#so like. what exactly is 'hating you for being a man' to you then my guy? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tiredofthehumanlife · 18 hours ago

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Is he mine? Fucking obviously.

also btw I color code my titles I don't pick them like this for the aesthetics of it

Barbie dolls: Touya Todoroki x gn! reader

Word: 6.5k

Summary: Touya almost died on national television and disappears from from the public's eyes with no way to contact him you decide to keep your pregnancy a secret from him

Warning: You get pregnant! idc of its m!preg or abo or magic or just bareback fucking that got you there I'm just telling you you got pregnant, you keep the baby btw, your son is named Kaito (which according to name berry means sea so there), your son refers to you by Ren and Rena which is a gender neutral term for parent it's like mom and dad essentially, you fuck dabi at one point it's not smut it's just mentioned, Touya goes to rehab and so if he's ooc then it's rehabs fault not mine, I am kidding but he is definitely not exactly dabi core dykwim, you grieve Touya even tho technically he's alive it'll make sense when you read it but you cry a couple times just fyi, idk man, mentioned once that you wanted children before w Touya, 'crotch goblin' used I j feel like that's some shit dabi would say but I digress, Elmo reference tell me if you find it, possible allusions to Kaito being autistic but like boo fucking hoo idk, mention of blunts, SIDs mentioned once, also mentioned that you may or may not have anxiety especially over your son, yeah okay lmk if you any blue words I didn't do that on purpose

Before the war, you knew Dabi. You knew Touya, as well. When he was watching over you from the shadows during the day, he was Dabi. When he was buried in your arms hiding under your sheets, he was Touya. You kept him close to you, there wasn’t another way you’d like to live. You hated to say it but you needed his eyes and hands on you. You didn’t care what he did during the day or even at night as long as he wandered back to you through your door. You didn’t care if you both sat on the couch and stared at the TV or if you ripped his clothes off with greedy hands, as long as you could feel the abnormal heat of his body on yours. Maybe that made you morally questionable, you didn’t care. You knew who you were and you knew who he was. You knew your lungs would collapse if you couldn’t see those blue eyes again.

After the war that all changed. Watching your lover almost kill himself on live television made you feel sick to your stomach. You had to leave the building entirely, only to find it broadcasted all over the screens of passersby’s phones, billboards, and the small television behind the counter of every convenience store. You hid under your sheets, hoping when you woke up they would smell like him because he was lying next to you.

You heard of his whereabouts through coworkers' gossip, news articles, and murmurs from the public. None of whom knew you had kissed him goodbye the morning before, having no idea what was to come. You read every article you saw. You eavesdropped on every conversation. You bought every magazine that even slightly mentioned the Todoroki family. You knew the only way you’d know if he was okay was through the third-person retelling by a reporter.

He was in severe recovery. He was in one piece, technically. His father was paying for his bills. He was likely to be alright.

Really that’s all you needed, yet somehow it still wasn’t enough. You needed to see him and hold him. You wondered if he was eating solids or if he was on a tube. You wondered if he needed you to add another row of staples. You hated when he asked that of you, you couldn’t turn him down when he looked up at you with his pleading eyes. It made you feel sick to your stomach but you were the only one, besides himself, he trusted to do it. What you would give up now to groan and complain about having to replace his staples.

Slowly as time pulled along, Touya made the news less and less. You took fewer magazines from their rack, his face didn’t make it to the television, and you felt his image slipping away from you.

Your sheet smelled more like you than they did him. His clothes had been through the wash multiple times now. You kept tossing them into the dirty hamper straight from the dryer because you couldn’t bear to throw them away or hide them in a closet. Your stack of newspapers and magazines stayed stacked at the corner of your desk. You cried when you had to sweep up the dirt from his boots by the front door. Then you cried for crying over that.

You felt pathetic the way you started to hate him for all this. You wanted to slap him and jab your finger in his face. You wanted to call him a selfish bastard. You cried in your kitchen when you realized you accidentally bought his favorite foods as second nature. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that he had just slipped from your life like that.

He was alive, yes but alive in the same way a relative across the world was. You knew they were out there but it’d be a cold day in hell before they were in your living room.

You slowly pieced yourself back together. His clothes were folded and put away on the shelf of your closet. You stopped looking at them when you started to get ready for the day as time went on. You stopped buying his food. You threw out most of the newspapers, only keeping the pages that really mattered. You folded them all up and shoved them into a drawer in your desk. You stop seeing him everywhere in your home. You stopped seeing him in your mind.

Just as you were getting back on your feet, the world played a sick trick on you. You found out you were pregnant. After some thinking and a lot of it, you made your decision. You were keeping it. Yes sure it came out of nowhere. Yes sure your baby would be raised in a single-parent household. You always wanted this. You thought of asking Touya about it sometimes but you always chickened out. Now you wouldn’t be doing it with Touya, but you could have the life you wanted. A child. You were ready, you felt it in your bones.

You had the baby. For months before the due date, you had scoured for name ideas. You wrote down names you heard over conversations in cafes. You read every article. You considered naming your baby after Touya. You scratched that idea after realizing you’d like to have his consent for that. You thought of him on your couch over seven months ago. He would’ve said ‘Hell no. Don’t name one of those crotch goblins after me.’ You bought books on the very subject. You slapped post-it notes to your fridge when you found one you liked. Yet all that came crashing down when you finally had your baby in your arms.

You were fucking worn out. Your hands felt like they were going to cramp from all the squeezing you did to the handrails and your poor nurse. Your hair was sticking to your face. You felt like you stinked. Your lungs felt heavy and your ribs felt tight. With your little ‘crotch goblin’ in your arms you felt a smile grow on your face.

His face was scrunched up in a cry, a tiny fist pressed against his cheek. You gently rubbed the side of his face with your finger, trying to calm him down. His cry settled as he pushed his face toward you. You whispered a hello. You were fully encapsulated by him, your son, you paid no attention to the doctor still between your legs. Your baby let out a coo as he opened his eyes, staring up at you.

You knew babies could really see at this age, he was probably just looking in the direction of your voice. Whether or not he could see you had no effect on the color of his eyes. You knew them. They were the same ones who would stare at you from across your room as you got ready for bed. The same ones that would plead you for new staples. The same ones that sat across from you during dinner. The same ones that reminded you of the cold and freezing sea.

“Kaito.” You muttered, earning a coo from him. You nodded. “Yeah? Do you like that name?” he huffed and pushed his nose towards your arm. You hummed. “Kaito it is, then.”

A year and a half went by before you ever heard from Touya again. You were doing some cleaning while Kaito was at daycare, hurrying so you could still have time for relaxation before you had to go pick him up.

You loved him dearly but a toddler was a lot to handle. Especially alone. You found a daycare nearby that you trusted, and your mental health picked up drastically. A few hours of silence on the weekends and time to work from home without a toddler trying to lick a socket was all that you seemed to need to feel whole. As you were throwing his toys back into the large basket on the other side of the living room, you heard a knock. You paused before throwing the toy truck. You moved to the front door, peeking through the peep hole.

A woman with white hair and streaks of red, glasses, and a blue sweater was waiting at your door. You pulled away from the door, unlocking it and swinging it open. She smiled at you once she saw you.

“Hi, can I help you?” You asked, smiling but feeling terribly awkward about the whole thing. She nodded.

“Hi, I’m Fuyumi. My brother, Touya, was finally released from his mess of operations and hospitals. And he-“ Your smile fell when you finally registered the name. Yes, you heard it but you just didn’t think you’d ever hear that name again. It had just floated over your head. You realize this was his sister standing in front of you. You closed the door so you were squeezed between it and the frame, smiling like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. You couldn’t let her see the tiny rain boots, light-up sneakers, and brightly colored toys on your floor. Fuyumi glanced at you over the frame of her glasses, a slightly confused look passing over her face before she schooled it. She pulled her bag from her shoulder, rummaging her hand through it.

“-is finally in rehab. They’re letting him have pencils now after strings being pulled by our father. Anyway, he-um- gave me these letters. He told me I needed to find you. He said he wouldn’t trust anyone else to give these to you. He considered our mom, but he said-“

“Letters?” You repeated, watching her hands as they dug through her bag. She nodded, looking up at you for a brief second.

“Yes. here they are, finally.” She pulled a stack of three letters from her bag, sticking them out to you. You quickly took them from her, taking the top one. You shoved the other two into your back pocket, tearing open the envelope. You yanked the folded paper from the envelope, unfolding it as fast as possible. You skimmed over the words, trying to move your eyes along the lines faster than you could.

‘Love -don’t care- I haven’t stopped thinking of you- wish you could come to see me-I need to see home- your bed- do you think of me-I’m not sure how much longer-I can’t add you to my visitation-I miss you.’ You paused, staring at his signature at the bottom. ‘Yours, Touya’ was simple but he didn’t talk of his feelings. Ever.

You were lucky if you found out he liked dinner. You traced over his name with the tip of your finger. You stopped, looking up at the woman in front of you. She was watching you intently like every move was being cataloged. You slowly straightened your shoulders up and pushed the letter back into the envelope like you didn’t care at all. You put the envelope with the other two in your pocket, pretending you weren’t itching to read the other two. You cleared your throat, staring at Fuyumi like a child caught misbehaving.

“He tried to get your name on the visitation list but they wouldn’t allow it. You had to be family.” Fuyumi said, giving you a soft smile. You nodded, feeling Kaito’s finger painting on the fridge staring holes into the side of your face.

“Might’ve been for the best. I don’t know I’m really the same person he…liked before.” You said, squeezing the door a little closer to you. Fuyumi shook her head.

“I’m not sure if that’s true. He’s told our entire family about you. I don’t think the change would keep him from you. However, I don’t really know you, do I?” Fuyumi said, clasping her hands together in front of her. You nodded. It’s a bit weird knowing that she had a nephew a few blocks away and she didn’t even know if you and her brother were really dating at all. Well, you weren’t now but were you ever? You snorted and shrugged.

“It’s a lot of change.” You said, watching her closely. She hummed, pulling her bag closer too pher.

“Well I have to go, I have lunch with Shoto soon. Just, think of sending him back a letter. I think it would be good for him to hear from you.” Fuyumi said before walking away from your door and heading for the sidewalk. You watched her go for a moment, feeling stuck in your place. You felt like you were watching Touya walking away again. You sighed before going back inside to finish reading the letters.

You read the letters over and over again for a month. You read them so much you didn’t need to see the paper to think through his words. You spent your free time staring at the handwriting. You dissected the word choice, punctuation, and tone. You need to know every thought that went through his head. Kaito asked you what they were, in the words and format of a 1 ½-year-old would. You redirected him to his toys and started reading them only at night when you were alone in your room. You sat up in bed most nights, staring at his clothes on the shelf of your closet and picking at your nails.

You thought through your two options.

You could break his heart and tell him you couldn’t be with him. You had changed, you were someone new. You couldn’t see a future. You moved on. You had a new partner, one that didn’t have their face on the news. Whatever it would take to get him to move on. He needed someone else, someone not like you. Someone without a kid.

Your second option was to tell him. Everything. He had already been through what a year or so of medical operations? That’s what Fuyumi said, wasn’t it? Now he was stuck in rehab, they just gave him access to pencils. He was slowly rebuilding himself. He was obviously making progress in the right direction, communicating. That was a big word for Touya. It was over paper but still. He used the word love eight times in those letters. Kaito would have to get adjusted to his family growing up. Change is hard for young children. Change is hard for you. You‘d be forcing this responsibility onto Touya. He’d either support Kaito or not. Either way, he’d have that thought in the back of his mind. Touya was barely standing on his own two feet right now. Most likely figuratively and literally. You couldn’t add a new stressor to his life. He’d throw a table or something and get his pencil rights taken away again.

You made the mature decision to break his heart instead. You wrote it out carefully and edited it. You made sure it came off the right way. You sealed the envelope and addressed it using the information from the back of his letters. Maybe it wasn’t something that would make you liked by any of the Todoroki family, but it was better for them. You knew it. You told him it was the change. You had changed too much. You listed all the ways you weren’t the person he thought you were anymore. Of course, you jumped over the child-sized elephant in the room.

You couldn’t bear to think of him crying over your letter. You wondered if his tears were still bloody. Most likely, that didn’t seem like something that was healable. You ignored the ache in your heart, pulling your son closer to you in a tight hug. You couldn’t think of Touya stuck in a sterile rehabilitation center. You couldn’t think of him reading your letter more than once. You couldn’t think of Touya at all, so you focused on Kaito instead.

You didn’t get a letter back. You didn’t get any of his siblings at your door. Instead, you took Kaito to daycare, worked, took Kaito home, and went to bed ready to repeat. You and Kaito went on little adventures on the weekends, going to the park, play dates, swimming lessons, zoos, and museums. You couldn’t love your son and life more.

He was getting bigger. He was developing his own personality now, such a sweet boy he gave you cavities. Kaito was so bright. He was the smartest kid you knew and you weren’t biased at all in saying that. He was so beautiful and tiny. You wanted to wrap him up in a blanket and keep him in your pocket forever. Some days he would run through the living room like a plane and all you could remember was when he fit in the crook of your arm. He was so curious he asked you about the world every day. Some days he came home from daycare with a fun fact you never knew.

The day he manifested his quirk was on the weekend in the backyard. You were on the back porch, watching him run back and forth through the oscillating sprinkler. You sipped your tea slowly, easing your anxiety about him slipping.

Kaito flung his hero doll through the water. It thunked in the grass, face first. Kaito yelled that he was coming to save the hero. He pressed his wrists together, jutting his hands out like a stream of power would rush through them. He jumped up, pushing his hands out again and giving himself a sound effect.

As he passed through the water you saw sparks and flames envelop his hands and fly straight to the ground toasting the ground next to his doll to ash. Kaito landed in the burnt grass, freezing and staring down at his hands. You jolted up onto your feet, setting your tea down and rushing towards him.

Kaito slowly turned around towards you, a scared look on his face. You scooped him up, wrapping him in a hug. Kaito pressed his nose into your shoulder, holding onto your neck tightly. It’s a bit scary to see fire shoot out of your hands as a three-year-old. You stared at the ring of burnt grass, thinking back on the fire around his fingertips.

It wasn’t blue like his father’s, it was red like a campfire. A part of you was happy, he wouldn’t have to struggle to control a quirk as hot as his father’s. Another part of you was sad, you kinda liked the idea of your son growing up to be a hero and showing the world his blue flame was still hero material. Maybe Touya could find it out that way. You didn’t even know if Kaito wanted to be a hero. Maybe he’d do something simple. A third part was scared, fire is easily destructive. Kaito was new to it, he didn’t know how to control it. Your house could be in ashes in days.

Touya would’ve been worried if he had been on the porch with you. Hellfire, like his father. Like the father he tried so hard to destroy and landed himself in the hospital and rehab. What made his father like that? A father like Enji fathering Enji? That’s how it works isn’t it, like passing sand from hands to hands, the trauma follows you in a terrible circle.

Well, your son would have less sand, he’d love who he is. You pulled Kaito away from your neck, leaning your head back to get a full look at his face. His eyes were glistening and he was pressing his fist to his cheek. The image of him as a newborn in your arms passed over you. You wiped at the tears on his cheeks, kissing them afterward.

“You got your quirk, Kaito. Isn’t that so exciting?” You said, smiling widely to settle his anxiety. Kaito pulled his hands from his face, looking at you confused. You bounced him on your hip and started spinning around, squealing about his quirk. You rested your hands on his back, dipping him down so he hung upside down just a little. You passed his head through the sprinkler, making him laugh loudly. You pulled him back up, dancing away from the sprinkler and the burnt grass. Kaito shook his wet white mop of hair out, drizzling you with water.

Two and half years pass before Kaito starts school. He’s settled into the routine. He knows the time you give him breakfast, the time he gets dressed, the time he brushes his teeth, and the time you leave. Kaito would rather burn all his toys than be late for school. He’s made plenty of friends there. He’s already been invited to two birthday parties in the few months he’s been there. You wonder if daycare was that beneficial to him.

Kaito walks his clean plate to the sink, standing on his tiptoes to gently set it in the bottom. You praise him before finishing your own. Kaito heads towards his room, ignoring your words entirely. Every morning he was on a mission to get to school at exactly the right time. Once he tried to get you to force him to go to school while he was sick. He whined about his perfect attendance before you told him he could watch TV. He dropped the subject after that. A knock sounds at your door. You look over your shoulder before concluding it was the mail. Sometimes they needed your signature.

“Kaito, you better not forget your jacket! It's cold out!” You shouted so he could hear you through his door. You stared at his face peeking through his door as you swung open the front door. You pointed at him sternly, earning an eye roll. Damn you, Touya. You turned to face the mailman, face falling at the man in front of you.

His hair had grown out and the dye had long been gone. Touya’s scars looked… healthier. Healed a little, paler and a little more moisturized. His staples were removed. You assumed they had been replaced with stitches that had healed over a million moons ago. Half his piercings were gone, a stud in his nose and two in each ear were all that he had left. Or at least was wearing today. His clothes were more put together, relaxed but not in the scrambled way they were a few years ago. Touya stood bolder now like he found something inside himself during rehab that made his chest puff out. His eyes were all the same. You thought if you ever saw him again, you'd only see Kaito in his eyes. You only saw Touya.

“I finished rehab.” Touya finally said. Your silence stood in the air, like a confession of everything. You realized he could see into your home, slowly moving towards the door frame and holding the door tightly against you. Touya watched you with a look you'd only seen once before. In the middle of the night in your dimly lit living room, a movie in the background as the two of you kissed for the first time without sexual intent behind it.

“Evidently. You look good by the way, rounded, healthy. Um, what exactly are you doing here, though?” You asked, leaning back inside to look at the clock. Three minutes before Kaito left his room. Five if he was having wardrobe malfunctions. You leaned forward again, pretending you weren't on a time crunch.

“I know you sent me a letter. I know you said you didn't think I'd still care for you because you've changed so much but I think it's pretty obvious I've changed too. I just wanted to ask if you could give us a second shot we could try again as the new versions of ourselves. Every day I was in there I've been thinking about you. I haven't been able to-” You leaned back again, one minute, three with malfunctions. You put your attention back on Touya, nodding to signify him to continue. He paused, pulling his hand from his coat pocket. “-Am I interrupting something?” He asked.

You froze, dragging your eyes away from the clock. You met Touya's eyes, staring at him with wide eyes. You weren't getting out of this, you wouldn't be able to. You sighed, pinching your brow.

“No, I'm sorry Touya. It's very sweet and genuine of you to ask this but I really think there's just a big-” you waved your hands between the two of you. “-hurdle between us that we'd have to get through. I just think you should find someone else to love and cherish or whatever it is people say.” You threw your hands down, looking at his face again. He looked cold, he looked like the man who would show up at your door almost six years ago with blood staining his clothes. Touya shook his head, a new look meeting his features. He furrowed his brows. He stared at the step in front of him.

“I just don't understand. I feel like this came out of nowhere before the letters, everything was fine, and then all of a sudden you were too different-” Touya said. Your heart dropped to your stomach when you heard Kaito’s door open.

“Rena! Can you help me button my pants? The button is hard.” You could hear the pout in Kaito's voice. It reached Touya’s ears. You know it did. He froze, eyes glued to the ground. You didn’t bother trying to hide the wreck of a child’s home behind you anymore. The cat was out of the bag. You kicked the front door back, revealing all the toys and children’s books thrown across your living room. Kaito ran up to you, holding his pants up with both hands. You squatted down, pulling his pants together. As you slipped the button through the hole, Kaito greeted Touya.

