#im thinking about starting to write a little something something
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headcannons about idia who’s head over heels in love with yuu ever since the orientation ceremony (he’s such a dork your honor)
Of course they get closer over time as the story progresses ^~^
also I just wanted to say your works r so cute and unique along with how you write them!! You truly do capture the essence of the characters even when the stories r pretty short or even just simply headcannons lol <3
wahh thank you sm 🥹 i really love the characters and writing them in situations…. it makes me happy to hear people think im portraying them well
𐙚 Idia Shroud
It’s not like he’s never had a crush on anyone before, he’d usually recognize the feeling pretty quickly even. But, that pretty much instant feeling of being drawn to this one specific stranger in the crowd, that’s definitely something new. He doesn’t understand why he’s so fixated on you right off the bat, flustered like you’re not multiple feet apart and don’t even know each other’s names. Idia’s heart races even more, being almost too late to realize he was staring at you before you glance towards him. Sure, you’re a cute stranger, but that sort of “crush at first sight” thing only belongs in cheesy dating sims and such, as far as Idia knows.
”Aah, that’s it, this school finally made me lose my mind”, he thinks, once at the ceremony, then again when your face shows up in his thoughts later. He hadn’t even heard you speak, and yet… He finds himself overthinking every bit of that non-interaction, one half of his mind firmly telling him that he’s being a weirdo for doing that at all, near completely drowned out by his worries over whether you caught him staring at you like an idiot. If this was really a crush, and not a really weird case of crossed wires, he’s probably already ruined everything for himself, right? Not that he’d have a chance otherwise—
He almost manages to get over the whole thing when the stars decide to align to laugh at him, and you two end up talking. What exactly led up to it? If you asked him how, he’d hinestly have trouble remembering. Did you end up visiting his dorm, maybe even joining his club? Did you two run into each other in the halls, anime meet-cute style? You introduced yourself, and he somehow managed to respond appropriately. Maybe he was on his phone, looking at something related to a game he likes, and you just so happened to play it too…
And it’s a known fact that the one thing that’ll get Idia to forget his own anxiety for a moment, is being prompted to talk about his interests— Whatever it was that you brought up became the thing that miraculously tied you two together. You end up exchanging contact information, both too invested in feeding each other’s excitement for a second.
…Then, after you walk away from each other, it hits Idia that he has your contact information. Looking back on it, he feels like that must have been insanely lucky of him. Probably months worth of dream cards pulled from limited banners. At this point, there’s no way to deny his feelings to himself, incomprehensible as they might feel. Maybe he could dare to think he has a chance, considering you two have an interest in common… And it’s always much easier for him to talk to people over text.
That’d be getting ahead of himself, though, he thinks, the debate heavy in his mind as he proofreads his text asking if you want to play that game with him anytime soon. He covers his own eyes when he hits send, his hands feeling shaky down to the fingertips. You could send the most unremarkably polite response, he’s still going all crazy over it, even alarming Ortho with the noise he makes when he almost falls off his chair.
You play together, somehow it turns into a routine thing. You start exchanging texts, greeting each other in the halls. Idia has no idea how life just dropped that on his lap, even though he starts to feel more comfortable around you, it’s always still a little surreal. There’s always that persistent fear that he’s going to ruin everything somehow, but as much as his lower moods make him want to withdraw, he never goes through with it, a text from you arriving just in time to snap him out of the trance— Really, you must be magic, or something. So much that even if it all turned out to be a spell, he doesn’t think he’d even mind it.
if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦
#twst#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#twisted wonderland x reader#idia shroud#idia shroud x reader#twst imagines#twst headcanons#lis writing
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future self here: read the article it's pretty good. anyway down heres my take before i finished the article
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ok imma make the post while reading the article
this reads more like something thats meant to make you outraged than something that makes a genuine attempt to analyze the lightning thief. ragemongering if you will.
Now why the hell would the Greek gods ever live in America? Great question. Here’s where it starts to get real ugly real quick.
is it though? is it really? cuz im pretty sure the real world reason is to have an excuse to make the series happen in America (the home of the target audience) as opposed to greece (not the home of the target audience). and the in-story reason is just whatever lets you justify this in-universe.
Chiron who had been previously disguised as a Latin teacher in a wheelchair—presumably to better hide his… horse parts? I’m not sure
yes? it has admittedly been a while since i read those books but im pretty sure that is the cannon in universe reason why he uses a wheelchair. did you read the book?
ok reading further they start bringing up actually relevant points that do support their claim. im not gonna copy all of that but i will respond with: it is still a book about the greek gods and is based on greek legends. idk if you forgot but greeks are white europeans. legends about demigods tend to have exceptionalism as part of their main themes. often explicitly. yea unless you're writing some really sanitized story, basing it on greek legends will probably make it at least a little problematic.
i didnt know that bit about western civilization being a new concept. that is a good point:
This emphasis on the power of western civilization — a concept that didn’t emerge until the 19th century and was bound up in “imperialism and colonialism, white supremacism, classism and exceptionalism” — absolutely pervades The Lightning Thief,
lets keep reading -
It is perhaps tempting to write this off as a common — albeit indelicate — narrative technique. Riordan is writing for Americans, so he crafted a narrative focused on Americans.
oh i was anticipated.
the promotion of a (falsely) white ancient Greece and Rome is not limited to The Lightning Thief. White people love narratives wherein Greeks, Romans, and their gods are white
ok yea ancient greece wasnt just white people. still they were definitely europeans. actually let me just google this real quick -
What races lived in ancient Greece?
Hellenes
Central and Eastern Greek tribes (Aeolians, Achaeans and Ionians) ...
Western Greek tribes (Dorians and Macedonians) ...
Macedonians-Magnetes.
https://en.wikipedia.org
List of ancient Greek tribes - Wikipedia
that doesnt help much. a bunch of ancient greek tribes i don't recognize. hmmm maybe if i go into the article and nope nope just more words and graphs i dont understand. ok since im a little stupid lets go with this. ancient greece definitely had non-white people in it too, but i dont think its that controversial to say it was mainly white europeans. if not, then you have to explain how the current inhabitants are mostly white europeans. which...idk you can probably explain it pretty easily but i am not smart and the simplest explanation is just that the ethnicities of the current inhabitants roughly matches that of the ancient inhabitants.
i still dont think its so unreasonable to assume that rick decided to move the gods to america as a way to appeal to his audience, rather than as some kind of white supremacist move. though tbf it could be both. he doesn't even have to be aware hes doing it for it to be the case. but just because it could be the case doesnt mean it is.
the way he phrases it in-story does kinda seem supremacist now that i think about it but again, this is a story about demigods and is based on ancient myths and literal legends. giving these things some epic framing with exceptionalism is hardly surprising.
and...thats about all the notes i have about the article. it goes on to make a lot of good points and best of all, it doesn't actually pile up on rick and his stories that much. just brings attention to the fact that there is some genuine white supremacy stuff in there and that you should be aware of that. it doesn't even tell you not to read them and it makes note of the fact rick has gotten much better at not doing white supremacy.
in a way i was right about this article being rage mongering. just that it only rage mongers at the beginning as a way to draw you in to read it. call that a hook call it clickbait but the article is genuinely good and insightful and i recommend reading it.
you thought you can just read my addition instead of the article didnt you? think again buster you are merely a fool.
so like. everyone in the pjo fandom has read this article right? ok cool
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tysm for filling in the void for yan mydei im so full just by reading through ur works ugh
more yan is always welcomed but like the plot twist is that it's reader that's the yan and mydei knows and likes it like some guy warns him about ur misdeeds and he's like 'yeah i know, got a problem with that?' listen im just deep into mutual toxic lovers okay thank u for coming to my ted talk keep writing stay hydrated mwap
Mydei x Yandere!Reader
At first, Mydei was just another face in the crowd, one more person who basked in the admiration of others, soaking up attention like it was his birthright.
And you? You acted like you couldn't care less.
When he flashed that charming smile, you barely glanced his way. When he teased, when he toyed, when he played his little games with those around him, you only met him with flat indifference, as if he were nothing special. As if he didn’t matter.
But inside, deep down, where no one could see, you were watching.
You noticed everything. The way he moved, the way his presence filled a room, the way he always seemed so confident, so untouchable. The way others chased him like desperate moths to a flame. It was infuriating. It was intoxicating. You wanted to be the only one who saw him, the only one who truly understood him.
But you couldn’t show that.
So instead, you let him think you were unaffected. You played the part of the one who simply tolerated his presence, the one who didn’t crumble under his charm. And, strangely enough, that was what caught his interest.
Because Mydei had seen admiration before. He had seen obsession, longing, love. But he had never seen someone like you—someone who met him without worship, without expectation.
That was when he started watching you.
At first, it was subtle—lingering glances, idle curiosity. Then it grew. He found himself searching for you in every room, noting the way you reacted (or didn’t) when he spoke. He tested your patience, pushed at your boundaries, just to see what you would do.
And when he finally realized the truth—when he caught that single moment where your mask cracked, when he saw the way your eyes lingered a little too long, the way your fingers twitched when someone else got too close—he smiled.
Because you were different. And that was why he loved you.
The confession came suddenly, without warning.
“I want you” Mydei had said one evening, his voice soft but certain. “You’re the only one who’s ever really seen me.”
You had scoffed, played it off like it meant nothing. "So? What do you expect me to do about it?"
His gaze didn’t waver. "Stay with me."
And that was how it started.
Your relationship was complicated, tangled in sharp edges and unspoken truths. Mydei was possessive, but he never needed to be—because you weren’t going anywhere. You watched him, he watched you, a game of quiet obsession played in the shadows.
So when some fool approached Mydei one day, warning him about you, he only chuckled.
"Obsessed?" he echoed, amusement dancing in his voice. "You act like that’s a bad thing."
After all, love meant never having to let go.
It started with whispers.
A nervous glance here, a hushed murmur there. People had always gossiped, always speculated about your relationship with Mydei, but lately, the tension had shifted. It was no longer just idle curiosity or petty jealousy. No, this was something else.
Fear.
The first warning came from a former admirer of Mydei’s, a trembling voice layered with concern.
"Mydei, I know you might not believe me, but they’re dangerous" she said, wringing her hands together. "They don’t just push people away—they get rid of them. Anyone who gets too close to you just… disappears."
Mydei tilted his head, fingers resting against his chin. "Is that so?"
She nodded quickly, relieved that he was listening. "Yes! I—I don’t think you realize just how deep this goes. I even heard that—"
He cut her off with a lazy smile. "And?"
She blinked. "What?"
"Why did that concern you?"
Her mouth opened and closed, as if struggling to process his response. "They’re obsessed with you! Aren’t you—aren’t you scared?"
"Should I be?" He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. "Tell me, if someone was willing to burn the world down for you… wouldn’t that be just a little bit romantic?"
The girl paled, taking a shaky step back. Mydei only laughed as she hurried away.
The second warning came from someone bolder.
"Mydei, listen to me," a man muttered, grabbing his wrist firmly. "That person you’re with? They’re unhinged. They have people watching you. I—I overheard them threatening someone just for looking at you the wrong way."
Mydei arched a brow. "And?"
The man’s grip tightened. "Don’t you get it? They’re dangerous."
A slow smirk spread across Mydei’s lips. "Good."
The man flinched, his expression shifting from urgency to something wary. "You… you knew?"
Mydei sighed, shaking his head. "Of course I knew. Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?" His fingers pried the man’s hand off his wrist, his grip just a little too firm. "Tell me, do you think I look like someone who lets things slip past me?"
The man swallowed hard, but before he could say anything else, Mydei turned away, waving him off as if he were nothing more than a passing nuisance.
The warnings kept coming. People muttering in corridors, exchanging uneasy glances when they thought Mydei wasn’t looking.
They all seemed to think they were telling him some grand secret. That he was blind.
But Mydei had never been blind.
He knew exactly what kind of person you were.
And that was exactly why he stayed.
Mydei was no stranger to being watched. Admired, even. He knew the weight of lingering stares, the way people’s eyes followed him with thinly veiled longing. It was expected, predictable.
But your gaze? That was something else entirely.
He felt it before he even saw you.
It was late afternoon when he paused in the palace gardens, ignoring the meaningless chatter of nobles flitting around him. A faint rustle overhead had his lips curving into a smirk. Subtle to most—but not to him.
Ah. There you were.
Perched on a tree branch like a shadow, watching him with that same unreadable intensity you always had.
The noblewoman beside him prattled on about something inconsequential, but Mydei wasn’t listening. His focus had already shifted. He barely spared the woman a glance before turning on his heel and striding toward the tree, cutting through the manicured hedges without hesitation.
"Ah—Your highness?" The woman’s voice wavered, confused by his abrupt disinterest.
But he was already gone.
You didn’t move as he approached, still as a predator in waiting. Mydei took his time, tilting his head as he peered up at you.
"You know," he mused, amusement lacing his tone, "if you’re going to stalk me, at least put in a little more effort. This is hardly a challenge."
You didn’t dignify that with a response, though your fingers twitched ever so slightly against the bark. Mydei chuckled, stepping closer.
"Are you going to keep watching from up there, or do I have to come and get you myself?"
There was the briefest flicker of movement before you leapt down, landing soundlessly a few feet away. You dusted off your sleeves, leveling him with a blank stare.
"Busy?" you asked, voice flat.
"Not anymore" he said breezily, as if he hadn’t just walked away from an entire crowd to chase after you.
A scoff. "You’re ridiculous."
"And you’re predictable." His smirk widened as he leaned in slightly. "Did you think I wouldn’t notice?"
"You were taking too long."
Mydei let out a delighted laugh. "Impatient, are we?"
You rolled your eyes, but the way you lingered just a little too close, the way your fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to grab him—it was enough to make his blood hum with satisfaction.
"Let’s go somewhere less… public."
You hesitated for only a moment before following.
The nobles and servants who had been watching from afar exchanged looks, whispers passing between them. Some admired the way Mydei always gravitated toward you, the way he smiled so easily in your presence. Others found it unnerving, the intensity between you both—something electric, something dangerous.
But none of them dared to interfere.
Mydei led you through the palace gardens, away from prying eyes. He didn’t need to look back to know you were following. You always did.
That was the fun part.
You never admitted it, never said it outright, but he knew. You were obsessed with him. And, he loved that.
As you walked, his pace slowed until he was just beside you. "You know," he mused, voice light, "most people try to get my attention by speaking to me. But I suppose lurking in trees works too."
"Maybe if you weren’t surrounded by idiots all the time, I wouldn’t have to."
Mydei let out a delighted hum. "Jealous?"
You didn’t answer.
Which meant yes.
He grinned, shifting closer, until his shoulder nearly brushed against yours. "you could always just say you want me to yourself."
"I don’t care what you do"
"You're bad at lying" Mydei sing-songed, clearly entertained.
You huffed, but Mydei only smirked, pleased. He knew how to push, how to tug at the threads of your carefully composed exterior until they frayed just enough to amuse him.
After a few moments of silence, Mydei spoke again, this time more thoughtful. "You know, someone tried to warn me about you again today."
"Is that so?"
He turned to face you fully, walking backward without a care. "Apparently, you’re dangerous."
"Are you scared?"
Mydei chuckled, stepping even closer. "You tell me."
"You really don’t care, do you?"
Mydei’s grin widened. "Would I still be here if I did?"
Your lips parted slightly, and for a second, Mydei thought you might actually say something real. But instead, you scoffed and looked away.
"Tch. Idiot."
"Possessive" Mydei countered smoothly.
You shot him a glare, but he only laughed, unbothered as always.
It started with small things like a glance that lingered too long, a conversation cut too short. People who used to approach Mydei freely now hesitated, their smiles more forced, their words more cautious.
At first, he found it amusing. You were possessive—he had always known that.
But then, things began to shift.
The first real incident was at a banquet.
A noblewoman, a foreign dignitary, all fluttering lashes and saccharine words had taken an interest in him. Nothing unusual. Mydei had entertained her with easy conversation, just enough to be polite.
And then he saw you.
Standing at the edge of the room, watching.
When he met your eyes, you tilted your head slightly, as if waiting. He excused himself from the noblewoman’s company without thinking. His feet carried him toward you before he could question why.
“You’re being ridiculous..” he murmured when he reached you.
You didn’t respond. You didn’t have to. The way your gaze flicked over his shoulder, where the noblewoman still lingered, was enough.
The next morning, the woman abruptly cut her stay short and left the palace without explanation.
People murmuring about how she had seemed shaken, about how she had refused to speak of why she was leaving.
He didn’t ask you about it.
But that wasn’t the last time.
More people began avoiding him. Conversations ended when he entered a room. Some courtiers wouldn’t even meet his gaze anymore.
And every time, when he turned to look at you, he found you already watching.
“You’re being too much.” he finally told you one evening.
You didn’t flinch. “Too much for what?”
“For them.” Mydei gestured vaguely. “You’re scaring people off.”
“Good.”
He frowned. “That’s not—”
“Do you want them?”
The question was quiet, but it made his breath catch.
You were standing too close now, eyes dark, expression unreadable. The air felt heavier, like a trap he hadn’t realized he’d stepped into.
You weren’t touching him, but he felt caged all the same.
“…No” he admitted.
“Then what’s the problem?”
He let out a slow breath, forcing a smirk onto his lips. “You’re suffocating, you know that?”
“You like it.”
He couldn’t argue with that.
And maybe that was the worst part.
---
Mydei woke to darkness.
His mind was sluggish, limbs heavy. The faint scent of something cloying still lingered at the back of his throat—something sweet.His wrists ached when he moved, the telltale tightness of silk restraints biting into his skin. He was sitting, legs spread, posture relaxed but utterly bound.
A chuckle bubbled up from his throat. “Really?” His voice was hoarse, still thick with the aftereffects of whatever you had given him.
“You went too far.”
Your voice was steady, but he could hear it—the irritation laced beneath. The anger you rarely let slip.
He should be wary. Should be unsettled by the cold metal dragging along his collarbone, the warning pressure of something sharp just barely pressing into his skin.
But he wasn’t.
Because this? This was new.
And Mydei never could resist a good game.
A sharp pain flared across his cheek—a slap, hard enough to make his head turn. The sting bloomed into heat, skin tingling.
Mydei exhaled slowly. “Ah… so that’s how it is?”
You didn’t respond. He could feel you there, hovering close, your presence a weight against his senses.
Then another hit. His lip split, a sharp copper tang filling his mouth.
His tongue darted out, tasting it.
“You don’t like it when I talk to others, do you?” His voice was almost teasing, but lower, rougher.
Your fingers curled around his throat, tightening just enough to make him swallow.
“Shut up.”
He hummed, not quite a laugh, but close. “Make me.”
Your grip tightened, cutting off his breath for just a moment before releasing.
His pulse thrummed with something heady, something dangerous. He shifted slightly, testing his restraints—not out of a desire to escape, but just to feel the silk dig deeper.
A soft chuckle escaped him. “You think this will make me stop?”
You leaned in, breath hot against his ear. “No” you murmured.
You knew him too well.
Knew that no matter how tight you held him, no matter how hard you tried to break him—
He would always let you.
Because in the end, neither of you wanted to let go.
#yandere x reader#yandere#hsr x reader#honkai star rail#hsr x you#yandere honkai star rail#yandere hsr x reader#hsr mydei#mydei x reader#honkai star rail mydei
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— 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥!
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/d98f0dad16f7322b69a7af812069013a/d534d5eec9a47c24-20/s540x810/ee01acc1b938bc1fd31b986b6629bbea5ce40fa7.jpg)
➺ PAIRING | gyutaro shabana x fem!reader.
➺ CONTENT WARNING | a little suggestive towards the end. 0,9k words not proofread
➺ NOTE | happy valentine's day to those who don't celebrate 🧚🏻♀️ I wanted this to be a janitor bot at first but I didn't want to 'waste' the idea on a bot :') I'm gonna be honest with y'all, the last few months have been pretty rough. I hate everything I write, and it's only getting worse with time. Im not sure if i'll ever get out of that state of mind at this point but oh well, haha. it is what it is I guesssss
Gyutaro had never cared about Valentine's Day before he met you.
Now, he’s pretty sure it’s his favorite day of the year. Not because he likes the holiday itself—no, he still thinks it’s ridiculous how people cling to shallow gestures and empty words, acting as if love only matters once a year when it’s wrapped in ribbons and chocolate. But you? You made it different. You made it meaningful.
This year, you had insisted on celebrating, saying something about making up for all the years he never got to experience it. Gyutaro had scoffed at the idea, grumbling about how pointless it was. But deep down, a part of him—one he barely admitted to himself—had been looking forward to it for weeks. (Not that he’d ever say it out loud.)
So now here he is, lying on your futon, watching as you carefully set up a tray with all the things you’ve prepared for him. Handmade chocolates, a cup of warm tea, and a tiny wrapped gift.
“You’re spoiling me too much, y'know,” he murmurs, scratching absently at his arm. His nails dig a little too hard into his skin but he barely notices. A small, barely noticeable smirk creeps onto his lips as he tilts his head at you. “Aren’t you worried I’ll start expecting this every year?”
“Maybe that’s my plan,” you tease back, kneeling beside him. Before he can respond, you lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips, the tender gesture making him freeze.
God. Why'd you have to be so goddamn perfect? He hates it. Hates how easily you manage to drive him crazy with the simplest touch. How badly he wants more. How he's already fighting his own body so that he doesn't pounce on you and take your right here and there on this futon before you even have the chance to go through with the date. He’s pathetic, isn’t he? The thought makes him dig his nails a little deeper into his palm — but before it can get to the point of drawing blood, your hand is on his wrist, gentle as always, guiding his fingers away from his skin.
“Hey. None of that, baby.” you interrupt his train of thoughts, bringing his knuckles to your lips. “No self-loathing allowed on Valentine's day, 'kay?"
Gyutaro immediately looks away and huffs, heat quickly creeping up his neck. Fuck. He loves you. He loves you. He loves you so fucking much his throat tightens with the need to scream it on top of the roofs. He's not sure why the universe suddenly decided to bless him with a love like yours, but, hell. He isn't about to take it for granted.
With a slightly trembling hand, he plucks one of the chocolates from the tray in front of him and pops it into his mouth, desperately needing to shift the focus off himself.
“You made those yourself? Eh, they're not bad, I guess..." he teases, letting out a quiet hum of approval.
“Not bad?” you gasp. “I spent all evening making these, and all you’ve got for me is ‘not bad’?”
Gyutaro grins, watching the way your lips purse in mock indignation. The way you tease him so effortlessly, like he’s just a guy and not the ugly loser he knows himself to be — it makes something warm stir inside him, his dick hardening and twitching traitorously in his pants. But he ignores it, not wanting to out himself as a complete creep to the girl he loves. Instead, he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly delicate. His fingers brush against your cheek, feeling the heat of your skin beneath them.
“Yeah, alright, fine..." he rolls his eyes playfully. “They’re perfect. Just like you.”
Your eyes widen for a moment, your lips parting and closing again in shock. Then you let out a laugh, tilting your head to press a kiss to the heel of his palm. “Mhm, that’s better.”
“Hey, don’t get all cocky with me now,” His smirk widens, fingers intertwining with yours. “It’s not every day I hand out compliments, y’know. Don't get used to it.”
You squeeze his hand, your fingers tracing idle patterns against his skin. “Well, I guess that just makes them even more special, then.”
Gyutaro doesn’t argue. The truth is, he'll probably shower you with compliments every day after that. He knows it, and he knows you do too.
His heart beats an unsteady rhythm against his ribs, but he finds he doesn’t mind. He likes this. Likes you.
When you shift closer and tug him into your arms, Gyutaro doesn't resist. He lets you guide his head to rest against your chest and exhales a long breath, his entire body relaxing when your fingers start threading through his messy, tangled hair.
A long silence settles between you then, but it isn’t uncomfortable. He tightens his grip on you, letting his fingers curl into the fabric of your clothes as if that will somehow ground him.
Gyutaro closes his eyes, letting himself enjoy the slow, steady rise and fall of your chest as you kiss the crown of his head. For once, he doesn’t feel like a monster. He doesn’t feel like something broken. He's just... a man, held in the arms of someone who loves him. And for the first time in a long, long time, he thinks that maybe—just maybe—happiness isn’t entirely out of his reach.
#let me know if you do want a janitor bot based on this fic tho!#reader insert#x reader#x fem reader#demon slayer x reader#gyutaro#gyutaro shabana#gyutaro shabana x reader#gyutaro x reader#gyutaro x you#gyutaro smut#gyuutarou#gyuutarou x reader
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HAPPY VALENTINES DAY TO @justyouraverageleafykinnie AND @dogboyratgirl TAKE THE SILLIES
tw theyre fluffy and sweet in this so yeah (also long. also will maybe post to ao3 someday idrk)
title is "together we can figure it out!" a bears in trees lyric
this fic features lint from wonderlust as well as wonderlust ocs of my friends :3 (I AM NOT CAUGHT UP WITH WONDERLUST DO NOT EXPECT TO GET FUTURE EP REFS I DONT MIND SPOILERS IM JUST SAYING)
description: It's Aluntine's day (or their world's Valentine's day), and for strange, almost 100% homosexual reasons, Lint can't do anything but find his way back to Apple.
