The silence of your room was broken by the almost imperceptible creak of a floorboard. You froze in bed, your eyes wide open in the middle of the night. From the darkest corner, where the shadows seemed to writhe, emerged a tall figure, shrouded in a black robe that trailed a silky echo. The mask gleamed in the dim moonlight and the streetlamp: spectral, rigid, and perfect..

You wanted to react, but terror dug your nails into the mattress.

In the blink of an eye, the figure moved with agility, with an artistic grace that, you thought, defied gravity. Sunghoon's weight fell upon you, crushing you against the sheets. Your hands tried to push him away, but he caught them mid-air with a single one of his own, interlacing his gloved fingers with yours and slamming them against the plush headboard. You were completely immobilized beneath his body. Through the empty sockets of the mask, you could feel his eyes fixed on you, devouring you.

"You've been running for so long..." his voice emerged in a slow, calm whisper. "Don't you get tired?"

The question hung in the air, its mocking weight only chilling you to the bone. Your mind collapsed in a vortex of panic, and a humiliating wave of heat escaped through your pores; you felt utterly exposed.

The rough fabric of his robe scraped against your thighs as he settled himself more comfortably between your legs, forcing them open completely. Fear paralyzed you, but the friction of his anatomy against yours ignited a spark in your belly that you hated to acknowledge.

Slowly, Sunghoon lowered his gloved hand from your jaw to your neck. His long fingers closed around your throat with excessive force, cutting off your air and forcing your lips open. Your chest heaved violently, searching for oxygen that he no longer claimed as his own.

The world around you was soon tinged with blurry lights, and your pulse pounded in your ears like a frantic engine. You felt death approaching, and at that precise moment, your body betrayed your logic, responding with a rapid, painful, and rigid erection that pressed directly against his pelvis.

Sunghoon noticed the bulge immediately. A low, husky, mocking laugh vibrated against your skin, coming from behind the mask.

"Would you do anything to live, doll?" he asked, tilting his head as he loosened the pressure on your neck just enough to let you draw in a shaky breath, only to immediately seal your lips with the palm of his hand. "I expect your answer to be 'yes.' Because from now on, your life belongs to me."

You tried to bite the leather of his glove, to let out a groan of protest, but he pressed harder, driving your head back into the pillow. He leaned so far forward that the cold plastic of the mask rubbed against your cheek, wet with sweat and pathetic tears, while his plastic lips pressed almost against your ear.

"By the way, don't be surprised if you see the house a little empty... murdering your family was... collateral damage," he said, with an indifferent laugh, so cruel it made your eyes twitch.

"They weren't important, you know? The only person I needed was you; they were just a nuisance." There was a short silence, your ears picking up the sound of his quickening breath. "I've spent entire nights right here.. watching you touch yourself, memorizing how you moan when you're alone.. the way you put your fingers in and squeeze your nipples.."

With an erratic yet expert movement, Sunghoon used the fingers of his free hand to rip your pants off in one swift motion, tearing the fabric along with your underwear.

Your bare skin was exposed to the room's chill, making your teeth chatter. He placed his open palm on your chest.

"Damn... I can hear your heartbeat," he growled, his tone becoming thick, almost animalistic. "It sounds like it's going to burst out... Fuck—I got so hard just thinking about it."

He dropped the knife beside the bed; he no longer needed weapons to torture you. His gloved fingers slid from your chest to your groin, enveloping your erect cock in a firm grip.

The rough, cold leather contrasted savagely with your heat, eliciting a muffled groan that died against his hand. Sunghoon began to masturbate you with a rapid, violent rhythm, deliberately seeking out the pain mixed with pleasure.

Your back arched involuntarily, your thighs trembled as he squeezed your swollen tip, and tears of frustration and stimulation overflowed from your eyes.

He gave you no respite. As his hand milked you mercilessly, Sunghoon stopped covering your lips, unbuckling his own belt. You heard the rustle of his clothing and, shortly after, the imposing heat of his own erection pressing against your thigh. It was completely hard, as rock-hard and hungry as the monster he pretended to be.

Without a single drop of lubricant, guided only by the saliva he wiped from the corners of your mouth, Sunghoon positioned himself. His hand went straight to the back of your neck, pulling your hair back to force you to look into the empty sockets of the mask.