“Hi! I’m Kaito. Do you have a quirk?” Ever the extrovert, Kaito wanted to be friends with everyone he met. You zipped Kaito’s pants up. You turned back, pulling his sneakers from the shoe rack. You might as well while you’re already on the floor. You glanced up at Touya to see him staring open-mouthed at Kaito. Kaito was unaccustomed with this reaction, gripping onto your shoulder.

“Touya. My son asked you a question.” You said, pulling Touya from the depths of his mind. Touya dropped down to his knees, getting on eye level with Kaito. You pulled Kaito’s sneakers on, tying the laces and pulling over the Velcro strap. Usually, he put his own shoes on but with the new friend, you thought you should do it.

“Hi. My name is Touya. Yes, I do have a quirk.” Touya responded slowly. Kaito was his, there was no way Touya hadn't realized that. It wasn’t frequent that you ran into someone with those eyes, that hair, and that smile.

You looked at Touya as you pulled Kaito’s other shoe on. Touya moved his focus from Kaito to you. His mouth was still a little agape, staring at Kaito with eyes that only you could understand. Kaito squealed, he loved showing off his quirk. You pulled back, leaning away from him, watching his hands. A whoosh came with the balls of fire enveloping his hands. Sparks flew around the edges. He grinned down at his ablaze hands like a crazy person. You smiled at his excitement, looking over to Touya. He stared at Kaito’s hands, face unreadable.

“Okay, Kaito. That’s enough. No quirk in the house, you know that.” You said, wafting his hands with air. It never put the flame out but it made Kaito laugh. He put his fire down, a few disgruntled sparks flying after. After an unfortunate incident involving your arm and his quirk, you both learned that Kaito needed a few minutes to cool off before he touched something again. The scar was still on your upper arm, a tiny handprint the size of a three-year-old. You didn’t mind it as much as you thought it would. It only reminded you of your son.

“Hands up.” Kaito held his arms above his head as you pulled on his laces. You looked at Touya as you tied them. Touya leaned forward and held his hand up, all fingers down except for his pinkie. Almost like a pinkie promise. You and Kaito both stared at his hand as his pinkie caught aflame. It looked like a little blue birthday candle. Kaito’s eyes lit up like his hands, a giant grin pulling at his cherub cheeks.

”Woah! Do you have fire too? It’s blue! That’s so cool!” Kaito said, his little hand reaching out for Touya’s. Touya and you both moved faster than light. Touya shot his hand away, the fire extinguishing, and his arm held far away from curious hands. You pushed Kaito’s hand away, sending it back to his side. Kaito looked confused, facing you.

“His fire is very very hot, Kaito. It’ll hurt if you touch it.” You explained, pulling the Velcro strap of his shoe over the top of his foot. Kaito hummed, fiddling with his hands over his stomach. You stood up, Touya following. Kaito looked over your shoulder at the clock and then down at the graph you had under it with a picture of the hands and what step in your routine it meant. Kaito gasped, rushing away from you for his bedroom. You smiled awkwardly towards Touya.

“Is he mine?” Touya whispered, his tone unsure if he was ready for the answer. You watched Kaito pull his jacket on before slinging his backpack on. His coat was just a little too big for him. It kissed the tips of his knees and every time you saw it you thought of Touya and his jacket hanging on your coat rack.

“Yeah, he's yours.” you wanted it to come out with strong conviction.

‘Yes, Touya he's yours what are you going to do about it.’

‘No Touya he's mine but he's genetically related to you, yes.’

‘What do you want from this information, Touya'?

‘Get off my property Touya. Kaito isn't your problem’

All those months you spent planning how you'd beat him to pulp when you finally saw him again fell apart the second you looked into his eyes. Maybe that was Kaito's effect on you or maybe it was just the effect Touya always had on you.

Touya nodded like he was accepting his fate, watching Kaito run up to you with your shoes. Usually, you didn't have your baby daddy standing on your front porch and you could get your own shoes. You pulled your shoes on quickly, keeping an eye on Kaito as he ran out the door towards the car.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Touya asked, following after you as you locked your door and joined Kaito at the side of the car.

“Not right now, I have to get Kaito to school so he can keep his perfect attendance.” You said, reaching over to pinch Kaito's cheek. He groaned and pushed you away, throwing his backpack into the backseat. Kaito pulled himself into his booster seat and buckled his seatbelt. You smiled at him, pecking his cheek and muttering praises to him.

Touya stood behind you, watching the whole ordeal and wishing he hadn't lost the first five years of his son's life. He didn't get to watch Kaito grow from a carrier that locked into the base to a car seat with a back to a booster seat. He didn't even know Kaito's favorite color. He didn't know anything about him. So with all that stirring in his mind, he whispered the one full sentence he could piece together.

“Can I come too?” You pulled away from Kaito, looking back at Touya. He looked scolded. His shoulders were slumped and he was clasping his hands together at his stomach. He stared at you with wide eyes. You remembered when you grounded Kaito for trying to sneak out of the house at night. He wanted to go to the park, you had to explain that the park was something you visited during the day. He was sad at being grounded.

“Yes! Rena, can he come? He can tell me at his fire! And his scars, they're so cool!” Kaito kicked his feet, thumping them against the back of the passenger seat. Your heart stalled at the mention of Touya's scars.

“Kaito. Don't say-” you scolded only to pause when a warm hand rested on your shoulder. You had forgotten how warm Touya was. You missed not needing to pull your space heater from storage. You stared at Touya, eyes wild with concern. He shook his head, lips pressed in a tight line.

“It's fine.” He muttered. You looked back over to Kaito who looked more than joyous to bring his new friend to school. You sighed, shrugging and moving for the front seat.

“Get in.” You said, sliding into the driver's side. Touya quickly shut Kaito's door and slid in on the other side of the back seat.

The entire drive you felt strange. You didn't like having your back to their interaction. A part of you worried Touya was teaching Kaito how to roll a blunt. Or maybe how to set your fire in your sleep. Maybe he was still bitter from the letter and all this was an act.

The moment Kaito laughed so hard he started wheezing you took back all the negative thoughts you had about Touya. Kaito leaned over into Touya's lap, patting his leg as he wheezed. Touya chuckled with him, a relaxed smile on his face. He gently patted Kaito's back, turning his pat into a rub. Kaito sucked in a gasp of air before it quickly danced behind his teeth and transformed into another laugh. Touya panicked, a new worry that he was doing this all wrong, already turning into his father. His eyes shot to yours in the rearview mirror. You didn't catch them, focused on the road. He saw your smile and small laugh and felt his shoulders relax.

Kaito had a hard time saying goodbye to his new friend in the school parking lot. Kaito complained and quickly latched onto Touya's arm, pressing his cheek into his scarred flesh. Touya patted his mop of white hair and wished him a good day. Kaito seemed to accept that, launching himself into the front seat to hug you goodbye with his arms around your neck. Kaito glanced over at the clock on the screen in the center of the dashboard. He muttered something and rushed out of the car, jogging towards the crosswalk. You and Touya watched as he was walked to the door by one of his teachers.

You both sat in silence and stare at the door even after Kaito is long gone. Touya left the back seat and plopped himself into the passenger side next to you. You wanted to pull yourself out of your head and face him, but your eyes were glued to the door.

It's been a long time since he was a baby. The first few months were hell on Earth. Everything sent you into an anxious spiral, his breaths were one second too long apart. You worried he was getting too much tummy time. You worried he wasn't getting enough tummy time. You worried about his diet. You worried about the sound of his cries. You worried about his number of cries. You worried about the cradle cap. You worried about SIDs. You worried sick over your son.

To make matters worse, you worried sick over his father. The first year and then some you wracked your brain thinking about him. Where was he? What was he doing? How was he feeling? What state was his body in? Could he still feel? What was he feeling about you? Had he already moved on, found a cute doctor, or something? Was he too far gone and close to death that he didn't even have the time to consider things like that? Why hadn't he said something to you yet? Would he even like you still? Would he even like your son? Would he even want to know if he has a son or would ignorance be bliss for him?

“He is so…” Touya's voice fell like he wasn't sure the word to choose. You knew how the man from five years ago would respond.

By the time you had finally settled your anxieties over your son's father, Kaito taking up all your capacity for worries, his letter arrived at your door.

You stared at the door to his school, the brightly painted sidewalk making you feel warm. Touya was next to you now, staring at the same school. You knew where he was, what he looked like, the state of his body, his thoughts on you, and what he was doing. You could hear his breathing in your silent car. You knew it all and yet, you still worried for him. You wanted him to touch you again. His hand on your shoulder sparked something that went dormant after five years.

Annoying.

Gross.

Snotty.

Clingy.

Sticky.

“beautiful.” Touya finished. You felt the air in your car slip out the window. You dragged your eyes from the school door, looking at him. He wasn't looking at you, staring at the school. You furrowed your eyebrows. That word you had not expected at all. You thought you'd have to drive Touya home in silence and fully cut contact this time.

Have you had him tested yet? for anything because that child is just-

“What?” you said, staring at the side of his face. Touya looked at you, finally meeting your eyes. Your shoulders sank. He unfortunately always had this affect on you.

“Your son is so beautiful. He’s just like you. I look at him and all I see is you. Kaito is just…” His eyes traveled back to the door Kaito had disappeared through. You wouldn't see him again for a good six hours.

“I can't explain it but he's just so perfect. I just don't understand how such a sweet person could have anything to do with me. Which is how I felt about you all those years ago. He is a carbon copy of you, you know that?” Touya said, a small smile playing on his lips. He sighed and stared at you, watching your face.

“He is beautiful.” You paused, keeping your eyes on Touya. You stared at Kaito some nights when he was asleep in your bed from a nightmare and only saw a chubbier and less scarred version of Touya's face staring at you.

“He looks like you,” you muttered, starting your car again. Touya sat back in the passenger seat, pulling the seat belt down.

“I have photo albums at home. Would you like to see?” you asked as you pulled out the school driveway back towards your home. Touya rubbed at his face. He quickly nodded.

“Yes, I would,” Touya whispered, looking out the window.

#bnha touya #mha touya #touya x reader #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #touya x you #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi x reader #dabi #mha x reader #mha #bnha x reader #bnha #sorry its so long #there probably will be a second part ngl

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fangel · 23 hours ago

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YVE !! ♡ my angel, your feedback means more than all the stars in the sky ଘ꒰ ॣ´͈ ᵕ `͈ ॣ꒱ଓ i’m going to scream with you under the cut

starting with the synopsis alskdwlmzap i mean who doesn’t see sunghoon and #WantThat ?! i fear he wouldn’t leave a room with me in one piece

as an evil, weird, off putting girl myself i had to represent !! she was so easy to write bc i was half self-inserting during this story 😭 i love her idc ! she never did wrong !!

m*n are rotten, and i wholeheartedly agree that 100 random m*n should be sacrificed monthly. honestly, put them all in jail to start until deemed worthy of being free ! ~ the father / reverend is the true evil here. absolute terrible man (but necessary for the plot) i love how you dragged him every chance you got LMAO he deserves all the hate “it’s time for you to die” IJBOL, so real

it was hitting real close to home while writing ㅠㅠ and you’re so right - she wasn’t born resilient, she had to become resilient because of the environment she grew up in !! and omg your comments about her made me realize how sad and angsty this story is (i didn’t even think it was that depressing while writing but ohmygod it really is ajskakf)

NOT THE “it’s nice to be seen, noticed” being a theme in my works 😭 am i exposing myself ?!? (yes)

sidenote — I LOVE ALL THE LIL MEMES AND GIFS SO MUCH HAHA the debby ryan ones always get me

i live love laugh when one of the love interests is a lil scared. yes, fear me, i love you but am also out to get you (in many ways, this adds to the mystery hehe) likkkke sunghoon doesn’t know what to do with all that !! … or does he?

THANK YOU! i pride myself in my weird creativity and no it’s not weird, it just means you’re a Real One. be giddy and excited !!!

you’re freaky comments kslakdpalb #REAL

soooo much religious trauma in this story. i’m the biggest nerd when it comes to theology and religious media (i honestly don’t know why, i don’t love or hate religion and im not religious (anymore), but something about it i’m always itching to write). i think it’s perfect for wanting to write about a relationship dealing with unlearning shame and guilt etc idk ! you get it? yeah, you do

reader is 100000% projecting her feelings / trauma onto him. she doesn’t even realize that until later and how ironically she kind of was acting like her father in a way. and you’re on the money again ! she does like ruining sunghoon and having power over something but eventually realizes she likes the company much more after being alone most her life

omg ty ily for loving my ‘evil’ mc :( 🤍 she’s so complex and so very human. loved how you described her because that’s exactly how i wanted her to come across. yeah she’s a little mean but how can we blame her 😔

NO YOU ARE CORRECT !!! jake in HoP is also jake from attic angel. just them as college students (tbh i don’t remember all my details from attic angel, but i did want him to make a cameo here so yes this is my multiverse)

FATHERLESS BEHAVIOR ! i screamed. but sunghoon is sooooo cute. i had to bring the babygirl hoon agenda to light bc he’s so sweet and loser boy coded to me

YES THE TEDDY BEAR SCENE it’s actually my favorite part of the whole story 😭 because she’s finally opening up to him and being somewhat vulnerable. tender intimate moments >> anything else. I LOVE SLOW BURN, AND I MEANT IT !! before writing on this account angst and slow burn was always my go to :)) also the blood oath scene is one of my favs. it was supposed to be longer but was lazy lol

(i have to reply to the comment, sorry not sorry) but i had to gut you open to blow on the boo-boos </3 i needed that fluff to feel extra rewarding after the angst

IM SOOOO HAPPY you feel this was made for you because it was !! it really truly was. you’re more than likely a lot like me and this story was a love letter to all the people that the world made me feel small. we are seen and we can and will be loved just as tenderly as we wish regardless of how negative we feel about ourselves or what others think, etc 🤍 (i swear i have no cameras watching you!! unless.. JK)

NOT YOU CALLING ME OUT ABOUT THE ROOMS HAHA college boys are truly a mess, you got me there. i remember my guy friends dorms and it was horrid. sunghoon would never tho..

i could reply to everything you said (i totally did out loud to myself while giggling and kicking my feet with a fat grin) but i’ll end with THANK YOUUUUU SO MUCH FOR TAKING YOUR TIME TO READ MY STORY AND EVEN MAKE COMMENTS WITH ALL THE PICTURES AND WHAT NOT IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME HOW YOU PUT EFFORT INTO YOUR RESPONSES. I LOVE YOU SO BAD AND ITS BC YOU I ENJOY WRITING AND SHARING MY WORK EVEN MORE <3 !!!!!!! may the most tender, kind, and warm love find you.

harvest of purity — sunghoon [ 박성훈 ]

pairing ⦂ sunghoon ⨯ fem. reader

synopsis ⦂ au in which an innocent, shy, and faithful sunghoon takes a summer job as a farmhand. he’s never indulged on his desires until the farmer’s daughter shows him a taste of sin. although riddled with guilt, he cannot deny or escape the new rousing feelings that impurify him. especially when she's set on ruining him every chance she gets.

genre ⦂ smut, slow burn romance, strangers to lovers word count ⦂ 29k tags ⦂ fluff and angst, repressed desires, innocence loss, guilt and shame, exploring relationships, falling in love, southern gothic vibes, summer au, clingy down bad sunghoon, ‘mean’ morally gray reader, both are weirdo loser freaks content advisory ⦂ mdni ! dark-ish content ⚠︎ sexually explicit content in four scenes: handjob, oral (m. rec.), dry humping, thigh fucking, unprotected sex, virginity loss, corruption!kink, degradation!kink, praise!kink, switch!hoon, he whines whimpers and cries; religious themes, concepts, corruption, and criticism; manipulation, animal death, blood, intense scenes, abusive parenting, gun mention and use

note ⦂ poured my heart out. i hope you love it as much as i do. dedicated to my other evil, off-putting, and/or weird girls┊reblogs and feedback encouraged ⇀ playlist ⸝⸝ masterlist 🌾

　You’re not sure what life in your small town was like before you were born. You can imagine it’s not too different from what it is now though. The thing about old country towns is they never seem to change. Open fields and miles of farmland. Two gas stations, one grocery store, a few family owned vegetable stands or in-home produce product shops. Only one notable neighborhood where the majority of the townspeople lived if not hidden somewhere else in the countryside. And too many churches to keep track of if the abandoned ones were included in the count.

You like to think your parents were happy before you too. Hopeful and optimistic when offered to take over your uncle’s farm. Excited for the next step in their relationship after their marriage. They were the ideal family dream coming to life: high school lovers, engaged after graduation, married, a career handed to them through family with a large property of land and lovely farmhouse. All that was left was to grow that family. To have children to not only help tend the fields and animals but run around barefoot, all smiles, and wide eyed.

You were positive that it was something they wanted.

But life couldn’t have been that easy for them; it would’ve been too gratuitous of a blessing.

The day you were born, your father knew there was something greatly wrong with you. He claimed that on the day you ripped your mother open, screaming and crying, that God spoke to him for the first time. He called it divine intervention. Believing the birth of your soul was a red-herring of all that was set to come but God would show him the light, the truth: that you were nothing short of evil and needed saving.

That year on the farm there was nothing but death. It only furthered your father’s harsh thinking of you. The crops and produce either died or rotted before it had the chance to grow or ripe. The animals were dropping dead from unknown illnesses. Every female livestock that gave birth passed in doing so. Barely any profits were made that year. Taxes were rising and so were the prices of nearly everything. It was a huge toll for your family, especially when raising their first child. Before you were even conscious of the situation everything was already deemed your fault.

Through the harrowing struggle, your father’s optimism turned to resentment. He claimed that bringing you to the farm was not like bringing a daughter home, but a corrosive parasite. He believed that you were the reason for the life being sucked away from their perfect farm life. So, he turned to the only thing that he could trust to save the family from your curse: God. Begging and pleading through prayers every morning and night to the sky for a better season.

He studied religion here and there before taking over his brother-in-law's farm but with the farm failing for the first time, he took a change of career paths. He was already well known among the locals, close with the church goers in the community. And somewhere along the way, he managed to start preaching himself. Nearly every christian in your town moved churches to follow where he went. Like sheep to a shepherd.

If only they knew what you did, what he was truly like behind the closed doors of your home. How his devotion was turning to violence. Day by day, becoming uglier.

While your father busied himself with his new found family, often away from home on the farm, the crops and animals began to thrive again. Slowly but surely, growing and regaining health. He would say it’s God’s doing, a small taste of His salvation.

Your early years were mostly troubled by the relationship of your parents. Too young to fully understand their disputes, drawing at the kitchen table with their yelling sounding the house. It was always about you, that much you knew. Because you watch and you listen. Quick to learn that they tried for another child but never had any success. They wanted someone else to be their baby. Something that felt more like a blessing than you. Your father constantly spitting in your mother’s face that you were the rot to the fruit of her womb. And then he would always end up leaving by slamming the door and your mother would always join you at the table with tears and a bottle of wine. You always just watched, listening in silence. Perhaps just born resilient.

Growing up was different for you compared to most of the kids in your town. You never had the opportunity to make many friends being homeschooled. The only time that was spent around others your age was kindergarten. Kindergarten was short lived because of your behavior; the teachers at school were concerned about you. How you were mean, rough, and sinister with your actions towards others. Picking on the kids you were simply interested in because of how different from you they were. Drawing pictures of gutted cattle or dead, half developed baby chicks still in their shell and giving them as gifts to the teachers. Sharing to classmates the cruelty of farm life and why it was pretty with a smile.

