UP. Enough with the nihilism and defeatist garbage takes that help nobody. Please spread and read the infographics below to learn more, follow Connect4Pal and Army4Palestine and get organized with us, stop letting these zionists spread their disgusting ideologies, taint their artists, and abuse them.
INFOGRAPHICS BY CONNECT4PAL:
ENGLISH VER.
KOREAN VER.
JAPANESE VER.
CHINESE VER.
If you have any questions just ask me but for the love of whatever you believe in do not spread misinformation or talk about things you don't UNDERSTAND. Nobody is boycotting just enha only misguided folks so I am trying my hardest to guide them and everyone else. Nobody is forcing you to boycott but do not attack and send threats to those who do not want to give HYBE a single cent for being disgusting and hurting our seven.
their stocks are falling, the petition is around LESS THAN 100k signatures away from reaching ONE MILLION, there have been almost EIGHT MILLION posts on x/twt about this, multiple protest trucks outside the building of hybe THAT HYBE STAFF THEMSELVES TOOK PHOTOS OF !!!! and reminder there have been NO news of his contract termination even if he’s supposedly (let’s assume) under a soloist contract THERES STILL NO NEWS OF HIS CONTRACT TERMINATION FOR ENHYPEN. as bad as it may feel and look like for us rn it’s looking WAY worse for hybe/belift. there’s still sm hope don’t any of u dare to give up pls — mass email, call, use as many emails as you have, do anything in your capability because nothing has been fully confirmed and decided yet we still have a chance !!!
SIGN THE PETITION !!! LINK
• READ THE THREAD TO HELP: LINK
• EMAIL THEIR INVESTORS: LINK 1 | LINK 2 | LINK 3
• KOREAN [in person] PROTEST: LINK 1 | LINK 2
• GIVE BAD REVIEWS (they’ve currently deleted over hundreds of bad reviews to fix their image — meaning that they’ve seen and heard everything!!! keep going!!!): LINK
• EMAIL KOREAN JOURNALISTS/MEDIA: LINK 1 | LINK 2 | LINK 3
• TRUCK DONATIONS: LINK 1 | LINK 2
• TIMES SQUARE BILLBOARD DONATIONS: LINK
• BANNER DONATIONS / FUNDRAISERS: LINK
• EMAIL JBTC CHANNEL [one of the biggest news outlets in sk]: LINK
𝜗𝜚 doghybrid!jake x human!reader 𝜗𝜚 imagine, smut 𝜗𝜚 2.9k
𝜗𝜚 nsfw, sub!jake, knotting, cunniligus, p in v, no protection, reader calls jake puppy, lmk if I missed anything!
𝜗𝜚 I feel like there are just not enough hybrid fics for enhypen. ALSO WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IN ENHATUMBLR IM SO LOST??? Anyways this is kinda ass and the ending is rushed but I hope yall enjoy nevertheless!!
Eager
An adjective of the english language that describes a person having or showing an impatient or enthusiastic desire or interest.
A person who wants to succeed in their position in order to get money, a person impatiently waiting for the concert they’ve been excitedly waiting for months now. Or perhaps, a dog eager to please his owner.
Jake was eager in many ways, and coincidentally—he was also a dog.
Not quite fully—but the brown, sloppy ears peaking through his messy strands and the fluffy tail wiggling behind him gave away his hybrid nature. His nature to protect, to love, to please.
So it came just as naturally that Jake—your dear Jakey—loved compliments. The reassurement that whatever he did was good, that it satisfied you was worth every single effort. The sound as you cooed those praises would leave his tail wagging in a almost impossible pace, eyes lightening up and tongue darting out. He would look like a excited puppy, clinging onto you to slobber up your face with wet kisses.
Or—in other instances—his mouth would simply latch onto your pussy.
Tongue darting out eagerly as if the taste of your slick was the best treat your puppy has ever tasted. And god, did you taste good. He could eat you out every hour of the day—really, he could— but he knew not to tire you too much. After all you were his favorite human.
“Such a good boy, hm?” Your voice was breathy, a mix of a plea and a command while your hair found his brown locks. Your fingers brushed against his sensitive ears, earning another whine from the hybrid against your pussy. His tail thumped against the bed like a drumbeat—wild and desperate—as he pressed closer, his broad shoulders pinning your thighs apart.
Jake had been seated between your legs since you'd first pushed him there—hours ago, maybe minutes—time blurring under the steady rhythm of his tongue. His thighs trembled now, muscles straining with the effort of holding himself back from rutting against the mattress like some untrained stray. But he wasn't untrained. He was yours, and the choked little whimpers slipping past his spit-slick lips proved just how well he knew his place.
Your fingers tightened in his hair, nails scraping lightly against the base of his ears—just enough to make him shudder, his rhythm stuttering for half a second before he doubled down, tongue curling deeper like he was trying to memorize the shape of you. The noise he made was something between a growl and a whine, muffled against your skin, his nose pressing flush to your clit as if he could breathe you in.
"Y-Y/N" Your name was a breathy prayer on his lips as he pulled back just enough to speak, his chin glistening with your arousal. His pupils were blown wide, dark with hunger—but beneath that, something softer flickered, something adoring. He nuzzled into your thigh, inhaling sharply like he was trying to sear your scent into his memory. "Wanna—wanna make you feel good," he mumbled, voice rough and uneven, like he was fighting to keep himself together. His hips twitched against the mattress, the fabric of his sweatpants strained tight.
You arched beneath him, thighs trembling as his breath hitched against your skin. The desperation in his voice sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your stomach—his restraint was fraying, and god, you wanted to watch him unravel. Your fingers trailed down to cradle his jaw, thumb brushing over his swollen lips. "You are making me feel good," you murmured, voice thick. "But—" You pressed down lightly on his shoulder, guiding him back just enough to meet his gaze. "What do you need, puppy?"
Jake’s breath hitched at the question, his entire body going rigid for a fraction of a second before he melted against your touch, nuzzling into your palm like a starved thing. His tongue darted out to swipe at your thumb, warm and wet, before he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His ears twitched—nervous, unsure—but his tail thumped harder against the bed, betraying his eagerness.
Jake was desperate. Not just with him rutting against the mattress, but desperate to please you. Desperate for permission. His tail thumped harder—wild, frantic—as he swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing before he rasped out, “Want—want you. Need—” His voice cracked as his fingers dug into the sheets, knuckles white. “Need to be inside. Please, Y/N. Please let me—”
The way he said it—like it was a plea, like he’d die if you said no—sent a shiver down your spine. You could see the tension coiled in his shoulders, the way his hips jerked helplessly against nothing, his sweatpants damp where his cock strained against the fabric. His pupils were blown so wide his eyes looked almost black, his breath coming in ragged pants.
Your breath hitched at the raw need in his voice, fingers tightening in his hair just enough to make him whimper. His hips jerked forward again, a wet patch darkening the fabric over his cock—god, he was dripping for you. The sight alone had your own arousal pooling hotter between your thighs. "Yeah?" you teased, voice low, dragging your thumb over his bottom lip. "You think you've earned it, puppy?"
Your thumb caught between his lips as he nodded eagerly, teeth grazing your skin in a way that sent a jolt straight to your core. The desperate little noise that escaped him vibrated against your fingertip—half-whine, half-growl—as if the mere suggestion that he hadn’t earned this was tearing him apart. His tail thumped so hard against the mattress it sounded like a war drum, his thighs trembling where they bracketed yours.
Jake’s fingers dug into the mattress like claws, his entire body trembling with the effort of holding still. His breath came in ragged bursts against your thigh, hot and uneven, as if he were seconds away from losing control. His pupils were blown so wide they swallowed the color of his irises, leaving only a thin ring of honey-brown around the black. “Please,” he choked out, voice wrecked, “I—I’ll be good, I promise.” His hips jerked forward again, the damp fabric of his sweatpants clinging obscenely to his cock, the outline of it rigid and desperate.
His begging was irresistible—raw and unfiltered, the kind of need that couldn’t be faked. You hooked a finger under the waistband of his sweatpants, dragging them down just enough to free his cock, swollen and dripping against his stomach. Jake whimpered, his entire body shuddering at the contact, his tail now thrashing so violently it kicked up the sheets. "Go on, then," you murmured, spreading your thighs wider. "Show me how good you can be."
Jake didn’t need to be told twice. The second your thighs parted wider, he surged forward with a noise that was half growl, half sob, his hands scrambling to grip your hips like he was afraid you’d vanish. His cock dragged against your inner thigh, leaving a slick trail of precum as he lined himself up, his breath coming in ragged, wet pants against your neck. “Y/N—fuck—” His voice cracked as he pressed in, slow but insistent, his forehead dropping to your shoulder like the sheer sensation of you was too much to bear.
Jake’s hips stuttered the moment he was fully sheathed inside you, his entire body trembling like a leaf in a storm. A broken whine tore from his throat, muffled against your skin as he buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck, his breath scalding hot. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to bruise, but the pain was distant—secondary to the way his cock twitched inside you, as if even the slightest shift had him teetering on the edge.
Your hybrid was big, and so painfully unaware of it.
The first thrust was clumsy—desperate—his hips jerking forward like he couldn’t control himself, his cock dragging against your walls in a way that punched the breath from your lungs. Jake froze immediately, ears flattening against his head as he pulled back just enough to search your face, his pupils blown wide with panic. “Did—did I hurt you?” His voice was ragged, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. His tail had stilled completely, the tip twitching nervously against the mattress.
You laughed breathlessly, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging just enough to make him whimper. "No, puppy—just big," you murmured, arching up to press a kiss to his panting lips. "You're doing so good." The reassurance ignited something primal in him—his hips jerked forward again, this time with more control, his cock sliding deep in a slow, deliberate thrust that made your toes curl. Jake's breath hitched, his ears perking up at the choked moan that escaped your throat. His tail gave a tentative wag before thumping against the bed again, faster now, spurred on by your praise.
Jake’s rhythm faltered for just a second—your words sinking into him like sunlight through storm clouds—before he snapped his hips forward again, harder this time, with a choked-off groan. His fingers flexed against your thighs, blunt nails pressing crescent moons into your skin as if he needed the anchor. Every thrust was a shuddering, uneven thing, his control fraying at the edges, but he kept his movements deep and slow, just like you’d taught him. His breath was hot and ragged against your collarbone, his lips brushing your skin with every pant. “Y-Y/N—fuck—” His voice cracked, the syllables dissolving into a whine as his cock twitched inside you, his body trembling like a bowstring pulled too tight.
Jake's next thrust was less controlled—more instinct than training—his hips snapping forward with a desperate urgency that had your back arching off the mattress. His teeth grazed your shoulder, blunt and trembling, as if he were fighting the urge to sink them in deeper. A broken sound tore from his throat when you clenched around him, his rhythm stuttering for just a second before he fucked into you harder, his cock dragging against that sweet spot inside you with every ragged push.
The moment your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails scraping down the sweat-slick muscle of his back, Jake lost whatever last shred of restraint he’d been clinging to. His hips pistoned forward in a frantic rhythm, each thrust punctuated by a punched-out whimper against your collarbone. His tail lashed wildly behind him, the sound of it thumping against the mattress nearly drowning out the obscene slap of skin on skin. You could feel him trembling—not just from exertion, but from the sheer effort of holding back, of trying to be good even as his instincts screamed at him to take, claim, ruin.
Jake’s breath hitched in ragged, uneven bursts against your throat, his lips brushing your pulse point like a prayer. His hips jerked forward again, this time with enough force to push you up the mattress, his cock throbbing inside you as if it were alive—desperate, starving. The whine that escaped him was raw, unfiltered, his fingers tightening around your hips like he was afraid you’d vanish if he loosened his grip for even a second.
Jake's rhythm faltered for a heartbeat—his entire body locking up with a shuddering gasp as your thighs clenched around his hips. The sudden pressure dragged a ragged moan from his throat, his forehead pressing harder into your shoulder like he was trying to bury himself in your skin. His tail had gone rigid, the fur bristling along his spine as his cock pulsed inside you, thick and unyielding. "C-Close," he choked out, the word mangled by the teeth digging into his lower lip. His hips stuttered, fucking into you in shallow, desperate jerks, his breath coming in wet, uneven pants against your neck. "Y/N, fuck, I—I can't—"
The words barely made it past his lips before his hips bucked forward once, twice—then stilled completely, his entire body seizing up with a ragged cry. His cock twitched deep inside you, pulsing as he came, his fingers clutching at your hips like a drowning man clinging to driftwood. The noise he made was raw, almost pained, as if the pleasure was too much for him to bear—like he hadn’t been expecting it to hit him this hard. His tail thrashed wildly behind him, smacking against the mattress with enough force to shake the bedframe, his breath coming in hot, uneven pants against your collarbone.
Your lips parted in a silent scream as Jake’s cock twitched inside you, his release flooding your core in thick, pulsing waves. The stretch was unbearable—too much, too fast—and yet Jake didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, his hips jerking forward with a final, desperate snap as the base of his cock swelled inside you. The sudden pressure wrenched a ragged cry from your throat, your fingers clawing at his shoulders as his knot locked him deep, pulsing against your walls with every frantic heartbeat. Jake whimpered, his entire body trembling like a leaf in a storm, his forehead pressed into the crook of your neck as if he were praying. "S-Sorry," he gasped, voice wrecked, his tail twitching nervously against your thigh. "Can’t—can’t pull out—"
Jake’s body went rigid against you, his breath stuttering in ragged, wet bursts against your skin. His knot pulsed inside you, unrelenting, every throb wringing another choked whine from his throat. His fingers trembled where they gripped your hips, his claws retracting instinctively—careful, always so careful—even as his instincts screamed at him to hold tighter. “Fuck,” he gasped, his voice shredded raw, his forehead pressed into your shoulder like he was trying to crawl inside you. “S’too much—fuck—”
The sound of Jake’s whimpers filled the room, high and broken, as his hips twitched involuntarily against yours, his knot still locked deep inside you. His breath came in shuddering gasps, his forehead damp with sweat where it pressed against your collarbone. You could feel the way his pulse raced beneath his skin, the frantic thrum of his heartbeat where your fingers tangled in his hair. His tail, still twitching erratically, brushed against your thigh in nervous, uneven strokes—like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to enjoy this, even now.
Jake's whimpers tapered off into a shaky exhale, his body still trembling where it was pressed against yours—too hot, too close, and yet you couldn’t imagine pulling away. His breath fanned across your collarbone in uneven bursts, his nose nudging against your skin as if seeking comfort. When you carded your fingers through his sweat-damp hair, his tail gave a feeble wag, the motion weak but unmistakable.
Jake's breath hitched when your fingertips traced the curve of his ear—still twitching nervously even in the aftermath—and his hips jerked instinctively, his oversensitive cock pulsing inside you with a fresh dribble of cum. A whimper lodged in his throat, raw and wounded, as if the sensation was too much to bear. His fingers flexed against your hips, blunt claws dimpling your skin before he forced them to relax, exhaling sharply through his nose.
"You did so good, Jakey," you murmured, your voice thick with affection as your fingers trailed down his spine, tracing the damp curve of his back. His breath stuttered at the praise, his tail giving another weak thump against the mattress—more reflex than intention now. His knot was still locked inside you, a heavy, throbbing weight that had him trembling with every minute shift. You could feel the way his muscles twitched under your touch, oversensitive and strung tight, like a bowstring after release.
Jake made a sound—something between a sob and a sigh—his forehead pressing harder into your shoulder as if he could fuse himself to you. His fingers twitched against your hips, claws retracting further, careful even in his dazed state. The heat of him was overwhelming, his skin slick with sweat where your palms smoothed over his back, tracing the taut muscles that still trembled under your touch.
Jake's breathing slowed gradually, the frantic panting giving way to deep, shuddering inhales that matched the rise and fall of your chest beneath him. His weight was warm and solid, pressing you into the mattress in a way that felt less like confinement and more like a blanket of safety—like he couldn’t bear to let even an inch of space separate you now. His nose nuzzled against your collarbone, damp with sweat and the ghost of his earlier desperation, but his movements were languid now, almost drowsy. You could feel the exact moment his knot began to soften, the pressure easing just enough for him to whimper at the sensitivity, his hips twitching involuntarily against yours.
The room smelled like sweat and sex, the air thick with the scent of Jake’s desperation and your shared release. His body was heavy atop yours, still trembling occasionally as his knot finally began to ease, his cock twitching inside you with oversensitive little jerks that made him whimper against your collarbone. You carded your fingers through his damp hair, scratching lightly at the base of his ears, and he melted further into you with a sigh that was half-relief, half-exhaustion. His tail gave one last, feeble wag before stilling completely, draped over your thigh like a lazy afterthought.
Jake had always been eager—eager to please, eager to serve, eager to lose himself in the way your body welcomed him. But now, in the quiet aftermath, his eagerness had softened into something else entirely. His breathing slowed, his trembling limbs stilling as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing your skin in silent worship. The weight of him was grounding, his warmth seeping into your bones like sunlight through stained glass, fractured and golden.
