#so here is something where they are happy

[bweeeb]

HAWAII SOLUTIONS

Dbf Joel Miller × Reader

Summary: If your dad can fuck someone younger, so can you, maybe his hot best friend?

warnings: dirt, sex in public but without public, age gap, smut, I'm not fluent in English so I apologize for mistakes,

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Vacation. My dad said I needed a vacation when I decided to drop out of business school. That’s how I ended up here. In Hawaii.

The beach was stunning, the food was amazing, and nothing beats sleeping in hotel beds—but then there was them. My dad, his girlfriend—Addison, who was disgustingly just two years older than me—and, of course, his best friend, Joel. Fucking Joel Miller.

He was a problem, but not the kind that made me want to rip my hair out—or his.

Addison, now she was a problem. Everywhere. At home—loud, at college—loud, on the plane—loud. That bitch is loud everywhere, trust me. I was always sure she was with my dad for the money, the Gucci bags, and the tuition he paid for. Which was ridiculous. And yet, here she was in Hawaii.

‘You’re too tense.’

Joel said it as he lay back on the lounge chair next to mine on the beach.

He’d been my problem since I was fifteen. Seven years later, I was still here, looking at him like he was some Greek god. Well, I’d be damned if he wasn’t, lounging there while I sat stiffly, watching the way-too-happy couple by the water.

‘I’m not,’

I mumbled.

‘You should hate her less. And him too—he’s trying.’

‘Come on, Joel. Don’t do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘Say that crap. He’s a hypocrite. I could never be with someone the way he’s with her.’

I huffed and rolled my eyes.

‘She makes him happy.’

He said, and I just stayed quiet. ‘Why’d you drop out of college?’

I shrugged without looking at him. That bastard reached over, his thick fingers pressing into my cheeks, forcing me to look at him.

‘Look at me and stop acting like a child.’

‘I’m not,’ I hissed through gritted teeth. He was shirtless under an open blue dress shirt, chest hair trailing down into those red swim trunks, and god, I could ride that nose for hours.

‘There she is, looking at me,’

he teased, and my cheeks flushed. He smiled.

‘Now tell me.’

‘She distracts me.’

I kept it short, especially since his hand was now grazing my collarbone and neck, back and forth in the sweetest little touch.

‘How does she distract you? I thought you liked men ’

' Shut up old man ' I teased him and saw his jaw tighten

' I'm fucking 45 you brat '

' Oh, so you can still get an erection to fuck me?'

' Continue where you were'

‘Everyone knows about him. They talk. She flaunts being with one of us and spending all our money. It bothers me.’

‘You should tell him.’

‘Like he’d believe me. You know him, you know exactly what he’d say.’

‘Unfortunately, I do, sweetheart.’

Joel looked down for a second, then back at me. ‘But you know… you could flip the script.’

‘What do you mean?’

Now it was him who shrugged. I laughed.

‘I mean, you’re 22. Want revenge? Take it. You’re in Hawaii.’

‘He’d kill me if I slept with someone.’

‘ Put the blame on daddy issues,’ Joel said playfully, and I laughed louder.

‘Fuck you.’

‘Watch your mouth, young lady.’

He scolded me, and I stuck out my tongue. He smiled at me.

Oh, I was seeing something all right—or maybe just fantasizing about him naked again.

‘Hey, you two! Come back to the room, let’s reserve dinner. You joining us?’

My dad called out as he walked toward us with his way-too-young girlfriend.

‘Sure,’ Joel answered, removing his hands from me and sitting up.

As they left the beach, I smiled at Joel and stood up, squinting down at him.

‘What?’

‘You shouldn’t wear a shirt at the beach.’ I put my hands on my hips.

‘I do what I want, I’m a grown man, doll.’

‘Well, so am I—grown, I mean.’

With that, I walked over and sat on his lap like I had no damn filter. Joel grunted, not touching me until I rolled my eyes and pulled his hands to my body.

‘You shouldn’t wear a dress to the beach either.’

‘It’s a cover-up,’ I muttered, but smiled right after. ‘But since you insist…’

I pulled it over my head, silently thanking myself for choosing my smallest bikini today. Joel’s eyes dropped to my chest, and I slowly unbuttoned his shirt until he was bare-chested.

‘We should go for a swim’

I suggested.

‘It’s getting dark.’

‘Even better.’

I stood, swaying my hips as I headed toward the water and the setting sun. I heard Joel mutter a fuck’s sake before he ran after me, grabbing me by the waist and tossing me over his shoulder.

‘Joel! Don’t you dare throw me, are you listening—'

‘Too late, sweetheart.’

The cold water shocked my skin, and I screamed. Then screamed again when strong arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

‘I think I want my revenge,’

I whispered, as Joel pressed wet kisses to my salty skin.His tongue circled my neck like I was some kind of delicious ice cream. As my body warmed up, I turned to face him, wrapping my legs around his waist and feeling his hard-on through my bikini.

‘I can’t fuck you. Fuck,’

he groaned, running his hands along my body.

‘Then why’d you say that?’

I whined, clinging to him.

‘Baby girl…’

‘Let’s just… do something. I just want to feel you.’

I pulled his cock out of his shorts, stroked him a few times, and then sank down on him.

‘What are you doing?’

His voice was low, breathless.

‘Mmm.’

I moaned with my eyes closed, clenching around him.

‘I just wanted to feel you inside me.’

‘Ah, baby. We can’t do this here.’

He shifted slightly, which made his cock slide deeper into my slick pussy. Fuck, I wanted him to wreck me right there.

‘Fuck, you’re so tight. Your sweet little pussy. Fuck my life.’

He groaned, eyes closed. Then a shout broke the spell.

‘Hey! What are you two still doing out there?’

My dad’s voice from the shore.

‘Why are you clinging to him?’

Because your best friend’s cock is buried in your little girl’s pussy.

‘I think there are crabs out here!’ I yelled.

‘She got scared,’ Joel added. And just then, a small wave hit us, and his hips bucked forward, driving his cock deeper inside me. The first wave of the night.

‘Alright, better come back, it’s getting dark.’

My dad called again. Joel thrust one more time, stealing my breath with a quiet moan.

‘Ahh…’

I moaned softly, and Joel smiled.

‘Add and I will be up on the deck!’

My dad pointed to the wooden deck overlooking the beach.

‘We’ll be right up!’ Joel shouted, and pulled out, hiding himself quickly. He dragged us out of the water before Dad could see. The cave-like spot beneath the deck was perfect—no view, just the sound of waves.Joel grabbed my ass again and slid inside me as he sat down. I bounced on his dick while he sucked on my nipples.

‘Riding my dick so good, baby.’

‘Oh Joel, I love your dick. Thank you,’

I whimpered, and he laughed in bliss.

‘Yeah, baby, you’re such a filthy little thing, always craving my dick.’

‘I am. Fuck me, Joel. I’m yours.’

He flipped me over, and I arched my ass up for him. Joel slammed back inside me. fucking my ass hard, the sound of his balls slapping against my skin made me shiver with the hard feeling of him.

‘Fuck, you feel so good.’ His hands pulled me to the air to rest my back against his chest and his hand massaged my swollen clitoris, rubbing my wet pussy for it.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’

I moaned as my climax hit, and three more deep thrusts had his balls smacking my ass before he emptied himself inside me.

‘You think he heard us?’

‘Probably,’

Joel said, breathless.

‘Good.’

If this was what vacation meant, I had zero complaints.

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[sinofwriting]

Engineer in Law - Max Verstappen

Words: 1,758 Summary: Max and GP are far more close than most race engineers and drivers, which might have to do with the fact that Max is dating his daughter. Note(s): Takes place in 2021. Reader is GP’s daughter. Reader is 21, Max is 23. I don’t know what GP’s wife’s name is IRL but in this fic her name is Sarah. Also, reader is only given one physical descriptor which is that she has GP’s eyes, apologies if (like me) you don’t know have that eye color, but we can imagine and/or wish! This might end up getting a part two.

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“You're happy.”

It’s not something GP normally comments on, Max’s moods. Not unless it’s to make a sarcastic comment about how thrilled he looks to be going to a press event or something of the sort, but Max is beaming like he just won a race. It’s an odd look on the young driver, an unusual one, sadly.

“I asked the girl I was seeing to be my girlfriend, she said yes.” Max’s voice is quiet and GP leans in, his eyebrows going up at the news, at the soft but excited tone the words hold.

He smiles at the younger, reaching forward and clasping him on the shoulder. “That’s fantastic, mate. Want to tell me about her?” It’s a rather stupid question because if Max didn’t want to talk about her, he wouldn’t have said anything. And GP is rather happy to sit here and listen to Max talk about this new girl in his life.

“She’s amazing, GP. I mean really smart, funny, and she never backs down. She always has a response to anything I say. And even if I’m in a bad mood, she doesn’t let me just sulk. She knows exactly how to get a response from me and she knows it. She’ll get this little smirk on her face after I snap back at her and she’s great.”

GP has to stop himself from clearing his throat at how head over heels in love Max looks. It was oddly like looking in a mirror when GP was just four years younger than him and seeing his wife holding their newborn daughter.

“I hope you're not snapping at her too much.” His dad mode is in full force, nearly shuddering as he thinks of his twenty-one year old daughter getting snapped at often by a boyfriend. He further shudders at the reminder she currently has a boyfriend.

“Not like that.” Max reassures. “It’s kind of like us in the simulator.”

GP lets out a laugh.

It wasn’t often he joined Max in the simulator but every time they did, other people would gather around to hear the pair mock argue with each other.

“Well I’m happy to hear she’s keeping you on your toes.”

—

Max is practically vibrating in his seat as he waits for GP to sit down.

“She planned a date.”

GP stills from where he was about to reach for his water.

“Like a whole date. From everything, the food, the drinks, what we watched and it was all stuff I liked and fit in my training plan.”

He watches the younger closely, hearing something off in his voice.

“I thought I missed something. Like an anniversary or something, even though we’ve only been together five months.”

GP eyes shut for a second, rage threatening to overtake him. Max was never treated kindly enough and Max had never really talked about his few previous relationships before and he can’t help but wonder if this is why. Because Max never felt truly happy in them. Always something just wrong, always on the edge.

“She just wanted to do something nice for me. Said it wasn’t fair, I had been planning most of our dates.” Max looks confused, but there’s a slight flush to his cheeks.

“Y’know, my wife and I trade off.”

Max tilts his head a little.

“I mean, we only do a date about once a month, but we trade off. I did the last one, so tomorrow, she’s planning our date. We used to do the same with vacations, but the whole thing stresses her out a little too much, so I plan them and get the travel plans sorted while she handles looking at things to do and places to go while we are there. It's a partnership, Max. It should be an equal give and take. And that doesn’t mean that it has to be you guys both are giving and taking the same thing equally, you just need to find the balance that works for you. Like you take out the trash, she does the dusting.”

“She has a dust allergy. And we aren’t living together yet.”

GP smiles, coughing to hide his laugh. “Yet, I see. And if she has a dust allergy she needs certain pillowcases and sheets, I’ll send you the ones I bought for my daughter last Christmas.”

“Thank you, GP.”

“I’m always here for you, Max.”

—

“You were out again.”

“Good morning to you as well, dad.” His daughter says, eyebrows raised even as she steps closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek before going to the fridge.

He glances at the clock, slightly miffed to see it is just after eleven am. “Closer to the afternoon.” He comments.

She signs, leaning against the counter, a Red Bull in hand, and he watches as her fingers play with the tab but not open it. It’s a habit he’s never seen from her before. “Dad,” He looks at her face at the sound. “Is me having a boyfriend bothering you that much?”

He softens a little. “No, well, yes. It’s just I don’t know anything about him. All I know is you have a boyfriend and that’s it. I don’t know his name, how old he is, what he does for a living, if he treats you well. And you're spending an awful lot of nights as his and I’ve never met him.”

Her fingers still against the can’s tab. “Is that something you want?”

“Well I’d prefer to meet him before you fully move in with him.” He gives her a look. “But yes, I would. He makes you happy.” It was a hard pill to swallow, the reason for his daughter seeming to be so happy being a boy, but that was the reason.

“Alright, I’ll text him and maybe tomorrow we could do lunch?” She offers.

“I’d like that.”

—

“I’ve been listening to Max talk about our daughter for months.”

Sarah’s lips thin as she struggles not to laugh, running a soothing hand over her husband’s back. “You said it was sweet how he talked about her.”

“Well, I didn’t know he was talking about our daughter then did I?”

His head somehow manages to drop further into his hands. “He talked for thirty minutes straight about her eyes. Her eyes, Sarah. She has MY eyes.”

Sarah can’t help the laugh that spills from her lips. “Well at least it was just her eyes you heard about.”

GP’s face screws up at that remembering the hickey he had seen high on Max’s neck last week and apparently he had some interesting scratch and bite marks as well. Those thankfully he had not seen. “Please, love, put me out of my misery.”

His hands fall into his lap and he presses his face against his wife’s neck, smelling the slightly faded scent of her perfume and her lotion.

“Oh hush.” She says, lightly swatting his shoulder. “It could be much worse. You like Max, you know Max. He’d never hurt our baby.”

GP softens, pressing a kiss to her neck before sitting straight, his back thanking him for it. “No, he wouldn’t. I just,” He sighs. “This is serious for Max and it’s obviously serious for her. She’s never invited a boy around the house that she’s been seeing. When she said lunch, I thought she had booked our usual table.”

“I know. You were all ready to go, wallet and keys in hand.”

“She let me think that as well you know.”

Sarah hums, “I wonder who she got that from.”

He smiles at her. “No clue, love.”

Her eyes give a slight roll and then she’s leaning forward. Brushing their lips together. “Max is good for her and it’s obvious that she is good for Max as well with what you’ve told me. And just think you always joked that Max was like a son. Now it’s just more official.”

“Oh my god, they’re going to get married.”

Sarah laughs at the horror and awe in her husband's voice. “I’d say don’t get ahead of yourself, but you saw exactly what I did at lunch.”

—

“Max, if you talk about my eyes one more time, I’m going to report you to HR.”

Max snickers at the older’s expression. “But, I’m not talking about your eyes.”

“She has my eyes.” GP cuts him off immediately, already knowing his defense. “We have the same exact eyes.” He holds up a finger, silencing Max. “And don’t even think of starting to list the difference between them.”

He kicks a little at the ground, faking a sigh. “Fine. Can we at least talk about you talking in the braking?”

GP sighs, but nods. “Yes, we can talk about it.”

They both fail to notice the Sky Sports camera that had been filming the conversation until much later, when Max is sitting in his driver’s room, chuckling at the broadcast that had just ended and the tweets on his phone.

“Listen to this one, Sky Sports seriously reporting that a female employee is threatening to go to HR because of Max’s comments while playing the video of audio of GP, his MALE race engineer, is seemingly joking about going to HR, is sending me. How is this a serious news source?”

GP snorts, looking at his texts with his daughter. “She just sent me this one, ‘Sky is doing nothing but proving their British bias and stupidity. How much do you think they suck Lewis’ dick for every year now?’ Honestly, they have a point.”

“More than a point.” Max says, tossing his phone to the side. “It’s one thing to say I’m a shit driver that shouldn’t be anywhere near Hamilton, but this? This is ridiculous even for them. They have the footage and audio, aired both, and are saying that it’s a female employee. Vicky is having the time of her life right now, and so are my lawyers.”

“Your lawyers?”

Max shrugs. “They’ll be working with Red Bull’s as well, but this is more than that.”

“It is.” GP agrees. “Sarah was with her when it aired. She was livid.”

“I could tell.” The driver chuckles. “My texts are filled with it. She wants to come to the next race, well, two.”

“Team home race. That’s a statement.”

His cheeks are a little pink. “She wanted to wait for Zandvoort to officially come as my girlfriend, but she wants to be with me for these next two now.”

“It will be nice to see her at both.”

[mcrdvcks]

heyy i have a request for logan and reader where they get in an argument which results in either reader gives him the silent treatment or they both do and just ignore each other until logan does something about it!!

how you get the girl

summary: After an argument with Logan, you both stop talking to each other. word count: 7.6k+ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader notes: this somehow became much longer than i thought it would, lol. also, i wrote in emma frost, but i based her characterization off of her in marvel rivals (so what if it's a videogame? she's hot asf-) also, i wrote something similar a while back with old man logan! check it out here: things i wish you said warnings/tags: angst, angst, angst (like... so much), happy ending, asshole!logan, bamf!reader, don't settle for less than you deserve y'all, silent treatment

You sighed as you stepped through the mansion doors, exhaustion settling heavy in your shoulders. Your day had been long—endlessly long—and teaching mutant teenagers about control and responsibility had felt particularly draining today.

You glanced around, hoping for Logan. Seeing him always eased the tightness in your chest after a bad day. But as your eyes scanned the foyer, there was no sign of him.

“Hey, Ororo,” you greeted softly as you saw her passing by. “Seen Logan?”

Ororo paused, offering you a gentle smile. “I believe he’s outside. He seemed a bit… restless today.”

You nodded, feeling unease curl slightly in your stomach. “Thanks.”

Outside, you found him sitting on the steps of the mansion’s back porch, cigar in hand, expression dark and contemplative as he stared into the distance.

“Hey,” you called gently, stepping up beside him.

He barely glanced at you. “Hey.”

His voice was flat, the usual warmth gone. You frowned, hesitating only a second before sitting next to him. “Rough day?”

“Something like that,” he muttered, taking a slow drag and releasing the smoke into the chilly air.

You studied his profile carefully. Logan was closed off more often than not, but this felt different—like he’d already decided to shut you out.

“Logan,” you prompted softly. “Talk to me.”

He sighed, frustration evident in the way his jaw tightened. “Nothing to talk about. Leave it.”

“Clearly, there’s something. You don’t have to pretend—”

“I said leave it,” he snapped, his voice sharper than he’d intended.

You recoiled slightly, hurt flickering across your face. “I’m just trying to help—”

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t,” Logan said abruptly, his eyes finally flicking to yours, harsh and defensive. “Maybe you shouldn’t try so hard, Y/N.”

Anger twisted tightly in your chest, clashing against your exhaustion. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what it sounds like,” he growled, flicking his cigar onto the grass. “You’re always pushin’, always tryin’ to fix somethin’ you got no damn business fixin’. Maybe you’d be better off not carin’ so damn much.”

“You think I enjoy pushing you?” You stood abruptly, disbelief turning quickly into hurt. “Logan, all I’ve ever done is care about you.”

“Yeah, and look how well that's goin', sweetheart,” he shot back bitterly, rising to his feet. “Maybe you'd save yourself some trouble if you didn't count on me so damn much.”

Your heart sank, pain sharp and immediate. You swallowed, feeling your throat tighten painfully. “So that's it, huh? Caring about you is the problem?”

He didn’t respond, jaw clenched, gaze hard and distant.

You shook your head, stepping back. “Fine. Message received, loud and clear.”

Turning quickly, you walked back toward the mansion without another word, refusing to let him see the tears already threatening to spill. Logan remained rooted to the spot, fists clenched at his sides, the angry words he'd hurled at you already burning bitterly in his throat.

He watched you leave, regret creeping in even as he stubbornly refused to call you back.

And just like that, silence fell between you both—thick, heavy, and painfully loud.

---

You always had a hard time sleeping. Before dating Logan you would just pop some sleeping pills—a little more than the recommended dose—and hope for the best. But when you started dating, and sharing a bed, you found it a little easier to fall asleep.

The warmth of being held, him rubbing your back, murmuring sweet nothings. But tonight, you popped those sleeping pills and curled up in bed long before Logan got there.

You were awake, eyes closed, breaths slow and careful when you heard the bedroom door open softly. Logan’s footsteps were quiet, almost hesitant as he paused at the edge of the bed, lingering for a long moment. You could feel his gaze heavy on your back, the mattress dipping slightly as he sat down carefully on his side.

Neither of you spoke, and the tension filled every silent second. You focused intently on keeping your breathing steady, even as your chest felt unbearably tight.

"Y/N?" Logan’s voice was quiet, almost tentative. A careful prod in the silence.

You didn’t answer, pretending instead that sleep had already claimed you.

Logan exhaled softly—frustration, regret, maybe both. He shifted beside you, and for a brief moment you thought he’d reach out, rest his hand on your shoulder, try to make things right. But instead, he settled down, turning his back to yours, the heavy sigh that slipped from him enough proof that he was just as stubborn as you.

Sleep came eventually, but it was restless and filled with vague, half-formed dreams that left you tired when morning came. Logan’s side of the bed was empty and cold, no lingering warmth to suggest he’d stayed beside you long.

The silence persisted.

You dressed quickly and quietly, making your way down to breakfast where the usual bustle of the X-Mansion filled the room with chatter. Logan was already there, hunched over his coffee and glaring down at the newspaper like it had personally offended him. You pointedly avoided looking at him as you poured yourself coffee and quietly moved toward an empty seat by Jean and Scott.

"Morning, Y/N," Jean greeted softly, her eyes flicking to Logan briefly before landing back on you. Her expression shifted subtly, perceptive as always. "Everything okay?"

"Fine," you answered shortly, sipping your coffee and focusing on the table.

Across the room, Logan shifted slightly in his chair, clearly listening.

Jean glanced at Scott, who wisely decided to stay out of it, turning back to his breakfast without comment. Jean lowered her voice, leaning closer. "If you need to talk—"

"I said it's fine," you snapped, sharper than you intended. You sighed immediately after, guilt tugging at your chest as you glanced at her apologetically. "Sorry. I didn't sleep well."

Jean squeezed your arm gently. "Understood."

You didn’t look over, but you felt Logan’s eyes on you from across the room, heavy and intent. Ignoring him took effort—every fiber of your being wanted to turn, snap something sarcastic, or glare at him—but instead, you deliberately kept your attention on your coffee and Jean's quiet, sympathetic presence beside you.

It went similarly during dinner. You sat in your regular spot, except you were the first one at the table. No Jean across from you, no Ororo on your left, and certainly no Logan to your right.

You felt a presence sit down next to you, but you kept your eyes down on your plate, not looking over.

"I take it this seat isn't usually vacant?" a smooth voice drawled softly beside you.

You stiffened immediately at the sound of Emma Frost's unmistakably confident tone, the way she seemed to relish the tension. Slowly, you forced yourself to glance over, keeping your expression carefully neutral.

"Usually isn't," you replied evenly, offering nothing more.

Emma tilted her head slightly, regarding you with a cool, appraising gaze. "Trouble in paradise?"

You exhaled slowly through your nose, irritation flaring sharply beneath your forced calm. "Is there something I can do for you, Emma?"

She smiled faintly, picking up her glass and sipping elegantly before placing it down again with an almost deliberate precision. "Not particularly. But seeing as how Logan's sulking on the other side of the room like a wounded puppy, I figured I'd make use of the empty seat. You know how much I enjoy shaking things up."

You frowned, unable to resist the quick glance over your shoulder. Logan sat by himself at the far end of the table, a plate barely touched in front of him. His jaw was tight, eyes glaring daggers into Emma's back. When your eyes met his briefly, he quickly looked away, annoyance clear in every stiff movement.

"You picked the wrong day, Emma," you said shortly, picking at your food with renewed agitation. "I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, darling, that's precisely why I picked today," Emma replied smoothly, completely unfazed by your sharpness. "It's hardly ever interesting around here when things are peaceful."

"You could just leave," you pointed out flatly. "Then you wouldn't have to worry about boredom."

Emma laughed softly, the sound like expensive silk—cold and smooth and utterly unbothered. "And miss moments like this? Please. Watching Logan stew is just icing on the cake."

You didn't answer, instead focusing pointedly on your food. Despite your best efforts to ignore her, Emma seemed thoroughly content to remain, sipping her drink and occasionally casting you sidelong glances.

Finally, you broke the silence, irritation fraying your voice. "Did you need something specific, Emma?"

"Actually, yes." She leaned forward slightly, voice lowering conspiratorially. "I'm genuinely curious—how long are you going to keep up this little silent-treatment game? You two are rather notorious for being nauseatingly affectionate."

"None of your business," you muttered stiffly.

"Oh, come now, Y/N." Emma's lips curved slowly, eyes glittering with something sharp and dangerous. "Everyone in this mansion can feel the tension rolling off both of you. Honestly, you're both exhausting."

You pushed your plate away abruptly, your appetite utterly gone. "Emma, whatever game you're playing, go play it somewhere else. I've had a long day."

She arched a delicate brow, unfazed. "Believe it or not, I'm doing you a favor."

"How exactly is this a favor?"

She glanced pointedly across the room, eyes briefly landing on Logan before returning to you, perfectly composed. "He's stubborn and prideful. If you expect him to break first, you may be waiting quite some time."

You refused to look over, despite the overwhelming urge. "Again, none of your business."

Emma shrugged lightly, leaning back in Logan's chair, legs crossed elegantly beneath the table. "Suit yourself. But in my experience—and believe me, I've dealt with men like Logan—these standoffs rarely end with dignity intact."

You narrowed your eyes, finally turning your head fully to face her, your tone sharp. "And just what are you suggesting, exactly? That I go apologize when he's the one who—"

"I'm not suggesting anything," Emma interrupted calmly, her eyes cool but surprisingly sincere. "I simply dislike the tedious atmosphere your stubbornness creates. Handle it or don't, I honestly don't care. But this silence is exhausting for everyone."

She stood gracefully, smoothing her clothes as she cast a last amused glance toward Logan, whose expression was now practically murderous. Emma smiled faintly, clearly pleased by the reaction she'd provoked. "Good luck, Y/N. For your sake, I hope this resolves sooner rather than later."

You watched her go, jaw clenched tightly, a swirl of anger and embarrassment twisting uneasily in your gut. Before you could even consider Emma's words further, footsteps approached again. You glanced up sharply, expecting Emma to have returned to further antagonize you.

Instead, it was Ororo. Her gentle expression was cautious but kind, a stark contrast to Emma's calculating smirk.

"Do I even want to ask what that was about?" Ororo asked softly, taking the seat Emma had just vacated.

You sighed, rubbing a tired hand over your face. "Emma being Emma."

Ororo hummed softly, eyes drifting briefly across the room. "Logan looks particularly irritable tonight."

"Yeah," you said shortly, biting the inside of your cheek as you stabbed at your food half-heartedly. "He's made it very clear he wants space."

Ororo studied you quietly for a moment, thoughtful. "Perhaps it's less about wanting space and more about needing it."

You looked at her sharply, frustration bubbling up. "What does that even mean?"

Ororo's eyes were sympathetic but firm. "You know Logan better than most. He isn't good at asking for help or accepting comfort. It's easier for him to push people away."

"And I'm supposed to just accept that?" you asked, the anger in your voice giving way slightly to hurt. "He said things, Ororo—things he can't just take back."

"No," she agreed softly, "but he can apologize. If given the chance."

You shook your head slightly, swallowing down a lump of emotion you didn't want to deal with. "I don't think he plans to."

Ororo reached over, squeezing your arm gently. "Just because he's stubborn doesn't mean he isn't sorry. Give him some time."

You nodded stiffly, blinking quickly to chase away the prickling tears of frustration gathering at the corners of your eyes. "Maybe. I just... I don't know."

She smiled gently, leaning in and speaking softly enough for only you to hear. "He misses you. Anyone can see that."

You didn't answer immediately, the ache in your chest twisting tighter at her words. Your eyes betrayed you, drifting across the dining hall despite yourself, and finding Logan's gaze already locked onto yours. For a long moment, neither of you looked away, stubbornness and hurt caught between you, tangled and raw.

Eventually, Logan broke first, his jaw working tightly as he pushed away from the table roughly, leaving the dining room without another glance your way. You swallowed down the tight lump in your throat, staring blankly at the empty doorway he'd disappeared through.

Ororo sighed softly, understanding in her eyes. "He'll come around, Y/N. Logan always does."

You managed a small, humorless laugh, shaking your head slowly. "I wouldn't be so sure this time."

She squeezed your hand softly, sympathy in her voice. "I am."

You didn't answer, your mind stuck replaying the fight, Logan’s harsh words still echoing painfully in your chest. And as much as you wished it didn't bother you, Emma's smug voice kept slipping back in too—reminding you that waiting him out could be a long, miserable ordeal.

So you resolved to do just that—to wait. Logan was stubborn, but you could be stubborn too. If he wanted silence, you’d give him all the silence he could handle.

It was Logan's move now.

---

Sometimes the mall was relaxing. You could walk around, buy new candles, find a few nice shirts, and even get a pretzel and a coffee.

Today, it felt like an escape—somewhere to be without Logan’s heavy presence lingering in every corner of the mansion. It was the third day of your stalemate. No conversations, no hellos, no goodnights, nothing. Just tense silence and carefully avoided eye contact.

So you wandered slowly, idly browsing a display of candles labeled with names like "Lavender Fields," "Cozy Cottage," and "Stormy Nights." You lifted one of them to your nose, inhaling deeply before setting it back down with a sigh.

"That good, huh?"

You turned, startled, to see Jean standing behind you, a small smile on her face.

"Oh. Hey, Jean," you said, setting the candle down gently. "Didn't see you there."

"Clearly," Jean teased softly. She glanced around the shop. "Retail therapy?"

"More like avoidance therapy," you admitted dryly.

Jean hummed knowingly, falling into step beside you as you moved toward another shelf. "Still not speaking to Logan?"

You sighed, reaching for another candle absently. "He started it."

She chuckled softly, glancing over the label on the candle you'd picked up. "I'm sure he did. But are you going to let him end it, too?"

You groaned lightly. "Please, I had this conversation twice already. Once with Ororo, once with Emma—of all people—and I really don't need another lecture."

Jean laughed quietly, picking up her own candle. "Fair enough. No lectures, just friendly observation."

You shot her a wary look. "Which is?"

She smiled gently. "Logan doesn't know how to fix it."

"Logan hasn't even tried," you said stiffly, placing the candle back down with unnecessary force. "He made it pretty clear I'm the problem."

Jean shook her head slowly. "That's not true, and you know it. He's hurting too. He's just too stubborn to admit it."

"Stubborn is an understatement," you muttered, wandering toward the clothing racks. Jean followed easily, letting the silence sit between you for a moment.

She fingered through some shirts, pausing to look at you seriously. "Would it really kill you to reach out first?"

You glanced at her sharply. "Why do I have to be the one?"

"Because you're the emotionally mature one," Jean teased gently. "And because Logan is—"

"Emotionally constipated?" you supplied flatly.

Jean laughed brightly, nodding. "Yes, exactly."

You smiled slightly despite yourself, turning back to the shirts. "If I do it, then it becomes a pattern. It’ll only ever be me running to him for a mistake he made. I don’t want to be the kind of girl who has no self-worth.”

Jean exhaled softly, setting the shirt she’d been looking at back on the rack. "I get that, Y/N. But I don’t think Logan sees it that way. He’s… complicated."

You snorted lightly, shaking your head. "That’s the understatement of the century."

Jean nudged you playfully, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Okay, more than complicated. He's stubborn, prideful, emotionally closed-off—"

"Are you trying to help or convince me to leave him?" you interrupted dryly, earning a small laugh from Jean.

"Listen," Jean said softly, turning serious again. "You and Logan are good together. He’s better when he’s with you—softer, happier. And you’re more grounded, more confident. The two of you… you balance each other out."

You chewed your lip thoughtfully, avoiding her eyes. "Maybe. But I don’t know how many times I can do this. How many times I can put my heart out there, only for him to stomp all over it when he's having a bad day."

