#just. everything about this is so beautiful and perfect to me. and i can not stress enough that i am CRYING rn

[wooyngz]

sylus is a loverboy to. his. core.

and that, to me, gives the softest of soft doms. pleasure dom to the max idk idk

the first time you even bring up the idea of him being rough with you he’s slightly flabbergasted, but he will do anything that you ask him, so of course he’s gonna fuck you with his hand around your throat, and he’s gonna spank you but he’s gonna make sure he didn’t hit you too hard, “are you okay, sweetie? was that too hard?”

you'd reassure him that, no it wasn't too hard, and he can be rougher. pointing out that he's the big bad leader of onychinus, and he accepts that you're right but asserts that you're too precious to him to ever be anything less than respectful to you.

but that was months ago and he’s definitely found his stride. sex was never bad with him ever, but since he's embraced a different side of him you're in complete and utter heaven and so is he. he likes to see you panting and writhing underneath him. he likes to watch you come undone as he whispers the filthiest things in your ear. he gets off on it. he gets off on the feeling he gets when you give him complete control, knowing that you trust him enough to let him do whatever he wants with you.

“that’s it…” his hand reaches between your bodies to circle your sensitive clit, “that’s my beautiful girl. you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you? gonna cum for me?” you’re too overwhelmed by the pleasure to form a coherent word. he circles your clit a bit faster, “hmm?” he prompts, he knows you’re fucked out, completely overwhelmed by his cock but he wants to taunt you, wants to give himself a reason to punish you just a bit. he waits for a moment, slows his thrusts just a bit to see if you’ll speak up but when you don’t he almost smirks.

a sharp swat to your ass makes you gasp, “answer me.” he demands, and you do, “yes!” you grunt out, the lingering sting mixing with his work on your clit and the deep feeling of his cock pressing in and out of you at a blinding pace.

“yes what, kitten?” he doesn’t let up on you at all, he loves to watch you like this. you know you’re fluttering around him, your climax is fast approaching. he knows it too because he can feel it, the way you’re gripping his cock, he knows.

“yes m’gonna cum for you!” he hums, happy with your answer. a sloppy kiss is placed on your lips so quick you barely have enough time to kiss him back. he leans back, holding your legs open so that he can watch his cock disappear inside of you with each thrust, his pace is reaching a fever pitch.

“you’re perfect,” he says, watching you as you come undone, “fuck, look at you, you’re so beautiful cumming on my cock.”

he gets off on you getting off, so as you're still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm, he's falling into his. spilling into you with a deep groan, his hips stuttering for the first time all night. aftercare is incredibly important to him, too, so he gives himself a moment to catch his breath before he's springing into action. kissing your face gently, checking in with you “did i hurt you? are you okay, my love?”

he's gently cleaning you up, though he does like the sight of his seed spilling out of you, he knows you hate the mess so he’s quick to get everything cleaned up. if you're thirsty he's getting you water, he's carrying you to the bathroom to pee afterward, everything he's just such a lover boy!!!

i could scream about this forever.

[filmnings]

oh my god i know it has been literal ages since this came out and i said i was gonna read it, but i finally am today!!! i’m literally so excited el you have absolutely no clue!! ^^ of course i had to show out for my fellow evil, off-putting, and weird girls!!! (っ˘з(˘⌣˘ )♡♡

as usual, my live commentary and review hehe!!~~ (and prepare yourself for quite literally the longest review i think ive ever made lmao)

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. — small town girlies stand up!!! but omg i didn’t look at the tags so i’m only going based off what i read in the teaser ages ago but i’m already loving the setting hehe!! freaky shit always goes down in a small town

And too many churches to keep track of if the abandoned ones were included in the count. — there literally always are churches fucking everywhere omg… like just thinking about my own town there’s literally one on every corner, abandoned or not. christianity is quite literally hovering over you at every step of the way here

You like to think your parents were happy before you too. — oop… she’s already sounding like me… completely felt this

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. — this paragraph omg… i love it so much. already it sets the dynamic that mc is gonna have not only with her parents but with others AND it sets the tone of the beginning of the fic. her father literally saying that the birth of her soul was a “red-herring” is absolutely insane and darksided to say about your own child. like what???

man i already feel for her😭 like i’m only what? like five paragraphs in and BOOM her dad thinks she’s the antichrist and needs the light of god to save and guide her.. this poor girl😭😭 i can only imagine what her life was like

That year on the farm there was nothing but death. — the crops and animals on the farm felt her aura from her mom’s womb

parents so stupid that it never crossed their minds that there was most likely a plight

Before you were even conscious of the situation everything was already deemed your fault. — classic parenting

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. — oh god. please do NOT let this man preach… he’s gonna turn it into a cult day one (future kipo here again, i’m editing this bottom to top lmao: but wait omg were you inspired by maxxxine while writing this?? because this is reminding me so much of her and her father (and their whole relationship in general)! if not, you should definitely check the movie out, i think you’d really like it!!!)

AYEEE WAKE UP IN DAY ONEEE☝️ … sorry about that it’s 2am… i gotta lock in and be more serious

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. — classic parenting again

can i just take a moment to say how i absolutely love and adore your writing el?? like seriously, it’s so beautiful. every word you string together to create the most perfect sentence that eventually leads to the most stunning tapestry is astonishing. you’re able to set the tone so easily and the way you establish your characters and the personalities with just a few words is mind boggling. like we haven’t even technically met mc thus far, and already you can get a sense of who she is just by word of mouth from others. you can tell how her home life might’ve shaped her simply by her telling us what happened around her—her birth, the decline in everything, the abuse of religion and violence. it’s truly wonderful, i need to get on your level!!! like seriously i need you to teach some classes or something for the rest of us over here with our jaws tumbling down the stairs

like even the word choices… her birth being described as the day she “ripped her mother open” … like omg i’ll stop glazing now but i need you to publish a book like yesterday!!!

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. — did he ever consider that maybe he is the problem??? like sir.. if everything is thriving while you’re gone and decaying when you’re here, that’s not because of your daughter, that’s because of YOU!!! classic toxic parent wanting to blame their own actions on their child

speaking of, and i know i haven’t even really gotten to the story yet lmao please stick with me😭😭 but i’m really loving the way you allude the death and decay and the abuse of religion to how toxic parents are in real life. like how the praying to god and preaching clearly biased and wrong teachings can be synonymous with how a toxic parent will act like everyone but themselves are the problem, and then spew that same rhetoric to others outside of the household. then have the nerve to portray how they’re perfect, how their family is perfect. how when the dad leaves the farm thrives, but when he’s here it decays. it’s like how when a toxic parent leaves everything is finally still and peaceful and quiet, but when they return, so does all of that chaos and negative energy.

now i could just be reading into things a little too much, and it possibly could just be taken at face value lmao, but it’s still a neat little detail to think about!! and i love that hehe

They wanted someone else to be their baby. Something that felt more like a blessing than you. — damn this just hit like a fucking train and a loaded truck immediately after

Your father constantly spitting in your mother’s face that you were the rot to the fruit of her womb. — god this sentence… so beautiful but so heartbreaking…

Perhaps just born resilient. — she’s just a kid💔💔

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.  — cruelty is learned!!☝️

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.” — this poor girl… all she knows is violence and destruction

A way to learn how to be human. — stop this is breaking my heart omfg..

kill the father. i am so serious. kill him now.

“god told me—” SHUT THE FUCK UPP‼️‼️‼️

Maybe all your father really was is the executioner. — woah… oh my god…

the whole sacrificial tree scene with the bible verse.. this man is truly insane to think he is the hand of god.. like who bathes their daughter in sacrificial lamb blood because she had hopes and dreams of living a regular, normal human life?? because she dreamed of the world outside of the farm and the negativity that surrounded it, especially when her father was there??? like goddd i just want strangle him. and then her mother… like i know she’s a victim in this too, but at some point you have to grow a fucking backbone and protect your child—your ONLY child. she’s a coward and he’s fucking insane

AND THEN THE WHOLE “i know no punishment, only mercy.” LINE HE FUCKING INSTILLS INTO HER??? like no wonder she feels and thinks that she’s some freak of nature, some rotting limb… free her… no like seriously girl get behind me and i’ll take care of it all

He hits like a bitch, you think. — hell fucking yeah he does!!! HIT THAT BITCH BACK!!!!!

You can feel him wipe his bloodied hand on the side of your shirt. — oh fuck you.. take the nearest rock and bash his head in

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. — SUNGHOONNNNNNN

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. — she is literally just like me

Your mother eyes you suspiciously as you corner the handsome man, but she says nothing. Sometimes she fears you too. — god forbid a girl is socially underdeveloped and wants to have a little fun!!!

this is reminding me of the time my mom and sister were talking about how much of a loner i am right in front of me (i know, embarrassing😭) and my mom legit goes “well you’re socially undeveloped and don’t have any friends, how else do you expect to spend your time? (the topic was me being a homebody and always in my room reading)” i was like oh! … like damn… well who’s fault is that??? not mine!! 😭😭

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. — and so their love story begins hehehehe but no seriously i love that this is kinda like him “crossing the line” so to speak. like despite everything he still took her hand, bloody and all, and shakes it gently. i can tell that he’s already gonna be that change and stable pole that she really needs right now

#StartMakingMenUncomfortable2025 🔥🔥🔥🔥

And you know he’s nervous under your intense gaze because your hand feels like a lamb is still bleeding above you. — stop i love this comparison omg you’re actually a genius for this

Although you’re wearing the lamb, having Sunghoon’s hand in yours made you feel like a wolf. — THIS LINEEEEE 🔥🔥🔥

WAIT OMG WE’RE GETTING HIS POV TOO??? omg let’s fucking go i love dual pov

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. — stop i love that we get his pov for this moment

His expression is blank, blinking slowly at the strange girl then down to his hand that’s stained red too. — mark of the red-herred soul 🌀🌀‼️

Above the fireplace hangs a painting depicting Jesus healing a blind man. — i feel like this may be relevant later… maybe i’m “the curtains are blue to represent sadness”-ing everything too much, but i got my analytical reader goggles on (future kipo: omg i literally forgot about this.. i could really deep it and say that this is the two of them, her as jesus and sunghoon as the blind man. she “heals” him and shows him that human desire isn’t sinful, that love in general—no matter the form—is sinful, but natural. and that he shouldn’t feel shame and guilt because he feels the way regular humans do for others!!!! and vice versa!! it could also be him as jesus and her as the blind man, him “healing” her and showing her that she IS good, no matter what her parents tried to beat into her for simply living. he shows her that she is capable of love and joy and everything else that equates to happiness—and he shows her that he isn’t afraid to express that to her. to show that he does truly love her for all she is!!! and to “show” her that it’s okay for her to show it to him to herself, that it isn’t something she needs to repress or hide behind anger or any other violent act!!)

i love the fact that she’s just toying with him😭😭 he’s utterly terrified of her and she’s all like “hehe you’re so cute and shy”

“You have a constellation on your face. So many moles… Do you have a girlfriend?” — straight to the point😭 but stop her saying he has a constellation on his face is so freaking cute

“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. — we are so up i’m at the edge of my seat leaning in towards the stage

“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.” — oop!

He makes another noise, a whimper. — i love it when pretty men whimper >>>

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. — OH WE ARE SO FUCKING UPPP

A single tear runs down his face and you find satisfaction in it. — I LOVE WHEN PRETTY MEN CRYYYYY >>>>>>

this must be what it feels like to do 47 lines of coke IM ON TOP OF THE WORLDDDD

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. — INJECT ITTTTTT‼️‼️‼️

i think this is the greatest scene i’ve ever read in my entire life. like i NEEDDDDD this. like i need someone so desperate with want for me to give them a handjob and help them out that they’re whimpering and tearful… ugh life is so unfair

love her curious and violent nature she’s so me

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.” — yeah

sorry I’M a whore for degradation and roughness

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. — SHES SOOO ME. at this point i’m gonna have to start a counter on how many times i’ll say this

You stare down at your hand that was earlier covered in the blood of a lamb and now the cum of a virgin. — one could say it’s one and the same ☝️

It looks like fucking snot, you realize with repulse. — HELPDNSJDNDNDN I LITERALLY JUST BURST OUT LAUGHING😭😭😭😭

“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.” — smile quickly fades…

He fell right into sin’s lustful trap and it made him feel so- — so GOOD, take a leap and join the dark side

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. — smile grows…

omg i forgot that it was legit his first day at the farm.. LMAOOOO what a wild first shift😭😭

“I want you.” — hell yeah

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.” — also, she’s so me once again. it’s her mistaking the same desire for anger that’s killing me😭😭 i felt that so deeply.

He breathes out a ‘no’ while you lick a strip over the material. “Why not? I showed you how.” — i just know he’s going absolutely insane

“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.” — woah… i’m gonna start singing your praises again el oh my god

“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. — HEATTTT all this while she’s about to suck his cock too like yesss send them into religious psychosis before giving them immense pleasure!!!

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. — i hope they walk in and have their worlds changed

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. — EXHIBITIONIST🫵‼️‼️

“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. — damn :(

Sunghoon, lost in his own world, fails to realize that his best friend—Jake—battles something similar internally. — oh????

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? — woah… this paragraph…

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. — can someone run him over already

“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 my bad😭😭 i thought this was the father😭😭😭

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.” — fuck that damn daddy i can’t to see his ass burn🔥🔥🔥 but he’s so right sunghoon is stunning id worship him too

“She has a dad?” — HDISBSJDJS IM SORRY THIS IS TAKING ME OUTBSDJDJDND like of course??? 😭😭 did he think she materialized from her mother like clay or something

With outstretched arms, the bundle of flowers shake in his trembling hands. — AWEEEE he’s so fucking cute and awkward

“I-I’ve never had a girlfriend before so I wasn’t sure what to do.. This is what boyfriends do, right?” — oh baby…. oh my godd😭😭😭😭😭 i feel for him i really do…

You look from the neatly wrapped white roses and tulips and back to Sunghoon. — i love the language of flowers hehehe!!! purity and innocence and hope and appreciation eeeee!!!!!!!! he’s so cute.. and he GIVES it to HER!!!!!!! i’m connecting dots

A part of you wants to sneer, but you spin on your heels to hide the warmth that floods your face in substitution. — EEEEEEEEE!!!!!

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. — her equating everytime to anger or violence when it’s in fact endearment and love :((( my poor baby :(((((

So you decide on punishing him for making you feel this way. — she’s so me

Taking his innocence was never going to heal you, or even make him like yourself. In fact, it’s making you sicker. — :(((

Somehow, you ended up punishing yourself. You always had a knack for that, historically, but this time felt different. — again, she’s so fucking me

He feels on edge, wrapping his arms around his shivering body and soaked clothes. — he’s about to get warm alright

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. — EEEEEEE OH MY GOD stop i’m obsessed with them

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. — to be loved is to be known ❤️

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. — literally me with my stuffed white bear that has a winter hat an scarf on

“...Have I ruined you?” You wonder aloud, looking back to the ceiling. “No,” he answers quickly, shaking his head against your shoulder. — WHAT IF I FUCKING SOBBBBB

“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’m gonna rip my hair out

“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. — 1. she’s SOOO fucking me, like on a molecular level. it’s insane. 2. AHHHHEHEHEHEHDHSHHHHHAAHHH

“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. — OH MY GODDDD EVERYONE FUCKING STAY CALM

this is reminding me of the sweet venom lyrics😭😭 i would give up heaven if i had toooooo, just to get another taaaasssttteeeeeee of your sweee-heee-heeeettttt venom-nom-nom~~~~ (future kipo here: why do i always start randomly singing in the middle of my reviews??? 😭)

“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.” — oh my god. what a great day to be bisexual…

no but seriously i see why he goes fucking insane around her like i would too especially after that like omg??? say less

“Do it. Like it’s mating season and you want to claim me before anyone else.” — #YEAH.

He wants more and more of you. — i fucking love how they both want to devour and rapture each other but in vastly different ways… like i desperately need what they have IMMEDIATELY.

“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. — need.

“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. — NEEDDDDD.

OH MY GODDDDD.

His heart hammers against your chest; he wants to mold into you, to become a singular rot. — like is this seriously too much to ask for

It’s almost like God’s wrath is screaming to be seen, to shout that He is watching. — tell him to get in line so am i

“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. — i love how he cries every single time like ughhhh i need that

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. — i felt this in unexplainable ways omg… but the fact that she thought she was so unworthy of it all because it’s literally all she known, thinking that even the world was against her until BOOM… it places sunghoon gently into her hands to show her otherwise… like stop guys what if i cried haha no like actually. what if i cried. and not only does he show her that love doesn’t have to be violent or angry, he shows her that it doesn’t have to be completely conventional either, or traditional. yet, it’s love anyways!! like this story man my god.. el you are such a fucking mastermind and i love you!!!!!

“I think you reminded me of a lamb.” — blue curtaining again, but let’s talk about it!!! the lamb has always been symbolized to be that of pure innocence, which is how sunghoon is portrayed from the very jump. because of that, they are also the number one animal used in sacrifices for various things. at the beginning of the story, her father uses a sacrificial lamb and it’s blood to “cleanse” her of whatever darkness that he thinks harbors in her. it’s the first time we’ve truly seen her voice her emotions and empathy—the first time we see her not mold herself to whatever image her father superimposed onto her, when looking up into the lambs eyes.

immediately after she meets sunghoon, still covered in the lamb’s blood, and something about him draws her in, his eyes. now, since that interaction, she’s been trying to strip the purity from him and keep it all for herself. sound familiar? she’s once again doing the one thing that’s been ingrained in her from the very beginning—following her father’s orders and “teachings.” everytime it happens, sunghoon cries and she compares it to holy water and metaphorically tries to “bathe” in it, hence why she keeps doing what she does to him again and again.

but!!!!!!! but, sunghoon is different, he’s no ordinary lamb!!!! despite what she thinks. she says herself, “Pretty, white, and docile. You were so nervous when I first saw you—sometimes you still are. … When you shook my hand I knew I could do anything to you because you’d let me.” yet time after time in each of their interactions he challenges this theory, this notion of hers. they start off slow and as their relationship grows, so does the challenges. leaning his head against her on the couch, holding her head in place, until finally pinning her below him. she challenges him, he challenges her. and it’s perfect because it’s just the balance that they both desperately crave, it’s exactly why they can’t stay away from each other no matter what. why they both start to bloom when around each other. it’s truly lovely and beautiful!!!!

the lamb is majority seen as purity and innocence, hope, and renewal. but, there another thing it’s symbolized with that people always seem to forget—redemption. and redemption being a large theme in this story in a way, it just makes it hit soooo much harder omg!!! and also, depending on which type of lamb you encounter, not all are the poster for friendliness and being docile. take bottle lambs or hand-reared ram lambs, they’re the most aggressive out of the bunch with no fear of being aggressive towards humans nor their shepherds. being a lamb is not completely as it seems!!

sorry i got like really into the symbolism lmao😭😭 let’s just say i’m passionate!! 🤓☝️ (and i could also very possibly be wrong LMAOXNDNDN)

“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.” — HELPFNDNDN i’m gonna start saying this

going back briefly to my blue curtaining, but like this scene is the perfect example of it!! like look at how they literally bloom in each other’s presence!!!!! she legit even laughs for the first time in the whole entire story!!! she’s been in a way using him to try and purify herself, take that innocence that he has and superimpose it into herself while he’s been taking her “rot” away in the form of desire. it’s like yin and yang, they’re creating the perfect balance with each other!!!! they’re like the flower and the bee, both vastly different but one cannot exist without the other and without both of their input honey couldn’t exist.

He looks at you like you’re the reason the sun rises and falls. — stop omg i literally cannot handle this

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. — !!!!!!

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. — i love this so much

“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. — oh noooo!! i guess you’ll just have to stay!!!!

“Should I kill them?” Your question is brazen, body and voice eerily still in your seriousness. — she’s so me, the amount of times i say this (especially to the wrong crowd of people)…😭😭

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. — AND BOOM HE’S FULLY OVER THE LINE!!!!! i love little callbacks like this stop IM SO FUCKING HAPPY!!!!!!!

back to blue curtaining but can we also talk about the contrast in the two scenes where she initiates non-sexual touch??? like in the first scene they’re both stagnant, standing. he’s extremely nervous and she doesn’t have the purest of intentions, neither of them really WANT to be touching the other. now this scene, they’re both radiating with happiness and running. all smiles and freedom, running through the break of sunlight through the storm. like UGHHHHH!!!/!/!/!/!!!!:&,&!!! i love this fic so so much you actually don’t understand

“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.” — AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“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.” — AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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. — WHAT DID I SAY? WHAT DID I FUCKING SAYYYYYYYY!!!!! besides she’s so me because she truly is omg

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. — EEEEEEEE

i literally have to refrain from running and leaping around my house like this is so SERIOUS for me it not even funny😭😭

“That sounds nice,” he smiles, “our first real date! I think there’s a cafe near that book store too. Do you like coffee?” — oh god😭😭 he’s so cute

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. — this is hilarious😭😭 i love that it’s basically unspoken that they’re together even if it shocks her!! soon he’s gonna be sliding a ring on her finger and calling her his wife and she’s gonna be like ???? well, yes!