A/N :: Was listening to ethel cain and just needed to write this. Its lwk a bit ass but wtvvvv
Tags :: religious setting (church, confessional, church roles, mention of god), angst, mention of killing/death/sins, toxic dynamic (both are borderline obsessed with eachother), improper use of cross necklace, oral (f recieving), no protection, semi-public sex, not proofread. Lemme know if I missed anything!!
---
You were punished by love.
The deep, aching poison that crept up your veins until it reached your heart — pumping the deadly emotion through every tunnel, every tissue until your were completely and utterly corrupted by it. Perhaps that had been the reason for your fear. Allowing people to be close to you gave them the power to leave again and in this world, you could never allow anyone to hold such power.
Yet despite your caution, despite your hesitance, you found yourself completely and utterly enthralled with him. The dimpled smile comforted the agony in your chest, his gentle voice as he spoke out the prayers infront of the church community. He was everything you were not—pure, holy, faithful. You had spent your entire life building walls high enough to keep out even the most persistent invaders, yet he slipped through the cracks effortlessly, like water seeping into parched earth.
Jungwon was, what most people tend to call him, a saint. The flickering hope in the dark village that you reside in. Born as the pastors son, he had been raised with the scripture tucked under his arms and the lord’s name always at the tip of his tongue. He was the golden child—the epitome of everything you could never be.
He had stepped into his fathers footsteps young, silver cross resting against his chest as he preached sermons that sent shivers down your spine—not from fear, but from something far more damning. You watched him from the pews, fingers tightening around your rosary beads until the indents marked your skin. He was supposed to be untouchable, yet when his eyes flickered to yours mid-prayer, you swore they darkened with something unholy.
This was your punishment.
For all the lives that had ended by your touch, the fear that had sat deep in their guts at the mere look of your eyes. How ironic it was, that you—the one they whispered about in hushed tones, the one they crossed themselves at the sight of—now trembled beneath the gaze of a man who preached salvation. Jungwon's fingers, so careful as they turned the pages of his bible, had traced the edge of your wrist once when no one was looking, and the burn lingered like a brand. You wondered if he knew what you were, if he could taste the sin clinging to your breath when he leaned just a little too close during confession.
You had never been religious. Seeing human pray with all their effort for their sick loved ones or the small prayers that had left your victims lips before you had freed them from the torture of life had seemed ridiculous. What could god do when it was you who decided who lived and who died? You had felt superior to the entity, its entire being nothing but a mere fairytale. In your eyes, god couldn't save the victims, so why rely on him?
It was ironic how you ended up at the very front row, eyes lowered and hands clutching onto your rosemary beads, listening to him preach about purity and faith as if he weren’t the one staining your thoughts with sin. The scent of incense and candle wax clung to your clothes, but all you could smell was the faint hint of bergamot and sweat from where Jungwon’s collar had dampened under the weight of the midday sun. His voice trembored through the chapel—soft yet firm, righteous yet hesitant—and you wondered if he practiced restraint the same way you did, biting down on the words that threatened to spill from his lips whenever your knees brushed beneath the pew.
But no, Jungwon would never. He was pure, a untainted soul wrapped in white cloth and devotion. Eyes too bright and words too gentle—your fingers twitched with the urge to ruin him. And yet, when the service ended and he lingered by the altar, wiping his brow with the back of his sleeve, it was you who felt unraveled.
And perhaps that was what you desired to be. Free of the sins that plagued you, free of the nightmares that clawed at your skin. The way Jungwon carried himself—soft spoken, delicate, yet unwavering—filled you with a hunger you couldn't name. You wanted to crack him open, to see if the devotion he wore so effortlessly was truly unshakable. If his soul would be your salvation, or your damnation.
"Sister,"
Jungwon's voice pulled you out of your thoughts and your head tilted up to gaze at him, lips parting ever so slightly. Rays of sunshine flushed through the colorful stained glass windows behind him, painting his silhouette in hues of gold and crimson—like a saint haloed by divine light. Yet the way his fingers curled around the edge of the pulpit, knuckles whitening, betrayed something else entirely. "You stayed behind again," he murmured, as if it were a confession.
You lowered your gaze, hands lowering from your chest—still clutching onto the rosemary beads as if it was the only thing grounding you. He was standing close, too close. You could smell the faint scent of soap mixed with something so uniquely Jungwon, and it pained you that you recognized it. To him, you were nothing more but a nun. A sister. Just another devout follower who sought solace in his words. If only he knew. "The sermon was… enlightening," you whispered, voice barely above the rasp of the wind against the chapel's old wooden beams.
Your eyes flickered to the cross laying comfortably against his chest, glinting under the sunrays as he stood up straighter. A small, dimpled smile appeared on his lips—your heart skipping a beat. Only god knew how much you desired them. Wished they would brush against your own, running down the soft of your skin, soft kisses pressing against the swell of your breast before reaching your center. It was a sinful thought, truly. But no matter how much you prayed, how much you devoted yourself to god, you would always be just this. A sinner.
Jungwon took a step closer, fingers twitching as if resisting the urge to reach out and touch. "You always listen so intently," he mused, voice low—barely above a whisper. His gaze traced the curve of your jaw before flickering back up to meet your eyes, darkening ever so slightly. "I wonder what goes through that mind of yours." The confession hung heavy between you, thick like incense smoke, and you wondered if he could hear the way your pulse stuttered beneath your skin.
The chapel was silent save for the distant creak of aging wood and the rustle of his robes as he shifted. His breath warmed your cheek when he leaned in, close enough that you could count the shadows his lashes cast along his cheek. "Do you confess your sins, Sister?" His words curled around you like a serpent, sacrilegious and sweet. You swallowed hard, your grip tightening around the beads until they bit into your palm. He knew. He had to know.
Had to know about the sinful thoughts that coiled in your mind like vipers, whispering blasphemies against his collar when he bent too close during communion. You inhaled sharply, catching the tremor in his exhale—so close now you could see the faintest fleck of amber in his otherwise dark irises. "Only to God," you lied, tasting the hypocrisy like ash on your tongue. Jungwon's smile didn’t waver, but his fingers tightened imperceptibly around the bible he held, the leather creaking under his grip.
The air between you thickened, charged like the moments before a storm. His thumb brushed against the edge of the rosary still tangled in your fingers, a touch so deliberate it couldn’t be mistaken for accident. "Strange," he murmured, voice dripping with something unholy, "how often you seek confession yet never kneel at the altar." His gaze dropped to your lips, lingering just long enough to scorch. You wondered if he prayed for forgiveness afterward, or if he savored the transgression like communion wine.
A bead of sweat traced down the side of his throat, disappearing beneath the stiff white collar of his robes. You imagined following it with your tongue, tasting salt and sanctity until he shuddered beneath you. The thought must have shown in your eyes—his breath hitched, fingers twitching toward you before curling into fists at his sides. "You tempt me," he admitted, the words raw, stripped bare of pretense. The admission hung between you, blasphemous as a scream in the sacred silence.
"Father—" You voice was shaky, your breath hitching when his hand finally, finally, reached out to cup your cheek. His thumb traced the swell of your bottom lip, pressing just enough to part them slightly. The contact burned like holy water on damned skin. "Would you absolve me?" you whispered, the words barely audible, laced with a challenge—or perhaps a plea. His breath stuttered, his pupils dilating as his gaze dropped to your mouth again, lingering there as if committing the shape of it to memory before damnation.
Your eyebrows drew together in the familiar ache that had filled the lonely nights of your nights. He stood so close, brown pupils meetings yours as if he could look directly into your soul. You knew it then, that he was neither salvation nor damnation. He was temptation, dripping from his lips like honey. His thumb pressing into the soft skin of your bottom lip had sent fire through your veins. It was unfamiliar—the way you leaned into his touch like a sinner desperate for absolution.
His thumb pressed further down onto your lip, brushing along the plump pink before slowly entering your mouth. A gasp left your lips as his thumb pressed down flat against your tongue, eyes moving over your face to gauge your reaction. The way he looked at you, eyes half lidded with that unfamiliar darkness within them had your knees cowering and you gripped together onto your rosary, holding onto the hope that this was a mere dream. Something far from reality.
But you knew you had lost the right to dream after the first time you'd drawn blood with your bare hands. The rosary beads dug into your palms like punishment as Jungwon's thumb pressed deeper, the pad of it rough against the wet heat of your tongue. You could taste the salt of his skin mingling with the metallic bite of your own arousal—sharp and undeniable. His breath came uneven, lips parted just enough for you to see the faintest tremble, and you realized with a sickening thrill that he was just as unraveled as you were.
The sudden sound of the chapel doors creaking open shattered the moment like fragile glass. Jungwon withdrew his thumb from your mouth with a sharp inhale, the wet sound obscenely loud in the sudden stillness. A parishioner shuffled in, murmuring a prayer, oblivious to the tension thickening the air between you. You swallowed hard, the taste of him lingering like sin on your tongue as he stepped back, the hem of his robes brushing your knees—a fleeting touch that burned hotter than damnation.
"I shall see you at vespers, Sister," Jungwon murmured, voice strained as he straightened his robes with trembling hands. His fingers lingered near his collar, where his pulse fluttered visibly—like a trapped sparrow beneath holy vestments. You nodded mutely, the weight of his thumbprint still pressing against your tongue, searing hotter than any branding iron. The parishioner knelt near the altar, oblivious to how the air between you crackled with unsaid sacrilege.
Back in your cloistered cell, you pressed your forehead against the cool stone wall, the rosary beads digging into your clenched palms. The scent of bergamot clung to your skin as if Jungwon had marked you without meaning to. Through the narrow window, the sunset painted the monastery walls the same crimson as his flushed cheeks when he'd pulled away. You wondered if he was pacing his own quarters now, bible clutched in white-knuckled hands, praying for deliverance from the very thoughts that mirrored yours.
You were sure that the thoughts flooding your mind were worthy months, if not years repenting—yet when the chapel bells tolled for vespers, your feet moved on their own accord, dragging you towards the sacristy like a moth to a flame. The scent of incense and candle wax wrapped around you again, but beneath it all, you swore you could still taste him—salt and sin, lingering like a stain no amount of prayer could wash away. The wooden pew creaked beneath you as you knelt, fingers clutching the rosary tight enough to leave marks, as if the pain could absolve you of the hunger gnawing at your ribs.
Your voice was shaky, almost inaudible as the prayers left your lips. "Lord, forgive me." You begged, your fingers clutching onto your rosary beads tighter—as if they could somehow cleanse the thoughts of Jungwon's thumb pressing deeper into your mouth, the way his eyes darkened with something unholy when he gazed at you. The chapel was silent save for the echo of your whispered pleas and the distant rustle of robes as Jungwon moved through the sacristy, preparing for vespers.
The scent of incense clung heavy in the air, thick enough to choke on, but it couldn't drown out the memory of his touch. You could still feel the ghost of his thumb against your tongue, the way his breath hitched when your lips closed around him—as if he were the one being devoured. The flicker of candlelight cast shadows along the pews, stretching and warping like the sins twisting in your chest. You wondered if he felt it too, this unholy hunger gnawing at his ribs the way it did yours.
The thought let fear flush through your chest. The idea of Jungwon—pure, devout Jungwon—feeling the same sinful pull as you was terrifying. You would've never forgiven yourself if you had corrupted him, if you had dragged him down into the depths of your own damnation. You would spend eternity in hell if it meant keeping him untouched.
Yet when he entered the chapel, the weight of his gaze settled on you like a confession. His robes swayed with each step, the silver cross glinting against his chest—but his fingers trembled around the bible he carried. You saw the way his throat bobbed when he caught sight of you, the flicker of hesitation in his stride before he forced himself forward. The chapel air grew thick with unsaid words, the scent of melted wax and guilt clinging to your skin as he took his place at the pulpit.
His voice, usually so steady when reciting scripture, wavered on the first verse. You watched the way his knuckles whitened around the lectern, the way his eyes darted to yours—just once—before he looked away, as if the sight of you burned. The parishioners murmured their prayers, oblivious to the way his breath hitched when you shifted in your seat, the rustle of your habit loud in the silence. You wondered if they could hear the unspoken blasphemy between you, if the saints in their stained-glass windows turned their faces in shame.
His sermon was shorter than usual, clipped and hurried, like he couldn't bear to stand in the sacred space with you any longer. Yet when the final hymn began, he lingered by the altar, his fingers brushing absently over the pages of his bible—as if seeking guidance, or perhaps forgiveness. You stayed seated even as the others filed out, your rosary beads digging crescents into your palms. The air between you thickened with every passing second, charged like the moments before lightning strikes.
Jungwon finally approached your pew, his footsteps slow and deliberate, the hem of his robes whispering against the stone floor. "Sister," he murmured, his voice raw, stripped bare of its usual serenity. His fingers twitched at his sides, then reached out—hesitant—to trace the edge of your veil where it brushed your collarbone. The touch burned through the fabric, searing into your skin like a brand. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way his jaw tightened as if physically biting back words that would damn him further.
The chapel was empty now, save for the flickering votives casting long, trembling shadows across his face. His thumb grazed your throat, pressing just enough for you to feel the rapid flutter of your pulse beneath his touch. "Tell me to stop," he whispered, but his breath was ragged, his pupils blown wide with want—a lie he couldn't even convince himself of. You arched into his hand instead, letting the rosary slip from your fingers to clatter against the pew, beads scattering like broken promises across the stone floor.
His lips met yours with the desperation of a drowning man gasping for air, his bible tumbling forgotten from his grip. The taste of communion wine lingered on his tongue, mingling with the salt of your skin as his hands gripped your waist through the rough fabric of your habit, hauling you against him. The silver cross around his neck dug into your chest, a cold counterpoint to the heat of his mouth—sacrilege and salvation twisted into one. Somewhere above, the saints in their stained glass watched, their faces twisted in silent judgment.
The chapel door groaned again, footsteps echoing through the nave, but Jungwon didn’t pull away—instead, his fingers tangled in your veil, yanking you closer as if he could fuse your bodies together and erase the sin of separation. You bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, and the choked noise he made was sweeter than any hymn. His hips pressed against yours, the evidence of his desire undeniable even through layers of holy cloth, and you realized with dizzying clarity that he’d been picturing this too, kneeling at the altar with your name like a prayer on his lips.
"Father—" you gasped against his mouth, but his grip only tightened, his other hand sliding down to grip your thigh through your habit, hiking the rough fabric up inch by agonizing inch. The footsteps drew closer, but Jungwon only deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a desperation that bordered on violence. You could taste the copper of his split lip, the salt of his sweat, the lingering bitterness of communion wine—each flavor a blasphemy that seared hotter than hellfire. When the parishioner finally rounded the corner, Jungwon tore away with a ragged exhale, his chest heaving as he kneeled down to lift up the bible he let fall, but not before you saw the way his fingers shook as they traced the smear of your saliva on the page.
The old woman shuffled past with barely a glance, her arthritic fingers clutching her rosary as she murmured prayers for her dying husband. Jungwon's jaw clenched as he stood, his robes falling back into place just as your habit settled around your ankles—both of you breathing like you'd run miles instead of barely touching. His gaze flicked to the woman, then back to you, dark with something unreadable. Without a word, he pressed the bible into your hands, his fingers lingering just a second too long, the leather cover still warm from his grip. "Read Proverbs 5:18-19," he murmured, his voice rough like gravel, before turning on his heel and striding toward the confessional, his gait uneven.
Your rosary lay abandoned on the pew, beads scattered like sins you could no longer count. The bible weighed heavy in your hands, its leather cover still humming with the ghost of Jungwon’s touch. You traced the embossed cross with trembling fingers before kneeling down, the cold stone biting into your knees as you flipped to the passage he’d named. The pages parted with a whisper, revealing verses that burned hotter than the candle flames—Let your fountain be blessed, and rejoice in the wife of your youth… let her breasts satisfy you at all times. The ink blurred as your breath hitched, the words twisting into something carnal, unholy.
Outside, rain began to patter against the stained-glass windows, distorting the saints’ faces into grotesque smears of color. You pressed the bible to your chest, the scent of aged paper and Jungwon’s bergamot clinging to the pages, and wondered if this was his confession or his condemnation.
As the moon found its highest perch above the cathedral’s spire, you crept barefoot through the cloisters, the rain-soaked stones slick beneath your heels. The bible trembled in your hands—still cracked open to that damning verse—as you pressed against the arched doorway of the confessional, breath shallow. Inside, Jungwon’s silhouette moved like a caged thing, pacing until his cassock whispered against the wooden walls.
His voice, when it came, was raw. "Did you read it?" The question hung between you like a noose. You exhaled through your nose, pressing closer until the worn leather of the bible groaned against the confessional screen. His fingers curled around its edge, pale against the dark wood, and you saw the crescent-moon indents his nails had left in his own palms—mirroring yours. "Every word," you answered, leaning forward until your lips brushed the lattice separating you.
The silence that followed was thick with the scent of rain and crushed rosemary from your discarded rosary. Then—a click. The confessional door swung inward, revealing Jungwon’s face half-shadowed by candlelight, his collar undone. His hand shot out, dragging you inside with a desperation that sent the bible tumbling to the floor. The door slammed shut behind you, trapping his exhale against your neck as he pinned you against the wall, his knee slotting between yours. "Then you know," he rasped,
His teeth grazed your pulse point—not a question, but an accusation. The confessional walls absorbed your gasp as his hands found the ties of your habit, fingers fumbling with a clumsiness that betrayed his inexperience. You arched into him, whispering the next verse against his jaw—be intoxicated always in her love—and felt the full-body shudder it wrought. His hips stuttered against yours, the hard line of him unmistakable even through layers of wool and regret.