Lint had faced many Aluntines days inside the bakery with his mom, just making cookies. Couples came in, grabbed sweet little treats for their sweet little treats (that isn't incredible wording, maybe he hangs out by Troy too much), and left. It wasn't a lonely time, not when it made business. As he looks across the tables before opening, things feel different.
"You alright Bumblebee?"
Lint half-buzzes back a response. It's not even opening time, he needs to keep it together. Come on!
"Repeat that?"
He buzzes a bit more, less responding to the question and more mumbling to himself. Nothing else is different, nothing's too special about today, well maybe minus...
He leaves the bakery, off to find his sweet little treat.
Apple is not expecting much today. Yes, this time around, Apple could have gone with Lint somewhere nice, however he knew Lint was busy today at the bakery, so maybe he would bug him after. In the meantime, Apple was working on writing something. The plan was simple: finish this, check on the orchard, maybe visit the bakery and see that bee, all that good stuff.
Just like how he changed his life, Lint had changed his plans. With a jumpscare that made Apple fall out his chair, a special bee came buzzing in. All of Apple's panic faded into something softer seeing the culprit of the noise. He sighs a bit.
"Hello, sugarfly."
"I...I feel strange." Lint stands a bit awkwardly in the doorway. Apple repositions himself so they sit up better.
"Go on."
"I thought today was gonna be a normal day, but it just...doesn't. And I didn't know where to go so..."
"Of course." Apple starts cleaning up his writing supplies. He can finish it later.
"Do you uh- how do you ask this sort of thing..."
Apple bleats curiously.
"Do you want to be my Alumni? I just...I don't know. We can uh, hang out, like always, but, special? Not really? Help me out here..."
Apple giggles. "Of course darling."
He buzzes excitedly and Apple can't help but grin at him. I mean, when it's a nice day outside, pretty and basically shining, who could help themself?
"What were you thinking of?"
Lint sinks a bit into himself. Oh cog, he didn't think of something big. Or, uh, anything. What did Mars say? Deep breaths? He takes a couple, in for 7, hold for 6, release for 5. Surely Apple wouldn't mind. He hates liars anyways.
"I uh...I don't know. I just knew I had to come to you."
"That's okay! We can figure it out together!"
Cog that goat was pretty. No, Lint, focus! You have to give them the best date he's ever seen! Just how…
“Maybe a nice restaurant?”
“They may be all reserved out babydoll…”
“Oh…Does my place sound nice?”
“Always does.”
Did it feel silly to take Apple from their house to bee’s? Yes, but to be fair, there were specific things Lint needed there to make sure this was perfect. Apple deserved nothing less.
Walking in, she hears some commotion from the kitchen, mostly just grumbling and the sounds of the assembly of a gift. Looking past his neutral green walls into the kitchen with its purple walls, he sees Troy, bright red and looking just pissed. He angrily puts a ribbon around a set of orchids colored with mint and blue orchids. Despite his pissed…everything, Troy handles the flowers with much care.
“Something wrong Champion?”
“JAX.”
“Is he-”
“THAT STUPID PRETTY BOY BASTARD ASKED ME ON A DATE BEFORE I COULD AND I NEED TO BEAT HIM WITH MY SLED. ALSO MAYBE KISS HIM.”
“You go do that love.”
Troy stomps by him, grabbing his face gently and kisses his cheek. Lint giggles, which sounds a bit like a buzz. He buzzes a lot. That wasn’t a bad thing, he hopes. Maybe he should just set up the movie.
“We uh, we’ve gotten a lot of movies. There’s Ratatoing- that’s not a good one, there’s Cloverfield, Jax may have left around his strange ‘Ratnarok’ documentaries or something- what interests you?”
“Uhhhh, all of them?”
“Love Rattually it is.”
As Apple helps with selecting the movie, he sets up the couch with its assortment of pillows and blankets. One is plain and fuzzy, a muted green, another a felt one with sunflowers on it. Lint grabs some pretzels and popcorn in the kitchen, he also prepares 2 cups of coffee, one for himself, and one for his heaven send.
Apple is still by the couch, sitting, waiting for Lint. He holds the letter he had planned to give Lint later that day, going over each carefully plucked and nurtured word. Lint had brought lights to his days that he would have known from no other being or aspect of living, the least he can do is give him something of perfection. Lint deserves nothing less.
He adds a couple details to it and carefully folds it so as to not crease it. He hopes it’s good enough. They finish the set up as footsteps come on by them behind the couch. Lint holds his arms around Apple from above as bee places in his hands a cup of coffee.
“Got you a cup! Made with love.” Lint is buzzing with joy, putting his head on Apple’s shoulder. Apple takes this as the chance to pepper him slightly with kisses, but like any well made dish, too much seasoning- well here it just made him giggle and light-heartedly protest.
“Let me put my cup down first angel!” He smiles and snickers and Apple feels his heart flutter around and he gains another reason to love him.
Lint climbs over into the blankets and snuggles up next to Apple as they play some movies, drinking coffee. At certain parts, Apple turns his gaze back to Lint and sometimes Lint’s looking at him. As eyes meet, the boys giggle as they give each other compliments and flirts and kisses. As their binging goes on, their energy simmers down with the time, fading into simple cuddling on the couch. Cups sit on the table, basically empty, with the TV’s hum as natural to the environment as Lint’s buzzing was to him. He adored this bee beyond words.
He carefully wriggles his letter out from his pocket, using the blue light to guide his reading ability.
‘’Dearest sweetest bee I’ve known, Lint
There are many things I want to tell you. I want to tell you how you are the light of my days and how no sun nor star could outshine you. I want to tell you how your voice is a gracious melody, with each note and buzz writing a harmonious tune I wish to hold forever. I want to tell you how I could count the stars that trail the sky and name all the shades of its majesty and not once could I think of a world where it’d be a more beautiful sight then the warmth of your smile. I want to tell you how you’ve taken my world and sculpted it to a more magical and wondrous one then I could have arrived too. I want to tell you how the ideas of love and friendship were carefully taught to me by the wondrous bee you are. I want to tell you how you’re the sweetest nectar I’ve tried and I’ve never felt once a need to find another.
There are many things I want to tell you. Maybe I can settle with a few words. I love you Lint, you are a shining star, thank you, I love you, thank you.
All the love I can give,
Apple’’
He’s still unsure if all he’s wanted to say is there, if that’s what bee would understand is true. Thoughts swarm Apple’s head, like a wasp hive, aiming for his heart. Before he gets lost in his mind, Apple hears a small faint buzz from a special someone under his head. He seemed to have fallen asleep a bit ago. The small reminder grounds Apple and his heart calms down with him. He’s got someone too close to there to be so worried. He remembers Lint’s words before, what he didn’t exactly say but was always there.
I didn't know where to go so I came to you.
Apple smiles a bit, closing his eyes and falling for the background TV ambience himself. Together they will figure it out.
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YVE !! ♡ my angel, your feedback means more than all the stars in the sky ଘ꒰ ॣ´͈ ᵕ `͈ ॣ꒱ଓ i’m going to scream with you under the cut
starting with the synopsis alskdwlmzap i mean who doesn’t see sunghoon and #WantThat ?! i fear he wouldn’t leave a room with me in one piece
as an evil, weird, off putting girl myself i had to represent !! she was so easy to write bc i was half self-inserting during this story 😭 i love her idc ! she never did wrong !!
m*n are rotten, and i wholeheartedly agree that 100 random m*n should be sacrificed monthly. honestly, put them all in jail to start until deemed worthy of being free ! ~ the father / reverend is the true evil here. absolute terrible man (but necessary for the plot) i love how you dragged him every chance you got LMAO he deserves all the hate “it’s time for you to die” IJBOL, so real
it was hitting real close to home while writing ㅠㅠ and you’re so right - she wasn’t born resilient, she had to become resilient because of the environment she grew up in !! and omg your comments about her made me realize how sad and angsty this story is (i didn’t even think it was that depressing while writing but ohmygod it really is ajskakf)
NOT THE “it’s nice to be seen, noticed” being a theme in my works 😭 am i exposing myself ?!? (yes)
sidenote — I LOVE ALL THE LIL MEMES AND GIFS SO MUCH HAHA the debby ryan ones always get me
i live love laugh when one of the love interests is a lil scared. yes, fear me, i love you but am also out to get you (in many ways, this adds to the mystery hehe) likkkke sunghoon doesn’t know what to do with all that !! … or does he?
THANK YOU! i pride myself in my weird creativity and no it’s not weird, it just means you’re a Real One. be giddy and excited !!!
you’re freaky comments kslakdpalb #REAL
soooo much religious trauma in this story. i’m the biggest nerd when it comes to theology and religious media (i honestly don’t know why, i don’t love or hate religion and im not religious (anymore), but something about it i’m always itching to write). i think it’s perfect for wanting to write about a relationship dealing with unlearning shame and guilt etc idk ! you get it? yeah, you do
reader is 100000% projecting her feelings / trauma onto him. she doesn’t even realize that until later and how ironically she kind of was acting like her father in a way. and you’re on the money again ! she does like ruining sunghoon and having power over something but eventually realizes she likes the company much more after being alone most her life
omg ty ily for loving my ‘evil’ mc :( 🤍 she’s so complex and so very human. loved how you described her because that’s exactly how i wanted her to come across. yeah she’s a little mean but how can we blame her 😔
NO YOU ARE CORRECT !!! jake in HoP is also jake from attic angel. just them as college students (tbh i don’t remember all my details from attic angel, but i did want him to make a cameo here so yes this is my multiverse)
FATHERLESS BEHAVIOR ! i screamed. but sunghoon is sooooo cute. i had to bring the babygirl hoon agenda to light bc he’s so sweet and loser boy coded to me
YES THE TEDDY BEAR SCENE it’s actually my favorite part of the whole story 😭 because she’s finally opening up to him and being somewhat vulnerable. tender intimate moments >> anything else. I LOVE SLOW BURN, AND I MEANT IT !! before writing on this account angst and slow burn was always my go to :)) also the blood oath scene is one of my favs. it was supposed to be longer but was lazy lol
(i have to reply to the comment, sorry not sorry) but i had to gut you open to blow on the boo-boos </3 i needed that fluff to feel extra rewarding after the angst
IM SOOOO HAPPY you feel this was made for you because it was !! it really truly was. you’re more than likely a lot like me and this story was a love letter to all the people that the world made me feel small. we are seen and we can and will be loved just as tenderly as we wish regardless of how negative we feel about ourselves or what others think, etc 🤍 (i swear i have no cameras watching you!! unless.. JK)
NOT YOU CALLING ME OUT ABOUT THE ROOMS HAHA college boys are truly a mess, you got me there. i remember my guy friends dorms and it was horrid. sunghoon would never tho..
i could reply to everything you said (i totally did out loud to myself while giggling and kicking my feet with a fat grin) but i’ll end with THANK YOUUUUU SO MUCH FOR TAKING YOUR TIME TO READ MY STORY AND EVEN MAKE COMMENTS WITH ALL THE PICTURES AND WHAT NOT IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME HOW YOU PUT EFFORT INTO YOUR RESPONSES. I LOVE YOU SO BAD AND ITS BC YOU I ENJOY WRITING AND SHARING MY WORK EVEN MORE <3 !!!!!!! may the most tender, kind, and warm love find you.
harvest of purity — sunghoon [ 박성훈 ]
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pairing ⦂ sunghoon ⨯ fem. reader
synopsis ⦂ au in which an innocent, shy, and faithful sunghoon takes a summer job as a farmhand. he’s never indulged on his desires until the farmer’s daughter shows him a taste of sin. although riddled with guilt, he cannot deny or escape the new rousing feelings that impurify him. especially when she's set on ruining him every chance she gets.
genre ⦂ smut, slow burn romance, strangers to lovers word count ⦂ 29k tags ⦂ fluff and angst, repressed desires, innocence loss, guilt and shame, exploring relationships, falling in love, southern gothic vibes, summer au, clingy down bad sunghoon, ‘mean’ morally gray reader, both are weirdo loser freaks content advisory ⦂ mdni ! dark-ish content ⚠︎ sexually explicit content in four scenes: handjob, oral (m. rec.), dry humping, thigh fucking, unprotected sex, virginity loss, corruption!kink, degradation!kink, praise!kink, switch!hoon, he whines whimpers and cries; religious themes, concepts, corruption, and criticism; manipulation, animal death, blood, intense scenes, abusive parenting, gun mention and use
note ⦂ poured my heart out. i hope you love it as much as i do. dedicated to my other evil, off-putting, and/or weird girls┊reblogs and feedback encouraged ⇀ playlist ⸝⸝ masterlist 🌾
You’re not sure what life in your small town was like before you were born. You can imagine it’s not too different from what it is now though. The thing about old country towns is they never seem to change. Open fields and miles of farmland. Two gas stations, one grocery store, a few family owned vegetable stands or in-home produce product shops. Only one notable neighborhood where the majority of the townspeople lived if not hidden somewhere else in the countryside. And too many churches to keep track of if the abandoned ones were included in the count.
You like to think your parents were happy before you too. Hopeful and optimistic when offered to take over your uncle’s farm. Excited for the next step in their relationship after their marriage. They were the ideal family dream coming to life: high school lovers, engaged after graduation, married, a career handed to them through family with a large property of land and lovely farmhouse. All that was left was to grow that family. To have children to not only help tend the fields and animals but run around barefoot, all smiles, and wide eyed.
You were positive that it was something they wanted.
But life couldn’t have been that easy for them; it would’ve been too gratuitous of a blessing.
The day you were born, your father knew there was something greatly wrong with you. He claimed that on the day you ripped your mother open, screaming and crying, that God spoke to him for the first time. He called it divine intervention. Believing the birth of your soul was a red-herring of all that was set to come but God would show him the light, the truth: that you were nothing short of evil and needed saving.
That year on the farm there was nothing but death. It only furthered your father’s harsh thinking of you. The crops and produce either died or rotted before it had the chance to grow or ripe. The animals were dropping dead from unknown illnesses. Every female livestock that gave birth passed in doing so. Barely any profits were made that year. Taxes were rising and so were the prices of nearly everything. It was a huge toll for your family, especially when raising their first child. Before you were even conscious of the situation everything was already deemed your fault.
Through the harrowing struggle, your father’s optimism turned to resentment. He claimed that bringing you to the farm was not like bringing a daughter home, but a corrosive parasite. He believed that you were the reason for the life being sucked away from their perfect farm life. So, he turned to the only thing that he could trust to save the family from your curse: God. Begging and pleading through prayers every morning and night to the sky for a better season.
He studied religion here and there before taking over his brother-in-law's farm but with the farm failing for the first time, he took a change of career paths. He was already well known among the locals, close with the church goers in the community. And somewhere along the way, he managed to start preaching himself. Nearly every christian in your town moved churches to follow where he went. Like sheep to a shepherd.
If only they knew what you did, what he was truly like behind the closed doors of your home. How his devotion was turning to violence. Day by day, becoming uglier.
While your father busied himself with his new found family, often away from home on the farm, the crops and animals began to thrive again. Slowly but surely, growing and regaining health. He would say it’s God’s doing, a small taste of His salvation.
Your early years were mostly troubled by the relationship of your parents. Too young to fully understand their disputes, drawing at the kitchen table with their yelling sounding the house. It was always about you, that much you knew. Because you watch and you listen. Quick to learn that they tried for another child but never had any success. They wanted someone else to be their baby. Something that felt more like a blessing than you. Your father constantly spitting in your mother’s face that you were the rot to the fruit of her womb. And then he would always end up leaving by slamming the door and your mother would always join you at the table with tears and a bottle of wine. You always just watched, listening in silence. Perhaps just born resilient.
Growing up was different for you compared to most of the kids in your town. You never had the opportunity to make many friends being homeschooled. The only time that was spent around others your age was kindergarten. Kindergarten was short lived because of your behavior; the teachers at school were concerned about you. How you were mean, rough, and sinister with your actions towards others. Picking on the kids you were simply interested in because of how different from you they were. Drawing pictures of gutted cattle or dead, half developed baby chicks still in their shell and giving them as gifts to the teachers. Sharing to classmates the cruelty of farm life and why it was pretty with a smile.
Your father loved to find out about this, you could see it in his eyes. The way they were wicked and screamed I told you so to your mother. You didn’t understand why it was bad or caused trouble. You were only having fun for the first time. The way the kids ran away crying or the teachers wore faces of shocked horror, it made your insides light up in joy. A new feeling—a sense of excitement. You didn’t know it was sick. And of course, it was taken from you. You were removed from school and your mother became your teacher. Your classmates became stuffed animals and the real ones in the barns. It was hard for you to find that joy you briefly felt with others.
Sometimes you had a glimpse of it again when your father would punish you. But even that you grew sick of. The mess, the stench of it all. Sticky and red, worse in the heat of summer. He drilled the sick moto for his actions into your head, “I know no punishment, only mercy.”
Father took you both to church more often after that. He had a false image to uphold afterall, one of a happy, God loving family. In his ego he had to prove that his preaching and prayers could fix you, save you. But that was only admitted at home, loud and scary to your mother. Your poor mother, weak and defensive of you, eventually waved her white flag. You wished she kept fighting for you and that she wouldn’t begin to see you the way your father did.
Childhood and adolescence was a string of questions about yourself. Never quite finding out what made you so bad to be seen as devilish when all you thought of yourself was curious. Perhaps just unlucky to be correlated with negative happenings on and off the farm, always gone without a chance of understanding. Despite it all, you knew well enough the way your parents talked and looked at you was without unconditional love.
On your 17th birthday, the family dynamic made the biggest shift to be experienced.
At this age, you had such a strong sense of independence and with the lack of parental guidance and monitoring, you would leave town when you could. Ride your bike down the long road to the bus stop at the center of town and take the bus into the city over. Your mother was generous with allowance and you saved your money well, only spending it on books or trips to the movie theater. A form of escape that allowed you to learn more about the world and all the things your parents tried to keep hidden from you. A way to learn how to be human.
So when your father was tearing your room apart in search of the same gift he re-gifts you every year, he found some things that made his stomach churn. Every year for your birthday he rewrapped the same, first ever, bible he’d given you. Funny enough that he gave you anything at all considering he never even referred to it as your day, only his day of revelation. And to his disgust, on his sacred day, he found books and journals of explicitly detailed copulation and debauchery.
He almost fainted. Stumbling over his own feet, hands shaking as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the words on the pages. That was the only time you smiled on that day. Just for a second. And then a glimpse of hell broke loose.
In a rage, he destroyed everything. Your mother stood next to you in tears, telling him to stop and stop. Her hands covered her face but she saw everything through her fingers. You only watched in silence, hands balled in fists by your side. A silent hatred and anger coursed in you. He called you names that no man of God should, especially to his own daughter.
“You’re a disgraceful deviant of Satan! I should’ve known. My own day of revelation is a curse!” You watched him rip pages apart, his voice booming through the house. “Years spent praying for you and this is how you turn out?! Succumbing to nothing but a dreaming whore?!”
A part of you liked his mean words. It was so rare for him to use such colorful language.
You knew what would come next. He was going to have you ‘cleansed’. Something he always did when he discovered something new and sacrilegious of you.
But it didn’t come. Because there was no dying, old sheep on the farm at the time. He did make a promise to not forget though. A promise to have you washed in sacrificial, blessed blood on a day you least expected.
Your father left after that, leaving you and your mother behind. He moved to the city to continue his preaching at a larger church. He became known as the closest reverend to God for miles and miles. Lost in his ways, he only made visits when he needed to sort things out for the business of the farm.
You were content with his departure, yet couldn’t quite understand why your mother missed him. As far as you’ve seen, he was never kind towards either of you.
But now, it’s several years later. And although you’re free of your father’s heavy presence and homilies, he still makes his trips to the farm. You can feel the air change whenever he does, as if you’ve gained a sixth sense for his coming. Naturally intuitive to things having spent your childhood walking on eggshells in your own home.
And today, the air feels particularly chill for summer. The breeze sweeps in through your open window. The forecast called for nothing but sunshine all week, yet there’s an angry, dark cloud hanging over your farm. A foreboding feeling shivers through you, and you know he’s going to fulfill his promise today. You sigh and slide out of bed. “Let’s get this over with.”
You spend the morning doing your usual routine. Brushing teeth, washing your face, then dressing in farm work attire. Your breakfast consists of tea and your mothers homemade strawberry scone. Next is tending to the animals. Your mother usually takes care of the crops and gardening. It’s a quiet and early morning, as most are. The both of you keep to yourselves, just doing what needs to be done day by day.
The sound of a car is heard coming down to the long dirt road and you know who it is by the sound. It’s a fancier vehicle than the one he left this property with years ago. A meaner part of you likes to think his greedy hands got into that mega church’s donations but you’re too self aware of the successful farm your family owns.
Your father parks in front of the house and your mother is quick to rush over to him, presumably with many questions: How have you been? Are you hungry? Thirsty? What brings you here so early in the month?
You roll your eyes at her desperation to cling onto the relationship that clearly ended when you were a child.
You place a hand on your hip, leaning your weight to the side that isn’t carrying the heavy bucket of chicken feed. Walking away from the coops and back towards the shed by the house, you make eye contact with your father despite only taking a glance.
He watches you with narrow eyes from the lowered window of the car he’s still sitting in, very much not listening to a word your mother is saying.
He calls your name before you can open the shed. Spinning on the heels of your boots, you turn around with raised brows of questioning.
He mouths the words sacrificial tree as he exits the car. Your mother sees this. She wears pained disappointment as she scurries away. Presumably to the barn where the sheeps and lambs are kept. She might as well be a sheep too, you think.
The bucket slips from your fingers and drops to the patchy dirt grass by your feet with a thud, spilling over in a mess that will be cleaned later.
You don’t bother giving him a nod of understanding. You just turn around and begin your walk to the tree line where the man made path is. Knowing it would take some time for his preparations, you walk to the lake that’s hidden behind the farmland.
It’s a brief walk through your familiar woods. Once at the short wooden dock, you sit down at the end, taking in the gloomy summer scenery. A light fog hugs over the water. You bring your knees to your chest, in your sitting position, and hug yourself the same way.
This is your favorite place out of all the land your family owns. It’s serene, mostly. Always quiet. You’re the only one who comes here. And it’s nice to swim with when the weather warrants it. There’s a feeling here that’s hard to feel anywhere else you find yourself. Sometimes you imagine what it would be like with someone else, but you doubt it would be as nice. Trouble has a way of following you, it seems. You frown at the thought.
It’s silent like this for a few minutes, just you trying to find a sense of calmness before the impending chastisement. Then you hear some rustling of leaves, heavy footsteps following. You don’t turn around yet, you only wait for the call of your name. Your time of tranquility is too brief. You sigh before giving yourself a squeezing hug.
“It’s time,” the reverend calls out loudly, “quickly now, we have new farmhands arriving soon.” The sound of his feet walking away is when you stand. You wave a goodbye to the foggy lake before parting ways. Your feet move unconsciously, taking to where your body knows to go.
Leaves crinkle underneath your boots and twigs snap. The trees’ branches sway in the gentle morning breezes that pass.
In the mix of the small forest, man made crosses of sticks or plywood are spaciously scattered. Like a graveyard to all your bad doings. Most small but one large. Old rotted wood that stands crooked and begging to fall over right next to the largest, strongest tree. Your eyes, that are trained to ground, move upwards the cross and then to the tree. Your father stands there with a large knife in hand. Your mother waits cautiously not too far away. Her demeanor is frightful as if this is the first time. Coward.
An old sheep hangs by its hind legs from a sturdy tree branch. Unmoving and defenseless. Big beady, dumb eyes look in all directions but you. You think it must feel the same guilt as yourself, sorry that its life purpose is to embarrass you, make you hate what you are.
“God told me to make a sacrifice to prove my faith. He guides my hand in washing your soul clean of sin. So here I am with our blessed, dying lamb.” He’s said this every time. His voice is always miserably rehearsed and preacher-esque.
You thought long ago that this was their, the lambs, only use on the farm. It’s a shame. All that devotion has made him so ugly and violent.
You make small steps closer to the lamb. It’s whining in bleat baas and mehs. Does it know what’s happening? Is it scared? You like the lambs, sheeps. Pure white, soft, and docile. They never fight back. They just take it. I doubt they need restraints. You could hold them above me just the same and they’d never resist.
“Move faster, for the love of God. Yeah, stand right there underneath like you know how to.” He instructs you, annoyed. His patience running thin as the distant sounds of a truck makes way down the dirt road to the farm property.