“Hm. I can see that too,” he hums as he pulls you closer into his side. — also!!! she doesn’t fight against herself anymore and pulls away!!!!!!! eeeeeeee!!!~~~~

“...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. — sobs

But you, you’re frozen staring at the messy man who talks of your greatest hate. Your hands tremble on the table. — he just HADDDD to ruin this beautiful moment… DIE OF ALCOHOL POISONING‼️‼️

i love a good plot device hehe!! gives sunghoon insight into why she hasn’t really talked about herself outside of the things and hobbies she actively enjoys!! now they’ll have to talk about what that crazy ass man meant, and she’ll have to tell him why her and her parents think she’s the antichrist, and boom they grow closer and he shows her that she’s in fact not the antichrist and boom love story!!!! i can see it in my mind’s eye, the mind of a mastermind!!!

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’s actually the sweetest ever

“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.” — I JUST STARTED SCREAMING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS

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. — sighs… i fucking hate angry men and reminders of them

“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?” — this just hit extremely close to home… like.. hole through my house rn actually and i’m singed by it…

“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.” — :((( i want that man fucking dead.

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. — this omg… this is why i never could be religious like the rest of my family no matter how hard i tried to bend and break and mold myself for it. this is what was always in the back of my head. like i envy the people who can follow faith blindly, call it devotion and claim to see the light of god, but i just can’t. and i won’t.

You laugh nervously, trying to tug your hands away from his grip that doesn’t let up. — !!!! also again she’s so me, i do the exact same thing when someone is trying to comfort me and suddenly i’m extremely uncomfortable😭😭

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. — this. this is the purest of love omg.

You both sit criss cross at the wooden dock by the lake, simply enjoying the scenery and all it has to offer. — EEEEEEE SHE TOOK HIM TO THE LAKEEEEE

“Do it. Don’t think of it as hurting me, but still do it deep enough to leave a scar.” — why am i getting emotional

THE MATCHING SCARS ACTUALLY STOP OMG.

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.” — i am actually sobbing rn.

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. — !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is also such a beautiful paragraph omg

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. — OH MY GODDDDDDDDDD!!!!!!!!!!

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. — bury me with this paragraph please. put it on my tombstone.

So you said yes without your words: took his scarred hand in yours and nodded. — AAAAAAAAAA

“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-?” — GIRL MOVE.

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. — hell yeah assert dominance 🔥🔥🔥

“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. — THIS IS SO CUTEEE

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. — OH MY GODDDDD LETS FUCKING GOOO

So, for the first time, he takes you back to his apartment. — oh my god WAIT!! IM NOT READY OMG OMG OMG

“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. — ATTIC ANGEL REFERENCE!!! ATTIC ANGEL REFERENCE!!!!!!!! could you imagine if like these two universes were connected and that’s actually jake from attic angel before it all happened😭

“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. — omg she’s gonna spend the night

pause because now i’m thinking of the possibility of the universes being connected😭 like at the beginning, “Sunghoon, lost in his own world, fails to realize that his best friend—Jake—battles something similar internally.” i know they’re just most likely little references but it’s fun to think about!!!

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. — inject it.

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.  — THIS FUCKING PARAGRAPH OH MY GOD. pure beauty i love it so much. add this to my tombstone and bury me with it too.

Rattled with concealed embarrassment you remove his shirt and toss it somewhere to the floor, and he does the same. — oh my god oh my god it’s happening

Foreheads now pressed together with lips ghosting over the others, you tell him, “I hate you.” — AAAAAAA OH MY FUCKING GODDDDD!!!! YHE LOVE CONFESSION

oh my god i feel like a werewolf howling at the fucking moon right now

“You gotta move, Hoon. Feels like you’re splitting me open.” — the nickname. what if we all died right now.

“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. — EEEEEEEE

“I love you too,” he whispers back. — I JUST SCREAMED SO FUCKING LOUD AND THREW MY PHONE. OH MY FUCKING GOD. OH MY FUCKINFGH GOD. stop because i gotta take a lap around my house what the fuck. OH MY GODDDD.

OH MY FUCKING GOD. PLEASEE. OH MY GOD.

“I know, baby.” he mumbles before capturing your wobbling lips into a searing kiss. — AAAAAAHHHEEDHAHAHAHAHABAAAJAKXLLKKKKKKKKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

“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.” — i crave this.

i would also like to point out that this is the only time he isn’t crying 🤓☝️☝️ and that’s because she is!!! AAAAA I FUCKING LOVE THIS STORY SO MUCH. WHAT THE FUCK.

“I’m good,” you sob through your whimpers, “I’m yours.” — sniffing this entire scene like 67 lines of cocaine.

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. — FUCKKK.

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. — FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU.

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. — NOOOOO. I WANT THEM BOTH TO DIE.

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-” — I JUST GASPED SO LOUD WHAT THE FUCK. i’m so scared

And then there’s a loud noise. A booming bang, followed by unsteady feet falling back and the ground rumbling with a thud. — AAAAAA OH MY FUCKING GOD.

i am literally on the edge of my seat screaming every five seconds. each paragraph is hell to read because i’m so terrified of what’s going to happen next.

You turn your head and Sunghoon stands there with the shotgun in hand, open mouthed and wide eyed. — OH MY GOD. CHEKHOV’S GUN BITCH BOOM‼️‼️‼️‼️ omg i can’t believe i didn’t put it together sooner i feel like an idiot.. them talking about the shotgun in the house and all the times she asked if he would kill for her. I AM SO FUCKING UPPPPPP!!!!! THE FUCKING FORESHADOWING OH MY GOD

“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. — my fucking baby… he didn’t hesitate either, didn’t even think just acted

“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. — HELL FUCKING YEAHHHH🔥🔥🔥 this reminds me of the scene in maxxxine omg.. “I WILL NOT ACCEPT A LIFE I DO NOT DESERVE!!!!”

“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. — KILL THAT BITCH ANYWAY‼️‼️‼️

NOOOOO I WANT HIM DEADDDD. trust he will never know peace if she let him survive because i have inserted myself into the universe. and i’m on the fucking prowl. and that fucking mother, don’t think you’re safe either. you want this wretched fool so bad? you can join him in the grave where you both belong.

“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.” — AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OMG

“Harvest all of my purity, farmer’s daughter.” — TATTOO THIS ALONG MY FUCKING RIBCAGE.

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. — this whole thing is so fucking beautiful

just saw the divider for the end of the fic. NOOOOOOO.

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. — LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO‼️‼️‼️

You take his scarred hand in yours and you laugh like he did, pure and true, “I do.” — what a beautiful fucking ending oh my god. #unlearnshame INDEEDDDDDD!!!!

where do i even begin with this fic that i haven’t already gushed about for who knows how long? el, this was absolutely beautiful. completely stunning and astonishing in ways that i can’t even begin to TRY and explain. i don’t think i’ve ever been this emotional invested—this invested in general—in a fic EVER. but it was so easy to slip into the world you created that it felt like breathing. their whims were mine and time flew by as did the words.

i fucking loved this so much, and i hold it tightly and dearly to my chest. i wasn’t kidding when i said that the mc was so me, because she was. it was scary and like looking in some distorted mirror. for that, i really want to thank you. thank you in general for writing this. it may seem a little silly since it’s just fanfic, but you truly don’t know how much this story of yours means to me. if i could somehow forget it all and have the opportunity to read it again, i wouldn’t even hesitate. sorry yvie, you’ve been pushed down to number two!!😭

and the writing and symbolism… oh my god. i’ve already talked about it and glazed you enough, so i’ll try to keep it simple this time. but, this truly gorgeous, and i adore your writing style. every word chosen, every sentence it made, every paragraph it created seemed perfectly crafted. you can physically feel the anger she was harboring inside of her simply from the words you chose to use, and that is so powerful. i’m definitely gonna take a page out of your playbook for sure!!!

immediately this is going into my favorites!! like you don’t understand how desperately i need this to be a published work so i can have it decorate my shelves and collect every single cover and version of it there is. like it’s truly up there will all of my all time favorite books ever, i fucking LOVED this. and it pains me so deeply that it took me so long to witness greatness.. trust the next work you drop i will be front row and center with my nose pressed to the stage ready for the show!! like if you weren’t thinking of being an author and publishing a book one day, PLEASE reconsider!!! the people (me) will be so lost and worse without your works, and i really sincerely mean that!!!!

this was fucking amazing, someone give you all of the awards ever. like i’m not even joking. this review took two whole minutes to paste from my notes😭

harvest of purity — sunghoon [ 박성훈 ]

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

[visionsofyouandme]

The Buyer

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: Joel sells an item on Facebook Marketplace, and meets you in the process.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2.6k

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜/𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚜:  No Outbreak!Joel Miller x F!Reader. Meet cute. Fluff. No use of y/n. Reader has no physical descriptions but is mentioned to be shorter than Joel. Age gap (I imagine reader is late 20s-early 30s, Joel is late 40s-early 50s). Sarah and Tommy mentioned/appear. Shy!Joel. Thirsty!Reader (same). Happy and hopeful ending (cause that’s what JM deserves). NOT proofread (sorry!).

𝙰/𝙽: This wouldn't have come about if a good friend hadn't recommended this lil plot to me. It's so sweet and helped mend my heart a little after episode 2. Hope you enjoy and happy reading! <3

“I got a buyer.” 

Tommy looked up from his sandwich, mid-chew.

“Okay?”

“Granddad’s old clock. Somebody wants it.” 

Joel said, eyebrows furrowed as he typed out a response, setting up a time for the exchange. 

“You got some kind of crotchety collector coming to haggle you?” Tommy questioned. 

How about tomorrow at 1 I can send you the address

Perfect! Yeah, I can do that :) 

…

Do you want cashapp or venmo?

“What the hell is a venmo?” Joel questioned, his face stern and serious. Tommy chuckled, taking a sip of his soda.

“It’s like cashapp, it’s another money transfer service.”

Can we do cash? I don’t have the vemno

Sure! I’ll see you tomorrow at 1 with cash in hand. Thanks, Joel!

Joel set down his phone, and Tommy looked at Joel, then glanced at his phone, noticing his initial question going unanswered. He raised his eyebrows as Joel dug into his sandwich again. 

“Is she pretty?”

“What makes you say that?” Joel questioned, mouth full of sandwich. The brothers were far beyond propriety, especially in the middle of a workday, starving to death. 

“Well, it’s not an old guy if they ask for venmo. And, you have that look about you when you see someone pretty. Hard to not notice, brother.”

Joel’s eyes flickered to his phone, and Tommy knew he caught him. Joel would never admit it, of course, but Tommy knew his brother. 

“Well, I hope the sale goes well.” Tommy mused, grabbing his mini bag of chips and opening them up as Joel still kept his gaze on the phone, like he was waiting for another response.

Maybe he was. He’d never admit to it, though.

You pulled up to Joel Miller’s residence, glancing at your GPS to confirm it was the right location. Sure enough, it was, and the house was nice and modest with a clean cut lawn and an old truck in the driveway. 

You pulled beside the curb and got out, squinting in the sunlight despite your sunglasses. You heard a door shut, and saw a figure emerge from the open garage. You waved, and he held up a hand back in greeting.

“Afternoon, sir!” You called, walking up the driveway. “Joel, right?”

He confirmed his identity, questioning you warily and you grinned. When you came to the threshold of the garage, you took off your sunglasses and perched them on your head.

“The one and only. Good to meet you, Joel.” you said, and damn, the picture on Facebook did him no justice. Granted, it was a long shot of him and a young woman at the beach, not giving much detail. But, you found his face and body appealing. 

Really, really appealing.

“Yeah, you too.” he said. You looked to the side, seeing the clock standing not too far away. Your eyes lit up, and you looked at Joel,

“May I?” you questioned. Joel nodded, and you walked further into the garage, looking over the large grandfather clock in all of it’s glory. It was beautiful- excellent craftsmanship, and everything looked somewhat intact. Just needed some fine tuning to get it working again.

“It’s beautiful. I have the money, but do you have change?” you questioned, pulling open the case’s glass door and looking inside. Truly a testament of art and science, and you wondered how old it could be. Judging by style alone, it could be anywhere from 75 to 100 years old. You’d have to take a closer look to be sure.

“Yeah, I do.” Joel said, and you looked over at him and saw him looking out of the garage.

“That your car?” he questioned, nodding to it, his arms crossed. You nodded, standing straight and carefully closing the glass door.

“Sure is.”

“You ain’t gettin’ that clock in that tiny thing.” he said, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’ll manage. It’s a smooth ride, perfect for keeping the inside intact.” You said, and he looked over at you with a firm expression, lips pursed. If you didn’t know any better, you thought he was mad at you.

“It’s too big.” he said, and you sighed exasperatingly, turning and walking to his side to look at your little sedan. 

“It’s all I’ve got. I’ve got to make do, can’t pass up an oppurtunity like this.” you said, rubbing your forehead in thought. It really was a grand clock, and you weren’t exactly sure how big it was, but you were slowly realizing there was no way it was going to fit in your car. 

Shit.

Joel was silent next to you, and you could pretty much hear the gears working in his head. You glanced at him, your eyes flashing down to his wrist where you saw a black watch on his wrist. It was old, and upon looking at it for a few seconds, you noticed it wasn’t ticking and had a slight crack in the glass. You looked forward, and eyed his truck in the driveway. You opened your mouth to speak, forming the proposal in your mind in a second, until he spoke,

“I can take it to your place. It’s gonna be too heavy to lift on your own, anyway.” he said evenly, and you looked up at him, raising your eyebrows. 

“You sure?” you questioned, and your eyes moved down to the watch again.

“I can fix that watch for you for repayment.” You added, and he looked down at his wristwatch, then at you with guarded brown eyes. 

“You fixin’ clocks or somethin’?” 

“Yeah, I’m a horologist.”

Joel looked at you, a bit of surprise in his eyes, his eyebrows shooting up. You shook your head,

“You know, a clockmaker. Fixer. Whatever- Yes, I do.” you said, waving your hand. He regarded you for a moment, and then turned to you with his arms still crossed. Deinitely guarded, definitely wary of you.

“You’d do that?”

“For free, sure. If you help me get this bad boy in my apartment I’ll do it for your trouble.” You offered, and looked at him with a smile. You saw something in his eyes soften a bit, his shoulders droop a bit, his lips loosen-

Whoops. Okay, don’t linger too long on that, you thought to yourself. 

“It ain’t trouble,” he said, his voice more quiet, soft, intimate. “But, it’s a deal.” 

He stuck out his hand, and you took it without hesitation, giving his hand a firm shake. It was warm, calloused and rough, a working man’s hands. Strong. Capable. Attractive.

Something about an older man with strong hands and disposition just got your blood pumping.

Also, your attention to detail noticed no wedding ring.

Interesting.

Dropping his hand, you spoke, “You can come by Friday, if you want-”

“How about today? I’m already off work for the day.” he questioned, and you shrugged almost immediately.

“Sure. Don’t see why not.” You said grinning. Joel gave a nod, and then looked at the clock hesitantly. Like he was second guessing the sale.

“Hey,” you said, grabbing his attention. “It’s going to good hands. Promise.” 

“It was my granddad’s. His dad’s before him.” he said, and you nodded. Most clocks like this were family heirlooms, and you were surprised at this reveal that he was selling it.

“You sure you wanna sell it?” you questioned, a bit disheartened at not being able to buy it, but if it meant more to Joel than just a clock, you’d easily give it up. Joel nodded, his eyes flickering to it once more before walking to his work desk and began pulling out ratchet straps to secure the clock in his truck. 

It really was a two person job, but this was expected. Still, you and Joel got it in and secured to the truck bed, and Joel swung himself over the edge of the truck, landing on his feet.

Yeah, that was hot.

You nodded, clapping your hands together,

“I’ll send you the address, or you can follow me.”

“I’ll follow you.” 

You nodded, bidding him a short goodbye before walking to your car, no longer hiding your grin as you turned on the ignition.

Joel pulled up to the house, relieved it was only in the next neighborhood from his, about 10 minutes away. He pulled in backwards into your driveway, facing the garage. He climbed out just as the garage door opened, and he saw quite a scene before him. It looked similiar to his own garage and workshop- and he knew what you would say if he questioned it’s organization. 

“There’s a method to the madness,” he would tell people. He was sure you’d say the same. 

You walked over and took off your sunglasses, Joel watching you as you walked over to your main workbench and set them down. He noticed coffee mugs, plenty of tools and small pieces of metal of various shapes and sized. There was a space in the middle of the garage where he assumed the clock would go. Turning to him and smiling brightly, he looked down and then climbed onto the bed of the truck, undoing the straps. He could feel your gaze on him, and he was thankful the Austin heat already had him flushed. 

He wasn’t used to the attention of a woman, much less someone as pretty and personable as you. He knew he must be delusional, thinking he noticed your lingering looks around and at him. But, he noticed you look back in your rearview mirror several times on the way over, making sure he was right behind you.

Since you both experienced it together, getting it off was easier than putting it on. You slowly set it upright, and Joel took off the blanket surrounding it to keep the glass from breaking. You took a step back, and grinned.

“It’s perfect.”

“What are you gonna do with it?” he questioned, hoping you weren’t going to repaint it into a beige or white mess, stripping it of it’s uniqueness. He was unsure, even still, of if he wanted to do this or not. But, he looked at your face and saw a softness to it, admiring like it was something precious, which it was. To Joel, anyway.

“Fix it up, get it ticking again. Shine up the wood, get rid of the dust, maybe replaced the glass with something like stained glass.” you mused, your hands on your hips that he realized you were mirroring from him. He cleared his throat, nodding and stood straight. He looked down at his own watch, the one Sarah got for him when he turned 36. It had seen so much love and attention, and he still wore it despite the crack from wear and the absence of the ticking. 

Another sentimental piece. But, Joel would never, ever part with this one. 

You finally broke from your stare at the clock and walked to your car, retrieving your bag and walked back to Joel’s side, handing the wad of cash over. He looked down at it, and hesitated, then shook his head.

“Keep it. Fixing this will be more than enough payment.” he said, looking down at the watch on his wrist. He looked at you, surprised to find you so close. He could see the rise and fall of your chest, the sunlight reflecting in your eyes, the slight persperation on your temples. All of it just echoing how much of a beautiful young woman you were. 

Sarah would tease him about staring, and wiggle her eyebrows at him. He could hear her encouraging words in his ear, “Don’t just stand there, say something!”

“Of course. I can have it done by next week. Gotta measure the glass out, get it ordered, find a battery that I’m sure I have, do some other lowkey maintenance…” you said, rambling on and Joel just watched, a small smile forming on his face. 

It had been a minute since he’s been in the presence of someone like you. Someone kind, open, giving. Pretty. Effortless. Helpful. 

He’d only known you for an hour and he could go on.

Maybe he should just take the jump. Worst you could say is no.

“I’ll take you out to dinner as a “thank you,”” he said, and he could see the surprise bloom on your face, eyebrows raising and lips parted. 

“I… Joel, I’m fixing it as a payment for you-”

“And I’ll say thank you. Over dinner.” he said, and he suddenly felt his stomach drop at your lack of response. It was like you were a deer in the headlights, taken completely by surprise. 

Maybe this was a mistake. He should have just taken the money, forget about the watch-

“Okay.” you said, and he was ripped from his thoughts like a bandaid. All in one swift motion, relief following.

“I’ll, uh, pick you up. There’s a good Mexican place in town. Great taquitos.” he said, and you nodded, glancing around as if considering the offer. 

“Sure. But I don’t think I wanna wait until next week. How about Saturday?”

“Deal.” Joel said, and you looked at him with an amused expression.

“Wanna shake on it?” you teased, and Joel rolled his eyes. 

“Ha, ha. Saturday, at 6.” he said, and you nodded. He began to walk away, and you called out to him.

“The watch.” you said, and he paused, looking down and then walked back to you. He slowly undid the leather strap, and waited a moment before handing it to you. Your fingers brushed, and you held it with such care with both hands. His hand lingered over yours, then let it drop. 

“I’ll take good care of it, Joel. Promise.” you said, smiling lightly. He nodded, lifting his eyes to meet yours. He felt something within himself relax, come together to release some tension, like a rubberband that had been released from it’s stretch. 

“Thank you.” he said quietly. You nodded, and you both stood in your garage, holding each other’s gaze until Joel looked away, smiling sheepishly. 

“Saturday. 6.”

“You’re picking me up.” you stated. He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’ll see you then.” he said, beginning to back up. You were about to say somethign when his back hit his truck, and he winced. You stifled a giggle, and bit your lower lip.

“I’ll see you then, Joel.” you replied, and turned, walking to your workbench and sat down, laying out Joel’s watch tenderly, turning on the lamp next to you.

He felt giddy, and quickly climbed into his truck and put a hand on the steering wheel, exhaling sharply through his nose. 

That ghost of a smile lingered on his face, the hope of Saturday carrying him all the way home.

Thank you for reading! Drop a like, comment, or reblog. Love hearing from you guys <33 Divider by @/saradika-graphics !

[chamisulgrape]

watch me, watch me party on you 𖤐 [p.sh] pt.1

You and Sunghoon, the faces of two rival fashion brands, can’t stay apart after one night shared in the midst of New York Fashion Week.

☆ part one of party 4 u | part two [soon]

☆ pairing → sunghoon x afab reader

☆ word count → 6.8k

☆ tags → fashion industry setting, model au, nyfw, rivalry, lots of yearning and lust!, models falling in love during nyfw, confessions

☆ smut tags → porn with plot, barebacking (unprotected sex), blowjobs and foreplay, lots of spit/biting, squirting, use of petnames aka baby/darling, they're nasty and in love, minor dirty talk/degradation

☆ warnings → implied minor and subtle side relationship between sunoo and riki, who are the fashion designers in this au, please do not read if that upsets you in any way. you are not forced to read this in any way! hate comments and anything of the sort will be deleted and you will be blocked. not proofread

☆ a/n → hihi! this is a rewrite/revamp of another fic i have written previously on ao3, so if this seems familiar yes it is me! this is also my first time writing on tumblr since 2017-2018 when i wrote for bts, still learning my way around so pls be nice to me :3

minors pls dni.