"Jungwon," Your voice a mere whisper as the name rolled off your tongue, so new yet so familiar. Jungwon let out a shaky exhale, forehead falling onto your shoulder as his hands found your wrist, pressing them against the wooden wall with a gentleness that bordered on devotion. "You will be my undoing, Sister," he murmured, lips brushing against the shell of your ear—his voice breaking halfway, as if caught between prayer and plea.
Soft kisses wandered along your jaw down to your neck, his breath whispering against your damp skin as the confessional walls trembled from a gust of wind. His fingers tightened around your wrists—not to restrain, but as if he feared you might vanish like smoke from an extinguished candle. "Tell me this is a sin," he murmured against your collarbone, voice fraying at the edges. You gasped as his teeth scraped the hollow of your throat, your habit slipping from one shoulder when he tugged impatiently at the fabric. "Then absolve me," you breathed, lifting your hips to press against the hardness straining beneath his cassock.
The rosary beads scattered across the floor rattled as he crowded you harder against the wall, his knee pressing higher between your thighs. A broken noise escaped him when your teeth caught his lower lip—half prayer, half profanity—as his hands finally abandoned your wrists to fist in the loose folds of your habit. The fabric tore with a sound like rending scripture, exposing the flushed skin beneath to the candlelight flickering through the lattice. His palm slid up your bare thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh there as if he could brand the shape of his devotion into your skin.
The scent of incense clung thick to his robes when he pressed his forehead against yours, his breath uneven as he hesitated—as if giving you one last chance to push him away. You arched into him instead, sealing your mouth over his in answer, tasting the copper of his bitten lip and the wine-sweet guilt on his tongue. His fingers tightened almost painfully around your waist when you rocked against the hard line of his thigh, the rough fabric of his cassock rubbing delicious friction against the damp heat between your legs.
A strangled noise escaped him when your nails scraped down his back, catching on the wool of his vestments before digging in hard enough to make him gasp. "Tell me you've thought of this," you breathed against his jaw, nipping at the tendon there as his hips jerked forward involuntarily. You needed his confession more than absolution—needed to hear how often he'd touched himself imagining your mouth where his fingers now pressed against your damp underwear. The answering groan he muffled against your shoulder was answer enough, his cock twitching against your stomach through the layers of fabric.
Your hips bucked up against his fingers, the friction rough through the thin fabric of your underwear, and Jungwon’s breath hitched—halfway between a prayer and a curse. His lips trailed down your collarbone, teeth grazing skin as he murmured scripture against your pulse, twisting holy words into something profane. Your habit had long fallen scattered onto the floor as your fingers reached forward, working open the buttons of his cassock with trembling hands. The sight of his bare chest—pale and flushed with sin—sent your heart hammering against your ribs like a sinner at the gates of heaven.
You leaned forward, lips pressing gentle kisses onto his neck before leaving marks all over his chest. You were hungry, starved—as if Jungwon was the first meal you'd had in weeks, months, maybe even years. His kiss had been the beginning of your cannibalism.
His hands tangled in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp—a sound swallowed by the press of his mouth. His fingers tightened, dragging you closer until the sharp edge of his belt dug into your bare thighs. You could feel every ragged breath he took against your lips, could taste the wine he’d sipped during communion lingering on his tongue, could feel the desperate way his hips rocked against yours, as if he couldn’t stop himself.
His chest pressed against your bare one, silver cross brushing along your peaks while his fingers wrapped around your throat. The rosary beads scattered beneath your feet rolled like fallen stars as he pinned you harder against the confessional wall, his breath uneven against your lips. "I thought about this," he admitted, voice ragged, "when I blessed the wine—when I spoke God's name." His thumb pressed against your pulse point, pressing down just enough to feel the frantic flutter of your heartbeat as you arched against him. The candlelight flickered against the lattice, casting his face in fractured gold and shadow—half priest, half sinner, wholly yours.
The scent of incense clung thick between your bodies when he lifted you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the confessional bench. The wood creaked beneath your combined weight, the bible forgotten on the floor splayed open to that damning verse. His hands trembled as they slid up your thighs, fingers brushing along the fabric of your panties—already soaked through—before he tore them down your legs with a sound that sent heat pooling low in your belly.
"You taste like absolution," Jungwon groaned against your inner thigh, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there before his tongue laved over the sting. His grip on your hips was bruising as he dragged you to the edge of the bench, your knees falling open wider under his insistent hands. The first press of his tongue against your cunt had your back arching off the wood, fingers scrambling for purchase against the lattice screen as he moaned into you—the vibration sending shockwaves through your core.
You knew that what you were doing was sinful, unholy—yet as Jungwon's tongue delved deeper, tracing patterns that made your toes curl against the confessional floor, you couldn't bring yourself to care. Couldn't bring yourself to think about the years you had spent praying to god for forgiveness. Repenting for the lifes you had taken. It didn't matter to you—not when Jungwon was giving all of his life to you in this moment, his hands gripping onto your thighs as if you were the last thing tethering him to this earth. His teeth nipped at your clit, pulling a ragged cry from your throat—one that he quickly muffled with his palm, his own moans vibrating against your core as you writhed beneath him.
The scent of incense mingled with the musk of your arousal, thick enough to choke on—yet Jungwon only inhaled deeper, his breath hot and uneven against your soaked folds. His grip on your thigh tightened when you tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan—the sound muffled against your skin, but unmistakable in its desperation. His hips rutted against the bench beneath him, seeking friction even as he devoured you with single-minded devotion, his tongue lapping at your slick as if it were holy water and he was dying of thirst.
The confessional walls trembled from more than just wind now—your hips jerked against his mouth, toes curling as pleasure coiled tight in your belly, threatening to snap. Jungwon’s fingers dug into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, his grip possessive as he murmured your name against your clit like a sinner’s prayer—his voice ragged, reverent. You gasped when his teeth grazed that swollen bud, the sharp sting sending sparks behind your eyelids, your back arching off the bench as the first wave of pleasure crashed over you—silent but violent, your mouth falling open in a soundless cry.
He didn’t stop. His tongue worked you through the aftershocks, merciless, until your thighs trembled around his head, your fingers yanking his hair hard enough to make him groan. Only then did he pull back, lips glistening with you, his breath uneven as he stared up at you through lowered lashes—eyes dark with something between devotion and damnation. The silver cross around his neck swung forward, brushing against your bare knee, cold metal a stark contrast to the feverish heat of his skin.
You reached forward, gripping the silver chain to pull him up—not to stop him, but to taste yourself on his lips. You took the cross, placing it onto your lips before kissing him hungrily, his groan muffled against your mouth. The cold metal tangled between your tongues, blasphemous and slick, as Jungwon’s hands slid beneath your thighs to lift you fully onto the bench. His cassock rustled against the bare skin of your legs when he settled between them, his erection pressing against your stomach—hot and heavy through the layers of fabric.
Jungwon’s fingers trembled as they worked the buttons of his trousers, his breath hitching when your hands covered his to help. The moment his cock sprang free, he exhaled sharply—half relief, half terror—his forehead dropping to your shoulder as you wrapped your fingers around him, squeezing experimentally. His hips jerked forward instinctively, his teeth sinking into your collarbone to stifle a groan. “You’re killing me,” he gasped against your skin, his fingers tightening on your waist—as if he couldn’t decide whether to pull you closer or push you away.
Your thumb brushed over the slick tip, gathering his pre-cum from the slit before dragging your hand down his length—slow, deliberate, watching the way his lashes fluttered and his breath stuttered. Jungwon shuddered, pressing his forehead harder against your shoulder, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "God," he gasped, voice breaking, hips twitching forward into your touch. You tightened your grip, squeezing just enough to make his knees buckle—his cassock rustling as he swayed into you, his breath hot against your neck.
"God isn't here," you whispered against his parted lips, tasting the salt of his sweat as his cock twitched in your hand. Jungwon's breath hitched when you guided him to your entrance, his fingers trembling where they gripped your hips—halting you at the last moment, his forehead pressed desperately against yours. The unspoken question in his eyes burned hotter than the votives flickering behind the lattice screen. You answered by rocking forward, taking him inch by excruciating inch, the stretch bordering on painful as he groaned your name like a litany gone wrong. His hands flew to your waist, not to stop you but to anchor himself, his nails biting crescent moons into your skin as his hips stuttered upward involuntarily.
The confessional shuddered around you when Jungwon finally bottomed out, his choked gasp swallowed by your mouth as you kissed him through it. His fingers traced the rosary burns on your thighs—old scars from nights spent repenting—before gripping hard enough to overwrite them with fresh bruises. When you moved, his head fell back against the wall with a thud, his Adam's apple bobbing as he struggled to breathe through the pleasure. "Fuck," he slurred against your collarbone, the curse sacrilegious and sweet, his cock twitching inside you as his hands slid up to palm your breasts. His thumbs brushed your nipples, sending sparks down your spine that had you clenching around him, earning a broken groan that rattled the confessional door.
You rolled your hips experimentally, watching the way his jaw clenched and his grip tightened—as if he were hanging onto his sanity by a thread. Jungwon's lips parted in a silent prayer when you leaned forward to bite his earlobe, your teeth sinking in just as you rocked down harder, stealing his breath. His hips jerked upward to meet you, his cock dragging against that spot inside you that made your vision whiten. The silver cross swung wildly between you, glinting in the candlelight as it bounced against your sweat-slicked chests, metal slicked by your saliva.
If anyone had found you there, they'd have seen a priest clutching a nun like she was salvation itself—his cassock tangled around his thighs, his fingers buried in her hair, his mouth pressed to hers in a kiss that tasted more like damnation than devotion. Jungwon gasped when you rolled your hips again, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he muttered something between a prayer and your name, his cock twitching inside you with every sinful rock of your body. The confessional bench groaned beneath you, the sound drowned out by the slick slap of skin on skin and Jungwon's ragged breathing, his hands gripping your waist hard enough to leave fingerprints.
His silver cross swung wildly between your bodies, catching on your sweat-slicked skin as he arched up into you, his hips stuttering when you clenched around him. "Say you'll burn with me," he begged against your lips, his voice raw, his fingers trembling where they traced the rosary scars on your thighs. You answered by biting down on his lower lip hard enough to taste blood—his groan vibrating through your chest as you rode him faster, the heat between your bodies building like a pyre. Outside, rain lashed against the stained-glass windows, the storm drowning out the sound of your sins.
Jungwon's grip on your hips turned bruising when you leaned back, taking him deeper, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. His eyes—dark with something between reverence and ruin—locked onto yours as his thumb found your clit, rubbing rough circles that had you gasping his name like a prayer gone wrong. The silver cross around his neck swung forward, cold metal pressing against your flushed skin as his movements grew erratic, his breath coming in ragged pants against your collarbone. "I can't—" he choked out, his fingers digging into your thighs hard enough to leave marks as his hips jerked upward once, twice, before stilling—his release spilling into you with a groan that sounded like surrender.
You found your release moments after, clenching around him with a silent cry as he dragged his fingers through your slick to coax you through the aftershocks, his breath hot against your parted lips. The scent of sex mingled with incense—sacred and profane—as Jungwon slumped against you, his trembling fingers tracing the rosary scars along your thighs, pressing into them as if to overwrite the past with this new sin. Outside, the chapel bells tolled for vespers, their solemn chimes mocking the debauchery unfolding in the confessional.
Jungwon pulled back first, his lips swollen and bruised, his cassock wrinkled beyond repair—but it was the look in his eyes that undid you, something between terror and rapture, as if he'd glimpsed damnation and found it sweeter than salvation. His fingers trembled where they brushed your cheek, wiping away tears you hadn't realized you'd shed, before pressing a kiss to your forehead—a benediction or a farewell, you couldn't tell.
The chapel bells tolled again, closer now, and Jungwon flinched as if struck. He moved like a man possessed, buttoning his cassock with shaking hands while you retrieved your torn habit from the floor. The silence between you was thick with unsaid confessions, heavier than the scent of sex and incense clinging to your skin. When his fingers brushed yours as he handed you your rosary—beads still warm from where they'd pressed between your bodies—you both froze, as if even that incidental touch could reignite what you'd just extinguished.
And there you felt it again, your punishment. That aching poison tugging on your heart as the realization hit you—you could never be his. Not truly. Not outside these confessional walls. Jungwon turned away first, pressing his forehead against the lattice screen while his fingers tightened around his rosary until the beads groaned in protest. The flickering candlelight carved shadows beneath his eyes that hadn’t been there before, turning his face into something hollowed out by hunger.
Outside, footsteps echoed against the chapel’s stone floors, slow and deliberate—too close for comfort. Jungwon’s breath hitched, his eyes darting to yours in silent panic before he shoved the bible back into your hands, still open to that damning passage. “Go,” he whispered, rough and raw, his knuckles brushing yours in one last forbidden touch before he stepped back, his body swaying as if already missing yours.
The confessional door creaked open just as you slipped out the opposite side, habit hastily rearranged but still smelling of sin. You pressed yourself against the cold stone wall, heart hammering as the elderly parishioner paused—her gaze lingering on the trembling lattice screen where Jungwon now knelt, his head bowed in false penance. When she finally shuffled away, her footsteps fading into the nave, you caught his eye through the gaps in the wood—his lips silently forming your name like a curse he’d never shake.
Because despite everything he had been taught, the curse that held your name had corrupted every cell of his being. His mind, heart and soul so utterly devoted to you that it scared him. Scared him of what he would do, what he would sacrifice, just to feel your breath on his skin again. His fingers twitched around the rosary beads, his lips forming silent prayers that tasted bitter on his tongue—prayers for forgiveness, prayers for strength, prayers that he knew would never be answered.
"My lord," he whispered into the empty confessional, pressing his palms flat against the wood where your hips had left indentations moments before. The scent of you still clung to his cassock—salt and sweat and something darker—and when he inhaled sharply, his knees buckled against the kneeler. Through the lattice, he watched you disappear into the nave's shadows, your bare feet silent on the cold stone, your habit trailing like a ghost. Jungwon's fingers found his rosary tangled in the torn fabric of his stole, the beads sticky with your combined essence—holy and ruined in equal measure.
Truly you were his undoing, his own personal Lucifer—the apple that tempted him beyond reason. Perhaps that was why he still knelt there long after you'd gone, trembling fingers clutching his rosary like a lifeline while his mind replayed every sinful second. The chapel had grown colder in your absence, the candlelight dimmer, as if even God had turned His face from what they'd done.
Jungwon pressed his forehead against the confessional screen until the lattice left imprints on his skin, punishment for his trespasses. He deserved worse—deserved flames licking at his heels, deserved the taste of brimstone on his tongue—yet all he felt was the lingering warmth of your thighs around his waist, the phantom press of your teeth against his pulse.
In the hollow silence that followed, Jungwon understood that his true penance would not be found in the sting of a lash or the cold isolation of a cell, but in the enduring agony of memory. To love was to be flayed alive, and to desire was to be bound to a stake of one’s own making. This was the ultimate cruelty of their devotion: that every prayer he whispered from this moment forward would inadvertently carry the cadence of your name, and every sacred rite would be haunted by the ghost of your touch. He realized then that damnation was not a distant fire, but the slow, rhythmic ache of a heart that had tasted the divine and was now forced to starve in the dark. For a man of God, there was no punishment more absolute than the realization that he would gladly trade eternity for one more hour of ruin in your arms.
having your first time with sunghoon who just goes absolutely crazy over how innocent and nervous you are.....do you see the vision
Pairing :: sunghoon x reader
Genre :: drabble, imagine, smut
A/N :: My third eye opened up in my clit.. ANON I’M SEEING IT.
Tags :: established relationship, p in v, no protection, fingering, lmk if I missed anything!
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Sunghoon is a man who cherishes control alot. Be it at his workplace, his home, or with himself. He needed something to ground himself in order to function. The idea of not holding that control unraveled him in ways he wasn’t ready to acknowledge. Perhaps that was the reason as to why he was so addicted to you.
You made him lose control so easily, in ways that seemed to natural to you. He could laugh at himself at how easy he was undone by you. And you hadn’t even done it on purpose.
Nevertheless, he was still a man who cherished control. It meant taking things at a predictable pace, and with you—his sweet, little angel— he wanted to take all the time of the world. He wanted you to know how much he loved you. How much he craved you.
“Does this feel good, Beautiful?”
His voice was gentle, almost reverent as his fingers found your aching center, index and middle finger stroking gentle circles over your already swollen clit. The sensation let a gasp escape your lips, hands gripping onto the white sheets as your hazy eyes found his. Your pupils were blown wide and your lips, slick and swollen from your previous kisses, seemed to unravel him even more.
God, he had never seen someone as beautiful.
Sunghoon remembered the nervous shake in your breath as he laid you back onto the sheets, eyes flickering at his every movement as he undressed you. He was basking in your innocence, the armor of control he prided himself shattering with each breathy plea leaving your lips.