“Okay…” You don’t fight him, with arms crossed behind your back and a hand squeezing around your own wrist, you move closer. Maybe you’re a lamb too.
Maybe all your father really was is the executioner.
He raises the knife as he begins to speak, it slides over its cotton, white throat but does not cut, “Revelation 7:13-17 Then he told me, ‘These are those who come from the great tribulation, and they’ve washed their robes, scrubbed them clean in the blood of the Lamb. That’s why they’re standing before God’s Throne. They serve him day and night in his Temple. The One on the Throne will pitch his tent there for them: no more hunger, no more thirst, no more scorching heat. The Lamb on the Throne will shepherd them, will lead them to spring waters of Life. And God will wipe every last tear from their eyes.’” He slits its throat in a quick, harsh movement. The blood spills just as fast, squirting spurts of red before it comes pouring down onto you. “Face up,” you obey even though it brings you rage, “it ought to cleanse those unholy thoughts I know that are still in there.”
Head raised to the sky with eyes and mouth squeezed shut, you let it consume you. Warm, thick and wet washes down from your head onto your clothes then down to your feet. The smell of animal, metallic iron covers you. It’s sticking to your hair, eyebrows and lashes. You can already feel your clothes clinging to your skin in the dirtiest ways.
You stand there, drenching in the its blood. Your father speaks again, firm and slow, “Say it with me now, ‘I know no punishment, only mercy.’” All you feel is the animal’s rain of life flooding you.
You open your mouth to speak but are quick to spit and cough out the blood that manages to get into your mouth. Smack.
“I don’t have time for this,” his voice sounds like an echo, your head is ringing from the harsh swing of his hand. The skin of your cheek stings. He hits like a bitch, you think. “Say it with me now, dammit!” You can feel him wipe his bloodied hand on the side of your shirt.
You step back from under the red shower. “I know no punishment, only mercy.” Your words align with his in the perfect paced harmony you’re trained to do so. Enunciated, slow and strong, through gritted teeth.
There’s a beat of silence before the sound of your parents footsteps walking away.
Standing there in red, yet to open your eyes, you breathe out a shaky sigh of defeat. It sounds more like a growl. With the mostly clean hands you kept safely behind you, you bring them up to wipe the blood from your face. You don’t dare to look at the dead animal in front of you. Being covered in it is enough alone to make you feel sick.
You think of going back to the lake, jumping in and letting the blood wash off you there, but knowing you’d either walk back with further drenched clothes or naked didn’t seem like options you wanted to deal with either. So you just head back to the house. It’s a slower walk than need be, but you just felt like avoiding the eyes of the newcomers, hoping they’d be off in the fields or in a barn by the time you walk through. You feel numb.
You’re wrong though, by the time you’re passing the barns and coops, the group of new farmhands are already lined up outside the horses’ stable. Your mother is talking to them, although not all are paying attention. Only a few pairs of wide eyes follow you. Catching the sight of you must really shock them but you can’t blame them. Something about this makes you excited. You stop in your tracks and look around to see if your father’s car is gone. It is. The realization feels like a wave of relief and it suddenly feels brighter outside already.
You take a glance down to your disheveled appearance. Shirt, pants, and boots painted like the barns. You look back to the group, brushing the soiled hair back from your face. Some pieces stay stuck, in the early stages of drying against your skin.
It’s safe to have a little fun.
You begin a slow walk over to the group. You take a headcount and there’s five of them. Two younger men, closer to your age. The other three look a bit older, not by much but definitely older. Your mother is yet to turn around from whatever rundown she’s giving them. Too dense to even recognize that now none of them were paying any attention to her.
You creep up beside her and open with, “Hello,” your voice is louder than even you’ve heard it be in a long time. It’s nice to be heard, noticed. You usually avoided the farmhands, but this summer was going to be different. You decided this on the walk over.
Being cooped up on the farm for so long made you different, it’s obvious to anybody. Not properly socialized in your developmental years caused you to be an anomaly to the ones who did come across you. Enigmatic from far away and up close. Now isn’t the greatest example though, the situation is too clear as to why.
Your mother turns to you, gasping and jumping back slightly in the shock of your gross state and sudden introduction. “My goodness, girl, whatta ya doin’ here like this?” Her voice is hushed, clearly unsettled with the situation.
They all just stare at you, open mouthed and bewildered. You take the time to get a good look at each of them up close. Your eyes follow their faces individually down the line. And then they stop.
At the end of the line is a man more beautiful than the ones you’ve seen in the movies. You feel stuck in time, left with parted lips, staring at the man before you. And far too intently for your character. He stands tall, sharp, pale, and elegant. What is a boy like this doing here? He averts his eyes from you, clearly uncomfortable by what’s before him. He looks uneasy, shifting his weight foot to foot with his hands behind his back. His pretty eyes glance around from you to your mother to the other men and the ground. He simply doesn’t know what to do with himself. You find it dangerously darling of him.
You don’t even realize the small smile that takes your lips. You step closer to him and he steps back, now looking at you with wide eyes of small fear. You extend your hand to him, it’s coated in drying blood. He gulps and the sight, his adam’s apple bobbing in such a biteable neck stirs something in you. This will be far more fun than you intended.
You say your name softly for introduction and step a little closer, “Nice to meet you," you feign cuteness as much as you can, looking up at him through your blood clumped lashes. It’s clear to everyone there is something off; there’s little to no real emotion behind your voice and face.
Your mother eyes you suspiciously as you corner the handsome man, but she says nothing. Sometimes she fears you too.
He looks from your eyes to your hand, having an internal battle with himself on what to do, “Ah, I am Sunghoon... Nice to meet you too.” His politeness must be stronger than his frighteness, because he takes his hand in yours and shakes it gently. His hand is large in yours, nearly covering it entirely. You squeeze it hard, your eyes never leaving his, trapping him in the scene.
He wants to look away, to hide somewhere. The way his skin crawls tells him he’s a prey already in the mouth of a predator. And you know he’s nervous under your intense gaze because your hand feels like a lamb is still bleeding above you. His palms are sweating, and it’s nowhere near hot enough for that yet. Your smile grows to a smirk.
Although you’re wearing the lamb, having Sunghoon’s hand in yours made you feel like a wolf.
Sunghoon’s first day of his summer job starts off duller than he imagined. The sun isn’t out this morning and it only intensifies his anxiousness, as if the grey skies reflect his inner emotions. He’s already new to the area, away from home and staying in an apartment not far from his college in the city. A private, christian school that he studied hard to get into with his friend. He wishes his best friend and roommate, Jake, was joining him in this job, but Jake already had plans to teach at a summer soccer camp for kids through their school.
He found this opportunity through the college church they attend together. A reverend from another church in the city came to visit one Sunday, handing out flyers to the young men in hopes of finding farm help. The pay is good and the bus fairs to the small town over where the farm’s located is covered. He’s never done work like it before, nevertheless was he going to let a simple offer pass him up.
Things are going smoothly to start, being told how to care for, clean, and feed the animals to crop preservation. Everyone would have their own specific roles on the farm. Sunghoon was assigned the easier of the tasks, either feeding animals or watering and fertilizing the vegetables and fruits crops. He learns there are already regular farm workers that would come throughout the week to collect produce, material, and use the machinery for the more laborious work. And if she wasn't around when needed then they could ask any of the regular employees for assistance or find her at the house.
As the farm owner is about to give details on the horses’ maintenance, a girl saunters in. And the anxious feelings become of Sunghoon all over again. His eyes are wide, taking in her appearance. The smell of the farm dissipates and putrid copper takes over. The worst part is how calm she appears, and the fact that she’s unbothered with all that she wears.
He thinks his brain short circuits, everything seeming muffled and unreal. He doesn’t even realize he introduced himself or touched her. It all was too quick and unfamiliar for him to grasp.
He watches as she walks away, back to the house that sits slightly over the hills and valleys of the property. His expression is blank, blinking slowly at the strange girl then down to his hand that’s stained red too.
“Don’t pay her no mind,” the woman speaks up, she sounds as if she’s warning them. “Just get yer work done and when everyone’s finished y’all can head back home. I won’t ask too much of ya in yer first month here, alright? That might be a different story later.” She tries to end the statements in humor with her forced laugh.
Sunghoon nods but his eyes don’t leave his dirty hand. The other men nod along too and give their ‘yes, ma’ams’ in return.
The woman continues walking them around the farm, listing rules and guidelines they must follow, along with advice and tips for the work they’ll be doing.
The day flows as easy as it can for Sunghoon. He doesn’t talk much with the other farmhands. He also doesn’t know them well enough to be comfortable in their conversations, so he just exists in awkward silence, sometimes reacting. While they can joke around and find fun in the work, his mind keeps wandering off to the girl from earlier, to you. How your empty eyes held onto his and small hand even tighter. He thinks the palm of his hand still burns from the interaction.
Around the afternoon time, Sunghoon and the guys are sitting around a picnic table near the house. The sun is beating down on them all now while they chug down water and eat their lunch. The owner was kind enough to provide their refreshments and meals. They were all thankful.
She adds that there’s a small lodge up the dirt road. It’s a little old but homey and has space with two spare bedrooms if they need to wash up or rest at any time. It was originally built for the farm workers that worked late and needed a place to stay if need be.
Once done, the boys stand up and talk about what they have left to do. The next bus back to the city isn’t running for another two hours so they speak of taking some leisure time and exploring the farm property. Meanwhile Sunghoon is still sitting, watching them huddled in conversation. He wipes some sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as they begin walking towards the fields.
Sunghoon, taking what the farm owner had mentioned previously, decides that he’d like to stay inside to get away from the beating sun for a while. So he gathers his trash to throw away in the bin by the road near the house’s mailbox and begins his walk to the lodge.
Once inside he takes in the rustic, outdated furniture. It’s a little dusty and the floorboards creak beneath his feet but he finds it somewhat comforting. The living space has two couches by an old stone fireplace, a center table with board games and cards, a kitchenette, and a large dining table with enough space to seat six people.
The decor is very farmers-life-esque. From a cow print rug in the small kitchen area to the antlers mounted on the wall near the dining table. There’s scenic southern paintings hung up along with antique crosses and prints of bible verses, all adoring the faded and peeling floral wallpaper. Above the fireplace hangs a painting depicting Jesus healing a blind man.
He walks down the only short hall in the lodge to find the two spare bedrooms the woman had mentioned along with a bathroom. He takes this time to wash his hands thoroughly and splash some cold water on his face. With his hands resting on the sink, he stares at himself in the mirror. The cold drops of water slip down his face, jaw, and back into the sink.
In his mind he’s questioning whether or not he’s sure of this job. It’s all too different from what he knows and he can’t help but feel out of place here. With a sigh, he drops his head and watches the water slip down the sink.
He jumps slightly at the sudden sound of the front door opening and closing, not expecting the others to join him here quite yet. No noise follows the action for a moment, not even footsteps. Then there’s the sound of a click, like the door is being locked. He straightens his posture and peaks out the bathroom door, listening for their voices or any sound other than silence. It offers nothing to him so he begins to feel tense.
“Hello?” Sunghoon calls out skittishly, but there’s no response. His heart rate picks up a little and he starts to think the boys are trying to pull some sort of childish prank on him. He leaves the room and makes slow steps down the hallway to the main area of the lodging house.
As he rounds the corner he doesn’t find any of the boys there though, he just sees you. His heart jumps at the realization. Sitting on the couch, in overall shorts and nothing else. Bare legs crossed and hands against the couch by your sides as you watch him peer around the corner with apprehension. You’re just sitting there, leaning forward and waiting for him to come find you.
Cowardly, Sunghoon makes a half turn. He presses his back against the wall of the hallway as if he could hide away or disappear into it. He even closes his eyes, thinking of a quick prayer to save him from this circumstance.
“Are you pretending to be shy or are you really this cute?” Your voice is teasing, and he can hear the wicked smile in it without seeing.
Feeling caught, he just sighs and slowly makes his way to the living area. He tries not to look at you, thinking you are too revealing. So he looks everywhere else and then to large windows that give view to the farm; none of the guys are in sight. Most likely somewhere goofing off. All he can see is the fields and farm buildings standing large in the distance.
He doesn’t move and speaks softly, “I should probably go find the others-”
You speak before he can finish his attempt of an excuse, “Come sit with me.” You pat the space on the couch next to yourself. Your voice sounds welcoming but he knows there’s an undertone of mischief.
He makes a quick glance to you and sucks in a breath at the view of your body that’s exposed from your overalls. The glimpse of the curve of your breast disappearing under the denim already makes him feel like he’s seen too much of you. And he has. He’s never seen such bare skin on a girl and he’s never been alone in a room with one either.
“Come sit with me, now.” You’re more stern this time, demanding in a gentle way. Your hand makes small movements, soothing over the material of the couch like you’re warming the space for him.
He visibly swallows as he makes his hesitant steps over to you. His heart is racing and with every beat there is a question of his strength. He sits down on the same sofa but not directly next to you like you want. You smirk nonetheless and turn to face him, sitting with your legs criss-cross now.
With your elbows to your knees you hold your head in your hands, watching the side of his face. You’re again realizing how sculpted his features are. Dark thick hair on his head, eyebrows and lashes too. An array of moles sprinkle his pale face. A sharp nose that sits above pink, full lips. You wonder if he knows of his own beauty. It’s fascinating to see such a person like him in front of you.
He’s sitting with perfect posture, not relaxing into the couch. Alert like a deer that’s waiting for too sudden of movement to pounce away. His eyes just watch the table, reading through the names of the board games that lay there as a way of distracting himself. He’s awkward.
“Uhm… d-does your family own this farm?” he tries for small talk to break the silence. His bottom lip finds itself between his teeth as he makes one quick look over to you. Luckily your overalls sit high up or he’d have a full view of your chest. He can’t help but think of the fact and it makes him shift uncomfortably.
“Do I make you nervous?” you question, seriously so. Brows pulled tight in a furrow with a straight face. You lean in even closer to him, watching for every change on his face.
“Yes,” his response is honestly quick and ends with a tight lip, like he’s holding his breath. He is yet to comprehend what is happening, still in a whirlwind of thoughts of what could—will—happen.
“Why?” Your head tilts slightly to the side, it makes him think of his roommate briefly. And man does he wish he were here to ease the tension.
He doesn’t want to admit that he’s never been in such close proximity with a girl alone before, so he just clears his throat and remains quiet after doing so.
Curiously, you bring a hand up with a pointed finger and brush the tip of it over the mole on the side of his nose. He jolts back at the sudden touch, his cheeks flushing a warm pink. His eyes now watch you with gentle confusion. He touches the same spot you did with a trembling hand.
“You have a constellation on your face. So many moles… Do you have a girlfriend?”
His face burns a little more, both from the observation and the question. He shakes his head, sitting himself further into the couch and further away from you. He can’t quite understand the situation. Are you messing with him? You seem too serious for such. Maybe you’re just weird like he initially thought. Either way he can feel his faith slipping; he is cupping holy water in hands during an earthquake.
“Did I do somethin’ wrong? Am I not pretty?” You pout to be playful with him, acting as if his actions are offending you. He takes it literally though.
“No!” his hands rest on his knees and he holds them hard, trying to find stability despite sitting down. “Y-you are… pretty,” his words grow quieter, like he’s sharing a secret. “I just don’t know you or why you want to talk to me.”
“Hm.” You lean your head back against the couch. With your eyes still on his face, you speak just as quietly, “I’m still trying to figure that out too.” After some beats of muted air you speak up again, but with more presence, “You came to work here. Why?”
“A man was handing out flyer ads at the church. I wanted a summer job.”
Is he always this direct and boring? And church, of fucking course. You roll your eyes, pushing yourself off the back cushion and even closer to the man. Your knees touch the side of his body and his thigh. He looks like he’s trying to control his breathing, to feign lack of disturbance, but his face says everything you need to know.
You place a hand on his thigh and his whole body stiffens at the action. Your smirk to yourself. It’s only resting there on the top of his jeans. “You act like a girl has never touched you before.” You give him a soft squeeze and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Well? Has a girl ever touched you?”
He shakes his head quickly, “No,” he breaks, feeling overwhelmed and wrong, “and I don’t think you should be. It’s against the churches values-”
“At your age you still follow the rules?” Your hand slides lower and back up his thigh, it’s a slow and teasing motion. There’s enjoyment in how scared he’s becoming.
Sunghoon knows that this is only going to lead him down a path he swore to God not to take. And if his parents were to know that in his first year away from home in the summer since college was locked in a lodge with a promiscuous girl he’d have it handed to him. The thought of their wrath makes him shiver all the more.
“I just don’t want to sin.” His eyes close and he bites down onto his lip again. He no longer cares if a stranger sees him as a loser or prude. His virtue is being tested in real time, and he’s feared facing this battle many times in the night because even in his dreams he loses.
“I’m only touching you. How is it a sin?” The tone of your voice changes, it’s soft like the hand that moves closer to in between his thighs. Your fingertips press into his clothed skin here and there, curiously feeling him up. You just try to get a reaction out of him. There’s a warm feeling in your stomach that you don’t recognize; it’s faintly familiar.
“Your hand isn’t supposed to be… there.” He makes a strained sound, something like a low whine, as your hand ghosts over his cock.
You look down to your movements for the first time and realize he’s sporting a half chub. You snicker quietly, cupping him in your palm. “Then why are you getting hard, Sunghoon? Do you like the way I’m touching you? I bet you’ve thought about doing this before too.”
He makes another noise, a whimper. He can’t bring himself to open his eyes and accept what’s happening. He also can’t find it in himself to stop you, or get up and leave. This wasn’t just a struggle with evil’s temptation but his own biological nature. Something yet to be explored, something that’s been scratching at his ribcage for years to be fed.
There’s too much he can’t admit in this moment. Starting with how he enjoys the sound of your voice, the slight accent and dialect difference he picks up. How the way his name leaves your lips makes him want to crumble like a burning church. And how he silently likes the fact he can’t control the way his body is reacting to your hands on him.
It’s all wrong, wrong, wrong. And he is weak.
“Answer me, Sunghoon.” Your hand presses down on him, feeling the growing hardness under your palm. You give him a small squeeze, massaging over the bulge. To your surprise he feels big. Your eyebrows quirk at this and then you look back to his face. A single tear runs down his face and you find satisfaction in it. “Lying is a sin too,” you remind him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hands fist the couch cushions at his sides. He grips the material so tight that his knuckles turn pink through the pale of his skin. His chest rises and falls through slow and deep breaths.
“You shouldn’t feel sorry for something that makes you feel good.” You palm over him a few more times, drawing out little moans and whimpers from him. He’s struggling to sit still. You can even feel him try not to push his hips back up into you; if only he would admit that he wants it. He’s practically pulsing beneath you, like there’s never been such a rush of blood to his cock in his life. You sigh dramatically and pull your hand away from him, sitting back to give him space. “That’s too bad. A good dog will always be loyal, huh?”
His eyes shoot open when he feels your hand is gone. He looks at you desperately with wet eyes, a small pout to his lips. You make him feel sick for wanting to ask why you stopped, or if he did something bad for you to take away his short-lived pleasure.
You smirk at his expression, so pitifully beautiful with want. “Have you ever touched yourself?” you ask, placing your hand over his that hasn’t let go of the couch. It takes you back when he flips his hand around to hold onto yours, clingy and wretched. His thumb brushes over your knuckles. Repulsed, you react quickly and take your hand away from him at his impulsive intimacy. It makes him frown with a meek whimper.
He shakes his head slowly, looking down to his lap. “I can’t.” He knows he’s not allowed to. His father was adamant through his puberty that he mustn’t succumb to his body’s natural taste for sin. He was told that sometimes the devil had a funny way of sneaking into a man’s mind. That Satan would haunt boys in their sleep to wake them up with guilt of uncontrollable lust to be like him.
“But you like when I do it, right?” You rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. His eyes look from your face to the thin opening of your overalls where your chest can be seen from the angle. He bites down hard and nods slowly. You coo, moving your hand back to his still hard, clothed cock. “I can make it go away if you want. You want that?”
He’s battling all the repressed things he’s been too afraid to explore; fearful of the swing of his parents belt he felt once long ago after being caught in a misunderstanding. In spite of it, he nods again. “It hurts.. Please, help me.” His voice is so quiet. Even he doesn’t want to hear his own pathetic begging.
Your fingers find the zipper of his jeans then you tug it down slowly as you stare at him. “You have to pull them down for me, okay? I can’t help you with just this.”
Sunghoon freezes for a second knowing he has control over being the one to take out his own cock. Yet apprehension leaves in a breath. Then he’s pulling the clothing down to his knees with frantic haste. You didn’t expect him to take everything off so fast but there’s a sense of pride in how eager you’ve made him become in such a short time.
You weren’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. His cock is as beautiful as him. Pale and raging pink, crying at the tip much like his eyes. He’s also big, bigger than you knew dicks could be. You thought they’d be ugly, gross and worm-like. But his is clean and pretty. It’s your first time seeing one in person; you wouldn’t let him know that.
You take him bare in your hands, feeling him like a foreign object. More curious of his body than in his pleasure in the moment. His body tenses then relaxes against the couch. A shaky, breathy moan leaves his lips. His eyes flutter at the contact of skin.
You squeeze him, making his moan weakly again. It’s heavy in your hand. Truly just a stick of warm flesh. A part of you wants to squeeze him as hard as you can just to see if it can break, but you withhold on hurting him for now. Not wanting to scare him too much in hopes of exploring him further through the summer.
Your hand wraps around the length as much as it can, pads of fingertips brushing over every vein and curve as you slowly move your hand up and down. When your thumb circles around his tip and flicks the leaking hole, his body lurches forward with a loud cry of a moan from him. You wonder if he’ll cum in the next few seconds of simply touching him.
“I think you’re a slut for a little pleasure, Sunghoon.” You use your palm to gather his precum, circling over the tip to smear the thick cream around. Then you drag it back down himself, wetting his cock in his own prerelease. It slides easier now, your hand. You move faster, jerking him off in lazy, inexperienced motions. Not that he would know anyways. “You gave into lust so easily, didn’t you? Must’ve wanted this for so long. Your body’s nasty, eager for it.”
In his ears, you make the nasty words sound delicious. And he wants to devour more and more, like the starved man he is. His hips snap up into your hard, sudden and rough. You wrap your free arm over his shoulders, a hand sneaking up into his hair to tug aggressively on the thick dark locks. You’re pulling his head back, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t be a whore. I’m helping you. I didn’t say fuck my hand.”
“Ahsh- I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he whines, tears burning his eyes, “it, it f-feels good. I feel so good.” His head falls to lean against yours, face burying into your hair. His head makes little shakes as he begins to cry, telling himself no, no.
“Shut up...” You don’t like how close he is to you. You only like doing so to tease him, but when he does it, it makes you feel a fiery anger in your chest and belly. Uncomfortable. Smothering.
Your hand works in sloppy motions. Pumping his pulsing cock to reach his orgasm. At the tip your wrist makes flicks with your thumb, working him up further and further.
He stutters out incoherent apologies into your hair throughout his sobs of wanton, whimpering moans. Everything about his body is sensitive to the new sensations. He can’t help but move his hips up into your hand, humping the small fist that’s fucking down onto him.
Confused by the warm, tight feeling flexing of his abdomen he whines against you, “I can’t- I can’t take it. My body feels weird now. Mmph, ‘m sorry. I don’t know what’s h-happening.” His body feels volcanic, ready to burst.
You continue your movements, jerking his reflexing length until he’s cumming into your hand. It’s a heavy load of thick, creamy mess. His voice is too close to your ear as he moans a drawn out needy sound. Your face remains plain while you pump him until he’s milked dry. His body flinches and curls into yours through the aftershocks, clearly overstimulated and over-sensitive. His arms snake around your waist to pull you against him.
You stare down at your hand that was earlier covered in the blood of a lamb and now the cum of a virgin. It looks like fucking snot, you realize with repulse. Without thinking you bring your hand up and lick the strange release. Your face scowls at the unknown taste so you just wipe the rest on your overalls. “You are disgusting,” you mutter.
Sunghoon remains silent aside from his sniffles, eyes peeking through his bangs to watch what you’re doing. He still hasn’t stopped clinging to your side, as if you could save him from his first lustful sin.
You push yourself up and off the couch, his body slightly falls to the side where he was leaning on you but he catches himself. He watches you with sad, scared eyes. You stare blankly in return then look out the window to see the group of men walking around the picnic table they ate at earlier.
“Farmhands will be leaving soon. Clean yourself up in the bathroom.” You don’t spare him another look, you just walk to the front door, unlock it, and leave. You ignore the way he looked like a sad abandoned puppy. Something about it angered you in the same way he was being clingy.
You walk back to your house with a slight skip to your steps. As you step through your front door, you’re about to head upstairs to your room but stop in your tracks because your mother speaks.