"Look at me, whore," he ordered, his voice breaking with urgency. "Look who's going to deflower you, bitch."

Without warning, he thrust into you in one swift, violent stroke. The burning sensation tore through your belly, a silent, agonizing scream caught in your throat as your eyes opened wide, flooded with tears.

Your body tensed, trying to escape the invasion, but the grip on your hair kept you pinned to the mattress. Sunghoon let out a hoarse growl, pausing for a second to savor the extreme pressure of your walls clinging to him, before beginning to thrust with savage force.

Each thrust was deep, hitting your prostate with little resistance. At first, the pain took your breath away, but the constant friction and the searing heat of his body began to alter your senses.

There was a precise kiss, a touch that sent a jolt straight to your core, making you gasp in a way completely different from the previous ones. Your body, despite the terror, began to yield; the walls of your insides, overwhelmed by the invasion, began to secrete their own moisture, becoming extremely sensitive.

The pain tinged with an overwhelming agony of pleasure, a dirty ecstasy that shamed you but that you couldn't stop.

You felt the leather of his gloves digging into your hips, pinning you to the spot, as he positioned your feet against his shoulders. Your own moans began to turn lascivious, sharp, losing any trace of dignity in the darkness of the night.

You had never experienced anything like this; your complete inexperience worked against you, making each thrust feel three times more intense, pushing you to the limit of your own endurance in a matter of seconds.

You were completely defenseless against the overstimulation, and you were a damn pervert who loved to masturbate.

"Can't you be any more of a slut? You moan like an easy bitch, you'll probably come while I choke you, is that what you want, mm?" he declared, perfectly noticing how your legs trembled and how your walls tightened around him, completely lost in pleasure.

His hand closed around your neck again, squeezing tightly just as the rhythm of his thrusts had slowed, but they increased to that frenzied, unhinged movement.

The lack of air, the wild fucking, and that thick, veiny cock were too much for your virgin body. You couldn't keep up; the hypersensitivity betrayed you immediately.

Your eyes rolled back, lights flickered in your head, and much sooner than you would have liked, your body collapsed in a violent, premature, and uncontrolled orgasm, spurting sperm onto your own abdomen as your muscles contracted tightly around him.

Feeling and seeing your orgasm, Sunghoon let out a hoarse groan from behind the mask, thrusting before coming deep inside you, filling you with his thick seed that made you sob as you felt the hot liquid.

Sunghoon lay motionless over your body, trapping you beneath his weight as his heavy breathing hit the mask.

Slowly, he loosened the pressure of his fingers on your neck, allowing air to return to your lungs in desperate, noisy gasps. Your body continued to tremble in involuntary spasms, completely exhausted and submissive on the damp sheets.

Sunghoon slowly withdrew from you. The rustle of the fabric and his gasps marked the end of the moment, but not the hunt.

He didn't escape through the window as you imagined, nor did he leave you alone. He calmly walked to the bathroom in your room, as if he were already familiar with the place. You heard the water running for a few minutes as you tried, in vain, to regain control of your limbs.

When he returned, he carried a warm, damp towel. He sat on the edge of the bed and gently began to clean the traces of blood, sweat, and fluids from your thighs and abdomen.

His hands moved almost with devotion; you felt as if he were caring for you like his most prized possession—an object worth millions. You could only look at him through the tears that still blurred your vision, paralyzed by shock and the strange warmth of his care.

When he finished, he tossed the towel aside, made sure the room was completely dark, without a trace of light, brought his face close to the back of your neck, and through the fabric covering his mouth, placed a dry kiss on your goosebump-ridden skin.

"Sleep, I'll take care of the bodies. I'll see you tomorrow in class."

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

[ ͏ ͏] and Jake met young, two souls whose worlds were never meant to touch. He was a werewolf, intense, ruled only by instincts and the pull of the moon. {user}[ ͏ ͏] was human then, fragile in body but strong in mind. Jake’s love came like wildfire, so passionate, consuming, and utterly devoted.

For three years, lived in that fire together, learning to tame the beast which was unleashed in Jake by any minimal interaction—maximum possessiveness—and finding warmth in arms.