It was almost blasphemous, how easily you arched beneath his touch—like a prayer being answered in real time. Sunghoon’s breath hitched when your hips lifted off the bed, chasing his fingers with a desperation that made his pulse roar in his ears. "So eager," he murmured, dragging his thumb down your slit just to watch you whimper. The way your thighs trembled, how your fingers twisted into the sheets—it was obscene how much power you gave him without even trying.
His erection was straining against the fabric of his boxers, tip leaking with precum. His eyes wandered over you in adoration, peaks hard and slick with his saliva, stomach rising with each breathy inhale—your entire body flushed red like a canvas painted just for him. The moment felt surreal, almost dreamlike, but Sunghoon couldn't afford to lose himself yet. Not when you were still watching him with those wide, uncertain eyes, fingers twitching like you weren’t sure whether to pull him closer or cover yourself.
The tip of his middle finger found your entrance, pressing in just enough to make your back arch off the bed—not penetrating, just teasing, watching the way your lashes fluttered when he drew slow, deliberate circles around it. Your breath stuttered when his finger finally breached you, the stretch foreign and overwhelming, but Sunghoon didn’t let you retreat, his free hand splaying over your hipbone to keep you grounded.
“Such a good girl, taking my fingers so well,” He praised, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear while his fingers hit that gummy spot that left a string of moans leaving your lips. He closed his eyes, pressing gentle kisses onto your skin at those heavenly sounds—he would never be able to hear enough of you.
You could feel the outline of his dick against your thigh, brushing against your skin but not yet searching for friction. Sunghoon wanted to make sure you were ready for him—erase all the nervousity and doubts off your mind before making you fall apart under him.
“ngh— feels so good hoonie—” Your voice was a gentle whine as your hips bucked up into his touch, desperate for the friction that let heat pool low in your stomach. Sunghoon smiled at your movement, leaning up to gaze down at your face as he watched you with a certain kind of satisfaction reserved only for you.
His fingers curled inside you just enough to make your vision blur, that sweet, torturous pressure building until your thighs clamped around his wrist—instinctive, needy, like you couldn’t decide whether to pull him deeper or push him away. Sunghoon let out a ragged laugh, his breath hot against your collarbone. "Look at you," he murmured, dragging his tongue over your pulse point. "Already so tight around me, and I haven't even fucked you yet." The crudeness of his words sent a shiver down your spine, your moan dissolving into a whimper when he added a second finger, stretching you with a slow, deliberate push that burned in the best way.
Sunghoon’s breath hitched when your walls clenched around his fingers, your body reacting on pure instinct—unpracticed, untamed, and so fucking his. He could feel the way your pulse fluttered beneath his lips, your skin scorching under his touch as if you’d burn alive if he stopped. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he breathed, the words rough with need, his thumb circling your clit faster now, relentless, just to hear the way your moans fractured into gasps.
His control was slipping moan by moan and he hadn't even been inside you yet—something primal clawed at his ribs when your hips jerked violently against his hand, your orgasm crashing through you with a choked sob. Sunghoon watched, transfixed, as your back arched off the sheets, your thighs trembling around his wrist like you were trying to trap him there forever.
Sunghoon shuddered as he pulled his fingers out of your slick heat, the initial shock of your orgasm fading. He brought his glistening fingers to his lips without breaking eye contact, tongue darting out to taste you—watching the way your eyes widened in disbelief, cheeks flushing darker. "Sweet," he murmured, voice rough as he leaned down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. The moan you let out was muffled against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair like you were afraid he’d pull away.
"'M gonna fill up this sweet little cunt so deep," Sunghoon growled against your lips, his hands fumbling with the waistband of his boxers before kicking them off impatiently. The sudden press of his bare skin against yours—hot, unyielding—made you whimper, his cock sliding through your slick folds in a slow, filthy drag that left you shaking. He hissed through his teeth at the contact, hips jerking forward instinctively before he caught himself, veins standing stark along his straining length. "God, look how fucking wet you are for me," he breathed, thumb swiping through the mess between your thighs just to smear it over your trembling stomach.
He hissed as the tip of his cock entered your tight walls and you gasped loudly at the unfamiliar stretch, fingers digging into his shoulders. Sunghoon groaned, head falling forward as he paused, letting you adjust—but the way your body instinctively clenched around him had his hips jerking forward before he could stop himself, burying himself deeper with a ragged curse. Your sharp cry dissolved into a shaky moan, thighs trembling against his hips as he bottomed out, your warmth swallowing him whole.
"You gon' take me so well, baby," Sunghoon gritted out, the words ragged as his hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise. He'd meant to go slow, to savor the way your tight heat fluttered around him, but the second you whimpered his name—high-pitched and broken—his restraint snapped. His hips pistoned forward in a sharp, unforgiving thrust that punched a sob from your throat, your nails raking down his back as he set a punishing rhythm, each snap of his hips dragging a new, shattered sound from your lips.
There went his control—completely obliterated by the way your body yielded beneath him, your cunt gripping him like you were molded just for his cock. Sunghoon’s breaths came in ragged bursts, his forehead pressed against yours as he fucked into you with a desperation that bordered on madness. "Fuck—fuck—you feel too good," he choked out, his voice cracking when your walls fluttered around him again, your orgasm building so fast it stole the air from his lungs.
His moans were shameless, unrestrained—nothing like the composed man who prided himself on restraint. Every thrust unraveled him further, his hips moving with a frenzied urgency as if he could fuse himself into your skin. Your legs locked around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him deeper with each snap of his hips until the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. Sunghoon’s fingers dug into your thighs, leaving angry red marks as he chased his own release, his rhythm stuttering when your walls clenched around him in another trembling wave of pleasure. "Gonna—fuck—gonna come inside you," he snarled, the words barely coherent, his thrusts turning erratic, brutal, like he was trying to carve himself into you.
Sunghoon’s hips stuttered as he bottomed out inside you one last time, a raw, guttural groan tearing from his throat as he spilled into your trembling body. His vision blurred at the edges, muscles locking as he pulsed deep within you, the sensation of your walls milking him dry nearly knocking the breath from his lungs. You clutched at him desperately, your own climax ripping through you like a second wave—your cunt fluttering around him in erratic, clenching spasms that dragged another broken moan from his lips.
Sunghoon collapsed against you, his sweat-slicked chest heaving against yours, lips brushing your shoulder in shaky, reverent kisses as he fought to catch his breath. His fingers traced idle, possessive circles on your hip—like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you even now, even when his body was spent.
Your fingers trembled against Sunghoon’s back, still tracing the raised marks your nails had left, as if you were memorizing the damage you’d wrought on him. His breath was hot against your neck, uneven and ragged, his hips giving one last, involuntary twitch inside you—like his body wasn’t ready to let go. "Will never get enough of you" He breathed against your skin, your name leaving his lips like a prayer.
Sunghoon was a man who cherished control, yet as he lay tangled in your limbs, he realized that true power wasn't found in the rigid structures of his life or the cold precision of his workplace. It was found here, in the wreckage of his composure, buried deep within the warmth of the only person capable of unmaking him.
The silence that followed was thick with the scent of sweat and sex, the only sound the erratic sync of your breathing as Sunghoon rolled onto his side, pulling you against him before you could protest. His fingers traced idle patterns down your spine, possessive even in exhaustion, his lips pressing lazy kisses to your temple—like he needed to remind himself you were real, that he hadn’t dreamed the way you’d shattered beneath him.
But he knew he hadn’t. The evidence was smeared between your thighs, his release still dripping from you when his thumb swiped through it absentmindedly, drawing a soft whimper from your lips. "Mine," he murmured, voice rough with satisfaction, tucking your head under his chin like he could shield you from the world.
Tags :: religious setting (church, confessional, church roles, mention of god), angst, mention of killing/death/sins, toxic dynamic (both are borderline obsessed with eachother), improper use of cross necklace, oral (f recieving), no protection, semi-public sex, not proofread. Lemme know if I missed anything!!
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You were punished by love.
The deep, aching poison that crept up your veins until it reached your heart — pumping the deadly emotion through every tunnel, every tissue until your were completely and utterly corrupted by it. Perhaps that had been the reason for your fear. Allowing people to be close to you gave them the power to leave again and in this world, you could never allow anyone to hold such power.
Yet despite your caution, despite your hesitance, you found yourself completely and utterly enthralled with him. The dimpled smile comforted the agony in your chest, his gentle voice as he spoke out the prayers infront of the church community. He was everything you were not—pure, holy, faithful. You had spent your entire life building walls high enough to keep out even the most persistent invaders, yet he slipped through the cracks effortlessly, like water seeping into parched earth.
Jungwon was, what most people tend to call him, a saint. The flickering hope in the dark village that you resided in. Born as the pastors son, he had been raised with the scripture tucked under his arms and the lord’s name always at the tip of his tongue. He was the golden child—the epitome of everything you could never be.
He had stepped into his fathers footsteps young, silver cross resting against his chest as he preached sermons that sent shivers down your spine—not from fear, but from something far more damning. You watched him from the pews, fingers tightening around your rosary beads until the indents marked your skin. He was supposed to be untouchable, yet when his eyes flickered to yours mid-prayer, you swore they darkened with something unholy.
This was your punishment.
For all the lives that had ended by your touch, the fear that had sat deep in their guts at the mere look of your eyes. How ironic it was, that you—the one they whispered about in hushed tones, the one they crossed themselves at the sight of—now trembled beneath the gaze of a man who preached salvation. Jungwon's fingers, so careful as they turned the pages of his bible, had traced the edge of your wrist once when no one was looking, and the burn lingered like a brand. You wondered if he knew what you were, if he could taste the sin clinging to your breath when he leaned just a little too close during confession.
You had never been religious. Seeing human pray with all their effort for their sick loved ones or the small prayers that had left your victims lips before you had freed them from the torture of life had seemed ridiculous. What could god do when it was you who decided who lived and who died? You had felt superior to the entity, its entire being nothing but a mere fairytale. In your eyes, god couldn't save the victims, so why rely on him?
It was ironic how you ended up at the very front row, eyes lowered and hands clutching onto your rosemary beads, listening to him preach about purity and faith as if he weren’t the one staining your thoughts with sin. The scent of incense and candle wax clung to your clothes, but all you could smell was the faint hint of bergamot and sweat from where Jungwon’s collar had dampened under the weight of the midday sun. His voice trembored through the chapel—soft yet firm, righteous yet hesitant—and you wondered if he practiced restraint the same way you did, biting down on the words that threatened to spill from his lips whenever your knees brushed beneath the pew.
But no, Jungwon would never. He was pure, a untainted soul wrapped in white cloth and devotion. Eyes too bright and words too gentle—your fingers twitched with the urge to ruin him. And yet, when the service ended and he lingered by the altar, wiping his brow with the back of his sleeve, it was you who felt unraveled.
And perhaps that was what you desired to be. Free of the sins that plagued you, free of the nightmares that clawed at your skin. The way Jungwon carried himself—soft spoken, delicate, yet unwavering—filled you with a hunger you couldn't name. You wanted to crack him open, to see if the devotion he wore so effortlessly was truly unshakable. If his soul would be your salvation, or your damnation.
Pairing :: cowboy!sunghoon x wife!karina x citygirl!reader
Genre :: imagine, oneshot
Wc :: 9.4k
A/N :: This was supposed to be a hoon x reader fic, I ZAAWNNT KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, but I guess enjoy some Karina crumbs.
Tags :: not proofread, slight age gap (hoon and rina are like in their early thirties while reader is in her early twenties), Karina and Sunghoon are having a rough marriage, Jake is catching some strays, threesome, no protection, edging, oral (reader recieving), use of petnames (baby, Suga’, Darlin’), lmk if I missed anything!
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You were, to be quite frank, fucked.
Not just in a temporary, fleeting sense, but rather in a way that left your whole life upside down, and you didn’t know how to bring it back to how it was. So you did what seemed easiest, you ran away.
Maybe that made you a coward. A irresponsible adult that couldn’t live with the consequences of their own actions, but you never were one to pride yourself in your ‘responsibility’. You didn’t choose to become an adult, neither did you choose to fail your state exam.
Becoming a lawyer hadn’t been your dream job. If someone would’ve asked little you what occupation you would want, you would’ve answered with a toothy grin and ‘the best chef in the world’. But the world didn’t have space for such useless jobs, atleast according to your mother.
So you did what you were told, attended law school early — earlier than anyone in your state, got engaged to the son of the powerful Sim family, Jake, and acted like the little jewel your mother spent years polishing.
Until on that faithful day, you just snapped. With the immense pressure coming from both Jake’s parents and your mother, the constant need of attention from your fiance and the death of your grandmother, you handed in your state exam without so much but a single word on the paper before stuffing your overly expensive car full of your stuff and fleeing.
Thats how you found yourself in the middle of a bumpy street, car engine sputtering one last time before dying with a pathetic, metallic cough. The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the ticking of the cooling metal and the distant, lonely whistle of the wind through the tall grass. You rested your forehead against the steering wheel, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in your chest. Of course. You’d traded a life of gold-plated chains for a dead battery in the middle of nowhere.
Your heels clicked on the pavement, midday sun glaring down at you as you opened the car hood, only to be met with a pathetic puff of grey smoke and a smell that definitely didn't belong in a luxury vehicle. You stood there, squinting at the mess of wires and pipes like they were written in a foreign language.
You had never even batted an eye at the inside of an car. As long as it looked pretty and drove fast, you were sold. You could remember it like it was yesterday, the eye roll you gave the manual before throwing it into the trash. ‘I’ll never need it anyways’ you had laughed, knowing that if anything happend you would’ve just let your father call someone to fix it. You regretted your arrogancy now.
The rhythmic clack of hooves pulled you out of your thoughts, a sound so grounding and heavy that it seemed to anchor the very air around you. You spun around, hand shielding your eyes from the oppressive glare of the sun, half-expecting a hallucination born of heatstroke.
Instead, you saw a horse. It was a creature of pure, striking white, its coat gleaming like polished porcelain against the rugged browns and golds of the valley. But it was the rider who made your breath hitch in your throat.
He sat tall in the saddle, moving in perfect, fluid sync with the beast beneath him. He didn't look like the friendly, commercialized cowboys you’d seen in movies; there was a sharp, glacial edge to him. As he drew closer, the details sharpened: a faded denim shirt stretched across broad shoulders, dark jeans worn white at the knees, and a wide-brimmed hat tilted just low enough to shadow his eyes.
You knew you were here for some peace. To bake all the things your soul had longed to all your life, to eat some pie with a random neighbourly lady, to collect flowers and have them sit prettily on your counter. You weren't here for men, for dick. Hell, you've just gotten out of an engagement and you weren't even sure if your fiancé was aware.
But fuck, that man was sexy.
"You lost, Suga'?" His voice was smooth yet ever so slightly raspy, a hidden evidence of his late-night smokes. The southern drawl in his voice left a shiver run down your spine, making you straighten up, the silk blouse clinging to your skin with sweat. You swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat betraying your confidence. "No," you lied through your teeth, glancing back at the smoking wreck of your car. "Just... taking in the scenery."
The corner of his mouth quirked up, revealing the faintest hint of a dimple. "Mm-hm." He swung down from the saddle with an effortless grace, boots kicking up dust as he landed. Up close, he smelled like leather and something wild — sagebrush, maybe. "That your car?" he asked, nodding toward the steaming hood, though his eyes stayed locked on you, sharp and assessing.
You resisted the urge to fidget under his gaze. "Temporarily," you muttered, crossing your arms. The horse snorted, tossing its head, and you caught the gleam of a silver ring on the man's left hand. Married. Of course he was.
The realization that he was married hit you like a bucket of ice water, snapping you out of your momentary trance. It shouldn't have mattered—you were a runaway fiancée on the brink of a nervous breakdown—but a small, traitorous part of you felt a pang of disappointment.
"Well, 'Temporarily,'" he said, the southern lilt in his voice making the word sound like a melody. He stepped toward the car, his spurs jingling with every heavy footfall. He didn't ask for permission; he simply reached out and propped the hood further up with a calloused hand. "Unless you've got a magic wand hidden in that fancy purse of yours, this 'scenery' is gonna be your view for a long time. You've blown a head gasket, darlin'."
A groan left your lips and you let your head fall back, eyes closing in frustration. With all the stress from your situation, a blown car-something was the last thing you needed. You opened your eyes, brushing your hair back before turning to the older man, a frustrated and almost helpless frown on your face.
"And what do I do now?"
Your voice was a breathy mix of frustration and this pathetic, ego-poking helplessness. But when your eyes met his your frown stuttered. His dark orbs were staring directly at you, intense and unblinking, as if he were reading the fine print of your soul that you’d spent years trying to smudge out. The air between you grew thick, heavy with the scent of ozone and the heat radiating off the stalled engine.
"Well," he started, his voice dropping into that low, vibrato-rich register that made the hair on your arms stand up. He took a slow step forward, his shadow swallowing yours. "You could stay here and try to negotiate with the heat. But by the time the sun dips below that ridge, the temperature's gonna drop thirty degrees and the local wildlife’s gonna get real curious about the girl who smells like French perfume."
He leaned one hand against the frame of your car, effectively boxing you in without ever actually touching you. He looked at your trembling hands, then up at your eyes, his gaze softening just a fraction, enough to be dangerous.