Jean was quiet a moment, her voice gentle when she finally spoke. "That's valid, Y/N. Completely valid. But ask yourself honestly—is it really worth this much misery just to prove a point?"

You stayed silent, unable to answer right away. You didn’t want to lose your pride, your self-respect—but you missed Logan terribly. The stubborn silence that filled every space between you was becoming unbearable.

Jean sighed, resting a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Just… think about it. Okay?"

"Yeah," you murmured softly, giving her a small nod. "I'll think about it."

---

Returning to the mansion was like stepping back into the cold tension you'd managed to briefly escape. You half-expected to see Logan brooding somewhere, cigar smoke trailing behind him like a dark cloud—but he wasn't in the common room, wasn't lingering around the halls, wasn't out back.

Instead, you found Scott, grading papers at the kitchen island, glasses sliding low on his nose. He looked up when he heard you come in, giving you an awkward, sympathetic smile.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted softly. "You doing okay?"

"Fine," you replied automatically, grabbing a glass to fill with water.

Scott raised an eyebrow, putting down his pen. "You don’t have to pretend. Logan’s been a moody nightmare, so I can’t imagine things are fine."

You chuckled humorlessly. "You don’t have to deal with it. I'm pretty sure he's avoiding me at all costs."

Scott shrugged, leaning back on his stool. "Maybe. Or maybe he doesn’t know how to approach you after… you know."

You turned, leaning your hip against the counter as you faced him. "What did he say to you?"

Scott hesitated, clearly uncomfortable being in the middle. "He didn’t say much. Just snapped at pretty much everyone who asked him about it. You know how he is."

"Yeah, unfortunately, I do," you sighed tiredly, sipping your water slowly.

"He’s miserable though," Scott added quietly. "Whatever happened… it’s eating him up."

You shook your head slowly. "Then he should be the one doing something about it."

Scott gave you a faint, sympathetic smile. "I'm not arguing with you there."

You pushed away from the counter, moving towards the hall. "Thanks for caring, Scott. But I'm tired of everyone making excuses for him."

"Hey, I'm not," Scott called after you softly. "Just stating facts."

You waved a dismissive hand, offering him a tired smile as you left the kitchen.

---

The next morning, you were in the kitchen making tea for your thermos when Logan walked in. Despite every part of you wanting to just rush out, you didn’t. You stayed calm and continued making your tea, adding a little bit of milk and sugar.

Logan came next to you, grabbing a mug and pouring himself some coffee from the pot. “You doin’ okay?” He asked.

You let out a quiet breath, “yeah, fine.”

Taking Jean’s advice, you stayed, waiting—hoping—that Logan would say something, anything else. But nothing came. He stood there, silent, sipping his coffee.

You let the silence stretch on, hoping against hope he’d speak first, that he’d find something, anything to say.

But Logan remained quiet, his gaze firmly fixed on the countertop, the tension in the room thickening with every passing second. Finally, the realization settled heavy in your chest—he wasn't going to say anything.

He wasn't going to apologize.

You sighed quietly, feeling something crack inside your chest as disappointment seeped through your veins. Without another word, you closed your thermos, deliberately not looking at him as you turned to leave the kitchen.

"Y/N," Logan called suddenly, his voice rough, hesitant, stopping you mid-step.

You paused at the threshold of the kitchen, not turning to face him. Instead, you stared straight ahead, waiting.

Logan hesitated again, and you could practically feel the frustration radiating off him. "Nevermind," he finally muttered.

You clenched your jaw tightly, disappointment turning quickly into quiet, simmering anger. "Right," you said softly, barely louder than a whisper. "That's what I thought."

Then you walked out, leaving him standing there, the silence heavy in your wake.

The rest of your day passed in a numb blur of classes and grading assignments, Logan's stubbornness gnawing at the edges of your thoughts, distracting you in ways you wished it wouldn't. You'd hoped—maybe foolishly—that he'd at least have tried to talk to you again by dinner.

But he didn't.

In fact, when dinner came around, Logan was nowhere in sight. His absence, though annoying, felt intentional. Like he was deliberately trying to avoid even the slightest possibility of confrontation.

You sat quietly at your usual spot, ignoring the sympathetic looks Jean shot your way, ignoring Emma's knowing smirk from across the room. You kept your head down and finished dinner quickly, the silence between you and Logan stretching unbearably through the meal.

Later, as you curled up alone in bed, your mind was restless. You glanced at the clock—nearly midnight—and Logan still hadn't come upstairs. His avoidance was clear, and it hurt more than you'd care to admit. Sleep felt impossible, your heart and mind racing despite the exhaustion settling deep in your bones.

When the bedroom door finally opened an hour later, your heart skipped a beat, eyes shut tight as you pretended to sleep.

Logan hesitated in the doorway, lingering silently for what felt like forever. Finally, he moved into the room, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed.

You kept your breathing steady, your back to him, waiting anxiously to see if he'd finally break. If he'd finally say what you desperately wanted—needed—to hear.

Instead, after several tense, silent moments, Logan stood up again, footsteps soft and cautious as he left the room. The door clicked quietly shut behind him, leaving you alone once more, the ache in your chest growing sharper by the minute.

The next day dragged, each class feeling longer and more draining than the last. You tried your best to act unaffected, smiling tightly at the students and nodding absently at your colleagues. But beneath the carefully maintained facade, your mind kept returning to Logan, replaying every cold, tense moment since your fight.

"You look exhausted," Ororo observed gently later that afternoon, finding you alone in your classroom, leaning heavily against your desk.

You sighed, rubbing your temples tiredly. "Understatement of the century."

"Still not resolved?" she asked softly, stepping further into the room.

You shook your head. "He's not speaking, I'm not speaking. It's just... silence."

Ororo sat beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Maybe someone has to be brave enough to break it."

You laughed quietly, without humor. "Why does that someone always have to be me?"

"Because you have patience," Ororo said gently. "Because you love him enough to push through the stubbornness."

"And he doesn't?" you challenged bitterly.

Ororo gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze, understanding shining in her eyes. "Logan loves you deeply. He just... struggles. You know that."

You sighed deeply, exhaustion creeping into your bones. "I know. I just... don't know if I can keep doing this. I don't know how many more times I can be the one who bends."

She smiled softly, her voice kind. "I understand, Y/N. I just don't think either of you want to lose each other. You need to decide if being right is worth more than being happy."

Ororo's words lingered heavily with you throughout the evening, your thoughts swirling restlessly as you climbed into bed again—alone, once more. Logan hadn't returned, and you wondered bitterly where he'd chosen to spend the night instead.

You lay awake, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling, tension knotting your stomach until sleep finally, mercifully, claimed you.

When morning came, you felt groggy and unrested, each movement heavy with fatigue. You went through your morning routine numbly, showering and dressing without enthusiasm. Eventually, you made your way downstairs to the kitchen, dreading another quiet standoff.

Instead, you found Logan already there, leaning against the counter, staring into his mug as steam rose softly around his face. You paused in the doorway, debating whether you should just turn around and walk out again.

But Logan looked up, his eyes meeting yours and holding your gaze firmly.

"Morning," he greeted quietly, voice rough and cautious.

"Morning," you returned carefully, stepping further into the kitchen and deliberately looking away as you moved to fill your thermos.

For a long, tense moment, Logan said nothing else, merely watching you with that unreadable expression that frustrated you endlessly.

"Y/N," he finally started, voice uncertain, hesitant.

You turned slowly, lifting an eyebrow expectantly. "Yeah?"

He paused, visibly struggling, eyes dropping to his coffee again. "About... about the other night—"

"What about it, Logan?" you interrupted, heart thudding painfully in your chest.

He clenched his jaw briefly, frustration flickering in his gaze. "I didn't mean it the way it came out."

You scoffed softly, shaking your head as disappointment settled bitterly in your throat. "That's your apology? 'I didn't mean it'?"

Logan sighed, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "Dammit, Y/N, I'm tryin' here."

"Are you?" you challenged sharply, voice low and fierce. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're doing everything you possibly can to avoid actually apologizing."

He stared at you, jaw tight, irritation radiating off him in waves. "Maybe I ain't good at sayin' I'm sorry."

"No kidding," you muttered bitterly, turning away again, angrily twisting the lid onto your thermos.

Silence settled thickly around you both, tension coiled and ready to snap at any moment.

"You know what, Logan?" you finally said quietly, voice shaking slightly. "I’m not asking for much. I’m just asking for you to say you're sorry and for you to mean it.”

He stood there, mug clenched tightly in his fist, jaw set and eyes stormy. He opened his mouth briefly, then shut it again sharply, frustration clear on his face.

"I’m not askin' you to pretend it didn’t happen," Logan muttered roughly, voice tense. "I messed up. Ain’t denyin' it."

You exhaled slowly, forcing yourself to remain steady despite your shaking hands. "Then say it. Tell me you're sorry."

He glared at the countertop, stubborn pride still holding his words back. "It ain’t as simple as that."

"Actually, Logan, it really is," you snapped quietly, hurt and anger intertwining. "It's two words. Two simple words."

"Yeah, well," he muttered, voice low and defensive, "I told ya I'm not good at this."

"Logan," you began sharply, your patience fraying quickly, "it's not about you being 'good' at it. It's about you acknowledging you hurt me."

He ran a hand through his hair roughly, frustration evident in every line of his posture. "You think I don't know I hurt you? You think I ain't been kickin' myself every damn minute since?"

You shook your head slowly, feeling exhausted down to your bones. "I don't know, Logan. You've barely looked at me, you don't speak to me, and when you finally do—it's this. Defensive and angry and completely closed off."

"I'm tryin' to tell you—"

"No," you interrupted sharply, voice shaking with emotion, "you're trying to get out of apologizing. You’re trying to get me to move past it without ever having to actually deal with it."

He slammed his mug down hard enough to make you jump, coffee sloshing onto the counter. "Dammit, Y/N! What do you want from me? Blood?"

"I want an apology, Logan," you snapped, voice breaking slightly, eyes stinging with angry, frustrated tears. "That's it. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me you regret what you said."

His jaw clenched tightly, eyes blazing. "Yeah, well maybe words don't come easy for me. Maybe you ain't figured that out yet."

You turned fully to face him, swallowing past the tight lump in your throat. "Oh, I figured it out a long time ago. I just hoped—maybe stupidly—that I was worth the effort."

His expression faltered briefly, a flicker of guilt and uncertainty crossing his features. "You are, dammit," he ground out roughly, frustration clear. "I ain't sayin' you're not worth it—"

"Then prove it," you challenged fiercely, stepping closer, your eyes locked onto his. "Stop telling me all the reasons you can't and start giving me a reason to believe you actually care."

He stared back, stubborn silence heavy between you both. You waited, chest aching, heart pounding—but Logan said nothing.

"Right," you finally whispered, disappointment bitter on your tongue. "I get it."

Turning away abruptly, you grabbed your thermos from the counter and left the kitchen without another word. You refused to look back, refused to see whatever expression might have flickered across Logan’s face, refused to let yourself feel hope or guilt or anything except the quiet, simmering hurt that had taken root deep inside your chest.

The rest of your day passed in miserable quiet. Teaching felt exhausting, conversations draining. You avoided common areas, avoided the dining hall, avoided anywhere Logan might be. Every interaction felt superficial and forced, every smile brittle.

When night finally fell, you stayed in your classroom far later than necessary, grading papers until your eyes blurred and your head ached. Eventually, though, you couldn't put it off any longer. Slowly, reluctantly, you headed back toward your shared room, heart heavy with dread.

Logan was already there, standing by the window, staring out into the dark grounds. He glanced your way when you walked in, eyes guarded, jaw tight.

"You're back late," he muttered, tone carefully neutral.

"Needed to finish grading," you replied stiffly, moving around him to grab pajamas from the dresser.

Logan hesitated, shifting slightly, tension clear in the set of his shoulders. "You eat yet?"

"Not hungry," you said flatly, refusing to look at him.

He sighed quietly, frustration evident. "Y/N—"

"I'm tired, Logan," you interrupted shortly, your voice quiet but firm. "I really don't want to do this right now."

He turned sharply, glaring your way. "Don't wanna do what, exactly?"

"This," you said bitterly, finally meeting his gaze head-on. "The tense small-talk. The pretending we're fine when we're obviously not. If you're not ready to apologize, fine. But don't expect me to act like everything's normal."

Logan’s eyes darkened, irritation flashing clearly. "So what, then? We just stay quiet forever? Act like strangers?"

"Until you figure out how to apologize?" you challenged quietly, frustration and exhaustion clear. "Maybe we should."

Logan's jaw twitched, eyes narrowing, fists clenched at his sides. "You really wanna play it that way?"

"No," you whispered tiredly, turning away to hide the sudden tears blurring your vision. "I don't want this at all."

He said nothing else, and neither did you. Instead, you grabbed your pajamas and disappeared into the bathroom, changing slowly, your heart heavy and aching. When you finally emerged, Logan had already climbed into bed, his back facing your side of the mattress.

You hesitated briefly, exhaustion warring with stubbornness. Eventually, your tiredness won out, and you climbed into bed beside him, careful to keep distance between your bodies. The mattress felt miles wide, the silence deafening.

You lay awake, staring at the wall, frustration and hurt twisting tightly in your chest. Beside you, Logan's breathing was heavy and uneven, clearly awake, clearly as restless as you were.

Neither of you spoke.

The next morning was no better. You dressed in tense silence, moved around each other stiffly, carefully avoiding any sort of interaction.

At breakfast, you sat alone, barely eating, gaze locked firmly onto your plate. Logan sat across the room, sipping coffee and glaring at nothing. Jean, Scott, and Ororo glanced between you both warily, clearly uncomfortable with the heavy tension filling the room.

Emma sat down by you, her nails clinking against her mug.

“You’re not gonna tell me to apologize to him, are you? Because I’ve already heard that, and I’m not doing it.”

Emma’s perfectly manicured eyebrow arched upward, an amused smirk pulling at her lips. “Oh, darling, trust me. I'm the last person who'd encourage you to do that.”

You blinked, slightly taken aback by her quick and confident reply. “Really?”

“Please,” Emma scoffed lightly, elegantly stirring sugar into her tea. “Logan may have the emotional range of a teaspoon, but that’s his problem, not yours. Frankly, I’m impressed you've put up with his nonsense this long.”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help a small, humorless laugh. “At least someone’s on my side.”

Emma shrugged gracefully, sipping her tea calmly. “You’ve gotten far too comfortable letting Logan off the hook simply because he finds genuine emotional expression inconvenient. You're right to hold your ground. He's an adult, Y/N. It's long past time he acted like one.”

You sighed deeply, stabbing your fork into your untouched breakfast. “It's exhausting. Everyone else keeps making excuses for him. 'Oh, it's just Logan.' 'He doesn't mean it.' 'He's trying.' At what point do those excuses stop being enough?”

Emma watched you thoughtfully, her voice softening just a fraction. “They stopped being enough the moment you had to start justifying basic decency and accountability.”

You looked up, surprise flickering briefly through your eyes. Emma wasn’t exactly known for her empathy, yet here she was—making more sense than anyone else had so far.

“So, you agree? I'm not asking for too much?”

She leaned back slightly, lips curving into a knowing smile. “You’re barely asking for the bare minimum, darling. Logan may find this terribly challenging, but that's his burden. Not yours. If he can't manage a simple apology when he's clearly in the wrong, he's got no business being in a relationship.”

The bluntness of her words stung, but there was something comforting in her honesty.

“Harsh,” you murmured softly, your gaze drifting across the dining hall toward Logan, who was doing a poor job of pretending not to glance your way every few moments.

“But true,” Emma insisted firmly. “You've spent enough time apologizing for both of you. If he wants you back, he can bloody well put in some effort. And if not—well, perhaps he's doing you a favor.”

Your chest tightened painfully at the thought, but you nodded slowly, considering her words. “I guess I never looked at it that way.”

She placed a delicate hand over yours, her voice surprisingly gentle. “I know it hurts, Y/N. But remember, you’re worth far more than constantly bending to accommodate his pride.”

A soft sigh slipped from your lips, exhaustion and resignation heavy in the sound. “It would just be easier if he’d meet me halfway. Hell, I'd even settle for a quarter of the way at this point.”

Emma squeezed your hand lightly, an uncharacteristically supportive gesture. “Don’t lower your expectations just to make it easy for him. Logan’s been coddled for too long. If he genuinely cares, he’ll figure it out.”

You glanced up sharply, meeting her cool, unyielding gaze. “And if he doesn't?”

“Then at least you'll know exactly where you stand,” Emma said calmly, sipping her tea once more. “Uncertainty, darling, is far worse than a painful truth.”

You looked down at your plate again, pushing your food around absently. “I just—I've never been good at giving up.”

Emma laughed softly, leaning back in her seat. “Then don’t. You're not giving up—you're giving him an opportunity. The choice is his. Stop trying to make it easier.”

The dining hall doors opened, breaking the tense moment as a group of students bustled in, chatting loudly. Emma rose elegantly, gathering her empty cup.

“I have to go terrify my next class into submission,” she said lightly, flashing you a smirk. “But think about what I said.”

You nodded, offering her a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Emma.”

“Don't thank me yet,” she teased dryly, her eyes flicking briefly toward Logan's brooding figure across the room. “Save it for when he finally manages to scrape together a coherent apology.”

She turned on her heel, exiting the hall gracefully, leaving you alone again. You sighed softly, considering her words carefully. Emma's perspective was harsh, blunt—but undeniably fair. It was refreshing, even comforting, compared to the gentle yet endlessly patient suggestions from Jean and Ororo.

---

That night, the cycle continued. You would be in bed, wide awake, when Logan walked in and finally stayed, getting into bed, facing away from you.

Except this time, you couldn’t take it any longer. Couldn’t take the fact that you had to try and fall asleep like a wooden plank, or the fact that you missed curling up to Logan.

Perhaps, above all, it was the fact that you felt like you were trapped in bed, a place you were supposed to relax.

You slowly sat up, legs dangling off the side of the bed as you grabbed your two pillows and moved to your desk to grab your throw blanket.

Behind you, you felt the mattress shift. Logan stirred slightly, but you refused to glance over your shoulder. Silently, you picked up your phone and charger, determined to move somewhere else—anywhere else—that felt less suffocating.

“What’re you doin’?” Logan’s voice was gruff, thick with sleep, but you could hear the alertness beneath.

You paused for a moment, gathering your resolve before speaking. “Going to sleep somewhere else.”

Logan sat up, the rustle of blankets loud in the quiet room. “It’s past midnight. Where the hell else are you gonna sleep?”

“The couch,” you answered flatly, still not looking at him as you bundled your things together. “Or maybe my classroom. It doesn’t really matter.”

He exhaled heavily, frustration evident in the rough sound. “Y/N, c’mon. Don’t do that.”

“Why not?” you snapped bitterly, finally turning to face him. “We’re already practically strangers. Might as well make it official.”

Logan clenched his jaw, clearly struggling with what to say. He ran a rough hand through his hair, eyes dark and unreadable in the dim moonlight. “You don’t gotta do that. Just come back to bed.”

“Why?” you challenged, anger simmering beneath the quiet hurt in your voice. “So we can lay here in angry silence? Pretend this isn’t happening? I’m exhausted, Logan. I’m tired of pretending.”

“You think I ain’t tired too?” Logan growled softly, frustration deepening in his voice. “You think this is easy for me?”

You sighed heavily, gripping your pillow tighter. “No, Logan, I don’t think it’s easy. But I also don’t think it’s fair that I’m always the one trying to make things right. I shouldn’t have to beg you for an apology. I deserve better than that.”

He swallowed visibly, his eyes narrowing slightly in the shadows, jaw working. “I know.”

Those two simple words caught you off guard, your anger faltering momentarily. You stared at him, unsure how to respond.

“You know?” you repeated carefully, guardedly.

“Yeah,” he muttered roughly, dropping his gaze. “I know. You deserve a hell of a lot better than me.”

Your heart twisted painfully at the defeat in his voice. “Logan—”

He shook his head sharply, cutting you off. “Don’t try and argue that. It’s the truth. I ain’t good at this. I ain’t good at talkin’ things through, I ain’t good at apologizin’ when I screw up. And I know I screw up—a lot. So, yeah. You do deserve better.”

Your grip loosened slightly on the pillow, uncertainty creeping in. “You don’t get to make that decision for me.”

“I ain’t makin’ decisions,” Logan said flatly, frustration flickering back into his voice. “Just statin’ facts.”

You stepped closer, setting your blanket and pillow down on the chair. “Then try, Logan. Just try. You think I don’t know you’re bad at this? I do. But I also know you’re capable of more. And if I didn’t think that, we wouldn’t still be here.”

He looked up at you sharply, his gaze intense, searching yours carefully. For a long, tense moment, neither of you moved, neither of you spoke.

Finally, Logan exhaled slowly, his voice gruff but softer than before. “I didn’t mean what I said that night. ‘Bout you carin’ too much.”

You nodded slightly, crossing your arms protectively. “It sure felt like you did.”

Logan’s jaw tightened briefly, frustration evident, but he didn’t look away. “I lashed out. It was a rough day. Lotta old memories comin’ back—things I thought I put behind me. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“Then why did you?” you asked softly, your anger fading slowly, replaced by the ache of exhaustion. “You’re supposed to trust me, Logan. To lean on me. Instead, you pushed me away.”

He swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper when he spoke. “I got scared.”

Your chest tightened, surprised by the raw honesty in his voice. Logan wasn’t someone who admitted fear lightly—if ever. You moved even closer, your tone gentle now. “Scared of what?”

“Losin’ you,” he admitted quietly, the words tumbling out with obvious difficulty. “Eventually, you’ll realize you can do better than some stubborn, broken-down asshole like me. It’s just a matter of time.”

Your breath caught slightly, heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. “Logan,” you whispered softly, “do you really think I’d still be here if I didn’t want to be?”

He shrugged slightly, not meeting your eyes. “Sometimes, I dunno.”

Slowly, you moved back to sit beside him on the bed, careful to keep a cautious distance, but close enough to show you weren’t running. “Well, you should know by now. I’m here because I want to be. But you have to let me in, Logan. You have to give me something to work with. I can’t be the only one putting in the effort.”

Logan’s hand twitched slightly, hesitantly reaching out until it brushed yours, fingers tentative. “I know. I ain’t makin’ excuses, just… tellin’ you the truth. I’m not good at apologies. Never have been.”

You watched him for a long moment, the careful honesty in his eyes slowly chipping away at your anger. “Maybe it doesn’t have to be a perfect apology,” you said gently. “Maybe it just needs to be real.”

He nodded slightly, throat working as he forced the words out. “I’m sorry, Y/N. For what I said, for pushin’ you away, for makin’ you feel like I didn’t care. I do. More than you know.”

You let out a slow breath, your shoulders relaxing a little as the words sank in. “That’s all I needed, Logan. Just that.”

He sighed softly, relief evident in the slump of his shoulders. His fingers tightened around yours, more confident now. “So, you stayin’?”

You hesitated, looking down at your entwined fingers, the comfort and warmth of his touch grounding you in a way you’d desperately missed. “Only if you promise we’re done with the silent treatment. I can’t keep living like that. If we fight, we talk it out. Even if it’s hard.”

He gave a low, rough chuckle, a faint smile flickering briefly across his face. “Deal. Even if I’m terrible at it.”

“I’ll take terrible over nothing,” you murmured, smiling softly despite yourself. “At least it’s a start.”

Slowly, Logan reached out, carefully wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you gently against him. You sighed, relaxing into his familiar warmth, exhaustion and relief mingling together until you felt tears stinging your eyes.

“I really am sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered, lips brushing gently against your temple. “I ain’t ever meant to hurt you.”

“I know,” you whispered back quietly, your voice soft but firm. “But you did. And that means you have to make it right.”

“I will,” he promised quietly, his voice rough with sincerity. “Whatever it takes.”

You nodded against his chest, allowing yourself to finally relax fully into his embrace. It wouldn’t fix everything—not immediately, at least—but it was a start. And right now, that was enough.

For the first time in days, the silence that fell between you was comfortable. The tension was still there, buried beneath careful apologies and cautious promises, but finally, you felt hope beginning to thread its way back into your heart.

And tonight, as you allowed Logan to hold you close again, you knew with quiet certainty that no matter how frustrating he could be, no matter how stubborn and closed-off he seemed, he was worth the effort.

And finally, finally, you were sure—without a shadow of a doubt—that Logan believed you were worth the effort too.

[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

[psuejo]

❥ sinners!au toji...😓

“hey, baby.” scar stretched wide with his grin. “let me in, yeah?”

you should say no. you know you should, especially with rumors of vampires running around at night, sucking stragglers dry or turning sweet neighbors into viscous beasts. it’s not safe, and it’s beyond rare for toji to genuinely ask for permission.

but maybe you’re touch-starved or ovulating or something, because you let him in, a small smile on your face and heat pooling between your thighs.

you might regret it in the morning, when the sun makes your skin bubble and the smell of garlic makes you gag, but not now, not when toji is rutting into you from behind, one thick arm wrapped around your marked neck. each thrust batters that weeping tip against your spongey cervix, and you swear he’s trying to fuck you through the damn mattress.

hell, maybe he is.

he was strong before — at least six feet of unadulterated muscle with the smarts to match — and he’s always been rough in bed. it’s just how he is.

now, though?

he’s like an animal.

“hnngh, t-toji—” you moan, drool dribbling down your chin and landing on that thick, pulsing bicep. your head is light, thoughts swamped beneath sheer pleasure, and each breath that passes through your swollen, parted lips is accompanied by a slight wheeze.

his head is right beside yours, dark fringe falling in front of his eyes as toji nips at the lobe of your ear, pearly incisors nearly piercing the tender skin. nearly, but not quite. after all, he’s never been in the habit of actually hurting you.

by no means is he a good person, and you know it, but even he knows where to draw the line.

toji chuckles, low and gravelly in your ear. “mmf, shit, what’s wrong, doll? can’t take it? t-too much for ya?” his hand trails down your front, delivering a swift swat to your drooling mound, and you yelp.

music to my damn ears.

his rough fingers glisten with your slick, and it’s almost sinful how quickly saliva rushes to his mouth, threatening to spill past his lips. you can hear him gulp, almost feel his adam’s apple bobbing.

the squelches following the next three smacks are lewd and loud, pussy sobbing, and you can’t tell whether it’s for more or for him to stop. honestly, it doesn’t even matter, not when every drag of his throbbing cock through your walls has your eyes rolling back and tears pooling on your waterline.

“filthy thing,” he tuts. “got all this vampire shit goin’ on, and here you are, moaning like yer in heat.”

like he isn’t groaning and moaning, broad chest plastered right against your slick back, as if toji can’t stand to be apart. it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins, and he intends to keep it that way.

you shake your head, mind scrabbling to smack together a coherent sentence. hard to, though, when every snap of his hips jumbles you up. “y-yeah, ngh, but you’re here too.”

toji cocks a brow. smart girl.

but he can’t have you thinking too hard. he shifts his hips, angling the crown of his cock to hit that sweet spot and push any intelligent thoughts right out of that pretty head.

“couldn’t leave ya by yourself, ma. ain’t— fuck... ain’t safe,” he groans, and his dick gives a happy twitch inside of you when you clamp down on him like a vice.

he’ll be damned if something happens to you.

the bed creaks beneath you two, and if you could hear over the sound of slick skin slapping against skin and both of your noises, then you’d probably hear wood splintering.

oh, well.

you’re so close it almost hurts, an insistent tightening in your gut that has you digging into the sheets. “ah, f-fuck... right there, mmngh—!”

toji doesn’t stop, only letting his pace grow sloppy when you cum, tears streaming down the side of your face and squirt spraying the sheets. your teeth sink into the meat of his arm, a mix of blood and drool trickling down his pale skin, and he cums right then and there with, if you had a sliver of coherency, what you swear is a whimper.

he’s emptying his balls — hot ropes of cum fill your womb like he has a point to prove, mouth laving at your shoulder. “mm, s-shit, pretty girl... fuck.”

he hasn’t cum that hard in months. must be that new vampire blood.

[katemoneymartinsgf]

Can you do a pazzi fic of Azzi coming to Dallas to move Paige in and stay with her for training camp until she has to go on a cruise with her family but them comes Paige in Dallas and they are all happy and sappy and in love

Separation Anxiety final bosses |pazzi|

a/n: guys i’m so locked in send more prompts pls 🙏🏽

The apartment wasn’t exactly a disaster.
It was just... very Paige.

There were shoes on the counter. A jersey draped over the microwave. An empty water jug Paige claimed was “aesthetic” but had no actual function. Azzi was currently standing in the middle of it, holding two unopened boxes and trying to figure out which one said “kitchen” and which one Paige had probably labeled in Sharpie at 3 a.m. as a joke.

“You brought six pairs of Crocs,” Azzi said flatly.

Paige looked up from where she was trying to get her TV to recognize the Wi-Fi.

“They all have different moods.”

Azzi blinked. “They’re all the basically the same color dude”

“Yeah, but like... emotionally different.”

Azzi set the boxes down and leaned against the counter with a soft smile. She was in sweats, her hair up, looking effortlessly good in a way that Paige couldn’t even process, running on 3 hours of sleep.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Azzi muttered.

“Obsessed with me,” Paige corrected, walking by and bumping her hip as she passed.

Azzi grabbed her shirt as she moved and pulled her in for a quick kiss.
“Don’t push it p.”

“She not a lesbian, for P, she turn Pesbian” paige said in a sing song way

“and moment over” Azzi said pushing paige slightly away.

“aw”

——

The next day azzi joins paige at the dallas practice

Azzi sat at the top of the bleacher — hoodie up, legs crossed, a half-full coffee in her hand — watching Paige run drills.

She wasn’t trying to be seen.
She wasn’t trying to make a thing of it.

She was just there.
Focused. Present.

Paige caught her eye after a making a three and grinned.
She didn’t say anything, but the energy changed — sharper, lighter, better.

Some of her teammates noticed.

"That your girl azzi over there?" Dijonai asked during water break, nodding toward the far wall.

Paige didn’t even try to play it cool.
“All mine” she said looking over at her.

Azzi looked up like she knew something had been said. Paige shot her a wink. Azzi didn’t react much — just raised her cup in a mock toast and smiled behind it, tiny and soft.

After practice, Paige walked over, towel around her neck, chest still rising fast.

“You didn’t have to come,” she said, trying for casual.

Azzi tilted her head. “And miss that buzzer beater you forced for no reason?”

Paige laughed, then leaned in to bump her forehead against Azzi’s.
“You make me play better,” she mumbled, quiet now.

Azzi rolled her eyes. “I’m literally just sitting here.”

Paige grinned. “Exactly.”

——

They go home after practice, Paige’s body hurts, Azzi helps her ice her knee, and the emotions finally hit because it's their last night together.

They didn’t talk about it all day.

It only hit when the movie ended and neither of them moved to put something else on.
Azzi was tucked into Paige’s side on the couch, as usual , blanket wrapped around both of them, the last of the popcorn cold on the coffee table.

“You leave tomorrow,” Paige said quietly.

Azzi didn’t answer at first. Just nodded into her shoulder.

“I’m not ready,” Paige added, softer.

“I know.”

There was a beat of silence. Paige rubbed circles against Azzi’s arm. Azzi exhaled like she’d been holding it in for hours.