♪ hope you walk in the party, cause i threw this party just for you.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

"Are you nervous?"

You raise your gaze from the tape on the floor with your name on it, to meet Sunoo's calculating eyes. You swallow, and shake your head. "No."

You've trained your whole life for this opportunity. This is the moment they've been working towards for years. Now that it's in their hands, you're not going to ruin it. You're confident in your abilities, definitely, but what you're most confident in is making Sunoo and Riki proud.

"Good," Sunoo says, curt. He nods his head, looking over your suit—a careful and beautiful handcrafted piece, a piece in their latest and most criticized collection that is meant to exceed the norms of gender and all that alike—before calling Riki over. "You're our star. So go out there and make us proud."

Riki rushes over in seconds to peer over Sunoo's shoulder. "Everything good?"

Sunoo nods, brushing your suit off before disappearing to look after the other models.

Riki gives you a once-over just as Sunoo did, before running off and returning with a palette and a small makeup brush. You let him apply a sticky substance over your matte lips, and part them carefully when you're told not to smack. Riki uses his thumb to dab the corner of your lips and smiles. "You're perfect."

"Of course," you huff. "It's your guys' production. I wouldn't expect anything less."

Riki laughs and shakes his head. "That's what we like to hear. Don't tell Sunoo that, though. We don't want his ego skyrocketing any higher than it already has."

A staff member rushes up to them and gives the two of you a thumbs up. "Up in two."

Riki lets out a nervous breath. "You got this. Remember, loose—"

"—but not too loose." You finish. Riki reaches out to squeeze your hand once.

"Don't forget the pockets. And unclench." Riki frets over you some more before running off to find Sunoo.

The nerves don't hit you until there's less than a minute left. You're nervous, as anyone would be, but you're more excited. You want to be out there, showing that this is their brand. This is their debut. This is it.

It's Fashion week, it's New York, and you're going to make XO proud.

You stand tall and straighten your posture when you hear the music play, remembering what Riki said about unclenching and you relax your jaw.

"Go."

You do what you know best: you walk.

It's exhilarating; you live for it.

All eyes are on you—assessing and scanning over your outfit—like they're looking right through you. You can hear the questions already: What is XO? What do they stand for? What do you represent? You answer in the only way you know how.

You prove it by walking.

Like Sunoo said, you're their star. You're the face of XO and the person they specifically chose and nurtured and worked alongside for years, from the bottom of their brand up. You represent XO, and more importantly, you represent Sunoo and RIki.

There were no other candidates or options. From the very beginnings of XO, made in Sunoo and Riki's small studio, you've been there with them. They’ve come so far, to be holding a show amongst famous and respectable brands, and you are more than appreciative to be here with them. There’s nowhere you’d rather be than with the two people you cherish the most, doing what you love the most.

Towards the end of your walk, you spot him.

Sunghoon Park, face of PARADOXXX, sitting in the very front row.

You're not surprised that Sunghoon is here, no, you're more surprised that Sunghoon is looking right at you. Sunghoon isn't trying to look through you, nor is he holding his phone out to record like others are doing. Instead, Sunghoon's gaze is focused solely on you, and you feel as if Sunghoon is capturing the moment with his eyes instead.

Your heart almost stops when you meet Sunghoon's eyes. You look forward, trying not to let your gaze stray, but you can't help the way you keep taking subtle glances back towards Sunghoon. Your eyes are attracted to him, and you can't bring yourself to look away for too long. When your eyes meet for the third time, Sunghoon raises a brow, tilting his head slightly. You can feel your ears get hot, and you curse yourself for being distracted by him, but you can't help it.

Although there are over a hundred eyes on you, you can't feel as though Sunghoon is the only one really looking.

The last time your eyes meet as you near the end of your walk, Sunghoon winks. You make it your mission not to collapse until you get backstage.

"You're perfect! Perfect." Riki pulls you into a hug as soon as you make the turn backstage and then takes your hand to lead you further back and into a makeup chair. Sunoo comes shortly after, resting his hands on your shoulders and squeezing them lightly.

"Amazing, as always." Sunoo says, proud, before turning to Riki. "Retouch his lips."

Riki nods and Sunoo leaves with a kiss on Riki's cheek.

Later, as you watch through the TV to monitor the rest of the show, you notice that Sunghoon doesn't look at the other models the same way he looked at you. Sunghoon doesn't trap them with the same gaze he did you, nor does he look at any of the following models with the same eyes he looked at you with.

You can't get Sunghoon's eyes out of your mind, or the way he looked at you with want. Not a want of lust or greed or sin, but curiosity. A need to know.

Sunoo and Riki host XO's after party at DUMBO house that same night.

You're dressed in another XO outfit, one that Sunoo and Riki designed specifically for this event. They ditch the suit for a loose open blouse and a flowy pair of dress pants, and Riki chooses to do your makeup himself.

They take loads of pictures and videos for XO's social media accounts, and another ton of photos at the DUMBO House photo station before going off to meet the crowd of celebrities and contributors of the show.

"Have fun," Sunoo says, and proceeds to push a glass of champagne into your hands. "You deserve it."

You laugh, before your face falls. "Why does this sound like you're about to run off again?"

Sunoo shares a look with Riki before taking ahold of his hand. "Because we are. Have fun! Mingle!"

Your sounds of protest get lost on your tongue as Sunoo drags Riki away. You sigh, cradling your glass of champagne against your chest before going off on your own as well. You're stopped by various people asking for pictures or to congratulate you on the show today. You spend a few minutes talking to other models of the show and even Jang Wonyoung of IVE, before making your way towards the terrace.

The view from the terrace is breathtaking. You can see the river and the skyline from here, and you opt for setting down your glass to pull out your phone and snap a view pictures of the bridge and night sky. You're going through the photos you took when you're interrupted by someone sidling up next to you.

"Nice view."

You turn to see Sunghoon, in the flesh.

You startle, taken aback by their close proximity. Sunghoon tilts his head again, tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip, and you can't seem to look elsewhere. Unlike earlier during the show, you don't have to force yourself to look away now.

"Yeah, nice." You say, clearing your throat when your voice comes out hoarse.

Sunghoon takes a moment to sip from his own glass of dark liquor before speaking again. "You guys did great today. As always."

Your cheeks warm, and you look away from Sunghoon to down the rest of your champagne.

"Are you coming to our show tomorrow?" Sunghoon asks, and you turn to meet his gaze again. Sunghoon's hand has somehow gravitated towards you, now resting on your lower back.

"And if I don't?" You reply, fingers tightening around your empty glass when Sunghoon's fingers trace the open back of your blouse.

You know you'll be there, there's no way Sunoo and RIki are letting you miss out on a PARADOXXX show. But that's the thing about the game that you two are playing: you're the face of XO and Sunghoon is the face of PARADOXXX, two rival brands.

At the end of the day, the public knows that behind the rivalry and competition they like to fuel, Sunoo, Riki, Heeseung, Jake, and Jay are as close as best friends can be. They've been friends since grade school, and shared the same dream and ideas of opening their own brand with each other. The competition is fun for them, and they use each other as a way to keep their motivation and creative juices running.

(Also because they're all competitive bastards. You think that somehow they get off on winning.)

Still, you want to indulge the game you and Sunghoon seem to be playing by yourselves.

"I'd be disappointed," Sunghoon smiles softly, his hand falling from your back to rest on your waist. "I'd have loved for you to be there."

Your lips part at the sight of Sunghoon's smile. You knew that Sunghoon was pretty, handsome, and everything alike. Hell, you've known since high school, but Sunghoon has only gotten more attractive since, and you crave to know just how beautiful he is on the inside as well.

"Don't be too disappointed, Sunoo and Riki have already planned my outfit for tomorrow. You'll see me there." You grin, and you have to look away once Sunghoon smirks back. Damn you, for always being weak for pretty boys.

"Good," Sunghoon whispers.

"Good." You echo in reply.

They take a moment to bask in the scenery and view and each other, before Sunghoon breaks the silence again.

"Are we done with the small talk?"

Sunghoon squeezes your hand, and you wonder how you missed the fact that Sunghoon started holding your hand in the first place.

"What do you mean?" You tilt your head, feigning nonchalance. "We've only spoken a few words."

"I think a few words is enough, don't you think?"

"What do you really think?" You shoot back, and you know you're dangerously toeing the line between what you should be allowed to do, but it's exhilarating; the same way you feel when you're on the runway, you feel the longer you're in Sunghoon's presence.

"I think, Sunghoon starts, before using his grip on your hand to tug you closer until your chests are almost touching. He looks down at you, "That you should get to know me better."

"And you? Don't you want to know me better as well?" You ask, your glass of champange long forgotten as you hook a finger in one of Sunghoon's belt loops.

"I do, but I rather it be in the privacy of my hotel room." Sunghoon still has that wide, sharp grin on his face, and you find that you want to kiss it off of him, feeling the sharp edges of his fangs against your tongue.

Instead, you snort. "Wouldn't that be a headline? I can see it now. Us, faces of rival brands XO and PARADOXXX, seen eloping and spending a night together."

The smile you receive in return is blinding; melting and dripping warmth and love, and your heart threatens to pound out of your chest and into Sunghoon's hands. "Shouldn't we give them something new to write about?"

"Why should we?" You inch closer. You can almost feel Sunghoon's breath on your lips.

"I want you, and you want me. It's that simple." Sunghoon leans in, the tip of his nose barely grazing your own.

You reel back an inch, reveling in the way Sunghoon chases after you with a soft sigh. "Who said I want you?"

Sunghoon snorts this time, shaking his head lightly. "You've never been that subtle."

"And what about the others? I don't think they'll appreciate us leaving early, nonetheless being seen entering a hotel together."

"I don't think they'll mind that much, darling."

It's all you need to close the distance between you two, stealing the last syllable of Sunghoon's reply right off his lips in a chaste kiss.

The drive to Sunghoon's hotel is silent, and it takes everything in you to not jump Sunghoon right there in the back of the car.

You bite your tongue to hold back the small whimpers that threaten to come out as Sunghoon keeps his hand steady on your thigh, massaging the flesh there every so often and teasing over your crotch. Your eyes almost well up in frustration, and you have to dig your fingernails into your palm to keep you sane.

It feels like hours before you arrive at Sunghoon's hotel, coincidentally being your hotel as well.

"We don't have to take this to your room, mine is here too." You say once you're both in the elevator.

Sunghoon gives him a look of amusement. "Would you rather I do the walk of shame tomorrow morning? I have no shame in doing so."

You scoff, cheeks heating. "Shut up, you have. show tomorrow, it's fine. We'll do this in your room."

"You sound as if this is a job." Sunghoon crosses the elevator to take your hands into his, tugging him flush against his chest. "Am I not entertaining you?"

“You—” you huff. “You’re plenty entertaining. Entertaining and insufferable.”

Sunghoon hums, before surging forward to press his lips to yours. He bites down on your bottom lip softly before pulling away, laughing softly at the whimper you let out. “You don’t sound like you hate it.”

“I don’t.” You push Sunghoon off of you when the elevator dings, announcing their arrival to Sunghoon’s floor.

Sunghoon trails after you, catching up to you to wrap an arm loosely around your waist and steering them down the floor and in the direction of his room. When you arrive to his room, he pulls out his keycard to unlock the door. “Last chance to back out. Take one step in here and I’m not letting you go.”

You snort, pushing past him to enter the room yourself. “You’re so insufferable. Hurry up and give me what I came here for.”

“You’re so mean, darling. Here I am trying to sweep you off your feet, and you’re telling me you only want me for sex?” You hears Sunghoon whine as the door closes behind them. “Truly so mean.”

“Sunghoon. Come here and kiss me before I walk right back out that door.” You say, already having made yourself comfortable on the edge of Sunghoon’s bed.

Sunghoon throws his head back with a laugh, before shrugging off his blazer and throwing it elsewhere. He makes his way towards you stopping once he’s kneeling in between your legs, hands running up your thighs before stopping at your waist. “Didn’t know you were this impatient.”

“And I didn’t know you were this annoying.” You huff, frustrated, before grabbing onto Sunghoon’s blouse and crashing your lips together.

It’s more tongue and teeth than lips, but Sunghoon takes it in stride, matching your pace. Sunghoon’s hands stay on your hips, and you whine into the kiss in frustration.

“Sunghoon, when are you going to touch me?” You whine, leaning in to kiss Sunghoon again while reaching down to grab onto one of Sunghoon’s hands. You pout when Sunghoon pulls back, hands leaving you completely.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” Sunghoon says softly, before leaning in to nose at your neck. He licks along your collarbone, leaving small kisses as he trails down further.

“Everywhere.” You deadpan, and the laugh Sunghoon lets out in response tickles your skin.

“I’m trying to romance you,” Sunghoon leaves another kiss in the middle of your chest, and for once you're thankful that the blouse Sunoo and Riki put you in is wide open. “Yet you’re complaining.”

“You can romance me another day, Sunghoon. If you don’t get your dick inside me now, I’m going to wither away. Fast.” You sigh when Sunghoon untucks your blouse, and finally presses his palm against your skin. “I’m aging, Sunghoon.”

You can feel Sunghoon smiling against your skin, which frustrates you further. Sunghoon is so slow. You are this close to losing it, when Sunghoon finally stands. “You’ll let me sweep you off your feet another day?”

You groan and roll your eyes. “Yes! I’ll let you romance me whenever you’d like! Whatever it takes to get you to—” You pull at Sunghoon’s belt loop, tugging him closer so you can fumble with Sunghoon’s zipper. “—fucking take off your pants already.”

You hear Sunghoon laugh above you, then feel Sunghoon's hand come to rest on your head, before he runs his fingers down the side of your face. Sunghoon’s touch leaves your skin burning, and you forgets all about wanting to take his pants off when Sunghoon tilts your head up by the chin to run his thumb along your bottom lip.

Sunghoon presses down on your lip softly, the touch so soft, so intimate that your breath gets caught in your throat. Sunghoon is looking down at you with eyes so soft and filled with so much care and affection that your mind fills with static.

“You’re so pretty,” Sunghoon sighs. “So pretty.”

You flush, letting out a flustered scoff. You wrap your lips around Sunghoon's thumb and suck lightly. “Can I suck you off?” You mumble around Sunghoon’s finger, and the way Sunghoon brings his thumb down to press against your tongue almost has you gagging.

“Five seconds ago you were just telling me that if I didn’t get my dick inside of you you’d die. And now you’re asking to suck me off?” Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head fondly.

“I changed my mind.” You pull your head back, making sure to keep your lips wrapped tightly around Sunghoon’s thumb, and pull off with a pop.

Sunghoon hums, wiping the spit you've left coating his finger on your cheek, and you scowl. You get a laugh in return, and immediately sit up straighter in anticipation when Sunghoon starts to unzip his slacks. Your mouth waters, saliva pooling under your tongue when Sunghoon finally pushes his pants down to his thighs. Your fingers tremble with the urge to reach out and grab onto any part of Sunghoon you can touch—his thighs, stomach, back, ass—but you restrain yourself by fisting your hands into the sheets.

Sunghoon clicks his tongue. “Baby,” Oh. You shiver, body tingling from your toes to the very top of your head at the pet name. Sunghoon reaches out to hold onto your wrists, bringing them to his thighs and exhaling through his nose when you run your hands up his skin. “Nobody said you couldn’t touch.”

You shudder in anticipation and excitement as you finally grope at Sunghoon’s legs freely, feeling the static in your mind spread to your fingertips as you run your hands anywhere you can get your hands on. Sunghoon is standing silently as he lets you touch his skin as you please, and it makes you whimper.

You swallow the saliva that keeps flooding your mouth at the thought of how good and nice Sunghoon is and how you want nothing more than to be good for him, too.

You hook your fingers under the waistband of Sunghoon’s boxers, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you pull lightly. “Please?”

You see Sunghoon swallow and tongue at his cheek, and your toes curl at the sight of Sunghoon twitching in his boxers. God, you want him so bad your body aches, craving Sunghoon’s touch everywhere; your body against his and Sunghoon’s pretty lips and tongue and—You just want so badly to be his, to belong to Sunghoon.

“Oh, baby, you don’t have to ask.” Sunghoon says softly, hand coming up, up, until his fingers are running through your hair. You can’t help the way you squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of your arousal, because nobody’s ever touched you like this before; nobody has ever touched you with so much affection and care and fondness like Sunghoon’s been doing.

You stand up and remove your fingers from where they were teasing Sunghoon’s skin to curl them around the sides of his neck instead, pulling him in for a soft kiss that says too many things at once. Sunghoon’s hands slide around your waist, fingers digging into your blouse lightly. You spin the both of you around, flipping your positions until Sunghoon is the one seated on the bed instead.

Sunghoon sucks in a breath when you disconnect your lips to drop to your knees between his thighs. You leave kisses on his thighs, biting and sucking to leave small marks you knows will be covered by Sunghoon’s outfit tomorrow. Sunghoon’s hand rests in your hair, and you preen when Sunghoon’s fingers tighten when you bite down too hard.

Impatient.

Sunghoon’s voice echoes in your mind, but you're already painfully wet and throbbing under your panties and you think if you wait any longer you’ll go absolutely insane. You waste no time pulling Sunghoon's boxers down, the sight of the gray fabric damp with a wet spot from Sunghoon’s precome shoves the last bit of sanity and patience you have out the window.

Sunghoon hisses as the cold air hits his cock and his voice breaks off into a low groan when you wrap your soft hand around the base, one hand digging crescents into Sunghoon’s thigh and the other holding his cock steady so you can lean down and lick a stripe up the underside. You moan when you get to the mushroom-top head, eyes rolling back at the musky scent of Sunghoon’s precome and sweat finally on your tongue.

You suck lightly, tongue digging into the slit, already addicted to Sunghoon’s scent and smell and taste. Your lips are slick from the drool from your mouth dribbling out the corners of your lips and down Sunghoon’s cock, and you hear Sunghoon let out a shaky breath above you. You take a glance up and are frozen in place at the sight of Sunghoon with his head thrown back and his pretty throat on display. You make a mental note to remember to taste him there later too.

Sunghoon’s head falls forward when you take him deeper into your mouth, and you're obsessed with the way Sunghoon looks when he’s getting his dick sucked—when you're the one doing it. How his brows furrow, how his lips turn pink and raw from being bitten down on, how he sounds moaning your name when you swallow around his cock.

Sunghoon releases his bottom lip, tongue peeking out to run over it as a way to soothe it. You preen again when Sunghoon finally has his eyes and gaze on you, and it makes you think back to the show earlier today, when all of Sunghoon’s focus was on you. God, the thought makes your blood run hot, and you makes it your mission to prove to Sunghoon just how much you like when Sunghoon looks at you—how much you love when Sunghoon makes you feel like you're the only person there.

“So pretty—god, you’re so perfect for me.” Sunghoon tightens his fingers in your hair and uses the grip to pull you further down onto his cock, until your nose is buried into Sunghoon’s finely trimmed hair. You try to express how much you love this—Sunghoon using you and pulling your hair and praising you—but it only comes out as a weak moan that has Sunghoon's hips bucking forward. Sunghoon curses when you gag around him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You whine and rub your thighs together to relieve some of the ache in your core, fingers tightening where they’re already digging into Sunghoon’s thigh. You pull your head up to swirl your tongue around the tip again before going down, making sure to squeeze Sunghoon's balls ever so lightly and softly as you do, and the throaty moan you get in return has you pulling off to shove your face against Sunghoon’s hip in need.

“Sunghoon—Sunghoon, please. Fuck me now, I can’t take it anymore—please.” You whimper against Sunghoon’s shirt, dampening it with your saliva. “Sunghoon, I want you. I need you so bad.”

You feel Sunghoon shake, tremble, before you're pulled up by the hair and into a rough kiss. Sunghoon tugs you forward so hard that your teeth clash against each other as Sunghoon falls back onto the bed, bringing your body with him.

You moan, needy, as you crawl over Sunghoon’s body to situate yourself on Sunghoon’s thighs. You reach between them to stroke Sunghoon’s cock and swallow down the groan he lets out at the feeling. You suck at Sunghoon’s tongue when it enters your mouth to lick along your teeth and trace your lips. You grind against Sunghoon's palm when he rips your hand away from his cock and presses his palm against your core, instead.

“Off. Take it off,” you pant against Sunghoon's lips and tug at his blouse. You pull back to trail wet kisses down Sunghoon’s neck as he pulls the fabric up, only pulling away to help Sunghoon lift the shirt over his head and diving right back in to lick along his collarbones.

You runs your hands greedily all over Sunghoon’s chest and shoulders, moaning at the feel of his skin. Sunghoon's body is hot and damp with sweat and you can’t resist sucking and tasting every part of him that you can get your mouth on.

“Baby—I have a show tomorrow.” Sunghoon breathes out, sounding just as hot and bothered as you feel. “No marks.”

You whine in response. “But you taste so good.”

“Yeah? Won’t look so good walking tomorrow like this.” Sunghoon laughs, softly, before bringing you back up to pull you in for another kiss. “You’re so cute. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me walking down the runway with your marks on display for everyone to see. Everyone knowing that you did this to me?”

“Want it so bad—want you so bad.” You say in between kisses. You nod, letting out soft exhales into Sunghoon’s mouth as Sunghoon pushes his palm harder against your core, letting you rut your clit against his hand. “Sunghoon, fuck me already.”