"Or," he continued, "you can hop on the back of winter and come up to the house. I've got a spare room, a working kitchen, and a landline. My wife, she-"
He stopped, his jaw tightening for a split second as he looked down at the silver ring on his finger. The silence that followed was heavy, punctuated only by the distant lowing of cattle. He didn't finish the sentence about his wife. Instead, he cleared his throat and straightened his back, the "neighborly" mask slipping back into place, though his eyes remained dark.
The silence stretched out, becoming uncomfortable as Sunghoon stared at the horizon, his hand still resting on the silver band. Whatever he had been about to say -- My wife, she’d be happy to have you, or My wife can lend you some clothes — died in his throat, replaced by a bitter tension that hardened his features.
You hated yourself for it, but the cold expression on his face at the mention of his wife let this little, evil part in yourself laugh in satisfaction. Not because you liked to see him suffer — though you were sure he'd look to die for with teary eyes and a little frown — but no, it was rather the idea of him disliking his wife. The idea of you having a chance with him made you want to giggle evily, but you held yourself back. You didn't even know his name.
Almost as if he could read your mind he straightened up in a smooth movement, eyeing you up and down before landing back on your eyes "Sunghoon Park. My name." He said casually, as if he hadn't just gone from looking like a thunderstorm to a lazy afternoon sun. You swallowed thickly, his name tasting like whiskey in your thoughts—hot and dangerous.
"Y/N L/N" You introduced yourself, eyeing linger on his lips a little too long.
Sunghoon repeated your name under his breath, the syllables catching on that raspy edge of his voice. He didn't say it like the lawyers or the Sims did—like a title or a line on a contract. He said it like he was testing the weight of it, wondering if a name that sounded so delicate could actually survive out here.
"Y/N," he hummed, his gaze lingering on your lips for a second too long before he looked back at your car. "Well, young lady, decision's yours. Stay here and see how long that silk blouse keeps you warm when the coyotes come sniffing, or..." He shrugged one shoulder, the movement slow and deliberate. "Take your chances with me."
The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, part warning, part dare. You swallowed, glancing back at your useless car, its chrome trim now dulled with dust. The smart choice would've been to wait for roadside assistance, but you'd left "smart choices" behind when you drove away from the courthouse.
"Alright Cowboy, take me with you" With a swift movement you had your pouch and keys in your hand, gazing up at the horse skeptically. Sunghoon chuckled darkly, placing one hand on the saddle and extending the other towards you. His fingers were rough against your palm as he pulled you up effortlessly, his grip tightening just enough to make your breath catch when the horse shifted beneath you. The heat of his chest pressed against your back was unbearable, like standing too close to a bonfire, and you could feel the rhythm of his breath stirring the hair at your nape.
You felt like a little girl crushing on a older guy, biting your lip to stop the giddy feeling inside. The way his thighs rested beside yours, arms circling around your waist to hold onto the reins — he made you want to lay on your stomach and write into a sparkly diary. Or suck his dick. Maybe both.
Sunghoon clicked his tongue, and Winter took off at a steady, rhythmic walk. Every stride of the horse forced your body to roll against his, the friction of denim against silk sending sparks up your spine. You clutched the saddle horn, knuckles white, acutely aware of the way his calloused fingers occasionally brushed your thigh as he adjusted the reins. The scent of him—leather, sweat, and something earthier beneath—was dizzying, and you cursed yourself for noticing how his breath hitched when your hair caught in the breeze and brushed against his jaw.
The contrast was almost laughable. Here you were, a woman who had survived law school and the cutthroat social circles of the Sim family, feeling like a schoolgirl because a man with dirt under his nails and a wedding ring on his finger had pulled you onto a horse.
But God, he made her things Jake had failed to without even trying.
"Won't your wife kill you if she sees me sitting here?" You pressed intentionally, the little devil in your rubbing his hands together. The question hung in the air, sharp and jagged, cutting through the rhythmic thud of Winter’s hooves.
He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he pulled the reins a little tighter, the horse’s pace quickening as if he were trying to outrun the very mention of the woman waiting—or not waiting—at the end of the trail.
"My wife," he finally began, the words sounding like they’d been dragged over broken glass, "has a lot of opinions on a lot of things. But lately, she spends more time in the city 'finding herself' than she does lookin' at the man she married."
He turned his head just enough for you to see the sharp, bitter line of his jaw. The southern drawl was thicker now, more defensive. "So no, she won't kill me. She’d have to be home to care, and she hasn't been home for a week. We don't do much 'talkin' these days without it ending in a plate gettin' smashed or a door gettin' slammed."
The honesty was brutal, stripped of any chivalrous pretense. He wasn't some noble hero in a romance novel; he was a man holding onto a collapsing life with white-knuckled desperation.
"Besides," he added, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous rumble that vibrated right through your chest. "Even if she were there, I reckon I’m grown enough to decide who I pull out of a ditch. You worry about your own rings, Suga', and let me worry about mine."
As the ranch house finally loomed out of the twilight, a massive, beautiful structure of cedar and stone with a figure standing right by the porch. You squinted your eyes, trying to see if your eyes were tricking you, but the tired sigh leaving the cowboy's lips gave you all the confirmation you needed. Mrs. Park had decided to come back just when you arrived.
This was going to be fun.
The silhouette on the porch became clearer as Winter trotted into the yard. She was the polar opposite of the rugged, dusty landscape—a woman who looked like she’d stepped straight off a Seoul runway. She had bone-straight, ink-black hair that fell to her waist and a face so symmetrical it felt artificial. She was dressed in a crisp, white linen set that probably cost more than Sunghoon’s tractor, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watched the horse approach.
You felt Sunghoon’s grip on the reins tighten until his knuckles turned white. His chest, pressed firmly against your back, heaved with a sharp, weary breath. He didn't slow the horse down; if anything, he seemed to steady himself against you, his thighs bracing on either side of yours.
"Sunghoon," she called out, her voice high and sharp, cutting through the peaceful evening like a blade. "I’ve been waiting for three hours. Where have you-"
She stopped abruptly as Winter came to a halt. Her eyes swept over the horse, landing squarely on you—perched between her husband’s muscular arms, your silk blouse wrinkled and your hair a mess from the ride.
"Who is this?" she spat, the word dripping with a venomous condescension.
Sunghoon didn't move to let you down immediately. In fact, his arm lingered around your waist a second too long, a silent, petty rebellion that made your heart do a little somersault.
"Y/N L/N, your husband rescued me from the trail. You must be Mrs. Park." You flashed her your most innocent smile, but even a mole could've noticed the provocative glint in your eyes. Her lips twisted into something between a sneer and a grimace, like she'd bitten into a lemon while smelling rotten eggs.
Sunghoon let out a breath that was half-sigh, half-growl, feeling the electricity crackling between the two of you. He finally lowered you to the ground, but he didn't pull his hands away from your waist until your feet were firmly planted in the dirt.
His wife looked like a cold marble statue under the porch light. Her sharp, cat-like eyes flickered from your smile down to where Sunghoon’s tanned, calloused fingers were still brushing the silk of your hips. If looks could kill, you’d be buried in the south pasture before sunrise.
"Karina Park." The woman introduced herself, eyes stern as they landed on her husband’s hand still hovering near your waist. She pronounced her surname like a barbed-wire fence — something meant to keep trespassers out. The air thickened with tension, the scent of her expensive perfume clashing violently with the earthy musk of the ranch.
Sunghoon exhaled sharply through his nose, finally stepping back and wiping his hands on his jeans as if wiping away traces of you. "Her car broke down halfway up the ridge," he said flatly. "She’ll need the guest room tonight." Karina’s manicured nails dug into her own arms, her knuckles turning white under the porch light. "Funny," she said, voice dripping with something acidic. "Last I checked, we weren’t running a bed-and-breakfast."
"Oh love don't worry," You smiled, eyes glinting under the sunset "I won't be any problem, right Sunghoon?" Your hand found its way to his shoulder, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. Karina's nostrils flared as she watched your fingers curl possessively into the fabric of his shirt, the same way hers used to when they first married.
Sunghoon cleared his throat, his gaze flickering from your provocative smile to Karina’s icy stare. The silence was deafening, broken only by the sound of Winter pawing at the dirt. Finally, he reached up, and for a heart-stopping second, you thought he was going to push your hand away. Instead, his fingers brushed against yours—cold, calloused, and trembling just a fraction—as he stepped toward the porch.
"I’m too tired for this," he muttered, his voice raspy and exhausted. "Y/N is a guest. We treat guests with respect on this ranch, Karina. Even if we’ve forgotten how to treat each other that way."
The jab hit Karina square in the chest. Her perfect composure wavered for a split second, a flash of genuine hurt crossing her face before she masked it with a sneer. "Respect. Right. I’ll go prepare the guest room, then. I wouldn't want our guest to feel unwelcome in a house that’s still half mine."
She spun around, her silk robe billowing behind her like a battle flag as she disappeared into the house. The screen door didn't just close; it rattled on its hinges.
Sunghoon turned back to you. He looked older, the shadows under his eyes deepened by the yellow porch light. He stepped toward you, closing the distance until the heat radiating off his body felt like a physical weight.
"You like stirrin' the pot, don't you?" he muttered, his voice dropping into a low, vibrato-rich register that vibrated in your very bones. He reached out, his gloved hand coming up to tilt your chin toward the harsh porch light. His thumb brushed against your lower lip, the rough leather catching on the delicate skin. "That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble." The warning in his tone made your stomach tighten, but the way his gaze lingered on your lips told a different story—one where trouble might be exactly what he wanted. You parted your lips slightly, exhaling shakily as his thumb pressed down just a fraction harder.
The friction of the rough leather against your soft lip was a sensory overload—a harsh, grounding contrast to the silk and perfume of the life you’d just fled. Sunghoon’s eyes darkened, the pupils blowing wide until they nearly swallowed the irises. In the heavy silence of the plains, the only sound was the jagged rhythm of your shared breathing.
"I’ve spent my whole life being told exactly what to say," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind. "Maybe I’m tired of being a 'good girl', Sunghoon."
A muscle jumped in his jaw. For a second, he leaned in, his shadow completely enveloping you, and you could smell the intoxicating mix of horse, cedar, and the ghost of a cigarette he must have had earlier. He looked like he wanted to kiss you or shake you—and you weren't sure which one you wanted more.
Then, he abruptly yanked his hand away as if you’d burned him. He stepped back, the cold night air rushing into the space where his heat had been.
"You're a guest," he reminded you, though it sounded like he was trying to remind himself. "And I'm a man who's still wearin' a ring. Let's not make this mess any bigger than it already is."
---
The rest of the evening had passed in a blurr of Karina's glares and Sunghoon's silent, brooding presence. Dinner was a battlefield — silverware clinking too loudly, wineglasses filled to the brim, every bite of food tasting like sawdust on your tongue. Karina had sat at the head of the table, her posture rigid, while Sunghoon barely touched his plate, staring at the whiskey he wasn’t drinking as if it held answers. You, caught between them, had smiled sweetly and asked Karina how she liked city life, relishing the way her jaw twitched when you innocently added, "Must be lonely out here for you, when you’re gone so often."
And much to your surprise, you liked this. You liked being evil, though you did feel a sense of empathy with Karina. But after 22 years of acting like a good little princess so your mother could show you off, all you desired was to be bad, bad, bad—to feel the thrill of making someone squirm under your gaze, to push and prod until they snapped.
The guest room was immaculate—too immaculate. The sheets smelled like lavender detergent, the pillows plumped to perfection, and a single glass of water sat untouched on the nightstand. It was sterile, untouched. Clearly, no one ever stayed here. You traced your fingers along the dresser, smirking when you found a thin layer of dust. Karina hadn’t prepared this room, she’d merely opened a door. You wondered if Sunghoon noticed, if he cared.
Down the hall, muffled voices rose and fell in jagged bursts, Karina’s sharp, staccato accusations, Sunghoon’s low, rumbling replies. You pressed your ear to the door, catching only fragments: "—think I’m stupid?" "—just a stranger—" "—looked at her like—" A loud crash. Silence. Then, the unmistakable sound of a slap. Your pulse jumped, fingers curling into your palms.
Without thinking of the consequences you had made your way down the hall, leaning your head against the door frame while watching in amusement. Sunghoon was rubbing his cheek with his fingers gently pressing into the reddened skin while Karina stood fuming with tears in her eyes—beautiful even in her rage. You clicked your tongue, drawing both their attentions. "Trouble in paradise?" you murmured, trailing a finger along the doorframe. Sunghoon's eyes darkened, his chest rising with a sharp breath as he watched you, the air between you three crackling like a downed power line.
Karina whirled on you, her silk robe hissing against her skin. "This is none of your business," she spat, but her voice wavered, betraying the cracks in her composure. Sunghoon didn't move, his fingers still pressed to his stinging cheek, eyes locked on you with something between warning and hunger. You stepped forward, the hardwood floor creaking under your bare feet, your borrowed sleep shirt slipping off one shoulder. "Oh, but it is," you purred, reaching out to trace the angry mark on Sunghoon's jaw. His breath hitched, his stubble rough under your fingertips. "Looks like you hit a nerve, darling."
Karina made a sound like a tea kettle about to boil over. "Get out," she hissed, but you didn't miss how her gaze flickered to Sunghoon—waiting, hoping for him to defend her. Instead, he caught your wrist, his grip just shy of painful, his thumb pressing into your pulse point where your blood thundered. The silence stretched, thick with unsaid things, until Sunghoon finally growled, "Karina. Go to bed." The dismissal hung in the air like a guillotine blade.
The silence that followed Sunghoon's command was suffocating. Karina didn’t move. Her chest heaved, her eyes darting between the hand Sunghoon had wrapped around your wrist and the mocking, half-lidded expression on your face. You could see the internal war in her eyes: the urge to scream, the pride that told her to leave, and the desperate, territorial hunger that was keeping her rooted to the spot.
"Go to bed?" Karina repeated, her voice dropping to a jagged whisper. She took a step toward you both, her perfume — something expensive and floral — clashing with the scent of whiskey on Sunghoon’s breath. "You want me to go to bed so you can finish what you started on that horse?"
Sunghoon’s grip on your wrist tightened, but he didn't pull away. His gaze was fixated on you, his thumb still tracing the frantic beat of your pulse. The red mark on his cheek from her slap was darkening, a brand of his failing marriage.
"I think," you intervened, your voice a silky purr as you leaned closer into Sunghoon’s space, "that Karina is just upset she wasn't invited to the party."
The words hung in the air, charged and dangerous. Karina’s breath hitched—sharp, jagged—as if you’d physically struck her. Sunghoon’s grip on your wrist tightened further, his fingers pressing into the delicate bones, but you didn’t flinch. You just smiled, slow and knowing, tilting your head toward him so your breath ghosted over his parted lips. His pupils dilated, his chest rising sharply against yours, his pulse hammering where your fingers brushed his throat.
Karina’s laugh was brittle, shattering the tension like glass. “Party?” she echoed, her voice dripping with venom. But then, unexpectedly, her lips curled -- not in rage, but in something darker, more calculating. Her manicured nails tapped against her hip, her gaze raking over you with newfound interest. “Oh, darling,” she murmured, stepping closer until her silk robe brushed your bare leg. “Who said I wasn’t invited?”
Sunghoon’s grip on your wrist slackened, his breath catching audibly. You felt the shift in the room like a storm changing direction—the air thicker, charged with something far more dangerous than anger. Karina’s fingers trailed up Sunghoon’s arm, her touch deliberate, possessive, but her eyes never left yours. “You think you’re the first little runaway to catch my husband’s eye?” she breathed, her lips brushing your earlobe. “But you might be the first to catch mine.”
The shift in the room was instantaneous. The air didn't just feel heavy, it felt electric, like the moments right before a lightning strike hits the parched earth. Sunghoon was caught in the middle, his body a rigid pillar of heat, frozen between the wife he knew how to hurt and the stranger he was terrified to want.
Karina’s touch on your earlobe was icy compared to the feverish warmth of Sunghoon’s hand, which had moved from your wrist to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him. You were the bridge between them, the catalyst for a reaction they had both been too proud to spark on their own.
"Is that right, Sunghoon?" you whispered, your voice trembling with a thrill you couldn't suppress. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his dark, conflicted ones. "Is your wife always this... hospitable?"
Sunghoon’s jaw worked, his gaze flickering from your provocative mouth to Karina, who was now leaning her weight against his other side, her hand sliding up to the back of his neck, her fingers tangling with yours in his hair. The sight of his wife and this girl, touching each other while they touched him was breaking something inside him.
"She doesn't usually play well with others," Sunghoon rasped, his voice a low, guttural vibration that made your toes curl against the hardwood floor. He finally looked at Karina, his expression raw. "But then again, we haven't played at all in a long time, have we?"
Karina's answering smile was slow, predatory—like a panther circling wounded prey. Her fingers tightened in Sunghoon's hair, her other hand sliding down to trace the waistband of your borrowed sleep shirt. "Maybe I just needed the right motivation," she murmured, her breath hot against your collarbone. The scent of her Chanel No. 5 mingled with Sunghoon's cedar and sweat, creating a dizzying cocktail of lust and danger.