Your father loved to find out about this, you could see it in his eyes. The way they were wicked and screamed I told you so to your mother. You didn’t understand why it was bad or caused trouble. You were only having fun for the first time. The way the kids ran away crying or the teachers wore faces of shocked horror, it made your insides light up in joy. A new feeling—a sense of excitement. You didn’t know it was sick. And of course, it was taken from you. You were removed from school and your mother became your teacher. Your classmates became stuffed animals and the real ones in the barns. It was hard for you to find that joy you briefly felt with others.

Sometimes you had a glimpse of it again when your father would punish you. But even that you grew sick of. The mess, the stench of it all. Sticky and red, worse in the heat of summer. He drilled the sick moto for his actions into your head, “I know no punishment, only mercy.”

Father took you both to church more often after that. He had a false image to uphold afterall, one of a happy, God loving family. In his ego he had to prove that his preaching and prayers could fix you, save you. But that was only admitted at home, loud and scary to your mother. Your poor mother, weak and defensive of you, eventually waved her white flag. You wished she kept fighting for you and that she wouldn’t begin to see you the way your father did.

Childhood and adolescence was a string of questions about yourself. Never quite finding out what made you so bad to be seen as devilish when all you thought of yourself was curious. Perhaps just unlucky to be correlated with negative happenings on and off the farm, always gone without a chance of understanding. Despite it all, you knew well enough the way your parents talked and looked at you was without unconditional love.

On your 17th birthday, the family dynamic made the biggest shift to be experienced.

At this age, you had such a strong sense of independence and with the lack of parental guidance and monitoring, you would leave town when you could. Ride your bike down the long road to the bus stop at the center of town and take the bus into the city over. Your mother was generous with allowance and you saved your money well, only spending it on books or trips to the movie theater. A form of escape that allowed you to learn more about the world and all the things your parents tried to keep hidden from you. A way to learn how to be human.

So when your father was tearing your room apart in search of the same gift he re-gifts you every year, he found some things that made his stomach churn. Every year for your birthday he rewrapped the same, first ever, bible he’d given you. Funny enough that he gave you anything at all considering he never even referred to it as your day, only his day of revelation. And to his disgust, on his sacred day, he found books and journals of explicitly detailed copulation and debauchery.

He almost fainted. Stumbling over his own feet, hands shaking as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the words on the pages. That was the only time you smiled on that day. Just for a second. And then a glimpse of hell broke loose.

In a rage, he destroyed everything. Your mother stood next to you in tears, telling him to stop and stop. Her hands covered her face but she saw everything through her fingers. You only watched in silence, hands balled in fists by your side. A silent hatred and anger coursed in you. He called you names that no man of God should, especially to his own daughter.

“You’re a disgraceful deviant of Satan! I should’ve known. My own day of revelation is a curse!” You watched him rip pages apart, his voice booming through the house. “Years spent praying for you and this is how you turn out?! Succumbing to nothing but a dreaming whore?!”

A part of you liked his mean words. It was so rare for him to use such colorful language.

You knew what would come next. He was going to have you ‘cleansed’. Something he always did when he discovered something new and sacrilegious of you.

But it didn’t come. Because there was no dying, old sheep on the farm at the time. He did make a promise to not forget though. A promise to have you washed in sacrificial, blessed blood on a day you least expected.

Your father left after that, leaving you and your mother behind. He moved to the city to continue his preaching at a larger church. He became known as the closest reverend to God for miles and miles. Lost in his ways, he only made visits when he needed to sort things out for the business of the farm.

You were content with his departure, yet couldn’t quite understand why your mother missed him. As far as you’ve seen, he was never kind towards either of you.

　But now, it’s several years later. And although you’re free of your father’s heavy presence and homilies, he still makes his trips to the farm. You can feel the air change whenever he does, as if you’ve gained a sixth sense for his coming. Naturally intuitive to things having spent your childhood walking on eggshells in your own home.

And today, the air feels particularly chill for summer. The breeze sweeps in through your open window. The forecast called for nothing but sunshine all week, yet there’s an angry, dark cloud hanging over your farm. A foreboding feeling shivers through you, and you know he’s going to fulfill his promise today. You sigh and slide out of bed. “Let’s get this over with.”

You spend the morning doing your usual routine. Brushing teeth, washing your face, then dressing in farm work attire. Your breakfast consists of tea and your mothers homemade strawberry scone. Next is tending to the animals. Your mother usually takes care of the crops and gardening. It’s a quiet and early morning, as most are. The both of you keep to yourselves, just doing what needs to be done day by day.

The sound of a car is heard coming down to the long dirt road and you know who it is by the sound. It’s a fancier vehicle than the one he left this property with years ago. A meaner part of you likes to think his greedy hands got into that mega church’s donations but you’re too self aware of the successful farm your family owns.

Your father parks in front of the house and your mother is quick to rush over to him, presumably with many questions: How have you been? Are you hungry? Thirsty? What brings you here so early in the month?

You roll your eyes at her desperation to cling onto the relationship that clearly ended when you were a child.

You place a hand on your hip, leaning your weight to the side that isn’t carrying the heavy bucket of chicken feed. Walking away from the coops and back towards the shed by the house, you make eye contact with your father despite only taking a glance.

He watches you with narrow eyes from the lowered window of the car he’s still sitting in, very much not listening to a word your mother is saying.

He calls your name before you can open the shed. Spinning on the heels of your boots, you turn around with raised brows of questioning.

He mouths the words sacrificial tree as he exits the car. Your mother sees this. She wears pained disappointment as she scurries away. Presumably to the barn where the sheeps and lambs are kept. She might as well be a sheep too, you think.

The bucket slips from your fingers and drops to the patchy dirt grass by your feet with a thud, spilling over in a mess that will be cleaned later.

You don’t bother giving him a nod of understanding. You just turn around and begin your walk to the tree line where the man made path is. Knowing it would take some time for his preparations, you walk to the lake that’s hidden behind the farmland.

It’s a brief walk through your familiar woods. Once at the short wooden dock, you sit down at the end, taking in the gloomy summer scenery. A light fog hugs over the water. You bring your knees to your chest, in your sitting position, and hug yourself the same way.

This is your favorite place out of all the land your family owns. It’s serene, mostly. Always quiet. You’re the only one who comes here. And it’s nice to swim with when the weather warrants it. There’s a feeling here that’s hard to feel anywhere else you find yourself. Sometimes you imagine what it would be like with someone else, but you doubt it would be as nice. Trouble has a way of following you, it seems. You frown at the thought.

It’s silent like this for a few minutes, just you trying to find a sense of calmness before the impending chastisement. Then you hear some rustling of leaves, heavy footsteps following. You don’t turn around yet, you only wait for the call of your name. Your time of tranquility is too brief. You sigh before giving yourself a squeezing hug.

“It’s time,” the reverend calls out loudly, “quickly now, we have new farmhands arriving soon.” The sound of his feet walking away is when you stand. You wave a goodbye to the foggy lake before parting ways. Your feet move unconsciously, taking to where your body knows to go.

Leaves crinkle underneath your boots and twigs snap. The trees’ branches sway in the gentle morning breezes that pass.

In the mix of the small forest, man made crosses of sticks or plywood are spaciously scattered. Like a graveyard to all your bad doings. Most small but one large. Old rotted wood that stands crooked and begging to fall over right next to the largest, strongest tree. Your eyes, that are trained to ground, move upwards the cross and then to the tree. Your father stands there with a large knife in hand. Your mother waits cautiously not too far away. Her demeanor is frightful as if this is the first time. Coward.

An old sheep hangs by its hind legs from a sturdy tree branch. Unmoving and defenseless. Big beady, dumb eyes look in all directions but you. You think it must feel the same guilt as yourself, sorry that its life purpose is to embarrass you, make you hate what you are.

“God told me to make a sacrifice to prove my faith. He guides my hand in washing your soul clean of sin. So here I am with our blessed, dying lamb.” He’s said this every time. His voice is always miserably rehearsed and preacher-esque.

You thought long ago that this was their, the lambs, only use on the farm. It’s a shame. All that devotion has made him so ugly and violent.

You make small steps closer to the lamb. It’s whining in bleat baas and mehs. Does it know what’s happening? Is it scared? You like the lambs, sheeps. Pure white, soft, and docile. They never fight back. They just take it. I doubt they need restraints. You could hold them above me just the same and they’d never resist.

“Move faster, for the love of God. Yeah, stand right there underneath like you know how to.” He instructs you, annoyed. His patience running thin as the distant sounds of a truck makes way down the dirt road to the farm property.

“Okay…” You don’t fight him, with arms crossed behind your back and a hand squeezing around your own wrist, you move closer. Maybe you’re a lamb too.

Maybe all your father really was is the executioner.

He raises the knife as he begins to speak, it slides over its cotton, white throat but does not cut, “Revelation 7:13-17 Then he told me, ‘These are those who come from the great tribulation, and they’ve washed their robes, scrubbed them clean in the blood of the Lamb. That’s why they’re standing before God’s Throne. They serve him day and night in his Temple. The One on the Throne will pitch his tent there for them: no more hunger, no more thirst, no more scorching heat. The Lamb on the Throne will shepherd them, will lead them to spring waters of Life. And God will wipe every last tear from their eyes.’” He slits its throat in a quick, harsh movement. The blood spills just as fast, squirting spurts of red before it comes pouring down onto you. “Face up,” you obey even though it brings you rage, “it ought to cleanse those unholy thoughts I know that are still in there.”

Head raised to the sky with eyes and mouth squeezed shut, you let it consume you. Warm, thick and wet washes down from your head onto your clothes then down to your feet. The smell of animal, metallic iron covers you. It’s sticking to your hair, eyebrows and lashes. You can already feel your clothes clinging to your skin in the dirtiest ways.

You stand there, drenching in the its blood. Your father speaks again, firm and slow, “Say it with me now, ‘I know no punishment, only mercy.’” All you feel is the animal’s rain of life flooding you.

You open your mouth to speak but are quick to spit and cough out the blood that manages to get into your mouth. Smack.

“I don’t have time for this,” his voice sounds like an echo, your head is ringing from the harsh swing of his hand. The skin of your cheek stings. He hits like a bitch, you think. “Say it with me now, dammit!” You can feel him wipe his bloodied hand on the side of your shirt.

You step back from under the red shower. “I know no punishment, only mercy.” Your words align with his in the perfect paced harmony you’re trained to do so. Enunciated, slow and strong, through gritted teeth.

There’s a beat of silence before the sound of your parents footsteps walking away.

Standing there in red, yet to open your eyes, you breathe out a shaky sigh of defeat. It sounds more like a growl. With the mostly clean hands you kept safely behind you, you bring them up to wipe the blood from your face. You don’t dare to look at the dead animal in front of you. Being covered in it is enough alone to make you feel sick.

You think of going back to the lake, jumping in and letting the blood wash off you there, but knowing you’d either walk back with further drenched clothes or naked didn’t seem like options you wanted to deal with either. So you just head back to the house. It’s a slower walk than need be, but you just felt like avoiding the eyes of the newcomers, hoping they’d be off in the fields or in a barn by the time you walk through. You feel numb.

You’re wrong though, by the time you’re passing the barns and coops, the group of new farmhands are already lined up outside the horses’ stable. Your mother is talking to them, although not all are paying attention. Only a few pairs of wide eyes follow you. Catching the sight of you must really shock them but you can’t blame them. Something about this makes you excited. You stop in your tracks and look around to see if your father’s car is gone. It is. The realization feels like a wave of relief and it suddenly feels brighter outside already.

You take a glance down to your disheveled appearance. Shirt, pants, and boots painted like the barns. You look back to the group, brushing the soiled hair back from your face. Some pieces stay stuck, in the early stages of drying against your skin.

It’s safe to have a little fun.

You begin a slow walk over to the group. You take a headcount and there’s five of them. Two younger men, closer to your age. The other three look a bit older, not by much but definitely older. Your mother is yet to turn around from whatever rundown she’s giving them. Too dense to even recognize that now none of them were paying any attention to her.

You creep up beside her and open with, “Hello,” your voice is louder than even you’ve heard it be in a long time. It’s nice to be heard, noticed. You usually avoided the farmhands, but this summer was going to be different. You decided this on the walk over.

Being cooped up on the farm for so long made you different, it’s obvious to anybody. Not properly socialized in your developmental years caused you to be an anomaly to the ones who did come across you. Enigmatic from far away and up close. Now isn’t the greatest example though, the situation is too clear as to why.

Your mother turns to you, gasping and jumping back slightly in the shock of your gross state and sudden introduction. “My goodness, girl, whatta ya doin’ here like this?” Her voice is hushed, clearly unsettled with the situation.

They all just stare at you, open mouthed and bewildered. You take the time to get a good look at each of them up close. Your eyes follow their faces individually down the line. And then they stop.

At the end of the line is a man more beautiful than the ones you’ve seen in the movies. You feel stuck in time, left with parted lips, staring at the man before you. And far too intently for your character. He stands tall, sharp, pale, and elegant. What is a boy like this doing here? He averts his eyes from you, clearly uncomfortable by what’s before him. He looks uneasy, shifting his weight foot to foot with his hands behind his back. His pretty eyes glance around from you to your mother to the other men and the ground. He simply doesn’t know what to do with himself. You find it dangerously darling of him.

You don’t even realize the small smile that takes your lips. You step closer to him and he steps back, now looking at you with wide eyes of small fear. You extend your hand to him, it’s coated in drying blood. He gulps and the sight, his adam’s apple bobbing in such a biteable neck stirs something in you. This will be far more fun than you intended.

You say your name softly for introduction and step a little closer, “Nice to meet you," you feign cuteness as much as you can, looking up at him through your blood clumped lashes. It’s clear to everyone there is something off; there’s little to no real emotion behind your voice and face.

Your mother eyes you suspiciously as you corner the handsome man, but she says nothing. Sometimes she fears you too.

He looks from your eyes to your hand, having an internal battle with himself on what to do, “Ah, I am Sunghoon... Nice to meet you too.” His politeness must be stronger than his frighteness, because he takes his hand in yours and shakes it gently. His hand is large in yours, nearly covering it entirely. You squeeze it hard, your eyes never leaving his, trapping him in the scene.

He wants to look away, to hide somewhere. The way his skin crawls tells him he’s a prey already in the mouth of a predator. And you know he’s nervous under your intense gaze because your hand feels like a lamb is still bleeding above you. His palms are sweating, and it’s nowhere near hot enough for that yet. Your smile grows to a smirk.

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

　Sunghoon’s first day of his summer job starts off duller than he imagined. The sun isn’t out this morning and it only intensifies his anxiousness, as if the grey skies reflect his inner emotions. He’s already new to the area, away from home and staying in an apartment not far from his college in the city. A private, christian school that he studied hard to get into with his friend. He wishes his best friend and roommate, Jake, was joining him in this job, but Jake already had plans to teach at a summer soccer camp for kids through their school.

He found this opportunity through the college church they attend together. A reverend from another church in the city came to visit one Sunday, handing out flyers to the young men in hopes of finding farm help. The pay is good and the bus fairs to the small town over where the farm’s located is covered. He’s never done work like it before, nevertheless was he going to let a simple offer pass him up.

Things are going smoothly to start, being told how to care for, clean, and feed the animals to crop preservation. Everyone would have their own specific roles on the farm. Sunghoon was assigned the easier of the tasks, either feeding animals or watering and fertilizing the vegetables and fruits crops. He learns there are already regular farm workers that would come throughout the week to collect produce, material, and use the machinery for the more laborious work. And if she wasn't around when needed then they could ask any of the regular employees for assistance or find her at the house.

As the farm owner is about to give details on the horses’ maintenance, a girl saunters in. And the anxious feelings become of Sunghoon all over again. His eyes are wide, taking in her appearance. The smell of the farm dissipates and putrid copper takes over. The worst part is how calm she appears, and the fact that she’s unbothered with all that she wears.

He thinks his brain short circuits, everything seeming muffled and unreal. He doesn’t even realize he introduced himself or touched her. It all was too quick and unfamiliar for him to grasp.

He watches as she walks away, back to the house that sits slightly over the hills and valleys of the property. His expression is blank, blinking slowly at the strange girl then down to his hand that’s stained red too.

“Don’t pay her no mind,” the woman speaks up, she sounds as if she’s warning them. “Just get yer work done and when everyone’s finished y’all can head back home. I won’t ask too much of ya in yer first month here, alright? That might be a different story later.” She tries to end the statements in humor with her forced laugh.

Sunghoon nods but his eyes don’t leave his dirty hand. The other men nod along too and give their ‘yes, ma’ams’ in return.

The woman continues walking them around the farm, listing rules and guidelines they must follow, along with advice and tips for the work they’ll be doing.

The day flows as easy as it can for Sunghoon. He doesn’t talk much with the other farmhands. He also doesn’t know them well enough to be comfortable in their conversations, so he just exists in awkward silence, sometimes reacting. While they can joke around and find fun in the work, his mind keeps wandering off to the girl from earlier, to you. How your empty eyes held onto his and small hand even tighter. He thinks the palm of his hand still burns from the interaction.

Around the afternoon time, Sunghoon and the guys are sitting around a picnic table near the house. The sun is beating down on them all now while they chug down water and eat their lunch. The owner was kind enough to provide their refreshments and meals. They were all thankful.

She adds that there’s a small lodge up the dirt road. It’s a little old but homey and has space with two spare bedrooms if they need to wash up or rest at any time. It was originally built for the farm workers that worked late and needed a place to stay if need be.

Once done, the boys stand up and talk about what they have left to do. The next bus back to the city isn’t running for another two hours so they speak of taking some leisure time and exploring the farm property. Meanwhile Sunghoon is still sitting, watching them huddled in conversation. He wipes some sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand as they begin walking towards the fields.

Sunghoon, taking what the farm owner had mentioned previously, decides that he’d like to stay inside to get away from the beating sun for a while. So he gathers his trash to throw away in the bin by the road near the house’s mailbox and begins his walk to the lodge.

Once inside he takes in the rustic, outdated furniture. It’s a little dusty and the floorboards creak beneath his feet but he finds it somewhat comforting. The living space has two couches by an old stone fireplace, a center table with board games and cards, a kitchenette, and a large dining table with enough space to seat six people.

The decor is very farmers-life-esque. From a cow print rug in the small kitchen area to the antlers mounted on the wall near the dining table. There’s scenic southern paintings hung up along with antique crosses and prints of bible verses, all adoring the faded and peeling floral wallpaper. Above the fireplace hangs a painting depicting Jesus healing a blind man.

He walks down the only short hall in the lodge to find the two spare bedrooms the woman had mentioned along with a bathroom. He takes this time to wash his hands thoroughly and splash some cold water on his face. With his hands resting on the sink, he stares at himself in the mirror. The cold drops of water slip down his face, jaw, and back into the sink.

In his mind he’s questioning whether or not he’s sure of this job. It’s all too different from what he knows and he can’t help but feel out of place here. With a sigh, he drops his head and watches the water slip down the sink.

He jumps slightly at the sudden sound of the front door opening and closing, not expecting the others to join him here quite yet. No noise follows the action for a moment, not even footsteps. Then there’s the sound of a click, like the door is being locked. He straightens his posture and peaks out the bathroom door, listening for their voices or any sound other than silence. It offers nothing to him so he begins to feel tense.

“Hello?” Sunghoon calls out skittishly, but there’s no response. His heart rate picks up a little and he starts to think the boys are trying to pull some sort of childish prank on him. He leaves the room and makes slow steps down the hallway to the main area of the lodging house.

As he rounds the corner he doesn’t find any of the boys there though, he just sees you. His heart jumps at the realization. Sitting on the couch, in overall shorts and nothing else. Bare legs crossed and hands against the couch by your sides as you watch him peer around the corner with apprehension. You’re just sitting there, leaning forward and waiting for him to come find you.