“You’re so—”

“—impatient, I know. Hurry, I said please.” You interrupt, and Sunghoon laughs again, the sound ringing in your ears like a symphony. You don't think you’ll ever get enough of Sunghoon. “Sunghoon, now.”

“Are you always this impatient with other people? Or am I just special?” Sunghoon teases, moving to remove your blouse and throw it somewhere across the room. You ignore the fact that Sunoo and Riki would skin you alive if they knew their precious shirt was on the floor of a five-star hotel room while you fraternize with the face of their rival.

You shiver when your chest is completely bare, nipples hardening at the feeling of cold air against your skin. Sunghoon leans down to take one into his mouth, tugging lightly with his teeth. “No—ah—I’ve never wanted anyone as badly as I want you.”

Sunghoon laps at your nipple, and you keen during a hard suck. He's running his hands all over your back, and you can’t stress enough how addicted you are to having Sunghoon’s hands on you. Sunghoon pulls off with a loud pop, instead moving to leave marks in the middle of your chest. You can feel the way you're dripping into your panties, soaking through the fabric, hips grinding down against Sunghoon's palm.

“That’s cute. You’re so cute. Just for me.”

Just when you're about to get more impatient, Sunghoon reaches down into his pants to pull out a condom. You scoff. “Were you planning this?”

Sunghoon pats your thigh with a hand, and you gets the hint to hop off of his thighs and onto the bed. You crawl further, until the back of your head hits the soft pillows. Sunghoon removes his pants fully, leaving him completely naked, and your cheeks warm at how shameless he is.

“Maybe.” Sunghoon is kneeling in front of your legs, working on getting your pants off. “Asked Jake for it before the after party.”

“Oh.” You frown down at him. “How often do you do this that he just gave it to you?”

Sunghoon smiles, all teeth, before leaning down to press a kiss on your bare knee. “Don’t be jealous, darling. I told him who it was for.”

“And how do I know that you said me? For all I know, you could’ve had it ready for anyone else.” You pout when Sunghoon laughs against your knee. “It’s not funny.”

“Baby, I don’t want anyone but you. I’ve wanted you for years.”

And oh, “Oh.” Your breath hitches at the confession.

Sunghoon hums, the vibrations tickling your inner thigh. He kisses his way up to your stomach, sucking a mark right above the waistband of your panties. Your mind is swirling, thoughts of how long you've wanted Sunghoon, and now how long he's wanted you. They could’ve been doing this much sooner.

“Hey,” Sunghoon’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “We’ll talk about this later, yeah?” You nod, licking your lips. “Eyes on me.”

You haven’t taken your eyes off of him for as long as you can remember, but you nod. God, you think you might love Sunghoon. You don’t think about it for too long, not after Sunghoon pulls off your panties in one go, adding them to the pile of collecting designer clothes on the floor.

Sunghoon exhales, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re so pretty. Fuck.”

You whine, shy. “Don’t stare.”

“Why not? You’re mine, aren’t you?” Sunghoon says, raising a brow when you release more wetness onto the sheets.

“Yeah—I’m yours,” your voice comes out shaky. “Always have been.”

“I know, baby.” Sunghoon leans down to kiss your stomach, before coming up to kiss your lips too. “I know.”

You whimper against Sunghoon's lips, choking on a moan when Sunghoon ghosts the pads of his fingers down your slit. You can feel how wet you are, the wetness making the slide easier as Sunghoon slides two fingers against your clit, moving them slowly in between open mouthed kisses.

You're barely kissing at this point, more panting into Sunghoon's mouth and Sunghoon licking along your lips, but you can’t seem to be bothered when Sunghoon is touching you like this—fingers gently massaging you, rubbing slow circles against your clit—like you're his.

“Good, fuck, Hoon—you’re so good.” You throw your head back, and Sunghoon dives in to nibble at your neck and suck lightly at your jaw. “Can you touch me now? Please?”

“I am touching you.” Sunghoon emphasizes with a pinch to your clit. “More?”

“Hoon, no, here,” you reach down between you two to wrap your fingers around Sunghoon’s wrist—whimpering when Sunghoon’s hand leaves your clit—to push him lower, lower until Sunghoon’s fingers are ghosting over your hole.

Sunghoon inhales sharply, applying the lightest bit of pressure where you need him the most. “God.”

Seconds pass before Sunghoon reels back to rip open the packet of the condom with his teeth, spitting somewhere off the side of the bed. Sunghoon calls for you, “Baby, c’mere.”

You reach for him, arms coming around Sunghoon’s neck and pulling your bodies flush against each other. Sunghoon hoists one of your legs around his waist, firm grip under your thigh.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Sunghoon leans in and noses at your jaw before running a finger down your slit.

You hold Sunghoon tighter when he finally pushes the tip of his finger in, hole clenching around the digit. You moan, voice cracking when Sunghoon slides his finger in deeper, crooking it before adding another.

“Hoon—Sunghoon, add another. I can take it, please.”

Sunghoon kisses your earlobe before pressing his lips against your temple. “I know you can—god, you’re so tight.”

You clench around Sunghoon’s two fingers weakly, pressing your hips down against his hand in an attempt to get him deeper, to feel fuller. You throw your head back when Sunghoon adds a third finger alongside the two, moaning when Sunghoon scissors his fingers.

“I’m ready, Hoon. Please, please, need you now.” You rock back against Sunghoon’s fingers, whining when you feels Sunghoon’s cock twitch against your thigh.

“I barely even stretched you out, baby.”

“Sunghoon, I can’t wait anymore—please,” you beg. “Hurry, baby, Hoon.”

You hear Sunghoon let out a low groan against your temple, and you let out a soft laugh. “Baby? Is that what did it for you?”

“Could say the same to you.” Sunghoon removes his fingers from your hole, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. “It’s just you, I like whatever you call me.”

“Stop being so cheesy—fuck me already.” You can feel your ears getting hot again, and hopes that Sunghoon doesn’t see right through him.

“Hold on, I need to get the condom—”

“No! I’m clean. Wanna feel you inside me, please."

Sunghoon groans against your neck. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“C’mon, Hoon, hurry.”

Sunghoon inhales again, leaving one last kiss against your neck before he pulls back, your arms falling onto the bed. Your stomach churns with anticipation and arousal, and you can already feel the pool of wetness you've left under the both of you. Sunghoon isn’t doing any better, and you can feel the sticky spot of precome he’s left on your thigh as well.

You reach down to run two of your fingers through the mess on your thigh before bringing it to your mouth, sucking around your fingers and moaning at the taste. Sunghoon’s lips part, and then he’s surging forward to taste his own precome off your lips.

“You’re so hot, god, I’m so lucky.”

You whine, wrapping both of your legs around Sunghoon’s hips to cage him in. You moan in unison when Sunghoon’s cock brushes against your clit, and your mouth waters at how thick and warm and heavy Sunghoon feels against him.

You reach between them to wrap your hand around Sunghoon’s cock, guiding the head to your slit to rub it against yourself a few times before pushing the tip into your hole, barely, still teasing.

“Fuck.” Sunghoon moans, and you can’t resist pushing the head completely inside.

You keen, throwing your head back against the headboard as you feel Sunghoon finally entering you slowly, stretching you and filling you up just how youwanted. You moan at the feeling of being so full.

“Ah! Sunghoon—feels so good, so big,” Your head lolls to the side, tongue slipping out when Sunghoon finally bottoms out.

Sunghoon’s thumb swipes against your lip, pushing the spit that’s dribbled out from the corner of your lips back into your mouth, keeping the tip of his thumb inside. Your eyes roll back when Sunghoon moves, slowly, pulling back until the head of his cock catches against the ridges and walls of your entrance and slamming back inside in one go.

You wail, and Sunghoon pulls his thumb from your mouth so he can hear the sounds better. “Fuck, fuck—oh my god, Sunghoon, baby,”

“Yeah? You’re so tight. You feel so good around me—god, could fuck you like this every day.” Your moans rise in pitch with each thrust Sunghoon delivers, and by the end of his sentence, you're practically screaming. “You’re so fucking loud, you want everyone on the floor hearing you get fucked like this? Hearing you getting fucked by me, moaning like a bitch, hm?”

Your mind goes blank. All you can hear and feel and taste is SunghoonSunghoonSunghoon.

Sunghoon groans, throwing his head back when you tighten and clench around him. “All the people who saw you walk today don’t even know that their precious model cries and moans like a whore in bed. All for me, just for me.”

You're delirious. “Yes! Yes, Hoon—oh god, just for you! I’m yours, all yours only yours—”

“You’ve never been anyone but mine. Wanted you so bad for so long, now that I have you I’m not letting you go.”

You let out a loud sob, nodding your head vigorously. It sounds so tempting, so delicious—the thought of being owned by Sunghoon—being Sunghoon's own personal model. Just Sunghoon's and no one elses.

The thought has you seizing up, and before you know it, you're squirting all over Sunghoon's cock, fluid splashing against the sheets and spilling down Sunghoon's balls. Sunghoon moans loudly at the sensation of your walls fluttering but doesn’t let up. His thrusts and rhythm don’t falter, instead, he seems to get rougher, fucking you harder through your orgasm to milk you through it.

You whine in sensitivity, each thrust has Sunghoon’s cock abusing the spongey spot in your cunt, and you can't help the way you shake, releasing small spurts of wetness out around his cock.

Sunghoon hikes your legs higher, the angle causing his cock to hit deeper, filling you up even better than he did before. Your eyes well up with tears; the overstimulation hurts so good.

“Fuck, you look so pretty crying with a cock inside you.” Sunghoon curses, hands coming to hold your hips, using the grip and the new angle to piston his hips faster into your hole. “‘m close—gonna fill you up how you wanted, yeah?”

You nod, hooking your ankles around Sunghoon’s back and pulling him closer, deeper. Sunghoon groans, one hand coming up to wipe at your lashes where your tears are collecting so prettily for him. “Sunghoon, baby, fill me up. Want your cum inside me—want it inside, cum inside. Wanna feel you inside me for days.”

Sunghoon pulls you in for a kiss, all tongue and teeth before pushing his hips flush against yours, burying himself deep inside of your hole as he finally cums.

The warmth of Sunghoon's cum inside of his hole has you shuddering, finally content at the feeling of Sunghoon filling you up to the brim.

“Wish I could plug you up, have you come to my show tomorrow all plugged up with my come still inside of you. You’d like that, huh?” Sunghoon says against your lips, and you clench around Sunghoon’s cock, causing you both to moan lowly. “Next time, baby.”

The kisses turn soft, and you melt against the pillows at the feeling of Sunghoon's lips against yours. You sigh against Sunghoon’s mouth, hands holding his jaw to keep him close.

After a few minutes, Sunghoon moves to pull out. You whine, trying your best to clench to keep Sunghoon and his cum plugged inside of you.

“Baby,” Sunghoon chuckles. “We can’t stay like this forever.”

“Please?” You tug him back down and onto the sticky mess between you, grimacing when it smears against both of your skins. “It’s fine, we can clean tomorrow.”

“No.” Sunghoon fights back, but makes no move to get up or pull out.

“Baby, please?” You beg, voice soft, and your eyes widen when you feel Sunghoon’s cock twitch inside of you. “Sunghoon!”

“You’re just so—” Sunghoon lets out a breath, rolling his hips slowly. You full-body shudder, and blame Sunghoon for the way white hot arousal shoots throughout your body again. “Can’t get enough of you. Want you like this every day.”

“Sunghoon,” you sigh when Sunghoon pulls out an inch before rolling his hips forward, the head of his cock rubbing against your abused walls lightly with each thrust.

It’s slow and sensual and intimate, and after a few minutes you're brought to your third orgasm of the night, another load of Sunghoon's cum filling your hole up.

“God, you don’t know what you do to me. I think I like you too much.” Sunghoon says after you’ve both bathed and are lying in bed. Sunghoon’s arms are wrapped around you and your head is resting on his shoulder.

You look up at him, only to find him already looking at you. This time, it’s your turn to say:

“I know.”

Sunghoon laughs softly, lips curling up at the corners in a soft grin before he leans down to press his lips against your forehead.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

You grin back. “Wouldn’t that be a headline? Sunghoon Park, death by love.”

“And who said that I love you?” Sunghoon raises a brow, amusement and fondness and everything swirling in his eyes.

“You’re not that subtle, Sunghoon.” You lean up to kiss him softly, once, twice before burrowing your head into Sunghoon's chest.

Sunghoon pulls the covers over your shoulders and pulls you closer to him, as if you weren’t already as close as you can be. “Wouldn’t you know?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Wouldn’t I know?” You repeat after him.

The two of you fall asleep like that minutes later, legs and limbs tangled together. You think your poor, weak heart has already jumped out of your chest and into Sunghoon’s welcoming hands a long, long time ago.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

XO sunoo and riki's brand PARADOXXX heeseung, jake, and jay's brand DUMBO house soho house's third nyc club, located on the edge of the east river + where a designer named peter do hosted his after party during nyfw 2 years ago!

a/n: my first fic here is done! listened to party 4 u the whole time while writing this, it almost made me insane. thank you so much for giving this a try if you did! pls reblog/leave me asks or anything :3 that would make me very happy! part 2 will be out soon hehe

[wlwloverwrites]

Routine Check Up

Pairing: Dr. Natasha Romanoff x Reader x Nurse Wanda Maximoff

Summary: After doing some research, you find the perfect gynecologist, Dr. Romanoff and her lovely assistant nurse, Wanda Maximoff.

Warnings: dark themes, medical kink, fingering, humiliation kink, dubious consent, light bondage, vaginal dilators, relaxant drug with use of injection, brief needle mention, 18+ only

Read on ao3

To be transparent, you feared walking in Dr. Romanoff’s office today.

You’ve heard the horror stories, heard about the pain, and the embarrassment. Friends mumbling how they had to scoot down until it felt like they were going to fall to the floor just so their gynecologist could have a ‘good look.’

So you did your research.

You scouted the internet for doctors, reading hundreds of reviews, inputted the addresses into your phone and restarted when you saw they were miles away. Finally, you found Dr. Romanoff.

Stellar reviews, clean office, close to home, and a woman.

When a picture of a beautiful redhead loaded on your screen, a sense of relief filled your body. You figured everything would be more comfortable if your doctor was a woman, so that’s how you found yourself in a medical gown, panties neatly folded - hiding beneath your clothes on a lonely chair.

You tried to leave your panties on, but Nurse Maximoff insisted you took them off, stating it ‘makes things better for the doctor.’

The thin medical gown did little to protect you from the cold and did little to stop the breeze from hitting your backside.

“Are you scared?”

The voice makes you jump, still you reply softly, “A little.”

Not wanting to rip the disposable paper covering the medical table, you carefully turn your head to face the nurse. Still the paper rips and the first wave of embarrassment floods your veins.

“You could always hold my hand. For when it gets too much. How does that sound?”

Your eyes light up immediately by her kind offer and you shyly nod your head.

“Yes please, I’d like that. Personally, I’ve never heard of a great experience at the gynecologist,” you’re rambling, “but I saw Dr. Romanoff - well, I found her online and she had really good reviews…”

”It can be scary, but Dr. Romanoff is very good at her job. She and I will do our very best to keep you comfortable,” she winks.

The smile she sends you has you suppressing a giggle as she walks out of the room, she mumbles that she’s going to bring the doctor.

It isn’t long until you hear muffled voices behind the door, shortly after you hear a sharp knock.

“Come in.”

Oh gosh.

She even more beautiful in person.

Dr. Romanoff sends you a flirty smile. Her red hair is curled, unlike her picture. Long enough to rest just above her collarbones but short enough to let you read her embroidered name on her white coat.

“How are you doing today, sweetheart?”

On autopilot, the doctor washes her hands with proficiency, looking over her shoulder to hear your answer.

“I’m doing good, Dr. Romanoff,” you nod awkwardly as you fiddle with your thumbs.

“That’s nice to hear, sweetheart,” she pauses to look at the clipboard her nurse holds in front of her before looking up at you again, “And please, call me Natasha.”

You only nod, making a mental note to call her Natasha.

”I take it that my best nurse, Wanda, walked you through everything?” She assumes as she puts on a pair of latex gloves - careful not to break the sterile field.

Instead of answering, you stare at her gloved hands, mesmerized by their black color rather than their usual bright blue. The soft call of your name from Wanda has you shaking your head, bring your eyes back up to your doctor.

“Sorry, yes, she walked me through the process.”

“Legs up, feet in the stirrups, and then I need you to scoot all the down.”

The sound of the delicate paper beneath crinkling fills the room as you scoot down, looking up at Wanda who stands next to you. Her hand folds down, telling you to scoot even more, more, more, and stop.

“Just as a precaution we’ll need to strap you down.” Natasha leaves no room for discussion as she signals to Wanda to strap your thighs.

You watch as the nurse clicks the restraints, trapping your thighs - already minimizing your range of motion down to zero.

“Okay,” you mumble, however, your breath hitches when Wanda tightens similar buckles around your ankles, walking between your split thighs as she does. With your feet on the stirrups and the medical gown stretched over your bent knees, you feel exposed.

Wanda then walks back to you, taking your hands, tricking you into submission as she binds them to the table. She only sends you a soft smile as you gape at her actions - surely they didn’t need your hands tied, right? It has to be a mistake?

”It’s just a precaution,” Natasha reiterates with strong eye contact, soothing you by rubbing her hands down your thighs.

”R-right.”

You avoid eye contact the second you see Dr. Romanoff’s eyes peek between your legs. With your wrists locked in place you have no way of covering your face the second you hear the two redheads whisper to each other. Your muscles tense when you catch their eyes looking between your thighs.

“Oh no honey, are you shy?” Natasha coos at you as a latex-covered hand goes to your naked thigh to soothe you.

“A little b-bit,” you stutter shutting your eyes, praying you can just disappear.

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha motions for Wanda to comfort you.

Once again, you jump when a hand reaches for yours. The friction caused by the same latex she wears on her hands feels silly, nevertheless, the soft circles she draws on your hand comforts you enough to open your eyes.

“Better?” Natasha questions from between your legs, only her bright hair is visible over your gown.

“Mhmm,” you nod smiling at Wanda, but choke on your breath when you feel fingers glide between your folds.

“Seems like she’s wet enough.”

”That’s good doctor.”

They speak to each other as if you’re not in the room. Nevermind that it’s you they are looking at, nevermind that it’s you they are touching.

Biting your tongue, your eyes widen when you see Natasha grab a rather large speculum, but lessen when she also reaches for the lube.

You don’t see her use the lube, but you feel it.

”Wanda?”

A pair of green eyes look up from your sex and into yours, you swear you almost see a look of awe on her face.

”Can I hold your hand?”

Your hands waves for hers and she is quick to follow your request, only this time she’s seems annoyed. As if you took time away her new favorite activity - admiring your pussy.

Sighing happily at the comforting hand, you relax enough to let Natasha continue only this time a soft laugh escapes Natasha’s lips when you shiver. Similar to before, her fingers glide between your folds, only thing time it’s easier. It’s obvious she was more than generous with the lube, something you’re thankful for. Again, you’ve heard the horror stories.

Wanda’s hand slips into yours more comfortably the same time Natasha whispers a soft apology when you hiss at the cold metal that’s forced between your legs.

Natasha tries her best to insert the speculum, but it doesn’t budge. She tries harder, pushing the tip inside despite your fluttering walls and the pained whine you let out.

It hurts.

Your hold on Wanda’s hand tightens enough to make your fingers cramp - you can’t imagine how her hand must feel. Restraints wrapped about your ankles and thighs only tighten with every flinch.

Trying your very best to stay quiet, you sniffle and fight the tears that form in your eyes. Wanda catches a glimpse of your tears and shakes her head at her superior.

“I’m hurting you too much,” Natasha sighs, defeated.

You want to tell her it’s okay, you can take it, but when you move to look down and reassure her, the tears fall down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. It won’t fit.”

”I know a way it will feel better, okay?” Natasha hums.

”Yes, Doctor.”

The relief is immediate when she carefully pulls out, only being shoved half an inch the pain is still there.

”Call me Natasha,” she demands sternly.

There’s no please, it’s an order, so you nod.

“And if that doesn’t work I have something else we can try,” she shrugs casually as she shuffles through a drawer next to her.

”Yes, Natasha,” you nod, blinking away your dried tears - anything but that.

Glossy eyes glance up at Wanda, even with her mask on you can see how beautiful she is.

Subconsciously your walls clench around nothing when she sends you another wink. Shy, you break contact and try to close your legs, again you hear Natasha’s familiar chuckle.

“Wanda?”

”Yes, Doctor?”

”Clean her up.”

Almost as if she’s excited, Wanda drops your hand and takes Natasha’s place.

You hear the plastic before you see it. You watch as Natasha hands a small pack of wipes to Wanda. You throw your head back connecting the dots. This has got to be the most humiliating thing ever.

You want to protest, tell your doctor and nurse that you’re more than capable of cleaning yourself, but your hands are tied. A second wave of embarrassment floods your veins when you feel it.

Wanda is gentle as she swipes the wet wipe over your inner thighs, then the lube that’s pooled beneath you left behind from your doctor.

Mentally, you count in your head, trying your best to block out the two intelligent women who seem to have no issue with your nakedness or discomfort.

“I know they look scary, but we will take it slow.”

Natasha’s words bring your attention to the package she holds in her hand. You barely have the chance to read the label before she tears the box open. With new sterile gloves, she sets the multi-colored, silicon inserts, which one more colorful than the last, on the table.