“I’ll FaceTime you every day.”

“You better.”

“Twice a day.”

Paige smiled a little, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Azzi leaned up to kiss her jaw, her temple, the edge of her mouth.
“You’re gonna do great.”

“I’d do better with you here.”

Azzi’s voice cracked just a little when she said, “It’s only a week, i’ll be here right after the cruise.”

——

They didn’t say much on the drive.

Paige kept one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console between them. Azzi laced their fingers together somewhere between the apartment and the airport and never let go.

It was just a week. A family cruise.
They’d both said it. Out loud. Multiple times.
It still didn’t feel like enough.

At the terminal, Paige got out first and opened the trunk, grabbing Azzi’s suitcase and setting it gently on the curb. Her jaw was tight. Her eyes kept flicking toward Azzi like she was trying to memorize everything before she walked away.

Azzi stepped in close — close enough to make Paige lean into it instinctively.

“I’ll be back right after,” Azzi said.

“I know.” Paige’s voice was quiet. “Still sucks.”

Azzi gave a small huff of a laugh, like she didn’t trust herself to say more.

Paige reached out, fingers curling into the edge of her hoodie. “I hate being away from you.”

“I know.”

They stood there in silence for a second.
Then Paige’s eyes flicked up — toward the line of cars, the security checkpoint, the couple two lanes over. She looked around.

Azzi did too.

Paige leaned in and kissed her — real, warm, full of things she wasn’t good at saying out loud.
Not rushed. Not just a goodbye.
A hold on to this kind of kiss.

Azzi kissed her back, one hand resting lightly on Paige’s waist. They pulled apart slowly, like neither of them wanted to move first.

“I love you,” Azzi whispered.

Paige’s eyes softened. “I love you more.”

Azzi smiled — small and tired and full.

“You’re not alone here,” she reminded her. “You’re gonna be fine.”

Paige nodded, like she was trying to believe it.

Azzi kissed her again — this time just a gentle press against the corner of her mouth. Then she squeezed her hand once, stepped back, and disappeared into the crowd.

Paige stood there for a full minute.
And when she finally got in the car, she found a sticky note in the cup holder.
It said:
You’re gonna kill it. Don’t cry too hard. I love you.

——

Paige didn’t know she was coming.

Practice had just ended. She was sweaty, exhausted, annoyed at herself for missing two free throws during a scrimmage —
and then she walked into her apartment and dropped her bag and froze.

Because Azzi was standing in the kitchen.
In a hoodie Paige had been looking for all week.
Eating grapes like she lived there.
Which, to be fair, she kind of did.

“Surprise,” Azzi said, like it was casual.

Paige didn’t even think.
She crossed the room in two seconds flat, picked Azzi up like it was nothing, and spun her in a full circle.

“Thank god” she breathed.

Azzi laughed against her shoulder. “Hi.”

“You said Sunday— It’s Thursday— You lied— I love you so much.”

Paige kissed her face — cheek, temple, mouth, jaw — like she didn’t know where to land.
Azzi just let it happen, fingers curling into the back of Paige’s shirt.

They ended up curled together on the couch again, blanket thrown over their legs, Paige clinging like she’d melt if she let go.

——

Azzi shifted a little, head tucked into Paige’s shoulder, voice quieter now.

“It’s only been a few days,” she said. “And I already missed you so much it hurt.”

Paige stilled, barely breathing.

Azzi kept going.
“What about when I’m back at school? When we’re both in season again? And if I get drafted somewhere even farther—”

Paige didn’t let her finish.

“Hey,” she whispered.

Azzi blinked up at her.

Paige brushed a hand against her cheek, her thumb gentle beneath Azzi’s eye like she was afraid the emotion might spill over.

“It’s okay to miss me,” Paige said softly. “I miss you every time I turn around and you’re not there.”

Azzi didn’t say anything. Just watched her. Felt her heart crack a little more with how calm Paige was — like she knew she’d hold them together no matter what.

“You’re it for me,” Paige said, voice steady. “Distance doesn’t change that.”

Azzi pressed her forehead to Paige’s.

“Sometimes I hate how much I believe you.”

Paige smiled, pulled her even closer.
“I’ll keep proving it ‘til you don’t have to.”

They stayed like that — warm and tangled and still — and when Paige eventually fell asleep mid-sentence, Azzi didn’t let go.

Not even a little.

[hybbart]

can you pls do something with the ranchers while it’s hot for them cause it 27celcious in the uk and I’m dead

That time of the year where you can spend all day outside again.

Lucky, it's not 27 here yet it's in the 20-25 range rn, but hopefully it'll get to that perfect temperature in a week or two! I'm so happy it's good weather again, I can finally leave my house for more than 5 minutes.

[missconchshell]

I loved this new episode of Miraculous! Oh my gosh, I didn't even realize it was coming out, but I'm so happy it did!

I've never been too too attached to either Marc or Nathaniel, but this episode really won me over! It was neat getting to see both of their parents, and show just how much of a difference unconditional support can make. It really reminded of just how lucky I am that my own parents are so accepting.

I also love the contrast in the setting as well, with Nathaniel's family physically further apart, while Marc and his parents are all bunched together on the same couch. I feel like the show has been putting in a lot more care into framing and the setup of scenes this season, and I'm all for it!

Also, this is one of the first times I've seen their new designs up close, and I'm a huge fan! Love all the little details, like Marc's eye makeup, Nathaniel's self-painted shoes and his wavy little hairclip. Just look at the happy boy!

Now, onto the meat of the episode. Nathaniel's passions (and by association himself) being rejected by his parents did get me to tear up. It hurt and felt so real, I'm amazed to see this sorta thing in a show like Miraculous.

I felt so bad watching him destroy his work and try and force himself to conform to his parents' expectations. It was a very realistic picture of this type of struggle, and is definitely something I and I'm sure many others have struggled with before. And I was shocked at how blunt the writers got with the implied homophobia with lines from his mom about making Nathaniel "go straight."

Then once it got onto the mom being named Ruler, I just kinda started laughing, like, oh, they weren't gonna be subtle at all!

And dang Lila, willing to even use homophobia to get those miraculous. Tsk tsk.

The Akuma's power was definitely pretty creepy, like I hate these eyes so much, but Lila got really dang close to getting those miraculous this time, far more than any of Gabe's minion-based akumas! And despite this being the billionth time Chat Noir's been controlled, the physicality of the animation and voice acting did a decent job of making it funny.

It was also neat that the Akuma's powers got to be used against them, with Nathaniel finally stepping forth and taking back control from his mother (side note: I loved his transformation literally having him come out of the closet, the animators knew exactly what they were doing).

I know I've ignored them most of the episode, but I will say that Marinette and Adrien were adorable as usual! And I love that he feels comfortable enough with her to tease!

Then there was the ending. I'm so glad Nathaniel's parents came to accept his love of comics (and Marc). It was a sweet moment of acceptance that not everyone is lucky enough to have, so I'm glad we at least got a happy ending here.

I also really appreciate that little serious moment at the very end. I was expecting more Lila dialogue when the ominous music started playing, but having a serious moment where they discuss how they're attacked simply living their lives was a sad but pleasant surprise. It's cool that they're acknowledging a reality that so many people face every day. But I'm so glad these boys have each other in this!

And even if I know for a fact that the identity reveal is going to blow up in their faces one day based on the show's history, it still was so adorable and I loved the scene! Just the joy on each of their faces, knowing they're not alone, was so sweet!

Overall, I'm just really impressed with the writers this season! They're tackling a lot more serious topics in these one-off episodes, and honestly doing it far better than I ever expected from this silly love-square show. So many of these stories have resonated with me, and it's been really neat getting to see so much representation of different struggles. And it's especially cool to think about how these episodes could meaningfully impact the show's younger audience as well! These are the sorts of things I wish I saw more of growing up, it would have changed little miss shell's world for the better. So, keep up the good work Miraculous Team!

[itsnesss]

Please charles leclerc x american shy!reader? Shy!reader knows nothing about racing but Charles feels warm and happy that shy!reader watches him race or practicing racing. You can add this if you want so Every time he wins, they go to his car and have heavy car sex the back of the car seats just 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲

𝐢 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | charles leclerc × fem!reader

summary | you're shy, know nothing about racing but charles wins, and loves you for being there. you celebrate in the backseat

warnings | shy!reader, fluff, smut, explicit content, soft dominance, public/semi-public setting (car), emotional intimacy, after-race tension

word count | 1.2 k

🖇️ more cl16 🖇️ f1 masterlist

You never thought you’d end up sitting in a paddock, with earplugs in, watching a series of fast cars zoom past you with a roar you could barely endure. You didn’t understand a single thing happening on the track. The timings, the strategies, the tires… it was like another language. But there you were, in a world that wasn’t yours, simply because he was there.

Charles.

The boy who spoke with a sweet accent, who smiled as if the sun rose just for him, who had the warmest eyes you’d ever seen. The boy who, for some reason you still didn’t understand, had chosen you.

You, the shy one. The American lost in Monaco. The girl who hid behind her hair when someone looked too directly at her. The one who couldn’t hold a conversation with strangers without blushing. Sometimes you wondered what he saw in you. Other times, when he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered… you just believed it.

"Are you okay?" he’d asked you that morning, adjusting your Ferrari cap before entering the circuit.

"Yeah… just a little nervous," you admitted quietly, your fingers playing with the hem of your shirt.

Charles leaned in and kissed your forehead, as if that could calm the thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach every time he was near.

"I’m going to win today," he said confidently. "And I’m doing it for you."

You didn’t know much about racing, but you knew those words meant something. Because Charles raced for millions, for a team, for his country. But that time, he said he was racing for you.

And he did.

You watched as his car crossed the line first, as the crowd erupted in cheers, as his team jumped up celebrating. You didn’t understand any of it, but your eyes filled with tears. Because you knew what it meant. You knew how happy he was in that moment.

And you knew what came next.

Charles took off his helmet, hair soaked in sweat, with the brightest smile you’d ever seen on him. He came straight to you, not caring about the cameras or the shouting.

"Let’s go," he whispered, taking your hand.

You knew where you were going. He didn’t say it, but you knew.

The garage was empty when you arrived. The adrenaline still buzzed under his skin as he opened the back door of his car and helped you in.

"I love it when you come watch me race," he murmured as he leaned over you.

"I don’t understand anything you do," you whispered.

"Doesn’t matter," he smiled. "What matters is that you’re here."

His voice grew softer, more intimate, as his hands started to trace your waist.

"Can I show you how much that means to me?"

And you just nodded.

You adjusted yourself in the back seat while he gently closed the door. Outside, the circuit’s noise still echoed faintly, but inside, the world seemed to fall silent. It was just the two of you, breathing the same air charged with emotion and desire.

Charles sat beside you, his eyes fixed on you like he was trying to memorize everything. His hand reached up to your cheek, caressing it with a tenderness that made you shiver.

"You’re so beautiful…" he whispered with that accent that always made your knees weak.

He kissed you slowly, patiently, like he had all the time in the world. Your fingers tangled in his shirt as he settled above you, guiding you gently to lie back. The leather seat creaked beneath the shared weight. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a warm, wet path that lit you up from the inside.

"Every time I win," he said between kisses, "I just want to do this. Come to you. Touch you. Be with you like this."

His confession made your cheeks burn, but you didn’t look away. You believed him. You saw it in his eyes, in the way he touched you with such reverence, like you were his greatest trophy.

Your clothes disappeared between whispers and soft caresses. So did his. He took his time, as if he didn’t want to rush, as if every second with you was sacred.

When he finally settled over you, both of you naked, your bodies so close there was almost no air between you, he caressed your face again and asked in a murmur:

"Are you okay?"

You nodded, breathless, your heart about to explode.

"Yeah… always, with you."

He took your hips in both hands and looked into your eyes. You didn’t look away. You felt his body join yours in a way so perfect, so natural, it felt like you’d always been this way. His hips moved with steady rhythm, each thrust deeper, more intense. The car creaked slightly with the motion, a nearly musical sound that mingled with his muffled groans and your breathless sighs.

The back seat seemed to shrink with every movement, as if it were wrapping you both in a more intimate embrace. His fingers traced your body gently, like he wanted to memorize every curve. The side window began to fog up with his ragged breathing, creating a private world just for you two.

"I love you so much," he gasped in your ear, his voice rough with effort and passion.

And you, with words lost in the flood of sensation, could only reply in a whisper that sounded almost like a prayer:

"I love you too… I do."

And there, surrounded by the scent of leather and the distant echo of the circuit, you found your own rhythm, your own shared victory in the secret of that stolen moment. A moment that was just yours, one that made you feel that even though the world kept turning outside, here, in this small space, everything was perfect.

When it was all over, when you had reached that peak together, Charles collapsed beside you, still panting, his chest rising and falling with effort. He turned toward you, took your hand, and kissed it with that old-fashioned charm you adored.

"That was incredible," he said with a playful smile. "As always."

You smiled, your face still flushed.

"I like how you celebrate your wins," you murmured, hiding your face in his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close, and whispered:

"As long as you’re my prize, it’ll always be perfect."

Charles Leclerc had won more than a race that afternoon. He had won your heart, again and again. And as you both stepped out of the car, hand in hand, you knew that every one of his victories would always be yours too.

"I love you," he said in your ear, just before losing control.

And you did too. You loved him with every fiber of your being, with every breath, with every shiver.

Later, when your bodies relaxed, Charles didn’t move. He just held you tight, like he never wanted to let you go.

"Thank you for coming today," he said softly.

"I don’t understand this world… but I do understand you," you replied, your fingers entwining with his.

He smiled against your temple.

"That’s all I need."

[nephynes]

You were just Heeseung’s girlfriend’s cousin—quiet, polite, a little too naive for your own good. Then you met his friends. Now you’re in the middle of a spiraling mess of jealousy, bad decisions, emotional whiplash and two boys who treat boundaries like suggestions. Oops.

•minors do not interact

•park sunghoon x afab reader x jake sim

•wc: 33k (i’m so sorry)

•genre: slow burn, darkish? fic, angst, smut

•content tags: SMUT, toxic friendships, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, jealousy, angst, character conflict, questionable decision-making, emotional tension, verbal degradation, crying, physical altercation, unhealthy coping mechanisms, complex feelings, power imbalance, mentions of blood, depictions of anxious behavior, manipulative dynamics, sunghoon speaks in italics, jake has issues, messy people being messy, mentions of enhypen’s heeseung and lesserafim’s yunjin. not proofread.

•a/n: this got a little out of hand. everyone in this is insane and needs therapy (except maybe yunjin). please remember this is fiction and not a guide to healthy relationships. enjoy the chaos.

•nsfw tags below

You don't know why you're still here, the music's too loud, the laughter too sharp and the room too small for how much it feels like it's pressing against you, closing you in. You're not even sure how you ended up here, or why you let Yunjin drag you out when you knew damn well it was going to be one of those nights. She's busy talking to someone else now, lost in the chaos, and you're left to wander, like always.

You clutch your cup tighter, not because you want more to drink but because it's the only thing grounding you. It's plastic, cheap, and it's all that's standing between you and the clamor of this stupid, stupid party. The people around you are so loud, so unapologetically themselves. Everyone's happy, laughing, drinking, talking with their friends, and you? You're just another face in the crowd, a blur, standing on the edge of it all.

There's a group of girls dancing by the window, the kind of girls who laugh too loud, talk too much, their bright colors making it clear they've got more attention than you ever will. You want to look away, but your eyes keep dragging back, following them as if your brain can't help but analyze the way their bodies move, the way they shine so effortlessly. And then, you wonder how they'd look if you were in the center of their circle, taking the place of one of them, laughing, dancing, without a care in the world. You can almost see it, but the picture feels blurry, like it's just out of reach.

Somewhere across the room, you spot a couple making out by the fridge, their hands wandering, the slapping sound of wet lips and muffled giggles piercing through the noise. The guy's hands wander lower, and she pulls him in closer, her body shifting beneath him. It's normal, you think, but the weird feeling in your stomach twists deeper. You've always felt like an outsider in these situations. These people, they know what they're doing, know how to have fun, know how to look and act in the moment. You never really fit in like that.

You glance around again. There's a guy on the couch talking too loudly, probably trying to impress someone with some half-baked story, and another girl, looking over at him like she's interested but not enough to give him her full attention. You catch bits of conversations, fragments, half-formed words and laughing sentences that don't make sense to you. People throwing their heads back and laughing like it's the easiest thing in the world. And you're standing there, holding your cup like it's a shield, too afraid to walk into any of it, too scared to be a part of it.

You sigh, letting your gaze wander to the corner by the stairs, where a few of the guys are hanging out. They're laughing, but their laughter sounds different from the others. Louder, sharper. There was something about observing everyone else that made you feel detached, almost like an outsider. Heeseung, of course, was the life of the party, laughing loudly with friends, always the center of attention. His presence demanded it, naturally. And then there was Sunghoon, looking as composed as ever, standing off to the side with his arms crossed, watching the room with his usual detached gaze.

But what caught your attention most in that moment was Jake. The chaos of the party seemed to swirl around him like he was at the eye of the storm. You caught a glimpse of him near the drinks table, his usual smirk on his face as he chatted with a girl who was all doe-eyed and giggling, the kind of girl who looked like she'd fall for anything he said. He didn't seem bothered by the attention, though.

In fact, he seemed...pleased.

You watched, your heart picking up pace, as he gently guided the girl toward Sunghoon. Jake's hand rested at the small of her back, his smile playful and effortlessly charming as he introduced the girl to Sunghoon. The moment wasn't anything special on the surface, but the way Jake's hand lingered, the way Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable... it sent an unexpected ripple of discomfort through you.

It wasn't just the way Jake stood so confidently, so familiar with the girl, but the way Sunghoon's lips curved upwards—slightly, ever so slightly—into something that resembled a smile. It was the first time you'd seen him genuinely show any hint of warmth toward someone in this room, especially a stranger.

Sunghoon took the girl's hand delicately, raising it to his lips in a soft, almost theatrical gesture, kissing her knuckles with a quiet grace that didn't match the chaos of the party. His gaze flickered briefly to the girl, and then back to Jake. You couldn't hear the words they exchanged, but the scene itself was enough to make your stomach tighten, an odd mix of curiosity and something heavier—something that felt like jealousy, though you quickly pushed that feeling aside.

The girl blushed, her smile sweet as she laughed at something Sunghoon said. You couldn't help but notice how easy it was for her to slip into this world, how effortlessly she fit into the social dynamic that you were still trying to make sense of.

And then your eyes caught Sunghoon's gaze—just for a moment. His eyes met yours across the room, cold and distant, before he blinked and shifted his attention back to the girl in front of him. But it wasn't the usual indifference you were used to; there was something there, something flickering beneath his cool exterior that made your heart skip a beat. But then it was gone, and he was back to his composed self, nodding politely at whatever the girl was saying.

You shook your head, blinking away the strange feeling of being left behind. You had no reason to be affected by any of this, right? You were just... observing. That was all..

You shift your weight, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little too fast. You wonder what he's thinking, or if he's thinking anything at all. He never really pays attention to you. At least, that's how it feels. Sunghoon's the kind of person who sees everything but says nothing. He can be in a room full of people and somehow make you feel like you're invisible. Like it doesn't matter if you're there, or not. But you know better. Deep down, you know he notices. He has to. Why else would you feel like your pulse quickens every time he's near?

You turn your eyes away from the corner and try to focus on something, anything else, but your mind keeps drifting back to them. To him. To the way the whole room feels different when he's around. You wonder if they all see it — the way he stands apart from everyone else, like he's above it all. And you wonder if they notice that you're always the one looking at him, the one too afraid to be noticed, but always noticing him. Your breath hitches slightly as you feel the weight of your own thoughts.

There's a sudden burst of laughter nearby, and someone bumps into you, startling you out of your thoughts. You almost spill your drink, but you catch it just in time. Your hands tremble slightly, and you hate yourself for it, because who the hell gets nervous in a crowded room full of drunk people?

The night is too long. It's too much. It's too overwhelming.

And just when you think you've had enough, just when you're about to leave and find a quiet place to breathe, someone grabs your wrist gently but firmly.

"Hey, are you okay?"

It's Yunjin. Again. Her eyes are softer now, concerned.

You blink up at her, not even realizing you'd been holding your breath. She's got that knowing look on her face, like she can see right through you.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. You're not okay, but what's the point in admitting it?

Yunjin doesn't buy it. "You're not fooling anyone. Loosen up. Let go. It's just a party."

You swallow, then force a smile. "Yeah, just a party."

She gives you one last look before pulling you toward the kitchen, ready to distract you with something, anything to get you out of your head. You follow her, only half-present in the moment, lost in thoughts of someone who probably doesn't even know you exist.

The music is a dull hum in the background as Heeseung finds you and Yunjin. He looks a little too smug, like he's up to something. You feel a sinking feeling in your stomach as his eyes flash between you and Yunjin, and you know exactly what's coming.

"You two," Heeseung grins, "let's go say hi to the boys. They're over by the back corner."

You immediately freeze. No. No way. You'd rather do just about anything else than walk up to that corner of the room. It's always them, always Jake and Sunghoon, always that strange tension that makes everything feel ten times harder than it needs to be.

Yunjin, surprisingly, seems to read the atmosphere instantly. "Heeseung, no. We're good. Let's just—"

But before she can finish, Heeseung's already dragging her along, and of course, that means you have no choice but to follow. You want to protest, but the words catch in your throat. You could leave, but that would make you look like a coward. So, you trudge after them, barely registering the shifting in the crowd as Heeseung pulls you both toward the back.

As you approach, you see them. Sunghoon, leaning against the wall like he owns the place, his eyes cold but somehow piercing. He's not looking at you, and the familiar ache in your chest stirs again. And then there's Jake, that infuriating, charming, always-too-confident smile on his face. He's leaning toward Sunghoon, whispering something in his ear, and for a brief moment, Sunghoon's lips curl up into a rare smile—an actual, genuine one. Your heart lurches in your chest, an unfamiliar feeling tightening your throat.

It's the kind of smile you rarely get to see from him. It's like a secret just for Jake, a look of camaraderie you'll never be a part of. It almost feels like you've just been slapped. Why does it bother you so much?

And then, before you can even process the feeling, Heeseung's already talking to them about something you can't hear over the thrum of your heartbeat

Jake, not missing a beat, looks over at you with that mischievous glint in his eyes, smiling like he just found his favorite toy unattended. His lips curve into that damn teasing smirk that makes your stomach churn.

"Well, well, well," Jake begins, leaning in a little too close, voice dripping with something far too cocky, "look who finally showed up, Sunghoon's biggest fan" His eyes scan you up and down, like he's not even trying to hide how much he's enjoying seeing you squirm.

You swallow, trying to keep your expression neutral, but you know your face is probably betraying you. The red creeping up your neck is only the start of it and like clockwork the memory of that damn day starts playing in your head, that damn art show.

The school art show wasn't your idea of fun, not by a long shot. It was all cliché stuff—overpriced paintings no one understood, weird sculptures that looked like junk, and way too many people pretending to care about the "emerging artists." You hated those events, but Yunjin had dragged you there because Heeseung had convinced her it'd be "fun", at the time you had even wondered if this was what your life would amount to, Yunjin dragging you everywhere Heeseung drags her too, You wanted to be anywhere else that night but there you were, standing in the middle of a sea of pretentious art students, holding a plastic cup of wine that tasted like it was from a box, trying to look like you belonged.

You were trying to blend into the background, holding your drink like a shield. You hated how awkward you always felt around people you didn't know, how out of place you were in spaces like that. But that wasn't the part that had bothered you. No, what hit you hardest was when you saw him.

Sunghoon.

He was standing across the room by a few abstract paintings, his expression as unreadable as ever, hands shoved into the pockets of his blazer, looking as out of place as you felt. You could never fully decipher what was going on in his head, but it didn't stop you from trying. He was stunning, impossibly cool, like he belonged in a different world, not the sweaty, underfunded art gallery that smelled like paint fumes.

You didn't know how long you'd been staring at him until you felt the weight of someone standing beside you. When you glanced over, it was Jake, his usual smirk plastered across his face. He didn't even need to say anything, not really. You could tell by the look in his eyes that he already knew.

"Interesting, huh?" Jake's voice was low, teasing, like he was reading you like a book and you were too obvious for him to care.

Your heart skipped, heat creeping into your cheeks, but you just shrugged, trying to play it cool. "Not really. I'm just looking around."

But Jake wasn't buying it. His gaze flicked over to Sunghoon, then back to you, sharp and calculating. He raised an eyebrow. "Right," he said, his tone dripping with mock amusement. "You sure you're not looking at him?"

Your stomach dropped. The way he said it was casual, too casual, like he was testing the waters, but you felt your pulse quicken. No. This couldn't be happening. You could feel the blood rush to your face, betraying you. The truth was, you were looking at him. It was hard not to. Sunghoon had a way of standing in a room and making everyone else feel irrelevant. But of course, you couldn't admit that to his demon of a best friend, not now, not ever.

You turned away quickly, pretending to focus on some abstract art that was meant to be a painting of a tree but looked more like a tangle of colorful spaghetti. "I wasn't—"

Jake didn't let you finish. He stepped closer, his voice a little too loud, cutting through the low hum of the party. "You know, you're really obvious sometimes."

You froze. The words burned, like they were meant to sting.

"I mean, you're always so quiet around him, so careful not to look at him too much, like you're afraid he'll notice." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "But I noticed. I always notice."

You swallowed hard, your heart racing in your chest. You hadn't realized it was that obvious. Had you really been that transparent? You'd tried so hard to hide it, but it felt like every single moment around him was a magnet that pulled your attention back to Sunghoon, even when you didn't want it to.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you muttered, trying to backpedal, but Jake was already laughing, low and knowing. He was enjoying this. He was enjoying the fact that you couldn't hide from him, not anymore.

"No need to deny it," he'd said, leaning in a little too close, his smirk practically leaking into his words. "It's cute. How you've got it so bad for him. But you're not the only one who notices, you know? And don't even bother you're way too plain for...well, anyone." He nodded in Sunghoon's direction, and your heart froze at the thought of him knowing too.

Before you could even form a response, Jake was already walking off, leaving you standing there, your thoughts spiraling. The rest of the art show blurred into the background as you watched Sunghoon from the corner of your eye. He was talking to a group of people, his expression still cold, his gaze distant. He wasn't even looking at you. Of course he wasn't. You were just another face in the crowd to him.

But for that brief, horrible moment, you felt completely exposed, like your deepest, stupidest secret was laid bare for everyone to see.

Jake had seen it all and made you feel bad for it like you were so wrong for even thinking about Sunghoon. All the thoughts and memories were quickly pushed out by Jake's laughter, his reaction to your stunned expression.

Before you can muster any response, Jake's voice lowers, and he asks, his tone far too casual, "So, did you touch yourself to the thought of him this morning? I mean, come on, it's not like you've been hiding it."

Your stomach drops. The world feels like it slows down as your cheeks burn with the harsh sting of embarrassment. You're about to say something, anything, but Yunjin immediately jumps in.

"Jake, stop," she snaps, her hand on his shoulder, trying to push him away but her voice doesn't hold the sharpness it needs. It sounds more like a half-hearted attempt at deflecting, not like someone who's genuinely defending you.

You can't even look at her, the humiliation swarms you, sinking in deeper as Jake's laugh fills the space between you all. It's mocking but there's something else in it too, something darker and of course, Sunghoon is just standing there, arms crossed, his expression still unreadable. He meets your eyes for a split second and for that brief moment, your chest feels tight, like the air's been sucked out of your lungs.

His gaze is cold, but there's something there. Is it judgment? Disinterest? You can't tell. Before you can make sense of it, he looks away, turning his attention back to the group, like the brief moment never happened. And that feeling—the one you've been trying to avoid all night—surges again. You want to disappear. You want to vanish into the floor, to leave this all behind. To not have to stand here, in front of them, where every word feels like a betrayal of yourself.

"Wow, she's really shy," Jake continues, noticing the red creeping up your neck, "don't worry, I won't tell anyone. Your little secret's safe with me." He says crossing his heart clearly to continue in his mockery of you.

Yunjin steps in front of you, her posture protective, though you can tell she's just as uncomfortable with the way Jake's been pushing. "Jake, seriously. Just, cut it out."

But Jake doesn't listen, of course he doesn't. He's too caught up in the fun of teasing, in watching you squirm under his words. He steps closer to you, leaning in, the space between you shrinking with every breath.

"Tell me, did you think about it when you were alone? How badly you want him, hmm? I bet you've been thinking about it for a while now." His words are so casual, but the intensity behind them has your heart racing, your hands shaking at your sides.

You don't know how to answer. You don't know how to respond without making it worse. The silence stretches too long. You feel the weight of everyone's gaze, even if most of it is on you, the heat of the room pressing in, suffocating you.

And Sunghoon—he just keeps ignoring you. Like he always does. Even now, when Jake is throwing all of this in your face, Sunghoon just looks away. He doesn't speak, doesn't even acknowledge the tension between you all. You're invisible to him, and that hurts more than anything else.

The world suddenly feels smaller. You want to crawl into a hole, to escape from the fire that Jake's started with his words but for some reason you can't. Not yet.

Yunjin doesn't know what to say anymore. The air is thick with the weight of unspoken things, the tension hanging between all of you, and nothing will be the same after this.

You didn't even realize your body had moved you to walk way until you hear Yunjin calling after you but you ignore her, you don't care, you need to leave, her voice fading with every step you take. You don't care about that look of pity Heeseung probably gave you slipped out of their presence, or that anyone else in that damn party even notices your absence. All you can focus on is the frantic pounding of your heart, the feeling of humiliation that's gnawing at your insides, like it's eating you from the inside out.

The cold night air hits your skin like an ice-cold slap, sharp enough to snap you back into some kind of reality, but not enough to stop the sting in your chest. You press your arms tighter around yourself, the thin fabric of your jacket doing little to protect you. The tears you don't want to cry keep falling, though they're dry now, the cold air sucking them away before they can even make it down your face.

You hate Jake.

You hate him so much.

How dare he? How fucking dare he see through you like that, so easily, like you were some pathetic little thing for him to toy with? Like you weren't even a person, just some... joke for him to laugh at, to humiliate. He knew exactly what he was doing when he cornered you like that, when he asked you about Sunghoon like it was the most casual thing in the world. He had to have known how you'd react, how fucking embarrassed you'd be. He had to have known.

And yet, he didn't stop. He didn't care.

Your thoughts spiral, each one more self-loathing than the last, each one making your chest tighten until it's hard to breathe. You should've known this was coming, right? You should've known it would end like this—Jake, smirking, tearing you apart with a couple of words, and Sunghoon... Sunghoon—who just... looked at you. Like you were nothing. Like you were invisible.

You didn't even have the strength to stay at that party. You couldn't even pretend to enjoy yourself. You were suffocating, choking on your own insecurities. Every breath felt heavier than the last, every step you took colder than the one before.

"God, I hate him..." The words slip out before you even realize you're speaking them, your voice shaking. You're not sure if you're talking about Jake or Sunghoon anymore, but in this moment, it feels like the same thing. Like both of them were the reason you were this miserable.

Your pace quickens, though you don't know why. Maybe it's the restlessness, the panic bubbling up in your chest that makes your heart race faster, like you can't get away from the thoughts, from the feelings fast enough. You can feel your chest tightening, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You can almost feel the anxiety creeping in, wrapping around you like chains.