Cowardly, Sunghoon makes a half turn. He presses his back against the wall of the hallway as if he could hide away or disappear into it. He even closes his eyes, thinking of a quick prayer to save him from this circumstance.

“Are you pretending to be shy or are you really this cute?” Your voice is teasing, and he can hear the wicked smile in it without seeing.

Feeling caught, he just sighs and slowly makes his way to the living area. He tries not to look at you, thinking you are too revealing. So he looks everywhere else and then to large windows that give view to the farm; none of the guys are in sight. Most likely somewhere goofing off. All he can see is the fields and farm buildings standing large in the distance.

He doesn’t move and speaks softly, “I should probably go find the others-”

You speak before he can finish his attempt of an excuse, “Come sit with me.” You pat the space on the couch next to yourself. Your voice sounds welcoming but he knows there’s an undertone of mischief.

He makes a quick glance to you and sucks in a breath at the view of your body that’s exposed from your overalls. The glimpse of the curve of your breast disappearing under the denim already makes him feel like he’s seen too much of you. And he has. He’s never seen such bare skin on a girl and he’s never been alone in a room with one either.

“Come sit with me, now.” You’re more stern this time, demanding in a gentle way. Your hand makes small movements, soothing over the material of the couch like you’re warming the space for him.

He visibly swallows as he makes his hesitant steps over to you. His heart is racing and with every beat there is a question of his strength. He sits down on the same sofa but not directly next to you like you want. You smirk nonetheless and turn to face him, sitting with your legs criss-cross now.

With your elbows to your knees you hold your head in your hands, watching the side of his face. You’re again realizing how sculpted his features are. Dark thick hair on his head, eyebrows and lashes too. An array of moles sprinkle his pale face. A sharp nose that sits above pink, full lips. You wonder if he knows of his own beauty. It’s fascinating to see such a person like him in front of you.

He’s sitting with perfect posture, not relaxing into the couch. Alert like a deer that’s waiting for too sudden of movement to pounce away. His eyes just watch the table, reading through the names of the board games that lay there as a way of distracting himself. He’s awkward.

“Uhm… d-does your family own this farm?” he tries for small talk to break the silence. His bottom lip finds itself between his teeth as he makes one quick look over to you. Luckily your overalls sit high up or he’d have a full view of your chest. He can’t help but think of the fact and it makes him shift uncomfortably.

“Do I make you nervous?” you question, seriously so. Brows pulled tight in a furrow with a straight face. You lean in even closer to him, watching for every change on his face.

“Yes,” his response is honestly quick and ends with a tight lip, like he’s holding his breath. He is yet to comprehend what is happening, still in a whirlwind of thoughts of what could—will—happen.

“Why?” Your head tilts slightly to the side, it makes him think of his roommate briefly. And man does he wish he were here to ease the tension.

He doesn’t want to admit that he’s never been in such close proximity with a girl alone before, so he just clears his throat and remains quiet after doing so.

Curiously, you bring a hand up with a pointed finger and brush the tip of it over the mole on the side of his nose. He jolts back at the sudden touch, his cheeks flushing a warm pink. His eyes now watch you with gentle confusion. He touches the same spot you did with a trembling hand.

“You have a constellation on your face. So many moles… Do you have a girlfriend?”

His face burns a little more, both from the observation and the question. He shakes his head, sitting himself further into the couch and further away from you. He can’t quite understand the situation. Are you messing with him? You seem too serious for such. Maybe you’re just weird like he initially thought. Either way he can feel his faith slipping; he is cupping holy water in hands during an earthquake.

“Did I do somethin’ wrong? Am I not pretty?” You pout to be playful with him, acting as if his actions are offending you. He takes it literally though.

“No!” his hands rest on his knees and he holds them hard, trying to find stability despite sitting down. “Y-you are… pretty,” his words grow quieter, like he’s sharing a secret. “I just don’t know you or why you want to talk to me.”

“Hm.” You lean your head back against the couch. With your eyes still on his face, you speak just as quietly, “I’m still trying to figure that out too.” After some beats of muted air you speak up again, but with more presence, “You came to work here. Why?”

“A man was handing out flyer ads at the church. I wanted a summer job.”

Is he always this direct and boring? And church, of fucking course. You roll your eyes, pushing yourself off the back cushion and even closer to the man. Your knees touch the side of his body and his thigh. He looks like he’s trying to control his breathing, to feign lack of disturbance, but his face says everything you need to know.

You place a hand on his thigh and his whole body stiffens at the action. Your smirk to yourself. It’s only resting there on the top of his jeans. “You act like a girl has never touched you before.” You give him a soft squeeze and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Well? Has a girl ever touched you?”

He shakes his head quickly, “No,” he breaks, feeling overwhelmed and wrong, “and I don’t think you should be. It’s against the churches values-”

“At your age you still follow the rules?” Your hand slides lower and back up his thigh, it’s a slow and teasing motion. There’s enjoyment in how scared he’s becoming.

Sunghoon knows that this is only going to lead him down a path he swore to God not to take. And if his parents were to know that in his first year away from home in the summer since college was locked in a lodge with a promiscuous girl he’d have it handed to him. The thought of their wrath makes him shiver all the more.

“I just don’t want to sin.” His eyes close and he bites down onto his lip again. He no longer cares if a stranger sees him as a loser or prude. His virtue is being tested in real time, and he’s feared facing this battle many times in the night because even in his dreams he loses.

“I’m only touching you. How is it a sin?” The tone of your voice changes, it’s soft like the hand that moves closer to in between his thighs. Your fingertips press into his clothed skin here and there, curiously feeling him up. You just try to get a reaction out of him. There’s a warm feeling in your stomach that you don’t recognize; it’s faintly familiar.

“Your hand isn’t supposed to be… there.” He makes a strained sound, something like a low whine, as your hand ghosts over his cock.

You look down to your movements for the first time and realize he’s sporting a half chub. You snicker quietly, cupping him in your palm. “Then why are you getting hard, Sunghoon? Do you like the way I’m touching you? I bet you’ve thought about doing this before too.”

He makes another noise, a whimper. He can’t bring himself to open his eyes and accept what’s happening. He also can’t find it in himself to stop you, or get up and leave. This wasn’t just a struggle with evil’s temptation but his own biological nature. Something yet to be explored, something that’s been scratching at his ribcage for years to be fed.

There’s too much he can’t admit in this moment. Starting with how he enjoys the sound of your voice, the slight accent and dialect difference he picks up. How the way his name leaves your lips makes him want to crumble like a burning church. And how he silently likes the fact he can’t control the way his body is reacting to your hands on him.

It’s all wrong, wrong, wrong. And he is weak.

“Answer me, Sunghoon.” Your hand presses down on him, feeling the growing hardness under your palm. You give him a small squeeze, massaging over the bulge. To your surprise he feels big. Your eyebrows quirk at this and then you look back to his face. A single tear runs down his face and you find satisfaction in it. “Lying is a sin too,” you remind him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hands fist the couch cushions at his sides. He grips the material so tight that his knuckles turn pink through the pale of his skin. His chest rises and falls through slow and deep breaths.

“You shouldn’t feel sorry for something that makes you feel good.” You palm over him a few more times, drawing out little moans and whimpers from him. He’s struggling to sit still. You can even feel him try not to push his hips back up into you; if only he would admit that he wants it. He’s practically pulsing beneath you, like there’s never been such a rush of blood to his cock in his life. You sigh dramatically and pull your hand away from him, sitting back to give him space. “That’s too bad. A good dog will always be loyal, huh?”

His eyes shoot open when he feels your hand is gone. He looks at you desperately with wet eyes, a small pout to his lips. You make him feel sick for wanting to ask why you stopped, or if he did something bad for you to take away his short-lived pleasure.

You smirk at his expression, so pitifully beautiful with want. “Have you ever touched yourself?” you ask, placing your hand over his that hasn’t let go of the couch. It takes you back when he flips his hand around to hold onto yours, clingy and wretched. His thumb brushes over your knuckles. Repulsed, you react quickly and take your hand away from him at his impulsive intimacy. It makes him frown with a meek whimper.

He shakes his head slowly, looking down to his lap. “I can’t.” He knows he’s not allowed to. His father was adamant through his puberty that he mustn’t succumb to his body’s natural taste for sin. He was told that sometimes the devil had a funny way of sneaking into a man’s mind. That Satan would haunt boys in their sleep to wake them up with guilt of uncontrollable lust to be like him.

“But you like when I do it, right?” You rest your head on his shoulder and look up at him. His eyes look from your face to the thin opening of your overalls where your chest can be seen from the angle. He bites down hard and nods slowly. You coo, moving your hand back to his still hard, clothed cock. “I can make it go away if you want. You want that?”

He’s battling all the repressed things he’s been too afraid to explore; fearful of the swing of his parents belt he felt once long ago after being caught in a misunderstanding. In spite of it, he nods again. “It hurts.. Please, help me.” His voice is so quiet. Even he doesn’t want to hear his own pathetic begging.

Your fingers find the zipper of his jeans then you tug it down slowly as you stare at him. “You have to pull them down for me, okay? I can’t help you with just this.”

Sunghoon freezes for a second knowing he has control over being the one to take out his own cock. Yet apprehension leaves in a breath. Then he’s pulling the clothing down to his knees with frantic haste. You didn’t expect him to take everything off so fast but there’s a sense of pride in how eager you’ve made him become in such a short time.

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn’t this. His cock is as beautiful as him. Pale and raging pink, crying at the tip much like his eyes. He’s also big, bigger than you knew dicks could be. You thought they’d be ugly, gross and worm-like. But his is clean and pretty. It’s your first time seeing one in person; you wouldn’t let him know that.

You take him bare in your hands, feeling him like a foreign object. More curious of his body than in his pleasure in the moment. His body tenses then relaxes against the couch. A shaky, breathy moan leaves his lips. His eyes flutter at the contact of skin.

You squeeze him, making his moan weakly again. It’s heavy in your hand. Truly just a stick of warm flesh. A part of you wants to squeeze him as hard as you can just to see if it can break, but you withhold on hurting him for now. Not wanting to scare him too much in hopes of exploring him further through the summer.

Your hand wraps around the length as much as it can, pads of fingertips brushing over every vein and curve as you slowly move your hand up and down. When your thumb circles around his tip and flicks the leaking hole, his body lurches forward with a loud cry of a moan from him. You wonder if he’ll cum in the next few seconds of simply touching him.

“I think you’re a slut for a little pleasure, Sunghoon.” You use your palm to gather his precum, circling over the tip to smear the thick cream around. Then you drag it back down himself, wetting his cock in his own prerelease. It slides easier now, your hand. You move faster, jerking him off in lazy, inexperienced motions. Not that he would know anyways. “You gave into lust so easily, didn’t you? Must’ve wanted this for so long. Your body’s nasty, eager for it.”

In his ears, you make the nasty words sound delicious. And he wants to devour more and more, like the starved man he is. His hips snap up into your hard, sudden and rough. You wrap your free arm over his shoulders, a hand sneaking up into his hair to tug aggressively on the thick dark locks. You’re pulling his head back, forcing him to look at you. “Don’t be a whore. I’m helping you. I didn’t say fuck my hand.”

“Ahsh- I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” he whines, tears burning his eyes, “it, it f-feels good. I feel so good.” His head falls to lean against yours, face burying into your hair. His head makes little shakes as he begins to cry, telling himself no, no.

“Shut up...” You don’t like how close he is to you. You only like doing so to tease him, but when he does it, it makes you feel a fiery anger in your chest and belly. Uncomfortable. Smothering.

Your hand works in sloppy motions. Pumping his pulsing cock to reach his orgasm. At the tip your wrist makes flicks with your thumb, working him up further and further.

He stutters out incoherent apologies into your hair throughout his sobs of wanton, whimpering moans. Everything about his body is sensitive to the new sensations. He can’t help but move his hips up into your hand, humping the small fist that’s fucking down onto him.

Confused by the warm, tight feeling flexing of his abdomen he whines against you, “I can’t- I can’t take it. My body feels weird now. Mmph, ‘m sorry. I don’t know what’s h-happening.” His body feels volcanic, ready to burst.

You continue your movements, jerking his reflexing length until he’s cumming into your hand. It’s a heavy load of thick, creamy mess. His voice is too close to your ear as he moans a drawn out needy sound. Your face remains plain while you pump him until he’s milked dry. His body flinches and curls into yours through the aftershocks, clearly overstimulated and over-sensitive. His arms snake around your waist to pull you against him.

You stare down at your hand that was earlier covered in the blood of a lamb and now the cum of a virgin. It looks like fucking snot, you realize with repulse. Without thinking you bring your hand up and lick the strange release. Your face scowls at the unknown taste so you just wipe the rest on your overalls. “You are disgusting,” you mutter.

Sunghoon remains silent aside from his sniffles, eyes peeking through his bangs to watch what you’re doing. He still hasn’t stopped clinging to your side, as if you could save him from his first lustful sin.

You push yourself up and off the couch, his body slightly falls to the side where he was leaning on you but he catches himself. He watches you with sad, scared eyes. You stare blankly in return then look out the window to see the group of men walking around the picnic table they ate at earlier.

“Farmhands will be leaving soon. Clean yourself up in the bathroom.” You don’t spare him another look, you just walk to the front door, unlock it, and leave. You ignore the way he looked like a sad abandoned puppy. Something about it angered you in the same way he was being clingy.

You walk back to your house with a slight skip to your steps. As you step through your front door, you’re about to head upstairs to your room but stop in your tracks because your mother speaks.

“Hate him all ya want,” your mothers words slur, she speaks slowly and tired-like, “but he was a good man. He used to love me… And then you came along.” You turn to the living room on your left where your mother lays on the couch, wine glass in hand and eyes heavy lidded. “I know what yer capable of. I’ve seen the things ya do on this farm, in this home.. When ya think no one is watching.. He just might be right about you.” You glare at her now. “There is something evil in ya, child. Leave that boy outta yer wickedness.”

Her wine glass falls to the floor from her fingers and she groans, turning to her side. You stare at her for a moment before walking up to your room.

Meanwhile Sunghoon spends his next 20 minutes in a spiral of guilt and shame. He cleans himself up in the restroom like you told him to. Then waits, watching outside the window for when the boys are gathered around the truck they drove in from the bus stop to leave in. It was hard for him to get the tears to end. He fell right into sin’s lustful trap and it made him feel so- No, it only made him feel hurt. Stupid. Bad.

On his bus ride back into the city he prays. Sitting in back, alone with his indignity, and head bowed low so no one could see his red rimmed, glossy eyes. Time goes by so fast that he nearly misses his stop to get off.

He ignores his roommate when he’s home. Jake, excited and curious of Sunghoon’s first day, is left cold. Sunghoon showers for longer than usual. He scrubs so harshly at his skin he turns red; unable to feel clean no matter how much he washes. He doesn’t eat dinner because he feels he doesn’t deserve to. He gets into bed earlier than most days too. He tries to sleep but the day haunts him, keeping him awake.

He’s up all night in tears, face in his pillow with the blanket thrown over his head, trying to hide from He who watches. The begs of forgiveness seem endless.

“Dear God,” he whimpers, “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” He doesn’t sleep much that night because he can’t find it in himself to stop humping into his mattress in hopes to chase and achieve the feeling you gave him earlier. His hips rock his aching hard cock into the bed, anguished yet titillated. “Please, forgive me. Forgive me. I’m so sorry.” He continues to cry, drowning in his pillow, knowing he will do it again.

　The next day on the farm is an early morning for everyone. Sunghoon sits quietly in the truck with the other summer volunteer farmharms. They talk amongst each other about the day’s schedule of duties and tasks. He struggles to keep his eyes open, head leaning against the window despite its bumps from the uneven dirt road. He thought about calling it quits on the whole job after yesterday, but couldn’t bring himself to. It’s for selfish reasons too. The ones that deepen his guilt.

The arrival to the farm is quicker than anticipated. Sunghoon forces himself to be more alert and awake, starting to pick up on the conversations between the others as he exits the parked truck.

“Do you think it’s still hanging there?” One says. “The lamb of slaughter?” Another dumbly asks with a snort. “Well yeah, dipshit. You guys think that girl did it? She was weird as hell.” A third voice chimes in, “Being covered in blood and then leaving a dead animal hanging from a tree is creepy as fuck. The lady was right, stay the hell away from her.” He laughs. The others walk away in continuous chatter, leaving Sunghoon by the truck.

Sunghoon is confused by this conversation and deeply disturbed. He doesn’t follow or press them with questions though. But it will give him much to think about for the day. He’s so exhausted from the lack of sleep, he wonders if he even heard them all correctly at all. Yeah, your whole introduction was strange but killing an animal and acting like nothing happened and then toying with him on the same day? Was all that really something a girl like you would do? He can’t say for sure because he doesn’t know you.

He goes about his morning tasks lazily. His mind is too busy with the thoughts of you. He thinks of when or if he’ll see you today. You haven’t shown around the farm all day. It’s only an hour before noon, he tries to rationalize with himself. He still ponders throughout his work. What time will you come? Will you mysteriously show up like yesterday? Will you touch him again? Will you let him feel good? Is he forgivable or going to burn in hell for wanting more?

He shakes his head to rid it of the thoughts. Perhaps he’s too hopeful. After lunch time he goes back to the farmers lodge to take a nap. At least that’s the realistic excuse he used. He struggles to even fall asleep because he’s so anxious about listening for any sound of you possibly coming back here.

His eyes, sullen and tired, just can’t stay open after half an hour of waiting. So eventually he does fall asleep. You never show up. When he wakes up from his long needed nap he somehow feels worse knowing you didn’t visit than he did committing his first sin.

The following day of work is a repeat. He doesn’t see you at all yet you occupy all of his thoughts. He thinks badly of himself for many reasons.

　On the fourth day, you finally decide it’s time to check up on the poor boy. You watched Sunghoon mope around the farm for two days and it was cute at first but you’re getting bored again. You did like how his eyes were always searching around, hopeful that every sound he heard from behind or around corners was you. Knowing you had such an effect on him made you wonder how much more you could do to him.

From the window of your room, you watch when they all arrive. Your mother greets them like she does in the mornings and gives them all tasks that need to be completed for the day. It’s Thursday which means she’ll be out for a few hours to go into town and sort out business for products: cow and goat milk processing for cheeses and soaps. At least you assume considering you overheard her phone call about such the day prior.

You spend the morning around the house, reading and snacking on fruits, waiting for your mother to leave so you can proceed with your plan. There was some effort into your appearance today. You wear a spaghetti strapped white babydoll dress, lined at the bottom with sewn embroideries. It’s simple and flows nicely above your knees when you walk. You hate it because it alludes to soft purity but at least it feels good to dress light in the summer heat. And it might make you all the more approachable to feeble Sunghoon.

After about an hour, your mother finally leaves. You give it about 10 minutes before you’re shoving on your boots and leaving the house. Some of the blood from earlier in the week still stains the brown leather; you did clean them off but clearly not to the best extent. You’re okay with that though, it seems prettier this way to you.

Looking and walking around the property, you see the scattered farmhands busy with different things. The sun isn’t kind today, it’s piercing in brightness and temperature. The sweat begins to seep from your pores in a matter of minutes, making you feel sticky. You run a hand through your tangled hair, fingers getting caught in unbrushed knots that you yank through anyways. You don’t see Sunghoon anywhere that’s directly under the sun. You continue to search around the farm, gaining a few cautious looks from the other workers. As you walk past their gazes you wear a wry smile with a tilt to your head. They look away quickly after being caught staring.