“Hate him all ya want,” your mothers words slur, she speaks slowly and tired-like, “but he was a good man. He used to love me… And then you came along.” You turn to the living room on your left where your mother lays on the couch, wine glass in hand and eyes heavy lidded. “I know what yer capable of. I’ve seen the things ya do on this farm, in this home.. When ya think no one is watching.. He just might be right about you.” You glare at her now. “There is something evil in ya, child. Leave that boy outta yer wickedness.”
Her wine glass falls to the floor from her fingers and she groans, turning to her side. You stare at her for a moment before walking up to your room.
Meanwhile Sunghoon spends his next 20 minutes in a spiral of guilt and shame. He cleans himself up in the restroom like you told him to. Then waits, watching outside the window for when the boys are gathered around the truck they drove in from the bus stop to leave in. It was hard for him to get the tears to end. He fell right into sin’s lustful trap and it made him feel so- No, it only made him feel hurt. Stupid. Bad.
On his bus ride back into the city he prays. Sitting in back, alone with his indignity, and head bowed low so no one could see his red rimmed, glossy eyes. Time goes by so fast that he nearly misses his stop to get off.
He ignores his roommate when he’s home. Jake, excited and curious of Sunghoon’s first day, is left cold. Sunghoon showers for longer than usual. He scrubs so harshly at his skin he turns red; unable to feel clean no matter how much he washes. He doesn’t eat dinner because he feels he doesn’t deserve to. He gets into bed earlier than most days too. He tries to sleep but the day haunts him, keeping him awake.
He’s up all night in tears, face in his pillow with the blanket thrown over his head, trying to hide from He who watches. The begs of forgiveness seem endless.
“Dear God,” he whimpers, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” He doesn’t sleep much that night because he can’t find it in himself to stop humping into his mattress in hopes to chase and achieve the feeling you gave him earlier. His hips rock his aching hard cock into the bed, anguished yet titillated. “Please, forgive me. Forgive me. I’m so sorry.” He continues to cry, drowning in his pillow, knowing he will do it again.
The next day on the farm is an early morning for everyone. Sunghoon sits quietly in the truck with the other summer volunteer farmharms. They talk amongst each other about the day’s schedule of duties and tasks. He struggles to keep his eyes open, head leaning against the window despite its bumps from the uneven dirt road. He thought about calling it quits on the whole job after yesterday, but couldn’t bring himself to. It’s for selfish reasons too. The ones that deepen his guilt.
The arrival to the farm is quicker than anticipated. Sunghoon forces himself to be more alert and awake, starting to pick up on the conversations between the others as he exits the parked truck.
“Do you think it’s still hanging there?” One says. “The lamb of slaughter?” Another dumbly asks with a snort. “Well yeah, dipshit. You guys think that girl did it? She was weird as hell.” A third voice chimes in, “Being covered in blood and then leaving a dead animal hanging from a tree is creepy as fuck. The lady was right, stay the hell away from her.” He laughs. The others walk away in continuous chatter, leaving Sunghoon by the truck.
Sunghoon is confused by this conversation and deeply disturbed. He doesn’t follow or press them with questions though. But it will give him much to think about for the day. He’s so exhausted from the lack of sleep, he wonders if he even heard them all correctly at all. Yeah, your whole introduction was strange but killing an animal and acting like nothing happened and then toying with him on the same day? Was all that really something a girl like you would do? He can’t say for sure because he doesn’t know you.
He goes about his morning tasks lazily. His mind is too busy with the thoughts of you. He thinks of when or if he’ll see you today. You haven’t shown around the farm all day. It’s only an hour before noon, he tries to rationalize with himself. He still ponders throughout his work. What time will you come? Will you mysteriously show up like yesterday? Will you touch him again? Will you let him feel good? Is he forgivable or going to burn in hell for wanting more?
He shakes his head to rid it of the thoughts. Perhaps he’s too hopeful. After lunch time he goes back to the farmers lodge to take a nap. At least that’s the realistic excuse he used. He struggles to even fall asleep because he’s so anxious about listening for any sound of you possibly coming back here.
His eyes, sullen and tired, just can’t stay open after half an hour of waiting. So eventually he does fall asleep. You never show up. When he wakes up from his long needed nap he somehow feels worse knowing you didn’t visit than he did committing his first sin.
The following day of work is a repeat. He doesn’t see you at all yet you occupy all of his thoughts. He thinks badly of himself for many reasons.
On the fourth day, you finally decide it’s time to check up on the poor boy. You watched Sunghoon mope around the farm for two days and it was cute at first but you’re getting bored again. You did like how his eyes were always searching around, hopeful that every sound he heard from behind or around corners was you. Knowing you had such an effect on him made you wonder how much more you could do to him.
From the window of your room, you watch when they all arrive. Your mother greets them like she does in the mornings and gives them all tasks that need to be completed for the day. It’s Thursday which means she’ll be out for a few hours to go into town and sort out business for products: cow and goat milk processing for cheeses and soaps. At least you assume considering you overheard her phone call about such the day prior.
You spend the morning around the house, reading and snacking on fruits, waiting for your mother to leave so you can proceed with your plan. There was some effort into your appearance today. You wear a spaghetti strapped white babydoll dress, lined at the bottom with sewn embroideries. It’s simple and flows nicely above your knees when you walk. You hate it because it alludes to soft purity but at least it feels good to dress light in the summer heat. And it might make you all the more approachable to feeble Sunghoon.
After about an hour, your mother finally leaves. You give it about 10 minutes before you’re shoving on your boots and leaving the house. Some of the blood from earlier in the week still stains the brown leather; you did clean them off but clearly not to the best extent. You’re okay with that though, it seems prettier this way to you.
Looking and walking around the property, you see the scattered farmhands busy with different things. The sun isn’t kind today, it’s piercing in brightness and temperature. The sweat begins to seep from your pores in a matter of minutes, making you feel sticky. You run a hand through your tangled hair, fingers getting caught in unbrushed knots that you yank through anyways. You don’t see Sunghoon anywhere that’s directly under the sun. You continue to search around the farm, gaining a few cautious looks from the other workers. As you walk past their gazes you wear a wry smile with a tilt to your head. They look away quickly after being caught staring.
Some wandering in and out of the different barns and coops are done. He wasn’t in any of them though. You greet the animals you pass by and give pats to some of the cows. “Have you guys seen him nearby? I’m not a fan of hide and seek.” You mumble to one of the goats, scratching lightly beneath its chin while it chews away at grains and hay. It maas in return. You pull your hand back out from the stable then leave to continue the manhunt.
It’s when you’re walking by the horses’ stables that you see they’ve already been cared for, telling you that someone was here already. You glance to the smaller shed nearby, having a suspicious inkling that it's where Sunghoon is. You walk to the shed and see yourself inside. And he is. He has his back turned to you, standing at a work bench table and cleaning something off.
You walk up behind him, the sound of your footsteps being dulled by the scattered hay on the wooden floors; he doesn’t notice that you entered the space, clearly lost in his own thoughts. You tap his shoulder which makes him spin around in surprise, dropping the brushes he was cleaning.
Sunghoon’s eyes are wide at the sight of you standing so close to him. You can tell he’s lost sleep by the dark circles around his eyes and how his complexion is impossibly paler. His mouth is stuttering to find words, opening and closing.
You step closer to him and he steps back, his backside now pressing against the table. It wobbles on the uneven wooden stilts that hold it up. Reflexively, his hands reach back to hold onto the table, but he’s using it for his own stability. You simply stand there in between his legs, staring up at his face and taking in all the details that differ from the last time you saw him. He swallows, quietly watching your face in return.
“I haven’t seen you around.” Sunghoon speaks first, his voice a soft surrender. You feel his breath on your face.
“I know. I saw you though. You missed me.” You state bluntly, taking note of the little fangs he has for teeth. He probably bites good, you think, licking the back of your own teeth.
“If you saw me then why didn’t you…” he trails off into a quiet again, closing his eyes for a moment with a sigh. “I wouldn’t call it that.” His eyes open again as he feels your hands on his chest, sliding up his white tank and underneath the sleeves of his denim jacket to his shoulders. He bites down, suddenly stiff.
Ignoring his response you continue, “How can you wear this when it’s so warm out?” Your hands slide over his shoulders and down his toned arms, the jacket slips down to reveal the toned limbs. Your eyebrows raise at the sight yet your face remains relatively blank. “You’ve got muscle. Good for farm work.” Small hands continue to run over the smooth milk-like skin, learning every curve of his lean built physique. It’s not sexual, just exploratory.
Sunghoon sucks in a breath, watching you inspect him. He begins to feel flustered, relishing in the contact of skin on his. You notice his tense body and ask him if it’s okay, to which replies a raspy stutter, “Y-yeah.” Your hands slide down his arms and back up to his shoulders. Then down his chest and body to stop at the waistline of his jeans. He has a nice body; he must be athletic. You don’t care to ask in what ways. Your fingers dip into his jeans just slightly to pull him in closer to you, he gasps, his growing cock pressing against your stomach.
“Sunghoon,” You ridicule him, tsking under your breath at the pressure you feel of his arousal. “Already?” You look up at him but he can’t meet your eyes, feeling embarrassed. You play with the waistline, your fingertips running back and forth between the denim and his skin. “Is this sinning?” It’s a soft question yet mocking. He only shakes his head, nervously gnawing at his bottom lip. “Do you want to?” He whimpers, slowly nodding his head. You take your hands off him, crossing your arms. “You have to tell me. Look at me and tell me.”
He looks back at you dispirited. He knows that you know what he wants. And here you are making him admit it outloud, both to you and God. “Please.” He begs quietly, hoping it only reaches your ears and not the sky’s. “I want you.”
There’s that feeling again. The lit match that falls from your throat to the gasoline of your stomach that erupts in flames. Fire to your abdomen and loins; it’s an angry feeling, sparked by his honest admit of want, and for you specifically. You watch him with narrowed eyes while mumbling, “you revolt me.”
He doesn’t reply to your venomous insult. It stings to hear the degrading words in both his heart and pants; he thinks himself disgraceful too.
You drop to your knees, hands finding place back on his jeans to undo his zipper. He stares down at you in bated breath, hands still gripping tight on the table behind him. His are pulled down slowly, purposely so. You watch him writher, body and face. “Did you do it again?” you question, looking up at him from below. He would never avow to how the sight of you on your knees alone makes him ache all the more.
He wants to tear his eyes away from you but he can’t. The image of you in your white dress on the ground before him needs to be burned into his memory. He stutters a mumble of words but you don’t catch anything, if he even said a coherent response at all. You ask again, pinching his thigh. He tries to hum over the strained noise in the back of his throat, “Yes.. I mean no! B-but I didn’t touch myself.”
You try not to giggle, biting the inside of your cheek. Knowing he wanted to feel that way again but couldn’t on his own gave you a funny sense of power over him. One of your hands traces the outline of his hard cock through his boxer briefs. “You make a mess?” He shivers at the feeling of your breath on his suffocating length. He breathes out a ‘no’ while you lick a strip over the material. “Why not? I showed you how.”
He moans softly, trying not to let his hips chase after the feeling that he’s been after for days. “You know I can’t,” he exhales. You roll your eyes, mouthing and licking at him languidly. Your hands are still half tugging at the material that keeps him hidden. A faint pool of precum quickly stains his boxers.
“Sunghoon,” you look up at him with your chin resting on the bulge. He swallows hard, acknowledging you with a hum. “You will never be free from it. The sin I let you taste will forever linger on the tip of your tongue, begging and licking to taste more in crave. No holy blessed water can possibly cleanse you even if you drown in it.”
His bottom lip pouts out with a little droning whine. He should defend himself, say that his faith is stronger than he is and that his soul is saveable by mercy. But a part of him also feels that doesn’t want to be. His eyes begin to well with tears.
“Not even a god could make you pure again,” you give him a small smile and pat his naked thigh before pulling down his underwear. His cock now free slaps his stomach to which he breathes out heavily. You grab him with both hands, giving him one last look before taking the leaking head into your mouth. Hands working on him steadily.
“T-that’s dirty!” he leans forward with a low sounding moan, his hands on your head and in your hair. Your eyes go wide at this. “Why would you put that in your mouth?!” he gasps, the warm wetness around his tip making him dizzy. “This is so vulgar, oh God, forgive me.” he cries, not pulling your mouth off of him but holding you there.
You circle your tongue around the tip and over his leaking slit, licking the beads of precum that leak out. It makes your grimace before you lean back, a wet pop as your mouth leaves. “Enough of your penitence, and take your hands off me.” It sounds like a warning to which he complies without question, only a hushed apology. He’s the one who wants to be touched anyways, not you.
You take him into your mouth again, your lips wrap around him in a painful stretch to accommodate his size. He sits heavy on your tongue that lays flat underneath, doing what you can with it. Your hands at the base work around him, jerking and squeezing him like you did before. You weren’t really sure what you were doing, mainly just mocking the actions you read about in books. It seems to be working for Sunghoon regardless because he can barely hold himself together. Whining and whimpering through fat tears, whole body shuddering from the overwhelming wet heat of your mouth.
His jaw goes slack, mouth hung open only to elicit a breathless moan. His head rolls back on his neck and his eyes flutter to a close. The feeling of your mouth wrapping around him is hot heaven. His body trembles with the new, sweeping sensation. Stomach already tight with contracting muscles. He thinks he could pass out.
Watching his face, him, discover and feel pleasurable sin is slightly euphoric to you. You’ve seen it in movies and read of it in books, but it was something you never quite fully explored yourself. There’s been a few instances that you did touch yourself; it always felt empty or like something was always missing. There’s little to no excitement when doing it alone in shameful hiding. Witnessing, causing such debauchery is different somehow. Safer in ways you didn’t dwell in thought on. You do wish he would stop crying about it, you find it pathetic of him in a provoked way.
Involuntarily, he thrusts himself down your throat with a guttural groan. You gag and cough around him, tears sting your eyes that make you squeeze them shut—refusing to let a single one dare to escape. Now it felt like a challenge. One to which you wouldn’t back down in fear of looking weak.
Your hands hold his thighs roughly, bruisingly so if you had the strength. You move his body in a small back and forth motion, encouraging him to continue his movements. You’re looking up at him with glazed over eyes and a slight nod. He chokes a sob at the sight, you on your knees not to pray but to devour him.
“Ah, I- I’m sorry. Your mouth is so wet, so warm.” He starts off with shallow thrusts, dragging his cock along your wet muscle. His hips stutter while his world seems to be crashing down. “This is so dirty. You look so dirty. And—ngh—it’s.. it’s so good. It’s so good,” he babbles, pushing himself as far down into your mouth as he can. His tip kisses the back of your throat making you gag around him. Your nails digging into the flesh of his strong legs. He can’t stop moaning and whimpering, becoming a slave to pleasure.
He watches your face. Hollowed cheeks sucking and swallowing around him, the tightness of your throat around him hugging and contracting through chokes that reverberate your body to his cock. The spit that leaks from your lips and all over him is obscene, such a sinful mess. He so badly wants to grab your head and force himself down further, but his nails dig into the wood of the table instead.
“Hm, I can’t—” he moans your name, thrusting rougher now. His whole body crumbling in on itself, chasing the feeling of release.
Then there’s the sound of footsteps and a few voices that follow. Sunghoon sucks in a deep breath, taking a fist to his mouth to bite down onto. He looks at you in fear because of the proximity of the other farmhands right outside. This only makes you smirk around him, a glint of evil in your eyes. He shakes his head hurriedly, stopping his movements—as if that would make you both disappear.
You push yourself off his cock, licking over your cracked and saliva covered lips. You bring a finger to your lips and shush him. “Be quiet or they’ll find out what a nasty whore you are. Unless you want that.” Your voice is quiet and raspy from the abuse of him fucking himself down your throat. You stare into his eyes intently before taking him back in. He glances from you to the door of the shed, his body shaking.
You slurp and suck him up, purposely loud and sloppy. A hand jerking off the base that doesn’t quite fit in your mouth. He cries quietly with his mouth open, meek and desperate sounds escape that he can’t withhold. “Please…” He’s whimpering, begging for something that he doesn’t know the context of.
“Do you think the extra feed is in this one?” A voice questions, the door being opened just a crack.
Sunghoon quickly tries to bend down for his jeans but you slap his hand away, pushing him back into the table. You grip his thighs and force yourself to take all of him down. You gag around him, eyes never leaving his panicky and fucked out face. His face silently begs for you that enough is enough but you don’t stop, because a part of you knows he doesn’t want you to either.
“It doesn’t hurt to check, does it?” The other replies with a light chuckle. “Could take a break for some shade too while we’re at it.” The door opens slowly with an agonizing creak, sunlight barely pouring.
Each passing second feels like an eternity to him. The door is still only cracked, not enough for them to see inside but it’s cutting it close. His cock twitches at the thought of being caught with his dick down the throat of the farmer’s daughter. A blazing adrenaline rushes through him.
Sunghoon can’t bear it any longer. His hands find purchase on the back of your head, pushing himself completely into your mouth. His hips stutter with a whimper on his lips as the hot cum pours down your throat. “Ah, sh- ngh!” You smack at his legs for him to release the hold, choking for air to breathe. You instinctively swallow around him, consuming his load of sin.
“You dumbass! The horses are already fed, let’s just go for a water break.” The door slams back on itself to a close. Their footsteps can be heard walking away.
Sunghoon breathes heavily, letting go of you. His body instantly relaxing back with his elbows on the table to support him. Meanwhile you fall onto your ass, a hand around your throat while you gasp for air through rough coughs. “What the fuck did I say about putting your hands on me?” You rasp before coughing again. The taste of him sits on the back of your tongue no matter how much you swallow.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “we shouldn’t get caught.” He pulls his pants and boxers back up then extends a hand to you, an offering to help you stand back up.
You scoff, ignoring his hand and stand up on your own. You brush the dirt and stray strands of hay from your knees. “Whatever. We both got what we wanted.” You start to turn for the door to leave the shed with the thought of brushing your teeth in mind.
Sunghoon, confused as to what you could’ve gotten out of helping him, just reaches for your hand. He grabs you and pulls you back to look at him. His eyes are sad, maybe even a little afraid by your haste to leave. “Y-you’re just going to leave me again?” He sounds broken by the fact.
“What?” You can’t help but breathe a laugh, “Did you expect me to do more?” You ask with raised brows.
“No! No, not like that.. But..” He swallows his pride, “I- I don’t know. Just don’t leave yet. Please.”
You blink at him, scanning his features like a robot in calculation. The pleading of his expression and his words aggravate you. A fiery burning to your insides and the skin that he touches, that he reached for. You look down to his tight grip on your hand before yanking it away. You don’t say anything more, and neither does he. He wipes his eyes from whatever salty wetness is still there.
A moment of silence solidifies your decision. You beckon him to follow you out and he does.
For the rest of his work day you remain. You try not to think about why. But subconsciously you know it’s because for the first time someone willingly wants to be by your side. At first you imagine it’s because of what you’ve done for him—gave him what any man desires: pleasure. A man falling into temptation is far too easy.
Though he doesn’t ask for more and he doesn’t bring it up. Almost like it never happened.
It seems like he really just wants to be around you. There’s little said between each other. It’s just idle farm work with company. And it’s more peaceful than you expected it to be. He didn’t touch you, question you, or do much at all to bother you in general.
Sometimes he stares at you, but you do the same to him. He even gives a sheepish smile when he catches you; it doesn’t get returned. That doesn’t bother him though. He thinks you look beautiful on the farm in your dress with dirt covered hands and hair messy from the wind. He hopes to tell you that one day but for now he stays shy, still weary and afraid.
The sun shines relentlessly unless a cloud mercifully passes by. The breeze is rare yet kind. The animals make their sounds to sing a collective song. The trees and crops sway like waving hands of hellos and goodbyes, depending on where you’re headed to or from. It’s not so bad.
Two weeks go by. Time flies by for both you and Sunghoon. He comes to work during the week, and he spends his weekends missing you. He doesn’t know what you two are to each other, and he’s too scared to ask. There’s definitely been changes to the dynamic, however. Subtly so. You still don’t smile, or let him touch you. You roll your eyes and insult him if he’s too emotional. But you’re there.
Certainly not everyday, but most, you spend his work days with him. It’s easier to be around one another. There can be small talk, usually about the farm or the weather. Still much to be learned about on a personal level, but he’s fine with the pace of the relationship (outside of the unholy acts that are committed). Sometimes you even end up helping him. Or at least he thinks of it that way. In reality you don’t like how he does things and take over to do it yourself.
You still tease him in your cruel ways. Always ending with him in a mess because he’s easily worked up by your handsy curiosity. He caves into you every time because he can’t fight the divinity that you show him.
There are other times where you confuse him. You suggest a water break knowing he’d gone hours without hydration under the summer heat. You insist on having him take a break under a roof away from the sun when his skin gets too sweaty or red. Which is followed by a reminder that sunscreen is important if he wishes to keep his milky complexion. It’s critical statements that you provide him, but he can’t help to think it’s a weird way of showing you care.
Sure, it could be seen as you selfishly saying these things because it’s what you want for yourself, but in the back of his mind he’s very aware of how you watch and cater to him. It makes his heart jump every time and butterflies swarm his stomach. He can’t help it. The little things, the small acts of kindness—that you might not even intend—make him delusionally overthink.
On the third weekend since starting his summer job, Jake can’t help all the questions he’s been building up and dying to ask. Jake doesn’t understand what Sunghoon has been going through, especially when his moods change so drastically. At first, Sunghoon was self isolating and pouty, clearly in his own head and sulking. But then he would come home from work beaming with an afterglow to his aura. And then on the weekends he was back to his reclusive, depressed state.
Sick of being left out of Sunghoon’s inner turmoil, Jake finally pesters his friend.
“When are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Jake stands in the doorway of Sunghoon’s room, staring at his friend who’s laying face down in his bed.
“I don’t know…” Sunghoon’s words are muffled in his pillow.
Jake walks in with a sigh and sits at the end of the bed. He playfully slaps Sunghoon’s leg. “Dude, just tell me. You’re obviously going through something. You know I can keep a secret. I won’t judge.”
Sunghoon rolls over on his back, his hands clasped together over his stomach as he stares up to the ceiling. He confides in Jake, telling his story from the beginning of when he first met you. He stutters over his words when he admits to the sinful acts he partook in with you. He tells Jake of his guilty conscience and how he enjoyed indulging in the feelings. Then he tells Jake about how he simply likes your company even without the sexual circumstances involved. How he’s mystified by your complex personality and only wishes to know you more. However, he does leave out the viciousness of your nature, since a part of him doesn’t quite believe in it.
“It seems like you’re starting to develop a crush.” Jake laughs lightly, “And if it’s about religion, don’t overthink it too much. Nobody dies completely pure.” He reassures him. “You should show her more of you. That you like her too.”
Sunghoon groans and covers his face at the terrifying suggestion. If only you were that easy to approach in such a vulnerable way. “I guess… I’ll consider it.”
The next day is Sunday. Jake and Sunghoon attend church as normal. Sunghoon participates less in his prayers and songs than usual. His mind is too preoccupied with all he has going on in life. He feels guilt and frustration.
Sunghoon, lost in his own world, fails to realize that his best friend—Jake—battles something similar internally.
You’re never as alone as you think you are if you take a better look around. Everyone is riddled with their own self disgust, guilt, or shame. How else would the churches be so full?
Entering the fourth week of summer should feel easier than it does for Sunghoon. The work seems to be picking up regarding responsibilities. The weather is only becoming less forgivable. The peak is yet to hit, but that only means the seasonal storms are right around the corner. More care is needed in the fields and barns in terms of protection in case of unpredictable weather.
Aside from the work, Sunghoon is anxious because of you. He hasn’t seen you yet today and he feels nervous about it. Perhaps he has grown too clingy, finding close comfort in knowing you’re there with him on the farm. There’s a sense of safety when you’re in the line of sight; you make things easier for him and he enjoys the presence.
While he’s watering plants and checking the sprinklings through the fields, an older man approaches him. It’s a familiar face that he’s seen around a few times over the past month. The man waves with a smile and Sunghoon does the same.
“It’s amazing what you’ve done, boy.” The man begins, Sunghoon questions where he’s going with the start because he’s just an extra hand of help and doesn’t feel he’s accomplished or improved the farm in drastic ways. “I’ve worked here, hm, well I’ll be damned! Nearly 15 years! And I’ve never once seen that farm girl talk to anyone. Much less spend time.” the man chuckles.
“Oh!” Sunghoon blushes and hopes it’s only mistaken as feverish from the summer. He smiles small and stares down to the bundle of plants he brought with him to the farm today. He feels special knowing this much of you. “She’s something…”
“Sometimes I’d see her talk to herself and the animals.” The man pulls out a cigarette and lighter to smoke. “She’d walk around aimlessly like a ghost. Used to scare the hell outta me.” As he laughs, smoke escapes his lungs. He wheezes a little before continuing, “But now she follows and watches you like she’s worshipin’. If only she did the same with her daddy. Although with a face like yours, I can’t blame the girl.”