Sunghoon made a broken sound in the back of his throat, his calloused hands sliding up to grip both your hips as if anchoring himself between you. His wedding band dug into your skin, a cold reminder of the lines being crossed, but when you glanced down, you noticed Karina's left hand was bare—her own ring discarded somewhere in their crumbling marriage. The realization sent a dark thrill through you, your fingers curling into Sunghoon's shirt as Karina's nails scraped down your spine.
A gasp left your lips, mingling with Sunghoon's ragged exhale as Karina nipped at your throat, her teeth sharper than her words had been.
The sting of her teeth against your pulse point was the final spark needed to blow the heavy, gasoline-soaked atmosphere of the hallway into an all-out blaze. Sunghoon’s hands on your hips tightened, his fingers bruising the soft skin as he let out a low, rough groan. He was a man who had been starved, and between the wife who had abandoned him and the stranger who had invaded him, he was finally losing his grip on his own restraint.
"Bedroom," he rasped, the command thick with a southern gravel that made your knees buckle.
Karina's smile was predatory as she grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards the master bedroom while Sunghoon followed — hands moved down to the leather belt at his waist, fingers working the buckle with rough, impatient tugs. The metal clink of it coming undone was obscenely loud in the charged silence, punctuated only by the ragged hitch of Sunghoon's breath as he watched his wife drag you toward their marital bed, her silk robe slipping off one shoulder.
He threw the leather to the floor as they arrived inside the room, closing the door behind him while Karina already had you sprawled on the mattress—her knee pressing between your thighs, her manicured fingers digging into your waist like she wanted to leave marks. Sunghoon moved like a man possessed, stripping off his sweat-damp shirt in one rough motion, the muscles of his abdomen flexing as he climbed onto the bed, his shadow swallowing you both whole. The mattress dipped under his weight as he grabbed Karina’s chin, forcing her to look at him—his gaze burning with years of pent-up frustration—before he kissed her hard enough to draw blood.
"Such a pretty thing" Karina mumbled after they pulled away, gazing down at you, her fingers curling possessively around Sunghoon’s wrist—still bruised from gripping the reins too hard earlier.
You gazed up at the two of them, eyes glazed in lust and anticipation. Fuck, this was even better than just him alone.
The air in the room was suffocatingly hot, thick with the scent of cedar, expensive perfume, and the raw, electric charge of three people finally pushed past their breaking points.
Sunghoon loomed over you, his bare chest a landscape of lean, functional muscle. His skin was pale but dusted with a light sheen of sweat that caught the moonlight, his pectorals defined and hard as he braced himself on his forearms. Every time he moved, the serratus muscles along his ribs rippled like a whip. He looked down at you with a hunger that was almost frightening, his dark eyes fixed on the way his oversized shirt had bunched up around your waist, exposing the soft curve of your hips.
"Look at her, Karina," he rasped, his voice a low, vibrating growl. "Look at what we found."
Karina didn't need to be told. She was already hovering over you, her lithe, elegant body a stark contrast to Sunghoon’s rugged frame. She reached out, her long fingers trembling slightly as she finished unbuttoning the shirt. As the fabric fell away, her gaze raked over the slope of your breasts, her pupils so dilated they nearly swallowed the brown of her irises. She leaned down, her cool, silken hair brushing against your skin as her tongue flicked out to trace the hollow of your throat.
Sunghoon didn’t stay a spectator for long. He shifted, his heavy, denim-clad thigh sliding between yours, forcing them wide. You could feel the rigid length of him through his jeans, a solid, punishing weight pressing against your core. He reached down, his calloused thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at your center and applying a slow, rhythmic pressure that made your back arch off the mattress.
"You're so sensitive, Suga'," he muttered, his thumb circling relentlessly, slicking you with your own heat. He watched your face, relishing every hitched breath and broken moan.
Karina’s hands were everywhere—sliding under your back to pull you closer, her nails lightly raking over your skin, while her mouth moved down to capture a nipple. She sucked sharply, her tongue swirling around the peak until it was a hard, sensitive bud. The dual sensation—the rough, steady friction from Sunghoon below and the wet, demanding heat from Karina above—sent a jolt of pure lightning through your nervous system.
You reached up, your fingers tangling in Sunghoon’s dark hair, pulling him down. When his mouth finally met yours, it was a collision of teeth and tongue, tasting of whiskey and desperate need. He kissed you with a starving intensity, his tongue deep and demanding, while his hand moved from your hip to your breast, his large palm molding the soft flesh, squeezing firmly as if to brand you as his.
Karina shifted, her silk robe discarded on the floor, leaving her in nothing but her lace undergarments. She pressed her chest against Sunghoon’s back, her arms wrapping around his neck as she bit into his shoulder, her eyes never leaving yours. The sight of them—the beautiful, broken Parks—using you as the bridge to find each other again was intoxicating.
Sunghoon broke the kiss, his breath coming in jagged gasps against your lips. He looked at Karina over his shoulder, a silent communication passing between them that had been missing for years. Then, he looked back at you, his hand sliding down to the button of his jeans.
"I think it's time we showed our guest exactly why she shouldn't have stopped on this ranch," he whispered, the southern drawl thick and heavy with intent.
Karina’s fingers dug into Sunghoon’s shoulders as she reached past him, her manicured nails grazing your collarbone before tracing lower—down your sternum, over your ribs—until her palm pressed flat against your stomach. The contrast between her smooth, practiced movements and Sunghoon’s rough, impatient ones sent shivers down your spine. His jeans slid off with a rough shove, the denim catching on his boots before he kicked them aside, leaving him bare except for the silver wedding band glinting in the dim light.
The first touch of his cock against your thigh was electric, thick and hot and already leaking. Karina made a low, approving sound in the back of her throat, her breath hitching as Sunghoon reached back blindly to grip her thigh, dragging her closer until she was pressed flush against him—her breasts against his back, her teeth sinking into his shoulder hard enough to leave marks. "Look at her," Karina murmured against his skin, her voice dripping with honeyed venom. "She’s trembling. Do you think she knows what she’s gotten herself into?"
"Please," The words were shaky as they left your lips, your fingers clutching Sunghoon’s forearms as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against your slick entrance. His answering groan was ragged, his forehead dropping against yours as he hesitated—not out of reluctance, but to savor the moment, to watch your lashes flutter as Karina’s fingers dipped between your thighs, gathering your wetness before dragging her slick fingers up your stomach.
"Not yet," Karina breathed, both a tease for you and a warning to Sunghoon. It wasn't everyday that a thing as pretty as you landed in her arms, and with Sunghoon's cold demeanor after their endless fights, all Karina wanted to do was savor this.
Her fingers traced lower—down your ribs, over the soft dip of your waist—before slipping between your thighs to spread the slickness there, her manicured nails dragging feather-light against your oversensitive skin. Sunghoon groaned, his grip bruising on your hips as he watched his wife’s fingers work you with slow, deliberate strokes, her mouth curling in satisfaction at your choked whimpers.
Karina leaned forward, her lips brushing against Sunghoon’s jaw as she murmured, “You always were impatient,” before sinking her teeth into his earlobe—hard enough to make him hiss. The sound was lost in the sudden gasp you let out as she pressed two fingers inside you without warning, her palm grinding against your clit with ruthless precision. Sunghoon’s hips jerked forward instinctively, his cock sliding against your thigh, leaving a wet trail as he fought for control. His breath came in ragged bursts, his fingers digging into the sheets on either side of your head, the veins in his forearms standing out like cords.
You arched off the bed, your nails raking down Karina’s arm as she crooked her fingers just right, her thumb circling your clit in tight, relentless circles. The pleasure was sharp, almost painful in its intensity, and your vision blurred at the edges as Sunghoon’s hand wrapped around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, his thumb pressing against your pulse as if to feel the way your heartbeat stuttered under his touch.
The pressure of Sunghoon’s hand on your throat was the final anchor in a sea of overwhelming sensation. His palm was broad and hot, the silver of his ring pressing against your windpipe just enough to make every breath a conscious, desperate act. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with a heady mixture of possessive rage and newfound devotion, watching the way your eyes rolled back as Karina’s fingers continued their merciless work.
"Look at me, Y/N," he rasped, the command thick and heavy. He wanted to be the last thing you saw before you shattered.
Karina didn't slow down. She increased the pace, her knuckles rubbing against you with a rhythmic, wet friction that echoed in the quiet room. She leaned over Sunghoon’s shoulder, her breasts pressing into his back, her mouth finding the sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder. She tasted you, her tongue darting out to lick the sweat from your skin while her hand stayed focused on your core.
"She's so close, Hoon," Karina whispered against your skin, her voice a jagged melody. "Can you feel her pulse? She’s jumping for us."
Sunghoon let out a sound that was barely human—a low, vibrating growl of pure, unadulterated need. He couldn't wait a second longer. He shifted his weight, his thick, pulsing length lining up perfectly with your entrance. He didn't just slide in; he drove forward with a slow, heavy force that made your eyes fly open, your breath hitching in a silent scream against his palm.
The fullness was staggering. He was a man built for labor—thick, solid, and unyielding—and he filled you until you felt like you might break under the sheer scale of him. He stayed still for a moment, buried deep, his chest heaving as he fought the urge to lose himself completely.
"Fuck," he choked out, his head falling into the crook of your neck. "You're so tight... it's like you were made for this."
Karina didn't stop. Even with Sunghoon inside you, her hand stayed pinned between your bodies, her thumb still circling your clit with a ruthless, calculated precision that kept you hovering right on the edge of a cliff. She watched Sunghoon’s face—the way his features contorted in pleasure, the way he finally looked alive again—and a triumphant, dark satisfaction settled in her eyes.
"Move," Karina commanded, her voice dropping into a register that was pure authority.
Sunghoon obeyed. He began to pull back, almost entirely out, before thrusting back in with a powerful, rhythmic drive. The friction was dizzying—the internal stretch of him and the external, sharp focus of Karina’s thumb. You were caught in a pincer move of pleasure, your hands flying out to grip the headboard as your hips began to move in a desperate, frantic sync with his.
Karina leaned in, her breath hot against your ear as Sunghoon’s pace increased. "You like that?" she taunted, her fingers tightening around your clit just enough to make you whimper. "You like feeling him inside you while I control how much you come?" Her laugh was a dark, silken thing, curling around your senses as Sunghoon groaned above you, his hips stuttering when she tightened her grip on you further. "Look at him, he can't even last when he sees you like this."
Sunghoon’s rhythm faltered, his thrusts growing uneven as he watched Karina’s fingers work you mercilessly. His jaw clenched, sweat dripping from his temple as he fought to hold back—but the sight of you unraveling beneath them both was too much. His fingers dug into your hips hard enough to leave bruises, his voice ragged as he muttered, "Fuck, I can’t—" before cutting himself off with a sharp inhale. Karina smirked, her free hand sliding up his chest to pinch his nipple, making him jerk.
You arched off the bed, your vision whiting out as Karina’s thumb pressed down harder, her other hand suddenly gripping Sunghoon’s wrist to stop his thrusts—forcing him to hold still as she whispered, "Not yet." The denial was exquisite torture, your body trembling on the edge but denied release, your nails scratching uselessly at Sunghoon’s forearms. He groaned, his forehead dropping against your shoulder, his breath hot and uneven as he gritted out, "Let her come, Karina. Jesus Christ."
His wife clicked her tongue, raising a brow as if he'd just asked for the impossible. "So impatient," she murmured, her fingers slowing to a maddening, teasing rhythm—just enough pressure to keep you whimpering, never enough to push you over. Sunghoon's hips jerked instinctively, his cock twitching inside you as Karina leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. "Beg properly, sweetheart. Maybe then I'll let you both finish."
A desperate whimper left your lips, your hips jerking helplessly against Karina's cruel fingers. "Please—" you gasped, the word fracturing as Sunghoon bit down on your collarbone in agreement, his tongue soothing the sting. Karina's laugh was velvet-dark, her nails digging into Sunghoon's wrist where she still held him immobile inside you. "Louder," she purred, twisting her fingers just enough to make your thighs shake.
Sunghoon growled, his patience snapping as he wrenched his wrist free and slammed into you with a brutal thrust that knocked the breath from your lungs. Karina gasped, her control shattered as he flipped her onto her back beside you without breaking his rhythm, his hand fisting in her hair to drag her mouth to yours. The taste of her lipstick—bitter and floral—mixed with the salt of sweat as she bit your lower lip, her fingers wandering down to her own center, glistening with arousal. "Watch," Sunghoon ordered, his voice wrecked, his thrusts deepening as Karina’s fingers worked herself in time with his movements, her moans vibrating against your tongue.
You writhed between them, every nerve ending alight as Sunghoon’s pace turned punishing, his hips slapping against yours with a wet, rhythmic sound that filled the room. Karina’s free hand gripped your wrist, guiding your fingers to replace hers—her thighs clamping around your hand as she panted, "Make me come with you."
A loud moan left your lips at her words, fingers sliding into Karina effortlessly—so slick and hot it made your own core clench tighter around Sunghoon's relentless thrusts. She gasped, her head falling back against the sheets, her hips rolling to meet your touch as Sunghoon's grip on her hair tightened, forcing her to watch the way your body took him so perfectly. His free hand dragged down your thigh, hooking under your knee to lift your leg higher, angling you deeper, his groan guttural as he felt you flutter around him. "Fuck, that's it," he snarled, his voice raw as Karina's breath hitched, her walls tightening around your fingers.
The air grew thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the slide of bodies against sweat-slick skin almost too much to bear. Sunghoon's thrusts grew erratic, his rhythm faltering as Karina's back arched off the bed, her thighs trembling around your wrist. "Now—" she choked out, her nails digging into your forearm, and Sunghoon obeyed without hesitation, slamming into you with a final, brutal thrust that sent you both over the edge. Your vision whited out, your scream muffled against Karina's mouth as she kissed you through her own climax, her moans vibrating against your tongue as Sunghoon spilled into you with a ragged groan, his hips stuttering as he emptied himself deep inside.
For a moment, the only sounds in the room were the harsh pants of three spent bodies, the weight of Sunghoon's chest pressing you both into the mattress. Karina was the first to move, her fingers trailing lazily down Sunghoon's spine as she hummed in satisfaction, her lips curling into a smirk when he shuddered at her touch. "Still so sensitive," she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement, and you felt Sunghoon's breath hitch against your shoulder—half in irritation, half in reluctant pleasure. His wedding band was warm where it pressed against your hip, a silent reminder of the line they'd both crossed, but when you glanced at Karina, her dark eyes held no regret—only a hunger that hadn't yet been sated.
The silence that followed was heavy, a thick, syrupy quiet that felt almost as physical as the bodies tangled together on the oversized bed. Sunghoon remained buried deep inside you for a long moment, his forehead resting in the crook of your neck, his chest heaving as his heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. He was completely still, the rugged, stoic cowboy reduced to a man trying to find his footing in the ruins of his own restraint.
Karina, however, was already reclaiming her throne. She shifted onto her side, her long, dark hair splaying across the white sheets like spilled ink. She looked like a goddess of war surveying a battlefield she had successfully conquered. Her gaze moved from her husband’s trembling shoulders to you, her eyes hooded and dark with a predatory satisfaction.
"Look at you two," she whispered, her voice a low, melodic purr that sent a fresh shiver down your spine. She reached out, her fingers—still slick and warm—tracing the line of your jaw before moving to Sunghoon’s ear. "I haven't seen you this breathless since the day we said 'I do', Hoon. Maybe even before that."
Sunghoon finally pulled back, a soft, wet sound echoing in the room as he disconnected from you. He rolled onto his back, one arm flung over his eyes, his skin gleaming with sweat in the moonlight. The silver of his wedding band caught the light, but it looked different now—less like a barrier and more like a relic of a world that didn't exist anymore.
"Shut up, Karina," he rasped, though there was no bite in it. It was the voice of a man who had been thoroughly unmade.
Karina didn't listen—she never did. Instead, she swung a leg over Sunghoon's waist, her thighs bracketing his hips as she settled onto his lap with deliberate slowness. His breath hitched audibly when she rocked forward, her slick folds dragging against his softening length, coaxing him back to hardness with practiced ease. You watched from the side, lips parted as she lifted herself slightly, guiding him inside with one hand while the other braced against his chest—her nails digging crescent moons into his skin as she sank down inch by torturous inch. Sunghoon's groan was raw, his hands flying to her hips to steady her, his fingers pressing bruises into her porcelain skin.
The sight of them was so intimate, so raw. Your hand moved down your stomach, finding your clit as you watched Karina smirked down at her husband, rolling her hips with a slow, deliberate grind that made him hiss. His fingers tightened on her waist, but she didn’t speed up—she teased, her eyes locked onto yours as she murmured, "You’re just going to watch?"
The little devil in you was wide awake now—hungry and reckless—and you didn’t hesitate before sliding down Sunghoon’s body, your thighs bracketing his head before he could even process the shift. His groan vibrated against your core as you lowered yourself onto his mouth, his tongue already lapping at you with rough, eager strokes. Above you, Karina’s breath hitched, her hips stuttering in their rhythm as she watched you take what you wanted from her husband, her nails scratching down his chest before she finally lowered herself onto his length.