You want to scream, but it gets stuck in your throat. You don't know how much longer you can keep it together, keep pretending like none of this is killing you inside.

The city lights flicker in the distance as you push through the cold, the emptiness of the streets echoing the emptiness in your chest. It feels like you're walking on autopilot, each step taking you further from the party, further from the night that just destroyed everything. It's not until you reach the alley by your apartment building that you stop, your back pressed against the cold brick wall, fighting to get control of yourself.

Breathe. Just breathe.

But even the simple task of breathing feels like too much. Your head is spinning, the world around you feels far away, like you're trapped inside your own head and can't escape.

You press a hand to your forehead, trying to steady yourself, but the dizziness doesn't go away. Everything's too loud. Your thoughts are too loud. Your own heartbeat is too loud.

You can't stop thinking about what Jake said, what he made you feel. And Sunghoon... he didn't even notice. Did he notice? Probably not. He never notices you. You weren't worth noticing.

Tears prick at your eyes again, and you curse under your breath, wiping them away furiously, but they keep coming. How could you be this weak? How could you let them both—Jake and Sunghoon—tear you apart so easily?

It feels like everything is unraveling, like you're losing control of the only thing you had left: yourself. And you want to scream, to punch something, to hit Jake and Sunghoon for making you feel this small.

But instead, you just stand there, on the sidewalk. feeling completely hollow inside, letting the cold air do what it does best—drown out the tears you couldn't stop.

*

Two weeks, that's how much time had passed since the night of the party, two weeks of you keeping your distance from both Jake and Sunghoon, not that you were ever willingly in their presence anyway—it was easy. You'd stayed firm, avoided every chance to interact with them, despite Yunjin's insistence that you needed to stop being so stubborn. You weren't about to let yourself be subjected to Jake's taunts and Sunghoon's indifference. So, you avoided them. Kept your head down, and kept to yourself.

Whenever Yunjin tried dragging you to Heeseung's apartment or anywhere you knew they would be, you'd fake an excuse, stand your ground, and avoid them like the plague. It had been too humiliating, too hurtful to let them into your space again. Jake's teasing, his knowing smirk when he'd drop hints about Sunghoon, about your obvious feelings—everything about it made your skin crawl. Sunghoon's lack of acknowledgment had only made it worse. You weren't sure what was worse: the way Jake tormented you or the way Sunghoon simply didn't care.

But today was different. Yunjin had made a big deal about a girls' day out. Just you and her, no boys allowed. You weren't sure how she convinced you to go, but you'd relented. You needed a break from everything—the pressure of avoiding people, the stress that kept mounting every time you had to walk past Jake, every time Sunghoon was just there.

So, you got dressed.

A simple dress—nothing too flashy, but it was enough to make you feel good about yourself, for the first time in weeks. The fabric clung just enough to your figure, and you paired it with simple sandals that didn't make you feel like you had to put on some act. It was just you, trying to feel a little more like yourself.

But then, of course, life had other plans.

You met Yunjin at Heeseung's apartment, ready to head out. She'd already slipped into a playful, teasing mood, chatting excitedly about the day ahead. But as you stepped through the door, you froze.

Jake and Sunghoon were sitting in the living room, you think about bolting, making a run for it. Why are they here anyway? Don't they have some super expensive off campus apartment?

You tried to avoid eye contact, hoping they wouldn't notice you, but of course, Jake's eyes were already on you, studying you in that way that made your skin prickle.

"Y/N," Jake drawls, voice warm like honey—if honey were made of gasoline and meant to burn. "You're looking... fuckable today."

Your mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

"What the actual—"

He's already pushing off the couch, making his way toward you like a predator who's just noticed his prey flinching. You take a step back instinctively, fingers gripping your phone like it could protect you.

Jake hums as he circles you. "You got a date? Some sweet campus boy finally grow the balls to ask you out?"

"I'm here for Yunjin," you bite out. "She's just grabbing something." You add, you yourself wondering why you're explaining it to him.

His eyes drag over your figure slowly. "Blue suits you."

You fold your arms over your chest. "Whatever game you're playing—"

But then his hand moves. Quick. Thoughtless.

He flips the hem of your dress up just enough to see the skin of your upper thighs and lets out a low whistle. "Damn, sweetheart. Who's the lucky guy today? Or lemme guess..."

He leans in, breath ghosting your ear, "You wore this for Sunghoon?" Your entire body stiffens and you glance past Jake's shoulder—expecting, maybe, for Sunghoon to roll his eyes, or finally say something to make Jake shut the hell up but he doesn't look at you.

He stays exactly where he is, face blank, eyes still trained on his phone like you don't even exist.

It stings more than it should.

You turn on your heel and head toward the door, heart thudding somewhere between your ribs and your throat

"Jake—" Yunjin started, her voice sharp, defensive, but it wasn't convincing. She didn't sound angry enough. Didn't sound protective enough. "Heeseung! Tell Jake to leave Y/N alone! For fucks sake". She says to her boyfriend but he just looks around like he doesn't want to get involved.

You wanted to disappear. Wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

You looked at Sunghoon again, hoping for a flicker of recognition, maybe even a hint of something. But no. His gaze was trained on something else entirely, indifferent to the scene Jake was creating. He didn't look up at you. Didn't acknowledge you at all.

And then, as if to prove that he'd never been part of this conversation, Sunghoon looked away towards the hallway.

You bit your lip to stop the tears from welling up, your throat tightening. The humiliation was unbearable. You didn't even care about Jake anymore, or what he said. What hurt was the fact that Sunghoon didn't even spare you a second glance.

"Jesus, Yunjin, relax," Jake continued, his voice light but dripping with mockery. "She's just dressed up. Can't blame me for noticing. Not like she's got anyone else to impress."

You wanted to scream. Wanted to say so many things, tell him to fuck off, tell him you weren't anyone's joke but you couldn't. You were stuck in that moment, frozen, watching as he mocked you.

You finally managed to move again, head low, pretending you were above it all, pretending it didn't hurt, but it did.

As you turned to leave, Jake's voice rang out again, as if he hadn't had enough of toying with you. "See you later, baby girl," he called after you, too casually, too easily. You're almost out. One hand's on the handle, back turned because you don't want to give Jake the satisfaction of seeing your face, or how flushed you feel.

But you pause against your better judgment and look back and see Sunghoon lean in to whisper something into Jake's ear his voice is low, soft. You barely hear it, just a whisper, meant only for Jake.

You don't catch the words—but you do catch Jake's reaction. He jerks his head toward Sunghoon, brows lifted in disbelief. "Are you fucking serious?" Jake mutters, like it's something vile. You don't wait to hear more, you're already out the door, the fabric of your dress still settling around your thighs, and your chest feels tight again. Not because of Jake but because you don't know what Sunghoon said.

And it's driving you crazy.

Yunjin is still babbling behind you, but you barely heard her.

You pressed your hand to your chest, feeling your heart thudding too fast. The burning in your throat was almost unbearable. You didn't even want to go out anymore. You didn't want to do anything. You were sick of feeling this way. Sick of the way Jake had gotten under your skin, sick of the way Sunghoon could make you feel like nothing without even trying.

The day blurred into night, the girls' day with Yunjin more of an exhausting performance than any kind of relief.

You laughed when she laughed, smiled when she took pictures, nodded along when she gushed about Heeseung and the shoes she wanted to buy next. You pretended. Pretended you weren't thinking about the way Jake flipped your dress like you were nothing but an object. Pretended your mind wasn't stuck on the mortifying second you caught Sunghoon not even looking at you.

You had tried.

And for a few moments, it almost worked until you were back alone in your dorm room, peeling the dress off like it was a brand you couldn't scrub off fast enough. The blue fabric lay crumpled at the foot of your bed, a mocking reminder of everything you wanted to forget.

You sat on the floor in front of your bed, knees pulled up to your chest, the textbook you were supposed to be reading long abandoned beside you. The words wouldn't sink in. Your brain was too loud, too crowded with shame. You couldn't stop replaying it, Jake's smirk, Yunjin's half-assed defense that reminded of when you were younger and her mum would make her play with you, Sunghoon's nothingness.

Your phone buzzed beside you. You didn't even think before reaching for it, needing any kind of distraction. It was a message from Jake's private instagram.

smjyn: you should let me fuck you in that blue dress, baby girl.

You stared at the screen, the bile rising in your throat so fast it nearly choked you. For a moment, you couldn't even breathe, then you were typing before you could stop yourself, your fingers moving too fast, too angry.

you: kill yourself.

You hit send, your heart hammering painfully against your ribs, the aftershock making your hands tremble. Jake didn't reply. You wished that was the end of it, you wished the night would just swallow you whole, let you sink into the silence, into the smallness you couldn't seem to shake off lately.

You tried to study. Opened the textbook again, blinked at the words until your eyes blurred. Your phone buzzed, you didn't want to look, every part of you screamed not to. But you did anyway and this time, it wasn't Jake.

It was from Sunghoon.

The username from the account you had endlessly stalked, made your stomach drop, made your fingers clench tighter around your phone. You had never texted before. He had never even looked at you like you existed, the message was short, almost careless.

parksgh: don't let jake get to you. he's just fucking around

You read it once, then again, and again. Your heart was lunging up into your throat, thudding painfully against your ribs. You hated how fast you moved to open it, hated how warm your cheeks got even though you knew better. You didn't know what to say back, you didn't even know if you should say anything back and it didn't even matter because by the time you thought about it long enough, he had already gone silent again.

Like the message itself had been a fluke. A mistake. A momentary lapse in his indifference. You set your phone down face-down on the carpet, your chest rising and falling too fast, your hands refusing to steady. You couldn't even remember what you were supposed to be studying anymore. All you could think about was the way his username looked lit up on your phone screen and how stupid you were for letting it mean something.

Your chest was tight, the weight of everything catching up with you all at once. It wasn't just the text; it was his name on your screen. You didn't know how to feel about it. He barely acknowledged you when you were in the same room, so why was he even texting you now?

You tried to resist but you couldn't help but type back.

you: okay, thank you

It felt like an awkward response, but you didn't know what else to say. It didn't even make sense that you were talking to him, you barely knew him and yet here you were, replying to his message like this was normal. You waited, breath held, for a reply, not sure what you were expecting but certainly not what came next.

parksgh: wyd

Your heart skipped a beat. What? He was asking what you were doing. Wyd?

You hadn't spoken before, he hadn't even looked at you in that way. So why was he reaching out now, like you were old friends? You sat frozen, staring at the words, your mind swirling in confusion.

The little bubble popped up again, a response almost immediately.

parksgh: you good?

Your brain stuttered as you tried to process it. This couldn't be real. Sunghoon—the guy who never said anything to you, the one who had barely looked at you, was texting you and not just some generic message, he was asking about you. You didn't know what to say, so you just typed something simple, something that wouldn't give anything away.

you: yeah, just tired

You waited, heart racing, unsure of what was going on. His responses kept coming. Short, blunt, and entirely unbothered.

parksgh: sounds like it, you been studying?

Another message came through as you were reading that one, making your head spin.

parksgh: you should get some sleep, it's kinda late no?

You didn't even know how to reply. He wasn't a friend, wasn't someone you were close with. Why was he being so... normal with you? But then, his next message made everything stop. A simple question, one that you couldn't even begin to understand.

parksgh: do you actually touch yourself while you think of me?

You froze. The air left your lungs. You couldn't breathe. The panic crept up your throat, your heart pounding violently as though it wanted to escape your chest. The words felt like a slap, hard and painful, as if your body was rejecting the sheer audacity of them. Your thoughts crashed together, the weight of what he was implying sinking in. You felt dizzy, like you were spiraling into something you couldn't control.

You couldn't—you couldn't—tell him the truth. That you had done what Jake had accused you of that night, that he was the star of all your wet dreams so instead you denied.  You scrambled to type your response, fingers shaking with the intensity of the emotions clawing at you.

you: no, no i don't. of course not.

You hit send almost too quickly, hoping the denial would settle your racing heart, but the seconds felt like hours as you waited for him to respond. Your hands were trembling, your breath shallow, as you tried to keep the panic at bay.

And then, after what felt like an eternity, there was nothing. You stared at your phone screen, willing the next message to come, but the minutes passed in silence. Your mind raced with confusion, frustration, and a strange, bitter emptiness. You tossed your phone aside, hoping the night would be over soon so you could just sleep and forget about everything, forget about him.

But of course, right when you were about to close your eyes, your phone buzzed. The message was simple, curt, and devastating.

parksgh: liar

You stared at the screen, your pulse still thundering in your ears. The word was a punch to your gut, sharp and cutting, like it was meant to tear something inside of you. You couldn't understand it, couldn't understand him but all you knew in that moment was that you were utterly, completely, lost.

You dropped your phone onto the floor like it burned.

You sat there for a minute, staring at your lap, feeling your face get hot, your chest get tight. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense.

Sunghoon had never said more than a casual hey when you'd bumped into him before. That was it, a polite, distant nod in a crowded hallway, a meaningless word tossed over his shoulder when Heeseung introduced you to the group once, barely even looking at you.

Now, he was accusing you of touching yourself while thinking about him? And calling you a liar when you denied it?

You scrubbed your hands over your face, willing the burning behind your eyes to go away. What the hell was happening?

You weren't close. You weren't even friends. You were just Yunjin's cousin, the quiet tagalong at parties you didn't want to be at, the awkward extra body in rooms you didn't belong in. Not the kind of girl Sunghoon would think twice about as Jake had said to you before. Definitely not the kind of girl Sunghoon would text.

But he had.

You leaned back against the frame of your bed, feeling the cold seeping through the concrete, feeling the ugly knot of confusion and shame twisting in your stomach.

You hated this. You hated the way your heart had raced when you saw his name light up your screen. You hated the way you couldn't even deny it properly, because somewhere, deep down, you had thought about him. Exactly the way Jake always teased but enough that the accusation had knocked the breath out of you and you hated, just hated how badly you wanted another message from him.

You pressed your palm against your chest like you could force your heart to slow down, it didn't help. Nothing helped, you genuinely felt sick.

You weren't the kind of girl this happened to. You didn't even know how to flirt, let alone handle whatever the hell this was. You were good, you were quiet, you kept your head down, you knew your place.

Still, you were sitting here, trembling like some desperate little thing just because Sunghoon, with his pretty face and cold eyes, decided to say a few reckless words to you. You didn't know what he wanted, didn't know if he was serious, if he was playing some fucked-up joke, if he even cared what his words would do to you.

Maybe he was bored, maybe he didn't even think twice about it.

Maybe you were just a stupid, convenient distraction for him. The thought made your throat close up, made the sting behind your eyes sharpen. You climbed up into your bed turning your head into the pillow, biting down on your lip hard, willing yourself not to cry over something so stupid, over a boy who probably didn't even remember texting you.

You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to breathe.

You didn't ask for this. You didn't want this.

You just wanted to go back, before the art show, before the party, before the texts, before your heart learned how it felt to be pulled in two different directions at once.

You just wanted to be invisible again.

You knew should've gone the long way around the finance building, you should've kept your head down, kept walking, kept pretending like the weight of that unanswered text didn't cling to you like a second skin.

Instead you stood there, muttering under your breath about your asshole finance professor, flicking through your notes like you could understand what was in it despite being the one who wrote them all down, your hands curled tight around the notebook, trying to fight the rising frustration buzzing under your skin. The sky was cloudy, the wind sharp against your legs where your skirt ended.

You didn't even notice him at first, not until you glanced up and there he was. Across the street, leaning against the stone wall like he was born there, staring at you.

Blank face, hands in his pockets. Eyes so sharp they cut through the heavy air between you.

You froze, every instinct in your body screamed to run but it was already too late. Sunghoon pushed off the wall, crossed the street without looking, closed the space between you in a few long strides like he had every right to.

You couldn't breathe, couldn't move and hated how your pulse quickened anyway.

He stopped too close. Close enough that you could smell the clean laundry scent of his hoodie. Close enough that you had to tilt your chin up to meet his eyes.

He didn't say anything at first. Just stared down at you like he was trying to figure out what you were made of.

And then, flat voice, barely louder than the wind:

"Why'd you ignore my last text?"

You blinked at him, like he was insane. Like you were insane for being the only one who thought this wasn't normal. You shifted your weight, glanced away, noticing how his body blocked your only exit, of course it did.

You hated how small you felt and you really hated the way his words hung between you, sticky and hot, like you owed him something.

You hated him.

"I didn't know you cared," you said finally, your voice sharper than you meant it to be. You crossed your arms, armor thin and cracking. "Since when do you even talk to me?"

He cocked his head to side, his eyes never leaving your face like he genuinely couldn't understand why you seemed mad. "Oh" He said lowly, "I thought you wanted my attention."

The breath you were holding punched out of your chest, making you take a step back but he followed, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world to watch you unravel.

You didn't know what you hated more—how smug he looked or how badly you wanted to grab him by the front of that stupid hoodie and shake him until he made sense.

"I don't," you said, even though it sounded like a lie.

He tilted his head in the other direction, watching you, like you were something pathetic he'd found crumpled on the sidewalk, like you weren't even real.

You swallowed hard, the bitterness burning your throat.

He said nothing, just stood there, letting the silence stretch so taut between you it could slice you open. before you could snap, before you could say something you'd regret, he reached past you, flicked the ends of your sleeves with two fingers like he couldn't help himself.

And maybe you would've stood there forever, frozen in place, if Jake hadn't come strolling around the corner at the absolute worst moment, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, a smug smirk pulling at his mouth like he knew exactly what he was walking in on. He slings an arm around Sunghoon's shoulder like he's crashing a party—his usual stupid grin painted across his face, and an energy so casual it only makes things feel worse.

"Aw, am I interrupting?" he coos, eyes flicking between the two of you. "You look like you're about to cry, baby girl".

Your cheeks flame instantly. "Shut up, Jake."

He just laughs—God, you hate him—and leans in a little too close, voice low but far from discreet.

"Would she let me watch you fuck her, Hoon?" he said, all fake innocence, all ugly laughter, eyes trained on you but directing the question to Sunghoon as if you weren't there and you felt your entire body seize up, blood rushing to your face, stomach flipping painfully like you were about to be sick.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but Jake was already bumping Sunghoon's shoulder, brushing past like this was normal, like this was just what they did.

You didn't even notice the way Sunghoon's mouth twitched, the way something dark and unspoken passed between them, because your brain refused to process it, refused to even consider it.

All you could think about was getting away, getting anywhere that wasn't here, before you embarrassed yourself even more.

You didn't see the way Sunghoon's eyes stayed on you long after you turned and fled.

You didn't know yet what they were really like.

* You should've stayed home, when the smell of opened beer cans hits your nose you realize you should've stayed home, stayed small, stayed out of the fucking way like you'd been doing for the last month, shrinking yourself into something harmless, something invisible, something that Jake and Sunghoon couldn't touch even if they wanted to.

But you didn't, against your better judgement let Yunjin drag you out, wide-eyed and whining about how you were turning boring, how Heeseung promised it would be chill and Jake and Sunghoon would be on their best behavior, how they swore they wouldn't even look at you and you believed it, like an idiot.

Now you're standing here in the middle of some shitty house party, abandoned, holding a lukewarm plastic cup like it's a fucking shield, feeling stupid, feeling trapped. The music is too loud, the floor is sticky under your shoes, someone's laughing way too hard behind you and it feels like the sound is aimed directly at your back.

You look around like maybe you'll see Yunjin and Heeseung, maybe you'll see a way out but they're already gone, already swallowed up by the night, already tearing at each other in some dark corner and you're left with nothing but your own pathetic loneliness.

You hate this, you hate how obvious you must look, you hate how you're gripping your cup so hard it's starting to crumple in your hand and you hate that you thought, even for a second, that you'd be safe here. You really try to suppress it but a part of you starts to build resentment towards your cousin.

You're just about to turn and leave, cut your losses and slip out the door like a coward, when you feel it. That horrible prickle at the back of your neck, the sensation of being watched, heavy and suffocating and familiar in a way that makes your stomach twist.

You already know who it might before you even turn around, only two options come to your mind and you can't even decide which one is worse but of course it's him.It's always him.

Sunghoon stands across the room, half in shadow, arms folded across his chest, head tilted like he's studying you again, not smiling, not frowning, just watching.

You freeze, panic blooming low in your stomach but look away quickly, pretending you didn't see him, pretending you don't care. You take a shaky sip from your cup, trying to check your phone like you have somewhere better to be.

You lie to yourself with every breath you take but it doesn't matter because he's already moving toward you.

Your heartbeat stutters painfully in your chest as he crosses the room, cutting through the crowd like he doesn't even see anyone else, like you're the only thing that matters.

You turn your body slightly, angling away from him, hoping he'll take the hint.

He doesn't.

He stops just in front of you, so close you can smell the clean, sharp scent of his cologne, can feel the heat radiating off his skin.

"Are you avoiding me?," Sunghoon asks voice indifferent like this is just some passing question he doesn't seem to want the answer to.

You swallow hard, throat dry and say nothing, even if you could speak, you don't know what to say. You don't know why he's even talking to you, why he's pretending you exist after ignoring you so effortlessly for so long.

"You look pretty." You blink. "What?" His voice is low, steady and as usual unemotional.

"Your dress is pretty and you look pretty in it, Y/N" He says so matter of factly and it almost sounds like he's telling you the sky is blue and it makes you scoff, turning your body away like maybe that'll help you breathe again. "Please don't start. I'm not doing this tonight." "Doing what?" he asks.

"You know what, Sunghoon. Why don't you and your guard dog just leave me alone?", you grit and instantly you swear you can see his mouth twitch like he's about to smile

He doesn't deny it, doesn't even argue, he takes one slow step forward. "Guard dog? You don't seem so mouthy when he's in front of you though" he almost taunts, clearly referring to how you lock up whenever Jake is close. The comment hits you so hard, you don't even notice you're against the wall now. His hand barely grazing your waist, his voice brushing your ear.

"Do you wanna kiss me?" Your breath hitches because there's no teasing tone in his voice not like the way Jake would say it just to fluster you and make your cheeks flush. He's genuinely asking if you want to kiss him. 

Sunghoon says it like he's asking a favor, like he's letting you decide.

"I—no. I mean—" you stammer, heart climbing into your throat. "I don't know what you're doing, but—"His lips brush your jaw and you immediately go quiet, your mind shifting between how this is the closest you've ever been to him and how this is also the longest conversation you've ever had.

You gasp—his hand is suddenly pressing flat against your stomach, holding you in place. "Sunghoon—"

"You don't sound like you want me to stop." You shake your head, eyes wide. "This isn't fair." "I didn't say it was."

His mouth trails lower, his breath is warm and while you're melting he's still expressionless, calm, like nothing about this affects him and maybe that's what finally breaks you.

So when he whispers, "Let me take you home," you're nodding because your body listens faster than your brain can protest.

Sunghoon unlocks his car without looking at you and gets in without waiting. You just followed him, numbly, helplessly, into his car, stomach churning and heart hammering so hard you thought you might be sick.

He drove like he kissed—silent, steady, like none of this meant anything. You sat there in the passenger seat, hands clenched in your lap, trying not to look at him, trying not to think about the way your body was still burning where he touched you, trying not to wonder why he hadn't even smiled once.

He drives in silence, not looking at you once, not when he's merging onto the freeway, not when you're stopped at a red light, not when you pull up to the underground parking lot of his building. He just turns off the engine and gets out.

You sit there for a second, paralyzed, watching his frame walk towards the elevator. Then you force yourself to move, force yourself to follow him inside, force yourself to pretend that this is fine, that you can survive this, that you won't fall apart the second he touches you again.

You don't even know why you do it, you don't know what you're hoping for or what you're trying to prove.

Maybe you just want to feel wanted or to hurt and maybe right now to you, it's the same thing.

The door shuts behind you with a soft click. You half-expect him to push you against it, mouth hungry, hands impatient but instead, Sunghoon walks ahead, tossing his keys on the counter like this is routine, like you've done this a hundred times before.

You stand uselessly at the door, all stiff, unsure, heart climbing your ribs like it's trying to get away from you. He finally turns around, his eyes meet yours for the first time since the party but you can't help but look away, attempting to look around to observe the space

Sunghoon's apartment is exactly how you'd pictured it, it's big, cold and kind of empty. Everything is clean, clean to the point of sterile, all dark hardwood floors and concrete walls, black leather couch, black coffee table, flat screen bolted onto the wall.

No clutter, safe for the pile of PS5 games next to the console and a camera that's charging in the corner. Even the lights are dim, recessed into the ceiling, casting everything in sharp, ugly shadows.

There are no photos or trophies or notes on the fridge. Just space, silence and a daunting kind of emptiness. He doesn't say anything when you walk in or ask if you're okay, he just tugs you by the wrist down a short hallway into what you assume is his bedroom, like you're an obligation he's trying to get out of the way.

The room matches the rest of the apartment—gray walls, dark bedding, no signs of life. A single queen-sized bed in the center, neatly made with black sheets, a dresser, a nightstand and nothing else.

You hover awkwardly by the door, arms wrapped tight around yourself, not knowing what else to do. You want to ask him what you're doing here, or if this means anything to him at all, you want to ask him if you mean anything.

You don't, you don't say a word. He crosses the room in three long strides and crowds you against the wall again, just like he did at the party, pressing his body into yours, slotting his thigh between your legs.

You gasp, hands scrabbling at his chest. He kisses you, rougher this time, hungrier, but still there's that same frustrating emptiness radiating off him, like he's only half there.

It stings and you know it shouldn't but it does. You kiss him back anyway, desperate and clumsy, letting him push you toward the bed. You fall back against the mattress, bouncing once, heart pounding so loud you're sure he can hear it.

He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it aside, then hooks his hands under your thighs and yanks you down to the edge of the bed, manhandling you like you weigh nothing.

You squeak in surprise, trying to suppress the fluttering in your stomach as presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. The touch sends a shudder through you, he doesn't seem to notice or if he does, he doesn't care, he just pushes your dress up higher, baring your thighs, your panties, the flushed vulnerability of you.

You try to press your legs together instinctively, but he's already settling between them, mouth dragging hot and slow along the sensitive skin. Your head drops back against the bed with a helpless whine. It's overwhelming, the weight of him, the heat of him, the way he's so calm while you're falling apart.

He kisses the crease of your thigh, breathes against the damp cotton of your underwear, licks a slow stripe over the center and you jerk, thighs trembling but he doesn't stop, he doesn't even flinch. It's almost clinical, the way he touches you , it's efficient, methodical but his mouth. God, his mouth.

His mouth might be the only part of him that's honest, it is frantic, almost desperate even. Devouring, like he's starving for you, like he's trying to say everything he's never said aloud, everything he can't bring himself to voice.

You fist his sheets, chest heaving, feeling tears sting at your eyes. It feels too good,  too much, like you're dying but also floating. You barely register it when he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties and tugs them down, baring you completely. You barely register it when he slides a finger through your folds, testing your wetness, humming low in his throat like he's pleased.

You only really come back to yourself when you feel the tip of his finger pressing against your entrance, when your whole body locks up in terror, when you squeeze your eyes shut like you're bracing for impact.

Sunghoon halts. You can feel it, the sudden tension in his body, the way his head lifts, the way he goes still between your legs. You crack your eyes open to find him staring up at you and his brows are drawn together, just slightly. You realize you're shaking and quite clearly crying. "Have you..." he starts, voice rougher than before, almost uncertain before he clears his throat. "Have you done this before?"

You shake your head, violently, squeezing your eyes shut again, humiliated beyond belief. You're so sure this is it, he's going to kick you out, he's going to laugh in your face and tell you he doesn't fuck virgins. So you brace for it and wait for the disgust, the mockery but it doesn't come. Instead, you feel his lips against your knee, soft and featherlight, like an apology he doesn't know how to give.

"Don't cry," he murmurs. Your breath shudders out of you and when your open your eyes, Sunghoon is still kneeling between your legs, still staring at you with that same unreadable expression, but there's something different now, something softer, something almost vulnerable.

He brushes his thumb over your thigh, gentle and you can't even hide your surprise that he doesn't move to get off you or tell you to leave.

He stays, like maybe, just maybe, you're not completely disposable after all. He's there looking at you in a way that has you trembling, gasping for air and blinking tears from your eyes, when he leans in closer, breath ghosting over the slick, swollen heat of you, his mouth brushing your inner thigh as he speaks. "So," he says, low and almost lazy. "What did you do when you touched yourself thinking about me?"

You choke on your own spit and you feel your whole body lock up again, shame burning hotter than your skin. "I— I didn't," you lie, immediately, stupidly. He huffs a laugh against your thigh, the first real sound he's made all night but it's not cruel, not that it's kind either. It's just amused. "Oh?" he murmurs, lips still trailing your inner thighs, "Then why are you shaking like that?"

You squeeze your eyes shut again, trying to disappear but he doesn't let you. He presses a kiss to the very edge of your hipbone, then another, closer and another.

"Tell me," he says, voice slipping lower, rougher. "Tell me what you did." You can't breathe, like the air has been completely stolen from your lungs. You can't lie either, not when he's looking at you like that, like he already knows and he's just waiting for you to admit it.

"I— I just—" you stammer, your voice breaking. "I just rubbed—" you curl in on yourself, mortified, "I rubbed my clit a little, that's all, I swear." You force the words out like a confession, like a sin and Sunghoon? He smiles. For the first time since you've known him, for the first time ever, he smiles at you. It's small, almost imperceptible but it's there and it knocks the air out of your lungs.

Like he's pleased, almost like he's proud of you. "Good girl," he says, and your heart almost explodes. You're still trying to process that, still trying to make sense of the sudden weightlessness in your chest, when he dips his head again, mouth closing over your clit without warning. You cry out, hips bucking up off the bed but he doesn't even flinch, he just pins you down, hands bruising against your thighs, licking you like he's been starving for it, like you're the only thing he's ever wanted and you sob, writhing, overwhelmed.

It's too much but it's not enough, you don't even know anymore.

He doesn't give you a second to breathe, to think, to ask him why he's doing this, what you are to him, why it feels like you're being torn apart and stitched back together all at once.

He just keeps going.

Keeps sucking your clit into his mouth, keeps teasing your entrance with the tip of his finger.

When he finally pulls his mouth off you, you're keening, fists twisting in the sheets, tears spilling freely down your cheeks. He lifts his head to look at you, face flushed, mouth slick, and mutters, almost to himself that you barely hear him over the roaring in your ears. "Need to get you ready."

You sob again when you feel him nudge a finger at your entrance. "Please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for. "Please slow down, I—" He cuts you off by tapping your thigh, light but firm. "Tap my shoulder if you want me to stop," he says, flat and emotionless, like he's just reminding you of the rules he never even told you in the first place.

Then he pushes inside, you gasp, a very raw, broken sound, as your walls clench instinctively around him. He groans low in his throat, but otherwise shows no reaction, like it's nothing, like you're nothing. You clutch at the sheets, tears burning your eyes again, but you don't tap out. You don't stop him, you can't because it's not like you want to anyway.

He works his finger in and out of you slowly, methodically, never looking up, never checking your face. You try to catch your breath, to calm down, to not cry harder but fail.

And Sunghoon doesn't stop, he just keeps going—steady and unflinching, like you're a problem he's determined to solve, like your pain and or pleasure isn't even real to him, like you're something he already owns but somehow, somehow, it still feels like the best thing anyone's ever given you.