“Pardon? What do you mean by that?” Sunghoon, bemused, watches the man smoke and laugh between weak coughs. “She has a dad?” His last question is overroad by the man who speaks over him.
“You keep up your work, kid. I outta get back to mines too.” And then he’s walking away with a low chuckle, shaking his head to himself.
Sunghoon’s aware of your mother. He always thought it was just the two of you running things. He’s never once seen a man, your father, leave the house or so much so be around it. This gives him more to think about, especially on the fact that he still doesn't know much about you at all. You’re still an enigma to him, but he wants everything.
By the afternoon when all the guys are finishing up their break, you finally come out of the house. With the sound of the front door opening, Sunghoon is quick to straighten his posture and find your eyes. You’re already looking at him, watching him and his surroundings with no expression. His cheeks burn and he can’t help the smile forming on his lips.
Two and a half days without seeing you feels like so much longer.
He stands up from the picnic table, grabbing his newspaper wrapped bundle of greenery and shyly hiding it behind his back. He walks over to you, tripping over his feet as he approaches the porch steps to the house. You stand there in front of the door but at the top of the few stairs, arms crossed and amused.
He’s diffident, arms behind him and modestly attempting to hide how nervous he feels on the inside. His stomach is doing flips, his heart racing. On top of already sweating. He feels like he could throw up his lunch right in front of your feet. He swallows thickly before slowly bringing his hands out in front of himself.
“I,” he clears his throat, “ehem, I got these for you.” With outstretched arms, the bundle of flowers shake in his trembling hands. He suddenly feels he’s too nervous to even meet your eyes, so he watches the chipped paint wood of the front porch steps.
You just stand there, watching him with wide eyes and your heart in your throat. Your mouth is lost for words, glancing around at the few farmhands who haven’t left yet and are staring at Sunghoon’s exchange in a similar bewilderment. Some are trying to keep themselves from bursting out into laughter.
“Are you some kind of stupid?” You whisper harshly for only him to hear, snatching the flowers out of his hands. “Why the hell would you do this?” Your words like your tone are mean, but in your chest there’s a raging pounding. It’s a seething raw emotion that doesn’t know how to be dealt with. You’ve only just stepped out of the house and your body feels like it’s inside a furnace.
Sunghoon’s head shoots back up to look at you, his face and heart drop. “I-I’ve never had a girlfriend before so I wasn’t sure what to do.. This is what boyfriends do, right?” He takes a hand to scratch at the back of his head. Inner turmoil takes over and he thinks he’s fucked up. He bites at his lip, doing his best not to instantly cry in regret.
You notice this and sigh, irritated. You look from the neatly wrapped white roses and tulips and back to Sunghoon. “So you are stupid,” you mumble before taking your own bottom lip between your teeth. A part of you wants to sneer, but you spin on your heels to hide the warmth that floods your face in substitution. “I’m throwing them away,” you announce, opening the door and walking back inside your house.
Sunghoon, broken, just drops his head and turns back. A few of the farmhands are snickering from not too far away, chattering among each other and eyeing Sunghoon. He wishes God would smite him on the spot from the humiliation.
Wanting to avoid everything for a little while, he thinks of heading to the lodge to lay down in hiding. But before he can walk away, the front door of your house swings open once more. He glances back at you, meeting your eyes like he always seems to do.
“Done for the day already?” You call over to him, now leaning over the banister of the porch with crossed arms.
Sunghoon, unable to refute you, offers a weak smile and shakes his head. “No.”
He walks back over to you and you meet him halfway. You don’t say anything else. You don’t bring up the fact that he had bought you flowers or confused the odd relationship you share for dating. It’s cute in all its blind innocence, but that just goes to show you that you have more work to do with him.
You don’t think of messing with him today. He’s distinctly grown too clingy with how much time you’ve spent with him. Yet you can’t ignore him either. The two of you carry out the rest of the day’s farm work in silence. The inner fury you feel with him doesn’t seem to go away, despite how he hasn’t said much or even brushed skin with you.
You don’t know how you’re remaining pacific by his side. The rampaging of your heart strings tug like a screaming instrument just from being next to him. How he can keep walking tall, stare at you when he thinks you aren’t looking, or even smile at you is beyond what you know is capable of humans. Men like him only existed in books and movies. You wonder if he’s perhaps playing a game like you.
By the time he’s in the truck to go back to town to catch a bus into the city, you’re sitting at the lake dock. Criss crossed legs, a bouncing knee, and fingernails being ripped at by your teeth. You stare blankly at the water, hoping for that sense of serenity to encapsulate you. It never seems to come. It just feels cold.
So you decide on punishing him for making you feel this way.
You don’t leave your house for the next three days. You don’t make yourself known, heard or seen. However, you’re peeking out every window of your house to get any chance of a view of him. You hate yourself for being so curious of him in the first place. What was supposed to be good fun has only left you feeling angry. Taking his innocence was never going to heal you, or even make him like yourself. In fact, it’s making you sicker.
And on the night of the fourth Thursday, you’re laying in bed staring at your ceiling. A stuffed animal is hugged tightly to your chest. You can’t sleep and you can’t stop thinking about someone for the first time in your life. No amount of tossing and turning, counting sheep, or button presses to your distorted singing, stuffed bear made it easier.
Somehow, you ended up punishing yourself. You always had a knack for that, historically, but this time felt different. It actually kind of hurt. Being alone came naturally to you, but tonight it hits you just how lonely you’ve always been.
Friday, the farmhands are huddled on the front porch of your house. All the animals are safely away in their designated homes thanks to their help. It started to storm in a heavy downpour only minutes ago. What started out as a dark gray gloom and windy rain quickly turned into an early flooded property, illuminated by strikes of flashing lightning and roaring thunder.
You stand dry under the protection of the porch roof by the front door. Watching and listening to your mother suggest the shaking cold, soaked men take shelter in the lodge until the sky lets up so they can head home.
Sunghoon hasn’t spared a look to you all day, but you know that he feels his eyes on you. It’s in the way he shifts awkwardly amongst the men that ignore him. How his eyes are trained low and unfocused yet always trying to move in your direction. His wet hair falls over his face, concealing his emotions you wish to dissect. He comes off as stoic but you know he wears his heart on his sleeve; how his body language speaks volumes.
Your mother pushes past you to get back inside, saying she’ll check the basement for a spare heater that the boys could use at the lodge. There’s something in you that makes you move without thinking. Suddenly a hand is tugging at the bottom of Sunghoon’s damp jacket for his attention. The material is too thin for this weather and the thought of him becoming sick crosses your mind.
“It’s warmer here,” your words, for once, came out soft. Too much so, being lost in the cracking sound of thunder. He looks at you through his bangs. The wave of alleviation from whatever he was dealing with is palpable. His eyes and body almost look relaxed. You tug him towards you once more, insinuating that he follows you.
He does. Like whatever subconscious emotion made you approach him also made him follow you in. As he steps in, he notices the indistinguishable vibes of the farmer’s lodge. It’s updated and cleaner, but similar in aesthetics. A shotgun sits leaning up against the wall by the front door. His brows furrow and eyes narrow. “Those aren’t safe to have lying around…” he mumbles.
You tug him towards the staircase to walk up, “It’s protection. Only my mother and I are here,” is mumbled back as you lead him up the wooden, creaking stairs. Your feet move light and quick, like a mouse in a home not theirs. If your mother saw you, there would be unnecessary consequences. And the possibility of your father’s involvement would only worsen such.
Sunghoon cautiously steps into your bedroom, his body tenses at the sound of you shutting and locking the door. He feels on edge, wrapping his arms around his shivering body and soaked clothes. You move around him to sit on your bed, telling him to remove his sopping attire. He does so with shaking hands, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. He shyly looks around the room while using his hands to cover his manhoon.
His eyes scan over you, sitting quietly on your bed with a look of contemplation that stares past him. A wooden cross hangs on the wall above your bed, the dark wood matches the decadent bed frame. The nightstand nearby has a pile of books and journals with a low light lamp and unlit candle.
The large window has sheer white curtains drawn open and a vase on the windowsill. A glass vase filled with the flowers he gave you earlier in the week. His heart aches at the sight of the still healthy white roses and tulips, and a smile graces his lips. You liar! You kept them! Is what runs through his thoughts.
Without Sunghoon realizing, you got up to grab a towel and drape over the back of his shoulders. He’s taken aback by your ghost-like actions, but offers you a small smile of appreciation. “Thanks…”
You nod for response and glance from him to the vase of flowers he was lost in thought over. You didn’t have it in to explain yourself, mostly because you didn’t understand why you had done so either.
He dries himself off and finds a place to sit at the end of your bed. You’re on the other end with your back pressed to the headboard, watching him, counting every mole you can find on his pale canvas. The stuffed animal you sleep with is being mindlessly fumbled around in your hands.
Sunghoon turns to face you directly, he reaches a hand out, eyes shifting from your face and the winged bear. You shoot him a mean look at first, only holding it closer to yourself before your face softens to slowly extend it out to him.
He takes it with careful hands and looks down to inspect the old toy. Its cream colored fur is dirtied and matted with age. The holographic satin wings on the back have loose stitching and its halo is crooked. Across the chest of the bear reads ‘Jesus Loves Me’ but it’s obvious the sewn name Jesus has been ripped away at. One paw has a red heart embroidered saying ‘press me’. His thumb brushes over the button heart before pressing down. The bear sings in a distorted happy voice the lullaby of Jesus loves me.
“His name is Saint Michael,” you say quietly and he almost doesn’t catch it. Sunghoon can only breathe a laugh because he finds the dichotomy cute. You almost laugh too, but bite your tongue and look back to your empty hands. You don’t know it but he can see you try to fight your little smile. To him, this moment means more than anything; he’s starting to see you’re more tender than you realize. It brings him a sense of surety in knowing that he can break you like you to do him.
Silly as it may seem for a troubled girl, the bear was the only comfort you had throughout childhood. There was no kindness from your father, no solace from your mother, no guide in knowing life or love. But there was Saint Michael, the stuffed angel bear; he may not have defended you in battle but he hugged you back, and that was enough to cherish him like a deity.
Sunghoon crawls across the bed and sits himself next to you, too close for your liking, but you don’t push him away. He hands the stuffie back to you and you place it on the nightstand to face away from you. You lower yourself in the bed, shuffling under the covers of the blanket and he does the same. His skin naked bare yearns for more warmth, yours specifically.
You feel him turn on his side next to you, pressing up against you despite there being enough space on the bed. His movements are awkward and nervous like he is. You feel a certain pressure against your thigh that isn’t his bones or limbs. You spare him a glance, he doesn’t know if it’s a warning or dare.
“...Have I ruined you?” You wonder aloud, looking back to the ceiling.
“No,” he answers quickly, shaking his head against your shoulder. The way he’s missed you in his desire to touch you, hands tingling with want to snake around your waist and pull you in tight. “I think I just want you all the time now. I can’t help it, m’sorry.” He sounds ashamed in his soft mumbles.
“I’ll only keep stripping all that purity from you. Once it’s mine it’ll remain mine, you know that right?” You look back at him before brushing some of his drying hair from his eyes. He tries to lean up into the touch but your hand is taken back. “And I will pretend it’s healing all that’s missing from me. Do you really want to be mine, Sunghoon?” Your words are so gentle yet laced with threat.
“Yes,” he exhales, “I want to be yours. Let me be yours please.” It’s hushed, a secret prayer with hope. His hips push further into the skin of your leg, where the hip meets the thigh. He wouldn’t mind going to Hell if it meant more time with you.
“You beg like a needy barn animal in heat.” You use a hand to cup his face, he sighs into the hold as he eyes flutter to a close. You push your leg in between his, terribly close to his exposed and vibrating body. “So hump me like one.”
“W-what?” he stutters out before licking over his lips, his thighs squeezing around the plush of yours now trapped in his. His eyes already wet with desperate want, staring back at yours.
“Do it. Like it’s mating season and you want to claim me before anyone else.”
A cracked voice whine falls from his lips and he begins to roll his growing bulge against you. You watch as he sucks in breaths between quiet breathy moans. His pink, plump lips pursing and falling open. His eyes try to stay on your face, how close you are to him, but they fall shut sometimes in his basking of rapture. It’s a slutty sight of a faith-sickened boy.
He loves the little to no proximity that there is. His hands find place on your waist, and he’s aware of how that makes you feel, but he can’t stop it. He wants more and more of you. His hands slide up under your shirt, the feeling on your bare skin in his hands makes his body shudder. Untouched, warm flesh for his large hands to explore and learn every curve of.
Even you stiffen at his exploration, holding in your breath as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe. Your shirt lifts up more with his hands and the exposure is daunting like you’re revealing your insides.
The pit of your stomach lights up and you're frozen under his clutch. The pads of his fingers hold you so tight as if he’s scared you’ll disappear. His cock is raging and you can feel every pulse of blood that his heart beat floods to. He’s humping into you desperately, chasing the euphoria that he could never find on his own. Such a delicate, shy boy now driven by lust and longing.
“You’re pathetic and disgusting. You’re practically fucking me through our clothes,” you murmur while you try to push his hands down off you, but his grip won’t let up. Instead his nails dig further into you, a barely sounding broken noise escapes you from the pain. This makes his body collapse further into you, his head dropping between your shoulder and neck. His movements are sloppy and rushed.
“N-no, I’m still good. You make me feel good, I am so good,” he whines, tears beginning to fall from his eyes to your shoulder. You try to imagine his holy water is washing you clean but it only singes.
“Tell me that only I make you feel good, that you’re only good for me.”
“Only you—can only be you to make me good,” he cries against your warmth, rocking himself into you roughly. His leaking cock begins to twitch against you and his hips won’t quit their stuttered jerks.
You hum lightly and run a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He looks up at you with those desperate, wet, dark eyes and you can’t help but acknowledge how pretty he is like this. His puffy cheeks are flushed pink as the tip of his nose. “Only for me,” you mumble.
“Yes, thank you, I am yours. Yes.” His breaths are jagged and heavy. There’s a coiling in his abdomen that feels borderline explosive. You were right, he craves this feeling. It’s surreal to him how he’s gone so long without it. His arms wrap around you completely now, holding you down while his body rolls on top of yours, situated between your legs. His heart hammers against your chest; he wants to mold into you, to become a singular rot.
You squeak a gasp, being caged down by him. Your heart beats with the same veracity. One of your arms wraps around his waist to hold his back while the other holds the back of his head that hasn’t left the safety of your neck. He continuously sobs through meek moans. His hair tickles your skin like sparks while his lips brush over your jaw and neck making the tingle feel like crackling flames.
Under his weight you feel yourself slipping in both confidence and dominance, your body wanting to sink down in submission from the unknown comfort of his control. Your heart aches and you feel something you’ve never felt before. You think you’re scared of it, yet your body pulls him closer. Hand in his hair, tugging with fearful aggression. Nails piercing the skin of his shoulder blade. You’re pliant under his heavy thrusts and sounds of sin.
The rain pours harder outside with whips of harsh winds smacking the window. It’s almost like God’s wrath is screaming to be seen, to shout that He is watching.
Sunghoon’s hard cock is relentless against your core. The rough grind of him is stimulating in ways you’ve never felt before, your body sensitive and starving for more. You squeeze your eyes shut and moan within your closed mouth, hating yourself for feeling this way because it was never supposed to be about you. You are betraying yourself more than your fathers.
The sounds you try to withhold make Sunghoon weaker. He feels uncontrollable, only becoming needier and hungrier with his movements, “I can’t stop. I can’t stop.” He whines, begging for you to vocalize how you feel it too.
You feel like you’re breaking underneath him, and it feels shameful. Like every harsh word your father ever spat at you was true now that you’re a part of the experience and not just the cause. Everything is too much. It takes every ounce of strength you have to turn both of your bodies over. Now sitting up on top of his lap, you can finally breathe again, sighing in relief. He whimpers at the distance between you both but also from the view of you.
He moans your name softly as he grips your hips, pushing himself up into your clothed pussy like he’s fucking you. Your hands push down on his shoulders. You stare into his eyes with a plain expression and contrasting sharp eyes, grinding your hips back down on top of him. It’s hard to ignore the way it makes you feel, watching him fall apart beneath you as his pulsing cock fucks against you, but you manage.
“Cum for me,” you demand quietly, “make a mess and imagine it’s inside me.”
“Holy fu—ngh,” his entire body spasms and shudders with a low groan falling from his open lips. His movements slow down only to become lazier and uncoordinated. You can feel the warm wetness he spills soak through your thin pajama shorts and underwear.
“You’re right. You are good for me,” you coo softly, cupping his face and using your thumbs to wipe away the tears. Your hips circle and swivel slowly on him until his quivering cock finishes cumming.
Sunghoon has a sparkle to his wet eyes. The way the gentle praise left your lips makes him melt, and he can’t stop the flickering glance between your eyes and lips. He breathes heavily through his post clarity. Still he basks in your touch with a hopeful look in his eyes. His tongue slides over his lips before he’s leaning up towards your face, hands affixed to your waist to pull you closer to him.
This makes a wave of panic wash over you, knowing what he wants to do. You shake your head no and pull yourself away, slipping off of his lap only to turn away from him.
“None of that. It’s not what-”
And then there’s a press of lips to your cheek. Your face burns as if a hot coal was what kissed your face. Your eyes go wide, turning to see the boy sitting up next to you. He only wears a shy smile as he sees your reaction.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a week now,” he admits with a small laugh. “Not exactly there but that’s fine. I wish you would let me help you feel good too.” he whispers, looking back to the windowsill where the gifted flowers stood in their vase with the raging storm as their backdrop.
“That’s dumb and I don’t need to,” you reply, still watching him stare forward. Your chest feels painful; it’s an ache like shattered glass trying to piece together in the wrong ways. Stabbing but trying.
“I think you deserve to,” he argues. “But I understand if it’s not what you want. I was really touchy and I shouldn’t have been because you don’t seem like it. I was too caught up in the moment.” His mind goes to the mess he’s still sitting in and he feels self-conscious all over again. “Is it embarrassing how much I need you?”
You blink at him, swallowing the words that were never going to come out because you didn’t even know what they should or would be. So you settle with a simple, “No.”
You think it would kill you to admit how much you actually always wished to be wanted, needed, or loved. A bigger part of you didn’t think you were worthy of it, let alone capable. The world had such a way of saying otherwise. Until it brought Sunghoon to you; the boy who showed you feelings and experiences you never thought possible.
As if he could read your mind, he asks, “Why did you choose me out of everyone?” He falls back onto the bed, laying down and pulling the blanket over himself.
“I think you reminded me of a lamb.”
“Pardon?” His brows furrow.
You lay back down next to him, facing him like he is to you. “Pretty, white, and docile. You were so nervous when I first saw you—sometimes you still are.” You even laugh a little. “When you shook my hand I knew I could do anything to you because you’d let me.”
“You think I’m pretty?” He smiles wide, scooting closer to you.
You scoff with an eye roll, leaning further away from him. “Oh shut up, you’ve seen a mirror.”
And then it’s his turn to laugh a little. He looks at you like you’re the reason the sun rises and falls. It kind of hurts you to see him like this because it reminds you of your initial rotten intentions and how they’re dissipating the more you’re with him.
Time passes faster than the two of you realize. There’s light banter and easy conversations. You learn more about Sunghoon. Where he goes to school, what he studies, and who his friends are. He tells you of the sports he used to do and what he does in free time with his best friend. The more you learn about him, the more you understand his naivety and how despite what you’ve done, he won’t change. There’s something lovely about it.
You don’t have much to share about your life the way he does, at least not in the same light. But you show him your favorite books, drawings you made over the years, and share the stories of movies you found interesting. He savors the moment of you simply confiding, enjoying the more he can know about you.
The storm passes later in the evening. So caught up in borrowing time, the rain has slowed down to a simple pitter patter. The clouds dispersed and the setting sun only came through to say goodbye to the day.
The sound of the truck that the farmhands use to take back to town is heard roaring to life, signalling you and Sunghoon that it’s safe and time to head out.
Sunghoon jumps out of bed but by the time he’s shoving himself into his still damp jeans and looking out the window, the truck is already speeding down the dirt, now mud riddled road.
“They just left without me,” he breathes out. “I’m used to them leaving me out, but t-this is.. How am I going to get home?” He looks back to you with sad eyes, not the light they had earlier. He’s not shocked by their actions, but he is disappointed. A hand runs through his hair in his stress.
“Should I kill them?” Your question is brazen, body and voice eerily still in your seriousness.
“W-what?!” he whispers in shock, freezing for a moment.
“I’m joking.” You sit up and watch Sunghoon resume getting dressed. “I think you should head back to the lodge for the night. There’s a washer and dryer for your clothes. And spare food for dinner too.”
Sunghoon nods slightly, “your jokes are weird, but okay.” He looks like he’s thinking of something, taking his bottom lip between his teeth in thought before speaking again. “Can you stay with me for the night at least?” he asks shyly.
“No,” comes out quicker than you intended. “...But I guess I can walk with you there.”
He nods again but now with his signature small dimpled smile. You almost forgot about being angry at the other farmhands for taking it away.
You have to make sure the coast is clear before leaving the house. You tiptoe down the halls and stairs, weary of where your mother is inside the house. To your luck, she’s in her usual state. She’s passed out on the couch with two empty bottles of wine on the floor. The television volume is low, playing a rerun of the reverend’s sermon; the devil himself of your childhood, preaching about how he lost his child to the otherside.
With a finger to your lips, you silently signal for Sunghoon to be quiet and to follow you out.
Once safely out of the front door, you take his hand in yours and start running for the lodge. The tall boy is behind you, so you don’t get to see the bright smile on his lips or in his eyes as you run through the light run towards the lodge.
Now standing in the front doorway of the farmer’s lodge, wet from the sky all over again and still hand in hand, Sunghoon bravely speaks up.
“I don’t like it when you disappear on me,” he breathes out shakily, honestly. “Nobody else sees me like you do,” he squeezes your hand tighter in his, feeling you begin to pull away. “Come with me into the city tomorrow. We can- I’m not sure yet, but I’m sure I want more time with you.”
His eye contact is unwavering, begging. Both of his strong hands hold onto yours. You glance from your hand then back to his pleading expression. He will always remain so sweet, no matter what you do to him.
“I felt less lonely before I met you,” you confess, eyes unblinking as you stare up at him for a long pause. “I’ll meet you here in the morning.”
In only seconds, he’s pulling you into a hug. His arms wrap around you so tightly as he holds you to his chest. You go stiff in his arms, forgetting how to breathe for a moment. What feels suffocating at first turns into a warmth you’ve become all too familiar with, and it was never anger. The indignation you always wear is just a hand me down from your parents; it doesn’t fit you right even though it’s comfortable.
With a shaky exhale, you wrap your arms around him too. The hug surrounds you like a blanket of unknown comfort. Your ear pressed to his chest listens to the sound of his racing heart. You can feel the pound throughout his entire body too. Every emotion held within is trying and fighting to be seen. It’s still so cold from the rain but he feels contrast, only warm. His lips press a kiss to the top of your head, making your body burn even more and your hold all the tighter.
True to your word, you meet Sunghoon at the farmer’s lodge the next morning. He seems happier than usual. Very giddy to be spending a weekend day with you without work in the way. No distractions or excuses to leave. Just the two of you and a new day with zero obligations.
Because you had a spare bike, you both are able to peddle towards town to the bus stop together. Having made these frequent trips alone, you’re familiar with the owner of the gas station at the stop. He’s a deaf older man, and it surprises Sunghoon that you know how to sign and ask him to hold onto the bikes until you’re back. You tell Sunghoon that you learned some basics from reading a book you bought a long time ago.
Stunned, Sunghoon realizes that you went out of your way to do so for one man who watches your bike while you endure solo trips. You, the odd girl who was mean and sinful, used your money and learned a language for one man who did a simple favor. He’s learning more to admire you for by the day, and it’s crazy to him how you don’t see your own charm.
Sunghoon pays your bus fares even though you insisted on being capable of doing so yourself. Sat in the middle of the bus that’s only barely half filled, he asks if there’s anything you’d like to do for the day while in the city. Nobody has ever asked you such an effortless thing, and you like it more than you imagined. Just uncomplicated curiosity of your wishes.
“The book store. The small yellow one on main street. Maybe see a movie if anything is worth seeing.” You shrug, spewing out the usual things you do. Looking around the taken bus seats, you notice some familiar faces.
“That sounds nice,” he smiles, “our first real date! I think there’s a cafe near that book store too. Do you like coffee?”
Your cheeks burn as you stare at him in bewilderment, “you think we’re going on a date?!”
“Of course we are,” he laughs like it’s obvious and wraps an arm around your shoulder, looking out of the window. All that the town can offer him other than you passes by. “I’m a fan of americanos. You seem like you’d take your coffee black.”