Mesmerized, you stare at the five rod-like devices, each longer, and thicker than the previous, yet all share the same rounded tip.

Before you can ask what they are, Wanda explains Natasha’s upcoming process or inserting the ‘vaginal dilators’ in rounds. You nod, but give your verbal approval when Wanda raises her eyebrows at you.

Finding her familiar spot, Natasha settles between your legs holding the smallest dilator in her hand.

She’s quick, mindful of time, she most likely has another appointment.

You gasp when she pushes the smallest dilator past your entrance. The stretch is minimal, almost non-existent.

The strong and bracing hold on the table loosen when you realize this is much easier.

Whispers are shared between the two scholars as they make the decision to up the stakes, switching to the second smallest.

There’s a sting when Natasha pushes it in. Your chest rises then falls when you feel the base press against your clit.

Despite this only be the second round, there is a fluttering feeling in your lower stomach. Experimentally, Natasha pulls out a few inches, then pushes it back inside you.

“Oh!”

Protected by your gown, Natasha’s smirk is hidden, but Wanda’s isn’t.

”Too much?”

“N-no, I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Instead of replying, Wanda hands Natasha the third dilator, taking back the glistening second.

The third one comes with a stretch. The blunt tip is pressed into your hole, but hardly budges, similar to the speculum.

Peeking down, you watch Wanda staring between your legs and Natasha’s curls bounce when she tilts her head towards you.

The gasp that falls past your lips is loud, your moan is even louder.

Following Natasha’s silent orders, Wanda presses her thumb on your clit. The embarrassment that floods your veins is replaced with pleasure as she rubs meticulous circles on your swollen clit.

Taking advantage of the pleasure that seeps through your veins, Natasha shoves the third inside. The two redheads watch as your walls clench uncontrollably around the thick dilator. The base glistens, similar to the two previous ones, with your wetness.

It feels like hours before Natasha makes the decision to try the fourth dilator.

Same as the large speculum, you get nowhere.

The pleasure fades and is replaced with pain once more.

“I can’t- hurts again.”

Another silent conversation is shared between the medical professionals. Wanda makes her way to the corner of the room, busy searching for something. As a way to distract you, Natasha’s hands sliding her hands up and down your inner thighs, almost in a soothing manner.

It works because you barely notice Wanda reappear between your thighs. Whatever she found is past to Natasha and you swear you hear a finger flicking thin glass.

“Okay, we are going to try that last thing I mentioned before, okay?”

“Yes, Natasha.”

”You’ll feel a small pinch,” she squeezes the meaty part of your inner thighs before continuing, “but we will give it a couple minutes to kick in and everything should feel better.”

You whisper a soft ‘okay’ and that’s when you see it, a large needle in Natasha’s gloved hand.

“Eyes on me,” Wanda calls as the needle disappears between your legs, “This is just going to make you feel relaxed. Your muscles will loosen up, some people say it makes them feel numb. It’s temporary and will allow for Dr. Romanoff to perform her routine check-up.”

You only nod then wince when you feel a painful poke which triggers immediate tears.

“You said a small pinch.”

”I’m sorry, did that hurt?” Natasha’s voice is taunting and dark as she smiles at your glossy eyes.

“That hurt a lot.”

”Promise the rest won’t hurt. Might feel good.”

Her sudden suggestive tone makes you look at the nurse who only shrugs playfully.

“How does that feel?”

Clueless, you look down at the woman between your legs, “Feel what?”

The three of you share a soft laugh, a laugh that’s cut short when you see Natasha reach for the fourth dilator.

Little do you know, the resistance that was there before is gone.

The stretch is painless as Natasha slowly pushes it inside, testing to see how your body accepts it.

It’s silly, how the pain is gone with the help of the relaxant.

Although you wouldn’t describe the feeling as numb, there is no discomfort, only pressure.

“You okay?” Wanda asks, looking at your furrowed brow.

“Uh-yeah. Just feels weird.”

Not only do you feel it, but you hear it.

Sounds of your wetness fills the room as Natasha thrusts the dilator inside you. You watch as fascination fills both Wanda’s and Natasha’s eyes. Even more so, when Natasha replaces the dilator with three of her fingers.

As if your wetness wasn’t loud enough, it’s even louder now. Like your body, despite not feeling most of the pleasurable sensation, is retailating to her touch, leaking at the act of her curling her fingers.

You wait for either of them to address it, but are only met with praise.

“Very good,” Natasha mumbles softly.

“Much better now, huh?”

You nod in agreement, dropping your jaw when you see Natasha stretch her glistening fingers to Wanda’s mouth.

You watch, mortified, as Wanda’s tongue peeks out just seconds before her lips wrap around Natasha’s dripping fingers. You don’t know what you’re expecting, but you most certainly do not expect her to hum and rush to jot down her notes on your file.

Similar to her nurse, Natasha hums rather loudly at your taste.

Your gown has found its new home bunched around your hips, giving you the perfect view of the doctor who stares between your legs, lost in deep thought.

Her fingers dip inside you once more, getting another taste, she hums again, scribbling the words ‘tastes sweet’ next to Wanda’s vulgar words.

Finishing with their notetaking, Wanda moves to point, “Doctor, what about this area, here?”

Pointing to the bud that sits, swollen, begging for more attention, Natasha is quick to follow. With her gloves soaked with her spit and your wetness, her fingers almost slip over your clit making you jump.

“Oh, looks like the injection didn’t work here,” Natasha pouts with deceptive tone. Still she rubs her thumb over your clit, making your eyes roll back and your mouth fall open. “Sensitive, huh? But that doesn’t seem to be a problem.”

Her words barely register in your head as you struggle against the tight straps pinning you down, suddenly realizing what position you’re in. The pressure between your legs builds rapidly.

Panic starts to set when you hear the wet noises paired with Wanda’s encouraging words.

“She’s so wet.”

Your whole body rocks with each thrust of your doctor’s fingers, jolting at every circle she rubs on your sensitive clit. It’s too much.

“Too much? If I didn’t know any better I’d say she’s a whore.”

You shake your head at Natasha’s words, pleading for her to stop, just to give you a second to gather yourself.

“Look here, she can’t even control it.”

You can’t bear it. The way the two woman have no shame in disregarding your begs.

“Wanda?”

”Yes, Doctor?”

“Bring over a mirror,” with a mocking tone she continues, “and bring a tissue for your sweet patient.”

Naively, you mistake her words for love, sniffling your tears and look at her as if she offered the world and Wanda was the one to give it.

Her touch is gentle as she dabs away your tears, shushing you softly until your heart rate goes back to normal. Assessing your calm nerves, Wanda follows the doctor’s next order, holding a round mirror just above her curls - giving you the perfect view of yourself.

You watch, in real time, Natasha’s fingers shove inside you, not three but four of her fingers. You see the way your body reacts to her touch, to the stretch. Your hole strains to fit them.

Again you watch your hole clench involuntarily around nothing when she pulls her fingers out. Wearing the same face of fascination, you stare at your gaping hole. A sinful view that only makes you want to shut your legs.

“Nowhere to hide,” Natasha tuts when you strain against your restraints. “Just look at how pretty you are and come for me.”

Before you can ask her what she’s talking about, her fingers slide inside you. Her other free hand rubs firm circles on your clit that has your body jerking once more, chasing the pleasure.

Without knowing, your eyes fall shut from the overwhelming feeling in your lower belly. As a result a firm slap lands on your clit, “Eyes on the mirror.”

The heat and pressure grow as Wanda whispers encouraging words, urging you to let go, humming on how you’re such a good patient, so good at following orders as you whisper a soft, ‘Yes, Natasha.’

You see Natasha’s fingers curl faster, watching as a clear liquid squirts onto her palm. Finally getting the reaction she wants, Natasha praises you.

“Come on, sweetheart, you can do it.”

Masking her order as encouragement you’re forced to listen. She holds all the power, she’s the one calling the shots.

Nodding your head you try your best to listen, but it’s not enough. As if Wanda can read your mind, she whispers something short in Natasha’s ear. As a result, the view of yourself is blocked by her curls. 

Innocent eyes search for Wanda’s, yearning for her gentle comfort. 

Like the good nurse she is, she drops the mirror and goes by your side. Her fingers intertwine with yours as the pleasure builds. 

This time a loud moan escapes your lips when you feel Natasha’s lips wrap around your clit. She’s brutal. Laps her tongue on your clit without warning, desperately seeking out your orgasm. 

The heavy coil threaten to release as expert fingers repeatedly hit the sweet spot inside you. Pressing against the spot that triggers more tears to paint your cheeks. 

“I’m gonna come!”

Her tongue only perfects her rhythm, rolling over your throbbing clit, teasingly letting her teeth join the mix. Looking down you see the hunger in her eyes, craving everything she’s forcing you to give her.

With a sob you whine Wanda’s name, you’re not sure what for, but she seems to know the answer. 

A soothing hand is pressed against your cheek and Wanda tilts your head to face her. Just as you’re about to give your doctor a second warning, Wanda’s lips press against yours. 

The kiss is messy, her tongue moves like Natasha’s. Licking at your lips, pressing against your drooling tongue, sucking it into her mouth with a soft moan. Spit dribbles on your chin, it’s exotic and has you falling off the edge.

Your thighs shake within the constraints, your pussy clenches around Natasha’s latex-covered fingers that still expertly curl inside you. The coil snaps and you spill onto her tongue, so much you drip between your thighs and onto the floor. 

“Such a sweet girl.”

It’s hard to ride out your orgasm, panting into Wanda’s mouth, your hips stay in place - still they try their best to squirm away from Natasha’s torture. Maybe if you play nice.

”Thank you, doctor.”

Your thanks fall repeatedly past your lips, a beg for her to stop, to pull away from between your legs. Tuckered out, you collapse onto the table. 

Oh, you are quite the sight. 

Your pussy is drenched, inner thighs glisten under the harsh light above. Your chin is wet with a combination of yours and Wanda’s spit, and your eyes flutter close as the wave of exhaustion hit you.

You don’t know when your eyes fell shut, but your attention is back on the woman when you feel the straps loosen. The skin that was bounded is decorated with indents of the buckles that held you down. Knackered, you make no move to cover yourself, make no move to stand.

“Is that usually what happens during your routine check ups?”

Your serious question is answered with a serious tone, “Always.”

“When you’re ready you can schedule you next appointment with Wanda at the front desk.”

my last fic, everything’s in check, got flagged. this is my second attempt at it :)

[tojisteddy]

Heavenly | cw: 18+ mdni, daddy kink, fluffy, no smut, pet names (angel, sweetheart, bunny), no use of y/n, l

Working was stressful.

When was it not?

But today drained the living daylights out of you. Not bad per day just- rough. Rocky. But you handled it well, just as Price knew you could. His strong girl. It’s when you got home when the exhaustion hit you. No time to make dinner, or shower or watch your favorite show— you plopped yourself down on the bed, scrolled on your phone for a bit before playing some music. Swearing you’d nap for twenty minutes.

But the time flew by, sun setting and the night sky filling with stars. Usually Price would come home to you and you’d hop your cute butt towards him in your large blue and white couples pajama set that hung off your body or you’d yawn when he came home extra late, the scuff of your slippers hitting the floor. He’d take you in his arms, squeeze you tight, happy to be home.

“Shall we eat bunny?” He’d ask like he doesn’t know the answer.

“Of course!” you’d hum, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck whilst he slipped off his shoes, “Made somethin new, hope you like it John.” And he always did. He loves whatever his pretty baby makes, with the stomach of a bear, he’d eat about anything.

Today was different, the living room and kitchen silent and dark, but he followed the music that played from the bedroom. And he’s see you there, under the duvet, well asleep, your bag that’s usually downstairs is thrown to the floor. He can see you, all curled up on his side of the bed, the green blouse you’d worn to work peeking from under the comforter. You were sent from above right into his arms, he came to be bed, bending down to get perfect vision of your beautiful sleeping face. Your chest rising and falling, mouth just slightly agape, John’s pretty baby, he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Daddy’s here sweet girl.” And there’s a kiss on top of your curls. He doesn’t mean to wake you, when he move his hand away from you. But it was instinct at this point in your relationship. You’d become a light sleeper, always eager to see a glimpse of your Daddy, just in case you missed him. “Welcome back,” you mumbled, your voice groggy, still half asleep. Your lashes fluttered open more, taking in the space.

The lights were dim, some song by cigarettes after sex playing, and it was completely dark out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t make dinner,” you go to get up but john gently pressed on your stomach, getting you to lay back down.

“Something wrong baby? Hm? Tired?” John knows you like the back of his hand. Even if you’re a little off he’s the first to notice, even if you don’t, and the first to confront it.

You shrug, bringing the duvet closer to you, “Day was long is all.”

“You made it though, didn’t you? My strong Angel.” Johns always so encouraging, always believes you can do whatever you set your mind to. Whatever you wanted John would help you, give you that extra push when you needed it.

“ ‘M just not feelin much like an angel Daddy.” You want to hide— just a little— hide away your insecurities that would build, racking your brain of what you could’ve done different— the fatigue of it all. But you know better.

John’s lips curve downward, his poor girl, he’d help you. “You’ll always be my Angel, baby. Today was just hard, days like that come ‘nd go. Let me take care ‘f you, yeah?”

You just needed some pampering.

John and you take a bath, he takes care of everything. His large hands going up and down your body with a rag to cleanse your body, and then cleaning you off. Kissing your neck, shoulders, right where he imagined your Angel wings on your back. You turn in Johns lap, brown eyes looking up at him like a cute bunny.

“Can we- um- can I-“ John knows that look, unable to look at him but small smile on your face. You want to kiss him.

“Of course,” his arm draws you closer to him, rubbing your back.

And it’s like all the stress melts away, his soft lips fitting together with yours, holding you close to his chest. The kiss is slow, gentle. Not one that will lead to something else but, needed. Comforting.

“Feel better?” He smiles in delight, pecking kisses from your blushing cheeks up to your ears.

“Much.” You sigh in relief, resting your head on his neck, wrapping your arms around him. “missed you soooo much.”

And it’s so blissful. John drying you off and putting you in those cute baby blue pajamas you like. Setting you on the kitchen counter and making you and him a light dinner. He feeds you of course, enjoying seeing you well fed. And then it’s time for bed. The musics playing and you’re already dozing off while he cuddles you. Your head on his chest as he rubs all your sweet spots.

“Thank you Daddy.” You mumble, eyes closing shut falling into a deep slumber. And he smiles, his gorgeous angel, kissing your forehead.

“No problem sweetheart.”

a/n: @bunnybeaches said the world needed john fluff, I immediately started writing John fluff🫡🫡 (plus I needed this too, I’d love to have this man pamper me.)

most recent masterlist

[grimesproperty]

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒

You and Eren are such close best friends, almost "platonic." You open up to Eren about your desire to gain more experience now that you both are in college. Being the sweet best friend he is, he listens to you. And being the sweet best friend you are.

You ask him if he can teach you a few things, even teaching you how he is gonna take your virginity.

(PART TWO)

EREN YEAGER X READER

cw: nsfw

—

"You can't just... expect to be good at it," he said, leaning back on your bed, arms stretched behind his head, the thin fabric of his t-shirt clinging to his chest. "You gotta practice. Learn. Like anything else."

"So?, you said you were going to teach me,” you said, voice shaking a little too much.

He grinned, sharp and wicked. "Only if you ask nicely."

It was supposed to be a joke.

It wasn't.

Because somewhere between laughter and half-drunken dares, you were sitting on his lap, straddling him, heat pooling between your legs, heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped thing. Nobody has ever gone down on you before.. you were nervous. Too nervous to meet his gaze.

And Eren... Eren looked at you like he was starving

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, voice hoarse, brushing hair behind your ear with trembling fingers. "Tell me to stop, and I swear I will."

You didn't.

You kissed him instead, reckless and messy, lips colliding with no finesse — just need.

He kissed every inch of you, slow and reverent, like he was memorizing the shape of your body with his mouth. And when he kissed lower, between your thighs, leaving open-mouthed kisses along soft skin — you gasped his name, grabbing at his hair.

"Let me," he rasped against your thigh, voice desperate. "Please. Let me taste you."

You were already too far gone to deny him.

And when he finally dragged his tongue over you — slow, devastating — it shattered something between you.

Because Eren wasn't careful. He was hungry.

Growling low in his throat, he buried himself between your thighs like he was a man possessed, arms hooked under your hips to pin you against his mouth.

It wasn't neat. It wasn't gentle

It was messy, dirty, desperate — wet sounds filling the room as he licked and sucked and groaned against you like he needed it to breathe. Like getting you off was the only thing that mattered.

You came so hard you saw stars, sobbing his name, thighs clamping around his head. But he didn't stop. God, he didn't stop.

Licking you through it, pressing kisses against your soaked folds, whispering broken things against your skin:

"So sweet... can't get enough of you... fuck, you're perfect, you're so perfect—"

When he finally pulled away, his mouth was slick with you, green eyes blown wide with something feral and aching.

And when you reached for him — dazed, trembling — he just cradled your face in his hands, looking at you like you'd ruined him.

"This isn’t just sex anymore," he said, voice wrecked. "This was never just sex."

You were both breathing hard, hearts pounding in sync, faces inches apart.

No jokes now. No games. Just raw, terrifying truth.

You stared at him — your best friend, your everything — and realized the terrifying, beautiful thing neither of you could deny anymore:

You weren't just friends. You weren't just lovers. You were something deeper, older, written into your bones.

“Tell me to stop.”

The words rasped from Eren’s mouth, his breath hot against your inner thigh. But his eyes — those feral, starving green eyes — begged you to do the opposite.

You didn’t tell him to stop. You spread your legs wider for him.

And he broke.

He growled — an honest, low sound vibrating through his chest — and dove in like a man who’d been dying of thirst and just found water.

His tongue licked a fat, slow stripe up your pussy, from dripping entrance to sensitive clit, moaning low like you were the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“Fuck— you taste so good,” he groaned, the words almost angry. "So fuckin’ sweet—"

Then he latched onto your clit and sucked, messy and obscene, spit and slick mixing until you were gasping, hips bucking uselessly against his mouth.

He didn’t care about neatness. He wasn’t trying to impress you.

Eren was devouring you.

Wet, filthy sounds filled the room — the lewd slurping of his mouth on you, the desperate noises ripping from your throat as his tongue worked you over with single-minded, brutal precision.

He ate like he wanted to crawl inside you.

Fucking his tongue into your tight, aching hole, moaning against you like he was losing his mind, nose nudging your swollen clit with every filthy lick. His hair was a mess under your fingers, and you couldn’t stop pulling, grounding yourself before you floated away.

“E-Eren—” you whimpered, trembling.

He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

“Look at you,” he panted against your dripping cunt, fingers digging bruises into your thighs to hold you open for him. “Already fuckin’ falling apart for me— you needed this, didn’t you, baby? Needed me to ruin you—"

He buried his face back between your legs before you could answer, tongue fucking into you so deep you cried out, thighs shaking violently.

You came — hard — clenching around his tongue, grinding against his mouth shamelessly as he moaned into your orgasm like he was getting off on it.

But Eren didn’t stop when you came. No, he kept going.

Overstimulation slammed into you, overwhelming and brutal, as he licked you through it — messy, desperate, starving — spit and slick dripping down your thighs, coating his mouth and chin.

You felt him slide two thick fingers into you without warning, curling them perfectly inside you as he sucked your clit back into his mouth, groaning like he couldn't get enough of the way you squeezed him.

"S'tight, fuck— so perfect for me," he slurred, voice ruined, fucking his fingers into you faster, messier, noisier.

The squelching sounds were so filthy you could barely process them — just whimpering, babbling nonsense, totally helpless against the way he was breaking you apart.

“Gimme another one,” he growled, voice rough, desperate. “Come again. Want you soaked all over my fuckin’ face.”

And you did — pathetically fast — body locking up, thighs trembling violently as you shattered again with a raw sob of his name.

“Eren— oh my god— EREN—!”

He groaned like a man possessed, licking you through it, like he wanted every drop of you, like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted.

When he finally pulled away, his mouth was shiny with you — lips, chin, nose soaked — eyes glassy and wrecked.

You lay there trembling, fucked-out and teary-eyed, chest heaving.

And then he crawled up your body — slow, heavy — caging you under him, face hovering inches from yours.

You could still taste yourself on his lips when he kissed you, filthy and deep, no hesitation, like he wanted you to know exactly what he’d done to you.

When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to yours, voice low and broken, "Your fucking kill me.."

"Get on your knees," he says, pulling back. You opened your eyes to meet his gaze, confusion evident on your face.

You should’ve known Eren wouldn’t let it end there, you told yourself.

He was kneeling above you now, green eyes wrecked, cock heavy and flushed against his stomach, throbbing between you two.

Not when he was looking at you like you were something holy — something he wanted to ruin and worship in equal measure.

"Want you to learn somethin’ else," he rasped, voice broken and low.

Your throat went dry, your legs still trembling from how brutally he'd devoured you earlier.

Eren fisted the base of his cock, sliding it slowly through his spit-slicked hand, precum leaking from the tip, smearing across his knuckles.

"You ever deepthroat before, baby?" he murmured, almost sweet. You shook your head, wide-eyed, lips parted.

He smiled — soft, devastating. "It's okay. I'll teach you."

You were already on your knees before him, trembling hands resting on his thighs, your mouth watering at the sheer size of him.

"You gotta relax," he whispered, cupping your jaw, tilting your head back to look at him. "Let me in. Let me take care of you."

Your heart thundered.