Sunghoon’s hands flew to your hips, his grip desperate as he devoured you, his tongue circling your clit with a precision that had your thighs trembling. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth on you mixed with the slick slap of Karina’s hips meeting his, her moans sharp and uneven as she rode him with ruthless efficiency. She leaned forward, her fingers tangling in your hair, tugging your head forward until her lips crashed against yours.
"Fuck-" You breathed against her lips, her tongue curling around yours as Sunghoon groaned beneath you, his stubble scraping your inner thighs while his tongue worked you open with the same rough efficiency he used to break horses. Karina’s hips rolled in slow, torturous circles, her moans vibrating into your mouth as Sunghoon’s cock stretched her with every downward grind. She broke the kiss only to gasp when he suddenly bucked upward, his hands leaving your hips to grip her waist—hauling her down harder, deeper, until her back arched and her nails dug into your shoulders.
The scent of her arousal mixed with your own as Sunghoon devoured you, his tongue flicking your clit in tight, rapid circles before plunging deep—his rhythm perfectly countering Karina’s, who rode him with the languid, predatory grace of a woman who knew exactly how to ruin him. You clutched the headboard for balance, your thighs shaking as pleasure coiled tighter, the wet slide of Karina’s body on Sunghoon’s cock mirroring the relentless drag of his mouth on you.
The bedroom was a symphony of friction and filth, the air so thick with the scent of sex and salt that it felt like a physical weight pressing down on you. Sunghoon was a man possessed, his head buried between your thighs, his tongue a hot, relentless muscle that left no part of you untouched. Every time he lapped at you, his beard stubble burned against your sensitive skin—a rough, grounding sensation that only made the pleasure sharper.
Above him, Karina was a vision of controlled chaos. She was riding him with a rhythmic, hip-snapping intensity now, her head thrown back, her throat bared to the moonlight. She looked down at the two of you, her eyes glazed and wild, watching her husband worship you while he filled her.
Sunghoon groaned, the vibrations of his muffled pleasure sending electric shocks up your spine. His hands gripped your hips tighter, pressing you down onto his tongue with a desperation that bordered on violence.
Karina's movements grew erratic, her breath hitching with each downward grind—her thighs trembled as she neared her climax. She reached for your hand, guiding it to her clit with a silent command. Your fingers circled her slickness in time with Sunghoon's thrusts, drawing a sharp cry from her lips as her hips stuttered.
"So fucking beautiful" You breathed, eyes raking over the way Karina's breasts bounced or the curve of her waist—every inch of her gleaming with sweat as she rode Sunghoon with frenzied abandon. Your fingers worked her clit with the same ruthless precision she'd used on you earlier, twisting just hard enough to make her choke out a sob. Sunghoon responded by digging his fingers into your thighs, his tongue thrusting deeper as if he could taste her through you—his muffled groan vibrating against your clit until you saw stars.
Karina's orgasm hit like a thunderclap—her entire body tensed as she threw her head back, her scream raw and unfiltered as she came around Sunghoon's cock. The rhythmic clenching of her walls dragged him over the edge seconds later; you felt his hips jerk beneath you, heard the wet slap of skin as he emptied himself inside her with a guttural curse. His mouth never left you, his tongue still circling your clit through the aftershocks until your own climax ripped through you—your thighs clamping around his head as you arched off the bed with a silent scream.
The aftermath was a tangle of limbs and labored breathing, Sunghoon's forehead resting against your inner thigh as Karina collapsed beside you, her skin flushed and glistening. She traced idle patterns on your stomach with one finger, her smirk lazy but triumphant. "You're both so greedy," she murmured, her voice thick with satisfaction. Sunghoon merely groaned in response, too spent to argue, his wedding band catching the light as he dragged a hand down his face.
The silence that followed was heavy and sweet, a thick, syrupy peace that felt like the first quiet moment the ranch had seen in years. The harsh discord of the past few hours—the bitter arguments, the biting sarcasm, and the desperate loneliness—had been burned away, leaving nothing but the raw, honest exhaustion of three people who had finally found a way to bridge the gap.
Sunghoon finally moved, his head lifting from your inner thigh with a slow, lingering reluctance. He looked up at you, his dark hair damp and plastered to his forehead, his eyes softened into something warm and liquid. Without a word, he shifted, crawling upward until he could collapse into the pillows. He didn't pull away; instead, he reached out and hooked an arm around your waist, dragging you firmly against his side. His skin was like a furnace, and his heart, still slowing down, thudded a steady rhythm against your shoulder.
"Pretty baby" Karina murmured, her voice a low, melodic rasp.
She didn't wait for you to move. She slid closer, her lithe, silk-skinned body pressing into your other side. She draped one long leg over yours and rested her head on your chest, her fingers tangling with Sunghoon’s over your stomach. For a moment, her hand hovered near his wedding band, her thumb tracing the silver edge, but there was no tension in the movement, only a quiet, mutual acknowledgment of the mess they were in.
Sunghoon exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening on both of you, his fingers flexing against Karina’s as if testing the reality of her touch. You could feel the moment he gave in, his entire body relaxed, his chin tilting down to press a rough, wordless kiss to the crown of your head.
As the first faint, grey light of dawn began to bleed through the heavy curtains, Sunghoon didn't let go, and Karina didn't pull away. They held onto you, and by extension, each other, with a quiet, desperate intensity, as if letting go would mean fading back into the hollow shadows of the house.
You closed your eyes, drifting in the warmth, no longer caring about the engine that wouldn't start or the path that led back to the city. The sun was coming up, and with it, a thousand questions you weren't ready to answer. But for now, in the half-light of a crumbling paradise, you were safe, you were seen, and you were exactly where the storm had meant to drop you.
Pairing :: Vampire!Hyung line + won x fem!human!reader
Genre :: Imagine, Pt. 2
Wc :: 5.6k
A/N :: ppl been requesting a pt. 2 so HERE UU GOOOO. I was unsure of what exactly the crowd wanted so i hope you like it chat.
Tags :: nsfw, not proofread, vampire!hyung line and jungwon, mentions of sunoo and niki (but no sexual acts described), mentions of blood, biting and bitemarks, 5some (sue me), p in v, oral (m recieving), no protection (AGAIN), lmk if I missed anything!
---
By now, not only you, but also your bestfriend believed you were going insane.
"Girl, maybe you drank after the event? Or maybe the heat in that venue just fried your brain circuits," your best friend sighed, leaning against the doorframe of your bathroom as you frantically tried to layer concealer over your neck.
"No! I'm telling you, I didn't drink! I don't even have alcohol at home! Also there's no mosquito who'd leave such marks" Your voice cracked, fingers trembling against your throat, pressing too hard into the tender skin. The concealer smeared, revealing two tiny puncture wounds, too precise, too close together to be anything natural.
A groan left your lips as you moved forward, smashing your head against the tiled wall in frustration. Your bestfriend quickly rushed forward, grabbing you by your shoulders "Okay! I believe you!" She reassured with a gaze that showed that she didn't believe a single word but lied to you in sake of keeping your sanity.
"Just, turn your mind off and enjoy tonight, okay? We've been hyped for this concert for months" your best friend said, tossing you a tube of liquid latex with exaggerated cheerfulness. You caught it numbly, staring at your reflection, the concealer had smudged into a sickly grayish streak, making the wounds look even more grotesque.
With a swift movement you tugged your hair infront of the bitemarks, hiding them from her. You didn't show her the marks. You couldn't. They felt too private, too heavy with the weight of that icy, supernatural heat. If you showed her, it became real, and if it was real, you were currently being hunted by the nation’s most beloved idol.
"Fine," You breathed, trying to smooth out the frown between your eyebrows before turning back to the mirror. The liquid latex felt tacky between your fingers, smelling faintly of chemicals and desperation. You spread it carefully over the wounds, layering until the punctures disappeared beneath the synthetic skin, though you swore you could still feel them pulsing beneath. Your best friend gave an approving hum, already scrolling through her phone, probably checking the venue’s seating chart again, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from your own reflection. The way your pupils dilated unnaturally wide under the bathroom light, like they were adjusting to something darker.
---
The concert hall throbbed with anticipation, thousands of fans screaming lyrics of songs Jungwon performed solely for them. The rush of performing had been one of the reasons he had chosen the life of an idol. Desperate screams, yearning for his attention made him forget about the dark that accompied his existence, even if it only ever lasted for a few hours. To an eternal being, those were the most precious moments.
But tonight, the thousand-watt stage lights felt dim. The screams of the crowd, usually a source of fuel, were just background noise, static compared to the singular, high-pitched frequency of a heart he recognized from a mile away.
His fingers twitched against the microphone stand, grip tightening as he inhaled sharply, there you sat. Third row, center-left. The scent of your blood, the same blood he'd tasted just two nights ago when hunger had overridden caution, punched through the floral haze of stage fog and fan perfume. His fangs pressed against his lower lip, sharp enough to draw a bead of black ichor he quickly licked away.
The members were doing a ment break, talking to fans through the microphones, but all Jungwon could focus on was the person who had managed to break his professional attitude. Sunghoon, who was standing beside the leader, let out a breathy whistle, gaze focus into your direction "She does smell good" He commented, microphone far enough from his lips so the crowd wouldn't hear the comment.
Jungwon send him a glare, sharp eyes turning crimson for a fleeting moment before masking back into their chocolate brown warmth for the cameras. "Relax, vampy," Sunghoon grinned, fangs flashing under the stage lights as he wrapped a heavy arm around the leader's shoulders "You're sharing with us, aint you?"
Your fingers dug into the seat cushions as Jungwon's gaze locked onto you again, a predator catching sight of wounded prey. "Oh my god, he's looking at you!" Your bestfriend gasped, shaking your shoulder like you hadn't noticed the way his pupils dilated like black holes swallowing light. The stage lights flickered, but in that split second of darkness, his lips curled back in a smile that showed too many teeth, a silent promise that made your pulse stutter violently under the tacky latex.
The collective roar of the stadium felt like it was receding, leaving you in a vacuum where the only sound was the frantic, uneven rhythm of your own heart. You could feel it, that specific, biological pull, as if a physical thread connected your pulse to the predator on stage.
Jungwon shook Sunghoon’s arm off with a jerk of his shoulder, his movements sharp and agitated. He stepped toward the edge of the stage, the light catching the sweat on his neck, making him look like he was carved from wet marble.
"I don't share," Jungwon’s voice came through your head, not through the speakers, but as a low, vibrating hum directly in your mind.
Your eyes widened. You looked around, but your bestfriend was too busy screaming at Jay’s fan service to notice your pale face. Jungwon was still staring at you, his microphone lowered to his side, his chest heaving. The black ichor he’d licked away had left a faint, dark stain on his bottom lip, making him look utterly debauched.
The moment the music kicked back in, the crowd exploded, but Jungwon moved differently. He wasn’t dancing so much as prowling. Every step, every roll of his hips, was deliberate. For you. The stage lights flickered again, and you swore you saw his shadow stretch unnaturally long across the floor, fingers elongating into claws before snapping back into place.
You knew fans were eating it up. The hunger, the desire. Believing every gaze was meant for them. It scared you how much you liked this, liked the exclusivity of his gaze, liked how you knew that it was you who was bitten by him, not anyone else.
The latex burned against your skin. It didn't feel protective anymore, it felt like a cage keeping your pulse hidden, keeping you from him. You hated that you wanted to peel it off, hated the way your fingertips twitched toward your throat as if pulled by an invisible string. Your bestfriend nudged you again, but you barely registered it, too caught up in the way Jungwon’s lips curled around the lyrics, his fangs flashing beneath the stage lights when he hit the chorus.
"No you don't get it, have you looked at Jay?!" Your bestfriend was ranting as you excited the concert venue, her hands clutching onto your elbow to stabilize her wobbling legs "I swear to god he smiled right at me!" You wanted to shake her, wanted to scream 'No, Jungwon was staring at me!' but the words stuck to your throat like syrup.
The crisp night air should've sobered you up, but the lingering scent of stage smoke and Jungwon's cologne clung to your sweater, making your head swim. You kept glancing over your shoulder, half-expecting him to materialize from the shadows, fangs glinting under the streetlights. Your bestfriend tugged you toward the subway station, oblivious to how every flickering neon sign made your pulse spike.
Then the hairs on your neck stood up, an instinctual warning. Across the street, leaning against a blacked-out van with tinted windows, Sunghoon smirked at you, one finger tapping against his lips in a mock shushing motion. Your breath hitched when the van door slid open just enough to reveal Jungwon's silhouette inside, his fingers curling impatiently around the edge before it shut again with a decisive thud.
Your bestfriend didn't notice your sudden stiffness as she rambled about Jay's bicep, dragging you forward until your shoes scuffed against the subway entrance's yellow safety line. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, bleaching everything in a sickly hospital glow that made your concealed bite marks throb. A drop of sweat slid down your spine, whether from the stifling underground heat or the weight of unseen eyes, you couldn't tell.
"Hey, I think I forgot my earphones inside. Its late, you should back okay?"
Your bestfriend stopped her rambling mid-sentence, blinking at you with a look of pure confusion. "Your earphones? Now? The venue security won't even let you back in through the front, and the subway is about to leave."
"I… I think I left them near the barricade. They were expensive, babe. Just go, I’ll take a taxi," you lied, the words feeling like ash in your mouth. You weren't a good liar, but the magnetic pull coming from the street was so strong it was making your skin itch.
"Fine, fine. Text me when you're home!" she called out, stepping onto the train just as the doors hissed shut.
As the train rattled away into the tunnel, the silence of the station felt heavy and suffocating. You didn't head back to the venue. Instead, you turned and walked back up the stairs, your heart thumping a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Every step felt like walking toward a gallows, yet you couldn't stop yourself.
The black van was still there, idling like a purring beast in the shadows of a closed-down convenience store. Sunghoon was gone from the exterior, but the side door was slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness inviting you in.
You crossed the street, your sneakers clicking against the asphalt. As you reached the door, a cold, pale hand reached out from the darkness, wrapping firmly around your wrist. You didn't even have time to gasp before you were yanked inside, the door sliding shut and locking with a heavy, electronic click.
The interior was plush, smelling of leather, expensive wood, and that sharp, ozone scent of a winter storm. You were pinned against the back seat before your eyes could even adjust to the dim light.
The van was larger than it looked from the outside, a mobile sanctuary of shadow and excess. As the locks engaged, the ambient noise of the city died, replaced by the low, steady hum of the engine and the terrifyingly quiet breathing of the men surrounding you.
"Look at her," Jungwon’s voice rasped, his hand still clamped around your wrist. He didn't pull you into a kiss. Instead, he forced you into the center of the u-shaped leather seating, putting you on display. "She actually came back. My little human is braver than she looks."
The interior lights flickered on, a dim, moody crimson that made the silver hardware on their stage outfits glint like knives.
"Pretty," Sunghoon murmured from somewhere behind you, his fingers suddenly tracing the edge of your concealed bite mark, too precise, too knowing. You flinched as the latex peeled away with a sticky sound, exposing the twin punctures that had started pulsing the second you stepped into the van. The wound wasn't healing. It was angry, red at the edges, as if your body was rejecting the closure it desperately needed.
A scared frown grew between your eyebrows as you looked around the hungry eyes gazing you down as if you were some little snack, a plaything they'd use for their entertainment before draining empty. Yet, your body wouldn't move. It was if you were frozen, their mere presences pinning you down.
Sunghoon’s fingers didn't stop at the mark. He hooked his cold hand around the back of your neck, his thumb pressing firmly into the hollow of your throat. He tilted your head back, exposing the raw, pulsing skin to the dim crimson light.
"Jungwon was right," Sunghoon whispered, leaning down until his nose brushed against the wounds. He took a long, audibly sharp inhale. "The scent… it’s like a fever. It’s making my gums ache."
To your left, Jay moved. A soft tsk left his lip as he leaned out of the shadows, sharp jawline lit up by the red LED light, elbows resting on his knees "She's terrified, Sunghoon. Stop playing with your food," Jay muttered, but his own pupils were blown wide, reflecting the crimson lights like twin pools of ink. You tried to swallow but Sunghoon's thumb pressed harder into your windpipe, forcing you to remain still as Jungwon finally stepped forward. The van's suspension creaked under his deliberate movements, slow, calculated, like a predator circling prey already caught in its jaws.
The atmosphere in the van shifted from predatory curiosity to a suffocating, collective hunger. Jungwon reached out, his hand sliding over Sunghoon’s on your throat, not to pull him away, but to guide your chin upward.
"Did you think," Jungwon murmured, his breath cold against your flushed skin, "that covering my mark would erase what happened?" His thumb traced the inflamed edges of the bite, pressing just enough to make your breath hitch. The pain was sharp, immediate, but beneath it something else pulsed, an unnatural warmth spreading outward like ink in water.
A gasp left your lips, eyes widening at the foreign sensation and a soft chuckle left Heeseungs lips. The oldest had been silently observing the entire ordeal, leaning against the opposite seats with a lazy smirk playing on his lips. His fingers twirled a loose strand of your hair as he watched your reactions with dark amusement "Oh this is just cruel," Heeseung muttered, tilting his head like a curious scientist observing an experiment "You didn't tell her?"