“I don’t even like coffee,” you mumble, turning your attention out of the window as well. “Tea is nice though.” You add in, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Hm. I can see that too,” he hums as he pulls you closer into his side.
So much can change in such little time. You’ve experienced this many times in one life. How one day can open a new door to a path otherwise not taken. Showing Sunghoon more of you has made him bloom into a larger ray of light. He seems more comfortable, and now you’ve become the awkward one.
The ride to the city doesn’t normally take this long, or at least you don’t think it does. Every second with him by your side makes the experience feel brand new. The theme of time being unreal is common with him, you’ve discovered. It’s when you’re in the bookstore and see a holiday sale that you realize it’s not even June anymore.
While Sunghoon looks for books for his upcoming college semester, you find yourself in genre sections you never really cared for before. The dark and racy ones were fun to bring home, sure. But innocent, cliche romance was always something cringey to you. Now if you change your perspective to that of research then it’s less daunting, right? Perhaps you’d make sense of all the things you’re discovering about yourself and him. Yeah, that’s convincing enough.
He teases you at the checkout counter when he sees what you picked out. Your face flushes in embarrassment and you can’t even bite back at him or defend your choices. So you smack him with the book on the way out while he laughs and makes jokes that aren’t very funny.
The two of you do manage to catch a movie. You honestly didn’t care to see one, but having to sit silently in a theater for at least an hour and half seemed like enough time for him to, hopefully, forget and drop the whole book situation. It’s a summer slasher film. A group of teens go camping and the plot is very ‘who done it’ style. Overall, it’s a fun choice. You have your turn to laugh and joke when Sunghoon gets jumpy or scared.
After the movie, you both end up at the cafe Sunghoon mentioned while on the bus. There was something painfully intimate about everything today. But especially sitting down to eat with him. Not even your mother could meet you at the table anymore.
“You seem softer today,” Sunghoon states, setting his half-drunk coffee down. “Almost nervous. Is it because we’re out together for our first date? Or just the people in general?”
You raise a brow at his brazen curiosity and observation. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” you play with your fork to move around the barely touched food in front of you. “Or maybe it’s a bit of both.”
“If you come to the city enough to know sign language for the man who watches your bike, do you like it better than the countryside?”
“Don’t know. I’m used to the quiet life, but leaving it behind and pretending it’s not there is nice too.”
“What keeps you there?”
“The scenery. The air. The lake. Being friends with the animals.” You look up from the plate to Sunghoon who is watching you like a lecture: attentive and learning. “I’m not very good with people, so I think it suits me alright.”
“You’re good with me though,” he argues softly.
“No, not really. I wish I was more like everyone else,” you inhale deeply as your eyes wander around the bustling cafe. There’s a choir of laughter, conversations, and social dynamics you would have to study to master. “If I were a good person, everything would be easier.”
“...but I like you as you are,” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear, watching you shift in your seat. He doesn’t think you’re not a good person, and it hurts that you see yourself as such.
As Sunghoon speaks, there’s a chime that follows as the front door of the cafe is swung open. A disheveled man stumbles inside, heavy feet stomping the tile floor to attempt to stabilize his disorientation. The man burps obnoxiously loud, and many eyes find him with the grand entrance.
He scratches at his lengthy, unkept beard as he looks around. When his sunken eyes find you sitting at the table nearby his eyes grow wide and his mouth falls open. His hand shakes with a pointed finger in your direction, “y-you! The girl from the reverend’s sermon!” He’s loud, capturing the attention of everyone now. His sloppy movements make way towards you and Sunghoon; you feel everything within you freeze, and your heart knocks at your chest fast and hard with anxiety.
He slams his hands on the table, causing your plates and drinks to rattle. He reeks badly of alcohol and his crazed eyes never leave yours. You swallow thickly, fight or flight mode still trying to understand the situation before you. Meanwhile Sunghoon, worried and confused, slowly begins to stand up and grab your bags.
But you, you’re frozen staring at the messy man who talks of your greatest hate. Your hands tremble on the table.
“I thought the reverend made you up for stories, but my God! You’re the real living thing just like the pictures; his only sin,” he laughs boisterously in your face and you try not to gag. “I saw him a little whiles earlier, ya know,” his voice goes quieter, it’s taunting even. You wish to remain calm but your eyes tremble and a frown takes your face. “I should go find him and tell him you’re here. He really-”
Sunghoon takes your hand, practically dragging you away from the table. You almost fall from your seat, like a baby deer just learning to walk, there’s little strength to your legs.
“It’s not too late! You can be on the right side of things!” his voice ricochets off the walls of the now quiet cafe. “If I can be saved by his preaching, so can you! Look at me!” His mad laughter follows you and Sunghoon outside.
Sunghoon watches you stand on uneasy feet, zoned out staring at the sidewalk. It didn’t take much to put the pieces together that the drunken man was talking about your father. Your father being a reverend who’s not in the picture gave him much to wonder about, but now isn’t the time. He just wanted to get you somewhere away from this memory.
He crouches down in front of you. You slowly blink back to reality, now looking down at his back. You don’t want to speak so you poke his shoulder in questioning.
“Hop on. Let’s go somewhere else.”
“What if I’m heavy?” you look at the bags he’s already holding, feeling that you too are a burdened weight he doesn’t need to hold.
“I’ve got good muscles, remember? Good for farm work,” he’s patient and calm with you while his eyes watch the man from outside the glass cafe windows. “Come on, baby.”
Without thinking, you end up on his back. He carries you on his back, strong arms holding your legs while yours are loosely around his neck. Your insides are a flared up hurricane but at least that allows your body to forget the empty ache you left at the cafe. With your chin hooked over his shoulder, you watch the many people and downtown stores that pass by.
Sunghoon doesn’t exactly know where he’s walking, but thinks it’s best to end the day here and return you to the bus stop. He’s never seen that look on your face before—the one you had when the man was loud in your face. He didn’t like it, and he’s sure you hated it. You looked intimidated, or afraid.
“Would you kill him for me?” you watch the side of his face, “the reverend, I mean.”
He stops in his tracks and turns his head to look back at you, “w-what? I can’t kill someone… and you should joke like that.” he panics, looking around to see if someone was listening to the wild conversation and request.
“Yeah, I know. I’m fucking with you,” you look away to hide your smirk, “and only half joking.”
“Did you believe him before?” He starts walking again, but this time at a slower pace knowing the bus stop isn’t too far now.
“Who? My dad or Our Father?” There’s a use of air quotes at the end of your question.
“Both?” his head tilts.
“Neither,” you confirm. There’s a pause for thought and Sunghoon waits for you to further explain. “My relationship with both is too similar. They’ve both known me my whole life, right? Seen all of my wrong doings and in return shown wrath through unnecessary punishments called forgiveness. In what good world is tolerance violent?”
“What do you mean? What did he do?”
“Sometimes, after my mother set the table for dinner, he would knock my plate to the floor. Tell me to eat off the ground like the animal I was or starve.” Sunghoon frowns at this, coming to a slow stop when he sees the bus shelter bench. “Sometimes I had days and nights locked in the barns, but he switched it up to the basement when I was too close with the animals.” You laugh a little, but he senses the pain behind it. “I watched him kill the animals, too, only to smother me in their blood. Beatings were rare, but I think only because he despised the thought of even touching me.”
Sunghoon slowly sets you down to the ground and breathes out your name safely, taking your hands into his. He looks at you with sorrow, like he was the one who endured it with you.
“God’s orders, am I right? My father, the church goers, speak of God like they’ve seen his face and heard his voice, but they haven’t. I would’ve by now too.”
If He was really in everything, all around, why did He always turn a blind eye? Why does He pretend to not know you? It only made it harder to believe in—something that would bring you here, torture you then watch you suffer for not living how it pleases. God wants to be believed in, but so do you. Only you would never beg for compassion.
Sunghoon squeezes your hands in his, “I don’t think you should stay there. You never deserved that… even if you’re volatile and strange… because you’re also kind and caring. It’s why I like you. It’s their fault for not seeing that,” he reassures. “I haven’t been through what you have, and I can’t understand. I-I mean I can try to, ya know… it’s not like I’d leave if I didn’t.” His words begin to stumble nervously, not confident in its sympathy reaching you where needed.
You laugh nervously, trying to tug your hands away from his grip that doesn’t let up. “Okay sure whatever, this is really embarrassing now…” You swallow hard and find difficulty in meeting his eyes.
That’s all that matters, what he said to you, but you didn’t have it in you to say it. He already knows it though, smiling small and holding your hands still. Without words or excessive displays he can still see it in your eyes, the subtle comfort of acceptance.
He could never blame you for your nature. He sees your anger as you just trying to be strong all while being sad. Whether you are his lover or executioner, he would accept you as you are every time with open arms, receiving hands. Even more readily, now.
Even more time has passed since knowing Sunghoon. Summer has never flown by so fast. The calendar doesn’t exist to you anymore. It’s only the days you see him and the days that you don’t. The season will be wrapping up in the next few weeks, but only for him. He has to return to his regular scheduled routine of pursuing education while you will stay here, on the farm. It’s rare for you to feel this emotion: fear. You are scared of losing him. And the concept is something you do your best to avoid thinking about because it makes your skin itch with anxiety. It crawls over you like something that needs to be cut out.
And then an idea hits you. Something far more deep-seated than everything else you’ve done with Sunghoon that would solidify that this summer is real and yours. Something that will always stay; a reminder that good things are possible despite how the world has made you.
It’s a damn near perfect day. The sun is so bright, and only peers down onto you both through the gaps of the trees. It’s just warm enough. Just quiet enough aside from the sound of Sunghoon’s gentle breathing and natural composition of the nature that surrounds. Rustling of leaves, chirps of birds, and scurrying of whatever life that wishes to not be seen.
You both sit criss cross at the wooden dock by the lake, simply enjoying the scenery and all it has to offer. His large knee is affixed to yours. If this was early June, you would have moved away. But now it’s a week into August and you wouldn’t have it anywhere else. Just like you always imagined, and secretly wanted, the view is nicer with someone else.
He didn’t bother asking why you never brought him here before, or why it is that you chose to now. He’s just happy that you decided to at all.
You slip a hand into your boot and pull out a pocket knife. You flick it open and do a brief inspection of the cleaned blade. The sun glints off the metal as you turn it.
“Sunghoon, do you trust me?”
His eyes flicker from your blank face to the blade. He nods slowly with a swallow, “of course.” There’s a subtle apprehension to him. You hand him the small blade and leave your palm facing up, open to him.
“Cut a diagonal line down my hand,” you point and draw a line down the middle of your palm.
“Huh, seriously?” he takes the blade confused and concerned with what you’re asking of him. “Why? I can’t hurt you.”
“Do it. Don’t think of it as hurting me, but still do it deep enough to leave a scar.”
He struggles to understand the situation, but you’re so serious and clearly waiting for him to do as you asked. He exhales deeply, taking your hand in his while the other holds the knife just above the bared skin. Hesitant and slow, the tip of the knife pressed down into your flesh. You wince a little, which makes him pause. You nod, encouraging him to continue and he does despite hating the act. He slices the palm of your hand open just as you wanted. You hate blood, but it’s not so bad when caused by him.
“Shit, it stings,” you swallow through the pain. The feel of open flesh burning and stinging. “Your turn,” you exhale while taking the knife back with your free, unharmed hand.
“My turn,” he agrees as if all logic has left him and readily displays his palm to you. Deep down, he feels guilty for hurting you, so to make it even he wants to feel the same.
Just as hesitant and careful, you create a matching wound in his hand. A deep enough, bleeding, lesion in his left hand to match your right one. He cringes at the sight and the pain before looking back to your face. Your expression is so soft yet attentive, almost awestruck.
“Even when you hurt me you’re gentle,” he remarks, watching you in amazement with a meek smile.
“I am not gentle. I have sullied you,” you remind him, your eyes attempt to glare but they’re too bright in his.
“In the softest way, why?” His voice is delicate and still like the lake that sits before you. You blink slowly at him because there are no words to be found. He continues, “I never thought of you as a bad person,” he pauses as you drop the red stained knife, unsure if he should continue at first but does regardless. “And, uhm, I’ve thought a lot about this summer. What I've learned from you. Purity is constructive—like something made to bring shame.” You don’t move, watching him. “I don’t have to be clean to be good…and your hands never made me dirty. Because they never were either.”
Like an excavator to your tall, strong built walls Sunghoon has knocked your shield down. The facade of your character is breaking down, crumbling into the broken pieces that made it. A single tear escapes your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s rare for you to cry and you’re disgusted with the reality as to why it’s now that you break. Simply falling apart from kind words.
You try to use everything in you to ignore the heat in your body, to show the anger you think you’re feeling inside. So your eyes remain sharp and strong, boring into his, as they still water. You swallow the dry lump in your throat and without a word, you take his hand into yours to join in a mix of blood.
At first, you had one goal; one similar to murder. The sparkle he had in his eyes, you wanted to eat—to make them empty—and see the world ugly and godless like you. Yet somehow, somewhere along the way, his eyes shone even brighter. You only wanted to take and take of the innocent boy, but in this moment you realize, maybe I just wanted to give him some of me.
You wipe the wet drop away from your face with haste, pretending as if it was never there. Whatever blood oath you’re making with Sunghoon allows you to feel something indescribable. You don’t know if it’s deserved, but you smile anyways. Because the indescribable feeling feels like it’s an unknown, unspoken promise.
He’s seen you smile before with insidious malice, but this time, for the first time, you are really smiling. It’s a raw expression of surfacing emotions, and he returns the emotion like the sun. He thought of you beautiful before but with your brightness finally peering through your clouds, he believes you to be heaven sent. A part of him always wanted to see you cry—usually it was him with tears in his eyes; which is funny, because he wasn’t much of a cryer himself. You just had that way of breaking him down. He knows now he does for you too. And he can tell that you’re probably the type of person who needs to cry the most.
His hand squeezes yours tighter, a grip so loving, as you bind in one. Neither of your eyes or smiles leave each other until the bleeding stops.
A week later, Sunghoon asks you on a date. The summer fair is in town. It’s something like a festival where all the locals from towns around the city come to visit and join in on festivities from carnival games, rides, food, and uncommon entertainments. You think of being mean, denying him the acceptance of the date, but you have always wanted to go. So you said yes without your words: took his scarred hand in yours and nodded.
The evening sky is a watercolor of warm tones as the sun begins to lay down for the night. The bright lights of the fair illuminate the large open field turned carnival. There’s a sea of people here tonight, and although it makes you nervous inside, having Sunghoon by your side makes the ordeal easier to handle.
The line for the ticket booth is lengthy but it passes by. You approach the booth, standing a little behind Sunghoon who takes out his wallet to buy your entrance wristband passes and tickets. You look around at the many people: families, friends, and couples, all immersed in their own experience as the music and sounds blend in the background of conversations.
“Oh wow! You’re really handsome,” the girl at the ticket booth gawks at Sunghoon. She straightens her posture and fixes her hair from her face, “one ticke-?”
Catching this, you step forward and snatch Sunghoon’s wallet from his hands, “he already knows that. Do your job or I’ll feed you to pigs.” You slap the cash amount for what you need down onto the table top with a straight face and mean eyes.
Her eyes go wide and she hushes an apology, quickly giving you both wristbands and tickets for the evening. She even threw in extra tickets as you stared her down.
Sunghoon watches you with a flushed face, even the tips of his ears burn red at your jealous threat. You both walk off into the fair, a sheepish smile on his face as he leads you through the crowd with an arm wrapped around your back and hand to your waist.
“Was that one of your jokes too?” he grins down at you.
“Nope,” you glance at him with a small smile. You weren’t sure what came over you in the moment, but it was something internally deep, and territorial. An innate reaction to someone trying to appeal to something that belongs to you. It felt ugly and you didn’t like it.
The idea that he could possibly be taken from you was a phenomenon you’ve thought of for a while now. Knowing he has an existing life outside you, outside of this summer, that he would return you made you sick. You’re far from perfect, or the right thing for him, and he could find a safer option if he ever pleased. Pushing the thoughts away is harder than you imagine, so you cling to his side even more.
You and Sunghoon use up your spare tickets for carnival games. You toss rings around bottles, shoot water guns into the mouth of a clown frame, and throw darts at balloons. The both of you aren’t very skilled at any of the games, but it's fun enough to enjoy the time without winning a prize to show for it.
Eventually, Sunghoon does find frustration within the ‘rigged’ set up of the games. He even pulls out his wallet for cash when the tickets are gone. You’re surprised at how competitive he is; his determined nature is something that stirs your insides around. You don’t know if you’ve ever smiled so much in your life.
After 3 rounds of throwing a ball to knock over a moving target, he does manage to win. Going 3 for 3 and not missing a single shot. The excitement you feel when he succeeds takes over and you’re proud, doing little jumps in place and clapping your hands together.
“You did it! You won!” you exclaim, hugging onto his side.
He can only smile down at your joyfulness. A fire burns in his heart and he hugs you back, kissing your forehead. “All for you. Which prize do you want?”
“It’s yours, you should pick it,” you blush, elbowing his side with a shy smile while your eyes keep looking up to the stuffed white lamb with a lace ribbon around its neck and a cushion gold bell adoring the throat.
Of course, that’s the prize he ends up choosing. It might not be Saint Michael the stuffed bear, but it’s something far happier, cleaner, and softer.
The stuffed animal never leaves your hold throughout the rest of the evening. It rides the many rides you and Sunghoon do. And sits at the picnic table with you both as you share fair snacks. Popcorn and cotton candy was never so sweet for either of you. Like contentment melting on your tongues.
Cliche as ever, Sunghoon wants to end the night there with a round on the ferris wheel. The line moves quickly and when it’s your turn to step into the carriage, he takes your hand and sits you down the seat next to him.
It moves slowly and rocks back and forth with shaky movements that have you gripping the side handles. With an arm around your shoulder, he holds you close to him. The array of flickering colorful lights and people below you feels almost magical.
Taking your eyes from the heightened difference between you and the ground, you look back to the boy beside you who is already looking at you. The reflection of rainbow luminescence glistens in his eyes. It’s even prettier than the view from the top of the little world you’re in. You give him a shy smile, finding it impossible to look away.
He says your name in a whisper, taking your chin between your fingers. “Thank you for choosing to let me in.”
Confused and wide eyed, you watch him lean into your face. You gasp when his lips meet yours before returning the notion. With eyes closed, you melt into his kiss. It’s sweet as all the things you’ve experienced today because of him.
It’s also as clumsy and messy as a kiss can be for two people who’ve never done so before. However, human nature and desire take over and ease the rest for you both. Lips move over another in a gentle waltz, careful and slow.
And as if the situation couldn’t get anymore cliche, fireworks light up the sky. At first you thought it was just your imagination and all the books you’ve read flooding your consciousness, but the booming sounds and cheers of the crowd are too loud to not be real.
You pull away from him first, and he’s already wearing a shit eating grin so wide that you can’t help but roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile back at him. Your face burns in both embarrassment and adrenaline from the kiss.
After that, you don’t leave the city like you should. The bus takes you both back downtown but neither you or Sunghoon feel it’s time for goodbye. So, for the first time, he takes you back to his apartment. You’ve never been to anybody else's home before, and it’s nerve wracking to say the least. The complex is large and somewhat modern, housing many of the second and third year private college students.
When you step inside, it’s quite plain but at least clean. You’re immediately greeted by a boy shorter than Sunghoon. He has a big mouth smile and shining dark eyes. His hair is shaggy but it suits him. He’s practically bouncing on his toes. You shift yourself behind Sunghoon and hold onto his shirt, hiding slightly from the excited puppy-like roommate.
“How did it go? Oh, and nice to finally meet you,” he rambles out quickly, “I’m Jake. The best friend and roommate. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He shoots Sunghoon a wink before grinning back at you. He extends a hand for you to shake but you don’t reach out. Something about his eyes doesn’t sit right with you.
“She’s shy,” Sunghoon laughs a little as he guides you past Jake and towards his room. “It was fun though. I recommend going before it’s gone.”
“Ah, you got yourself a nice little angel, huh?” Jake leans over the kitchen island, watching you both. His smile falters. “I’ll have one of my own some day.” For some reason, you think of him as a secret pervert.
Sunghoon laughs his comment off and tells Jake goodnight before showing you to his room. His room is neat and as simple as a college boy’s room can be. A bed, desk, dresser, closet, and bathroom. One poster of a musician you’ve never listened to and a window with unopened blinds.
You sit yourself at the end of his bed and he sits down next to you. There’s some awkward silence as you look around, unsure of what you’re supposed to do. He feels similarly to your internal dilemma.
“I-I’ve never had-”
“It’s okay,” you cut him off. Of course he’s never had a girl over. And of course you’ve never been over to a boys house.
“Are you tired?” he asks, and you lie by nodding your head. So you both get ready for bed. He gives you a shirt to borrow for bed that change into in his bathroom while he changes into sweats and a t-shirt in his room.
In minutes you’re both laying in his bed under the covers and staring up at his ceiling in the dark room. Not a word is said as you both lay there wide awake and untouching. But you know he’s wanting to by the way his body is shifting and turning, inching closer with every minute movement.
And before you know it, although expected, his body is nestled closely to yours. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into an embrace. For the most part, he usually does keep his space. Knowing how you are when it comes to physical touch that feels too sudden or invading. But with barriers breaking down more over time, he thinks you’re learning to handle the comfort better.
“I thought you were tired?” he mumbles, head on your shoulder. His hands trace up and down your arms that are wrapped around yourself like a guard.
“I lied,” you whisper. Your eyes can’t look at him yet, so they remain aimless to the ceiling. Some moonlight slips through his cracked window blinds, giving you enough view of the spinning ceiling fan.
“I had fun today. Mostly because you did. I like seeing you happy,” he smiles after kissing your shoulder that’s exposed in the neckline of his shirt too big for you. “And… I liked when you kissed me back,” his voice is quiet and shy-like.
“Do you want to do it again?” Your eyes shift to him and you can barely see the warm flush to his cheeks. He’s cute.
Taken aback at first, he just blinks at you with a parted mouth. Then he nods his head slowly, licking over his lips.
You turn over onto your side to face him and his hands don’t leave your waist. Unsure of what to do with your own, you wrap them around his neck. Good thing they sit behind him and it’s dark in the room because it would kill you for him to notice the slight tremor in your fingers.
With a scarily racing heart and stiff, trembling body you surge forward to kiss him. His lips are quick to capture yours. Soft and pillow-like, they mold into yours in waves. What starts off as clumsy and unskilled turns into hunger. Something desperate and needy. His grip feels bruising to your hips but in a nice way. In a way you want it to hurt more.
His nails digging further into your flesh to keep you impossibly close make your lips gasp, or maybe it’s the lack of air, or just both. And instinctively his tongue is licking its way past your lips and into your mouth. He kisses you like he’s starved for it. His wet tongue drags over yours, and your teeth, then as far as it can inside of you. He whimpers, pressing his already hard cock to you as he licks and kisses you open.
Your stomach has never burned this way before, and you feel the hot sensation all over then down to your core that aches like it’s hungry too. You feel disgusted by yourself but can’t fight the hum you make as you devour him right back. You’re getting wetter every second he’s in your mouth.
This time, he pulls away first. Panting for air and staring at you with glazed over dark eyes. He licks over his wet lips again, savoring the taste of you on himself. He bites down onto it and a part of you wishes it was you he sunk his teeth in.
“Can I do what I did last time?” he breathes out, his hips involuntarily jerking up against you at the thought alone.
While trying to act like you’re not catching your breath too, you say quietly, “do whatever you want.”
He kisses you again but with more desperation. You try to do the same but you can feel your heart and your head preparing for battle. The way he’s feeling you up and grinding himself on you is in no way unwanted, and that’s part of the reason you’re struggling to maintain presence.
It’s so much happening so quickly, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t imagine this happening eventually. Sex was inevitable. The way his body yearns to be one with yours makes you feel special almost. He’s already engraved into you but in his mind he has to be inside of you and it hurts so badly how you think the same.
But is the last thing that keeps him pure really yours to take? You’ve stripped so much away from him for all the wrong reasons before and now it feels strange. You are no good and that’s all he is.
The only thing keeping you here, in the moment, is him. His exploratory and gentle yet rough hands, his body grinding into you, his lips that can’t leave yours or your skin for even a second, and the weak wanting sounds that leave them.
“I need more, please. I want- I need to feel good with you. Please,” he’s whining into your ear. Then pressing kisses along your jaw and neck that are all so tender, slow, and deliberate. Large hands caress you like you’re breakable, as if not already just a body of fragmented pieces made whole and called a person.