He's relentless, barely even gives you a second to breathe, to think, to feel anything but the stretch of him working you open, one finger at first, slow and steady, ignoring every soft sob that falls from your lips.

You feel like you're drowning. The bed is too big, the room too cold, the walls are grey, the sheets are dark, the only light coming from the dim bedside lamp casting long shadows across the plain white walls, like he doesn't feel anything and maybe he doesn't and you're the idiot for expecting him to.

You dig your fingers into the sheets tighter, squeezing your eyes shut, trying not to sob out loud again. Trying not to embarrass yourself even more. Then you feel it, the slow, deliberate curl of his finger inside you.

You hiccup, chest spasming with another silent cry. Sunghoon clicks his tongue, sharp and soft at the same time. "Stop crying," he mutters, not looking up from between your thighs, it's almost bored, almost annoyed but there's something under it too, something you can't name.

You sniffle pitifully, nodding even though he's not looking at you, even though you don't think you could stop even if you tried. Then he shifts again, sliding his mouth back over your clit, and the heat of it makes you jolt. You mewl helplessly, high and broken, when he sucks harshly at the sensitive bud.

"Gonna add another," he mutters against you, voice low and unaffected, like he's just narrating, like you're not trembling beneath him. You barely have time to brace yourself before he's pushing a second finger inside. The burn is sharp, almost unbearable, and your whole body arches off the bed involuntarily, you're  gasping, panting, trying to wriggle away from the overwhelming sensation, but he just presses your hips down, holding you in place like it's nothing.

You whimper, the sound muffled against your fist when you shove it into your mouth to stop yourself from making more noise. You don't even realize you're babbling until you hear your own voice cracking through the air, "Sunghoon, Sunghoon—"

You're not even thinking, you're just saying his name like a prayer, like it might save you. For a second, he stills, before softly, curiously, he murmurs, "Yeah?" and it's he thinks you're trying to talk to him, like he doesn't even realize it's just moaning.

Your whole face burns hotter, your body trembling harder, you shake your head frantically, tears dripping onto the pillow.

You don't know what you're saying anymore, you don't know anything at all, except for him, his mouth, his fingers, the way he's filling you, the way he's making your body light up in ways you've never known it could.

He curls his fingers again, deeper this time, deliberate and suddenly you see stars behind your eyelids. You cry out, bucking your hips up against his mouth, sobbing out another desperate, broken whimper of his name.

And he gets it then, you can feel it in the way his mouth curves into a smirk against you, the way he presses in deeper, harder, finding that spot again, hitting it relentlessly until you're gasping, twitching, clenching around his fingers so hard it hurts. Your whole body's on fire and you're so close you can't even think. He's still so calm, so detached, like he's just...studying you, watching you fall apart with that same unreadable look on his face.

You don't even realize you're crying again until he lifts his head, looking up at you with a frown. "You're so sensitive," he says, almost wonderingly. "You gonna cum already?" You shake your head, sobbing harder, even as your hips grind desperately against his fingers. He huffs a soft laugh under his breath, not mocking, just...satisfied.

And then when he's lowering his mouth again, sucking harshly on your clit while his fingers fuck into you deep and slow. You don't stand a chance, you come undone with a wrecked cry, shattering under him, your whole body locking up and then convulsing, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

He doesn't stop or even slow down. He works you through it, fingers deep, mouth unrelenting, until you're gasping, shaking, tears flooding down your cheeks from the overstimulation and only then—only then, does he finally pull back.

You feel so empty when he does, you almost sob again, he sits back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand — looking completely unaffected while you lay there ruined, shaking, broken on his bed.

You cover your face with your hands, humiliated, you don't even know what you're crying about anymore. The pain? The pleasure? The way it all feels so impossibly hollow when he's looking at you like that?like he's still a thousand miles away even when he's inside you.

"Don't cry," he says again, voice almost too soft to be real but he doesn't reach for you, doesn't comfort you or say anything else.

He just sits there, watching and waiting like he doesn't know what to do with you now that he's broken you but then you feel him lift off the bed and you hear the faint sound of the door opening and closing.

You're alone now and you don't know how long you lay there, body trembling, cheeks sticky with tears drying into itchy trails down your skin. Minutes pass, maybe even hours cause it feels endless.

The room is too quiet without him, so quiet you can hear your own heartbeat, your own ragged breathing. The ache between your legs hasn't faded. It throbs there, humiliating and hot, like a bruise you can't stop pressing on. You stare up at the ceiling. You wonder if this is it, if he's just going to leave you like this. Used up, humiliated and forgotten.

You try to move, but everything feels too heavy, you feel stupid for thinking it might've meant something different when he touched you and you feel even stupider for still wanting more.

The door opens again, making whole body tenses on instinct. You don't sit up because in reality you can't. You listen to the soft footfalls across the room then the mattress dips beside you.

You flinch, you can't help it then something presses into your arm, you blink and look. It's a water bottle, unopened and cold. You glance up at him, confused, uncertain but he's not looking at you. He's staring blankly at the floor, legs spread casually, one arm draped over his bent knee.

You fumble to unscrew the cap, hands still shaking, and take a small sip, the water almost choking you. The silence is suffocating. You don't know why you're surprised when he breaks it first. When he turns his head just slightly, eyes flickering to you, dark, unreadable and says, almost absent-mindedly,

"You want more?"

Your breath catches and you stare at him, wide-eyed, like you must've heard wrong but then you see his mouth twitch. The tiniest hint of a curios smile, genuine like he really doesn't know the answer.

Your heart stutters painfully as you set the water down on the nightstand with clumsy fingers.

Your throat is dry even though you just drank and you nod.

Barely, a small, scared movement.

He watches you steadily for a moment then he tips his head slightly, like he's trying to get a better look at you. "You sure?" his voice is lower now, rougher but still that same detached calm but something else too, threading underneath.

Something you want so desperately to be real and it makes you nod again, a little firmer this time because don't trust your voice to come out right.

He stares at you a second before moving slowly.

He stands up, shrugging his t-shirt off in one smooth motion, leaving him in shirtless with just his jeans. Your heart hammers against your ribs, panic and anticipation fighting for space in your chest. You watch as he unzips his jeans, pushing them down his hips with a casualness that almost makes you dizzy.

He's already half-hard, think and heavy between his thighs. You realize, distantly, that you're gawking so you quickly jerk your gaze away, cheeks burning.

You hear a soft, breathless chuckle from above you not mean and then he's crawling back onto the bed, over you, caging you in with his body.

You feel so small beneath him like prey. He's looking at you differently now, not in the normal cold and empty way, he's looking at you with hunger now and it makes you shiver.

"You sure?" he asks again, voice barely a murmur this time, lips brushing your temple.

You nod frantically, squeezing your eyes shut. "Say it," he says, tone still maddeningly calm. "Need to hear you." Your voice is a whisper, a plea, a confession. "I want you," you breathe. "I want more."

Something in him finally cracks. You feel it in the way his whole body shifts closer, the way his mouth finds yours in a kiss that's nothing like before. His tongue slides against yours, filthy and slow, and you whimper into his mouth without meaning to.

He kisses you like he wants to consume you as if he needs to and when he pulls back, just barely, his forehead resting against yours, he's panting. For the first time tonight, he doesn't look unreadable, wrecked and hungry. He shifts, reaching between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance — the swollen, aching place between your legs still slick from his mouth.

He rubs the head of his cock against you, slow, deliberate, pulling another pathetic whine from your throat. You feel him smile against your cheek. "You're so wet," he murmurs, nudging your thighs wider with his knees, not even asking, just taking. You feel the blunt head of him pressing against you and it's too much, it's not enough, you can't tell which.

He leans down, mouth brushing your ear. "Tap my shoulder if you want me to stop," he reminds you, voice rougher now. You nod frantically again because you don't want him to stop, you just want everything he's willing to give. Even if it's nothing real or even if it feels you emptier than before.

He doesn't say anything when he pushes in. Doesn't shush you, doesn't kiss you, doesn't tell you it's okay. He kind of just watches, like he's waiting for something, like you're some sort of test he's trying to pass. The stretch is unbearable, sharp and hot and you're scrabbling at his shoulders before he's even halfway in, breathing fast and panicked against his neck.

You hear yourself whispering, wait wait wait wait but he's already slowing, already stopping, his hands bracketing your hips steady and firm like he expected this because he knew you'd break apart underneath him. You feel him breathe against your temple, slow and even. He's still hard, still not fully inside you but he's giving you the space to catch up even if he looks utterly unbothered doing it. "Relax," he says after a beat. "You're making it worse."

You nod frantically against him, squeezing your eyes shut, willing your body to loosen, willing the burn to subside. It takes a minute, maybe longer and he waits like he has all the time in the world.

Not stroking your hair or murmuring sweet things like you imagined the person you'd lose your virginity to would do, none of that. He's just existing above you, warm and solid, until finally you whimper, nodding again, giving him permission to move.

He pushes in slower this time but you still cry out, it's too much, too much, you feel so impossibly full but he hushes you, a soft sound, almost absent-minded, like he's trying to focus. You claw at his shoulders, needing something to hold onto, needing something real while your body stretches and aches around him. You hear him swear under his breath when he bottoms out, low and strained, like he's barely keeping himself together.

He stays there, buried deep, not moving. You don't realize you're crying again until he shifts just enough to catch your face in his hand, tilting your chin up to look at him. "Still with me?" he mutters, thumb brushing your wet cheek almost carelessly. You nod, trembling, wrecked and he gives a low breath of a laugh, amused but not mean. "Good girl," he says, more to himself than to you and it makes your heart seize painfully in your chest.

Good girl.

You cling to it like a lifeline.

He moves then.

Slow at first, dragging out almost all the way before pressing back in and it's overwhelming, the feeling of him inside you, the stretch and slide and pressure so much you can't breathe properly. You can hear the slick, embarrassing sounds your bodies make, can hear the broken little noises spilling from your own mouth. You bury your face in his shoulder, too humiliated to meet his eyes. He fucks you in slow, grinding thrusts, deep and steady, like he's trying to memorize the way you feel wrapped around him.

You're babbling something, you don't even know what, little pleading sounds that don't form real words. You hear him murmur something against your hair, so soft you almost miss it. "Fuck," he mutters. "You're so fucking tight." You whimper at the words, at the ragged sound of his voice, at the way he sounds affected for once, not calm, not detached, but wrecked. He groans low in his throat when you clench around him by accident, and his hips stutter for the first time.

"You're not doing it on purpose, right?" he mutters, almost teasing. "You're just that desperate, huh?" You shake your head frantically, sobbing against his skin, too overwhelmed to even think straight. You hear him laugh again, a breathless, disbelieving sound and then his mouth finds your shoulder, your neck, teeth scraping lightly. Your nails dig into his back, desperate, and he lets you, he lets you cling to him, lets you leave marks on his skin.

At some point, you don't know when, he finds a rhythm that brushes something devastatingly good inside you. Your whole body jerks when he hits it and you cry out, high and sharp.

He stiffens, then slowly, he pulls back and thrusts into that same spot again. Harder and deeper. You keen, the sound raw and broken, he does it again and again. Until you're sobbing into his neck, clinging to him like he's the only thing keeping you alive, you can't seem to stop moaning his name. You don't even realize you're doing it until you feel him smirk against your throat.

"Yeah?" he says, almost amused. "Is that what you like?" You nod frantically, tears leaking out the corners of your eyes. "You're so fucking sensitive," he murmurs, almost admiring. "Didn't even know girls like you existed." You want to ask what he means. You want to ask what kind of girl he thinks you are but you can't speak, you can barely think only feel. It feels too much, too good, too raw. He keeps fucking into that spot, relentless, steady, unforgiving, until you're arching beneath him, your whole body trembling, your voice breaking on desperate cries. You cum with a strangled sob, clenching around him so tight he curses, low and vicious. You shake and shudder, tears spilling hot and fast, still clutching at him like you'll fall apart without him but doesn't stop moving or give you a second to catch your breath. He keeps fucking you through it, slow but deep, grinding against that sensitive place inside you until you're gasping and whimpering and scratching at his back without meaning to.

You can't take it, your whole body feels too raw, too overwhelmed and overstimulated. You tap frantically at his shoulder, voice breaking. "S-Stop— please—"

He stills immediately, breathing hard above you. You feel him pull out slowly, carefully, and you collapse back against the sheets, boneless and trembling. There's a pause and you barely register him looking down at you, at the spots of blood smeared between your thighs, at the stains on his sheets.

He sighs.

"You bled on my bed," he mutters, like it's mildly annoying and it makes you flinch, humiliated, curling in on yourself but then before you can sink too deep into the shame, you feel him brush a hand over your knee. Gentle, almost absent-minded that it makes you blink up at him through tear-blurred eyes. He looks exhausted, disheveled and a little dazed. His thumb traces circles into your skin, not looking at you.

"You did good," he says quietly, almost endearingly. Then, louder, more to himself than to you — he mutters, "First time... fuck."

He leans back on his palms where he's sat at the edge of the bed, dragging a hand through his hair, looking genuinely thrown off for the first time. You don't know what to say, you didn't even know if you should say anything at all so you just lie there, aching and ruined, staring up at the ceiling like maybe you'll wake up and this will all have been some fever dream.

But you don't wake up, because this is real and he's real. Your whole body feels heavy, used up, raw and your thighs are sticky, the sheets beneath you damp and crumpled. The room smells like sweat and sex and something softer, something sweeter—him, you think. Sunghoon moves around the room in that quiet, efficient way he does everything, tugging the blanket up over you, finding the bottle of water from earlier and cracking it open but he doesn't look at you while he works. You think, distantly, stupidly, that he looks more real like this, less like the untouchable version of him you built in your head and more like a boy with messy hair, bitten lips and fingerprints pressed into his hips.

He comes back to the bed, crouches at the edge, and presses the bottle into your hand. You almost drop it cause your fingers are too shaky but he catches it, wrapping his hand around yours until you can hold it steady. "Drink," he says simply. You sip, obedient, trying to focus on how it tastes metallic now that it's lukewarm. You don't realize he's still touching you until you feel his thumb stroking over the inside of your wrist, absent and repetitive, in a way that seems like he doesn't even know he's doing it. He watches you drink, then takes the bottle from you when you're done and tosses it onto the floor with a soft thunk.

There's a weird, heavy silence between you, not uncomfortable, just thick with something you don't have the words for. He shifts back onto the bed, sitting with one knee drawn up, shirt sticking to his chest. He clears his throat once, like he's thinking through what he wants to say. "You want me to drive you home?" he asks eventually, making you blink up at him, throat dry even thought you just had water. You're not sure what you expected him to say, something colder, maybe. Something meaner but his voice is weirdly careful, almost... tentative.

He scratches the back of his neck. "I live with Jake," he mutters, like it's some necessary disclaimer. You realize, a beat too late that it's not about him hiding you. Something in you convinces yourself that this is his own weird way protecting you. From Jake and from the teasing you know would come if Jake figured this out.

It's almost enough to make you cry again but you bite it back, swallowing around the lump in your throat. You're about to shake your head to tell him no, it's fine, you'll call a cab, you don't want to be his problem anymore but then you realize he's now holding you. Somewhere in the middle of everything, somewhere between the water and the words, he'd pulled you against him, tucked you into his side and you didn't even notice.

His arm is around your shoulders, warm and steady. His hand is rubbing slow circles into your bare thigh, not sexual just steady and it knocks the air right out of your lungs. You blink up at him, wide-eyed and wrecked, he catches your stare and raises an eyebrow, that unreadable almost-smirk twitching at his mouth.

"What?" he says, voice rough and low. You shake your head, bury your face into his chest instead, trying to hide the way you're falling apart all over again. Trying to hide how much this, the tiny stupid casual tenderness of it is undoing you faster than anything else tonight.

He keeps holding you, stroking your back now and it's all the gentleness you wanted in the start, It feels so good, you don't realize you've fallen asleep, maybe it was somewhere between his hand tracing slow lines up and down your thigh or when you curled deeper into his chest, hiding from the world outside the four walls of his room.

You don't know but you wake up to the feeling of him shifting, gathering you against him, moving you like you're something breakable. You blink up at him, dazed and disoriented. "C'mon," he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheekbone. "I'm driving you back." The way he says it so definitively has you thinking there was never a version of this story where he didn't

You don't remember getting dressed cause he helps you, pulling your dress down over your hips, smoothing it out like it matters if it's wrinkled now. He doesn't touch you wrong or linger where he shouldn't, he just gets you ready, like you're something he needs to take care of.

The drive back is nothing like the drive to his apartment.

The first time, it had been silent, heavy even, your heart slamming itself against your ribs with every mile closer you got to something inevitable. Now it's quieter, somehow, still tense and thick but not scary. Not when he keeps glancing over at you, real glances this time, not just bored flickers, like he's making sure you're still breathing.

"You okay?" he asks when the stoplight stretches a little too long. His hand settles on your thigh without even thinking, warm, steady, thumb stroking small arcs into your skin. You nod without thinking, too cause you don't trust your voice and his jaw tightens like he doesn't believe you but he doesn't press, he just squeezes your thigh gently, keeping it there, like he needs the contact to stay grounded.

The city blurs by outside the window, neon smears, headlights, the occasional drunken laughter of a group stumbling home from the bars. You stare out at it and try not to think about the fact that his hand hasn't moved and that he's still touching you like it's second nature now.

When he pulls up in front of your building, he cuts the engine without a word and climbs out. Your brain can barely register that you didn't give him an address but yet here you are. You fumble with the door handle and your seatbelt, still half-dazed, but he's already there, opening it for you, offering a hand you don't take because you're too stunned to move. You look up at him and can't help but sense there's something different about him now, something softer around the edges, something raw. "Text me," he says, low and serious, an order. "And..." he hesitates, jaw clenching, like the next part hurts to say. "Don't cry again."

It's almost desperate, almost as if it does something to him, seeing you fall apart. You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out. You're standing there on the sidewalk, small and ruined and still half in love with a boy who doesn't even know how much damage he's doing. He watches you for a second longer, waiting, like he's giving you the chance to say no, tell him to fuck off and end whatever this is before it starts but you don't.

You just nod, biting your lip so hard it stings. Without another word, he's backing away, climbing into his car, pulling off into the night with the windows down and the music low and his hand still flexing like he misses the feel of you under his palm.

You don't text him or even think about texting him, you genuinely try not to. You bury your phone under your pillow, your backpack, sometimes even your bed, as if that'll keep the temptation away. As if you're not sitting there, curled up in bed with the covers pulled up over your head, thinking about his hand on your thigh during the drive back. Thinking about the way he opened the door for you like it mattered. Thinking about the way he said don't cry again like it physically hurt him to see it.

It doesn't help, none of it does so much so that you spiral, slow, inevitable all into something heavy and gray and miserable. Yunjin notices immediately, of course she does, she keeps knocking on your door, calling you, threatening to break in if you don't answer her. She even gets Heeseung to come at one point, she probably told him something frantic enough that you have to lie through your teeth and tell them you're just sick or tired or busy.

Anything but the truth.

You don't leave your dorm except for class and even then, you barely make it out the door, trudging across campus like a ghost.

Until, three days later, you drag yourself out to a small cafe off campus, needing a change of scenery, somewhere quiet to pretend you're still a person. You've been there for maybe an hour, laptop open, notes spread ever, highlighter caps scattered across the table then you feel it.

A presence, a shadow falling over your table that makes you look up and there Sunghoon stands, different hoodie, same unreadable face but there's something in his eyes, something sharper, something frustrated, something almost desperate when he says "I told you to text me." You blink at him, heart slamming into your ribs so hard you swear you hear it. He stares down at you for a second longer, shoving his hands into his pockets like he's physically stopping himself from reaching for you.

Then, deadpan, he says "Don't you wanna have sex again?" You just stare at him, absolutely dumbfounded, mouth opening and closing but no words forming. The cafe noise blurs around you and you shove your chair back roughly and stand up, your heart hammering, your hands shaking, your voice raw when you snap at him "I'm tired of being confused."

He blinks, actually looks caught off-guard but you're not finished. "What do you even want, Sunghoon?" You're almost yelling not caring if people are looking cause now you just need to know. You need to stop being this wreck, this ruin, this stupid girl still hoping for softness from someone who only ever gives you pain.

Sunghoon doesn't answer right away, he just looks at you, unmoving like he's thinking or deciding something. And then, so soft you almost don't hear it, he says "You." Your breath catches as your whole body goes rigid. For half a second, half a heartbeat, you believe him, you believe he means it Until he tilts his head slightly, voice dropping, eyes darkening as he adds "In my bed again." It just feels like you've been punched hard and straight through the chest. Your hands tremble at your sides as you stare at him—at this boy you thought you hated, thought you craved, thought you needed and you realize; You don't know him at all.

You're about to walk away, already trying to gather up your things into your bag, you're thinking about how you'll shove past him, out the door, back into the rain-slicked street but then Sunghoon leans in. So close you can feel the heat of him bleeding into you. His voice lowers like something rougher and raspier, like it's been clawing its way out of his throat. "I meant it," he says. "You."

You halt, you hate him, you hate him so much but he's still leaning in, dipping his head down slightly like he's confessing something dark, something private, like he's handing you a piece of him, bloody and raw. "You don't get it," he says, almost whispering now. "Nobody's ever been like that. In my bed." Your heart cracks, the worst part is you believe him, you believe he's telling the truth but there's still that sharp, selfish edge to it, that gleam in his eyes like he's not just confessing, he's coaxing, begging even.

"Let me have you like that again," he says, and his mouth is so close to yours it almost feels like a kiss. It's almost sweet, if not for the way he says it—half desperate, half manipulative, like he thinks those are the words you want to hear and he knows you'll fall for it. Maybe you already have because your body is betraying you, shivering, leaning closer, your fingers curling into fists at your sides so you don't grab him by the hoodie and kiss him first.

You want to hurt him back but all you can do is whisper, broken "You don't even know what you're asking for." Sunghoon just looks at you, silent and still, a flash of something almost like regret in his eyes but it's gone too fast for you to catch it properly. His fingers twitch in his hoodie pocket, like he wants to reach for you and doesn't know if he's allowed.

He hesitates, for the first time, he hesitates, before he speaks again "Let me learn" and it guts you because you're stupid enough to want to believe it. You're stupid enough to want him even when you know better. If you weren't so stupid you would have noted the amount of chances you had to turn away and tell him no but you don't, not when he's helping you pack up your things or guiding you to his car, not when he's pulling you in for desperate kisses at stoplights, you don't say no because the part of you that wants him is bigger and anything else and because you're stupid.

The memory of how you got here is a haze, you remember him frantically pulling off your sweater as soon as you walked in through the door, unlike the first time you were in his apartment and he waited to take you into his room, it's all so frantic, the heat of his mouth on your neck, the way his hands tug at your skirt frustratingly before he's grunting against your mouth like he's telling you to do it and you do, You remember him picking you up off the ground making your legs instinctively wrap around him as he holds you up effortlessly, taking you to his room again and placing you on the bed more gently.

You can't help but notice how his room looks a bit different in the daylight but your thoughts about it are thrown out the window when you feel him pull your panties down your legs and stare at where you're wet for him. His mouth is just devouring as devouring as it was the first time, it's so skillful, it has you arching instantly, grabbing at his hair and bucking your hips up to meet his mouth.

You don't hear the door open or even sense someone is in the room until his voice cuts through the dim air like a blade.

"Well, well. Look at you."

Your eyes fly open to meet Jake's, he's leaning against the wall, jaw clenched, arms crossed, eyes dark but he's not mad. No, he's smiling, slowly and cruelly like watching the punchline of a joke he told hours ago finally land. "Guess I was right about you."

Your hand flies to Sunghoon's shoulder, tapping at him panicked, breathless. "Hoon—Sunghoon—stop. He's here—" But Sunghoon doesn't even glance back. He just coos, soft and low. "It's okay," he murmurs, almost fondly. "Ignore him." Ignore him? Ignore Jake standing there, wolf-eyed and grinning, hands shoved into his pockets like he's about to stay a while.

You try to pull away again, one last desperate wriggle of your hips but Sunghoon is relentless. His mouth finds your clit again, his hands pressing your thighs wide, pinning you open like a butterfly.

Pinned, shivering, exposed and Jake fucking laughs under his breath. "Desperate little thing," he says, almost sweetly. "You like this, huh? Like having an audience?" Your throat closes up and your heart punches against your ribs.

You squeeze your eyes shut humiliated, so humiliated but Sunghoon's tongue doesn't falter, his fingers don't slip. He's focused like you're the only thing in the world, like Jake's presence is meaningless. Maybe it is. Maybe all that matters is the way Sunghoon is pulling these pathetic little sounds out of you, wet, broken and soft.

Jake comes closer because you feel his heat at your side, hear the way he crouches down, mouth grazing your ear when he speaks  "Go on, pretty baby," he whispers. "Cum for him." You sob, you can't help it and Sunghoon's tongue just flattens harder, swirling, ruthless.

Jake hums approvingly.

"Yeah, that's it. Cum like a good girl for your beloved Sunghoon." Your whole body snaps tight and you fall apart like he ordered it, helpless, degraded and soaked. You cum hard, gasping, clutching at the sheets, your hips jerking up into Sunghoon's mouth like you're chasing it, like you need it to survive. It's pathetic; it's degrading and it's the best thing you've ever felt. Sunghoon doesn't even slow down through it, just keeps licking, gentle now, coaxing the last little spasms out of you until you're shaking, whimpering, completely broken open.

Jake just watches, smirking.

You don't even realize you're shaking until you try to sit up, your hands are trembling and the sheets are damp under your thighs, your whole body still pulsing from the devastating orgasm Sunghoon wrung out of you like it was nothing.

You don't even have time to gather yourself or to cry or scream or run, before Sunghoon is shifting, sitting back on his heels between your spread thighs. "Let Jake take your top off," he says, all flat and dispassionate like he's asking you to hand him your notebook in class.

Your mouth falls open and you blink at him—once, twice—because surely you didn't hear that right."No," you croak, voice ragged with confusion, shame and heartbreak. "What the fuck—" You glance between them, voice rising. "You guys are fucking weird." You yank at the sheets, trying to cover yourself but Sunghoon doesn't even flinch. Jake that's still smirking devilishly just shifts closer to the bed, looming over you and Sunghoon? God, Sunghoon just tilts his head, looking at you. That same unreadable stare, dark and heavy and burning but this time there's something different there. Something that reaches out and claws at you even as you recoil. Not affection or cruelty, just want, so intense it's borderline unbearable.

Jake's gaze is different, lighter, crueler, like he's seeing you as something to be played with but Sunghoon—Sunghoon is hungry. You feel it crackling in the air, feel it vibrating against your skin and God, you hate yourself, because your body is betraying you again — your head nodding before you even realize it, weak, desperate, aching.

Jake grins, sharp and wolfish—the second you do. "Good girl," he breathes, wasting no time, before you can regret it, his fingers slip under the hem of your flimsy top, tugging it over your head, baring you completely, safe for your bra that he immediately discards and his mouth is on you immediately, hot and slick and brutal.

Sucking at the soft flesh of your tit, biting down just enough to make you whimper. You gasp, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders, not pushing him away or pulling him close either, just clutching him, trying to hold yourself together. It's too much, their hands, their mouths, the heavy stare of Sunghoon's black eyes like he's drinking you in.

You can't catch your breath and Sunghoon's patience wears thinner by the second. You can feel it in the way his hands slide up your thighs, the way he spreads you open again without a word, the way his cock twitches against his thigh as he watches Jake mark you up.

He's done waiting, he wraps his hand around the base of his cock, not even bothering to slow down, not even pretending to give you time to adjust. "Move," he mutters to Jake, a single word, sharp-edged. Jake laughs against your skin but he obeys, pulling back just enough for Sunghoon to settle between your thighs. You barely have time to whimper before Sunghoon is there, pressing the blunt head of his cock against your entrance, not cruel but not careful either, sliding in with slow, brutal finality.

You gasp high and broken—your nails digging into the sheets. Jake's mouth finds your ear, murmuring filth. Sunghoon just fucks into you like you're a thing he's owed, stretching you open on his cock and you clench on him, your hips jerking with every punishing thrust, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes and soaking the sheets beneath you. Your head is spinning, your chest heaving, every nerve ending raw and oversensitized.

You think if he fucks you any harder, you'll just shatter apart and you almost want him to. You almost want him to break you completely so you'll stop feeling this ache, this desperate, hollow yearning for something he refuses to give you. Your eyes screw shut, your fingers scrabbling uselessly at the sheets and it's all just white noise.

Until one particularly brutal thrust has your whole body jerking and your eyes fly open on instinct and that's when you see it. Through the blurry haze of your tears, your vision sharpening in short, frantic bursts. You see Sunghoon not just fucking you but kissing Jake, in fact it's not just kissing, it's devouring. Sunghoon's mouth is slanted hard over Jake's, his tongue forcing its way between his lips, messy and aggressive. Jake is grinning into the kiss like he's won, one hand tangled in the back of Sunghoon's hair, the other lazily tweaking his own nipple through his t-shirt, like he's savoring the way Sunghoon is practically fucking his mouth too.

You whimper without meaning to, your body clenching helplessly around Sunghoon's cock at the sight because it's so much, too much even. Sunghoon driving into you, Sunghoon moaning into Jake's mouth, Jake playing with himself, Jake smirking like he knows exactly what this is doing to you and somewhere deep down, even through the pleasure flooding your body, even through the slick obscene noises filling the room, you know now what you hadn't let yourself believe before. That this thing between Jake and Sunghoon—whatever it is—It's more.

They're not just friends, they can't be, not with the way Sunghoon is gripping Jake's jaw, the way he's pulling those filthy little noises out of him like he knows exactly how. Your stomach twists, sick and overwhelmingly turned on. You're so close again, you can feel it, your whole body trembling on the precipice of another orgasm, Sunghoon's thrusts getting sloppier, deeper, his low grunts spilling out of him like he can't even hold them back anymore.

"Jake," Sunghoon suddenly groans all wrecked and desperate "I'm—" Before you can even understand what's happening, Jake is moving, quick and decisive. He shoves Sunghoon back by the hips, pulling his cock out of you with a wet, messy noise that has you gasping at the sudden emptiness. Your legs twitch, your pussy instinctively clenching down around nothing and then you watch, horrified as Jake drops to his knees in front of Sunghoon like it's normal, like it's natural and wraps his lips around Sunghoon's flushed, dripping cock without hesitation.

Sunghoon moans, really moans. Loud, guttural, shameless, the kind of sound he never gave you, the kind of sound you ached to pull out of him. Jake hums smugly around him, looking right at you, his eyes sharp and gleaming with amusement.

Like he's mocking you, almost daring you to say something. To admit how much you wish it were you making Sunghoon fall apart like that. Your breath hitches in your throat, your hands fisting in the ruined sheets, every inch of you burning with humiliation and confusion and sick, aching need.

Sunghoon stands there, looking disheveled and flushed, his skin slick with sweat, the faintest smirk pulling at the corner of his swollen mouth. Jake wipes his lips with the back of his hand but instead of stepping away, instead of giving you a moment to think, he's reaching for you.