Some wandering in and out of the different barns and coops are done. He wasn’t in any of them though. You greet the animals you pass by and give pats to some of the cows. “Have you guys seen him nearby? I’m not a fan of hide and seek.” You mumble to one of the goats, scratching lightly beneath its chin while it chews away at grains and hay. It maas in return. You pull your hand back out from the stable then leave to continue the manhunt.

It’s when you’re walking by the horses’ stables that you see they’ve already been cared for, telling you that someone was here already. You glance to the smaller shed nearby, having a suspicious inkling that it's where Sunghoon is. You walk to the shed and see yourself inside. And he is. He has his back turned to you, standing at a work bench table and cleaning something off.

You walk up behind him, the sound of your footsteps being dulled by the scattered hay on the wooden floors; he doesn’t notice that you entered the space, clearly lost in his own thoughts. You tap his shoulder which makes him spin around in surprise, dropping the brushes he was cleaning.

Sunghoon’s eyes are wide at the sight of you standing so close to him. You can tell he’s lost sleep by the dark circles around his eyes and how his complexion is impossibly paler. His mouth is stuttering to find words, opening and closing.

You step closer to him and he steps back, his backside now pressing against the table. It wobbles on the uneven wooden stilts that hold it up. Reflexively, his hands reach back to hold onto the table, but he’s using it for his own stability. You simply stand there in between his legs, staring up at his face and taking in all the details that differ from the last time you saw him. He swallows, quietly watching your face in return.

“I haven’t seen you around.” Sunghoon speaks first, his voice a soft surrender. You feel his breath on your face.

“I know. I saw you though. You missed me.” You state bluntly, taking note of the little fangs he has for teeth. He probably bites good, you think, licking the back of your own teeth.

“If you saw me then why didn’t you…” he trails off into a quiet again, closing his eyes for a moment with a sigh. “I wouldn’t call it that.” His eyes open again as he feels your hands on his chest, sliding up his white tank and underneath the sleeves of his denim jacket to his shoulders. He bites down, suddenly stiff.

Ignoring his response you continue, “How can you wear this when it’s so warm out?” Your hands slide over his shoulders and down his toned arms, the jacket slips down to reveal the toned limbs. Your eyebrows raise at the sight yet your face remains relatively blank. “You’ve got muscle. Good for farm work.” Small hands continue to run over the smooth milk-like skin, learning every curve of his lean built physique. It’s not sexual, just exploratory.

Sunghoon sucks in a breath, watching you inspect him. He begins to feel flustered, relishing in the contact of skin on his. You notice his tense body and ask him if it’s okay, to which replies a raspy stutter, “Y-yeah.” Your hands slide down his arms and back up to his shoulders. Then down his chest and body to stop at the waistline of his jeans. He has a nice body; he must be athletic. You don’t care to ask in what ways. Your fingers dip into his jeans just slightly to pull him in closer to you, he gasps, his growing cock pressing against your stomach.

“Sunghoon,” You ridicule him, tsking under your breath at the pressure you feel of his arousal. “Already?” You look up at him but he can’t meet your eyes, feeling embarrassed. You play with the waistline, your fingertips running back and forth between the denim and his skin. “Is this sinning?” It’s a soft question yet mocking. He only shakes his head, nervously gnawing at his bottom lip. “Do you want to?” He whimpers, slowly nodding his head. You take your hands off him, crossing your arms. “You have to tell me. Look at me and tell me.”

He looks back at you dispirited. He knows that you know what he wants. And here you are making him admit it outloud, both to you and God. “Please.” He begs quietly, hoping it only reaches your ears and not the sky’s. “I want you.”

There’s that feeling again. The lit match that falls from your throat to the gasoline of your stomach that erupts in flames. Fire to your abdomen and loins; it’s an angry feeling, sparked by his honest admit of want, and for you specifically. You watch him with narrowed eyes while mumbling, “you revolt me.”

He doesn’t reply to your venomous insult. It stings to hear the degrading words in both his heart and pants; he thinks himself disgraceful too.

You drop to your knees, hands finding place back on his jeans to undo his zipper. He stares down at you in bated breath, hands still gripping tight on the table behind him. His are pulled down slowly, purposely so. You watch him writher, body and face. “Did you do it again?” you question, looking up at him from below. He would never avow to how the sight of you on your knees alone makes him ache all the more.

He wants to tear his eyes away from you but he can’t. The image of you in your white dress on the ground before him needs to be burned into his memory. He stutters a mumble of words but you don’t catch anything, if he even said a coherent response at all. You ask again, pinching his thigh. He tries to hum over the strained noise in the back of his throat, “Yes.. I mean no! B-but I didn’t touch myself.”

You try not to giggle, biting the inside of your cheek. Knowing he wanted to feel that way again but couldn’t on his own gave you a funny sense of power over him. One of your hands traces the outline of his hard cock through his boxer briefs. “You make a mess?” He shivers at the feeling of your breath on his suffocating length. He breathes out a ‘no’ while you lick a strip over the material. “Why not? I showed you how.”

He moans softly, trying not to let his hips chase after the feeling that he’s been after for days. “You know I can’t,” he exhales. You roll your eyes, mouthing and licking at him languidly. Your hands are still half tugging at the material that keeps him hidden. A faint pool of precum quickly stains his boxers.

“Sunghoon,” you look up at him with your chin resting on the bulge. He swallows hard, acknowledging you with a hum. “You will never be free from it. The sin I let you taste will forever linger on the tip of your tongue, begging and licking to taste more in crave. No holy blessed water can possibly cleanse you even if you drown in it.”

His bottom lip pouts out with a little droning whine. He should defend himself, say that his faith is stronger than he is and that his soul is saveable by mercy. But a part of him also feels that doesn’t want to be. His eyes begin to well with tears.

“Not even a god could make you pure again,” you give him a small smile and pat his naked thigh before pulling down his underwear. His cock now free slaps his stomach to which he breathes out heavily. You grab him with both hands, giving him one last look before taking the leaking head into your mouth. Hands working on him steadily.

“T-that’s dirty!” he leans forward with a low sounding moan, his hands on your head and in your hair. Your eyes go wide at this. “Why would you put that in your mouth?!” he gasps, the warm wetness around his tip making him dizzy. “This is so vulgar, oh God, forgive me.” he cries, not pulling your mouth off of him but holding you there.

You circle your tongue around the tip and over his leaking slit, licking the beads of precum that leak out. It makes your grimace before you lean back, a wet pop as your mouth leaves. “Enough of your penitence, and take your hands off me.” It sounds like a warning to which he complies without question, only a hushed apology. He’s the one who wants to be touched anyways, not you.

You take him into your mouth again, your lips wrap around him in a painful stretch to accommodate his size. He sits heavy on your tongue that lays flat underneath, doing what you can with it. Your hands at the base work around him, jerking and squeezing him like you did before. You weren’t really sure what you were doing, mainly just mocking the actions you read about in books. It seems to be working for Sunghoon regardless because he can barely hold himself together. Whining and whimpering through fat tears, whole body shuddering from the overwhelming wet heat of your mouth.

His jaw goes slack, mouth hung open only to elicit a breathless moan. His head rolls back on his neck and his eyes flutter to a close. The feeling of your mouth wrapping around him is hot heaven. His body trembles with the new, sweeping sensation. Stomach already tight with contracting muscles. He thinks he could pass out.

Watching his face, him, discover and feel pleasurable sin is slightly euphoric to you. You’ve seen it in movies and read of it in books, but it was something you never quite fully explored yourself. There’s been a few instances that you did touch yourself; it always felt empty or like something was always missing. There’s little to no excitement when doing it alone in shameful hiding. Witnessing, causing such debauchery is different somehow. Safer in ways you didn’t dwell in thought on. You do wish he would stop crying about it, you find it pathetic of him in a provoked way.

Involuntarily, he thrusts himself down your throat with a guttural groan. You gag and cough around him, tears sting your eyes that make you squeeze them shut—refusing to let a single one dare to escape. Now it felt like a challenge. One to which you wouldn’t back down in fear of looking weak.

Your hands hold his thighs roughly, bruisingly so if you had the strength. You move his body in a small back and forth motion, encouraging him to continue his movements. You’re looking up at him with glazed over eyes and a slight nod. He chokes a sob at the sight, you on your knees not to pray but to devour him.

“Ah, I- I’m sorry. Your mouth is so wet, so warm.” He starts off with shallow thrusts, dragging his cock along your wet muscle. His hips stutter while his world seems to be crashing down. “This is so dirty. You look so dirty. And—ngh—it’s.. it’s so good. It’s so good,” he babbles, pushing himself as far down into your mouth as he can. His tip kisses the back of your throat making you gag around him. Your nails digging into the flesh of his strong legs. He can’t stop moaning and whimpering, becoming a slave to pleasure.

He watches your face. Hollowed cheeks sucking and swallowing around him, the tightness of your throat around him hugging and contracting through chokes that reverberate your body to his cock. The spit that leaks from your lips and all over him is obscene, such a sinful mess. He so badly wants to grab your head and force himself down further, but his nails dig into the wood of the table instead.

“Hm, I can’t—” he moans your name, thrusting rougher now. His whole body crumbling in on itself, chasing the feeling of release.

Then there’s the sound of footsteps and a few voices that follow. Sunghoon sucks in a deep breath, taking a fist to his mouth to bite down onto. He looks at you in fear because of the proximity of the other farmhands right outside. This only makes you smirk around him, a glint of evil in your eyes. He shakes his head hurriedly, stopping his movements—as if that would make you both disappear.

You push yourself off his cock, licking over your cracked and saliva covered lips. You bring a finger to your lips and shush him. “Be quiet or they’ll find out what a nasty whore you are. Unless you want that.” Your voice is quiet and raspy from the abuse of him fucking himself down your throat. You stare into his eyes intently before taking him back in. He glances from you to the door of the shed, his body shaking.

You slurp and suck him up, purposely loud and sloppy. A hand jerking off the base that doesn’t quite fit in your mouth. He cries quietly with his mouth open, meek and desperate sounds escape that he can’t withhold. “Please…” He’s whimpering, begging for something that he doesn’t know the context of.

“Do you think the extra feed is in this one?” A voice questions, the door being opened just a crack.

Sunghoon quickly tries to bend down for his jeans but you slap his hand away, pushing him back into the table. You grip his thighs and force yourself to take all of him down. You gag around him, eyes never leaving his panicky and fucked out face. His face silently begs for you that enough is enough but you don’t stop, because a part of you knows he doesn’t want you to either.

“It doesn’t hurt to check, does it?” The other replies with a light chuckle. “Could take a break for some shade too while we’re at it.” The door opens slowly with an agonizing creak, sunlight barely pouring.

Each passing second feels like an eternity to him. The door is still only cracked, not enough for them to see inside but it’s cutting it close. His cock twitches at the thought of being caught with his dick down the throat of the farmer’s daughter. A blazing adrenaline rushes through him.

Sunghoon can’t bear it any longer. His hands find purchase on the back of your head, pushing himself completely into your mouth. His hips stutter with a whimper on his lips as the hot cum pours down your throat. “Ah, sh- ngh!” You smack at his legs for him to release the hold, choking for air to breathe. You instinctively swallow around him, consuming his load of sin.

“You dumbass! The horses are already fed, let’s just go for a water break.” The door slams back on itself to a close. Their footsteps can be heard walking away.

Sunghoon breathes heavily, letting go of you. His body instantly relaxing back with his elbows on the table to support him. Meanwhile you fall onto your ass, a hand around your throat while you gasp for air through rough coughs. “What the fuck did I say about putting your hands on me?” You rasp before coughing again. The taste of him sits on the back of your tongue no matter how much you swallow.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “we shouldn’t get caught.” He pulls his pants and boxers back up then extends a hand to you, an offering to help you stand back up.

You scoff, ignoring his hand and stand up on your own. You brush the dirt and stray strands of hay from your knees. “Whatever. We both got what we wanted.” You start to turn for the door to leave the shed with the thought of brushing your teeth in mind.

Sunghoon, confused as to what you could’ve gotten out of helping him, just reaches for your hand. He grabs you and pulls you back to look at him. His eyes are sad, maybe even a little afraid by your haste to leave. “Y-you’re just going to leave me again?” He sounds broken by the fact.

“What?” You can’t help but breathe a laugh, “Did you expect me to do more?” You ask with raised brows.

“No! No, not like that.. But..” He swallows his pride, “I- I don’t know. Just don’t leave yet. Please.”

You blink at him, scanning his features like a robot in calculation. The pleading of his expression and his words aggravate you. A fiery burning to your insides and the skin that he touches, that he reached for. You look down to his tight grip on your hand before yanking it away. You don’t say anything more, and neither does he. He wipes his eyes from whatever salty wetness is still there.

A moment of silence solidifies your decision. You beckon him to follow you out and he does.

For the rest of his work day you remain. You try not to think about why. But subconsciously you know it’s because for the first time someone willingly wants to be by your side. At first you imagine it’s because of what you’ve done for him—gave him what any man desires: pleasure. A man falling into temptation is far too easy.

Though he doesn’t ask for more and he doesn’t bring it up. Almost like it never happened.

It seems like he really just wants to be around you. There’s little said between each other. It’s just idle farm work with company. And it’s more peaceful than you expected it to be. He didn’t touch you, question you, or do much at all to bother you in general.

Sometimes he stares at you, but you do the same to him. He even gives a sheepish smile when he catches you; it doesn’t get returned. That doesn’t bother him though. He thinks you look beautiful on the farm in your dress with dirt covered hands and hair messy from the wind. He hopes to tell you that one day but for now he stays shy, still weary and afraid.

The sun shines relentlessly unless a cloud mercifully passes by. The breeze is rare yet kind. The animals make their sounds to sing a collective song. The trees and crops sway like waving hands of hellos and goodbyes, depending on where you’re headed to or from. It’s not so bad.

　Two weeks go by. Time flies by for both you and Sunghoon. He comes to work during the week, and he spends his weekends missing you. He doesn’t know what you two are to each other, and he’s too scared to ask. There’s definitely been changes to the dynamic, however. Subtly so. You still don’t smile, or let him touch you. You roll your eyes and insult him if he’s too emotional. But you’re there.

Certainly not everyday, but most, you spend his work days with him. It’s easier to be around one another. There can be small talk, usually about the farm or the weather. Still much to be learned about on a personal level, but he’s fine with the pace of the relationship (outside of the unholy acts that are committed). Sometimes you even end up helping him. Or at least he thinks of it that way. In reality you don’t like how he does things and take over to do it yourself.

You still tease him in your cruel ways. Always ending with him in a mess because he’s easily worked up by your handsy curiosity. He caves into you every time because he can’t fight the divinity that you show him.

There are other times where you confuse him. You suggest a water break knowing he’d gone hours without hydration under the summer heat. You insist on having him take a break under a roof away from the sun when his skin gets too sweaty or red. Which is followed by a reminder that sunscreen is important if he wishes to keep his milky complexion. It’s critical statements that you provide him, but he can’t help to think it’s a weird way of showing you care.

Sure, it could be seen as you selfishly saying these things because it’s what you want for yourself, but in the back of his mind he’s very aware of how you watch and cater to him. It makes his heart jump every time and butterflies swarm his stomach. He can’t help it. The little things, the small acts of kindness—that you might not even intend—make him delusionally overthink.

On the third weekend since starting his summer job, Jake can’t help all the questions he’s been building up and dying to ask. Jake doesn’t understand what Sunghoon has been going through, especially when his moods change so drastically. At first, Sunghoon was self isolating and pouty, clearly in his own head and sulking. But then he would come home from work beaming with an afterglow to his aura. And then on the weekends he was back to his reclusive, depressed state.

Sick of being left out of Sunghoon’s inner turmoil, Jake finally pesters his friend.

“When are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Jake stands in the doorway of Sunghoon’s room, staring at his friend who’s laying face down in his bed.

“I don’t know…” Sunghoon’s words are muffled in his pillow.

Jake walks in with a sigh and sits at the end of the bed. He playfully slaps Sunghoon’s leg. “Dude, just tell me. You’re obviously going through something. You know I can keep a secret. I won’t judge.”

Sunghoon rolls over on his back, his hands clasped together over his stomach as he stares up to the ceiling. He confides in Jake, telling his story from the beginning of when he first met you. He stutters over his words when he admits to the sinful acts he partook in with you. He tells Jake of his guilty conscience and how he enjoyed indulging in the feelings. Then he tells Jake about how he simply likes your company even without the sexual circumstances involved. How he’s mystified by your complex personality and only wishes to know you more. However, he does leave out the viciousness of your nature, since a part of him doesn’t quite believe in it.

“It seems like you’re starting to develop a crush.” Jake laughs lightly, “And if it’s about religion, don’t overthink it too much. Nobody dies completely pure.” He reassures him. “You should show her more of you. That you like her too.”

Sunghoon groans and covers his face at the terrifying suggestion. If only you were that easy to approach in such a vulnerable way. “I guess… I’ll consider it.”

The next day is Sunday. Jake and Sunghoon attend church as normal. Sunghoon participates less in his prayers and songs than usual. His mind is too preoccupied with all he has going on in life. He feels guilt and frustration.

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

You’re never as alone as you think you are if you take a better look around. Everyone is riddled with their own self disgust, guilt, or shame. How else would the churches be so full?

　Entering the fourth week of summer should feel easier than it does for Sunghoon. The work seems to be picking up regarding responsibilities. The weather is only becoming less forgivable. The peak is yet to hit, but that only means the seasonal storms are right around the corner. More care is needed in the fields and barns in terms of protection in case of unpredictable weather.

Aside from the work, Sunghoon is anxious because of you. He hasn’t seen you yet today and he feels nervous about it. Perhaps he has grown too clingy, finding close comfort in knowing you’re there with him on the farm. There’s a sense of safety when you’re in the line of sight; you make things easier for him and he enjoys the presence.

While he’s watering plants and checking the sprinklings through the fields, an older man approaches him. It’s a familiar face that he’s seen around a few times over the past month. The man waves with a smile and Sunghoon does the same.

“It’s amazing what you’ve done, boy.” The man begins, Sunghoon questions where he’s going with the start because he’s just an extra hand of help and doesn’t feel he’s accomplished or improved the farm in drastic ways. “I’ve worked here, hm, well I’ll be damned! Nearly 15 years! And I’ve never once seen that farm girl talk to anyone. Much less spend time.” the man chuckles.

“Oh!” Sunghoon blushes and hopes it’s only mistaken as feverish from the summer. He smiles small and stares down to the bundle of plants he brought with him to the farm today. He feels special knowing this much of you. “She’s something…”

“Sometimes I’d see her talk to herself and the animals.” The man pulls out a cigarette and lighter to smoke. “She’d walk around aimlessly like a ghost. Used to scare the hell outta me.” As he laughs, smoke escapes his lungs. He wheezes a little before continuing, “But now she follows and watches you like she’s worshipin’. If only she did the same with her daddy. Although with a face like yours, I can’t blame the girl.”

“Pardon? What do you mean by that?” Sunghoon, bemused, watches the man smoke and laugh between weak coughs. “She has a dad?” His last question is overroad by the man who speaks over him.

“You keep up your work, kid. I outta get back to mines too.” And then he’s walking away with a low chuckle, shaking his head to himself.

Sunghoon’s aware of your mother. He always thought it was just the two of you running things. He’s never once seen a man, your father, leave the house or so much so be around it. This gives him more to think about, especially on the fact that he still doesn't know much about you at all. You’re still an enigma to him, but he wants everything.

By the afternoon when all the guys are finishing up their break, you finally come out of the house. With the sound of the front door opening, Sunghoon is quick to straighten his posture and find your eyes. You’re already looking at him, watching him and his surroundings with no expression. His cheeks burn and he can’t help the smile forming on his lips.