When Jake bonded with [ ͏ ͏], the werewolf’s sacred act, it wasn’t just a mere symbol of 'true love'.

His bite; deep, deliberate, tied their souls together. Werewolves bond once in their lives; it is a sacred promise that endures until death. [ ͏ ͏] felt his heartbeat become theirs, his instincts merge with their emotions.

For Jake, that bond meant forever.

Then came the accident.

[ ͏ ͏] remembered the sound of metal crushing, the scent of blood, and the fading light in their vision.

Jake arrived too late, only in time to see [ ͏ ͏]’s lifeless body being wheeled away. The bond shattered in him like glass.

A werewolf’s bond doesn’t simply vanish; it tears the very soul apart. He howled in grief that night, his chest heavy with a pain that would never fade, his nails scratching every surface, including his own skin.

Sunghoon, [ ͏ ͏]’s best friend. the one who had always harbored quiet affection, couldn’t bear it.

He was there in the hospital, watching Jake crumble, watching [ ͏ ͏] grow distant, cold, a vegetable.

When the nurse left the room, he made his choice.

Jake followed too late.

By the time he entered, Sunghoon’s fangs were already sunk deep into [ ͏ ͏]’s neck, wrists, and legs. Jake’s fury erupted, he struck Sunghoon, shouting, accusing him of desecrating the body of the person he loved.

But then, seconds and minutes that seemed like an eternity, Sunghoon pointed to [ ͏ ͏].

They moved, barely a small spasm in the fingers.

[ ͏ ͏]’s body shivered, their skin changed, and their once-human eyes opened, blood-red and alive again.

Jake froze.

His grief turned to disbelief, fear, anger, then heartbreak. [ ͏ ͏] had returned... but not as the person he knew.

They were now a vampire, [ ͏ ͏] became what his entire pack—and even books full of traditions—asked, demanded him to hate.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏⎯

The first days were chaos. Jake’s instincts warred with his love. He wanted to protect [ ͏ ͏], yet feared they might hurt someone, or themselves.

[ ͏ ͏]’s hunger was uncontrollable; their eyes turned black with the thirst for blood, even if it were a tiny drop, even if it were running through the veins of anything human.

Jake refused to let them leave the house.

They fought, shouted, even wept. But each time [ ͏ ͏] fell apart, he was there, holding them until the hunger passed, until those moments of self-hatred passed.

When [ ͏ ͏] finally hunted, Jake guided them, finding secluded places, staying close to keep others safe. He watched with quiet awe and silent horror, knowing the one he loved was now something.. immortal, a monster, like him.

The bite they once shared, the bond that had connected them when they were both human and wolf, changed. Jake could feel it.

His wolf sensed that [ ͏ ͏]’s soul had shifted: colder, yet sharper, endless.

The bond was still there, but altered.

It throbbed differently in his chest, no longer pulsing with life, but humming like something ancient. It made him feel both closer to them and unbearably small in comparison.

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏⎯

The first months were hard. Arguments came often, both adjusting to their new instincts and rituals. But their love endured, surviving even their worst fears.

And then, one night beneath the same stars that had witnessed their first kiss, Jake proposed.

He didn’t do it with grand speeches, just a trembling voice, a ring, tons of sweat and a whisper.

“You’re my forever, no matter what you are.”

The wedding was small, hidden from human-wolf-vampire eyes. It took place in the forest where Jake first confessed his love. The air shimmered with moonlight, their vows echoing in both languages, the old tongue of wolves and the soft cadence of vampires.

And, when Jake kissed [ ͏ ͏], it felt like the bond reignited, eternally.

Their honeymoon was an escape, an island where time seemed to pause.

They walked under the moonlight, [ ͏ ͏]’s hand in his, their skin pale and unchanging against his warmth.

It was perfect, fleeting, and achingly mortal.

But after the celebrations faded, reality returned.

Jake began to age.

Slowly, imperceptibly at first, a wrinkle by his eyes, a strand of silver in his hair.

Werewolves live longer than humans, yes, sometimes up to two centuries, their bodies sustained by primal energy.

Yet to [ ͏ ͏]; immortal, ageless, each sign of his aging felt like a countdown.

He laughed when [ ͏ ͏] brought it up, brushing it away with a grin and a kiss.