His hand tangles in your hair firm and he's dragging you forward, toward him. You don't even resist, too stunned, too broken open already, too ruined by the heavy tension that wraps around the room like a noose and then he's kissing you, messy and wet, so incredibly obscene. You whimper into his mouth when you taste it—Sunghoon's lingering arousal still coating Jake's tongue, thick and salty and wrong. You should pull away, shove him off and spit it out you don't because Jake is holding you there, mouth slanted over yours, his free hand cradling the back of your head so you can't escape the way the taste spreads and soaks into your own tongue and somewhere in the blurred confusion of it all, you realize you're kissing back and obeying when he pulls away and looks at you with those sharp eyes, telling you to swallow.

Your knees buckle, but Jake catches you easily, turning you towards Sunghoon. "You were such a good girl for me," he says under his breath, incongruous with the essence of him still coating your lips. "You'd be even better if you let Jake fuck you too." You glance up at him through a blink, stunned, teetering on the edge of sanity, knowing exactly what you should say.

No. No. No.

But it's like there's a part of your brain wired exclusively for him, for the soft cadence of his voice, the weight of his hand on the curve of your waist, the promise of his approval, so nod weak and trembling, before your mind even finishes forming the thought.

Jake grins, triumphant and he's moving immediately, not wasting a second, grabbing your hips and turning you around like you're just something to be positioned, something to be used. "You're going to let me fuck you? After all that mouthing off? Telling me to kill myself?" he taunts, "What was it she called me again, Hoon? Your guard dog?" he adds, running his hand down your back and pressing down so you're perfectly arched for him.

You can see Sunghoon sitting back against the headboard now, watching you with lazy, half-lidded eyes. Jake's hands are rough as he spreads you open, humming low under his breath when he sees just how wet you still are. It's shameful, the way your body betrays you, throbbing and slick and eager.

"Fuck," Jake mutters, almost to himself, "Sunghoon really did break you in, huh?" You hear Sunghoon laugh, smug but you don't dare lift your head to look at him. You're too busy squeezing your eyes shut, fists curling tight in the sheets, bracing yourself for whatever's about to come.

And when it does come, when Jake finally pushes into you, it's so different, he's not as patient. He's rougher, filling you quick and deep, grunting under his breath when your body clenches down instinctively. "Still so tight," he breathes, reverent, like he can't fucking believe it. You whimper, your arms shaking, your body arching more without your permission, as he starts to move. Long, deep thrusts that make your back curve, your mouth fall open in helpless little gasps and all the while Sunghoon is watching.

In a silent possessive way, you can feel like a brand burning into your skin. You know you're not supposed to want this, you're not supposed to like the way Jake is fucking you, hard and fast and unrelenting while Sunghoon watches like you're putting on a show just for him.

Your body doesn't care, it's already chasing the next brutal, devastating high and Jake aids it, fucking you with sharp, brutal thrusts that knock little gasps and whines from your throat without mercy. Each snap of his hips punches forward into that spot inside you that feels too raw, the overstimulation crackling up your spine like electricity.

It's nothing like how Sunghoon fucked you. Where Sunghoon was calculated, almost teasing in the way he stretched you open, Jake feels like punishment, like he's trying to split you in half just because he can. His pace didn't slow once, not even when Sunghoon shifted closer, not even when the softest brush of lips pressed against your temple like a secret only you were supposed to feel. If anything, it got worse. Harder, deeper, like he was trying to fuck the kiss right off your skin.

And it was so stupid, it was so stupid, because your body betrayed you instantly, muscles clenching down around him so tight you felt it too, the way your walls tried to drag him deeper, how your toes curled and your back bowed like you were desperate for more.

Jake's laugh was low and rough against your ear, all teeth and mean amusement as he tightened his fingers around your waist. "She's fucking clenching. Just 'cause you kissed her," he taunted, and you wanted to say no, wanted to deny it, wanted to pretend you had any dignity left but it was impossible when Sunghoon's mouth was finding the corner of your lips now, slow and tender and unbearably sweet. "You're so pretty"

"Pathetic little thing," Jake cooed, voice dipped in false pity, "Sunghoon calls you pretty and you're already squeezing my cock like it's the first nice thing anyone's ever said to you." You whimpered, pressing your forehead to the mattress, trying to hide from them both, from the unbearable heat prickling under your skin. You could feel Sunghoon smiling against your cheek, soft and secretive, and when you cracked your eyes open, you caught it, that tiny, almost imperceptible look he passed to Jake. The faintest tilt of his mouth. Permission. Encouragement.

"Don't listen to him," Sunghoon murmured anyway, voice as soft as his kisses, pretending like he wasn't the one feeding the fire. His hand stroked lazily down your spine, light enough to make you shiver. "You're pretty. That's all that matters."

Pretty.

You could have cried.

You almost did.

Jake's laugh rumbled against your back as he thrust up into you again, hard enough to have you gasping, scrabbling uselessly at the sheets. "Such a good girl," Jake crooned mockingly, dragging the words out, slow and sticky like syrup. "All pretty and dumb for us."

Sunghoon just kept petting you, like you were something small and helpless. His fingers tracing your spine like he was counting your vertebrae, his mouth ghosting over your skin, and then he was murmuring almost absently, like he was thinking out loud, "So pretty like this. So pretty I almost feel bad."

You didn't even know who he was talking to—you, Jake, himself—it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except the way Jake's cock bullied into you without a hint of mercy, and the way Sunghoon looked at you like you were something sacred he was offering up to be ruined.

"Are you gonna fucking cum or what," Sunghoon muttered next, his voice a little rough around the edges, impatient, a glimpse of the colder boy underneath all the tenderness, "You never take this long with the other girls."

Jake barked a short laugh, snapped his hips forward once, hard enough to make you cry out. "Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all, "she's just a little too fucking sweet." You didn't know if he meant the way you tasted, the way you sounded, the way you looked sprawled out for them like you'd forgotten how to say no. Maybe all of it. Maybe none of it.

You couldn't think straight anymore.

You couldn't do anything but clench and sob and ache for them, feel Jake's cock dragging in and out of you, feel Sunghoon's kisses ghosting over your skin, hear their low voices murmuring above you like a prayer and a curse all at once.

You heard it, heard it even through the messy sounds of Jake using you, even through the haze of your own breathless little cries and for a second everything inside you pulled tight.

Other girls.

He said it like it meant nothing. Like it was just some passing detail, a shrug of the shoulders, a fact you should already know but you didn't and in the haze of it all you almost didn't realize Sunghoon wasn't yours, maybe he was Jake's but one thing is sure though; you weren't the first girl they'd done this with.

Your throat worked uselessly, a desperate little sound clawing up before you could stop it and you hated it, hated that they would hear it, hated that it gave you away. "S-Sunghoon"

He turned to you, still petting you absentmindedly but you could feel the slight hesitation in his touch, the way his fingers paused just a little too long at the dip of your spine, as if considering whether he'd gone too far but he didn't apologize, he didn't even look sorry. He just leaned in closer, brushing his lips over your shoulder, whispering sweet nothings into your burning skin like he could stitch up the bleeding hurt with pretty words.

"You're better than them," he murmured, so quiet you almost thought you imagined it. "So much better, baby." You despised how easily you melted for him. Jake thrust particularly deep and you choked on a sob, "Oh my God! J-Jake!", hips jerking helplessly back against him, desperate for any kind of grounding. Your mind was a mess, a riot of shame and pleasure and need and you didn't know how much longer you could hold yourself together, you tongue was already dropping out of your mouth, making you drool.

Above you, Sunghoon just smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was pleased you were breaking because to him it was probably the whole point.

Jake groaned low in his chest when he finished, the sound rattling deep in his throat, but you barely heard it. You were already gone, gone somewhere far inside yourself, where you didn't have to feel the way Sunghoon was murmuring at Jake to "go ahead, finish inside," like it was just another order to be given. Where you didn't have to feel Jake's lazy satisfaction as he spilled inside you, one hand gripping your hip like he owned you, like he had some right to leave pieces of himself inside your body.

It hit you all at once, the whiplash of it, how went from being a virgin a week ago to this, spread out, used, letting boys who barely even liked you do whatever they wanted with you. The shame was so thick it tasted metallic in your mouth. You scrambled, struggling to move, your limbs trembling and slow. Jake was still inside you and you hated it, hated the hot sticky reminder of everything you'd let happen, hated him for still being there like he had every right.

You shoved at him, weak and clumsy but desperate enough that Jake gave a startled grunt and stumbled back, finally slipping free. You barely registered it. You were already trying to crawl off the bed, blind and panicked, desperate to get away before they could see the tears slipping hot and furious down your cheeks but before you could even swing your leg over the edge, Sunghoon's hand closed around your wrist.

Firm that it makes you halt, chest heaving, refusing to look at him, refusing to let him see how broken you were. You tugged weakly against his grip, but it was useless. He didn't say anything at first, just held you there, thumb brushing thoughtlessly against the inside of your wrist, as if soothing you. As if he thought he could soothe this.

You yanked at your wrist, the pathetic sound of your struggle filling the heavy room, Sunghoon didn't even flinch and his grip stayed firm, like he barely noticed how hard you were trying. He just stared at you, something strange and unreadable flickering in his dark eyes, his gazed held confusion, as though he couldn't understand why you were crying.

His gaze dragged over your face, the wetness on your cheeks, the trembling of your mouth, the way you could barely breathe around the panic squeezing your ribs and then he asked it, so casually you almost thought you imagined it.

"Why do you cry all the time?" Asking as if your tears were an inconvenience but it makes something inside you snap. You tore your wrist out of his grip with a violent jerk, your whole body swaying from the force of it, and you backed away so fast you stumbled over yourself. You didn't even care that you were still naked, still aching, still leaking down your thighs.

"I can't believe I did this," you choked out, voice cracking, the words coming in one ugly, messy rush. "You're both fucking weird. I can't believe I let you— I can't believe I—" but before you could finish, Jake's voice cut through the air, lazy and amused, like none of this meant anything to him. "You wanted it," he said, shrugging like it was obvious. "And from the way you were moaning for us? Pretty sure you enjoyed it too."

The shame burned hotter than ever, climbing your throat like bile. You wrapped your arms around yourself, wishing you could disappear into the floor, wishing you had never met them, wishing you could scrub the memory of all of it off your skin. They weren't even trying to comfort you or apologize, they were just standing there, like you were the crazy one for thinking any of this was supposed to mean something more.

You flinched when Sunghoon moved toward you, every part of you braced to be mocked again, humiliated further but instead of laughing at you, instead of pushing you back onto the bed and telling you to take it like before, his hand came up, slow, almost unsure, and wiped the tears off your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. The touch was awkward but gentle in a way that made your throat close up. He didn't know what he was doing, you could feel it in how clumsy he was, as if affection wasn't something he gave often, like he was terrified of getting it wrong.

Before you could form more thoughts, he was leaning in, mouth brushing yours so softly it barely even counted as a kiss, just a warm press, a quiet apology he didn't know how to speak. You made a sound, something broken and desperate in the back of your throat, and he caught it with his mouth, kissing you a little harder. "Don't cry again," he mumbled against your lips.

You squeezed your eyes shut, hating him for making it worse, feeling sorry for yourself for leaning into him without even thinking.

Jake stood a few feet away, still shirtless, still burning from the inside out, arms crossed, watching the whole thing with something close to murder flashing in his eyes. He wasn't smiling anymore, the lazy, taunting smirk was gone, replace with something aimed at Sunghoon like he had just witnessed a betrayal, as though Sunghoon wasn't supposed to kiss you like that, wasn't supposed to wipe your tears or whisper anything that sounded even remotely like he cared.

Jake's jaw clenched, his fingers dug into his biceps, nails biting through the thin fabric of his shirt. It made your stomach twist, that look on his face, the look of boiling anger and ugly jealousy.

Because Sunghoon had never, not once, touched another girl like that and now he was wiping tears off your face like you were some delicate fucking thing worth saving.

Jake's hands curled into fists and stomach twisted. The anger was old, nothing new because it had been sitting in him for a long time—months, maybe.

It started at the party.

The girl, he couldn't even remember her name now but he remembered how she was giggling, clutching his arm, pressing her tits against him like she didn't know he wasn't the one she needed to impress. Jake led her through the crowd anyway, up the stairs, through the half-cracked door where Sunghoon stood against the wall sipping something dark from a cup.

"She's cute, right?" Jake said, grinning, jostling her forward a little. Sunghoon barely even looked at her before he tilted his head, caught her wrist in his hand, brought it up to his mouth and kissed it, all while his eyes were on Jake, while his smile was directed at Jake.

It was mechanical, hollow even and Jake saw it even if no one else did. Sunghoon didn't even want her, he didn't want any of them, not really anyway. He just let Jake bring girls around because it was easier to use them than admit there was nothing either of them actually wanted. It was an arrangement, an easy and disposable arrangement.

Until you, Jake had felt it the day he saw you in Heeseung's apartment, you came over, looking so nervous you could barely meet his eyes. It was supposed to be a joke, flipping up your dress while you were trying to leave. Just to see if you'd cry, just to see if Sunghoon would even bother looking.

He did.

Jake caught it—the way Sunghoon's gaze went dark, sharp, almost hungry. He was the one who leaned over, under his breath, and whispered into Jake's ear. "I want her."

You.

Jake could still feel it, the way those words made something twist in his gut, made his palms itch to hit something. Sunghoon had never said that before. Not once, not even when Jake handpicked the prettiest, most desperate girls at every party but you, standing there like some little doll about to bolt for the door. You, who they hadn't even touched yet, you were the one Sunghoon wanted.

Jake ignored it, or he really tried to. He tried to brush it off, the same way he brushed off the weird sick feeling that climbed up his throat every time you looked shyly at Sunghoon instead of him.

But then the night came. The night Sunghoon was meant to fuck you, Jake was there in his room—had the door cracked open, waiting for Sunghoon to come to him.

It should've been routine, it always was, especially with the shy or naive girls and you were certainly naive, almost borderline oblivious in Jake's opinion. Sunghoon was meant to get you ready and Jake would join later if he felt like it, they'd use you up and that would be that. Instead, Sunghoon slipped out of the room, tight-jawed, tense and cornered Jake by the kitchen sink when he came to get you the water bottle. "She's a virgin," Sunghoon said low, eyes dark and unreadable. "We're not doing this tonight." Jake had laughed because it sounded like he was joking. "What, you scared or something?"

Sunghoon just stared at him. Something ugly, something furious flickering just beneath his skin. "I'm serious," he muttered, voice rough. "I'm not ruining it like this." Like this? Like it mattered?

Jake stood there, watching Sunghoon grab a bottle of water, stall for time, anything to calm down before he went back to you. It burned something inside Jake that he didn't even know he had, not jealousy, not really, it was something worse. Jake wanted to break something. Wanted to break him.

Sunghoon is still holding your waist, like you were his to protect, his fingers pressing deep enough to bruise, yet there's a softness to his grip. He's staring at you like he doesn't understand what's wrong, his eyes searching yours like he can make sense of everything. But he can't. He won't. His breath brushes against your ear as he whispers, "Stay."

It's quiet. Almost too quiet.

Your chest tightens, the words hanging in the air like a weight you can't shake off. You feel the tears welling again, the ache in your throat, the rawness of everything you've just experienced. This wasn't supposed to be you. You weren't supposed to be here.

But you're still here. Still in Sunghoon's room. Still caught between the chaos of two boys who have never looked at you like you were anything other than a game. The thought nearly breaks you, but you keep your head tilted away from Sunghoon's searching gaze, eyes trained on the floor.

That's when Jake's voice cuts through the silence.

"She's not yours, Sunghoon," he sneers, his voice thick with mockery. "She's a free use toy now, remember?"

The words hit harder than anything physical. Sunghoon's face tightens, a flicker of anger flashing across his features for the first time. This is the first time, in all the years of living with Jake, that Sunghoon's ever asked a girl to stay in his room. He never needed to. The others, they always left when the night was over, like it was just part of the script. But with you... he's different. He wants you here. Wants you more than he's willing to admit.

And Jake knows that. He knows it, and he sees the change in Sunghoon, the shift that makes everything spiral out of control.

Sunghoon tenses, his grip on your waist tightening, but it's not to keep you close anymore. It's like a warning, a subtle shift, like he's trying to hold onto something that's slipping through his fingers.

"You don't know shit about her, Jake," Sunghoon spits, voice low, dangerous. But there's a tightness in his chest, the kind that tells you this isn't just about you anymore. This is personal.

Jake laughs, the sound cruel and mocking. "I know enough. You're just fucking delusional, man. She's never gonna be anything but a toy, something to fuck when you need it."

And that's when everything breaks. That's when the jealousy and the anger in Jake's eyes finally win out. He's seething, and there's something darker in him now, something that twists his features into a snarl.

"You think she's different?" Jake's voice rises, thick with bitter disbelief. "You think she's special? She's just a body, Sunghoon. You're no different from me."

Sunghoon doesn't even think. His fist is already flying toward Jake's face before the words are fully out of his mouth.

The sickening crack of Sunghoon's punch echoes through the room. Jake stumbles back, a flash of shock before he's charging again, but this time, Sunghoon's ready. They clash together, their bodies colliding with a force that shakes the room, like they're trying to tear each other apart with their bare hands. You watch, heart pounding in your chest, unable to move.

Jake doesn't care. His gaze is locked on Sunghoon, furious and burning, but there's something else there. Something ugly. It's like he's mad at the whole world. Mad that Sunghoon is breaking the rules, mad that he's treating you differently, and mad that he can't have you like he thought he would.

"You fucking hypocrite," Jake spits, shoving Sunghoon hard enough that he almost knocks you over with him. "You think you're better than me? You fucked her first. You let me fuck her too. Don't act like you're some fucking savior now."

Sunghoon's fist lands again, and this time, the sound of the punch is more brutal, sharper. The room stills for a moment. Everything quiets.

And then Jake stares up at him, blood dripping from him his split lip, his expression twisting into something almost unrecognizable.

"You're not special either, Sunghoon. She'll never choose you."

And that's when the weight of it hits you. Both of them are broken. Both of them have pushed you to this point. But the one you can't seem to tear your eyes away from, the one who's been different with you, is Sunghoon. It's always been him, hasn't it? Even though everything's a mess, even though your mind tells you to run, your body aches for the one who's holding you in place.

But this fight, this ugly confrontation, it feels like the breaking point. Both of them, tearing each other down, just to try and prove something to you. And you don't know how much longer you can stand it.

Jake slammed the apartment door so hard the hallway lights flickered. His chest heaved like he'd run a marathon, every breath sharp and unsteady, and his jaw ached from how tightly he was clenching it. Sunghoon's words were still ringing in his ears. His fists still burned from the impact.

And you? You were still in that room, still with Sunghoon. The echo of it made something cave inside him and he wasn't sure if it was the punch or the shame that hit hardest. It hadn't always been like this.

Two months ago, that was when Heeseung brought you around for the first time. Introduced you casually at a birthday party as his girlfriend's cousin. Jake barely remembered whose birthday it was because the moment he saw you, you eclipsed everything. Not because you were trying to. No, you didn't even speak much that night. Just nodded politely, murmured a hello. It was your eyes that did it—too soft, too open, too easy to read. He saw the way you looked at the floor more than at anyone else, how your hands fidgeted with the strap of your bag.

You didn't belong in their world of sharp words and sharper games and maybe that's exactly why he wanted you. He told himself it wasn't serious, just a passing thing. You were pretty, sure. Innocent too but surely not his type. Except he caught himself watching you, noticing you, even wondering about you but then you had to go and ruin it—by looking at Sunghoon.

He hadn't even looked at you that night, he barely nodded in acknowledgment, said something offhanded to Heeseung about you being "quiet." Sunghoon didn't see you at all but you saw him and Jake saw you.

Staring.

It was in the little glances, the way you perked up just slightly when Sunghoon's voice cut into the room. The way you didn't blink when he walked past, as though you could memorize his silhouette if you tried hard enough. Jake had watched you the whole time, watched you light up for someone who never even looked your way and it made something petty and jealous unravel in him.

He approached you that night of the art show just to tell you, you were too plain for Sunghoon, he said like a warning but it came out more like a challenge. He saw your lips part, saw the brief hurt in your eyes before you turned away.

That was the beginning.

It became a game, or that's what he told himself. Teasing you at parties, mocking the way you watched Sunghoon like he hung the fucking moon. A part of him thought that if he made you feel small enough, you'd stop looking at Sunghoon like that, maybe you'd look at him instead, maybe he could rewrite the script if he could just make you flinch enough to forget what you wanted.

Then one night, after too many drinks, Sunghoon admitted it. "She's cute." Just those two words, offhanded, they barely even meant anything but Jake saw it. The way Sunghoon had been looking at you lately—less like he didn't notice and more like he didn't know what to do with the noticing.

It hit Jake like ice water before Sunghoon even whispered it in his ear that day at Heeseung's apartment, Sunghoon wanted you and you had always wanted him, so where did that leave Jake? He didn't even know who he was jealous of anymore. You, for getting Sunghoon's attention? Sunghoon, for having yours? Or himself—for turning something tender into something so vile?

Maybe that's why he let it happen tonight. Why he hadn't walked away the moment he saw you under Sunghoon like that. Why he'd joined in, touched you like he had any right, kissed you just to claim a piece of something that was never his but none of it made the ache go away, in fact it only made it worse.

"She's not yours, Sunghoon. She's a free use toy now, remember?"

He'd said it because he was furious, he needed to get under Sunghoon's skin because to him it was easier than admitting the truth; he still wanted you and not just your body and not just tonight but when Sunghoon looked at you like that—held your waist, whispered soft things into your skin, kissed your tears away—it gutted Jake.

Sunghoon had never asked a girl to stay, not even once, not even the girls that had way more experience than you and now he was asking you.

Jake punched the wall as he reached the bottom of the apartment stairwell, breathless. His hand split open against the drywall. Still, the pain didn't come close to what was boiling in his chest because the truth was, he never stopped wanting you and now he might've lost you forever along with his best friend.

Back in the apartment, the room still smelled like sweat and anger and something unspoken, thick in the air, clinging to your skin like shame. Sunghoon's touch was gentle this time, he didn't say much as he led you toward the bathroom, one hand lingering low on your back, the other steadying your wrist where his fingers had left slight red marks earlier. You were too quiet to fight him on it, too tired to explain the weight sitting in your chest like wet cloth.

The warm water hit your skin and it felt too good, too soft, like maybe you didn't deserve it. Sunghoon didn't rush. He moved like he'd done this before, washing over you with careful fingers, rubbing suds into your arms, your thighs, behind your ears like he was memorizing the shape of you with every glide. He kissed your shoulder once. Then your temple. Then your mouth. Quick, gentle intervals like he was testing if you'd still let him.

You did.

He didn't speak until he was drying you off, voice low, half-rasped. "Lift your arms." You obeyed. Not because you were weak but because for once, it felt safe to surrender. He slipped a soft shirt over your head, long enough to brush your thighs. It smelled like detergent and cologne and him. You could get drunk off the scent alone. Your legs wobbled as you stepped into clean pair of his shorts and he caught you without a word. He tucked you in like he hadn't just broken you down hours ago. Covered you up to your chin, smoothed the damp strands from your face, lingered a little longer than he meant to. His gaze was unreadable—something suspended between guilt and awe.

"I'll be back," he murmured, like he was worried you'd vanish if he didn't say it aloud.

The sound of the shower running again was the only thing that lulled you close to sleep. You didn't hear him come back in. You just felt the bed dip and the warmth of his body sliding in behind yours, arms looping slow around your waist, chest pressing to your back like he needed to feel you breathing to believe this was real.

He nuzzled against your hair. "Come here," he whispered and he pulled you into him like you belonged there, like he hadn't just chosen you in front of Jake, like maybe he always had.

*•*•*

Jake hadn't been back to the apartment in three days. He'd spent them mostly on Heeseung's couch, pretending to watch TV, pretending he wasn't thinking about you every second he blinked. He didn't say much and Heeseung didn't ask, that was the thing about old friendships—they left space where words couldn't go.

When he came back, the apartment felt the same but emptier, he told himself he wasn't looking for signs of you but the disappointment in his chest when he didn't find any told the truth.

You're gone.

He heard the door to Sunghoon's room click open not long after. He didn't have to turn around to know it was him. They stood in the kitchen like strangers. Jake's knuckles itched with memory, so did his ribs but his voice didn't shake when he finally spoke.

"She left."

Sunghoon didn't deny it. "She needed space."

Jake almost scoffed. "From you too?" Sunghoon looked at him, and there was something devastating in the softness of it. "From the both of us."

A beat passed. Then another.

"You know why you're this angry?" Sunghoon said, his tone level. "It's not because I touched her. It's not even because she let me. It's because you wanted to be the one."

Jake's fists curled before he could stop them.

"I didn't—"

"Yes, you did," Sunghoon cut in, unshaken. "You were just too scared to be anything other than cruel."

Jake's mouth opened, but nothing came out. He couldn't argue—not really. Not when Sunghoon looked at him like he already knew, not when he didn't even have to say it. There was a shift, almost invisible. A flash of something in Jake's eyes, something like grief or longing. It passed too quickly for anyone else to notice but Sunghoon saw it and maybe that's why, as he turned away, he said, "She's at her place."

Jake swallowed. "Why are you telling me?"

Sunghoon didn't answer.

But he didn't need to.

*•*•*

The stairs felt longer than usual or maybe Jake was just nervous regardless of the five days it took him to gather the courage to show up here. His legs didn't feel steady, not when he reached the third floor. Not when he raised a hand to knock on your door. His heart wasn't racing—it was free-falling.

He almost turned around but then the door opened and you were laughing.

It wasn't a sound he'd heard ever, it was soft, light, the kind of thing that came from somewhere safe. You were mid-laugh, leaning slightly into the doorframe, probably reacting to something Yunjin said behind you. Her voice floated out from the living room. Jake barely registered it.

Because then you saw him and everything about you changed. Your smile dropped like glass slipping from a ledge. You didn't say anything but your face said enough, the laughter hadn't just faded, it had recoiled almost like you were scared, like seeing him reopened something you'd tried to bury.

Jake felt it in his chest, low and sudden and still, he didn't speak because how could he? He had no right to be hurt, not after what he did, not after everything he'd been. Still, he stood there, holding his breath, waiting to be let in.

"Can I talk to you?"

Jake's voice was soft even careful like he wasn't sure if he deserved the words he was speaking. Yunjin was at your side in a heartbeat, sliding into the doorway with one brow raised, a hand coming instinctively to your elbow. "She doesn't owe you anything," she said, her tone sharp but calm. "So if you're here to play whatever game you were playing before—"

"It's okay," you said, cutting in quietly. Yunjin looked at you, frown deepening. "You sure?" You nodded. "Just give me a minute."

There was something in Jake's eyes, something raw and unguarded and even if your brain was screaming to slam the door, your heart—traitorous and trembling—wanted to know what he had to say.

You stepped out, closing the door gently behind you, and followed him into the empty hallway.

Jake didn't speak right away.

You could see it—the way his throat worked, how his eyes flicked to the floor and then back to you, like he was sorting through a thousand things he could say and none of them felt right.

Then, finally, "I'm sorry."

It was plain, simples and unpolished, it had you blinking. "What?"

"I'm sorry," he said again, firmer this time. "For everything. For how I treated you. For flipping your skirt up in front of everyone. For saying shit that made you feel—less than." His breath caught slightly. "I'm even sorry for fucking you like that. And calling you—"

You cut in before he could finish. "A free use toy?"

He flinched. "Yeah. That."

Your arms crossed over your chest, suddenly cold. "Are you only saying this because you and Sunghoon want to fuck me again?"

Jake's eyes widened. "No. No. God, no. That's not—I'm not—" His words tumbled, frantic. "I'm not here because of that. I'm here because I have to tell you. I have to tell you that I liked you first."

Silence blanketed the hall.

Jake took a breath and stepped closer, gaze never leaving yours. "That day Heeseung introduced you, when he said you were his girlfriend's cousin, Sunghoon didn't even look at you. But I did. I couldn't stop looking at you. You were so—" He stopped himself, jaw tightening. "And then you were looking at him. Always. Like he was everything." His voice cracked on that last word.

You didn't move.

He ran a hand through his hair, voice lower now. "I didn't know how to handle it. I just— I hated that you never looked at me the way you looked at him. And it made me cruel. I know that. I know I was an asshole. But I swear to god I was only ever like that because I didn't know how else to deal with it."

You stared at him, stunned into silence, noticing how his eyes were glassy like he was begging himself not to cry and maybe for the first time, you saw him. Not as the boy who teased you mercilessly, not as the one who touched you like you were nothing but as the one who was unraveling in front of you—afraid, desperate, honest. He huffed out a breath before continuing, "I know you think I'm just awful and that Sunghoon doesn't have feelings but he does and—" "I—I promise I'll be better and he will too, just come over please." "There's so much we want to tell you" he sighed the last part like he was using the last of his energy to say it.

That was the last thing he said before he left you standing there and you don't remember agreeing, not really. It's all a blur—Jake's quiet voice on the stairwell, the look in his eyes like he was begging without asking, the way he said please, the way he mentioned Sunghoon like the words had weight in his throat.

Maybe that's why you're here, maybe it's closure, maybe it's not.

The apartment is quiet when you knock but the second the door opens, you feel a pair arms around you. "You didn't cry again, did you?" Sunghoon's voice murmurs into your hair, soft and close.

You shake your head. No, you didn't, not this time. His scent is familiar, clean soap and something warm underneath. He lingers a second too long before he steps aside and that's when you see him—Jake, standing by the kitchen counter like he's unsure whether to stay or disappear. His expression flickers when your eyes meet, but he doesn't say anything. He just watches, you used to think his stare meant mockery but now it's something else. It's waiting, even hoping.

The silence stretches and you feel like you should say something. Sunghoon glances between you two like he's used to translating tension. "We talked," he says, mostly to you. "Jake wanted to say sorry. Properly this time." You nod because right now it's all you can do.

"Can I...?" Jake's voice trails off. He gestures awkwardly toward the couch, like he's asking for permission just to sit near you. He's never been this quiet before, never this cautious.

He settles beside you with careful space between your knees. The silence isn't comfortable, but it's not hostile either, just dense with everything unspoken.

Jake speaks first, the words low and halting. "I didn't mean for it to happen like that. Any of it. I was—" He stops, jaw tightening. "I guess I didn't know who I was mad at. You. Him. Myself." Sunghoon stays leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the exchange unfold like it's something he can't touch just yet. Jake  glances at you. "You don't have to forgive me. I just... I didn't want it to end like that."

The part of you that once trembled under his cruelty now twitches at his vulnerability, you're not sure when that shifted. Somewhere between the teasing, the way he flung ugly words like armor, and the raw admission in his stare now—something changed.

Maybe you did want him, not like before, not in spite of the way he hurt you but because somewhere beneath the mess, something inside him looked like it had been reaching for you all along.

"You're not as mean as you think you are," you say quietly. Jake huffs a breath that sounds like he might cry if he lets it finish and it has you reaching for him rubbing his cheek with your thumb and you're not entirely surprised that he's leaning into your palm.

You don't know who moves first, only that the space closes and his lips are on yours now, frantic and almost clumsy, his hands find your waist and trail up to your back before he's pulling at your hair so your neck is exposed to him. He pulls away and his forehead presses against yours, Sunghoon is behind you again, kneeling on the couch and sliding a hand along your back like he's grounding you in the moment.