Your still shaking hand reaches down between your two bodies and slips past his sweats. He had the nerve to go commando and you wish you could tease him, but you can’t. You’re lucky you’re even here right now and breathing his air. Your hand wraps around his aching length and gives him a few tugs to which he’s quick to moan. He kicks off his sweatpants while you bring him closer to you. The plush of your thighs trap him; he whimpers against the soft heat of your flesh.
Your hips grind up into him once, showing him what he should do too. He’s slow to start, rocking himself between your thighs. Slutty and hopeless sounds leave him in a string of his want. His leaking hard cock is so close to your core. Only the thin layer of your underwear keeps him from feeling your clear need for him too.
Wrapped in each other's arms, you bury your head to his shoulder. You can feel the pulse of his aching desire rubbing and grinding against you. It makes you shiver in sensitivity and cower further into his neck. You don’t bite down onto your lip, but his neck. There’s a sting to your eyes because you hate it—the wet warmth that pools out of you. Your sin sticks to your underwear and your skin like the red raining life of all the animals you made leave the earth; your haunting subconscious correlates with your growing pleasure.
You know you’re not religious yet every time Sunghoon touches you there’s a divinity to it and it makes your hands want to join in prayer to thank the universe for sending someone like him to you. Because his hands roam your body as if they have in every world; as if there is not one timeline where you have not been made for him. Like you were carved from his rib every time.
Your body smolders in that angry way it always did whenever Sunghoon got too close to you. Whenever his words were too kind, his touch too gentle, or god forbid when he just smiled at you. That fire is just the divine nature of your relationship, lighting up everywhere he touches and leaving flames in the wake. You thought it was your body rejecting his purity, but you were only denying the likeness. He made you feel good. And in the most ironic way possible. You just didn’t think you deserved it.
Yet an anguished moan leaves you, rumbling against his skin as you bite down harder. Regardless of it all, he is yours right now.
The feeling of your sinking teeth in him, the sounds you’re now making, and the damp heat between your legs he can’t stop chasing all makes his head spin. He bites down onto you just the same and it only makes you moan louder.
“Please,” he’s whining again through the bite. His voice a needy tremble while his hips stutter and thrust between your legs that only squeeze tighter together. The way the fat of your legs hug his raging cock through his desperate grinds makes him chase more and more for that feeling he just can’t seem to reach. The crying tip kisses and pushes up then past your leaking folds every time. It drives you both insane.
If your body is the fiery lake of creation's deepest pit, then he is the cleanest ocean of earth’s highest point. If anyone could extinguish you, and possibly make you feel whole, it was Sunghoon.
This is the most horrifying reality you’ve come face to face with. Not just intimacy, but a stronger driving emotion. You have to open yourself, rip open your chest and bare your beating heart in all its naked vulnerability. Let it scream out I like being with you. You have allowed this person into your world that nobody else has dared to step foot in. To see you in such ugly ways yet still extend their arms for you. It’s a terrifying level of closeness that you’ve never once experienced and you don’t know what to do with. You’re beyond perplexed by what he’s done to you, in both terror and awe.
You pull back from Sunghoon and he pauses everything for a moment to look at you, noticing your wet eyes. Before he can ask what’s wrong you reach down and slip off your underwear. You shift your body and maneuver him as best you can until he’s on top of you. Rattled with concealed embarrassment you remove his shirt and toss it somewhere to the floor, and he does the same.
You take a deep breath and reach back down to his cock, lining it up with your pussy. You blink and swallow away all the things trying to stop you from allowing yourself him. Pliant beneath him, you grab his shoulders and pull him down to you for a quick kiss. Foreheads now pressed together with lips ghosting over the others, you tell him, “I hate you.”
Sunghoon only smiles down at you before kissing you once more. With his arms caged around you, he slowly pushes himself forward. The fat tip of his cock fails to go through you, only sliding up and past the wet folds. He whines feeling the warm slick coat the head; his entire body shudders. He nearly cums from that alone.
He looks at you confused, and nod once while trying to shift your hips around for a better angle. It’s not like you to be so quiet during things like this. It only tells him that for once, you’re nervous about new things the way he was.
So he tries again, this time a little rougher. He thrusts his hips forward, the tip pushing past the tight walls but still barely in. You whimper at the intrusion and the feeling of you being stretched open. Your hands squeeze hold onto his biceps for purchase.
The tight sensation of your pussy squeezing his tip feels otherworldly to him. He can’t help but need to sink deeper into you. His cock pushes in further at an agonizing pace until he’s as deep as he can possibly go. His arms shake while he tries to maintain his strength and keep himself from collapsing onto you completely. The wet walls that surround him flutter and try to pull him further inside, making him feel lightheaded. His moans are so needy it’s almost like he’s crying from the feeling.
“Oh, f-fuck!” you whimper. Having Sunghoon completely inside of you feels so full. You’re stuffed with him and it hurts so good. “You gotta move, Hoon. Feels like you’re splitting me open.”
“You're so tight, mm.” His hips stutter from your words alone and he whimpers again. He pulls himself out halfway while your gummy walls kiss around him in an attempt to suck him back to be filled again. He begins to rock himself in and out of you. It’s inexperienced and awkward, but he gets the hang of it quickly. Doing what feels best for him and what seems to be the best for you too.
“I hate you. I fucking hate you,” you whisper harshly, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. It all burns while feeling like heaven. Never have you been so full, held so gently, or seen than this summer. You bite back the breaking moans and whimpers. You claw at his skin. You even begin to cry when your hips can’t stop chasing his thrusts.
“I love you too,” he whispers back. A kiss is pressed to your forehead as his cock pistons you. Sunghoon is smart enough to know you’re a liar. Your mean words that used to hurt him, he now understands. You’re not really a bad person. And you don’t hate him. You were just really damaged and if he’s damned for trying to heal that then he’s fine with that too.
“I mean it,” your body shudders, feeling his tip pound so far and deep in places inside you that you didn’t know reachable. His fat cock drags out and forces through your tight hole, making you cream all over him more and more. The sounds that leave your body, the sounds your bodies are making, it’s so obscene. Fighting off the disgust and focusing on how he makes you feel is war. It’s so hard for you to win.
“No you don’t,” he shifts himself to sit on his knees, taking your legs and wrapping them around his waist. He leans forward and kisses both of your cheeks before fucking himself into you again, only harder and faster than before.
“Ngh,” you moan again through broken sobs, blinking away the tears as you stare up at him. “I’m t-trying to.”
“I know, baby.” he mumbles before capturing your wobbling lips into a searing kiss. “It’s okay, haah, don’t cry. You’re good. You’re so good for me,” he says against your wet lips. You can only sniffle and try to turn your head away from him in your embarrassment. “No, no.” he takes your chin with his thumb and finger, forcing you to look back at him. His thrusts never letting up during his care. “Look at me. You’re so good to me.” He reminds you over and over. “We’re so good together. I’m yours. you’re mine.”
“Say it again,” you sniffle through little sounds of sin. Your hand finds a place on his cheek, and your thumb rubs over his lips that wear a smile.
“You’re so good, good for me. We are so good together. I am yours. And you are mine,” he says softly. His eyes are so filled with love, and if you could see your reflection in his then you would know yours are too. “Say you’re good, baby, it’s okay.”
“I’m good,” you sob through your whimpers, “I’m yours.”
To Sunghoon, the idea of sex was always sacred. Something that’s only done and shared between lovers bound by marriage of the church. But now, he thinks differently. He knows that there is no shame in him loving you now or years later. And he was more than happy to make love to you all night until you believed it too.
Perhaps there was a thing such as divine intervention and if God’s timing was alway right, he knew how to be evil with it too. Because the next day, when Sunghoon takes you home, he’s met with your maker.
Your mother, aware of the frequent trips you’ve been making and how close you’ve grown to the summer farmhand boy, is quick to make a call to your father the night you don’t return home. It wasn’t necessarily because she cared for your well being. You’re more than capable of handling yourself. But it was an excuse to try and get him to come back. Only it doesn’t go how she wanted.
When you see the reverend’s car parked in front of your house, your heart drops. Sunghoon picks up on your tension, He sees how you go blank at the sight and slowly turn back into the empty girl he met months ago. He tries to hold your hand but your fingers can’t move, can’t return the embrace.
When the reverend walks out of the house with his infamous weapon of sacrificial forgiveness, you know what to do. Your body moves on its own, leaving Sunghoon to reach out for you that walks towards the woods. He goes to follow you and the desolate man that stalks behind, but your mother stops him. She’s hysterical as she drags him towards your house saying, “it’s going to be okay.” But she’s crying.
Once out of their sight, the reverend takes you by the hair. He yanks your head around, pulling you towards that cursed tree. He’s uncharacteristically rough and your scalp screams for a release but you don’t show it. You don’t even look at the man. Not even when he’s tossing your body to the ground.
“So you’re whoring around with my employees now, huh? Was ruining this farm not enough for you?” His words mean nothing to you. You dust off the dirt and go to stand again, but he kicks you back down. You tsk under your breath as he speaks again, “I’ve seen all the things you’ve done. Seen you leave my barns with red hands and smile. Cut heads off chickens like an anatomy project. Is he next? That church boy?”
Now you look up to glare at him. Seeing the reverend was aggravating enough, but to say something about Sunghoon was infuriating to you. “I am not a killer. You are! And those animals were already dead.” You spit at his black leather church shoes.
“Oh, you disgusting little devient,” he laughs lowly, untying the rope from the tree. “Your cruelty shouldn’t bring you joy. Sick and twisted, I should’ve dealt with you sooner regardless of what your drunk bitch mother protested. I can save the boy when you’re gone.”
“What?” you shuffle backwards from him, angry and confused as he stalks closer to you until you’re backed against the tree. “All those things I did was because of you. Your righteousness made me rotten!” Your hands shake, gripping at the dirt ground for anything to make the fear stop. You glance up to the empty tree branch then the rope in his hands. Where is the lamb? You think briefly before it hits you. “You’re crazy,” you whisper, “I will not be your martyr… not now what I’m finally-”
“Condemn me to Hell for all I care,” he crouches down in front of you, “This is the last time I’ll be a killer.” He throws the rope to your lap and tells you to tether yourself.
“Why do you hate me?” The words scratch at your throat. When you were younger, you did want the reverend to hate you. It was when he noticed you most, and it’s all you really knew. But now you’re older, and his disdain never made sense.
You can’t bring yourself to move even if you wanted to. Was this His plan? To allow you one good thing in life before ending it? Was ruining Sunghoon your final sin?
The rope shakes with your fingers as you stare down at it. The twine of the rope burns over the palm of your hand where Sunghoon carved his promise. Your throat feels dry, tight and suffocating; choking on everything you’ve ever done. And your eyes still puffy from the night before well with tears all over again.
“I just do,” he thinks of slicing your neck open right there. So fuck tying you down, you were always secretly another lamb anyways. He raises his knife and the metal sits cold under your chin as he lifts your head up to look back at him.
“Okay…” you swallow.
Your eyes squeeze shut and so does your mouth, as you raise your head to the sky with an exposed throat. Why isn’t this easy? Unlike the animals, you do know what’s coming. And it’s scary. Scary not because of death, but because you aren’t ready. You haven’t told Sunghoon goodbye or that you love him back. And the thought of him finding something in this world to hate, is such an ugly feeling to die with.
And then there’s a loud noise. A booming bang, followed by unsteady feet falling back and the ground rumbling with a thud.
You open your eyes and your father is on his back clutching his abdomen. He coughs and gasps before raising his hand. It’s dripping in deep red. And you can’t help but smile with tears in your eyes as you exhale a jagged breath.
You turn your head and Sunghoon stands there with the shotgun in hand, open mouthed and wide eyed.
“Sunghoon!” you scramble to your feet and run over to him, taking the gun from his hands as he’s frozen in shock.
“H-he was going to- he was about to hurt you. I had to-!” he stutters, his eyes already crying and hands shaking, still feeling the weight and recoil of the gun.
“It’s okay,” you coo softly. “Just- go back to the house and I’ll be right there, okay?” You rush out. Still in shock and dazed, he blindly trusts you and does as you say.
When he’s no longer close by, you walk over to the reverend with a blank face. You stare down at him as he tries to crawl away, dirty and bleeding. The smile you make doesn’t reach your eyes.
You point the gun back down at him, and place your foot over the shot wound Sunghoon created. The man gasps and tries to swat at your leg but you only press the gun further into his face, making him surrender.
“Divine intervention, huh? Say it with me now. I know no punishment, only mercy.” Your voice is quiet, calm, and mocking of his tone. With the barrel to his forehead, you watch him writhe in pain and cough up a little blood.
“Go to Hell,” he spits his words like venom.
“If you say it, I’ll let you live. But if you show your face to me or Sunghoon again, I’ll shoot you right between the eyes.” Your foot presses down harder. You can feel that angry little girl inside of you jumping with joy.. Knowing his God demands to be bled for, and making him know the sacrificial suffering, well it feels good to say the least. “Say it. With me. Now.” Each word pronounced with the growing applied pressure to his shot wound. And then he begs for forgiveness. He’s never seen you smile the way you did when he was below you with those words. Empty eyes were never so alive for him either. He cries and chants ‘I know no punishment, only mercy’ over and over. It was like the most beautiful hymn.
There wasn’t much to be said about that day. Sunghoon and you just pretend you shared a nightmare. Neither of you talked about it. It was just another thing that tied you together.
Sitting there in the peak of summer’s heat. A day before Sunghoon returns to college classes. Birds chirp. The leaves of the tall trees thistle in the light breezes that pass by. Sunghoon sits criss crossed and while you have your feet hanging off the edge of the dock, kicking in the water.
“I’m sorry,” you break the silence. Shocked, he looks over to you. He never would have expected you to apologize for anything. “I was selfish when I approached you. I wanted to take all that goodness out of you and keep it for myself. I thought I wanted to hurt you, but after sharing all this time with you, I realized I was wrong. It’s weird to say it out loud,” you laugh small, awkward, “but I really am sorry. I love you more than even I know.” You stare down to your feet in the water that has gone still. A tear falls from your eye, and down to your cheek.
“I know. I love you too,” he wraps an arm around your waist. “But now the same sins bind us.” You hiccup silently and turn to look up at him. “Harvest all of my purity, farmer’s daughter.”
For the first time, you really laugh. It’s bright and loud like the big smile he’s seeing for the first time on his favorite face. It’s morning sunlight that whispers through trees to kiss the forest floor. Birds that sing songs of hope to awake life into a new day. Nostalgic, expansive days of childhood where the concept of time doesn’t exist. To him, you look like the epitome of summer; he doesn’t want this season to end.
You were never the lamb. Or the wolf. Not an animal at all. Nothing like the ones you grew up with. You were just a girl, scared and alone. But not anymore. Because it’s your last day on this farm, and tomorrow is the first with only Sunghoon.
“Your humor is poetry.” you continue to laugh until tears prick your eyes all over again. You love it.
“It wasn’t supposed to be funny.” he looks away shyly, blushing. It only makes your giggle more, but you stop to press a kiss to his cheek. He blushes harder.
“I’ll keep doing it, harvesting all of your purity, for as long as you’re good.” you say with a smile.
“Do you promise? I am always good, especially with you, so it could be a long while.” He bumps your shoulder playfully with a laugh.
You take his scarred hand in yours and you laugh like he did, pure and true, “I do.”
© fangel ┊ do not copy, repost, modify or translate my content ໒꒱ tysm for reading, ⌗unlearn shame ⌇ taglist @tinycatharsis @simjaexy @leehsngs @511rkive @beomluvrr @jjongsaengzz @slvtella @jaerisdiction @kkamismom12 @rayofsunshineeee @nshmrarki @m3wkledreamy @hanjisbeloved @filmnings @stercul1a @hooniesfvngs @moriwori @sleepyhoon
#﹙ 🧾 ﹚— feedback 𐙚‧₊˚♡#tinycatharsis#you ALWAYS get it !!!#i’m so happy you’re able and here to read my stories#i send you so much love
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♡₊˚⊹♡ valentines fun
✩ blurb !
IN WHICH— fratboy! chris spends the first half of valentine's day with tomboy! reader and her students
| no warnings :)
"cmon, we got like an hour left!!"
infamous dealer christopher sturniolo was the last person anyone expected to show up in your classroom during valentines day. but when you texted him "sos!! teacher is sick, need help decorating the classroom!!!" he showed up—5 target bags in hand, smelling only faintly of weed, and wearing a somewhat decent outfit
“alright , im here. whats the game plan?” chris asks, leaning against one of the tiny tables with a lopsided grin. "okay so," you clap your hands together, "class starts at 9:15, we need to get everything up and going before they come in" you say, grabbing a target bag
"hey how much was all of this? i'll cash app you" "dont worry about it ma, 's nothing" you sigh, not wanting to put up a fight
you smile as you take the supplies out— brown paper bags, a variety of craft supplies, bags of candy, rice krispy treats, a box of gummy snack, valentine themed mnm's, plastic cups littered with little hearts, pink lemonade, a red tablecloth, pink and red heart shaped bowls, apple juice boxes, kool-aid jammers, a box of the small chip bags, the whole deal. he really went all out
"m'kay, imma run down to the printer to print out their name on a heart they can cut out" "isnt that a bit dangerous?" "well yes, but these are 5 year olds sweetie, they have to practice their cutting skills" the boy blushes slightly at the pet name, murmuring, "right" while opening a pack of lollipops and dumping them inside a bowl
"i'll be back. make it cute chris" the boy chuckles as he see's you skip out the classroom, taking your lanyard off and swinging it side to side
10 minutes later, you make your way back to your classroom. as you enter the room, you see chris writing "happy valentine's day" on the whiteboard in big, red, slightly sloppy, letters
you smile, noticing the rest of the room. he had set the tablecloth on the small group table, 5 bowls of candy neatly placed on top, juice boxes and pouches lined up next to the lined up chip bags. the plastic cups stood in 2 stacks, the pink lemonade next to it
you let a giggle escape your body, making the boy frown. "does it not look good? cause personally i think i fucking ate with it, 10 out of 10, finger licking good" "it's very cutesy chris, i love it" he nods, finishing the last word and setting the expo marker down
chris was no stranger to your classroom. over the past few months, he’d helped you out here and there—whether it was because he owed you a favor or because he secretly didn’t hate spending time with you, you weren’t entirely sure. regardless, the kids hadn't actually met him, he was always there after school hours, helping you decorate the room or something
“okay, hear me out,” he says, your eyebrow cocking up, “what if i run to walmart real quick and get mini cupcackes" "you dont think this is enough?" “relaxxx, it’s for the aesthetic,” he says, grinning as he takes his care keys out. "you wont make it back in time" "psh, says who? i'lll be back ina few"
you shake your head, smiling as he walks out. "drive safe!" you yell out, focusing your attention back on the class
you go behind the teachers desk, grabbing a heart banner, getting on top of a chair and hanging it across the door frame. you continue to decorate the room, the clock hitting 9am sooner than you thought
suddenly the door swings open, chris hurriedly entering. "told you i'd make it back in time!" the boy sets the sweets down, a knock on the door being heard. "oh hey girl" you let out, watching as Mrs. Taylor— the teacher next door, walks in. she was a couple years older than you, causing the both of you to get along extremely well. "hey n/n, do you have, woah! who is this"
chris gives the woman a small smile, "chris," he says, extending a hand out. "so you're the infamous chris, its nice to meet you sweetie" he nods, watching as the 2 of you interact. "anyways, you have an extra stapler? i swear i had one but now i cant find it?" you laugh, shaking your head, "cmon tay, how do you lose a stapler? isnt it always on your desk" "not today, girl i dont even know. do you have one or not?" "let me check", you rummage through a couple drawers, finally finding one
"here you go" you say, handing it to her. "thank you! you're a life saver, he's cute by the way" she thanks, whispering the last part to you. she's quick to excuse herself, leaving you and chris once again. "hey, go get a vistors pass from the front office" "why? "so you can stay silly"
-
"okay guys, before we enter the room, i have a couple of announcements. first of all, remember mrs. nova is sick so she isnt here today, it's just me and a small guest in there, okay? be nice and respectful towards him, treat him like you treat me and mrs. nova or i'll have to move your clip down, got it? second of all, me and that guest worked hard on a small surprise for you guys, dont immediately rush towards it, sit at your desk and wait for further instructions"
"yes ma'am!"
you smile and open the door, watching as some of the kids gasp and cheer in excitement when they notice the table, others pointing at chris. "wanna be called mister chris? or just chris?" you ask as you walk towards him. "chris is fine" you nod, looking at your students,
"guys, say hi to chris for me"
"hi chris!!!"
"he'll be our guest for today, he bought and helped set up your treats, so make sure to thank him when you come up. now, before i allow you guys to come up here, there's a brown paper bag on your desk, what you're going to do is color and write your name on this heart," you hold up the paper cutout, "and then cut the heart out following the little lines," you point at the dash lines, continuing your instructions, feeling chris' gaze on you the whole time
your kids get to decorating their paper bags, you and chris deciding to make one for funsies. the 2 of you talk about random things, you glancing up every other second to monitor the class, watching as they worked on their masterpieces. soon, 15 minutes pass, and you decide that was enough time. "marco" "polo!"
"okay guys, you should be done with your bags by now—let me see them, hold them up," you smile as the lids proudly show off their work, messy hearts and drawings scattered all over the bag, name barely readable
"now, i'm going to call you guys table by table to come get your snacks, okay? if you want pink lemonade ask chris nicely and he'll pour you some, okay? remember to thank him"
"yes miss l/n!!"
"cool cool, dylan's table, go ahead and come up here," the group of 4 scatter to the table, a small smile lands on your face as you watch them interact with chris. "while they get their treat, does anyone have any questions?"
"is chris your boyfriend!?" "do you like chris!?" "have you kissed chris!?" "why is chris here!?" "chris is cute!!" "is chris your valentine!?"
you laugh as you hear their questions, "okay nevermind, no questions. steph's table,"
-
minutes later, the kids are laughing as they color and eat their candy. "old mcdonald had a farm," "e-i-e-i-o"
"im aware you guys also brought some snacks to pass out. so, what we're going to do is go around the room and put whatever goodies you brought inside the paper bags, okay?"
the students get up, dropping cards, little fidgets, snacks, anything they brought into the bags. you reach over under the teachers desk, grabbing a bag filled with goody bags you had made the previous night and begin to pass them around, some of your students coming up to you and handing you small gift bags
around 7 minutes later, the class finishes passing out their treats. "who wants to watch a movie?" you ask them, the kids cheering in excitement, their way of saying 'me!". "hey sweetie, what's the login to your disney+ account" you mumble towards chris, handing him the laptop. once he logs in, you scroll through the movies, your kids ultimately picking The Good Dinosaur
as the movie plays, you had chris pass out color sheets with some boxes of crayons so the kids could color as they watched the movie. soon enough, you pop a dumdum lollipop in your mouth, looking over at chris as he sits back down, noticing how engaged he seemed in the movie. you chuckle to yourself, sipping on your beverage
-
the end of the day came quicker than you thought. after the movie, you took them to specials—they had music class on friday, which lasted an hour, so you got to tidy the room a bit, forcing chris offering to help. the rest of the day then consisted of small activities going over what they learned the previous day. the last thing you guys did was read a book, to which your kindergartners insisted chris read. once he finished reading the book, you had the kids clean up again, taking them down to the car line where the other teachers would help them get in their respective car or bus, afterwards
“see? i totally crushed it,” chris says as you pack your stuff up. "they 100% love me"
"right on both things, you did better than i thought," you reply, remembering how he'd help the kids out with whatever they needed, making them laugh, and overall just getting to know them, well as well as you could get to know a 5 year old
“you're good with them, you know,” you say quietly when he joins you in packing the remaining food up. chris shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “yeah, well, they’re better company than most adults. present company excluded, of course.”
“of course,” you reply with a laugh, nudging him playfully. for a moment, it’s just the two of you, the chaos of the classroom fading into the background. and as Chris hands you a left over cupcake with an exaggerated bow, you can’t help but feel like maybe he’s not the nonchalant person he wants everyone to think he is
a/n: HELLA LATE vday post, lowkey sucks but i was lowk reminiscing on the good ol' class parties 💔
—check out my masterlist! to see the rest of this series
[once again, dividers by @dollywons]
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo fic#tomboy#chris sturniolo blurb#valentines day#elementary school#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#send help#blurb#sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fandom
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‧❀✿❀Omegaverse Culture Overview❀✿❀
𑁍 warning.. I am.. African American... Never been outside the US, so I can really only speak on the culture around me. If people wanna weigh in on culture from other places please do. Actually, I'm begging, I'm rolling over, I'm listening please please please please please please please please please please volunteer your own headcanons. 𑁍
This will be a short overview of a lot of things, so it's just gonna be a lot of thoughts and not a lot of depth. However I am planning on actually making an indepth post about each one of these topics.
With that being said...