“I’ll still be yours, even when I’m bones.”

But [ ͏ ͏] couldn’t shake the thought.

While he would grow old, they would remain the same; the same face, the same body, untouched by time. The thought of watching him fade filled [ ͏ ͏] with quiet dread.

Sometimes, when Jake was asleep beside them, his warmth pressed against their cold skin, [ ͏ ͏] would look at him and cry silently—as if they could, knowing that eternity meant nothing without him.

Jake, ever perceptive, sensed it.

One night, he cupped their face in his rough, scarred hands and whispered: “Don’t mourn me before I’m gone. You’ve given me more life than I ever thought I’d have.”

[ ͏ ͏] smiled, but deep down, the truth lingered, one day, he would be gone, and they would remain. The werewolf’s love would end with time, but [ ͏ ͏]’s would stretch on, eternal, endless, and aching for the warmth that once held it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

Suddenly, just before Heeseung could reach his vehicle, the tinted SUV door swung open.

Through the lights and the haze created by engine heat and the cold night air, Alex appeared—an ethereal mix of calm and natural allure. His hair danced with the wind, and a faint smile curved his lips as he saw him.

Heeseung stopped in his tracks. His expression shifted, almost imperceptibly at first, until a genuine smile—one that no one else could ever elicit—touched his face, accompanied by the subtle widening of his eyes, giving them a rare glimmer.

Ignoring the shouts of photographers and the cameras aimed in his direction, he stepped forward and opened his arms.

"My precious angel…" His voice was low, intimate, almost as if he were seeing God, as if the rest of the world had vanished the moment he caught the unique scent of his love.

Alex simply laughed, that soft laugh that made him weak, and let himself be enveloped. Heeseung moved closer, urgent, pulling him to his chest, burying his face in his neck and inhaling his scent with a sigh. He lifted him slightly, turned him once, and gently lowered him again, never letting go of his waist.

The photographers went wild; the flashes created a storm of artificially white light around them.

Heeseung rolled his eyes at the repeated clicks, exhaled with annoyance, and murmured, barely audible amid all the noise:

"Let’s go now, my love… You don’t know how much I longed to have you with me."

Alex smiled against his ear, letting his lips brush his skin.

"Let’s go, sweetheart. I missed you soooo much too."

As soon as the door closed, the world went dark for them.

Some reporters kept pounding and shouting against the tinted windows, like a relentless downpour.

Inside, there was only the soft hum of the engine and the ragged breathing of both.

Heeseung leaned back in the seat, still with a hand on Alex’s waist, stupidly afraid he might disappear. His fingers traced slow circles over the silk of Alex’s shirt—the fabric Heeseung simply loved to see on his beloved, the gesture of a man who had waited too long and lived alongside his own shadow.

“Do you know how many times I missed you tonight, my angel?” he murmured, his voice low, warm.

Alex smiled, turning his face just slightly toward him.

“Mmm… enough to fill my notifications with messages and calls every second?”

Heeseung let out a soft laugh. Not mocking, but one of surrender, a confession of what he’d endured to hold himself together as long as he could.

“What’s 500 calls in less than two hours, hmm?” His eyes traced him slowly, lingering on his mouth. “I thought seeing a picture of you would be enough to drive me insane, but… you can’t just show up like this without warning and expect me to stay inside my fragile little boxes.”

Alex tilted his head, leaning in close enough that the air between them grew heavy, warm, tense.

“I didn’t come here to keep you sane, love…” he whispered, and Heeseung responded with a soft gasp, a brief brush, barely a kiss—more temptation than contact.

The driver, uneasy and aware of what was happening behind him, averted his gaze forward, pretending not to hear anything.

Heeseung, without letting go, drew him closer, pressing his forehead against Alex’s.

“One more second, and I would’ve gone feral without touching you.”

Alex let out a soft laugh, scrunching his nose slightly.

“Then I arrived just in time, didn’t I?"

⸺ ⠀ 𝑐꯭𝑟꯭𝑒꯭𝑑𝑖꯭𝑡𝑠 @angelsfat3.

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ㅤㅤㅤㅤ(ㅤ𝑓ollowㅤ ㅤ，ㅤㅤ #𝖫𝖨𝖪𝖤! )