"You sure you want this?" Sunghoon murmurs. You nod, barely but he sees it. Jake sees it. The air shifts and you all somehow manage to make it to Sunghoon's bedroom. Their hands are everywhere, their lips too, kissing, biting, marking, Jake's hands are tugging at your clothes like they personally offended him, Sunghoon is kissing you like today is his last day on earth. He pulls off you placing kisses to your cheeks before speaking, "Come on, let Jake show you how sorry he is" he says as back away, you look to Jake and he seems to want it more than you realize. "Okay".

That was all it took for him to pull down the denim of your shorts along with your panties, staring at you between you legs like he was looking at art, "So pretty, so wet for us" he mumbles, placing kisses to your inner thighs. "Don't tease her, Jake. Do as she says", Sunghoon's voice rings through the room and it makes Jake look up at you like he's waiting for your command, the look has your breath stuttering before you say, quietly but firmly, "Eat my pussy".

Jake must have been on voice command because he immediately starts eating you out. You whimper, back arching as he leans in, licking up your folds with a deep moan like he's lost his mind.

"Fuck—Jake—"

His tongue is everywhere—sloppy, relentless, devouring you like you're dessert and he's starving and you're grinding against his face before you can help it, hand in his hair, breathy moans spilling from your lips like a prayer. Your thighs were already trembling but Jake wasn't slowing down, you looked up from his to see Sunghoon smiling down at you and it makes you moan out more, "Oh my god!"

If anything, Jake is more determined now—tongue working your clit with maddening precision, fingers spreading you open so he could taste you deeper, wetter, messier, like he's trying to pull those sounds from you. You tried to push him away—not because you wanted to stop, but because it was too much, too good but Jake just growled low and gripped your hips tighter, dragging you back to his mouth like he'd die without it.

And then, slowly, finally, he pulled back—lips and chin glistening. Your breath hitched at the sight, he looked wrecked. Hair a mess. Eyes dark and blown wide with hunger. "She didn't ask you to stop, did she?" You look up at Sunghoon as he spoke, just now noticing that he's taken his cock out, it's hard, red and leaking as he palms himself while looking right at you.

Jake look at you and then back at Sunghoon and Sunghoon comes up behind him where he is, "Go on baby, tell him what to do. Use him" he says to you but you can't really speak so instead you grab Jake's hair and pull him back where you're aching for them both.

Behind him, Sunghoon watches, calm and in control, one hand fisted in Jake's hair as if to keep him there. The warm flick of his tongue makes you jolt, your hand gripping the sheets. Jake moans into you, desperate, like he's trying to earn your forgiveness with every swirl of his tongue. You almost don't notice Sunghoon has pulled Jake's up on his knees and now has Jake's shorts and boxers down to his knees where they meet the sheets. Sunghoon looks down at Jake where his back is involuntarily arched with lust filled eyes and the sight of him spitting a dollop of saliva right onto Jake's hole has you gasping, "Sunghoon" you gasp out and he looks at you with a smirk, you look down at Jake and notice his eyes rolling back, you can't tell if it's because of how you taste or because of Sunghoon's index and middle fingers that are now pushed into him.

Jake is still trying his best, his tongue is fucking your hole so good you're trembling but then suddenly he's crying out and you see that Sunghoon has pushed his whole length into him at once and it makes Jake choke on a gasp against your pussy.

"You're losing rhythm," Sunghoon murmurs, dragging his hips back before pausing. His voice is low. "Don't you want to show her how sorry you are?"

Jake whimpers, nodding frantically, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" his lips returning to you with renewed effort—tongue trembling, breath shaking. You arch, overwhelmed at the way he's trying so hard for you. For both of you.

And it's working.

Your thighs close around his head, your moans tangling with Jake's soft cries as Sunghoon keeps rocking into him. The way Jake's mouth moves on you—messy, reverent, aching—pulls you closer and closer until you're gasping his name, your fingers tangled in his hair as you finally finish against his tongue.

Jake groans, muffled by your release, clinging to your thighs like they're the only thing keeping him grounded but then he starts moving again—this time, back against Sunghoon. "Fuck," Sunghoon hisses, voice strained as Jake starts to push back harder. "So desperate to be fucked now, huh?"

You slide forward, cupping Jake's flushed face, and he looks up at you with wide, watery eyes. Your thumb brushes away a tear rolling down his cheek. "Pretty boy," you murmur, kissing his cheek, then the other. "You're so pretty like this." The moment your voice breaks through him, his eyes widen, lips parting in a shaky moan, just like Sunghoon once did to you—Jake clenches down hard around him, the shock drawing a ragged groan from Sunghoon. Sunghoon chuckles breathlessly, eyes flashing. "Oh, now that's familiar. You remember that, sweetheart?" he says to you.

You do remember and now it's Jake—whimpering, trembling, taking it. You trail your hand down Jake's trembling stomach and wrap your fingers around his cock, already dripping. He jerks in your hand, keening, hips stuttering as you start stroking him in time with Sunghoon's thrusts.

"Oh, fuck," Jake cries. "Please—please—"

"Look at you," you coo. "Falling apart just like me." "All that anger, you're just a fucking brat huh?" you ask and he shakes his head furiously. "I—I'm not!", you keep stroking him, speeding up your movements.

Sunghoon growls behind Jake, watching your hand work him while Jake chokes on a sob and fucks himself harder on Sunghoon's cock. "K—Kiss" he whimpers, "Aww, you want a kiss baby?" Sunghoon coos but Jake can only respond with incoherent babbles now. You lean down and kiss him but that means you neglect his aching cock, when he pulls away just to moan out, you go back to stroking him.

Jake lets out a wrecked, high-pitched moan, body trembling as you reach between you and wrap your hand around his cock again . He nearly collapses.

"Please—please, I'm gonna—"

You stroke him slowly, watching the way his body bucks into your fist and back onto Sunghoon's cock in perfect rhythm. He's whining, shameless and loud, hips jerking. Every time you squeeze, he moans louder.

Sunghoon grits his teeth. "Good fucking girl," he growls to you, fucking Jake harder. "He's gonna cum just like this—such a fucking mess."

Jake's the first to break. He sobs your name as he spills all over your hand, body curling in on itself. The clenching sends Sunghoon over the edge with a groan, and he pulls Jake close, hips stuttering as he finishes inside him.

And then, silence. Just heaving breaths, sweaty skin, bodies tangled together on the sheets.

Jake collapses against your chest, still gasping, and you stroke his hair without thinking. Sunghoon lays beside him, one arm thrown lazily over his waist.

For a moment, it's quiet.

Then Jake speaks,  "You think Heeseung would be mad we fucked his girlfriend's little cousin?"

You blink. "I'm older than Yunjin."

They both whip their heads toward you.

"No fucking way," they say in perfect unison and somehow, that's the moment you realize you're probably not getting rid of either of them anytime soon.

[mullermilkshake]

Even praise hurts

Part 5 <- Part 6 -> Part 7

The association dinner goes mostly the way Jinwoo expects, yet he suspects that something darker is at play.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Mentions of unprotected sex/public sex/gore and violence/murder/drowning, mentions of babies/pregnancy, dark thoughts, intrusive thoughts, mild treats, alcohol, drinking

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

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“What took you guys so long?” Baek leant on the bar with a whiskey swirling in his hand.

Jinwoo thought it best to say nothing. If he had it his way, he’d tell the whole restaurant and bar exactly where he was and how deep, just for his own entertainment. Though he doubted you would have appreciated it.

“Traffic.” You said casually, your hand still in Jinwoo’s like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Hm,” He did not sound convinced. “Sounds about right. There’s always jackasses on the road. Glad you’re here, we’re all sitting in the back room waiting for you.”

Jinwoo fought hard to hold in his smugness, keeping everyone waiting whilst his load was dribbling from your thighs was potentially one of his top five moments in his life so far. He led the way behind Hunter Baek right through to the back room where the others were talking and smiling, Jong-in noticed you immediately and smiled, putting Jinwoo's back up immediately.

So irritating. 

“You’re here,” he grinned with his glass. “We almost thought you’d gotten lost.”

“Lots of traffic.” An adorable laugh left your lips. “Lots and lots of traffic.”

When you grinned back, Jinwoo watched Jong-in closely. Were those kind eyes, or ‘fuck me’ eyes he was giving you? Yeah, they were definitely ‘fuck me’ eyes. Just what the hell was that?

“It’s good that you’re finally here Hunter Sung, we were beginning to worry.” The Chairman did not address Jinwoo directly, rather he was looking at your hand entwined with his, a knowing stare that flitted every so often.

“We apologise, Chairman. It wasn’t our intention to arrive late.”

Jinwoo took his glances as a contest, doing the exact same towards him and Jin-chul, an all knowing glance for the conversation preciously, noting how he was studying you and Jinwoo just as closely.

The Chairman grinned and allowed you and Jinwoo to sit. “It’s quite alright, now we can make a toast to the happy couple.”

Happy couple… that’s rich coming from a man that gave them no choice.  

Hunter Lim sat next to Jin-chul, totally impassive. His arms folded the way they were signalled that he wasn’t entirely present, not until he took notice of Jinwoo. “Hey, glad you two finally made it, Yoonho’s been boring the hell out of me with random crap.”

“Were you waiting long?” Jinwoo asked with caution, according to his calculations, you and he were only late by ten minutes.

“Eh, we all decided to meet a little earlier, you didn’t get the message? So its more like forty minutes, no one could reach either of you.”

Oh shit. Well, in this case, you and Jinwoo would have arrived late regardless if he’d fucked you in his car or not, somehow it didn’t make the situation as dire as it could have been.

“Oh,” Jinwoo pulled out his phone and pretended to check through it like it actually mattered. “No, I didn’t get anything sent to me.”

Lim dismissed it and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Maybe you’ll see Yoonho get drunk this time, that can be entertaining.”

“Right… uh, where’s Hunter Ma?”

“Oh, yeah, he’s off somewhere. He couldn’t wait much longer for you so I think he went to get a light bite. He’ll be back shortly… but I guess we can get to celebrating the happy couple as happy as they can be, being forced into this like they have.”

Out of the two, Jinwoo had faith that you and he would be happy, but he saw right through the facade that Jong-in and Hae-in put up, and it fascinated him. So much so that he let one of his shadows go and attach itself to Jong-in. Just out of curiosity behind closed doors.

Jinwoo pulled out your seat for you and only then did you let go of his hand, he waited until you were seated properly. He watched the interactions between them as a toast was announced, you said something to Hae-in but his concentration picked up on the little things.

Despite popular belief, You and Hae-in rarely spoke the last two months, and even before then, it seemed to be more of a show for the public eye rather than a genuine friendship. The act of survival when one’s life is threatened to change often brings people together, and Jinwoo saw that it was that case with you and Hae-in.

She wasn’t entirely invested, it was obvious by the extra few inches distance her chair sat from jong-in, never touching hands, always at her side unless picking up her glass of water. Jong-in was more invested in you than the mother of his child, barely making eye contact with her or exchanging more than a word or two.

Trouble in paradise. And the chairman thinks it’s appropriate to berate us, instead?  

“Hey, guys!”

“Oh,” Lim snorted. “There you are, big guy. Thought you got lost too.”

Ma chuckled and flopped down in the seat next to Baek with a satisfied grin and a fleck of sauce on his cheek. He noticed you and Jinwoo and waved. “Hey you two, thought you were never gettin’ here!”

Before anyone could address that elephant in the room further, the Chairman stood up to command the room with his scotch glass. “Let’s toast to the first step in the reclaiming of our country's security and the future of the Hunter’s association… To Hunter Choi and Hunter Cha!”

Everyone toasted, raising their glasses whilst the Chairman ordered food and ordered everything to fill out the table. The mood seemed fruitful, enthusiastic, despite the ominous response to it two months ago. Even you seemed more on board with it now, chatting more and smiling a little warmer than previous weeks.

The others might not have seen it, not even you, yet Jinwoo could think of nothing else. Chairman Go and Jin-chul’s watchful eyes on everything across the table. Watching closely, Jinwoo found that as the night progressed, Jong-in and Hae-in became touchy.

A hand brush every so often, a little whisper in her ear with a smile sweeter than treacle to rot the entire table’s teeth for endless cavities. Though when those moments vanished, Jong-in was clinging on to you, with the hope of what, exactly? That he’d eventually come clean to how in love he was with you, or try to convince you that he was a better person despite having a child with another woman?

Just the thought made Jinwoo brood, grit his teeth through the boring dinner during parts he wasn’t listening just to think of ways he’d kill the man in a fit of fuelled jealousy that Jong-in even had the gall to talk to you with such familiarity-

“Jinwoo.” 

He blinked, looking down at you with softer eyes. “Hm?”

You leant closer and whispered. “You’re spacing out… are you feeling okay?” 

God… Those eyes staring up at him so innocently when Jinwoo knew you weren’t the innocent persona you allowed the public to perceive you as. If only publix sex was legal, and he definitely would have had you over the dinner table and no one could have stopped him. That would have set Jong-in straight.

“Y-yeah… I’m okay. Just tired, I think.”

You seemed to buy it. “Okay… we’ll leave soon?” 

“Sounds good.”

The Chairman cleared his throat and addressed Jinwoo properly for the first time with full eye contact. “So, Hunter Sung, when will you greet the association with the good news?”

This went against Jin-chul’s advice on keeping the night about the Hae-in's pregnancy. It was a direct threat too. Every hunter alive treated the Chairman with the respect and decency someone of his position and temperament dictated, but Jinwoo saw straight through it like glass.

By this threat, Jinwoo suspected that the Chairman had another agenda.

Why is he so hellbent on getting results this eagerly?

He glanced up at the system's quest screen, still unchanged. It wouldn’t give him an unobtainable quest so pregnancy was still possible, but with the Chairman’s urgency, something told his gut to shut it down immediately.

At the end of the day, whenever you finally fell pregnant, you and he were keeping the baby close.

“Well, we’re trying our best, Chairman. Each week we’re hopeful.”

In other words, it translated to, back off old man. 

“Well I look forward to the happy news, I have high hopes for you both.”

Long story short, what he meant to say was, hurry the hell up you two, I’m growing impatient. 

“You’ll be the first to know, Chairman-” The eruption of Jong-in’s laugh pulled Jinwoo out of the conversation.

“It’s true! Ask Yoonho.”

“Don’t ask me anything.” Baek turned away and chugged his drink with heavy eyes.

Jong-in chuckled and took a sip of his own drink, clearly giddy. “While we’re guild rivals, we get on better than others think, even Tae-gyu knows what I’m talking about- oh… maybe not.”

Hunter Lim snored away on the table, dribbling and nursing a bottle of Soju. The table acknowledged the humor and Hunter Ma commanded the table with anecdotes. Jinwoo wanted to join in, he did, because it made him understand the people he spent the most time with, but his gut told him to observe Jong-in closely.

You were unaware of this, watching Ma chuckle and tell embarrassing stories of a drunken and foolish Baek. Jong-in stole brief glances at you now and then, each time softer than the last. What was he thinking about?

About you? Friendly or intimate- no doubt there were intimate thoughts going through that head of his like a neanderthal. 

He bet Jong-in had all kinds of lewd thoughts up there in that head of his, all fabricated of course. Seeing as Jinwoo had seen you naked, touched the curves of your body and came inside you most nights, whatever Jong-in could conjure up in his mind sure as hell wouldn’t be anywhere near the real thing. Jinwoo had that edge over him, though it never got rid of the intrusive thoughts. The darker side he’d been battling with since he killed that staff member, well, even before then. Maybe after the first person he'd killed.

Each thought darker and more violent than the last though he never usually acted on them.

Since having you in his grasp, Jinwoo found them cropping up more and more often and the thought of being in a position that he’d be expected to let you go in a month didn’t help alleviate the symptoms.

It made his eye twitch, seeing another man look at you the way Jong-in did, he wanted to hurt him in a way he'd never recover with all of the mage healing in the world. He wanted him gone from your life completely, eradicated and wiped from existence.

How could he look at you the way he was doing right now when the time came and you had a newborn baby in your arms? Jong-in had a reputation to uphold as a guildmaster and having a child of his own would make quite the scandal if he was pursuing another woman.

Though Jinwoo simply wouldn’t have it, he couldn’t just get rid of him in the way he was fantasising about.

A quick dagger slice to his throat to watch the red slip out all over the floor, to see Jong-in gargle and panic because his mana would slip away with his consciousness and no amount of stupid fire would save him.

Maybe drowning him in a water dungeon, so that the only way his fire attacks would serve him any purpose would boil the water until his flesh melted from his face.

It had to be something slow… something painful. Something memorable-

“Jinwoo? Are you ready to go?”

Had he zoned out again? “Yeah, let’s get going.”

“I’ll see you in a few weeks, Hunter Sung.”

Another threat from the Chairman. Jinwoo saw it on the shining rim of his scotch glass, Jin-chul watched him too over the edge of his sunglasses. He stood and waited for the Chairman, allowing him space to pass and land a firm hand on Jinwoo’s shoulder.

“I’m counting on you.”

I bet you are, Chairman Go. 

Jinwoo was counting on it as well, to keep you close to him and take care of you. There was a lot to think about, much to discuss with you. Many concerns he wasn’t so sure he should come out with until he could investigate further.

Though his quest remained the same.

To get you pregnant within the next month.

Part 5 <- Part 6 -> Part 7

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DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

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[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (24 - The Last Day)

Chapter Summary: “Promise me,” you murmured between kisses, your hands roaming over her bare back. “Promise me that when you’re backed into a wall, you don’t think twice. You run. Run back to me. Don’t be a hero.”

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 5.1k+ | Chapter Tags: angst, smut

A/N: Infinity War > Endgame, honestly. There won't be an update next Wednesday as it's already finals week for me :) // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Wakanda was a fortress. 

From where you stood, gazing at the seemingly endless plains and lush forests that cloaked the hidden nation, you could almost believe you were safe. The sight of the golden African sun spilling over the landscape had a sort of hypnotic effect—like it was trying to convince you there was no danger beyond these borders. 

Of course, you knew better. Nowhere was safe with Thanos out there, collecting the Infinity Stones one by one. 

You tore your gaze away from the sweeping view, letting out a heavy sigh before turning to Wanda. She stood beside you on the balcony, arms wrapped tightly around herself, her face etched with quiet worry as she stared into the distance. With Vision gravely wounded and the impossible task of removing the Mind Stone without ending his life looming over everyone, she’d been on edge. You didn’t blame her. Vision was her friend and she cared about him. 

You slid closer, pressing a comforting hand to her back. “You okay?”

Wanda nodded, though she didn’t take her eyes off the horizon. “I will be,” she murmured, her Sokovian accent thickening with anxiety. You didn’t even realize it was still there. “It’s just… I hate waiting like this.”

You remembered the feeling of helplessness in Scotland: Vision had been pinned down, helpless, and you and Wanda had been forced to watch as he was nearly killed for the stone in his head. You closed your eyes, shoved the memory down, deep into that place where unwelcome things go to rot. You were both seconds away from the same fate—until Steve and Natasha arrived, pulling you all back from the brink. Just in time. Always just in time.

“They’re good people here,” you assured her. “They’ll find a way.”

“I know. I just…” Wanda swallowed thickly, her words catching in the process. “I… we were naive to think this was just another assignment. We’ve lost so much already.”

She didn’t have to say who else she was referring to. You knew about her parents, her brother, everything she had endured. And now, this war was threatening to take more. You gently pulled her into a side embrace, resting your forehead against hers for a moment.

“We’ll do whatever it takes,” you promised, and you meant it.

—

You left Wanda alone with her thoughts and headed to the lab. It was a pressure cooker—hissing, ready to blow—filled with people moving like they were on rails, locked into some critical task. Everyone had a job, a purpose and no task felt too small when the goal was stopping Thanos. 

You came here because you needed to know your place in all of this—what you could do, how you could help. You couldn’t stand the idea of just waiting around while everyone else carried the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Bruce Banner stood at a console, studying Vision’s neural scans. He didn’t look happy. You worried he’d start turning green from all the stress of figuring out the impossible task of separating the Mind Stone from Vision without reducing him to something less of a being and more like his former iteration. 

“How’s he doing?” you asked.

Bruce didn’t glance up. “Stable, for now,” he said. “Shuri’s stasis is the only thing keeping him that way.” He finally met your eyes. “If we remove the stone and botch it, we lose him completely. We don’t have a margin for error.”

Shuri spun around, sweeping a hologram to the side. “Banner, look here,” she said, pointing to a tangle of code. “If we sever this pathway first, we won’t risk a chain reaction in the cerebral cortex.”

Bruce studied it. “You’re sure?”

“As sure as I can be,” Shuri replied, not missing a beat. “But I’ll need time to reroute all these connections.” Her face tightened. “If Thanos shows up in the middle of that, or if anyone so much as unplugs the wrong cable, Vision’s done.”

Across the lab, T’Challa and Okoye conferred with Natasha Romanoff over a holographic map showing Wakanda’s borders. Multiple defensive lines lit up around the perimeter, funneling any possible attackers into one choke point.

Okoye pointed at the display. “We force them here,” she said. “We strike from both sides, and the rest of our forces remain mobile—ready to reinforce wherever the line thins.”

Natasha didn’t look away from the map. “Works for me. If Thanos wants what’s in Vision’s head, he’ll have to go through an army of Wakandans first.”

You caught T’Challa’s eye. “Where do you need me?”

T’Challa broke away from the map and leveled his gaze on you. “I need you with Shuri,” he said, “I hear you’ve been trained by Barton and Romanoff—made a habit of picking up new skills fast. My sister needs the best at her side.”

You swallowed hard, nodding. You understood what he meant without him spelling it out. If Shuri’s lab got breached, there wouldn’t be much left to protect outside.

“Tell Wanda I want to speak with her.” T’Challa added.

It wasn’t your place to ask, but you needed to know. “Where do you need her?”

He let his gaze drift to the massive layout of Wakanda’s borders. “The front lines.”

You’d been afraid he’d say that. You knew Wanda could handle herself, but the thought of her out there—exposed to whatever Thanos threw their way—turned your blood cold. Still, there was only one answer to give.

“Understood,” you said.

—

You stepped out of the lab, feeling a strain behind your eyes you couldn’t shake. Down the hall’s half-light, you spotted Steve and Natasha talking in low voices. Whatever it was, you could tell right away it wasn’t a happy conversation—probably the number of casualties from other places, other worlds, an entire universe. 

Steve caught sight of you first. His eyes dipped to your hand. “That a ring?” he asked. Then, without waiting for your answer, he offered a soft smile. “Congratulations. And… I’m sorry.” You understood exactly what he meant—sorry that a moment like marriage had to happen with a crisis looming.

“Thanks,” you said, offering him a timid smile. “For that and for coming to help me and Wanda in Scotland. I owe you.”

Steve shook his head. “No debts among friends.”

You cleared your throat again, forcing your nerves down. “Mind if I talk to Natasha alone?”

He glanced at her, then nodded. “Sure,” he said, stepping aside. “I’ll go see how Shuri’s doing.”

With that, Steve gave you a pat on the shoulder and slipped away, leaving you alone with Nat.

Natasha folded her arms across her chest and gave you a once-over. Her eyes landed on the ring before she spoke. “So,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “You got married, and I didn’t even get an invite?”

You fumbled for a response. “It wasn’t exactly a ceremony—”

She waved you off. “Relax, I know the details. Wanda and I caught up already.”

“Oh.”

Natasha’ss lips twitched into a half-smile. “So you married your assignment. I guess you really like to go above and beyond.”

A laugh escaped you, along with some relief. “We both know you only gave me that job so I’d have a valid excuse to chase after her.”

Natasha merely smiled, letting you know she was waiting for what you really came here for.

“Listen, Natasha. About the messages you sent…” You rubbed the back of your neck. “Look, I’m sorry about that. Things… they got complicated, and I just—” You trailed off, not sure how to put it all into words.

Natasha gave a slight shrug, like she’d seen all this coming. “I get it now,” she said. “Don’t worry about it. If I thought we couldn’t do without you, trust me, I’d have found a way to drag you back.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So you don’t need me, then?”

“Of course we do,” she shot back, “but it also means if you’d walked away, I’d understand.”

You exhaled slowly, guilt chewing at you. “I walked out on Steve, you know.”

A corner of Natasha’s mouth tugged up. “Steve told me he couldn’t find you.”

You looked down, your foot scraping the floor. Natasha took a step closer to you, her entire posture becoming a little rigid.

“This Thanos thing isn’t just another mission. It’s everything—our lives, the lives of everyone in this universe. Mine, yours, Wanda’s. I promise I’ll fight to the end for all of us. For this team. And I hope you’ll do the same,” she said.

You felt an odd calm settle over you. “I promise. For Wanda, for you, for all of them.”

Natasha’s face softened, and she clapped you gently on the shoulder. “I’m glad to have you back, Y/N.”

—

You found her in the small quarters Wakanda had assigned the two of you, sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing pajamas you recognized from your old drawer in Scotland. The cotton was a bit wrinkled—made sense, given you’d both only had ten minutes to pack what you could before leaving the life you’d built together.

Wanda looked up when you entered, pushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Hey,” she said.

You set your jacket on a nearby chair, letting out a long breath. “Hey yourself.”

You crossed to the bed, and for a moment, all you wanted was to sink into her warmth, forget the day, and pretend tomorrow didn’t exist. But the world wouldn’t let you off that easily.

“Natasha filled me in,” you said. “I’ll be posted in the lab with Shuri. Make sure no one interferes with her while she works on Vision.”

Wanda’s eyes lit up in quiet relief. “I’m glad,” she whispered. “Someone has to watch out for him.” She set aside whatever she had been distracting herself with. “You’re the best person for that job.”

You blew out a breath. “Doesn’t mean I’m thrilled you’ll be out there on the front lines, Maximoff.”

Wanda giggled and tapped the spot beside her. With an exaggerated sigh, you flopped onto it, resting your head comfortably in her lap. “You worry about me?”

You closed your eyes and she started massaging your scalp, making you mewl in appreciation. “Of course, I do. I’m your wife.”

Wanda laughed. “Wife,” she repeated fondly. Then she sighed and said, “I need to be where the fight is. All this power… what good is it if I’m not going to use it to protect the people I love?”

You opened your mouth, but no argument came out. You wanted to tell her to stay safe, to keep her away from Thanos’s reach, but you knew there was no talking her out of a fight she believed in. She had never backed down.

“Just… be careful,” you whispered, voicing the same plea you’d made countless times, even though you both knew Wanda could handle herself as well as anyone.

Wanda huffed softly, her hand smoothing over your hair. “I’m always careful,” she murmured, eyes softening with concern. “But I also have to do what I can out there. You know that.”

“I do,” you admitted, shifting so you could look up at her. 

The bed dipped as she scooted beside you, the cotton of her pajamas brushing your arm. Wanda leaned down, her hand settling at the side of your face. Your hand slid around Wanda’s waist, pulling her closer until she was nearly on top of you, your lips parting against hers in a  tentative kiss.

“Wanda…” you breathed, voice catching on the edge of desperation.  You had missed her. It felt like an eternity had passed in the single day you couldn’t be alone together. She didn’t answer, only kissed you deeper, pouring a day’s worth of tension into the press of her body against yours.

You rose from your position and tugged her with you onto the bed fully, your fingers curling into her shirt. She helped you yank it off, and then she was pulling at yours, too, the scent of her hair flooding your senses. You helped each other strip away clothes that felt suddenly cumbersome, until there was nothing left but skin on skin. You found yourself pressed into the bed, Wanda’s body above yours, her hair falling like a curtain around your face.

In that moment, you could no longer stop yourself from being selfish.

“Promise me,” you murmured between kisses, your hands roaming over her bare back. “Promise me that when you’re backed into a wall, you don’t think twice. You run. Run back to me. Don’t be a hero.”

She froze, her mouth curved into that coy smile at hearing your repetitive plea. You could see the flicker of mild annoyance at your overprotectiveness—like she thought you were being adorably childish. But then you felt your throat tighten, tears suddenly burning in your eyes at the thought of losing her.

“Please,” you choked out, a tear slipping free. “Please, Wanda… I can’t—I can’t lose you.”

The teasing smile she wore vanished instantly. “Oh, love,” she whispered, pulling you into her arms. You let yourself cry silently into her shoulder for a few moments, feeling a little pathetic for breaking down like this. You knew asking Wanda to run was an absurd request, but you had to say it. Deep down, you knew it would absolutely destroy you to lose her in any way.

Wanda’s own voice cracked as she cupped your cheek, guiding your gaze back to hers. “I’ll come back to you,” she promised. “I promise—if there’s nowhere else to go, I’ll run. I’ll run straight to you.”

You swallowed hard, nodding as you let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, brushing away your tears with the back of your hand.

Wanda kissed you again, and this time, her hands slid lower, her hips shifting against yours. You surged up to meet her, your palms sliding over her ribs as she gasped into your mouth. The slow, careful strokes turned into something more insistent: hungry, messy, a collision of lips and muffled pleas.

“Y/N, please…” Wanda mumbled almost incoherently as she moved down your jaw. The huskiness in her voice sent a thrill through you, and you pecked her inviting mouth one more time before moving behind her and circling your arm around her waist, as she braced herself on all fours. Her skin was warm under your touch, her back arching instinctively as she pressed her hips back against you.

Leaning forward, you pressed a line of kisses down her spine, your lips lingering at the base where her back dipped. She shivered, her breath hitching as your other hand trailed down her side, fingertips grazing her hip before settling between her thighs.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” you murmured roughly as you watched her body respond to your touch.

Her only response was a soft moan, her hands gripping the sheets as your fingers found her wetness. You teased her entrance, sliding two fingers slowly inside, feeling her walls tighten around you as you filled her. Wanda gasped, her head dropping forward as her thighs trembled, trying to adjust to the sensation.

“God, you’re always so tight,” you groaned, curling your fingers slightly to press against her sweet spot. “And so fucking wet for me…”

She whimpered, her hips instinctively rocking back against your hand. You set a slow rhythm, pulling your fingers out before pushing them back in, deeper each time. The sound of her arousal, slick and wet, only made your hand work harder, your body pressed closer, your clit brushing against the soft curve of her buttocks. The contact sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and you couldn’t help but let out a shaky moan. You adjusted slightly, angling your hips so your clit slid more deliberately against her with each thrust of your fingers.

Wanda’s moans grew louder, and with every motion of your hand, you felt her body tense, her back arching against you. She pushed her hips back more insistently, searching for the friction she needed. “Y/N… I’m so close,” she whimpered, her thighs trembling under your hands, her walls fluttering around your fingers.

But you weren’t ready to let her go over that edge yet. You slowed your pace deliberately, still lazily pressing your clit against her slippery skin. “Not yet, baby,” you murmured, lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Just hold out a little longer for me…”

A frustrated moan escaped her lips, and she tilted her hips back more aggressively, trying to coax you into giving her the release she craved. But you held your pace, savoring the way her body trembled under your control.

“I want to come,” she whimpered, her hands clutching the sheets so tightly her knuckles whitened.

“Patience, baby,” you said, dragging your fingers almost completely out of her before easing them back in, slow and deliberate.

The friction of her skin against your clit, her soft gasps, the way she was so pliant beneath you—it was all driving you dangerously close to the edge. But you held back, biting your lip as you drew out the moment, not wanting it to end too quickly.