Two and a half days without seeing you feels like so much longer.

He stands up from the picnic table, grabbing his newspaper wrapped bundle of greenery and shyly hiding it behind his back. He walks over to you, tripping over his feet as he approaches the porch steps to the house. You stand there in front of the door but at the top of the few stairs, arms crossed and amused.

He’s diffident, arms behind him and modestly attempting to hide how nervous he feels on the inside. His stomach is doing flips, his heart racing. On top of already sweating. He feels like he could throw up his lunch right in front of your feet. He swallows thickly before slowly bringing his hands out in front of himself.

“I,” he clears his throat, “ehem, I got these for you.” With outstretched arms, the bundle of flowers shake in his trembling hands. He suddenly feels he’s too nervous to even meet your eyes, so he watches the chipped paint wood of the front porch steps.

You just stand there, watching him with wide eyes and your heart in your throat. Your mouth is lost for words, glancing around at the few farmhands who haven’t left yet and are staring at Sunghoon’s exchange in a similar bewilderment. Some are trying to keep themselves from bursting out into laughter.

“Are you some kind of stupid?” You whisper harshly for only him to hear, snatching the flowers out of his hands. “Why the hell would you do this?” Your words like your tone are mean, but in your chest there’s a raging pounding. It’s a seething raw emotion that doesn’t know how to be dealt with. You’ve only just stepped out of the house and your body feels like it’s inside a furnace.

Sunghoon’s head shoots back up to look at you, his face and heart drop. “I-I’ve never had a girlfriend before so I wasn’t sure what to do.. This is what boyfriends do, right?” He takes a hand to scratch at the back of his head. Inner turmoil takes over and he thinks he’s fucked up. He bites at his lip, doing his best not to instantly cry in regret.

You notice this and sigh, irritated. You look from the neatly wrapped white roses and tulips and back to Sunghoon. “So you are stupid,” you mumble before taking your own bottom lip between your teeth. A part of you wants to sneer, but you spin on your heels to hide the warmth that floods your face in substitution. “I’m throwing them away,” you announce, opening the door and walking back inside your house.

Sunghoon, broken, just drops his head and turns back. A few of the farmhands are snickering from not too far away, chattering among each other and eyeing Sunghoon. He wishes God would smite him on the spot from the humiliation.

Wanting to avoid everything for a little while, he thinks of heading to the lodge to lay down in hiding. But before he can walk away, the front door of your house swings open once more. He glances back at you, meeting your eyes like he always seems to do.

“Done for the day already?” You call over to him, now leaning over the banister of the porch with crossed arms.

Sunghoon, unable to refute you, offers a weak smile and shakes his head. “No.”

He walks back over to you and you meet him halfway. You don’t say anything else. You don’t bring up the fact that he had bought you flowers or confused the odd relationship you share for dating. It’s cute in all its blind innocence, but that just goes to show you that you have more work to do with him.

You don’t think of messing with him today. He’s distinctly grown too clingy with how much time you’ve spent with him. Yet you can’t ignore him either. The two of you carry out the rest of the day’s farm work in silence. The inner fury you feel with him doesn’t seem to go away, despite how he hasn’t said much or even brushed skin with you.

You don’t know how you’re remaining pacific by his side. The rampaging of your heart strings tug like a screaming instrument just from being next to him. How he can keep walking tall, stare at you when he thinks you aren’t looking, or even smile at you is beyond what you know is capable of humans. Men like him only existed in books and movies. You wonder if he’s perhaps playing a game like you.

By the time he’s in the truck to go back to town to catch a bus into the city, you’re sitting at the lake dock. Criss crossed legs, a bouncing knee, and fingernails being ripped at by your teeth. You stare blankly at the water, hoping for that sense of serenity to encapsulate you. It never seems to come. It just feels cold.

So you decide on punishing him for making you feel this way.

You don’t leave your house for the next three days. You don’t make yourself known, heard or seen. However, you’re peeking out every window of your house to get any chance of a view of him. You hate yourself for being so curious of him in the first place. What was supposed to be good fun has only left you feeling angry. Taking his innocence was never going to heal you, or even make him like yourself. In fact, it’s making you sicker.

And on the night of the fourth Thursday, you’re laying in bed staring at your ceiling. A stuffed animal is hugged tightly to your chest. You can’t sleep and you can’t stop thinking about someone for the first time in your life. No amount of tossing and turning, counting sheep, or button presses to your distorted singing, stuffed bear made it easier.

Somehow, you ended up punishing yourself. You always had a knack for that, historically, but this time felt different. It actually kind of hurt. Being alone came naturally to you, but tonight it hits you just how lonely you’ve always been.

　Friday, the farmhands are huddled on the front porch of your house. All the animals are safely away in their designated homes thanks to their help. It started to storm in a heavy downpour only minutes ago. What started out as a dark gray gloom and windy rain quickly turned into an early flooded property, illuminated by strikes of flashing lightning and roaring thunder.

You stand dry under the protection of the porch roof by the front door. Watching and listening to your mother suggest the shaking cold, soaked men take shelter in the lodge until the sky lets up so they can head home.

Sunghoon hasn’t spared a look to you all day, but you know that he feels his eyes on you. It’s in the way he shifts awkwardly amongst the men that ignore him. How his eyes are trained low and unfocused yet always trying to move in your direction. His wet hair falls over his face, concealing his emotions you wish to dissect. He comes off as stoic but you know he wears his heart on his sleeve; how his body language speaks volumes.

Your mother pushes past you to get back inside, saying she’ll check the basement for a spare heater that the boys could use at the lodge. There’s something in you that makes you move without thinking. Suddenly a hand is tugging at the bottom of Sunghoon’s damp jacket for his attention. The material is too thin for this weather and the thought of him becoming sick crosses your mind.

“It’s warmer here,” your words, for once, came out soft. Too much so, being lost in the cracking sound of thunder. He looks at you through his bangs. The wave of alleviation from whatever he was dealing with is palpable. His eyes and body almost look relaxed. You tug him towards you once more, insinuating that he follows you.

He does. Like whatever subconscious emotion made you approach him also made him follow you in. As he steps in, he notices the indistinguishable vibes of the farmer’s lodge. It’s updated and cleaner, but similar in aesthetics. A shotgun sits leaning up against the wall by the front door. His brows furrow and eyes narrow. “Those aren’t safe to have lying around…” he mumbles.

You tug him towards the staircase to walk up, “It’s protection. Only my mother and I are here,” is mumbled back as you lead him up the wooden, creaking stairs. Your feet move light and quick, like a mouse in a home not theirs. If your mother saw you, there would be unnecessary consequences. And the possibility of your father’s involvement would only worsen such.

Sunghoon cautiously steps into your bedroom, his body tenses at the sound of you shutting and locking the door. He feels on edge, wrapping his arms around his shivering body and soaked clothes. You move around him to sit on your bed, telling him to remove his sopping attire. He does so with shaking hands, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. He shyly looks around the room while using his hands to cover his manhoon.

His eyes scan over you, sitting quietly on your bed with a look of contemplation that stares past him. A wooden cross hangs on the wall above your bed, the dark wood matches the decadent bed frame. The nightstand nearby has a pile of books and journals with a low light lamp and unlit candle.

The large window has sheer white curtains drawn open and a vase on the windowsill. A glass vase filled with the flowers he gave you earlier in the week. His heart aches at the sight of the still healthy white roses and tulips, and a smile graces his lips. You liar! You kept them! Is what runs through his thoughts.

Without Sunghoon realizing, you got up to grab a towel and drape over the back of his shoulders. He’s taken aback by your ghost-like actions, but offers you a small smile of appreciation. “Thanks…”

You nod for response and glance from him to the vase of flowers he was lost in thought over. You didn’t have it in to explain yourself, mostly because you didn’t understand why you had done so either.

He dries himself off and finds a place to sit at the end of your bed. You’re on the other end with your back pressed to the headboard, watching him, counting every mole you can find on his pale canvas. The stuffed animal you sleep with is being mindlessly fumbled around in your hands.

Sunghoon turns to face you directly, he reaches a hand out, eyes shifting from your face and the winged bear. You shoot him a mean look at first, only holding it closer to yourself before your face softens to slowly extend it out to him.

He takes it with careful hands and looks down to inspect the old toy. Its cream colored fur is dirtied and matted with age. The holographic satin wings on the back have loose stitching and its halo is crooked. Across the chest of the bear reads ‘Jesus Loves Me’ but it’s obvious the sewn name Jesus has been ripped away at. One paw has a red heart embroidered saying ‘press me’. His thumb brushes over the button heart before pressing down. The bear sings in a distorted happy voice the lullaby of Jesus loves me.

“His name is Saint Michael,” you say quietly and he almost doesn’t catch it. Sunghoon can only breathe a laugh because he finds the dichotomy cute. You almost laugh too, but bite your tongue and look back to your empty hands. You don’t know it but he can see you try to fight your little smile. To him, this moment means more than anything; he’s starting to see you’re more tender than you realize. It brings him a sense of surety in knowing that he can break you like you to do him.

Silly as it may seem for a troubled girl, the bear was the only comfort you had throughout childhood. There was no kindness from your father, no solace from your mother, no guide in knowing life or love. But there was Saint Michael, the stuffed angel bear; he may not have defended you in battle but he hugged you back, and that was enough to cherish him like a deity.

Sunghoon crawls across the bed and sits himself next to you, too close for your liking, but you don’t push him away. He hands the stuffie back to you and you place it on the nightstand to face away from you. You lower yourself in the bed, shuffling under the covers of the blanket and he does the same. His skin naked bare yearns for more warmth, yours specifically.

You feel him turn on his side next to you, pressing up against you despite there being enough space on the bed. His movements are awkward and nervous like he is. You feel a certain pressure against your thigh that isn’t his bones or limbs. You spare him a glance, he doesn’t know if it’s a warning or dare.

“...Have I ruined you?” You wonder aloud, looking back to the ceiling.

“No,” he answers quickly, shaking his head against your shoulder. The way he’s missed you in his desire to touch you, hands tingling with want to snake around your waist and pull you in tight. “I think I just want you all the time now. I can’t help it, m’sorry.” He sounds ashamed in his soft mumbles.

“I’ll only keep stripping all that purity from you. Once it’s mine it’ll remain mine, you know that right?” You look back at him before brushing some of his drying hair from his eyes. He tries to lean up into the touch but your hand is taken back. “And I will pretend it’s healing all that’s missing from me. Do you really want to be mine, Sunghoon?” Your words are so gentle yet laced with threat.

“Yes,” he exhales, “I want to be yours. Let me be yours please.” It’s hushed, a secret prayer with hope. His hips push further into the skin of your leg, where the hip meets the thigh. He wouldn’t mind going to Hell if it meant more time with you.

“You beg like a needy barn animal in heat.” You use a hand to cup his face, he sighs into the hold as he eyes flutter to a close. You push your leg in between his, terribly close to his exposed and vibrating body. “So hump me like one.”

“W-what?” he stutters out before licking over his lips, his thighs squeezing around the plush of yours now trapped in his. His eyes already wet with desperate want, staring back at yours.

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

A cracked voice whine falls from his lips and he begins to roll his growing bulge against you. You watch as he sucks in breaths between quiet breathy moans. His pink, plump lips pursing and falling open. His eyes try to stay on your face, how close you are to him, but they fall shut sometimes in his basking of rapture. It’s a slutty sight of a faith-sickened boy.

He loves the little to no proximity that there is. His hands find place on your waist, and he’s aware of how that makes you feel, but he can’t stop it. He wants more and more of you. His hands slide up under your shirt, the feeling on your bare skin in his hands makes his body shudder. Untouched, warm flesh for his large hands to explore and learn every curve of.

Even you stiffen at his exploration, holding in your breath as if you’ve forgotten how to breathe. Your shirt lifts up more with his hands and the exposure is daunting like you’re revealing your insides.

The pit of your stomach lights up and you're frozen under his clutch. The pads of his fingers hold you so tight as if he’s scared you’ll disappear. His cock is raging and you can feel every pulse of blood that his heart beat floods to. He’s humping into you desperately, chasing the euphoria that he could never find on his own. Such a delicate, shy boy now driven by lust and longing.

“You’re pathetic and disgusting. You’re practically fucking me through our clothes,” you murmur while you try to push his hands down off you, but his grip won’t let up. Instead his nails dig further into you, a barely sounding broken noise escapes you from the pain. This makes his body collapse further into you, his head dropping between your shoulder and neck. His movements are sloppy and rushed.

“N-no, I’m still good. You make me feel good, I am so good,” he whines, tears beginning to fall from his eyes to your shoulder. You try to imagine his holy water is washing you clean but it only singes.

“Tell me that only I make you feel good, that you’re only good for me.”

“Only you—can only be you to make me good,” he cries against your warmth, rocking himself into you roughly. His leaking cock begins to twitch against you and his hips won’t quit their stuttered jerks.

You hum lightly and run a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He looks up at you with those desperate, wet, dark eyes and you can’t help but acknowledge how pretty he is like this. His puffy cheeks are flushed pink as the tip of his nose. “Only for me,” you mumble.

“Yes, thank you, I am yours. Yes.” His breaths are jagged and heavy. There’s a coiling in his abdomen that feels borderline explosive. You were right, he craves this feeling. It’s surreal to him how he’s gone so long without it. His arms wrap around you completely now, holding you down while his body rolls on top of yours, situated between your legs. His heart hammers against your chest; he wants to mold into you, to become a singular rot.

You squeak a gasp, being caged down by him. Your heart beats with the same veracity. One of your arms wraps around his waist to hold his back while the other holds the back of his head that hasn’t left the safety of your neck. He continuously sobs through meek moans. His hair tickles your skin like sparks while his lips brush over your jaw and neck making the tingle feel like crackling flames.

Under his weight you feel yourself slipping in both confidence and dominance, your body wanting to sink down in submission from the unknown comfort of his control. Your heart aches and you feel something you’ve never felt before. You think you’re scared of it, yet your body pulls him closer. Hand in his hair, tugging with fearful aggression. Nails piercing the skin of his shoulder blade. You’re pliant under his heavy thrusts and sounds of sin.

The rain pours harder outside with whips of harsh winds smacking the window. It’s almost like God’s wrath is screaming to be seen, to shout that He is watching.

Sunghoon’s hard cock is relentless against your core. The rough grind of him is stimulating in ways you’ve never felt before, your body sensitive and starving for more. You squeeze your eyes shut and moan within your closed mouth, hating yourself for feeling this way because it was never supposed to be about you. You are betraying yourself more than your fathers.

The sounds you try to withhold make Sunghoon weaker. He feels uncontrollable, only becoming needier and hungrier with his movements, “I can’t stop. I can’t stop.” He whines, begging for you to vocalize how you feel it too.

You feel like you’re breaking underneath him, and it feels shameful. Like every harsh word your father ever spat at you was true now that you’re a part of the experience and not just the cause. Everything is too much. It takes every ounce of strength you have to turn both of your bodies over. Now sitting up on top of his lap, you can finally breathe again, sighing in relief. He whimpers at the distance between you both but also from the view of you.

He moans your name softly as he grips your hips, pushing himself up into your clothed pussy like he’s fucking you. Your hands push down on his shoulders. You stare into his eyes with a plain expression and contrasting sharp eyes, grinding your hips back down on top of him. It’s hard to ignore the way it makes you feel, watching him fall apart beneath you as his pulsing cock fucks against you, but you manage.

“Cum for me,” you demand quietly, “make a mess and imagine it’s inside me.”

“Holy fu—ngh,” his entire body spasms and shudders with a low groan falling from his open lips. His movements slow down only to become lazier and uncoordinated. You can feel the warm wetness he spills soak through your thin pajama shorts and underwear.

“You’re right. You are good for me,” you coo softly, cupping his face and using your thumbs to wipe away the tears. Your hips circle and swivel slowly on him until his quivering cock finishes cumming.

Sunghoon has a sparkle to his wet eyes. The way the gentle praise left your lips makes him melt, and he can’t stop the flickering glance between your eyes and lips. He breathes heavily through his post clarity. Still he basks in your touch with a hopeful look in his eyes. His tongue slides over his lips before he’s leaning up towards your face, hands affixed to your waist to pull you closer to him.

This makes a wave of panic wash over you, knowing what he wants to do. You shake your head no and pull yourself away, slipping off of his lap only to turn away from him.

“None of that. It’s not what-”

And then there’s a press of lips to your cheek. Your face burns as if a hot coal was what kissed your face. Your eyes go wide, turning to see the boy sitting up next to you. He only wears a shy smile as he sees your reaction.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a week now,” he admits with a small laugh. “Not exactly there but that’s fine. I wish you would let me help you feel good too.” he whispers, looking back to the windowsill where the gifted flowers stood in their vase with the raging storm as their backdrop.

“That’s dumb and I don’t need to,” you reply, still watching him stare forward. Your chest feels painful; it’s an ache like shattered glass trying to piece together in the wrong ways. Stabbing but trying.

“I think you deserve to,” he argues. “But I understand if it’s not what you want. I was really touchy and I shouldn’t have been because you don’t seem like it. I was too caught up in the moment.” His mind goes to the mess he’s still sitting in and he feels self-conscious all over again. “Is it embarrassing how much I need you?”

You blink at him, swallowing the words that were never going to come out because you didn’t even know what they should or would be. So you settle with a simple, “No.”

You think it would kill you to admit how much you actually always wished to be wanted, needed, or loved. A bigger part of you didn’t think you were worthy of it, let alone capable. The world had such a way of saying otherwise. Until it brought Sunghoon to you; the boy who showed you feelings and experiences you never thought possible.

As if he could read your mind, he asks, “Why did you choose me out of everyone?” He falls back onto the bed, laying down and pulling the blanket over himself.

“I think you reminded me of a lamb.”

“Pardon?” His brows furrow.

You lay back down next to him, facing him like he is to you. “Pretty, white, and docile. You were so nervous when I first saw you—sometimes you still are.” You even laugh a little. “When you shook my hand I knew I could do anything to you because you’d let me.”

“You think I’m pretty?” He smiles wide, scooting closer to you.

You scoff with an eye roll, leaning further away from him. “Oh shut up, you’ve seen a mirror.”

And then it’s his turn to laugh a little. He looks at you like you’re the reason the sun rises and falls. It kind of hurts you to see him like this because it reminds you of your initial rotten intentions and how they’re dissipating the more you’re with him.

Time passes faster than the two of you realize. There’s light banter and easy conversations. You learn more about Sunghoon. Where he goes to school, what he studies, and who his friends are. He tells you of the sports he used to do and what he does in free time with his best friend. The more you learn about him, the more you understand his naivety and how despite what you’ve done, he won’t change. There’s something lovely about it.

You don’t have much to share about your life the way he does, at least not in the same light. But you show him your favorite books, drawings you made over the years, and share the stories of movies you found interesting. He savors the moment of you simply confiding, enjoying the more he can know about you.

The storm passes later in the evening. So caught up in borrowing time, the rain has slowed down to a simple pitter patter. The clouds dispersed and the setting sun only came through to say goodbye to the day.

The sound of the truck that the farmhands use to take back to town is heard roaring to life, signalling you and Sunghoon that it’s safe and time to head out.

Sunghoon jumps out of bed but by the time he’s shoving himself into his still damp jeans and looking out the window, the truck is already speeding down the dirt, now mud riddled road.

“They just left without me,” he breathes out. “I’m used to them leaving me out, but t-this is.. How am I going to get home?” He looks back to you with sad eyes, not the light they had earlier. He’s not shocked by their actions, but he is disappointed. A hand runs through his hair in his stress.