"Told me what?" You breathed, voice shaky as your teary eyes flickered up to Heeseung. You heard Sunghoon's amused chuckle in your right ear, breath icy against your burning skin. The two icy hands against your throat were making it increasingly hard to breath, your face reddening at the loss of oxygen.
Heeseung grinned, moving forward in a graceful, fluid movement to lean back against his haunches before tipping your chin to face him with one of his icy fingers. "That a bite from one of us isn't just a bite, pretty little thing," he murmured, his dark eyes flickering with something ancient and dangerous. "He practically claimed you."
The vampires words left a deep, sinking feel in your gut. The words hung in the air, heavier than the thick, ozonescented silence of the van. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic trapped bird, and you could feel the vibrations of it traveling through Sunghoon’s palm, still pressed firmly against your windpipe.
"Claimed?" you choked out, the word barely a rasp.
Sunghoon's grip on your shoulder tightened, tearing against the latex. A small drop ran down from the red marks and Jake lounged forward in a pace so fast you only noticed when his cold finger wiped the blood off your skin, his tongue driving along his index finger to taste your blood with a boyish grin.
"Mmm, definitely claimed," Jake purred, his pupils dilating as he licked the last traces of your blood from his fingertip. The van seemed to shrink around you as the others leaned in closer, drawn by the scent like sharks to chum. Your skin prickled under their collective gaze, somewhere between terror and something far more dangerous.
Jungwon's fingers tightened in your hair, tilting your head back until your throat arched taut. His fangs glinted in the crimson light as he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "You didn’t think it was coincidence you found our van, did you?" His voice was velvet-wrapped steel. "Your blood sings for us now. You were built to be found."
Heeseung chuckled as you shivered, nose brushing along the curve of your neck as Jake's hands found your waist, pressing you back against the leather seat. "Poor thing," he murmured, though his voice held no pity, only hunger. "Didn't even realize she was hunting us back." Your breath hitched as Jungwon's fangs grazed your pulse point, not breaking skin yet, just enough to make your blood hum in response.
The oxygen in the van felt thick, saturated with the scent of your own rising pheromones and the ancient, frozen musk of the five predators surrounding you. Heeseung’s words turned your reality inside out. You weren't a victim stumbling into a trap, you were a compass needle finally snapping toward its North.
"I wasn't… I didn't hunt you," you tried to protest, but the words were weak, dying in your throat as Sunghoon’s thumb rhythmically stroked the side of your neck, soothing the very skin he had been bruising seconds ago.
Jay leaned forward, the leather seat creaking under his shifting weight, his broad shoulders blocking what little light remained in the van. "That’s what they all say," he murmured, his breath unnervingly warm compared to the others'. His fingers traced the hem of your sweater, lingering where your pulse jumped erratically under his touch. "But your body tells a different story."
The air in the van became a physical weight, thick with the scent of unbridled hunger and the sharp, metallic tang of a fever burning through your veins. Jay's hand didnt stop at the hem, surging upward in a motion that let his large, calloused palm slide over the skin of your stomach, a shock of ice that made your internal muscles seize in a desperate, confused welcome.
"See?" Jay rasped, his eyes darkening until the brown flickered into a void-like black. "You're practically screaming for it."
Jake's eyes flickered to Jungwon, a impatient look on his face as his fingers gripped tighter into the flesh of your waist "How long do we have to wait?" He murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear with each word, his fangs grazing your skin just enough to tease. Jungwon's grip tightened in your hair as he exhaled sharply through his nose, his restraint visibly fraying at the edges like old silk.
Jay's hand pressed harder against your stomach, his fingertips dipping just beneath the waistband of your jeans, his cold touch making your skin erupt in goosebumps despite the feverish heat radiating from your core. You arched unconsciously into the conflicting sensations, icy hands branding your skin while your blood boiled with something primal, only to have Sunghoon yank you back by the throat with a dark chuckle. "Not yet," he purred, his free hand sliding up to cover your eyes, plunging you into darkness. "Let's see how well she listens when she can't see us coming."
The first lick against your pulse point was so sudden you jerked violently, unsure whose tongue, whose fangs, were tracing the throbbing vein. Then another mouth pressed against the opposite side of your neck, followed by sharp exhales of laughter as they toyed with you, their fangs grazing but never breaking skin. You whimpered, your hips lifting off the seat only for Jake's knee to wedge between your thighs, pinning you down with a growl that vibrated through your bones. "Patience," he murmured, though his own breathing was ragged, his grip bruising.
Sunghoon's hand slid from your eyes to your mouth, pressing two fingers between your lips with a command. "Suck," he ordered, his voice rough. The moment your tongue touched his skin, the van erupted in curses, sharp, ancient words that made the air hum with static. Jungwon's grip in your hair turned painful as he watched your lips wrap around Sunghoon's fingers, his pupils blown so wide his eyes looked black. "Fuck," he snarled, his hips jerking forward involuntarily, the hard line of his arousal pressing against your shoulder.
The cold material of the floor found your back as they laid you back, gazing down at you as if you were their most priced posession. Sunghoon's fingers slid from your mouth with a wet pop, tracing a slick path down your chin to your throat where Jungwon's bite throbbed angrily. Heeseung's fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head back further as Jake's knee pressed harder between your thighs, the friction making you gasp against Jay's palm now covering your mouth. "So responsive," Jay murmured, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip as if testing its softness.
To say you were overwhelmed would be an understatement. The scent of the vampires surrounding you, cold musk tinged with expensive cologne and something metallic, was dizzying, flooding your senses until all rational thought drowned in it. Your body arched against Jake’s knee instinctively, chasing the friction, and the answering growl from Jungwon vibrated through the floor beneath you. His hand clamped around your jaw, forcing your gaze upward as he leaned down, his lips finding yours in a kiss so deep yet it felt still restrained.
Heeseung’s laughter curled against your ear, dark and amused. "Look at her," he murmured, fingers tightening in your hair as Jungwon pulled back just enough to let you gasp for air. "She doesn’t even realize she’s been starving for this." Sunghoon’s cold fingers traced the edge of your top, peeling it upward inch by inch, his breath hitching when your skin prickled under his touch, not from fear, but anticipation. Jay’s hand slid from your mouth to your collarbone, pressing down just enough to make your pulse jump erratically against his palm.
Jake’s knee shifted higher between your thighs, the rough fabric of his jeans dragging against your sensitive skin until you whimpered, arching into the friction. "So eager," he cooed, fangs flashing as he grinned down at you. The van lurched forward suddenly, the engine roaring to life, but none of them so much as glanced away, their focus was absolute, unbreakable. Jungwon’s thumb brushed your lower lip, smearing the faint trace of black ichor from his own bitten tongue. "Taste me," he ordered, voice rough. "See what you’ve been missing."
A shaky whine left your lips at the command, half protest, half plea, but you obeyed, dragging your tongue along his thumb and tasting something darkly electric, like licking a live wire dipped in honey. Jungwon's pupils swallowed his irises completely, his fangs elongating past his lower lip as he let out a ragged groan that had the others pressing closer, their hands suddenly everywhere. The van hit a sharp turn, throwing you harder against Jake’s thigh, and you gasped at the burst of friction just as Sunghoon’s fingers finally tugged your top up past your ribs, exposing the flutter of your stomach.
The cold air of the van’s ventilation hit your exposed skin, but it was immediately chased away by the crushing proximity of five bodies. You were a drowning woman, and they were the freezing, beautiful tide pulling you under.
Jungwon’s fangs scraped along your collarbone, leaving behind a trail of fire that made your muscles lock. "She’s shaking," Jake murmured, pressing his knee harder against your core until you let out a punched-out moan. Sunghoon’s fingers dug into your hip, his thumb circling the dip of your waist with predatory precision. His cold lips wandered along the exposed skin on your stomach, tongue flicking out to trace the outline of your ribs as if savoring the topography of your body before devouring it whole.
Meanwhile Jay leaned down, pressing his nose against the inside of your thigh and inhaling sharply through his nose. "Christ," he muttered, fingers digging into your flesh as he groaned. "She's soaked through the fabric." His tongue flicked out to taste the dampness through the denim, the rough drag sending shocks of electricity up your spine. Jungwon snarled at the sight, suddenly pinning your wrists above your head with one hand while the other ripped your jeans open at the button, the fabric tearing like tissue paper beneath his strength.
Sunghoon's fingers replaced the ruined denim immediately, his long digits slipping beneath your underwear to stroke you with cruel precision. "Fuck, she's burning up inside," he murmured, fascinated, pressing two fingers deep without warning. Your back arched off the floor as a ragged cry tore from your throat, the stretch bordering on painful yet sending sparks through every nerve ending. Jungwon's grip on your wrists tightened as he watched Sunghoon's fingers move, his lips curling back to expose fully extended fangs dripping with venom.
The sound of your ragged cry was swallowed by the heavy, insulated walls of the van, lost to the roar of the engine as it sped toward the outskirts of the city. Sunghoon’s fingers didn't slow; they moved with a clinical, rhythmic cruelty, dragging a slick, heavy heat out of you that felt like it was being pulled from your very marrow.
"Look at her," Sunghoon whispered, his eyes glowing like predatory embers in the red light. "She’s so tight she’s going to bruise my knuckles."
Jungwon’s patience finally snapped. He didn't just want to watch anymore; the scent of your arousal, mixed with the sharp, metallic tang of the fever in your blood, had turned him into something purely animal. He shoved Sunghoon’s hand away with a territorial snarl, his fingers replacing his hyung’s with a bruising force.
"My turn," Jungwon rasped, his voice dropping into a register that made your bones vibrate.
Sunghoon just sat back, fangs exposed in a boyish grin as he looked right into your eyes while licking his fingers clean with deliberate, mocking slowness.
Jungwon didn't bother with finesse. He positioned himself between your trembling thighs, his marble-cold weight crushing the air from your lungs as he hovered over you. His eyes were no longer chocolate brown; they were two pits of obsidian, reflecting the absolute ruin of your composure.
With one hand still pinning your wrists above your head, he used the other to guide himself. He pushed in. Not a slow entry, but a singular, devastating thrust that bottomed out instantly.
Your back arched violently off the floor, mouth falling open in a silent scream as every nerve ending lit up at once, pain and pleasure indistinguishable in the white-hot shock of it. Jungwon didn’t give you time to adjust. His hips pulled back and slammed forward again, teeth gritted so hard his fangs drew blood from his own lips, dripping crimson onto your collarbone.
Meanwhile Heeseung moved forward, tapping the hollow of your cheek with his index finger while smirking down at you "Open up, pretty"
Your lips parted instinctively, too overwhelmed to protest, and Heeseung slid his cold tip past your lips with a satisfied hum. The taste was metallic and electric, flooding your senses like licking a stormcloud. Jungwon's thrusts turned punishing as he watched you suck obediently, his grip on your wrists tightening enough to leave bruises in the shape of his fingertips. Jake leaned in from behind Heeseung, dragging his fangs along your exposed shoulder with a chuckle that vibrated through your bones. "Look at her taking it all," he murmured, "like she was made for this."
Sunghoon's fingers returned to your clit, circling with cruel precision just as Jungwon angled his hips to hit that spot inside you that made your vision whiten. Your muffled scream around Heeseung made Jay groan, his hand sliding down to palm himself through his pants while watching you come apart. "Fuck, she's clenching like she's trying to milk him dry already," Sunghoon laughed, pressing down harder as your thighs trembled violently.
The sensory assault was total. Between the rhythmic, punishing depth of Jungwon’s thrusts and the electric, copper taste of Heeseung filling your mouth, your brain simply stopped trying to process reality. You were no longer a girl in a van; you were a vessel for their collective, ancient hunger.
"That's it," Heeseung hummed, his voice vibrating against your tongue as he watched your eyes roll back. "Good girl. Drink it in."
Jungwon’s pace became frantic, his movements no longer clinical but desperate. Every time he bottomed out, he felt the internal tremors of your climax beginning to build, a tidal wave of heat that threatened to melt his frozen composure. His obsidian eyes flared a jagged, predatory red as he looked down at your face, seeing the ruin of your makeup and the sheer, drug-like bliss written in the tension of your jaw.
Sunghoon’s fingers never let up, circling mercilessly as Jay whispered dark encouragements against the shell of your ear. "Come for us," Jay murmured, voice thick with restrained hunger. "Let him feel it." The order, wrapped in velvet, was impossible to resist. Your climax tore through you like lightning, your back arching violently as your muscles spasmed around Jungwon’s relentless thrusts. His hips stuttered in response, his control fracturing at the edges.
Jungwon’s grip on your wrists turned bruising as he pulled out at the last possible second, his fangs sinking into the soft flesh of your inner thigh instead. The pain was sharp, immediate, then molten, spreading through your veins like liquid fire. You gasped around Heeseung’s length, your body trembling from the dual overload of pleasure and pain. Sunghoon grinned, watching the leader bite into your flesh before following suit, his own fangs piercing the other thigh, dragging another choked cry from your throat.
Jay and Jake lounged forward, drawn by the scent of your blood mingling with the musk of your climax. Jake’s fangs grazed the same spot Jungwon had bitten weeks ago, the unhealed wound that had marked you as theirs and sucking greedily until your vision blurred at the edges. The van’s leather creaked under Jay’s grip as he watched Jake’s throat work with each swallow, his own fangs lengthening in response before biting into the thin skin by your wrist, a moan leaving his lips at the taste of your blood.
Heeseung withdrew from your mouth with a wet pop after filling you up with his cold release, his thumb smearing the remnants of your saliva across your swollen lips as Jungwon finally released your wrists. Your arms flopped bonelessly to the floor, the bite marks on your thighs pulsing in time with your erratic heartbeat. Jake lapped at the fresh wounds with feline precision, his tongue sealing each puncture as Jungwon straightened up, his chest rising and falling with uncharacteristic exertion. The van's interior lights caught the crimson streaks smeared across his chin, giving him a grotesquely angelic glow as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand
Sunghoon's chuckle vibrated through your spine as he dragged you upright by the hair, your oversensitive body jolting at the sudden movement. "Look at her," he cooed to Jay, who was methodically buttoning his cuffs with bloodstained fingers. "Still coming down and already getting wet again." The truth of it was undeniable, your thighs were slick with arousal and blood, the mingled scents making the air thick enough to choke on. Jay's nostrils flared as he leaned in, his tongue darting out to catch a stray drop sliding down your inner knee, his groan of approval sending fresh tremors through your exhausted limbs.
The van was a tomb of silence now, broken only by your shallow, hitching breaths and the rhythmic tick-tick of the cooling engine. You were a masterpiece of their making, flushed, broken, and marked in ways that would never truly heal.
"She’s full," Heeseung observed, his voice a smooth, dark nectar as he smoothed your hair away from your sweat-damp forehead. "Venom, blood, and us. She’s lucky her human heart hasn’t stopped from the shock."
Jungwon didn't say a word. He looked down at the hand-shaped bruises on your wrists and the overlapping bite marks on your thighs with a look of terrifying, quiet possessiveness. He reached out, his thumb catching a bead of crimson still sluggishly leaking from your wrist, and brought it to his lips.
"The ride's over," Jungwon whispered.
The side door hissed open, and the cold, sterile air of the underground garage rushed in, smelling of concrete and expensive oil. Standing there, silhouetted against the bright LED lights, were Sunoo and Ni-ki.
They didn't look like the bright, aegyo-filled idols from the stage. Sunoo was leaning against a concrete pillar, his head tilted at an unnatural angle, his eyes glowing a sharp, predatory amber. Ni-ki stood perfectly still, his hands tucked into the pockets of his black silk trousers, his gaze fixed on your limp legs as they dangled over the edge of the van floor.
As Sunoo's eyes flickered to your limb, exhausted figure covered in bite marks and smeared fluids, his lips curled into a slow, delighted grin, though his eyebrows quickly turned into a mock-frown "You barely left anything for us! That's rude." Ni-ki didn't speak, but his nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled deeply, pupils dilating to swallow his irises entirely. Heeseung chuckled from behind you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before murmuring "Don't worry, we saved the best parts."
The elevator doors slid shut with a heavy, final thud, cutting off the world of subways and best friends forever. Inside the small, gold-mirrored space, the air was suffocatingly sweet with the scent of seven predators and one fading human. Jungwon adjusted his hold on you, his fingers digging into the tender, bitten skin of your thighs as if to remind the younger two exactly who had claimed the first harvest. Sunoo leaned in, his face inches from yours, his amber eyes dancing with a manic, playful light as he watched the way your pupils struggled to focus. "She’s so pretty when she’s broken," he whispered, his tongue darting out to lick a stray drop of blood from your cheek.
Ni-ki’s hands, so cold they burned, slid beneath your knees, lifting you effortlessly from Jungwon’s grip, his grip unyielding as steel. "We’ll fix her," he murmured, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it, resonating through your ribs like a struck tuning fork. Behind you, Sunghoon chuckled, pressing his chin to your shoulder and inhaling sharply, as if savoring the scent of your unraveling sanity. "Oh, she doesn’t need fixing," he corrected, his fingers tracing the fresh bruises on your wrists. "She needs ruining."