You opened your mouth.

Eren groaned — wrecked — guiding the flushed, leaking head of his cock to your lips.

"That's it," he panted as you wrapped your lips around him, sucking shyly, feeling the heat and weight of him on your tongue. "So fuckin’ pretty with my cock in your mouth—"

He pushed in slow, letting you get used to it, letting you breathe — but even then, you gagged when he hit the back of your throat, tears immediately pricking your eyes.

You whimpered, choking slightly, drool already starting to drip down your chin.

"Shh, shh, good girl, so good," Eren cooed, brushing your hair off your face, thumb wiping a tear away. "That's what I want, baby. Let it all out for me."

You gagged again as he rocked his hips slightly, deeper, forcing you to take more of him, your throat convulsing around the fat head of his cock.

The wet, messy sounds were obscene — your sobs, your gasps, the slurp of drool leaking from your lips.

"You’re doin’ so good," he praised between heavy breaths. "So fuckin’ brave for me, pretty thing."

He pulled back just enough to let you breathe, then pushed in again — deeper this time — holding your head still with both hands as you struggled, tears pouring down your face, spit stringing between your lips and his cock.

Your jaw ached. Your throat burned. You loved it.

He was whispering broken things, voice shattering:

"Fuck— you're made for this— perfect little mouth— my pretty baby— takin’ me so well—"

You whimpered around him, trying to swallow him deeper, desperate for more praise, desperate to make him proud.

He hissed, hips jerking, barely holding himself back.

"Fuck— you want it deeper, huh? Look at you— beggin' for it— god, you’re fuckin’ perfect—"

You nodded the best you could, gagging around him, crying openly now — spit, snot, tears a mess across your face.

Eren nearly lost it right there.

He pulled back, letting you gasp for air, chest heaving, before tapping his cock against your swollen lips.

"You wanna try again, baby?" he crooned, voice dark with hunger. "Wanna be a good girl for me?"

"Please," you sobbed, completely wrecked. "Please, Eren— wanna be good for you—"

He moaned — wrecked, possessive, in love — grabbing your jaw and sliding his cock back into your mouth, deeper this time, guiding your head onto him slowly but firmly.

You gagged violently when he bottomed out, nose pressed against his pelvis, tears streaming, but Eren was right there, praising you, worshipping you:

"That's it, that's my good girl," he panted. "So fuckin’ good for me— takin’ it all— proud of you, baby— so proud—"

You sobbed around him, overwhelmed, humiliated, honored — desperate for every word, every touch.

And when he finally started thrusting — slow, controlled, using your mouth like it was his — you surrendered completely.

Tears, spit, the sounds of your messy throatfucking filled the room — filthy, desperate, devastating.

You barely registered him pulling you off at the last second, groaning your name like a prayer, thick ropes of cum painting your swollen lips, your chin, your trembling fingers.

You gasped, blinking up at him through blurry, tear-soaked eyes, wrecked and ruined and so full of love you thought you might die from it.

Eren collapsed to his knees, pulling you into his arms, cradling you against his bare chest.

He kissed your spit-smeared cheeks, your tear-streaked forehead, whispering broken, beautiful things:

"Mine," he breathed. "You're mine. Always."

And you clung to him, sobbing against his chest, because you knew it too.

You weren't just friends. You weren’t just lovers.

You were soulmates. Filthy, messy, destroyed.

And you’d never be whole without him again.

—

Hope you guys enjoyed this little series!

[heyimkana]

Kaannnnnaaaa, plz pillow talk spoilers.... Even just a sneak peak... PLZ IM BEGGING

LMFAOO anything for you juliet 😭🫶

“What about you, Husband? Which part of my features do you like the most?”

Jinwoo, so effortlessly, lifts your body and places you back on the bed, your hair strewn on the pillow as he hovers above you. “I love everything about you,” he confesses in a breathy whisper. “I adore every part of you, even those that you try to hide, those that you think don’t deserve to be loved.” His fingers trace the blemish on your face, the soft scars on your body that you’d gotten during your adventurous childhood days, the stretch marks on your stomach that never truly disappeared after your first pregnancy, and the little dark circles under your eyes from all the sleepless nights. Jinwoo adores all your imperfections, as they are still perfections in his eyes. “But if I had to choose one, then I’d have to say…” His gaze cascades down your face, his thumb tracing over the shape of your mouth. “This.”

“My… mouth?” You reply a little hazily, your own stare falling to his lips. “Why…?”

“Because I love the way you kiss me,” he whispers, keeping his lips a hair’s breadth away from yours as he gathers what's left of his self-control to finish the rest of his answer. You can almost feel the shape of the words he speaks. “Your lips are a perfect fit against mine. I love how soft they feel, how sweet you taste. And they just look so beautiful, and so damn… kissable.” He bites his own lip, fighting the urge to claim yours. He doesn’t want to give in to temptation just yet. He wishes to douse the curiosity that brims in your eyes, even when your tongue is too shy to speak it. 

“I love the way they move when you talk to me,” he continues in sotto voce, his thumb brushing the edge of your mouth. “I love how gorgeous they look when you smile.” Every cell of his body, similar to yours, begs him to bridge the distance. “And when you say my name… The way these pretty lips look when you say it… It drives me wild.” His hand suddenly begins to move, roaming up your thigh, eliciting a startled gasp. “And that—those cute little noises you make when I touch you. Those beautiful, sweet little sounds…” He sighs longingly, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “God, I feel like I’m losing my mind whenever I’m with you.”

Six years. Six years you’ve been together, and you still have these effects on him. And his effects on you are even worse.

You’ve forgotten how many times he’s lit your body on fire tonight, merely by his lines. But perhaps it’s not because of the words he speaks, it’s the never-ending desire that coats them. He makes you feel like you’re a prize to be won, a heaven’s gift that he still yearns, no matter how often he’s tasted you.

“But beyond all that… What I love the most about your mouth is…” He brings himself to your ear, his voice deep and breathy. “What you can do with it.” 

so I'm probably gonna tag all the people who I already tagged in the previous chapter, but if there's anyone else who wants to be tagged, let me know 👀

Read Pillow Talk here if you haven't ❤️

[rickywhen-i-catchyouricky]

Forever?

I don't know, I'm in my feelings right now so here's a short ranking of who among the brothers + the dateables would be the least to most likely be open to the concept of forever with you:) Lmk if you like the idea I kinda wanna write a longer fic about it mwahahhahahaha, also! If you disagree w my rankings, it's just my take, you're free to rank them however you see fit <3

The brothers + Dateables

c/w: gn! pronouns used, none

word count: like 70 words each lol

11. Belphegor

He loves you, deeply. But forever? He’s cautious, he knows what eternity feels like, and after everything with Lilith, he doesn't immediately jump to forever. If MC proves to be a constant comfort, someone he can dream beside without fear—he’ll come around. But he’s hesitant first.

“You’d want to be stuck with a sleepy cow demon like me forever? That’s a long time, you know...”

10. Solomon

Kinda unexpected from a person who's lived for centuries but it is for that exact reason that he'd be uncertain. He knows what forever feels like and it’s not always kind. He’s seen love fade, promises break. But MC makes him hope again. The skepticism isn't because he doesn’t want them, but rather he worries he’ll lose them to time. When he finally caves, it’s with trembling honesty.

“Eternity… hasn’t been kind to me. But if it’s with you? I think I could learn to love it again.”

9. Mammon

Mammon is ride-or-die. He wouldn’t say it first—but he’d mean it more than anyone. He’ll fight for their affection every day, terrified they'll find someone better. When they call him their favorite, his heart practically stops. That’s when he starts planning the rest of his life around them, without telling them outright. He wants forever badly, but it scares the hell out of him. He won’t ask for it until he’s absolutely sure they won’t leave.

“Ya really want me around forever? Seriously? Well, duh—who doesn't want to spend forever with The Great Mammon! You better not be joking ‘cause I ain’t ever leavin’, not in a thousand years.”

8. Leviathan

Surprisingly high. Once he loves, he loves hard. He doesn’t believe he deserves someone like MC, but if they choose him again and again? He’ll devote his whole eternity to them. He’s terrified, but he wants it. His "forever" just sounds like building Legos, watching anime, and holding her hand during boss fights.

“If you really- really meant it, I’d—yeah. I’d want to stay. Until the last save point.”

7. Simeon

Hear me out—he wants to love forever, but he’s scared of the pain it might bring. Still, he believes in love, deeply. With MC, it’s gentle warmth, shared stories, laughter over tea. If they asked him to stay, he’d fall to Earth, The Devildom, or anywhere, just to be near them.

“If eternity means hearing your laughter every day… then I would give up Heaven for it in a heartbeat.”

6. Satan

Satan is both romantic and pragmatic. He’s aware of the risks of forever, but he’s fascinated by the way MC makes the days feel different. Eternity is long, but if he can laugh with them, debate them, and read beside them for all of it? He’s in.

“I never thought I’d want to stay in one story forever. But you keep changing the plot.”

5. Asmodeus

I already know what some of you are thinking because most think he’s flighty, but after everything that happened—Asmo craves deep, everlasting connection. If MC shows they see more than just his beauty, and love him as he is? He’ll hold their hand through the centuries, making sure they always feels desired, adored, and treasured.

“You’ll still think I’m beautiful when we’ve watched the stars burn out, right? Good. Then I’m yours.”

4. Lucifer

He understands the weight of eternity. Lucifer will consider the practicalities of binding his fate to theirs, but once he lets his heart lead? He’s certain. He doesn’t love lightly, and if he chooses forever, he’ll mean it. But he might hide how badly he wants it at first.

“Do you understand what eternity means, MC? Perfect, then you understand why I’d still choose you.”

3. Barbatos

I always think of that one line from nightbringer. Time has never surprised him, until MC. They're unpredictable, joyful, and they make his centuries-old heart ache in a way he thought impossible. Barbatos would already have seen a future with them in it—but he’d choose it every time.

“I’ve seen many possible endings, but none compare to a future where you are by my side.”

2. Beelzebub

Beel would never say it first, but he’s the most steadfast. If MC loves him back, that’s it. He’s theirs. He doesn’t need flowery promises—he shows it in actions, in quiet meals, in always being their shield. Forever with them? It’s natural to him.

“I don’t know what forever looks like... But if you’re there, I’ll be happy. I promise.”

1. Diavolo

Forever is a promise he was born to make. He’s been alone too long, but MC's joy brings color back to his world. The second they smile at him like he’s home, it’s over. He’s ready to build a world with them. One they rule beside him—not behind him.

“Forever? MC, I was hoping you’d say that. I’ve already started dreaming of our centuries together."

[scorpioriesling]

Can you do one where we are feeling insecure around Ridoc and his genuine reaction;)))

Pretty Isn't Pretty Enough

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Ridoc x reader

Warning(s): I wanted to answer this request in the way I felt most appropriate, and natually chose a day to complete it when I could resonate with Y/N. Although I hope no one would experience these feelings, this story is written with self-image and body negativity themes. Please remember, I love you all, and every body is perfect and beautiful in its own way. <3

Summary: When you are caught on a bad body-positivity day, your boyfriend is astonished but always willing to build you back up to where you belong.

SR’s Note: I usually stay pretty positive on here, but I want to be real with you guys. I'm kind of going through it and feeling a bit down and insecure today, and this story honestly was exactly what I needed to write (I didn't want to write at all, but I registered how this request was mirroring my mood). I don't want to be a debby-downer, I just want everyone to remember they're beautiful in their own way and we all need to remember how far we've come. <3 Don't let the hard days win -- I know I won't. Much love to you all.

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @lreadsstuff @freakishfandomfiend @littleemissperfecttt @loveofmychips @bodhidurrans (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

The soft breeze tickled your nose as it swept through the air. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm glow across the courtyard. You walked beside your boyfriend, hand-in-hand as you made your way to the dining hall for lunch. The wind picked up a bit, and you felt the soft chill against your abdomen, bringing goosebumps to the surface of your skin.

You lightly dropped Ridoc's hand, subtly tugging the hem of your shift lower. He didn't even bat an eye, continuing on about how he handed Traeger's ass to him last night in sparring. He didn't even flinch when you took your hand back in his.

"...and then, he totally fell right on his ass when I socked him in the ribs-"

Ribs. The cool breeze struck again, weaving beneath the fabric of your top. You huffed internally, once again dropping Ridoc's hand in favor of readjusting your shirt. When it was tugged to your liking, you threaded your fingers through his once more.

"...and then, that was that! Emmetario called it!"

You dropped his hand more forecful than you meant to this time, sighing aloud in frustration as you yanked your shirt as far down over your abdomen that it could go. Ridoc paused his story, side-eyeing you as his steps faltered.

"Is... everything okay?"

You looked up at him with as much feigned innocence that you could muster, shrugging in ignorance.

"Yeah! Yeah, Ridoc, everything is fine."

His brow furrowed as his steps stalled to a stop, and he turned to face you fully.

"Are you sure? Your shirt seems to be giving you trouble."

You tugged and pulled at the short sleeves of the garment, again shrugging and looking around as you tried to come up with something.

"No! It's just... chilly out here, I guess." You mumbled. Ridoc's face lit up.

"Aah, I see! Well, that's no problem," he grunted as he shrugged off his flight jacket. Your heart swelled at the welcome cover-up as he reached around you, draping it over your shoulders. "I was a bit hot anyway."

He made sure the leather coat was blanketed around you, holding onto the front lapels a moment longer as he smiled down at you. He pulled you in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He was smiling when you pulled back, gazing down into the eyes he loved so much. You offered a small smile back, and he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"Now, let's go eat some lunch, yeah? I'm starvin'."

✧･ﾟ: *

You panted as you frantically tore through your closet, eager to find something to wear. Everything you'd tried on so far had either been too exposing, too tight, or just downright too uncomfortable. You'd found a few tops that would work, however the bottoms were a different story.

Earlier at lunch, Rhiannon had the great idea of the squad going out for a little fun tonight, seeing as it was the first Friday of the warmer season. Everyone was excited, and everyone was eager to go -- you had even entertained the idea. That was, until you got back to your dorm and began searching for something to wear.

"Ugh, fuck!" You growled in frustration, stepping before the mirror once more only to find disappointment. Again, the jean shorts you had thought might work did not fit right, and you yanked them off in anger. Once you unlooped your leg, you threw them at the wall above your bed in frustration. Tears stung the backs of your eyes as you turned back to your closet, only then realizing it was the last pair in there.

Bracing both hands on the closet door, you hung your head, allowing the tears to fall. Soft sniffles came as more and more tears flowed, running down your cheeks and dripping onto the carpet below. You clenched your right hand into a fist, banging it on the closet door once as defeat continued to well within you.

When you looked up again, your teary-eyed gaze fell on the blue and white minidress amid the mass of black and gray filling the space. You hadn't worn it in years, likely the last time being when your older brother graduated. It had looked good back then, and you kept the piece as you had enjoyed the way it fell on you -- perhaps it would still do the trick tonight.

You sighed, reaching for the hanger and tugging it free. Your favorite part was the loose fabric, and how it would hang on your body in all the right ways. You shimmied it up your body, picking and prodding it to fit correctly before sulking toward the mirror again.

Instantly, your face heated. Your hand pressed to your mouth as you took in the sight before you, unable to tear your gaze from the looking glass. Negative, intrusive thoughts filled your mind as you stared, gawking at how the fabric stretched and moved along your body in a way it hadn't before.

You shook your head slowly, trying to accept defeat. You simply wouldn't go, you decided, shrugging and letting out a humorless laugh at your reflection. You'd tell them you didn't feel good, and you weren't going.

You sat on your bed, your eyes glazing over as you allowed all your worst thoughts to rush in. Every time someone would adjust the weight machines at the gym after you'd used them -- somehow, it felt like everyone was stronger than you. Every time sparring partners were assigned, you knew it was based on weight and body similarity -- were you a bitch for always feeling upset by the partner you were given, or were you simply unhappy with yourself? Every time your boyfriend would play around, flexing his muscles and flashing a glimpse of his V line... you still weren't sure how he'd found such an interest in you.

Tears continued to fall as you dissociated, completely centering your focus to the rushing self-depricating thoughts swirling in your mind. You hadn't heard the knock, or the turn of the handle, or your boyfriend's concerned voice as he came into the room with you. You only seemed to snap out of the daze when he came up behind you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and nudging you lightly.

"Y/N... Y/N... Y/N, what's going on?"

You turned sharply, gazing at him over your shoulder with your red-rimmed eyes. His face immediately fell, his eyes softening as he registered the state you were in. He set down whatever was in his hands, instead rounding the bed to talk to you.

"Baby, oh gosh... what's wrong, sweetheart? What happened?"

He knelt before you, slotting himself between your knees as he took your hands in his. You sniffled, trying and failing to surpress the following rush of emotion as your boyfriend stared up at you. His expression was of care, for you and for what he didn't even realize was happening yet.

You sniffled hard, closing your eyes as the tears fell faster. He brought one of your knuckles to his lips, kissing it softly as he continued to stare up at you.

"Sweetheart, please -- its me, please talk to me?"

His words were broken, mirroring how you felt. You finally blinked your eyes open, your heart hurting as you peered into his brown ones. He held your stare with patience and security, like no matter what you told him, he'd figure out a way to make it right.

You swallowed hard, dropping one of his hands in favor of reaching up to wipe one of your stray tears away. He gave you time, remaining patient so you could collect yourself before speaking.

"I... it's not a good day, today. For me." You began, your voice hoarse. He listened, nodding softly.

"I... I'm not, feeling. My best," you tried to elaborate, and he immediately opened his mouth.

"Are you feeling sick? Did you get hurt, Y/N? Because I swear to the Gods, if someone laid a hand on you, I'll-"

"No, no," you shook your head, interrupting his senseless anger. "It's not that. It's nothing like that."

He took a breath, settling between your knees again.

"Phew, okay, that's good -- but that still doesn't explain what's going on." He leveled you with a look. You looked to the side, not wanting to meet his eye.

"I just... I'm feeling a bit, down, today. Insecure, I suppose." You looked down. Your gaze jumped to him when he reached up, taking your jaw in his gentle hand.

"Insecure? For what reason, honey?"

Your bottom lip trembled as he tilted your face to look at him again.

"It's... my body."

The words came out as a whisper, and though you wanted to bury your face in your hands, you couldn't. Ridoc's brows furrowed, and he dropped his hand.

"I don't understand."

You loosed a breath, shaking your hands and wringing the stress off of them. You met his gaze again and answered his question.

"My body, it's... it's not what I wish it was. It's not... beautiful."

Your throat felt as though it was going to close, admitting those words aloud. You squeezed your eyes shut, working to fight back another emotional tidal wave when you heard the most unexpected thing you ever could have imagined.

Ridoc, your boyfriend -- was, laughing.

Your eyes flew open, immediately looking to him before you. His white teeth shone as he laughed, and laughed, and laughed. The red at the corners of your vision began clouding your judgement, until it was all you seemed to see.

"Are you fucking serious right now, Ridoc? You come in here, see that I'm so fucking upset, and you think you have the right to-"

"No! No, baby, no," he says, his breaths uneven as he words to come down from his giggle fit. "I'd never laugh at you, especially when you're so distraught over something... but, are you serious?" He asked, looking up to you again.

You glared at him.

"Yeah, Ridoc, pretty fuckin; serious. What, you want me to say it again?" Rage coated every word, and he rose to his knees to be more at your height.

"No! I just... I simply can't believe it," he said, shaking his head slowly. "Never, in a million years would I think your body was anything less than perfect -- it just sent me for a loop, what you said, because it seems so unbelieveable to think you'd be so hard on yourself over how you look." He reasoned.

You scoffed. "Yeah, well, unfortunately we don't all get to have huge muscles and toned abs like you, Ridoc."

He sighed, taking your hands in his again. He was quiet before he spoke, thinking his response over.

"Y/N, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said softly, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "You're strong," another kiss. "You're kind," a kiss again. "And you're a Hell of a rider. Feisty, sure -- but it's one of the things I love most about you."

Your eyes drooped as tears welled in them again, and this time you didn't fight them.

"You're an inspiration, Y/N, in everything you do. You're a good friend, a valuable squadmate, and a very, very beautiful woman." A smile ghosted his lips. "To me, you're perfectly shaped -- you're in all of my dreams, and in every one, you look the exact same."

Silent tears rolled down your cheeks, and he reached to wipe them with his thumb.

"I can see this weighs heavily on your heart and mind, and you're truly being way too hard on yourself." He continued, his eyes searching yours. "You have to remember all the things you've accomplished, and all you've done with this body. This is the body that's gotten you there -- every won match, every battle, every intense training session -- you have conquered them all, and your body was there through all of it."

You sniffled, and he leaned in to wrap his arms around you. "Come here," he offered, and you leaned yoru head against his shoulder as he pulled you in for a tight hug. Tears dotted the shoulder of his flight jacket as his fingers stroked lovingly through your hair.

"Every time you feel doubtful, I'll always be happy to remind you how much I love you." He assured, and you nodded. "To me, you are perfect, you have always been enough, and you deserve every wonderful thing in this life, Y/N."

You pulled back, wiping a hand over your face to clear the tears. He smiled at you, his hand cupping your cheek.

"You're my beautiful girlfriend, Y/N, and I could never ask for anything more -- I just wish that you could see yourself the way I do. Then you'd understand the way I love every inch of you, no matter what shape or size or texture."

His lips were soft when you put yours to them, and he kissed you with all the love he had to give as your racing heart found what it craved most; peace.

You stood before the mirror only once more that night, breathing evenly as Ridoc admired you over your shoulder.