“Should I kill them?” Your question is brazen, body and voice eerily still in your seriousness.

“W-what?!” he whispers in shock, freezing for a moment.

“I’m joking.” You sit up and watch Sunghoon resume getting dressed. “I think you should head back to the lodge for the night. There’s a washer and dryer for your clothes. And spare food for dinner too.”

Sunghoon nods slightly, “your jokes are weird, but okay.” He looks like he’s thinking of something, taking his bottom lip between his teeth in thought before speaking again. “Can you stay with me for the night at least?” he asks shyly.

“No,” comes out quicker than you intended. “...But I guess I can walk with you there.”

He nods again but now with his signature small dimpled smile. You almost forgot about being angry at the other farmhands for taking it away.

You have to make sure the coast is clear before leaving the house. You tiptoe down the halls and stairs, weary of where your mother is inside the house. To your luck, she’s in her usual state. She’s passed out on the couch with two empty bottles of wine on the floor. The television volume is low, playing a rerun of the reverend’s sermon; the devil himself of your childhood, preaching about how he lost his child to the otherside.

With a finger to your lips, you silently signal for Sunghoon to be quiet and to follow you out.

Once safely out of the front door, you take his hand in yours and start running for the lodge. The tall boy is behind you, so you don’t get to see the bright smile on his lips or in his eyes as you run through the light run towards the lodge.

Now standing in the front doorway of the farmer’s lodge, wet from the sky all over again and still hand in hand, Sunghoon bravely speaks up.

“I don’t like it when you disappear on me,” he breathes out shakily, honestly. “Nobody else sees me like you do,” he squeezes your hand tighter in his, feeling you begin to pull away. “Come with me into the city tomorrow. We can- I’m not sure yet, but I’m sure I want more time with you.”

His eye contact is unwavering, begging. Both of his strong hands hold onto yours. You glance from your hand then back to his pleading expression. He will always remain so sweet, no matter what you do to him.

“I felt less lonely before I met you,” you confess, eyes unblinking as you stare up at him for a long pause. “I’ll meet you here in the morning.”

In only seconds, he’s pulling you into a hug. His arms wrap around you so tightly as he holds you to his chest. You go stiff in his arms, forgetting how to breathe for a moment. What feels suffocating at first turns into a warmth you’ve become all too familiar with, and it was never anger. The indignation you always wear is just a hand me down from your parents; it doesn’t fit you right even though it’s comfortable.

With a shaky exhale, you wrap your arms around him too. The hug surrounds you like a blanket of unknown comfort. Your ear pressed to his chest listens to the sound of his racing heart. You can feel the pound throughout his entire body too. Every emotion held within is trying and fighting to be seen. It’s still so cold from the rain but he feels contrast, only warm. His lips press a kiss to the top of your head, making your body burn even more and your hold all the tighter.

　True to your word, you meet Sunghoon at the farmer’s lodge the next morning. He seems happier than usual. Very giddy to be spending a weekend day with you without work in the way. No distractions or excuses to leave. Just the two of you and a new day with zero obligations.

Because you had a spare bike, you both are able to peddle towards town to the bus stop together. Having made these frequent trips alone, you’re familiar with the owner of the gas station at the stop. He’s a deaf older man, and it surprises Sunghoon that you know how to sign and ask him to hold onto the bikes until you’re back. You tell Sunghoon that you learned some basics from reading a book you bought a long time ago.

Stunned, Sunghoon realizes that you went out of your way to do so for one man who watches your bike while you endure solo trips. You, the odd girl who was mean and sinful, used your money and learned a language for one man who did a simple favor. He’s learning more to admire you for by the day, and it’s crazy to him how you don’t see your own charm.

Sunghoon pays your bus fares even though you insisted on being capable of doing so yourself. Sat in the middle of the bus that’s only barely half filled, he asks if there’s anything you’d like to do for the day while in the city. Nobody has ever asked you such an effortless thing, and you like it more than you imagined. Just uncomplicated curiosity of your wishes.

“The book store. The small yellow one on main street. Maybe see a movie if anything is worth seeing.” You shrug, spewing out the usual things you do. Looking around the taken bus seats, you notice some familiar faces.

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

Your cheeks burn as you stare at him in bewilderment, “you think we’re going on a date?!”

“Of course we are,” he laughs like it’s obvious and wraps an arm around your shoulder, looking out of the window. All that the town can offer him other than you passes by. “I’m a fan of americanos. You seem like you’d take your coffee black.”

“I don’t even like coffee,” you mumble, turning your attention out of the window as well. “Tea is nice though.” You add in, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Hm. I can see that too,” he hums as he pulls you closer into his side.

So much can change in such little time. You’ve experienced this many times in one life. How one day can open a new door to a path otherwise not taken. Showing Sunghoon more of you has made him bloom into a larger ray of light. He seems more comfortable, and now you’ve become the awkward one.

The ride to the city doesn’t normally take this long, or at least you don’t think it does. Every second with him by your side makes the experience feel brand new. The theme of time being unreal is common with him, you’ve discovered. It’s when you’re in the bookstore and see a holiday sale that you realize it’s not even June anymore.

While Sunghoon looks for books for his upcoming college semester, you find yourself in genre sections you never really cared for before. The dark and racy ones were fun to bring home, sure. But innocent, cliche romance was always something cringey to you. Now if you change your perspective to that of research then it’s less daunting, right? Perhaps you’d make sense of all the things you’re discovering about yourself and him. Yeah, that’s convincing enough.

He teases you at the checkout counter when he sees what you picked out. Your face flushes in embarrassment and you can’t even bite back at him or defend your choices. So you smack him with the book on the way out while he laughs and makes jokes that aren’t very funny.

The two of you do manage to catch a movie. You honestly didn’t care to see one, but having to sit silently in a theater for at least an hour and half seemed like enough time for him to, hopefully, forget and drop the whole book situation. It’s a summer slasher film. A group of teens go camping and the plot is very ‘who done it’ style. Overall, it’s a fun choice. You have your turn to laugh and joke when Sunghoon gets jumpy or scared.

After the movie, you both end up at the cafe Sunghoon mentioned while on the bus. There was something painfully intimate about everything today. But especially sitting down to eat with him. Not even your mother could meet you at the table anymore.

“You seem softer today,” Sunghoon states, setting his half-drunk coffee down. “Almost nervous. Is it because we’re out together for our first date? Or just the people in general?”

You raise a brow at his brazen curiosity and observation. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me,” you play with your fork to move around the barely touched food in front of you. “Or maybe it’s a bit of both.”

“If you come to the city enough to know sign language for the man who watches your bike, do you like it better than the countryside?”

“Don’t know. I’m used to the quiet life, but leaving it behind and pretending it’s not there is nice too.”

“What keeps you there?”

“The scenery. The air. The lake. Being friends with the animals.” You look up from the plate to Sunghoon who is watching you like a lecture: attentive and learning. “I’m not very good with people, so I think it suits me alright.”

“You’re good with me though,” he argues softly.

“No, not really. I wish I was more like everyone else,” you inhale deeply as your eyes wander around the bustling cafe. There’s a choir of laughter, conversations, and social dynamics you would have to study to master. “If I were a good person, everything would be easier.”

“...but I like you as you are,” he mumbles loud enough for you to hear, watching you shift in your seat. He doesn’t think you’re not a good person, and it hurts that you see yourself as such.

As Sunghoon speaks, there’s a chime that follows as the front door of the cafe is swung open. A disheveled man stumbles inside, heavy feet stomping the tile floor to attempt to stabilize his disorientation. The man burps obnoxiously loud, and many eyes find him with the grand entrance.

He scratches at his lengthy, unkept beard as he looks around. When his sunken eyes find you sitting at the table nearby his eyes grow wide and his mouth falls open. His hand shakes with a pointed finger in your direction, “y-you! The girl from the reverend’s sermon!” He’s loud, capturing the attention of everyone now. His sloppy movements make way towards you and Sunghoon; you feel everything within you freeze, and your heart knocks at your chest fast and hard with anxiety.

He slams his hands on the table, causing your plates and drinks to rattle. He reeks badly of alcohol and his crazed eyes never leave yours. You swallow thickly, fight or flight mode still trying to understand the situation before you. Meanwhile Sunghoon, worried and confused, slowly begins to stand up and grab your bags.

But you, you’re frozen staring at the messy man who talks of your greatest hate. Your hands tremble on the table.

“I thought the reverend made you up for stories, but my God! You’re the real living thing just like the pictures; his only sin,” he laughs boisterously in your face and you try not to gag. “I saw him a little whiles earlier, ya know,” his voice goes quieter, it’s taunting even. You wish to remain calm but your eyes tremble and a frown takes your face. “I should go find him and tell him you’re here. He really-”

Sunghoon takes your hand, practically dragging you away from the table. You almost fall from your seat, like a baby deer just learning to walk, there’s little strength to your legs.

“It’s not too late! You can be on the right side of things!” his voice ricochets off the walls of the now quiet cafe. “If I can be saved by his preaching, so can you! Look at me!” His mad laughter follows you and Sunghoon outside.

Sunghoon watches you stand on uneasy feet, zoned out staring at the sidewalk. It didn’t take much to put the pieces together that the drunken man was talking about your father. Your father being a reverend who’s not in the picture gave him much to wonder about, but now isn’t the time. He just wanted to get you somewhere away from this memory.

He crouches down in front of you. You slowly blink back to reality, now looking down at his back. You don’t want to speak so you poke his shoulder in questioning.

“Hop on. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“What if I’m heavy?” you look at the bags he’s already holding, feeling that you too are a burdened weight he doesn’t need to hold.

“I’ve got good muscles, remember? Good for farm work,” he’s patient and calm with you while his eyes watch the man from outside the glass cafe windows. “Come on, baby.”

Without thinking, you end up on his back. He carries you on his back, strong arms holding your legs while yours are loosely around his neck. Your insides are a flared up hurricane but at least that allows your body to forget the empty ache you left at the cafe. With your chin hooked over his shoulder, you watch the many people and downtown stores that pass by.

Sunghoon doesn’t exactly know where he’s walking, but thinks it’s best to end the day here and return you to the bus stop. He’s never seen that look on your face before—the one you had when the man was loud in your face. He didn’t like it, and he’s sure you hated it. You looked intimidated, or afraid.

“Would you kill him for me?” you watch the side of his face, “the reverend, I mean.”

He stops in his tracks and turns his head to look back at you, “w-what? I can’t kill someone… and you should joke like that.” he panics, looking around to see if someone was listening to the wild conversation and request.

“Yeah, I know. I’m fucking with you,” you look away to hide your smirk, “and only half joking.”

“Did you believe him before?” He starts walking again, but this time at a slower pace knowing the bus stop isn’t too far now.

“Who? My dad or Our Father?” There’s a use of air quotes at the end of your question.

“Both?” his head tilts.

“Neither,” you confirm. There’s a pause for thought and Sunghoon waits for you to further explain. “My relationship with both is too similar. They’ve both known me my whole life, right? Seen all of my wrong doings and in return shown wrath through unnecessary punishments called forgiveness. In what good world is tolerance violent?”

“What do you mean? What did he do?”

“Sometimes, after my mother set the table for dinner, he would knock my plate to the floor. Tell me to eat off the ground like the animal I was or starve.” Sunghoon frowns at this, coming to a slow stop when he sees the bus shelter bench. “Sometimes I had days and nights locked in the barns, but he switched it up to the basement when I was too close with the animals.” You laugh a little, but he senses the pain behind it. “I watched him kill the animals, too, only to smother me in their blood. Beatings were rare, but I think only because he despised the thought of even touching me.”

Sunghoon slowly sets you down to the ground and breathes out your name safely, taking your hands into his. He looks at you with sorrow, like he was the one who endured it with you.

“God’s orders, am I right? My father, the church goers, speak of God like they’ve seen his face and heard his voice, but they haven’t. I would’ve by now too.”

If He was really in everything, all around, why did He always turn a blind eye? Why does He pretend to not know you? It only made it harder to believe in—something that would bring you here, torture you then watch you suffer for not living how it pleases. God wants to be believed in, but so do you. Only you would never beg for compassion.

Sunghoon squeezes your hands in his, “I don’t think you should stay there. You never deserved that… even if you’re volatile and strange… because you’re also kind and caring. It’s why I like you. It’s their fault for not seeing that,” he reassures. “I haven’t been through what you have, and I can’t understand. I-I mean I can try to, ya know… it’s not like I’d leave if I didn’t.” His words begin to stumble nervously, not confident in its sympathy reaching you where needed.

You laugh nervously, trying to tug your hands away from his grip that doesn’t let up. “Okay sure whatever, this is really embarrassing now…” You swallow hard and find difficulty in meeting his eyes.

That’s all that matters, what he said to you, but you didn’t have it in you to say it. He already knows it though, smiling small and holding your hands still. Without words or excessive displays he can still see it in your eyes, the subtle comfort of acceptance.

He could never blame you for your nature. He sees your anger as you just trying to be strong all while being sad. Whether you are his lover or executioner, he would accept you as you are every time with open arms, receiving hands. Even more readily, now.

　Even more time has passed since knowing Sunghoon. Summer has never flown by so fast. The calendar doesn’t exist to you anymore. It’s only the days you see him and the days that you don’t. The season will be wrapping up in the next few weeks, but only for him. He has to return to his regular scheduled routine of pursuing education while you will stay here, on the farm. It’s rare for you to feel this emotion: fear. You are scared of losing him. And the concept is something you do your best to avoid thinking about because it makes your skin itch with anxiety. It crawls over you like something that needs to be cut out.

And then an idea hits you. Something far more deep-seated than everything else you’ve done with Sunghoon that would solidify that this summer is real and yours. Something that will always stay; a reminder that good things are possible despite how the world has made you.

It’s a damn near perfect day. The sun is so bright, and only peers down onto you both through the gaps of the trees. It’s just warm enough. Just quiet enough aside from the sound of Sunghoon’s gentle breathing and natural composition of the nature that surrounds. Rustling of leaves, chirps of birds, and scurrying of whatever life that wishes to not be seen.

You both sit criss cross at the wooden dock by the lake, simply enjoying the scenery and all it has to offer. His large knee is affixed to yours. If this was early June, you would have moved away. But now it’s a week into August and you wouldn’t have it anywhere else. Just like you always imagined, and secretly wanted, the view is nicer with someone else.

He didn’t bother asking why you never brought him here before, or why it is that you chose to now. He’s just happy that you decided to at all.

You slip a hand into your boot and pull out a pocket knife. You flick it open and do a brief inspection of the cleaned blade. The sun glints off the metal as you turn it.

“Sunghoon, do you trust me?”

His eyes flicker from your blank face to the blade. He nods slowly with a swallow, “of course.” There’s a subtle apprehension to him. You hand him the small blade and leave your palm facing up, open to him.

“Cut a diagonal line down my hand,” you point and draw a line down the middle of your palm.

“Huh, seriously?” he takes the blade confused and concerned with what you’re asking of him. “Why? I can’t hurt you.”

“Do it. Don’t think of it as hurting me, but still do it deep enough to leave a scar.”

He struggles to understand the situation, but you’re so serious and clearly waiting for him to do as you asked. He exhales deeply, taking your hand in his while the other holds the knife just above the bared skin. Hesitant and slow, the tip of the knife pressed down into your flesh. You wince a little, which makes him pause. You nod, encouraging him to continue and he does despite hating the act. He slices the palm of your hand open just as you wanted. You hate blood, but it’s not so bad when caused by him.

“Shit, it stings,” you swallow through the pain. The feel of open flesh burning and stinging. “Your turn,” you exhale while taking the knife back with your free, unharmed hand.

“My turn,” he agrees as if all logic has left him and readily displays his palm to you. Deep down, he feels guilty for hurting you, so to make it even he wants to feel the same.

Just as hesitant and careful, you create a matching wound in his hand. A deep enough, bleeding, lesion in his left hand to match your right one. He cringes at the sight and the pain before looking back to your face. Your expression is so soft yet attentive, almost awestruck.

“Even when you hurt me you’re gentle,” he remarks, watching you in amazement with a meek smile.

“I am not gentle. I have sullied you,” you remind him, your eyes attempt to glare but they’re too bright in his.

“In the softest way, why?” His voice is delicate and still like the lake that sits before you. You blink slowly at him because there are no words to be found. He continues, “I never thought of you as a bad person,” he pauses as you drop the red stained knife, unsure if he should continue at first but does regardless. “And, uhm, I’ve thought a lot about this summer. What I've learned from you. Purity is constructive—like something made to bring shame.” You don’t move, watching him. “I don’t have to be clean to be good…and your hands never made me dirty. Because they never were either.”

Like an excavator to your tall, strong built walls Sunghoon has knocked your shield down. The facade of your character is breaking down, crumbling into the broken pieces that made it. A single tear escapes your eye and runs down your cheek. It’s rare for you to cry and you’re disgusted with the reality as to why it’s now that you break. Simply falling apart from kind words.

You try to use everything in you to ignore the heat in your body, to show the anger you think you’re feeling inside. So your eyes remain sharp and strong, boring into his, as they still water. You swallow the dry lump in your throat and without a word, you take his hand into yours to join in a mix of blood.

At first, you had one goal; one similar to murder. The sparkle he had in his eyes, you wanted to eat—to make them empty—and see the world ugly and godless like you. Yet somehow, somewhere along the way, his eyes shone even brighter. You only wanted to take and take of the innocent boy, but in this moment you realize, maybe I just wanted to give him some of me.

You wipe the wet drop away from your face with haste, pretending as if it was never there. Whatever blood oath you’re making with Sunghoon allows you to feel something indescribable. You don’t know if it’s deserved, but you smile anyways. Because the indescribable feeling feels like it’s an unknown, unspoken promise.

He’s seen you smile before with insidious malice, but this time, for the first time, you are really smiling. It’s a raw expression of surfacing emotions, and he returns the emotion like the sun. He thought of you beautiful before but with your brightness finally peering through your clouds, he believes you to be heaven sent. A part of him always wanted to see you cry—usually it was him with tears in his eyes; which is funny, because he wasn’t much of a cryer himself. You just had that way of breaking him down. He knows now he does for you too. And he can tell that you’re probably the type of person who needs to cry the most.

His hand squeezes yours tighter, a grip so loving, as you bind in one. Neither of your eyes or smiles leave each other until the bleeding stops.

　A week later, Sunghoon asks you on a date. The summer fair is in town. It’s something like a festival where all the locals from towns around the city come to visit and join in on festivities from carnival games, rides, food, and uncommon entertainments. You think of being mean, denying him the acceptance of the date, but you have always wanted to go. So you said yes without your words: took his scarred hand in yours and nodded.

The evening sky is a watercolor of warm tones as the sun begins to lay down for the night. The bright lights of the fair illuminate the large open field turned carnival. There’s a sea of people here tonight, and although it makes you nervous inside, having Sunghoon by your side makes the ordeal easier to handle.

The line for the ticket booth is lengthy but it passes by. You approach the booth, standing a little behind Sunghoon who takes out his wallet to buy your entrance wristband passes and tickets. You look around at the many people: families, friends, and couples, all immersed in their own experience as the music and sounds blend in the background of conversations.

“Oh wow! You’re really handsome,” the girl at the ticket booth gawks at Sunghoon. She straightens her posture and fixes her hair from her face, “one ticke-?”

Catching this, you step forward and snatch Sunghoon’s wallet from his hands, “he already knows that. Do your job or I’ll feed you to pigs.” You slap the cash amount for what you need down onto the table top with a straight face and mean eyes.