Your free hand, which had been holding her steadily against you, slid lower, fingers brushing over her swollen clit. The second you started rubbing her there, your own body jolted with need. Your hips snapped forward, rubbing yourself against her shamelessly.

“I’m close,” you ground out, fingers working Wanda’s slick flesh at a fast, demanding pace. “C-Come with me…”

Her body tensed, her walls clenching around your fingers as a broken sob of your name fell from her lips. You didn’t stop, didn’t ease up as your own orgasm hit, your hips grinding harder against her as you rode the waves of pleasure together.

Wanda’s cries blended with your moans, the two of you lost in each other as you shuddered and gasped. Your hand stayed on her clit, guiding her through every aftershock until her body went limp beneath you, her breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts.

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to her shoulder as you both came down, your bodies still trembling. “You’re so perfect,” you murmured softly, kissing the damp skin of her neck. “So fucking perfect.”

Wanda let out a soft, tired laugh, her hand reaching back to thread through your hair. You collapsed beside your wife, your body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. A shaky breath left your lips as you rolled onto your back, exhaustion settling into your bones like a warm, heavy blanket.

Wanda was quick to shift position, sliding over to curl around you. She coaxed you onto your side, gathering you in her arms as though you weighed nothing. 

“Come here,” she murmured, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. You sighed contentedly, letting yourself sink into her embrace. It felt so safe—like no matter what happened outside this room, no matter what the world threw your way, you could face anything.

“You love me,” you murmured, already drifting toward sleep. You felt her smile against your skin—amused by this little ritual of yours, saying the other’s love out loud first.

“You love me too,” she whispered back.

Wanda’s fingers moved in slow, soothing patterns across your back—until they stopped. She let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “For making you cry earlier. For—”

You cut her off with a soft shake of your head, your arms tightening around her waist. “Just promise me,” you said.

“I promise,” she whispered, her own eyes shining. “I’ll always find my way back to you.”

—

It’s twenty-three days later, and Wanda’s promise never came true.

People wandered around in dazed confusion, half of them gone, the other half trying to make sense of what remained. You barely recognized the place. You barely recognized what was left of your team—or even yourself.

You had no idea where the motivation to wake up each morning came from. Maybe it was the faint ember of hope burning inside you, the belief that whatever the stones had done could somehow be undone. That if Thanos had caused this, he could reverse it. You just had to find him. As long as he was out there, there was a chance to bring everyone—and Wanda—back.

It tore at you to see Wanda’s location still pinned on your phone, only to realize it led to the bedroom you had shared in Wakanda. She had left it there that morning, tucked under her pillow on her side of the bed before joining Natasha on the frontlines. It killed you to know her true location was nowhere. And yet, in moments of weakness, you found yourself checking her GPS as if it would somehow change. Old habits die hard—and you couldn’t seem to escape this one no matter how much it amplified the Wanda-shaped hole in your heart. 

This morning, you found yourself at the old Avengers compound. The halls felt cavernous and too quiet. You checked in, as usual, with Natasha, Bruce, Steve—whoever was around. Most folks you ran into had that same thousand-yard stare, the same one that greeted you in the mirror every time you looked.

You spent hours in front of the massive digital map that dwarfed the main operations room, searching for any scrap that might lead you to Thanos. Where’d he gone? How had he disappeared so thoroughly? You chewed on the question day after day, ignoring exhaustion, heartbreak, and even hunger. If there was a lead, you’d chase it. If there was a whisper of information, you’d hunt it down.

Steve approached as you stood at the console, looking weary in a way you had never seen before. He was usually so determined and motivated, but now, for once, he seemed human—no longer everyone’s constant beacon of hope. He rested a hand on your shoulder, a gesture he’d been making with everyone lately. You figured it was his way of reassuring himself that you were still there, after watching the people he cared about turn to nothing but particles in the air.

“You’ve gotta give yourself a break,” he murmured. “You look like you’re running on fumes.”

You pulled away gently, shrugging him off. “I can rest after we find him,” you said, voice clipped. You tried to keep the desperation under control, and so far, it was working. 

Steve exhaled, resting his hands on his hips. “We’re working on it,” he said. “As soon as we locate Tony—”

“That’s one of my concerns, actually,” you cut him off, rounding the center table to put distance between you. “We don’t know if he’s even still alive, Steve. It’s been three weeks since—”

Steve’s posture stiffened, and his eyes narrowed. “Finding Tony is the top priority,” he said, voice low and taut, like he’d repeated it a hundred times already. “If Banner’s right—if the people we lost can be brought back somehow—anyone we lose now might be gone for good.”

You let out a scoff and almost regretted it immediately, knowing how apathetic it must have sounded. “It’s been three weeks, Steve. If he’s out there, do you honestly believe he’s got enough air, water, or food to survive? We’re gambling on a possibility that shrinks every day.”

“Those are the orders,” Steve fired back, his jaw set. “We focus on finding Tony.”

“Orders?” Your laugh came out harsh. “Whose orders, exactly?”

“Mine,” Steve said, squaring his shoulders. “And I’m not asking.”

You felt your pulse surge. “So that’s it? We chase a ghost ship with no sign of life, no backup plan—while the rest of the universe dangles by a thread?”

Steve’s hand slammed down on the table. “We don’t abandon our own!”

You closed the distance between you, anger flaring. “Don’t talk to me about abandoning anyone! I’m trying to be realistic—”

“That’s enough.” His voice was ice. “You’re out of line.”

“Am I?” You leaned in, practically nose-to-nose. “We all want Tony back, but it’s time we—”

Natasha, who had just arrived, slipped between you. She pressed a firm hand against your chest. “Both of you, stop. We don’t have time for this.”

Steve backed off first, turning away with a muttered oath. You stayed put, adrenaline coursing, hands balled into fists.

Natasha grabbed your arm and steered you out of the room. Once in the hall, she spun you around, eyes blazing. “Hit me.”

You blinked, breath catching. “What?”

She dropped into a ready stance. “I said hit me. Clearly you need to let it out.”

You didn’t move. “No.”

She shook her head. “If you don’t acknowledge what you’ve lost, it’s gonna eat you alive.”

“There’s nothing to grieve,” you said evenly, willing yourself to believe your own words with every fiber of your being.  By now, Natasha understood that no matter what she said, it wouldn’t get through to you. She knew Wanda meant the world to you, and you were driven by a personal mission. In her opinion, you were still handling it better than Clint, who had lost his entire family.

“Look, Steve needs you,” she said after a moment. “And I—”

Her sentence was cut short by a sudden commotion from outside. You both froze, exchanged a quick glance, and then ran for the exit. 

People were already gathered on the makeshift runway by the compound’s wide hangar doors. You elbowed your way through the small crowd—Bruce, Rhodey, Steve, and a handful of others—until you reached the front.

And there, at the heart of it all, Carol Danvers was bringing Tony Stark home.

—

It figured that the missing piece to finding Thanos was his own daughter, Nebula.  A snap-like energy signature had been detected across the galaxy just two days earlier, and with the new information she provided, Steve gave the team only a few hours to prepare before setting a course for Planet 0259-S.

If you had been a little apprehensive about the plan to find Thanos, the actual act of locating him—now the biggest hurdle solved—allowed you to fully lean into the expectation that it was only a matter of time before everyone was back, and everything returned to how it was supposed to be. The Avengers had never lost to anyone, not even gods. There was no doubt in your mind that you could all overcome a mere Titan.

So you and the remaining team boarded the modified Benatar—Nebula insisted it was the only ship fast enough to reach the planet in time. You still remembered the moment the engines roared to life, and you caught yourself thinking about Wanda. She would’ve stood at the viewport, eyes wide, taking in the stars with that sense of wonder she always had. But you also reminded yourself that you wouldn’t even be here if Wanda—and trillions of others—hadn’t vanished into dust. 

It was your first trip beyond Earth’s orbit, but it felt like mere minutes before Nebula’s voice crackled through the comms: “Entering the atmosphere now. We’ll touch down in thirty seconds.” Below stretched a battered field of half-dead crops under a sky like stale ash. You and the others fanned out once the ramp lowered—Steve, Banner, Rhodes, Thor, Carol, Natasha, Rocket, and Nebula. Even with the thinning hope in your veins, you still felt a faint thrill of certainty that you’d see that monster face to face and force him to undo this nightmare.

Thanos appeared in your line of sight, sitting on a makeshift stoop in front of a tumbledown shack, his left arm twisted and scarred from the energy of the Gauntlet. He looked worn, as if using the Stones had left him a husk of what he’d been. 

From this point on, it was an ambush—the most ruthless attack Steve had ever sanctioned for the team. You were surprised to see he had it in him. You wanted to strike Thanos yourself, but Natasha held you back, letting the superpowered members and those equipped with advanced suits handle the dirty work. Thor didn’t hesitate to hack off the Titan’s hand, and you actually smiled at Thanos’s screams as you, Natasha, and Steve closed in on the shack.

Rocket rolled over Thanos’s severed hand, the gauntlet still attached. What you all saw next pushed you further into madness:

Every single stone was missing.

Blood had rushed to your head, but you could still hear Steve very calmly inquire where the stones were, despite the ringing that had started in your ears. 

“...after that, the stones served no purpose beyond temptation…” Thanos uttered.

“Where are the stones?” Natasha repeated, her patience slipping in a rare moment of unease in front of an enemy.

“Gone,” Thanos uttered. “Reduced to atoms.”

“You used them two days ago!” Banner yelled.

“I destroyed the stones… using the stones.”

Everything turned to static the moment you heard the word destroyed. You’d pinned your hope on the Stones—on using them to bring her back. Now there was nothing. It was like the ground gave out beneath you, your entire center of gravity tilting around one brutal truth: Thanos hadn’t just wiped out half the universe—he’d taken your only way of undoing it.

The blood pounding in your ears muffled the exchanges. You saw Nebula’s lips move. You heard Thanos’ bullshit about realizing too late how he mistreated his own daughter. But it was like you were trapped in an echo chamber, drowning out the present.

Gone. Reduced to atoms.

He’d destroyed the Stones. You would never see Wanda again.

It was over.

You were quick to draw your pistols and fire a shot straight into his eye, but Thor was quicker—his axe already swinging, aimed directly for the head.

There should have been relief, or maybe some triumph in exacting revenge on the monster who’d purged half the universe. But there wasn’t. Only emptiness. The final blow had landed, and it changed nothing. Wanda was still gone, along with the rest.

A sick sense of finality wrapped around you, the suffocating knowledge that the Snap was permanent.

A few seconds later, Natasha laid a hand on your shoulder. You didn’t bother looking at her. You could feel her gaze, searching your face for any sign of composure. She’d find none. Nebula stood at a distance, staring at the father who had never been a father.

Someone—Carol maybe—muttered, “Let’s go.” And so you did. You stumbled away, feet dragging as if the scorched earth itself was holding you back.

It wasn't a victory. Not by a long shot. It was just the end of one more impossible avenue, closing shut.

The crushing grief welled up inside you, too much to contain. Finally, a scream ripped free from your throat, raw and guttural. It didn’t make you feel any better. It didn’t make it hurt any less. 

But for a fleeting moment, it was all you could do to keep from drowning.

[sweetdispatch]

8 pieces with panda cotta, honey, and marshmallows

Laundry - L. Hughes

v' bakery pairing: Luke Hughes x fem!reader summary: A bet with your friend helped you to admit your feelings to Luke but he doesn't know about it warning: none

You’ve met Luke in university and something clicked between you two. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and how great he is. You wanted him as someone else rather than just a friend but you weren’t sure if he feels the same. He never showed you that you two might have a chance as a couple. 

But Luke was just shy. He really liked you and didn’t want to scare you by throwing himself at you. He thought that it’s too fresh to even think about being a couple, that's why he was waiting for the proper moment. 3 months went by and he still treated you as a friend. You felt heartbroken and your friend could tell that this situation is bugging you. 

“Just ask him” Your friend told you.

“What the hell am I supposed to ask him?” You looked at her. 

“Ask him out. I don’t know, take him to a diner and just tell him how you feel” She shrugged. 

“I can’t. I don’t want to look desperate” You sighed and threw yourself on a bed. 

“Okay, let’s do it your way. I bet that you two will end up together after dinner. I’ll do your laundry for the rest of the semester if i’m right” She said knowing that this is the only way to motivate you. 

“And what if you’re wrong?” You asked her. 

“You’ll be doing my laundry” She smiled at you and you laughed. 

“Deal” You shook her hand and texted Luke to ask him to go with you to the diner. 

Your friend was right. When you admitted your feelings to Luke, he told you exactly the same thing. You two became a couple after the dinner and nothing could be better. He was your rock and you were his biggest supporter. Something that was scary for him at first, was an incredible experience. 

With every day, you two had been stronger than ever. Even when Luke left to play in New Jersey, both of you could feel the love radiating. After his season was finished, you were having your finals and that’s why, he decided to visit you in your dorm instead of going back home. He knocked on your door and your friend opened them. 

“Luke, hi” She hugged him. 

“Is Y/N there?” Luke asked her. 

“She’s in the library but you can wait for her here because I’m leaving. Also your welcome�� She said and left the room. 

Luke was confused about what she meant by that. He was thinking about it all the time he was in your dorm. After an hour, the door opened and you spotted him sitting on your bed. You threw your bag on the floor and jumped into his arms. 

“I missed you” You kissed his cheek. 

“I missed you too. I didn’t know you’re now studying in the library” Luke joked. 

“I had to go there. My friend was arguing with her parents over the phone and I couldn’t focus so I went there” You told him while still hugging him. “I’m so happy to see you here” 

“Can I ask you a question?” You nodded your head. “What did your friend mean by saying your welcome to me?” 

You froze in his arms. You completely forgot to tell him that she was the one who made the stupid bet to motivate you to ask him out and tell you about your feelings. You knew you had to tell him the truth but you didn’t want to ruin your relationship. You sat down on the bed next to him and took a deep breath. 

“Remember the night when we became a couple?” You asked him carefully. 

“Of course. How could I forget?” Luke told you. 

“It was kinda a bet with her” You said and Luke looked at you surprised. “But listen, I had feelings for you but I was too scared to tell you about them so she made a bet with me to tell you this. She knew that this will motivate me to finally admit the truth to you” 

“So if not her bet, we would still be only friends?” Luke asked you. 

“Probably” You told him quietly. 

“Well I’m gonna thank her personally” Luke stood up ready to do it. “That was the best thing she ever did” 

“I don’t even know where she is. This can wait till tomorrow” You told him shocked that he’s not mad about it. “Everything is fine between us? Because I know how this looks and I will completely understand if you’re mad at me” You said and looked at your hands. 

“Look at me” You didn’t react so Luke gently placed his hand under your chin. “I’m not mad. I couldn’t be mad at you, especially if this helped us to be together” Luke placed a kiss on your forehead and you smiled. 

“If you want, we can go to the store and buy her something for being the wingman” You proposed and Luke nodded his head. He grabbed your hand and both of you went out to pick flowers and candies for your friend as a thank you. 

[revelboo]

So now you've done both ES Soundwave and ES Starscream.... You should totes do a one-shot with both I think it'd be a fun dynamic lmao (I can't stop. It's invading my every waking thought. Ó⁠╭⁠╮⁠Ò help)

Like how you did with Everything is Alright. If you want ofc

(⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡ (sends you loves)

xD nice 🔞 mass displaced mechs 🌶️

Scenario-shared

ES Soundwave x Reader, Starscream x Reader

• He’s back. Head turning with a low, warning growl as the Seeker just stalks into his makeshift base of operations like he has every right to be there. Wings flaring aggressively to make him want to lash out. And Starscream heads straight for where you’re curled up in your nest of blankets on his berth napping. Not even acknowledging him as he reaches to scoop you up and Soundwave hears your startled ‘what?’

• “You wouldn’t believe my day,” Starscream growls, holding you up to optic level as you cling to his servos. Can hear Soundwave snarling behind him and his flicks his wings in dismissal. Knowing the other mech isn’t about to risk their fragile truce when Soundwave needs his scientific knowledge. “That Autobot filth harassing me.”

• Blinking sleepily at Starscream, you rest your cheek against his servos. Because if he’s here, he’s horny. Or lonely. Maybe both. And Soundwave isn’t happy about his unwanted houseguest. Or the cost he’s charging for his help. Namely, you. At first, just someone to listen to him complain, a captive audience, but things had gotten complicated fast. “Did they hurt you?” You ask and he scoffs, wings flaring out. What you can’t figure out is why Soundwave cares if you and Starscream hook up. He’s made it abundantly clear that you’re expendable. You’d almost swear he’s jealous, though.

• “They’re too slow to ever catch me,” the Seeker boasts and you smile up at him. And Soundwave considers stabbing him in the optic with a tool. Repeatedly. Bristling as the Seeker sits on his berth and mass shifts so you’re in his lap. Servos flexing into fists as Starscream coaxes you into stripping for him, his mouth and hands wandering over you. Gripping the edge of his workstation hard enough to dent the metal as the Seeker whispers something in your ear to make you laugh. Shifting against you as he frees his spike and you whimper. “About my offer to take your little pet off your hands?” Starscream growls, burying his spike inside you, hips pumping.

• Because even if you’re Soundwave’s pet, you’re his. Growling as his wings flick, he moves against you, spike stroking deep into your wet heat. At first it was just about taking the edge off and you’d been willing with a little coaxing, so stressed out from dealing with Soundwave that you willingly entrusted yourself to him. Wanting a protector most likely. But then he’d gotten close to you, gotten to know you. And sooner or later, he’s just going to steal you even if it ruins this. Needs Soundwave on his side and preferably in his debt, but needs you more.

• Head thrown back as he moves against you, you can hear Soundwave’s furious rumbling, he’s always worse after Starscream visits. Sometimes throwing things and looking like he’s thinking about murdering you. Of course it could be that Star always takes you in his berth. Legs hooking around his waist as his mouth brushes yours, you’re not sure what this is between you. Or why a very messed up part of you enjoys knowing Soundwave is watching you. Head turning you shiver as his visor flares, his stare like a physical caress.

• Can’t look away as your back bows with a ragged cry and Starscream keeps thrusting before overloading with a growl. Nudging his head against yours, the Seeker cups your cheek in a hand in a painfully intimate gesture, whispering to you. Hates the Seeker. And hates you for making him care what happens to you, for caring that it’s another mech mounting you, filling you, claiming you as his. He shouldn’t care about you at all.

• Brushing his mouth against your forehead, Starscream slips free of you, wings flicking. And these quick moments aren’t nearly enough. “Be reasonable. You said it yourself, you hate humans,” he says, turning to look at Soundwave. “Name your price.” And he has to duck as Soundwave chucks a tool at him with a snarl, more unhinged than normal, but then he’s been a mess since Megatron’s betrayal. Venting as he glances at you, he knows he can’t just take you. Soundwave’s strangely possessive of you, but he’ll steal you and make it look like you escaped. “You should work on that temper,” he growls, mass shifting and leaving. For now.

• Bracing for Soundwave’s pissed off reaction, you shiver when he turns his glare on you. Attention dipping to the mess you and Starscream just made on his berth. “Why won’t you just let me go with him?” You manage as he stalks your way, rumbling angrily. “You don’t want me here.” And Star does want you. Tells you how much he needs you.

• Mass shifting as he joins you on the berth and you stumble to your feet, eyes wide. Backing away before he grabs your wrist, pulling you up on tiptoes as he snarls, venting to stir your hair. “Because you’re mine,” he growls and he jerks you into his frame, hands almost bruising on you. You go still as you feel something nudge your hip and realize he’s freed his spike. That he’s pissed and horny. Had thought he’d hated you and he definitely looks mad right now. But he’s also turned on.

• Your eyes widen and he’s caught between need and self loathing for wanting this. Wanting you. A weak, little human. One of the creatures who’d cost him everything. And your eyes drop, avoiding his optics. But those hands slide down his chassis. Soft fingers hesitantly touching his spike. Can feel you trembling slightly as you slide a thumb over the head of his spike.

• Between horny and pissed, you’ll definitely take horny. Maybe if he gets some, he’ll calm down some. And it’s not like you haven’t been checking out his body or that his deep snarling voice doesn’t string you tight. Because something’s definitely wrong with you for wanting him when he’s a jerk to you. Hear him snarl right before he’s spinning you and bearing you down onto your hands and knees and settling behind you. Feel that spike nudge your inner thigh before he finds and stretches you.

• You’re tighter than he’d imagined, wet and silken inside as he drives deep. And you whimper when he grips your hips, rutting against you and pulling you back to meet his thrusts. That loathing for you and himself spinning him tight when you moan his name. Can’t stop, hips pumping urgently, chasing an overload. Needing to fill you, replace the scent of the seeker clinging to you with his own. To claim what’s his even as he resents this need.

[v00do-d0ll]

Do you ever wake up scared from a nightmare where something has happened to your parent(s), and you get an inexplicable need to make sure they are alive. Cuz I was thinking about that with Damien and Bruce.

Like Damien waking up with a gasp because he just dreamt that Bruce died in a brutal way right in front of him; and you know how in your dreams you can’t move as fast as you want to, that happeneds to him and he was stuck there forced to watch his father die in front of him.

And it takes him a moment to realize what happened but he eventually recognizes it was a dream. He knows the manor is safe and that no one could get in without anyone knowing. He knows that Bruce is fine…

But he has to go make sure, because what if that dream was his brain trying to tell him something. What if Bruce stopped breathing in the night and nobody knows. What if he’s had a stroke or a seizure… yea it’s better to just go check. A quick glance to make sure he’s okay.

So he goes to Bruce’s room determined to not get caught. Just in and out and he’ll go back to bed.

But Bruce has always been a light sleeper, and is always aware of his surroundings even in his sleep. He wakes up after hearing the floor creak ready to attack, grabbing the batarang that he keeps under his mattress ready to strike only to stop once he see’s Damien.

“Dami? What happened? Is something wrong?”

Damien just kinda stands there shocked at how quick Bruce went from Batman to Bruce so quickly.

“Nothing is wrong father, I’m sorry for disturbing you. I will go back to bed.”

Damien turns to leave only for Bruce to stop him. “Damien” Bruce calls out softly “Would you like to sleep in here with me tonight?” he says, with a fond look on his face.

Damien silently contemplates Bruce’s offer, not wanting to look weak in front of Bruce but wanting to stay.

Bruce can see the turmoil on his sons face, so he just scoots over on the bed and lifts the blanket. Not saying anything to rush Damien but letting him know he wants him there.

At his father’s actions, Damien silently crawls into Bruce’s bed. Bruce covers them both, letting Damien have his space.

Wanting to know what happened to make his son want comfort, but not wanting to push. But he can see that something is wrong.

“Dami” Bruce calls out. “Are you okay?”

“Of course father, why would you believe otherwise.” Damien says not looking at Bruce.

Bruce throws a look his way that Damien doesn’t see. “You don’t normally come in my room at night.”

Damien doesn’t say anything for a while but Bruce can see he’s hesitant about something. So he just gives him time, just watching the different emotions pass on Damien’s face.

After a while Damien finally says “I had a nightmare.” And Bruce…, Bruce is familiar with those, he’s had them since his parents died. He knows what they can do to a person because he’s the living proof.

“Do you want to tell me what happened in your dream?”

Damien takes a long pause, so long that Bruce thinks that he’s not going to respond, but he eventually whispers…

“I had a dream that you died… and I had to watch as you were brutally murdered in front of me, and I couldn’t do anything about it.”

There was a tense silence in the air after Damien spoke. Scared he just shouldn’t have spoken at all, but before he could make any type of move, Bruce turned and pulled Damien into his arms.

Damien stiffens at his father’s movements, not use to embracing like this with Bruce. “I’m sorry you had a nightmare, but I’m happy you came to me when you wanted to.” Bruce says as he rubs Damien’s back.

Damien goes slack in Bruce’s arm at his ministrations. In a small voice, spoken into Bruce’s chest Damien says. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I’m sorry I woke you up baba.”

“It’s okay Dami, you can always wake me up.” Bruce pauses for a moment before continuing. “I use to get those nightmares all the time when I was younger. I still get them from time to time.”

Damien looks up a little at Bruce’s words

“I would also crawl into Alfred’s bed when I had them. Most of the time they were about my parents, but a lot of them were about Alfred dying. So I would go check on him while he slept as well .”

Damien’s face looks shocked at what Bruce just told him. Not expecting Bruce to admit that he use to crawl into Alfred’s bed. But it makes him feel better knowing that Bruce understands his feelings.

Damien looks back down to hide in Bruce’s chest but also to discreetly listen to his heartbeat. Just to add that last bit of reassurance that Bruce was okay.

And that’s how they fall asleep, Damien feeling protected in his father’s embrace. Bruce stroking his son’s hair to lull him back to unconsciousness.

Both boys hearts soothed with Damien having learned something new about his father, and Bruce having physical proof that even though their relationship started out rocky, Damien cares deeply for Bruce.

[urcoolgf]

WHAT’S YOUR DEAL? PT. 8

pairing. childhood bsf¡rafe && childhood bsf¡reader

content. fluff. language.

summary. after your dad’s ‘family plans’ are over, you can no longer put off talking to enzo about what happened between you and rafe, and where you’ll go from here

SERIES MASTERLIST

your dad had taken rafe, sarah, wheezie, and you on a little fishing trip yesterday—he had always loved fishing, so you were happy to do this for him. you had to throw back everything you caught, but your dad was just happy to hang out with you guys, doing something he found fun.

rafe and you agreed it was best to keep your little relationship quiet just to keep the dynamic chill for the boating yesterday—but that didn’t stop rafe from sneaking little kisses when no one was looking.

but, now that you were back, you couldn’t ignore enzo any longer. you hated yourself for what you had to tell him later today, but it wasn’t fair to lead him on any longer. he was an amazing guy, and he deserved someone who was 100% in.

y/n: hey! i’m back from our fishing trip, wanna meet up in like an hour?

enzo: Sounds good :) meet at our restaurant?

y/n: see you then

—

you were nervous… to say the least.

enzo was an amazing guy, and you felt shitty for blowing him off, but it was pointless when he would never be rafe. he wasn’t there for you in the most trivial points in your life—he wasn’t there when your first boyfriend broke up with you, or when your mom died. he would never know you how rafe knew you, and somehow that doomed you guys from the start.

you made sure to get there early because showing up late and dumping him seemed like salt in the wound… he quickly found you sat at a table, the smile that spread across his face once he saw you made your heart ache.

you were such an asshole.

“hey, pretty girl… i missed you,” he greeted you warmly, giving you a side hug before sitting across from you.

again; such. an. asshole.

“so… what’s new? how was your fishing trip? you catch anything?,” he was so nice, and he was killing you.

“my dad and rafe caught a few. we threw everything back though,” you smiled uncomfortably. you spoke low like you felt guilty for talking about yourself—for talking about rafe—knowing what you were about to do.

“everything alright?,” the concern on his face was so genuine, and you really didn’t want to say what you had to say.

“enzo… listen, i really like you… like a lot. you’re an amazing guy–,” you started, looking him in the eye. it was harder that way, which is why it needed to be like that. his eyes were gentle—understanding—like he already knew what was coming.

“but…,” he drew it out like he already knew where this was going. “you’re in love with rafe… right?,” he said it softly, with a small smile.

“wha– how did you–?”

“i saw the way he looked at you on the beach… i figured you couldn’t ignore it forever,” he didn’t even look mad—upset, sure—but that little genuine smile stayed plastered to his face.

“you’re not mad?,” you questioned, almost in disbelief—like how he was reacting was too good to be true.

“upset? sure. mad? never,” his smile widened just a bit as he moved to hold your hand—not in a way that was begging you to stay, more as a comfort. you didn’t pull away—didn’t flinch—just let him do it.

“i would never be mad at you for falling in love, y/n… i know it happens when you least expect it,” he nodded his head slightly, like he wasn’t just trying to convince you, but convince himself, too.

“thanks, enzo. hey, it would mean a lot to me if we could stay friends? that might be a big ask, but–,” he didn’t even let you finish, cutting you off with a loving look in his eyes.

“of course,” you couldn’t tell if he genuinely wanted that, or not, but you chose to believe he did—chose to believe it didn’t bother him.

"rafe better know how lucky he is… and if he ever tries to break your heart—i’m here– like in a ‘i-would-set-him-straight’ way. i think you guys are gonna go far, honestly. seems like he’s got a lot of love for ya,” you felt stupid for even being worried… enzo was already a gentleman, of course he was going to take this splendidly.

“i really appreciate it. seriously, i was all worried coming into this. i know it’s not like we were exclusive, or like ‘til-death-do-us-part’ type, but you mean a lot to me,” it was true. you hadn’t met that long ago, but you had gotten close, and you never wanted to hurt him.

“you mean a lot to me too, y/n. don’t worry about me,” he gave your hand a gentle squeeze before retracting his hand. “i’ll see you around then?”

“yeah, see ya around,” you gave him one last smile before he stood from his seat, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the lingering warmth of his hand on yours.

—

you walked back into the house, attempting to find rafe and tell him how it went, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found… well, until you took two steps outside, and found him sitting in one of the lounge chairs by the pool.

“hey,” you said, flopping into the empty chair next to him. he turned his head to see you, squinting to keep the sun out of his eyes.

“oh, hey baby,” it rolled off his tongue so naturally, like he was made to call you that—made to be yours. you tried hard to ignore the way sweat glistened over his abs, and his swim shorts hung just low enough for your mind to run wild. “how’d it go?”

“good… actually,” you still looked a little puzzled from your interaction with enzo, and rafe noticed it immediately. he also noticed the way you were looking at him, but he wasn’t one to complain.

he quickly noticed your outfit—kind of nice considering you went to break it off with this dude. he minded a bit, but once his eyes raked down your body, enzo didn’t seem that important anymore. you were his. you had just broken up with a supposedly ‘perfect guy’—whatever—from him. he was on top of the world right now, but that didn’t stop him from addressing your tone and slight confusion.

“what d’ya mean actually? somethin’ happen?,” he sat up a bit, propping himself on his elbows, looking at you more directly since he thought he was going to have to beat this man.

“no. he was– he was surprisingly chill…,” well, shit. that was actually more worrying to rafe.

“really?,” he almost scoffed like he didn’t believe it—like he thought enzo might be playing at something. he rested his head back against the chair, turning straightforward and closing his eyes again.

“yeah, i don’t know… it wasn’t even weird. he said it was fine—that he knew you were in love with me,” that caught his attention.

“he knew?!,” he laughed—a dry, humorless laugh. “yeah, right.”

"well, either way… that’s over. i feel better,” you relaxed, laying back against the chair, mimicking rafe. you enjoyed the sun, and the silence… for a whole three seconds.

you sat back up, turning completely toward rafe ”that was like shockingly easy… right?,” you weren’t sure why you wanted it to be harder, or more painful, but the fact it wasn’t was almost just as worrying. you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

"don’t worry about it baby. it’s done,” rafe responded, not even turning toward you, knowing damn well he was just as concerned as you. it still left him wondering; what was enzo up to? surely he wasn’t just going to let you go that easy…? or, maybe rafe was just being insane, and you were being paranoid.

it didn’t matter. it was bothering you, which meant it was bothering rafe, and he was going to take care of it—take care of you. no matter what.

an: ooh this is short. . . i’m SO sorry it took this long to get another part out. i was struggling so hard with how this ‘chapter’ was gonna go. i’m probably gonna wrap this up soon because i’m running out of ideas :’)

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