"You're astonishing in this, Y/N." He said, his gaze drifting to your fingers that tugged and pulled the fabric. He slipped his jacket from his shoulders once more, draping it over your shoulders before kissing your cheek.

"I want you to feel comfortable, so if you want to wear this as another layer to your outfit; well, you're stunning either way."

Your heart swelled at his words, his actions. When you left for town that night, the jacket remained on -- but, once you began to feel colmfortable in your own skin, thinking of all the wonderful things Ridoc reminded you of earlier in the evening, you had the confidence to finally take it off.

✧･ﾟ: *

[fairytaleendingss]

That's So True

Summary: You love James but he loves Lily and all you can do is watch as he drifts away.

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Reader

CW: Lily Evans slander (I'm sorry! I love her so much but it just made sense for the context of the story!!), unrequited love, no happy ending.

In honour of the Gracie Abrams concert I'm going to tomorrow!

This turned out much sadder than I was intending. Let me know if I should write a part 2!

--

He was laughing. Really laughing, with his head thrown back and that signature goofy grin plastered on his face. Your brows furrowed as you watched them across the common room over your textbook. He was leaning in towards her, his eyes alight in a way that no one else but Lily could insight.

Lily Evans was the bane of your existence. She was perfect. Beautiful, smart, apparently funny too. She'd been the apple of James's eye ever since he started going to Hogwarts and the cause of your anguish for just as long.

James Potter was your best friend. He had been for some time now. Ever since you were paired together in Care of Magical Creatures in third year, the two of you just seemed to click.

It wasn't until two years later when you noticed the butterflies that began to flutter in your stomach when he was around, or the pulse of electricity that jolted through you when you touched. It was no secret that James was attractive, one of the most attractive boys in the school, in fact. And you found yourself more often then not getting caught up in admiring him whenever you spent time together as of late.

The only problem was, Lily. Beautiful, perfect, wonderful Lily. He loved her and you couldn't blame him. She was everything he could ask for and more. And the worst part was, you couldn't even hate her for it - as much as you wanted to. She'd been nothing but lovely to you.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You looked up to see that Remus had come to stand beside you. His gaze was following yours to where it fell on the happy couple. He sighed, his eyes filling with a pity that you didn't need or want from him.

"I'm fine," you told him stoically, shifting your gaze away and forcing a smile.

Remus could see right through it. He had a way of doing that. Of looking at someone and just somehow knowing what was going on inside their head.

"He's just another boy, you know," Remus muttered. "There'll be others."

"I know," your eyes shifted to the ground. "Doesn't make it hurt any less."

--

"Y/n wait!"

You were walking from your last class of the day, intent on taking a stroll through the grounds to clear your mind. School work had been hitting you hard recently, with NEWTs just around the corner. And the distraction of everything going on with James and Lily hadn't helped.

You sighed as you turned to see Lily rushing to catch up with you, James in tow. Your blood boiled as she sent you that sickeningly sweet smile of hers.

"James and I are going to study in the Library and we wanted to know if you'd join us."

You forced a grin and did your best to contain your contempt for the situation.

"Thanks for the offer but I already had study plans for this afternoon."

"Oh come on Y/n. I know you don't," James remarked. "Besides, we haven't had the chance to spend much time together recently. I miss you."

You sighed once more. He wasn't wrong. Once upon a time, it was you and James that studied together. You'd spend most of the time joking and laughing and complaining about how boring all the classwork was. But ever since he and Lily had gotten together, there hadn't been much time for any of that anymore.

He was spending all his time with her now, and you had fallen by the wayside in the process. It hurt almost as much as the heartbreak and if you were being honest, you missed him as well.

"Please!" Lily pleaded with you, noticing the look of hesitancy on your face. "We'd really love you to come with us."

"Okay, sure," you gave in. You didn't stand a chance when James gave you that hopeful look of his. The one that reminded you of a puppy ready to play.

"Yes! I knew you'd come around!" James cheered and absentmindedly threw his arm around your shoulders as the three of you turned and made your way to the library. Little did he know how much that one small action could make your heart race.

--

The Library was empty save for the three of you and the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. James was sat beside you, a book on Charms shared between the two of you. Lily sat across the table, writing her potions essay.

They kept glancing up when they thought you weren't looking, making eyes at each other every time you turned away. They thought you didn't notice but you did.

You noticed everything James did. Every soft, stolen glance, every pout that lined his lips, every time he ran his hand through his mattered curls when he was feeling overwhelmed. And you knew the look he gave her. It was the same look you wore when you looked at him.

Lily giggled and whispered "James, stop!" as he played footsies with her under the table. You swallowed the urge to roll your eyes. It was so disgustingly romantic. Everything was with James.

With a shallow breath you slid your chair backwards. You couldn't take anymore of this.

"What's going on?" James asked, wide eyed as you gathered your things.

"I'm just not feeling so well all of a sudden. I think I'm going to go."

You couldn't bring yourself to meet James' eyes. You knew they'd be full of worry and you couldn't afford to collapse to his will anymore.

"Are you okay?" that was Lily. Ever sweet and kind and gentle. You couldn't hate her. You shouldn't but you did.

"Yes, I'm fine." you mustered a smile even as tears began to burn in your eyes. You looked down at them, their expressions filled with concern and confusion as you made for a swift exit. They looked perfect together. Not even you could deny that.

"I'll see you guys later."

And with that you were gone, hurrying towards the library doors, hoping desperately to make it back to your dormitory before the tears began to fall.

Part of you had hoped that James would run after you. Grab you by the wrist and pull you into his arms, whispering that everything would be okay. But he didn't.

You looked back towards them once more. Lily had moved to take you chair beside James. She was brushing a strand of curls from his eyes the way you always used to.

The door fell shut behind you.

--

In the days following, you did your best to avoid James at all costs. He and Lily were practically attached at the hip and you couldn't bare to be around them anymore. He now stood as a reminder of everything you couldn't have and you knew your heart could no longer take it.

You didn't think he'd take much notice anyway. He had someone else to think about now.

You spent a lot of time crying. More time than you were happy to admit. Remus and Sirius had been good supports. Peter too, but he didn't really understand what was going on. Why your friendship group had suddenly been torn apart.

Instead of walking to classes with James, you'd get there early, taking a seat right up the front where you didn't have to look at him as he sat beside her, her hand gripped tightly in his larger one.

During lunch, you'd sit with Dorcas and Marlene. You'd laugh at their jokes and talk about mindless, unimportant topics and do your best to take your mind off him.

You no longer went with Remus to watch him and Sirius at Quidditch practice. He had someone else to cheer him on now, you were sure.

He wouldn't even miss you, you told yourself.

Little did you know, he did. He missed you so much it hurt. And no matter how many times he went over it in his mind, he still had no idea what he'd done wrong.

He'd tried to chase you down after class but you always left before he had the chance. He'd pleaded with Remus and Sirius to tell him what was going on, hoping his best friends had an insight into your mind but they told him they didn't know - even though he knew they did.

He saw you hanging out with other friends, looking lonely and lost and tired, but no matter what he did, he couldn't seem to fix it. You were avoiding him at every turn.

Everyone could see what it was doing to him - what it was doing to both of you. They could all tell that without each other, the two of you were just husks of your usual, vibrant selves.

Lily in particular could feel it. She saw her boyfriend wilting in your absence. And she felt powerless knowing she couldn't do anything to help.

--

You were sitting by the lake. There was a chill in the air. The icy wind whipped against your face but you didn't feel the cold.

In the distance you could see a storm brewing. Dark, rain clouds circled in the sky, reflecting off the crisp water of the Black Lake.

You came out here sometimes to think. Just to sit in the nature, away from the hustle and bustle of the castle. You didn't know how long you'd been there but it had been a while. You sat, by yourself, knees pressed against your chest, just observing.

"James told me I might find you here."

You looked up to see her.

She was standing in the grass beside you, her auburn hair flowing in the wind like she was a character in a movie. She was striking against the gloomy grey backdrop of the Scottish winter.

"He knows me well," you stated unemotionally, turning your gaze back to the water.

"Can I sit?"

"You can do whatever you like."

She hesitated for a moment, before taking a seat beside you. The air around you was frigid and cold and unwelcoming.

"What are you thinking about?"

She wasn't looking at you. She stared out at the lake and the sky and the mountains in the distance. As if the weight of her gaze was too invasive and privacy lingered in the lack of seeing.

"Nothing important," you told her. And it was true. He wasn't important anymore. Not now that he had her.

Silence hung heavy for a moment. A million unspoken words floated in the space between you.

"He misses you, you know?" her voice was soft and gentle, like she was scared to say the wrong thing and push you away.

"I don't see why he would."

"That's ridiculous. You're his best friend."

You sighed, turning to look at her finally. Her gaze was sad and pleading.

"Not anymore," the words fell from your lips like grains of sand in an hour glass. They trickled out quickly and easily and were swept away in the wind. "He hasn't had any time for me since he's been with you."

Lily didn't know what to say to that. Guilt was beginning to pool inside of her at the thought that she might have been the cause of all this chaos and discomfort.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to leave you behind."

"Yeah, but he did," your words were solemn and you couldn't stop the few tears that escaped as you said them. Like saying it aloud meant it became real. This really was the end for the two of you.

"He can fix it," Lily choked out, looking on the verge of tears herself. "He loves you."

You sighed, feeling drops of rain begin to fall on the top of your head.

"Not in the way I need him to."

With that, you stood and began to make your way back to the castle, away from Lily and away from these feelings that had been hanging over you for so long, like rainclouds threatening to burst and shower you in a downpour of emotion.

Your wiped your eyes as you walked. You were tired of feeling this. You were tired of being sad, of being jealous, of being in love.

Remus words rang like a bell inside your mind.

"He's just another boy."

That's so true, you thought to yourself.

[bennyboyfics]

Baby fever || Ben Shelton x gf!reader

Summary: what the title suggest, you getting baby fever when you and Ben visit your newborn niece :)

Wc: 1,104

Warnings: noneee just fluff 😍

MASTERLIST

-

You hadn’t expected to tear up the moment you stepped through your sister’s front door, but the second you caught sight of her curled on the couch with her newborn resting peacefully on her chest, your throat tightened. It wasn’t just the tiny fingers and sleepy sighs that got to you—it was the stillness of the room, the way everything seemed to pause around them.

Your sister, normally so animated and chatty, looked completely transformed. She was calm. Soft. Her whole world now narrowed to the baby girl she had in that that tiny swaddle of pale yellow cotton. Ben stood beside you, his arm brushing against yours. One large hand slid instinctively to the small of your back, grounding you.

He was quiet, taking it all in, his gaze glued to the baby like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. He’d never seen a newborn up close. You hadn’t either, not like this. Not in someone’s actual home—nestled in throw blankets and the faint scent of lavender detergent and warm milk. Your sister looked up and smiled at you both.

She looked tired, sure—but there was something so peaceful about her expression. “Wanna hold her?” You blinked fast, heart skipping. “Can I?” “Of course. Sit down, I’ll help.” Ben gave your waist a gentle squeeze. “Go on, babe,” he murmured. You hesitated for half a second, then moved slowly toward the couch.

Your sister passed her over carefully, guiding the tiny bundle into your arms, and the moment you felt that impossibly light weight settle against you, something inside you shifted. “She’s so small,” you whispered, staring at the miniature features—her barely-there eyebrows, the milk-sweet scent of her skin

“She’s perfect,” Ben said softly, settling against the armrest beside you, eyes glued to the baby’s face—and when you turned your head, his eyes were locked on the baby like she was something sacred. Her name was Elle. Just under seven pounds, born two days ago, with your sister’s nose and her dad’s mouth.

Her fingers curled instinctively around the edge of your sweater, her mouth parting in the beginning of a sleepy yawn, and you swore your whole body softened. You didn’t look up until you felt Ben’s gaze on you, and when you did, you found him watching you with a look that made your breath catch. He was smiling—but it was more than that.

It was like he was seeing something new. “What?” you asked, cheeks warming. He tilted his head, grinning a little. “You look really good with a baby in your arms.” Your stomach flipped. “Ben…” “I’m serious,” he said, his voice softer now. “You look like a natural.” You looked back down at Elle and felt the ache settle into your chest—the soft, sweet kind that made your brain whisper someday… someday… Ben reached out and ran one knuckle gently down Elle’s cheek, his touch so tender it made your breath hitch.

She stirred, shifting gently in your arms, and you rocked her instinctively, already attached. “She’s beautiful,” he said. “Your sister did good.” You smiled. “I can’t believe she’s a mum now,” you murmured. “We used to play house with dolls, and now she’s actually doing it.” You looked back at him. “Do you ever think about it?” Ben raised a brow. “Think about what?” “Having kids.”

He smiled a little, gaze dropping to your lap—then back to your face, his voice steady. “Yeah. Sometimes.” You tried to keep your voice casual. “With me?” His head turned sharply, like you’d just yanked his attention back to earth. He stared at you for a moment—soft brown eyes searching your face—and then said, “Only with you.” The answer hit you right in the chest—simple, honest, and devastating in the best way.

“Look at you,” your sister teased from across the room, her eyes half-lidded from exhaustion but still sharp. “You’re the one with baby fever now.” You let out a small laugh. “I didn’t mean to. She’s just… look at her.” Ben leaned in and pressed a kiss to the side of your head. “You’re gonna be such a good mum someday,” he murmured, lips brushing your hair. You swallowed hard and nodded, hoping he couldn’t see how glassy your eyes had gotten again.

Later, after Elle was settled back in her bassinet in the corner of the room and your sister drifted off for a much-needed nap, you and Ben stepped out onto the front porch for some air. Your hands found each other’s automatically, fingers twined. He tugged you closer, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. “You okay?”

You nodded, then sighed. “Yeah. I just didn’t expect it to… hit me like that.” Ben chuckled. “You were glowing in there.” You gave him a playful nudge. “I didn’t mean to get baby fever.” He turned to face you fully, his voice low. “You don’t have to apologise. You want kids—we want kids. That’s not something to be afraid of.”

You blinked up at him, a little stunned by how sure he sounded. “You’re sure?” Ben smiled and reached up to cup your cheek. “Babe. If it were up to me, we’d already be picking out nursery colours.” You laughed, then caught your breath. “I mean… not yet, right?” He grinned.

“No, no. We’ve got time. I just know that when it happens—when it’s our turn—I’m gonna love the hell out of it. And you.” You leaned into his hand, heart full. “Me too.” Later that night, back at your apartment, you curled into Ben on the couch, your head on his chest, his arm around you. “I keep thinking about how tiny her fingers were,” you whispered.

He kissed your temple. “You’ll have your own to hold someday.” You tilted your head to look up at him. “Promise?” He smiled. “Yeah. I promise.”

[more-mara]

Choscar lesbians 🙂‍↕️

“You’ve had months to say something, yet you’ve chosen to do it now? Today of all days!” Oscar seethed, the strap of her dress falling down with the flamboyancy of her hand gestures. Charles wished the sudden exposed bit of skin draped by the silk of her dress wasn’t as attractive as it was.

“I didn’t- how could I?” Charles shouted back, her own dress feeling suffocating all of a sudden- suddenly cursing herself for choosing such a tight number.

“How could- Charles, what? You do realise there is nothing I can do about this?” Oscar continued, her chest rising and falling rapidly beneath her gown. Oscar looked ethereal- in Charles’ opinion, only dampened by the fact that Oscar’s rage was directed at her.

“I know! Don’t you think this hasn’t been fucking killing me? Watching you- watching you off with him,” Charles shouted and that had Oscar turning around in disbelief, a scoff dropping from her pretty red lips as her hands found their way onto the sweet dips of her waist.

“He proposed months ago, Charles. Back when you said this couldn’t happen,” Oscar hissed, pointing between the two of them. Charles couldn’t help but think, that despite the absolute rage seeping from every ounce of Oscar’s body, she looked gorgeous. Like a muse- a face men would go to war over, a body that could never be captured in paintings, even by the most talented and skilled of artists.

She didn’t realise she was staring, not until Oscar was right up in her face. Only then did Charles see the tears in Oscar’s eyes.

“He is nothing- he’ll never be good enough for you,” Charles said and Oscar seemed to flinch at the words- her bottom lip wobbling.

“I love him,”

“You love the idea of him,”

Charles felt it the moment the air changed- the moment where Oscar sagged back against the balcony, defeated. But Charles kept going.

“You love that he’s a man, you love that he is everything your family wanted for you in a husband, you love that he is Nobel and kind and basically the perfect guy. But you know what you don’t love? Him. You don’t love him, because he’s not me,”

“Charles-“ Oscar’s voice cracked immediately, nothing able to get past the barrier of hurt in her chest.

Fuck, she was even beautiful when she cried.

“I- I should never have let you say yes,” Charles said, stepping closer as Oscar just continued to cry- her makeup long smudged but somehow she still looked as perfect as ever.

“So why did you?” Oscar asked, and there was anger there now- her eyes blazing despite the tears clouding them.

“I was scared,”

“And I wasn’t? I have a husband now, I cannot- we cannot keep doing this,”

Charles couldn’t help but scan the expanse of Oscar’s body, decorated to high hell in white and glitter. Her gorgeous ballgown of a dress that hugged her in just the right places. The prettiest bride in the country.

The prettiest woman in the world.

That man would never make her happy.

“Charles, fucking listen to me!” Oscar snapped, pushing herself away from the balcony until she was in Charles’ space again, her hands desperate as they clinged to Charles’ exposed shoulders.

“Please-“ whatever Oscar wanted to say was long forgotten as Charles grabbed Oscar by her jewel adorned waist and kissed her the way she knew Oscar liked it. The way she knew no man could ever replicate.

Oscar’s little gasp was music to Charles’ ears as she deepened the kiss, pushing Oscar back until she was flush against the balcony once more.

Oscars hands gripped a little tighter on Charles before she pulled away from the kiss- panting and flushed and all round beautiful.

“We can leave- run away. Just us,” She panted, eyes frantic as he looked around to make sure no one had been in the gardens to see them.

“Oscar-“

“We can. Please- it’ll be just us,” She whispered, fingers reaching to comb through the dark curls that hung over Charles’ breasts.

“I never took you for a runaway bride,”

“You never took me at all,” Oscar said, a smirk on her face before she leaned into Charles’ ear, breathing against her chilled skin before speaking again.

“But maybe we could change that,”

Charles’ eyes widened as she tightened her grip on Oscar, her own face flushing brightly despite the cool breeze of the night air.

“You mean-“

“If we leave tonight, I’ll let you make love to me,”

[panda-writes-kpop]

Ah, I see you stan Wonyoung. I’m writing something for her I wanna publish. Would you write something for Wonyoung in the future? 👁️👁️ I’m not making a request because I’m too shy and you’re probably very busy.

honey, you're familiar ~ jng. wnyg.

a/n: I was going to post this earlier, but I decided to try making a banner for a while and uh... it didn't work out too well 😭 all is well, I'll continue to hone my skills and try again later. Also, the semester is finally over!!! and we cheered!!! and I know the anon didn’t specifically ask for a fic but I had a idea come to mind and it was just PERFECT for her. ❤️ so yes, I will write for wonyoung! And you should feel free to request from me - I'm very open to taking requests from anyone who asks!

tw: creepy/horror vibes.

♡ Masterlist ♡

summary/word count: Everything's more romantic in the movies than in real life, and you're prone to agree after a certain character from your short story comes to life; 3.1k words.

“Can you tell me another story?”

“Another one? It’s already past your bedtime, and I don’t need to get in any more trouble with your parents-” You try to get up from the child-sized bed, but they tug you back down before you can get too far.

What are you, a miniature Hulk?

“Please?” The kid you’re babysitting gives you the most cliché pup dog eyes and the fakest frown you’ve ever seen.

You should be a responsible adult and deny their request, wish them goodnight, and close the door before returning to the movie that’s awaiting you in the living room. 

Lucky for the kid, you’re only responsible before 9:00 p.m., and the clock behind you reads 9:01.

“One more story, okay?” You sigh while racking your brain for stories that would interest a six-year-old. “Alright, I’ve got one.”

They lean closer in excitement as you begin to tell your story.

“Once upon a time, there was a young child who needed to go to bed and a babysitter who wanted them to go to sleep before the kid’s parents got home.” You smile as they whine in refusal of your story. “What, you didn’t like that one?”

“That’s not fair!” They stick their lip out before lightly tugging on your sleeve. “Just one more, then I’ll go to bed. I promise!”

“Okay, okay!” You shake them off of you before looking up to the ceiling. “I’m going to tell you a real story this time.”

“You promise?” They stick out their pinky, and you reluctantly give them your pinky.

They pull away and tuck themselves back into bed as you try to think of a story that would fully entertain the child in your head.

Unfortunately for you, there’s nothing in your mind besides the creative writing assignment that you’re delaying for one of your university classes.

Maybe you can kill two birds with one stone?

~

You don’t remember when the person in the mirror stopped looking like you. Maybe it was years past, when you were a child, where you disappeared from the reflection in front of you. 

Somewhere, deep in your mind, there’s a memory of you as a child asking your parents about it, and they dismissed your concerns as a “childish memory”. 

Nowadays, as a full grown adult, it’s embarrassing to admit why you don’t look in the mirror. Most say it’s self-esteem issues, but you know that it’s more than that.

Especially when the woman who stares back at you is enchantingly beautiful. 

You’ve always been so star-struck by her beauty, so it’s never occurred to you to actually talk to her. To ask her why she’s there, why she’s only looked at you for so long? Why did she choose you as the one she stares back at?