‧₊˚✿Food✿˚₊‧
𑁍just general food headcanons𑁍
The omega stereotype is craving carbs and sweet foods, specifically because of what they're like after heats. Most energy during heat is depleted, so in order to get their stamina back they have to eat all of carb heavy foods
The alpha stereotype is craving tough or crunchy foods, because of their ruts. With biting instincts ramped up they tend to want things that are harder to chew through. It's like the equivalent of putting a live cricket in a spider enclosure because they want the stimulation from hunting their food
Carb and protein filled foods tend to be stocked in most houses. Especially filling carbs. Families are typically very large, with multiple generations all living within walking distance or in the same house. Keeping dense foods stocked is important to keep everyone fed
Pups in particular tend to have slightly stricter diets because their stomach isn't built for handing some foods until at least their preteen years
‧₊˚✿Names✿˚₊‧
𑁍naming your children, as well as derogatory names𑁍
I think that people would tend to name their kids after items that smell good, their favorite foods, other family members, plants, and religion
I also think they'd be a fan of situational names as well as generational names
For example, have three kids, one being named Sunday (situational, born on a Sunday), Suzie (maybe a pack members or a family members name), and Sumiya but her nickname is sushi, and all of the names starting with "su" makes the names generational.
You could even expand on that and have all the packs kids names be something like suki, sumirah, summer, summo, ect. Giving you a quite literal generation of names. (<- my family did this ! All the girls names end in "ah" and all the boys end in "en or on")
I can also see a kid being named something like Foxglove, Cedar, Jasmine, or even something like Honey or Teatree, because that's what the parent's mate smells like
I think calling an omega a "slick dripper" or a "slick house" is uhm... Not exactly a slur but it's not something you should say.
I think that married betas and omegas are told they are "Collared". It's typically derogatory, but there are exceptions. I think the alpha equivalent would be "Bitched", which is basically always derogatory
I think some people call betas "baren" or "scentless". Once again, not a slur, but definitely something close to it lol
‧₊˚✿Housing✿˚₊‧
𑁍pack houses and their differences𑁍
There's two different notable styles of home. There's a regular house, and a pack house
Pack houses don't have too much of a difference, but they are larger and tend to follow similar layouts. With one floor being taken up with giant meeting rooms and similarly size kitchens, as well as at least one bathroom with either a huge tub or multiple small ones. The upstairs floor(s) tend to house all the bedrooms and a few smaller on suite bathrooms
Some pack houses are essentially just mini mansions, completely with a few different wings of the house all marked by a different meeting room
And the term "meeting room" is also a difference. They're essentially just big living rooms. Why is there a different name, isn't that a bit pretentious? You ask. Bc some guy who thought he was better than everyone else coined the term pack house and decided there needed to be a difference, for some reason
‧₊˚✿Families/Packs✿˚₊‧
𑁍general pack headcanons𑁍
Big families !!! Huge families even !! Families that take up entire neighborhoods or culdesacs !!
Conversations between kids where they ask how many mom's someone has is common !! Kids ask their parents why their friend gets to have 5 dads but they only get to have 2 !!
Not everyone's parents are romantic !! Some are just part of the same pack !!
In my personal au I use prime omegas and prime alphas, but they're just titles for the leaders of the pack. Even then, modernly they aren't doing much leading. It's more event planning, pupsitting, tie breaking lol, things like that
Your primes do not have to be mates or anything. It's just about who's the most reliable and level headed. Oftentimes, anybody who stays home for most or all of the day falls to this roll by default
‧₊˚✿Clothing✿˚₊‧
𑁍a few clothing headcanons𑁍
Collars aren't typically worn outside casually. Typically they have a cause. Whether it's newly weds, protests, covering scent glands, or some secret 4th thing, they typically have a purpose.
Honestly this whole section would need to be it's own post for me to do it justice tbh
Clothes that "trap scent" are pretty commonly worn. They're made of a light but thick fabric that cinches or cuffs around the scent glands and they often comes in matching sets. This is especially common in omega targeted gym wear, but there are sets made for everyone
Nuns also typically wear this type of garment
‧₊˚✿Other✿˚₊‧
𑁍miscellaneous headcanons𑁍
Gift giving is very important. Specifically, giving food is very important (I am biased, I am a very food orientated and motivated person). Giving someone food they don't like by accident is alright, but if you know they don't like it, and give it to them? Disrespectful.
So I'm semi familiar with the Christian Bible, I grew up going to church (<- religious trauma haver). You know how a lot of people draw Jesus as white even though he very much wasn't ?? Yeah I think people claim Jesus was an alpha, but he was a beta and there's overwhelming evidence in the Bible to show he was beta and people just ?? Ignore that bc they want to lol
Some people are born with animal features, some aren't. The place you were born in + your parents (and maybe a little plot relevant magic lol) determines what type of features you get. People who live in deserts or next to mountains are often born with horns or scales, while tropical and temperate climates tend to be born with more feathers and furry features
Heat blockers/suppressants as well as rut blockers/suppressants can only be prescribed by doctors. Giving them out or selling them can land you in prison post haste, but they're also so hard to get your hands on that the market of people buying them counterfeit grows everyday, despite the complications and risks
Blockers and suppressants can lead to fertility issues as well as immune issues, particularly in omegas, but don't count out anyone with ruts either, it's just less common. Lots of people on blockers are immunocompromised
Scent/pheromone blockers on the other hand, are much easier to come by, especially because they sell patches right over the counter. Though, if you wanted a much more discreet pill you would need to get those prescribed as well. It is particularly hard for omegas to get them prescribed, as usual
And that's it for now U^ェ^U
This post is basically just a giant reminder for me to write about these topics in depth. Just a whole lotta surface level thoughts. I also didn't cover weddings, holidays, mating rituals, social climate, etc. so I'll have to do separate posts on those
This took a bit longer than I wanted bc I am uhm. Suicidal lol. And then there's the drake v Kendrick beef and I've been fixated on it. Like I fr don't even like K dot that much I've just always hated Drake fuck that nga !!!
If you see a spelling mistake... No you didn't...
#𑁍shut up shii𑁍#omegaverse#miscecanis#a/b/o#a/b/o dynamics#omegaverse worldbuilding#a/b/o verse#alpha beta omega#misceanimalis#omegaverse headcanons#omegaverse au#a/b/o word building#a/b/o lifestyle#a/b/o universe#a/b/o au#a/b/o headcanon#im thinking about starting to write a little something something#as in an AU I mean#i have OCs... they forming... rotting my brain out of my skull and taking over#𑁍shii's verse𑁍#i wanted to talk about holidays but i just dont have the capacity rn 😖😖#still playing around with how I want my posts to look. debating if i wanna go a step further with formating or not#omegaverse lifestyle#omega lifestyle#sfw omegaverse
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It's a time-honoured tradition- every time Sam comes across Izzy (and Ed) in their travels, he asks Izzy to marry him. And every time, Izzy turns him down.
At this point, Sam is asking more for the sake of it than any belief Izzy will ever say yes, a remnant of childhood dedication touched with 30 years of heartbreak and regret- though even now, a small part of him still holds out hope. Sam's promises have only got more extravagant over the years, from a job as his first mate, to a captaincy, a fleet at his command, a whole fucking island if that's what Izzy wants- but he knows it isn't though, not really. If Izzy was ever going to agree to marry him, to leave his life and go with Sam, it wouldn't be for anything Sam could offer him. Izzy never did care for flashy shows of wealth, for a ship or to be captain. The only thing that ever mattered to him was loyalty given, and loyalty shown in return.
It all comes to a head after Stede left and came back, after Izzy lost a toe, lost his leg. Sam hasn't seen him since before things with Ed started to really slide off the rails, before stress permanently set into the lines of Izzy’s face. So, when he sees a dishevelled man with a hoof for a leg in a no-name port, he doesn't even consider the idea that he might know him. It's only when he turns towards him, and Sam catches a glance at those oh too familiar tattoos, he realises this is Izzy, his Izzy, that stands before him.
Knowing Izzy's discomfort with pity, he doesn't treat him any differently than he would in years gone by, positioning himself in Izzy's line of sight before approaching and sweeping him up into a bone crushing hug.
“Israel-goddamn-Hands!” he exclaims, as Izzy grumbles back a begrudging “Samuel-fucking-Bellamy”, a tradition almost as old as their friendship itself. Izzy might not hug him back, but he can’t keep the corner of his mouth from twitching, just for a second.
(If Sam holds Izzy a little tighter and a little longer than usual, well. That's his business)
By the time Sam lets go, most of the crew has appeared in the town square, drawn in by the commotion. They may have given Izzy his leg and welcomed him as one of them, but still there’s an underlying tension, with nobody quite ready to set aside everything that happened before the Kraken. Seeing him cosying up to an unknown man sets everyone on edge, unsure whether to come to their first mate’s aid, or to assume that they've been betrayed once again.
When Ed sees that the yelling was Sam, his hand goes tense where it's held in Stede's. He knows the routine, has seen it more times than he can count, but as he watches them part he realises that this is the first time in a long time he's unsure of what Izzy's response will be.
Knowing that something’s different, knowing that Izzy's feeling vulnerable already, Sam doesn't go for the same flashy proposal he’s been giving for years. He doesn't promise Izzy the world, he doesn't cause a scene (or, any more of a scene than he already has, anyway). He looks at the fractured man in front of him, takes his face in his hands, and says the exact same thing to him he said when they were little more than boys. “Israel, I have to ask you. I know what you'll say, but I have to try. Come with me. Marry me and sail away with me. I'll keep you safe”
And Izzy… hesitates. He glances over at Ed, at Stede, and says to Sam “...We’re staying in port for a week. Ask me again then”
That's the moment Sam knows there is something deeply, horribly, wrong. He's not just looking at an Izzy who got seriously injured in a fight and is struggling to cope, this is something so much bigger than that- and that Ed has something to do with it. Izzy wouldn't even be considering leaving if he didn't. Whether it was negligence or something more sinister, Sam doesn't yet know, but he intends to find out.
#i feel like the little paragraph about the crew is real clunky and out of place but i wanted some kind of establishment of where those#dynamics are at. its important that the crew is something for izzy to consider in his decision; but also that their relationship isnt so#solid he would stay for them alone; yknow?#im sorta aiming for a s2e5 era but like. early in those themes. he cant be all sorted yet i need him to be struggling#anyway this is part of a much larger scenario in my head that im never ever doing anything with but i wrote THIS bit in a daze in like. jun#and i got thinking about it again and i think?? it holds its own as a 'hey think about THIS' snippet. idk you decide#youre welcome to interpret this as solo bellhands but in my head it Has morphed into sam/izzy/ed/stede#because i cant not put edizzy in things any more. izzy has two hands#i also think the comedy potential of one of your boyfriends HATING your other boyfriend is gold. 10/10 dynamic#stede is mostly along for the ride in this but also i think they need him#aaaaand. the sam/ed bracket i think can only be closed in exceptional circumstances. i think they 'hate' each other too much#...which is WHY someones getting kidnapped!!! yay#anyway its all irrelevant because ill never write it out. i can do silly chill things but thatll require work#nyxtalks#ofmd#our flag means death#izzy hands#israel hands#sam bellamy#bellhands#i wanna also say. the general concept of repeated sam proposals has been floating around my head forever#it used to be a more silly thing like i referenced at the start but. s2 gave me angsty feelings i guess#i cant not have izzy have feelings for ed right now which inherently adds layers to Any bellhands scenarios i think.#but yeah. its a Classic Bellhands vibe for me. sam seeing izzy at sea or on shore and asking him to marry him (again)#i like to do this with jackie too. i think i just want that man to be obnoxiously desired#(theres also layers of my personal hornigold era lore built into this but i hope it holds up without u knowing it. tldr. sam lost izzy by#being an idiot n fumbling the bag. thats what matters. izzy went with ed and sams been trying to fix it ever since)#i probably should have readmore'd this but i didnt think it was Quite long enough. or had a good break point. sorry <3
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some expressions!! ^_^...
#resident evil#jill valentine#ada wong#chris redfield#albert wesker#biohazard#resident evil fanart#fanart#trying not to think about how wonky some of these are HGHJGHFKGL#im writing a fic about jill and ada meeting between canon (chris and wesker are also there sometimes) and i feel rlly delusional about it#so i have been rotating them in my head and needed to draw them#ada dont turn round but theres an evil resident behind u...a bastard...#i didnt realise that i ended up drawing them at different angles but weskers is just all 3/4 apart from the profile sorry HJDSFGDSFL..#also also . profiles are so hard im out of practice. im also not used to drawing shorter hairstyles so that was fun#i know in most cases chris' eyes are blue but they are brown. to Me#i wanted to make ada's eyes kind of hazel but i dont think i did a v good job#i cant stop doing the little squiggly blush thing i cant even remember when i started doing that#makes them look like ash ketchum or something#i need to stop rambling
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Hey remember when I said that this was the most frustrating thing about being a Helluva Boss enjoyer?
Yeah I was wrong.
The most frustrating thing about being a Helluva Boss enjoyer is explicitly stating multiple times that I like show and then get called an anti and homophobic and media illiterate when I complain about the direction it has taken.
I LIKE the comedy
I LIKE the animation and artstyle
I LIKE the more serious plotlines like the government agents plot and the Cherubs plot
I LIKE the themes of friendship and found family
I even like most of the songs!
And ofc the voice cast slays every time
But just because your show has angst and tears and drama and sad music doesn't automatically make it "good".
Just because your characters are queer doesn't automatically make them good or well written characters
This fandom is so frustrating to deal with when you want to express your more nuanced takes of it
This is probably gonna be the last post I make about this subject and about Helluva Boss in general, this shit is too stupid to deal with
#still cant get over how i got called an anti and homophobic and media illiterate for saying:#'damn i wish the comedy show written by comedians had more comedy in it'#you can absolutely 100% write a comedy show with a more serious plot thread running through the whole thing#some of the most memorable and popular animated shows are just that#you got Gravity Falls The Owl House the Tales of Arcadia trilogy She-Ra ATLA etc....#fuck it even the first few seasons of Voltron for crying out loud#but the problem im having with HB is that its not a comedy with a serious plot thread anymore#its all drama all tears all angst with the occasional joke thrown in here and there#most of the shows I mentioned start off with episodic comedic adventures with hints towards the more serious stuff here and there#but the Stolitz drama started in the FIRST EPISODE#(in my opinion) the best eps of s1 are the ones that have little to nothing to do with Stolitz when we're given time to get to know the team#because we got to have FUN first we got to see the team dynamic in action#if the “serious plot thread” in HB was Blitz's relationships why didnt he apologize to Moxie and Millie in Apology Tour? or Loona?#or his FUCKING SISTER??????#the government agents and the Cherubs plotline makes x100 more sense as a serious plot thread for the premise of the series anyway#i could go on and on about this but I wont cause Im tired of thinking about this#this is stupid#im gonna ENJOY HB when I can#but that doesn't mean that there arent SERIOUS narrative issues with the series#and if you enjoy Stolitz good for you#peace and love#but its not something I can overlook#helluva boss#helluva boss critical#helluva boss criticism#helluva boss critique
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starting to feel my enjoyment of cooking seeping back in after a long period of intense burnout that had me really slogging along preparing meals with gritted teeth for a good month there. i credit the return of this spark to the much needed break i took on our 3 day vacation that resulted in us eating solely theme park food. while delicious, in all its greasy overpriced glory, i found myself missing the kitchen. so last night for dinner i made heavily spiced chicken wings with crushed peppercorns and garam masala that rendered slowly in its own fat while roasting in the oven, resulting in flavorful charred crisp skin and a really juicy bite. we picked them clean over steamed rice with lime and scallions. i also baked a loaf of marbled pumpkin and dark chocolate bread yesterday for my neighbor as a thank you for doing me a favor last week. it looked delicious. the crumb was tender and plush and velvety, the spiced ginger molasses pumpkin batter swirling alongside the bitter dark chocolate espresso batter, with puddles of dark chocolate bubbling across its top. it looked so lovely i whipped up a second one for us to have for ourselves that's in the oven now, i think it could be a really good breakfast pastry for us this week.
#ugh it feels sooooooooo good to be enjoying cooking again#it was so bad the last like month or so i just#have been sooooo burnt out#it's genuinely insane what a 3 day vacation can do to reset you :(( it makes me sad lol#i wish that everyone could rest to their hearts content forever#i think i am someone who is extremely prone to burnout and i need about quadruple the amount of quiet alone resting time#that the average person does#so when i get burned out its like excruciating to pull myself out of it again#but im also the primary cook of my household so there isn't really time to take a break and recharge and find my joy for it because#we have to eat lol#3 times a day#every day#forever#BUT#i am feeling so much better about things now after making that dinner and baking a little bit#its feeling soooo autumnal around here lately too which helps#the changing of the seasons is so good for my cooking motivationg#idk#i was feeling pretty depressed that i was starting to resent cooking for a while there since when i enjoy it it's like#life-giving#soul sustaining#wonderful hobby that gives my life purpose and meaning#and it was breaking my heart that i wasn't feeling that way anymore#but i can feel myself coming back#writing about food helps me too#something about describing it#and sharing it with other people who are delighted by it#makes me enjoy it a little extra#sigh#i feel like im returning to myself finally !!!
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wrestling fic writers!!
i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months
if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found
and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom
and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways
a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜
nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you
and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)
as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!
101 comment starters
ao3 floating comment box
kudos html
dont know how to comment? easy solutions
a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)
an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers
and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place
i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together
happy sharing and commenting 💜💜
#wrestling fanfiction#wrestling fic#aew fanfic#aew fanfiction#wwe fanfiction#wwe fanfic#i hope this make some sort of coherent sense#despite being a writer im really bad at words lmao#i also dont know what to tag this with without clogging main tags so im going to trust moots to get this going first#just. this is a topic im passionate about. i love writing i love writers and having seen the wrestling fandom as of late really struggling#with this. we need to do something. even a little bit helps. actually get people leaving feedback and commenting again#supporting each other. we can do this together#dont let dreams be dreams lets fucking do this#just be nice and help each other out#im gonna stop now before i get overly emotional. if theres any questions let me know tho i think i got the main parts pretty clear here#again moots. im trusting you to get this started. im not gonna add my own shit here immediately this isnt about me#this is about the community as a whole#i also hope nobody is afraid of adding themselves here. you are all valid and worth the attention no matter what#just remember to also give if you leave something here. look at the previous links. look in the notes to find more people#okay thats it i need to make dinner now#lets just be kind and support one another. promise me that 💜#night is an absolute mess on main
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okok my brain not braining rn but.... smth smth stan starting to figures tbings out when SHERMIE calls asking ford to watch the kiddos like
stan: hello? if this is the irs you can talk to me in person!
shermie: ford blah blah blah kids blah summer blah blah
stan: (why tf is my brother calling this ford guy????? and familiar with him?????) uhhhhh...
OH HEY i hadn't even read this ask when I wrote my response to that other one so I guess we're just on the same brainwave with "Shermie is the one to ask Stan to take care of the kids"
Stan is so confused because like. Shermie is his brother. He knows Shermie is his older brother. Everytime someone mentions Stan's brother they're obviously talking abut Shermie. Right? So why is Shermie calling up Stanford (how does Shermie know Stanford exists? So why does his brother Shermie somehow know who Stanford is? Does he know Stanley stole this random dude's identity? Except, no, Shermie thinks Stanford is his brother, which is super weird. And Stan is so absolutely baffled about this whole thing that he finds himself agreeing to Shermie's request before he can think through "taking care of a couple of kids for an entire summer"
#i should make an ask tag#stan (singular) au#ykw im just gonna clarify this one in writing now#bc im confusing myself#the family thinks stanley is dead or disappeared entirely#bc nobody has heard from him in smth like 40 years#they think ford has gone a little kooky in his shack in the woods#because he hasn't talked to any of them in 30 years#and for a hot minute any time any of them opened a call with 'hey stanford' he would just yell something about 'them' being after them and#then hang up abruptly#(this is not helped by the fact that Stanford had 'them' (demons) after him)#(and stanley-pretending-to-be-stanford had 'them' (the cops+random gangs he antagonized as stanley) after him)#so there's a bit of a crossover in actually-stanford going a bit insane and ghosting everybody#and stanley-as-stanford trying to cut out everyone from That Stanford Guy's life and ignoring anyone who seems to know who he (stanford) is#so the family eventually gave up tryign to contact stanford for like 20ish years#then obv the parents died#so its just shermie after like 20 years like 'okay fuck this im sending my grandkids to drag my idiot brother out of his cave'#surprise. wrong brother!#i'm retroactively making this scenario the canon-to-the-au one#stan doesn't have the twins literally just show up on his doorstep at the start of the summer lmao
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one of the few zelda youtuber guys that seems to actually love totk made a video about it (i guess bc so many talked about why they dont like it) and while i didnt watch it i took a peek into the comments and of course its full of people going "LMAO people only dislike it bc it didnt validate their crazy theories!!" "its always the same when a new zelda comes out lol at first they hate it and then later its a classic haha idiots" "people who dont like it are just caught up in their nostalgia and cant accept anything new being introduced!!"
also thanking him for "speaking up" about loving the game ... which i find kinda mind boggling bc the internet is full of praise and 10/10s for it
i obviously dont want to villainize people that love totk but like .. these kinds of comments are so unecessarily judgemental? how dare someone NOT like an entry in the franchise and voice legit criticism, how dare someone not worship the game just bc it has zelda on it! CLEARLY they are just made delusional by their own fantasy and will realize later just how wrong they were! hah! those fools!
on my rants there were quite a few people who actually said they like the game but agree with alot of my views on it regardless, it is very flawed but i can also see that the good things outweigh the bad stuff for others, even if i legitimately hate it; but i also had to block multiple people bc they got so butthurt about me criticising it
and i dont think its 100% just an opinion thing either, totk, even when i disregard my personal feelings on the matter, has alot of problems, moreso than the other zeldas (each judged for how it was in their time) and in pretty much every part of the game too (story, lore, continuity, gameplay and rewards, UI-) and i think alot of it stems from its conception, they have never done a true direct sequel before and it came from a DLC idea, and it shows (though i still believe even coming from that you could have done something way better..... bc they also made botw, which seemed to prepare fertile ground for more storytelling that was all discarded for NO reason)
BUT that doesnt mean you cant like it anyway! there are some very horribly shitty games out there that are beloved by people anyway! and thats fine! i love ww and botw, both of which HAVE flaws too! and thats okay!
you dont need to be dismissive of any hint of criticism like that, there is no holy honor to defend, it just makes you look like a jerk
#ganondoodles talks#zelda#totk#ganondoodles rants#a little#sorry but like#theres many baffling writing choices in totk#and some mind boggling bad game design too#especially judged by modern games#and completely unnecessary!!#why even call it a sequel if you erase everything from the previous game#and then give some bs excuses in interviews#sorry im starting to rant again#everytime i think about totk i want to bite something bc it could have been so good#and no it didnt have to furfill all my theories or whatever#the biggest problem is that they even refuse to aknowledge the things they established for this new world#which is somethign that will never let me go#you had such a good world build there#you could have gone in so many directions forward#and isntead you go backwards while trampling over the previous game#argh im doing it again#its just so frustrating#you could have been the chosen one#;__;#im calling it the pokemon problem#so much potential thrown out the window again and again for something mediocre but with hints that give you a taste of greatness#greatness that will never be truly taken advantage of
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i'm a cis woman, but in the past few years i've developed a habit of headcanoning any male character i relate to as a trans women, beginning a fic trying to explore that, and then miserably falling short as i can never figure out how to end the story. i've recently joined a new fandom and started my most recent attempt at writing this ever-elusive character interpretation i've been trying to explain for years. and it occurs to me that maybe the reason i keep trying to interpret these characters i relate to as women and failing to, is because i'm trying to project the wrong experience. because i think that conclusion i can never fully bring myself to write isn't one about coming to terms with womanhood and embracing that identity, but about coming to terms with being a man.
so tldr im a trans man and this is a coming out post.
#shaking a little bit writing this but like. i dont know.#ive felt. alone a lot and ive been very scared of actually doing anything to make myself happy for a lot of my life#and ive felt a lot of shame about particularly. i dont know.#i feel a lot of shame in general#but about my gender. about feeling like i cant transition because i dont want to do it the way you see in media#and that its cool for other people to be gnc and trans and present however they want but#that itd be wrong for me. that id be faking#and i dont know i think im tired of running from it#im acting like this is some terrible truth. like this is an unspeakable evil i would inflict on the world by doing something that could mak#me happy. make me feel comfortable#i dont want that shame anymore#i never deserved it#anyways. i like the name angus. please call me angus from now on although autumn is actually still fine i do fw that name. always have#but i need to say this and put it out into the world and not take it back#this is my experience. this is my starting point. and fanfic and writing have been a big part of that#anyways. shoutout to#james wilson#most recent blorbo ive tried to trans the gender of. i think ill be able to finish this fic though lol.#trans#coming out#fandom#fanfic#personal#queer#lgbtqia
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