It takes a lot of courage to pull the blanket off of the mirror - what if today is the day that your reflection returns back to you? - but you did it anyway.

An odd feeling of relief pools inside of you when you stare back at the kind face that admires you. Every question bounces inside of your head, and you struggle to form a coherent sentence at the sight of her.

For the first time, her movements don’t copy yours. She raises her hand against the mirror, and tilts her head towards you.

“You don’t have to say anything, dearest. I already know everything inside of your mind.”

Your jaw nearly drops to the floor at her confession, and she softly laughs.

“It’s unfair that I know everything about you, and you know nothing about me. Wouldn’t you like to change that?” Her other hand rests on the other side of the mirror as you let go of the blanket that you’ve been holding.

“Yeah…” 

As if in a trance, you approach the mirror until you’re mere inches from her face.

If she was a real person, you think, she’d be able to reach out and grab me!

Your hand reaches out to mirror hers, but you pause for a moment.

“Why me?” You whisper, unable to look away from her.

“Why not you?” 

You can’t stop your hand from pressing against the glass mirror, reflecting hers, just as she has done for you. 

“You won’t believe what I can show you…” She trails off before offering you a sincere smile. “I’m Wonyoung, by the way.”

Before you can respond with your own name, her hand reaches out of the mirror’s reflection and grabs yours.

~

“They were frightened, far beyond their wildest imagination, but then-” You pause to look down at the sleeping child next to you. “How long have you been out?”

You give them a gentle poke, to make sure that they’re not faking, before turning off the lamp next to you and closing the door.

I should probably write down my story before I forget it.

As quickly and quietly as you can, you maneuver your way back into the living room where your neglected laptop sits, along with a random movie that happened to be in the DVD player when you pressed play.

You don’t realize how creepy the story is until the beginning stares back at you - are you liable for childhood trauma if you accidentally give that kid nightmares?

Eh, it wasn’t that bad when I said it. This version is more fitting for an adult audience.

Your stomach grumbles as you look at the time on your phone.

When did it get so close to midnight?

The nice thing about house sitting and babysitting for a family friend is that you were more than welcome to take what you wanted from the pantry, along with your hourly pay. 

As you make your way to the kitchen, you realize that you forgot to turn on the hallway light. You opt to use your cellphone as you approach the kitchen. On your right, just before you reach the kitchen, is a mirror that is strikingly similar to the one you wrote about.

Spooky.

You pay it no mind as you pass into the kitchen, but the reflection in the mirror watches you with intrigue as you decide what you want to snack on.

~

You should panic, like any normal person would do, but a scream won’t escape your throat.

Won’t, or do you refuse to scream because some dark, twisted part of you wants to know what would happen next?

It’s too late to dwell on the past when her other hand reaches through the mirror and grabs your free hand.

“Are you ready?”

“...Sure?” Your answer lacks any sort of confidence and conviction, but it doesn’t look like Wonyoung was looking for approval as she pulls you into the mirror.

You close your eyes, while you await the pain of a mirror meeting your face, but, to your surprise…

Nothing happens?

You dare to open your eyes, and a gasp of surprise leaves your throat.

“Where am I?” You look around frantically at the unfamiliar scenery.

You’re no longer in your home, but rather, a small dorm room that’s decorated in every shade of pink that you could dream of. There’s a small window that reveals the outside world, but you’re far too focused on the woman in front of you to notice anything outside.

“Home.” Wonyoung says with a hint of relief in her voice. “You’re finally home.”

“Home? My home was just back…” You turn around to face the mirror, but only your reflection stares back at you. “What is this?”

“You don’t remember, do you? That awful spell from that terrible woman… it took your memories away from you as well?” Tears threaten to fall from her eyes as she backs away from you. “I’m sorry, maybe it was a mistake to bring you back so soon.”

She tries to pull away from you, but you grab her hands and pull her towards you again.

“Please explain it all to me. If there’s something I’m forgetting, then I want to remember it all.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

~

“Morning, kiddo,” You hum just as the waffles pop out of the toaster, “you’re just in time.” 

“Mom’s not back?” They rub the sleep out of their eyes as you attempt to plate the waffles without burning your hand.

Your attempt is unsuccessful - apparently a household toaster can harness the power of the fucking Sun - so you do your best not to curse out the toaster before carefully tossing the waffles onto a small plate.

“Yeah, your mom and dad won’t be back until Sunday.” You nurse your injuries by running cold tap water on your fingers. “By the way, did you get into the fridge last night?”

“No,” They shake their head. “I was in my room all night. Are you sure you didn’t get into the fridge?”

“Of course not! I was sleeping!” You scoff as they raise an eyebrow at you. “Okay, I was busy writing for a few hours and I did raid the pantries, but I didn’t touch the fridge!”

“Uh-huh…” Unconvinced, the kid begins to eat the waffles you serve them as you look in the fridge and sigh.

“I was going to give you some strawberries, but someone came through and ate what was left in the package.” You shrug your shoulders and toss the container into the garbage bin. “Maybe it was a ghost…”

You have to bite down on your lip, hard, in order to not laugh at the kid’s spooked expression.

“Scary ghosts?”

“No, not scary ghosts. More like the lady in the story I told you last night. A mischievous ghost, sure, but one that wants to help rather than harm.” You serve the kid some orange juice before grabbing water for yourself.

“Oh, I like her! She came to visit me last night.” They casually say as you turn around to face them.

“I’m sorry, did you just say what I think you just said?”

~

“Witches? You can’t be serious, right? I mean, I just live in a world where I go to work, pay bills, and live a normal, human life.”

“I’m afraid this is all true. You were a witch, just like me, until someone cursed you and pulled you away from this world - away from me.” Wonyoung moves closer to you as you sit on her dorm bed.

Her hand brushes over yours, as if she’s afraid to touch you. If this is hard on you, then she must be crushing under the pressure. Wanting to see you, be with you, for years on end but not being sure if she should reach out to you just yet.

“I’m sorry that I don’t remember more.” Your hand dares to grab hers in an attempt to comfort her instead of the other way around. “It’s just hard to believe. I’ve been a human for so long that this magic seems so…”

“Surreal?” Her fingers interlock with yours as she smiles at you. “Look down.”

You look at your hand, firmly in hers, and gasp at the trail of blue light that falls down your hand.

Wonyoung’s arm radiates red light, and where your hands meet, a beautiful shade of purple lights up the space between you two.

~

Usually, it wasn’t a struggle to stay awake during your Monday afternoon class, but two long nights with a small child drained most of the energy out of you. Without any caffeine, your eyelids were fighting your will to pay attention, and the latter was in a losing battle. 

“Alright, I’ll be ending class early so you can enjoy the beautiful weather!” The professor announces, and not a moment later, your classmates pack up and head out of the room.

You’re a bit delayed to follow, but you manage to not be the last in line to leave the class as you try to exit the class.

Your professor, however, has other plans as they call out your name.

“Do you mind staying after class?”

Absolutely not because that’s terrifying, your thoughts say.

“Sure.” Is all that comes out of your mouth as you’re terrified to say anything more.

The rest of your classmates leave as you hang back with the professor.

“I have to say, I’m very impressed with your paper. I don’t easily give out one-hundreds, you know,” Your professor gives you an earnest smile that you match with an uneasy one of your own. “But I have to ask: what inspired the story?”

“You’re not going to believe this,” or like it, you think as this professor has lectured your class on not submitting things right before they are due, “but I was inspired to write the story after I told a similar story to a kid I was babysitting.”

They raise their eyebrow.

“You didn’t give them nightmares, right?”

“The story I told was more age-appropriate.” You feel yourself begin to relax as the praise truly sinks in. “Thank you for the compliments on my story.”

“If you’re interested in continuing it, I’d love to help.” 

“I, uh…” You pause before tilting your head and staring out the window that faces the courtyard.

You see your reflection, just as it should be, but something beyond the window catches your eye.

It isn’t something - it’s a girl.

A black-haired girl who was enchantingly beautiful. A face you couldn’t forget because you had written about it for hours on end.

And she waves at you.

“Are you alright?” The professor catches your attention as your eyes focus back on them.

“Yeah, I’ll… think about it. Thanks for the offer, though.” You quickly exit the room, not before giving a quick look back at the window. 

Wonyoung isn't there anymore, but was she even there in the first place?

~

“This place… it’s beautiful. I can’t believe that I would forget a place like this.” Wonyoung’s arm latches onto yours as you stare in awe at the tree in front of you. It’s covered in purple leaves that match every other tree that you can see. “My campus never looks like this.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Warmth spreads across her face as she admires you for a moment. “Nothing is coming to you?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

“Then can you allow me to show you something else?” 

Curiously, you try to peer over her shoulder as she pulls up something on her phone. As politely as she can, she pushes you away before you return your gaze to the sky.

“Hiding something, are we?” You try to tease her, but it’s a half-hearted attempt.

She’s sweet beyond your wildest dreams, and selfless on top of everything - trying to bring you back after you had been gone for months, if not years.

“From you? Never.” Wonyoung hands you her phone, and as you scroll through the pictures, she looks at you with anticipation.

It’s just a normal gallery of photos that a 20-year-old would have on her phone, and it’s nothing out of the ordinary until you stumble on a picture of the two of you.

Then it all comes racing back. 

Nights spent curled up together, studying for finals. Small outings with large groups of friends. Practicing spells from sunset to sunrise.

“You remember, right? We were friends.” A small tear falls down her cheek when you softly nod.

But you remember more than that.

Hands being held underneath the library desk. Knowing looks shared in lecture halls. Stolen moments away from the friend group. Slumber party make-outs under the disguise of drunken inhibition. A final kiss, one of good luck, before you were to part forever.

Just friends? Is that what you were to each other?

“Friends?” Your voice falters for a moment as you weigh the two options in your mind. “I thought we were lovers.”

~

You don’t know what compels you to write another ending to the story you wrote. Maybe it’s the weird vision you had this afternoon, or the rising feeling of dread that’s pooling in you.

What if my professor thinks I’m weird and judges me differently? Now I’ll never be able to have a one-on-one conversation with them without thinking about THAT incident.

That girl in the window, it couldn’t have been Wonyoung. Some poor kid was probably looking into a classroom during their tour of campus, and you probably scared them off. And then there was the incident last weekend with the kid you babysat seeing her - you thoroughly examined their room, only to find no sign of their nighttime visitor. 

Also, Wonyoung is just a character you made up in your head. A make-believe story for a small child and your professor.

Why, then, did it feel so real?

For some reason, you haven’t looked in the mirror in your apartment. You’re terrified of what you’ll find, to say the least. What if she is staring back at you? What if she isn’t? What then?

This seemed much more romantic in the story you wrote. You were downright terrified at the possibility of a girl existing in your reflection, in a parallel world, who was so desperately in love with you that she would dedicate a good portion of her free time to free you.

Okay, so maybe your professor did have a point about you traumatizing that poor kid…

One part of you tells you to stop freaking out, and to walk over there and face whatever is staring you down on the other side. The other, more rational, part of you is telling you to run for the hills and never look back until you pass out or forget that any of this has happened.

Like any horror movie character that was doomed for death, the irrational, curious part of your brain wins out as you gently set your computer aside.

Nothing will get you. You’re safe inside of your apartment.

You repeat this mantra as you dread every step between you and the bathroom mirror. Your footsteps feel heavy, and your heartbeat pounds at a steady rhythm as you slowly approach the bathroom.

You flip the light on, and as you look into the mirror, a breath of relief escapes you.

Thankfully, it’s just me.

All of it was just inside of your head, luckily.

Then a hand appears on your shoulder, and you scream as loud as you can.

The figure behind you doesn’t move nor flinch. They simply tilt their head in anticipation as they wait for you to turn around and look them in the eyes.

But you don’t have to.

Not when you know exactly who’s there.

Still, you play her little game and do your best to not freak out as you come eye-to-eye with the girl in your story: Jang Wonyoung.

The smile she gives you doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“I missed you, darling.”

[nicolewritesthings]

Lost Love - blurb

Summary: You and Steve love each other but have too much life ahead of you to make it work

a/n: had the initial break up on my mind, so here’s this little angsty piece. Can be read as a stand alone or a little insert for the Lost Love series

Steve Harrington x fem!reader, short break up angst :(

Summer 1986

The summer air still warms the night, even as the days draw nearer to fall. A night like tonight shouldn’t be this beautiful, you think, looking up at the clear sky. The stars bright and all knowing, ready for the rest of your life to begin.

You and Steve sit on the curb in front of your house. Knees knocking against another just to remind yourselves that you’re there. That you’re really having this conversation. That you’re doing this.

“They have good schools in Chicago,” he says, a last ditch effort to change your mind without blatantly asking you to do that.

“Steve,” you whine, “I made my decision months ago.”

“I know,” was all he could muster, because he did know this was coming. He knew you got into your dream school and would move to New York. Steve was preparing himself for this moment - not enough, clearly, too wrapped up on the perfect summer he had with you. Borrowed time.

But now, hours before you and your parents would set out on a road trip to the east coast, you wish Steve would ask you to stay.

You had made up your mind months ago, when you finally committed to Columbia. You told Steve you were leaving and he was excited for you, really. This was your dream and it wasn’t like you two were really together. Just two young people in love. With the rest of their lives ahead of them. And oh, you were so ready for the next chapter to begin. You wanted to leave Hawkins and all the pain that came with it.

But you weren’t ready to leave him.

“Maybe we can keep this up, you know, I’ll be home for Christmas break,” you said, spitballing at this point.

Steve shook his head, “you’re spending it at your sister’s this year. You told me that.”

“Oh, right,” you hug your knees to your chest, “then I’ll come home for Spring break. That’s only-“

Then Steve’s saying your name, grasping your hands into his. He’s gentle as he holds you, looking into your eyes. You notice how red his eyes look as they begin to tear up.

Steve’s not sure what to say next. He wishes you’d ask him to come with you. He’d move across the world if you’d ask. But you don’t and you wouldn’t, he thinks. This is your dream life you’re about to embark on and you’ve made it clear that you want nothing to do with Hawkins anymore. Not after everything.

So he says what he thinks you want to hear, “You’ll go and I’ll stay.”

You look away from him, the tears forming in your eyes. You suck in your bottom lip as Steve squeezes your hands.

“I’ll always be here,” he continues with a shaky voice, “you know that.”

You suck in a cry, squeezing his hands as you pull him into a deep hug, your actions communicating more than you two ever could.

You’re not sure why you two didn’t make it work that day. Either of you could have said what you were really thinking, what you really wanted. But it would have been too soon. You and Steve have been good for each other, and maybe it’s because you’re too young or because you’ve already been through too much. But it’s not your time and maybe it never will be.

———————

a/n: I’m almost done with the final part for Lost Love, so stay tuned for that :)

tags: @httpazxnth @wwylmlive @xaimary @dogstarbytes @micheledawn1975 @ortega29 @djodirt @ahead-fullofdreams

[taeswifeisikram]

Chapter 2 - We meet again

Y/N POV

What does he mean by ‘handle it..?’ whatever he’s probably just joking with me. “No sir please let me take you out to coffee someday!” He responds “We’ll see about that. I have to go see you soon pretty girl.” I feel my heart skip a beat when the compliment leaves his mouth. He quickly shuffles past my body, leaving me with widened eyes and an open mouth. “Wait I didn’t get your name or number!!”and just like that he’s gone.

I finally make it home after a long day of running around doing countless errands. The smell of freshly baked pasta enters my nostrils as I travel past my living room straight to the kitchen. My mother’s voice speaks out to me “Y/N, come say hello to our guest!” A guest? No one told me we would have company. I would’ve dressed better for the occasion as I’m still in my blue washed jeans, and a black tight fitting long sleeve.

I slowly step over to the dining room. My eyes lurking until they finally meet with the familiar dark seductive eyes from earlier. He had beautiful unmarked tan skin. He wore a wore a black full suit with the first two buttons of his white button up undone, exposing a gold chain laid onto his neck.

His body turns to me scanning me up and down with a smirk placed on his face. The same man from earlier was now sitting right next to my sister, and directly across from both my parents. Okay now what the hell was going on. With a small smile I slowly step over and take a seat at the head of the dining table. “Y/N don’t be rude greet him.” my mother says as she gestures to the handsome man.

I flash my best fake smile “I’m Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.”

That same familiar raspy voices calls back out to me, “Likewise, my names Kim Taehyung.” He reaches his hand out to me, indicating a hand shake. His hands are warm, soft, calloused as I can tell he works. He shakes my hand but then keeps it there for almost 10 seconds just staring into my eyes. I clench my thighs as his stare intimidates me.

Unfortunately, our eye contact is cut short as my father lets out a cough breaking the silence. “You see Y/N, Mr. Kim here will be marrying your sister Melissa. He’s 29, owns his own business and is perfect for your sister.” This cannot be real. This breathtaking man is marrying MY SISTER? My older sister Melissa who is now 27, used to be my best friend, we were inseparable. That was until she started seeing everything as a competition. This included grades, sports, praise, even our parents love. The more approval I got the more and more she resented me.

I never thought badly of her though she was my sister how could I. She never tells me anything including that she was planning on getting MARRIED. Melissa finally speaks out “Yes, the weddings in July and me and Tae-bear are just thrilled!” My face immediately cringes at the pet name. Seriously Tae-bear?

“That’s great, how did you and Mr. Kim meet?” I can’t help but question out of curiosity. I mean seriously where did this all come from. My father remarks “Taehyung is a business partner of mine and he was already looking for a wife, I recommend Melissa and they already look like a great couple.”

“Yes, they do,” I lie straight through my teeth. Of course I wanted to be happy for my sister but the thought of her marrying a guy she first, barley even knows. Second he doesn’t even look too pleased to be marrying her. My mind blocks out all the chatter in the background as I zone out on Taehyung. His side profile so sharp, high defined cheekbones, and damn that chiseled jaw.

He was devishly handsome.

I zone out of my thoughts when a voice calls out to me. “So how old are you Ms. Y/N?” That same deep voice questions me. “You can just call me Y/N, and im 19.” I say confidently. “I’m surprised.” he says calmly with a sense of hidden meaning behind his words. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I respond with sass. “Well, you seem more mature for your age, that’s all.” I nod and return back to eating the pasta sitting in front of me. Suddenly a strong knee brushes against mine. The friction of the clothes rubbing against each other, made me think about how it would feel without the layers blocking our bodies. This causes me to choke on the pasta and cough visiciously. I try to call out for some water but it causes me to choke even more. Immediately Taehyung rushes to my side wrapping his muscular arms around my small waist, slightly above my belly button. His chest pressed against my back. “Stay calm, let me help.” He demands. He presses into me, thrusting upward into my stomach. In one swift motion I manage to cough out the pasta. He loosens his arms around me, but he stays pressed against me. His tall build almost hovering over me, his thighs meeting my behind, I can almost feel his imprint through his pants. I look over my shoulder, “T-Thank you so much.” He saved my life. “No need glad I could help.” “Oh my goodness honey are you okay?” My mother questions in worry. “Yeah I’m fine mom, thanks to Mr. Kim.” “She was probably faking it, that attention seeker.” My clearly jealous sister rolls her eyes. “You can let go now.” I ask of the tall man. He leans down meeting his lips to my ear, “You sure you want that sweetheart.” Before I can respond he lets go and takes his seat next to my sister with a stank look on her face. “Well I’m heading back up to my room,” I announce. My parents dismiss me with goodbyes and I turn to Taehyung and Melissa. “I guess I’ll see you soon Mr. Kim” “Yes, very soon,” he reprimands with that same darn smirk. Exiting myself from the room I go up the stairs to my only happy place. My room. I change into a sleep set of silk pajama shorts and a silk tank top. I chill on my bed for about an hour until I hav ego get up and use the bathroom. I quietly step out of my room as the house sounds awfully silent. I guess Mr. Kim went home. I travel down the corridor until ONCE AGAIN I bump into something or should I say someone. Seriously how could a girl be so clumsy. I look up and apologize, “I am so sorry I was not watching where I was— oh Mr. Kim its you again.” “This gives me deja vu of earlier don’t you think.” His places his hand against the wall right by my head almost leaning on top of me. “Yeah, haha you’ve saved me quite a lot today.” I lean closer into his bodies as we fit like a puzzle piece. “I can think of some ways on how you can repay me.” He grins. “Yeah l-like what?” He places his hand under my chin lifting my head to be at level with his. He whispers out,“You’ll find out soon Gongjunim.” (Princess) Hearing him speak a language foreign to me gave me butterflies as I felt a heat washing over my body. His face comes closer to mine remaining intense eye contact. I don’t even think to look away from his gaze. Just as our noses are about to touch the sound of footsteps coming our way interrupt. He lets go leaning back acting like nothing was going on. “I guess we’ll continue this another time Gongjunim.” He brushes past against me starting to walk towards the oncoming footsteps. I turn around facing his back “Wait! What does that mean?” “Once again you’ll find out soon.” He disappears into the dark hallway. I finally make my way to the bathroom. “God did he have to be so mysterious all the time” I say to myself. I’m now left hot, aroused, and bothered with no one to fulfill my desires with. If only Mr. kim- what am I thinking he’s 10 years older than you, not to mention ENGAGED to your sister.

2 hours later, 11 pm

Taehyung POv She looked so vulnerable under my touch. I will have her and I’ll make sure of it. No matter what, no one will get it my way. I walk past a slightly ajar room, I peek in and see her perfect body in that sleep set. The silk cloth clings to her body. Tan skin unmarked and flawless. I can’t wait to for her to be under me screaming my name…