Her eyes go wide and she hushes an apology, quickly giving you both wristbands and tickets for the evening. She even threw in extra tickets as you stared her down.

Sunghoon watches you with a flushed face, even the tips of his ears burn red at your jealous threat. You both walk off into the fair, a sheepish smile on his face as he leads you through the crowd with an arm wrapped around your back and hand to your waist.

“Was that one of your jokes too?” he grins down at you.

“Nope,” you glance at him with a small smile. You weren’t sure what came over you in the moment, but it was something internally deep, and territorial. An innate reaction to someone trying to appeal to something that belongs to you. It felt ugly and you didn’t like it.

The idea that he could possibly be taken from you was a phenomenon you’ve thought of for a while now. Knowing he has an existing life outside you, outside of this summer, that he would return you made you sick. You’re far from perfect, or the right thing for him, and he could find a safer option if he ever pleased. Pushing the thoughts away is harder than you imagine, so you cling to his side even more.

You and Sunghoon use up your spare tickets for carnival games. You toss rings around bottles, shoot water guns into the mouth of a clown frame, and throw darts at balloons. The both of you aren’t very skilled at any of the games, but it's fun enough to enjoy the time without winning a prize to show for it.

Eventually, Sunghoon does find frustration within the ‘rigged’ set up of the games. He even pulls out his wallet for cash when the tickets are gone. You’re surprised at how competitive he is; his determined nature is something that stirs your insides around. You don’t know if you’ve ever smiled so much in your life.

After 3 rounds of throwing a ball to knock over a moving target, he does manage to win. Going 3 for 3 and not missing a single shot. The excitement you feel when he succeeds takes over and you’re proud, doing little jumps in place and clapping your hands together.

“You did it! You won!” you exclaim, hugging onto his side.

He can only smile down at your joyfulness. A fire burns in his heart and he hugs you back, kissing your forehead. “All for you. Which prize do you want?”

“It’s yours, you should pick it,” you blush, elbowing his side with a shy smile while your eyes keep looking up to the stuffed white lamb with a lace ribbon around its neck and a cushion gold bell adoring the throat.

Of course, that’s the prize he ends up choosing. It might not be Saint Michael the stuffed bear, but it’s something far happier, cleaner, and softer.

The stuffed animal never leaves your hold throughout the rest of the evening. It rides the many rides you and Sunghoon do. And sits at the picnic table with you both as you share fair snacks. Popcorn and cotton candy was never so sweet for either of you. Like contentment melting on your tongues.

Cliche as ever, Sunghoon wants to end the night there with a round on the ferris wheel. The line moves quickly and when it’s your turn to step into the carriage, he takes your hand and sits you down the seat next to him.

It moves slowly and rocks back and forth with shaky movements that have you gripping the side handles. With an arm around your shoulder, he holds you close to him. The array of flickering colorful lights and people below you feels almost magical.

Taking your eyes from the heightened difference between you and the ground, you look back to the boy beside you who is already looking at you. The reflection of rainbow luminescence glistens in his eyes. It’s even prettier than the view from the top of the little world you’re in. You give him a shy smile, finding it impossible to look away.

He says your name in a whisper, taking your chin between your fingers. “Thank you for choosing to let me in.”

Confused and wide eyed, you watch him lean into your face. You gasp when his lips meet yours before returning the notion. With eyes closed, you melt into his kiss. It’s sweet as all the things you’ve experienced today because of him.

It’s also as clumsy and messy as a kiss can be for two people who’ve never done so before. However, human nature and desire take over and ease the rest for you both. Lips move over another in a gentle waltz, careful and slow.

And as if the situation couldn’t get anymore cliche, fireworks light up the sky. At first you thought it was just your imagination and all the books you’ve read flooding your consciousness, but the booming sounds and cheers of the crowd are too loud to not be real.

You pull away from him first, and he’s already wearing a shit eating grin so wide that you can’t help but roll your eyes, fighting the urge to smile back at him. Your face burns in both embarrassment and adrenaline from the kiss.

After that, you don’t leave the city like you should. The bus takes you both back downtown but neither you or Sunghoon feel it’s time for goodbye. So, for the first time, he takes you back to his apartment. You’ve never been to anybody else's home before, and it’s nerve wracking to say the least. The complex is large and somewhat modern, housing many of the second and third year private college students.

When you step inside, it’s quite plain but at least clean. You’re immediately greeted by a boy shorter than Sunghoon. He has a big mouth smile and shining dark eyes. His hair is shaggy but it suits him. He’s practically bouncing on his toes. You shift yourself behind Sunghoon and hold onto his shirt, hiding slightly from the excited puppy-like roommate.

“How did it go? Oh, and nice to finally meet you,” he rambles out quickly, “I’m Jake. The best friend and roommate. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He shoots Sunghoon a wink before grinning back at you. He extends a hand for you to shake but you don’t reach out. Something about his eyes doesn’t sit right with you.

“She’s shy,” Sunghoon laughs a little as he guides you past Jake and towards his room. “It was fun though. I recommend going before it’s gone.”

“Ah, you got yourself a nice little angel, huh?” Jake leans over the kitchen island, watching you both. His smile falters. “I’ll have one of my own some day.” For some reason, you think of him as a secret pervert.

Sunghoon laughs his comment off and tells Jake goodnight before showing you to his room. His room is neat and as simple as a college boy’s room can be. A bed, desk, dresser, closet, and bathroom. One poster of a musician you’ve never listened to and a window with unopened blinds.

You sit yourself at the end of his bed and he sits down next to you. There’s some awkward silence as you look around, unsure of what you’re supposed to do. He feels similarly to your internal dilemma.

“I-I’ve never had-”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. Of course he’s never had a girl over. And of course you’ve never been over to a boys house.

“Are you tired?” he asks, and you lie by nodding your head. So you both get ready for bed. He gives you a shirt to borrow for bed that change into in his bathroom while he changes into sweats and a t-shirt in his room.

In minutes you’re both laying in his bed under the covers and staring up at his ceiling in the dark room. Not a word is said as you both lay there wide awake and untouching. But you know he’s wanting to by the way his body is shifting and turning, inching closer with every minute movement.

And before you know it, although expected, his body is nestled closely to yours. His arms wrap around you, pulling you into an embrace. For the most part, he usually does keep his space. Knowing how you are when it comes to physical touch that feels too sudden or invading. But with barriers breaking down more over time, he thinks you’re learning to handle the comfort better.

“I thought you were tired?” he mumbles, head on your shoulder. His hands trace up and down your arms that are wrapped around yourself like a guard.

“I lied,” you whisper. Your eyes can’t look at him yet, so they remain aimless to the ceiling. Some moonlight slips through his cracked window blinds, giving you enough view of the spinning ceiling fan.

“I had fun today. Mostly because you did. I like seeing you happy,” he smiles after kissing your shoulder that’s exposed in the neckline of his shirt too big for you. “And… I liked when you kissed me back,” his voice is quiet and shy-like.

“Do you want to do it again?” Your eyes shift to him and you can barely see the warm flush to his cheeks. He’s cute.

Taken aback at first, he just blinks at you with a parted mouth. Then he nods his head slowly, licking over his lips.

You turn over onto your side to face him and his hands don’t leave your waist. Unsure of what to do with your own, you wrap them around his neck. Good thing they sit behind him and it’s dark in the room because it would kill you for him to notice the slight tremor in your fingers.

With a scarily racing heart and stiff, trembling body you surge forward to kiss him. His lips are quick to capture yours. Soft and pillow-like, they mold into yours in waves. What starts off as clumsy and unskilled turns into hunger. Something desperate and needy. His grip feels bruising to your hips but in a nice way. In a way you want it to hurt more.

His nails digging further into your flesh to keep you impossibly close make your lips gasp, or maybe it’s the lack of air, or just both. And instinctively his tongue is licking its way past your lips and into your mouth. He kisses you like he’s starved for it. His wet tongue drags over yours, and your teeth, then as far as it can inside of you. He whimpers, pressing his already hard cock to you as he licks and kisses you open.

Your stomach has never burned this way before, and you feel the hot sensation all over then down to your core that aches like it’s hungry too. You feel disgusted by yourself but can’t fight the hum you make as you devour him right back. You’re getting wetter every second he’s in your mouth.

This time, he pulls away first. Panting for air and staring at you with glazed over dark eyes. He licks over his wet lips again, savoring the taste of you on himself. He bites down onto it and a part of you wishes it was you he sunk his teeth in.

“Can I do what I did last time?” he breathes out, his hips involuntarily jerking up against you at the thought alone.

While trying to act like you’re not catching your breath too, you say quietly, “do whatever you want.”

He kisses you again but with more desperation. You try to do the same but you can feel your heart and your head preparing for battle. The way he’s feeling you up and grinding himself on you is in no way unwanted, and that’s part of the reason you’re struggling to maintain presence.

It’s so much happening so quickly, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t imagine this happening eventually. Sex was inevitable. The way his body yearns to be one with yours makes you feel special almost. He’s already engraved into you but in his mind he has to be inside of you and it hurts so badly how you think the same.

But is the last thing that keeps him pure really yours to take? You’ve stripped so much away from him for all the wrong reasons before and now it feels strange. You are no good and that’s all he is.

The only thing keeping you here, in the moment, is him. His exploratory and gentle yet rough hands, his body grinding into you, his lips that can’t leave yours or your skin for even a second, and the weak wanting sounds that leave them.

“I need more, please. I want- I need to feel good with you. Please,” he’s whining into your ear. Then pressing kisses along your jaw and neck that are all so tender, slow, and deliberate. Large hands caress you like you’re breakable, as if not already just a body of fragmented pieces made whole and called a person.

Your still shaking hand reaches down between your two bodies and slips past his sweats. He had the nerve to go commando and you wish you could tease him, but you can’t. You’re lucky you’re even here right now and breathing his air. Your hand wraps around his aching length and gives him a few tugs to which he’s quick to moan. He kicks off his sweatpants while you bring him closer to you. The plush of your thighs trap him; he whimpers against the soft heat of your flesh.

Your hips grind up into him once, showing him what he should do too. He’s slow to start, rocking himself between your thighs. Slutty and hopeless sounds leave him in a string of his want. His leaking hard cock is so close to your core. Only the thin layer of your underwear keeps him from feeling your clear need for him too.

Wrapped in each other's arms, you bury your head to his shoulder. You can feel the pulse of his aching desire rubbing and grinding against you. It makes you shiver in sensitivity and cower further into his neck. You don’t bite down onto your lip, but his neck. There’s a sting to your eyes because you hate it—the wet warmth that pools out of you. Your sin sticks to your underwear and your skin like the red raining life of all the animals you made leave the earth; your haunting subconscious correlates with your growing pleasure.

You know you’re not religious yet every time Sunghoon touches you there’s a divinity to it and it makes your hands want to join in prayer to thank the universe for sending someone like him to you. Because his hands roam your body as if they have in every world; as if there is not one timeline where you have not been made for him. Like you were carved from his rib every time.

Your body smolders in that angry way it always did whenever Sunghoon got too close to you. Whenever his words were too kind, his touch too gentle, or god forbid when he just smiled at you. That fire is just the divine nature of your relationship, lighting up everywhere he touches and leaving flames in the wake. You thought it was your body rejecting his purity, but you were only denying the likeness. He made you feel good. And in the most ironic way possible. You just didn’t think you deserved it.

Yet an anguished moan leaves you, rumbling against his skin as you bite down harder. Regardless of it all, he is yours right now.

The feeling of your sinking teeth in him, the sounds you’re now making, and the damp heat between your legs he can’t stop chasing all makes his head spin. He bites down onto you just the same and it only makes you moan louder.

“Please,” he’s whining again through the bite. His voice a needy tremble while his hips stutter and thrust between your legs that only squeeze tighter together. The way the fat of your legs hug his raging cock through his desperate grinds makes him chase more and more for that feeling he just can’t seem to reach. The crying tip kisses and pushes up then past your leaking folds every time. It drives you both insane.

If your body is the fiery lake of creation's deepest pit, then he is the cleanest ocean of earth’s highest point. If anyone could extinguish you, and possibly make you feel whole, it was Sunghoon.

This is the most horrifying reality you’ve come face to face with. Not just intimacy, but a stronger driving emotion. You have to open yourself, rip open your chest and bare your beating heart in all its naked vulnerability. Let it scream out I like being with you. You have allowed this person into your world that nobody else has dared to step foot in. To see you in such ugly ways yet still extend their arms for you. It’s a terrifying level of closeness that you’ve never once experienced and you don’t know what to do with. You’re beyond perplexed by what he’s done to you, in both terror and awe.

You pull back from Sunghoon and he pauses everything for a moment to look at you, noticing your wet eyes. Before he can ask what’s wrong you reach down and slip off your underwear. You shift your body and maneuver him as best you can until he’s on top of you. Rattled with concealed embarrassment you remove his shirt and toss it somewhere to the floor, and he does the same.

You take a deep breath and reach back down to his cock, lining it up with your pussy. You blink and swallow away all the things trying to stop you from allowing yourself him. Pliant beneath him, you grab his shoulders and pull him down to you for a quick kiss. Foreheads now pressed together with lips ghosting over the others, you tell him, “I hate you.”

Sunghoon only smiles down at you before kissing you once more. With his arms caged around you, he slowly pushes himself forward. The fat tip of his cock fails to go through you, only sliding up and past the wet folds. He whines feeling the warm slick coat the head; his entire body shudders. He nearly cums from that alone.

He looks at you confused, and nod once while trying to shift your hips around for a better angle. It’s not like you to be so quiet during things like this. It only tells him that for once, you’re nervous about new things the way he was.

So he tries again, this time a little rougher. He thrusts his hips forward, the tip pushing past the tight walls but still barely in. You whimper at the intrusion and the feeling of you being stretched open. Your hands squeeze hold onto his biceps for purchase.

The tight sensation of your pussy squeezing his tip feels otherworldly to him. He can’t help but need to sink deeper into you. His cock pushes in further at an agonizing pace until he’s as deep as he can possibly go. His arms shake while he tries to maintain his strength and keep himself from collapsing onto you completely. The wet walls that surround him flutter and try to pull him further inside, making him feel lightheaded. His moans are so needy it’s almost like he’s crying from the feeling.

“Oh, f-fuck!” you whimper. Having Sunghoon completely inside of you feels so full. You’re stuffed with him and it hurts so good. “You gotta move, Hoon. Feels like you’re splitting me open.”

“You're so tight, mm.” His hips stutter from your words alone and he whimpers again. He pulls himself out halfway while your gummy walls kiss around him in an attempt to suck him back to be filled again. He begins to rock himself in and out of you. It’s inexperienced and awkward, but he gets the hang of it quickly. Doing what feels best for him and what seems to be the best for you too.

“I hate you. I fucking hate you,” you whisper harshly, looking up at him with tear filled eyes. It all burns while feeling like heaven. Never have you been so full, held so gently, or seen than this summer. You bite back the breaking moans and whimpers. You claw at his skin. You even begin to cry when your hips can’t stop chasing his thrusts.

“I love you too,” he whispers back. A kiss is pressed to your forehead as his cock pistons you. Sunghoon is smart enough to know you’re a liar. Your mean words that used to hurt him, he now understands. You’re not really a bad person. And you don’t hate him. You were just really damaged and if he’s damned for trying to heal that then he’s fine with that too.

“I mean it,” your body shudders, feeling his tip pound so far and deep in places inside you that you didn’t know reachable. His fat cock drags out and forces through your tight hole, making you cream all over him more and more. The sounds that leave your body, the sounds your bodies are making, it’s so obscene. Fighting off the disgust and focusing on how he makes you feel is war. It’s so hard for you to win.

“No you don’t,” he shifts himself to sit on his knees, taking your legs and wrapping them around his waist. He leans forward and kisses both of your cheeks before fucking himself into you again, only harder and faster than before.

“Ngh,” you moan again through broken sobs, blinking away the tears as you stare up at him. “I’m t-trying to.”

“I know, baby.” he mumbles before capturing your wobbling lips into a searing kiss. “It’s okay, haah, don’t cry. You’re good. You’re so good for me,” he says against your wet lips. You can only sniffle and try to turn your head away from him in your embarrassment. “No, no.” he takes your chin with his thumb and finger, forcing you to look back at him. His thrusts never letting up during his care. “Look at me. You’re so good to me.” He reminds you over and over. “We’re so good together. I’m yours. you’re mine.”

“Say it again,” you sniffle through little sounds of sin. Your hand finds a place on his cheek, and your thumb rubs over his lips that wear a smile.

“You’re so good, good for me. We are so good together. I am yours. And you are mine,” he says softly. His eyes are so filled with love, and if you could see your reflection in his then you would know yours are too. “Say you’re good, baby, it’s okay.”

“I’m good,” you sob through your whimpers, “I’m yours.”

To Sunghoon, the idea of sex was always sacred. Something that’s only done and shared between lovers bound by marriage of the church. But now, he thinks differently. He knows that there is no shame in him loving you now or years later. And he was more than happy to make love to you all night until you believed it too.

　Perhaps there was a thing such as divine intervention and if God’s timing was alway right, he knew how to be evil with it too. Because the next day, when Sunghoon takes you home, he’s met with your maker.

Your mother, aware of the frequent trips you’ve been making and how close you’ve grown to the summer farmhand boy, is quick to make a call to your father the night you don’t return home. It wasn’t necessarily because she cared for your well being. You’re more than capable of handling yourself. But it was an excuse to try and get him to come back. Only it doesn’t go how she wanted.

When you see the reverend’s car parked in front of your house, your heart drops. Sunghoon picks up on your tension, He sees how you go blank at the sight and slowly turn back into the empty girl he met months ago. He tries to hold your hand but your fingers can’t move, can’t return the embrace.

When the reverend walks out of the house with his infamous weapon of sacrificial forgiveness, you know what to do. Your body moves on its own, leaving Sunghoon to reach out for you that walks towards the woods. He goes to follow you and the desolate man that stalks behind, but your mother stops him. She’s hysterical as she drags him towards your house saying, “it’s going to be okay.” But she’s crying.

Once out of their sight, the reverend takes you by the hair. He yanks your head around, pulling you towards that cursed tree. He’s uncharacteristically rough and your scalp screams for a release but you don’t show it. You don’t even look at the man. Not even when he’s tossing your body to the ground.

“So you’re whoring around with my employees now, huh? Was ruining this farm not enough for you?” His words mean nothing to you. You dust off the dirt and go to stand again, but he kicks you back down. You tsk under your breath as he speaks again, “I’ve seen all the things you’ve done. Seen you leave my barns with red hands and smile. Cut heads off chickens like an anatomy project. Is he next? That church boy?”

Now you look up to glare at him. Seeing the reverend was aggravating enough, but to say something about Sunghoon was infuriating to you. “I am not a killer. You are! And those animals were already dead.” You spit at his black leather church shoes.

“Oh, you disgusting little devient,” he laughs lowly, untying the rope from the tree. “Your cruelty shouldn’t bring you joy. Sick and twisted, I should’ve dealt with you sooner regardless of what your drunk bitch mother protested. I can save the boy when you’re gone.”

“What?” you shuffle backwards from him, angry and confused as he stalks closer to you until you’re backed against the tree. “All those things I did was because of you. Your righteousness made me rotten!” Your hands shake, gripping at the dirt ground for anything to make the fear stop. You glance up to the empty tree branch then the rope in his hands. Where is the lamb? You think briefly before it hits you. “You’re crazy,” you whisper, “I will not be your martyr… not now what I’m finally-”

“Condemn me to Hell for all I care,” he crouches down in front of you, “This is the last time I’ll be a killer.” He throws the rope to your lap and tells you to tether yourself.

“Why do you hate me?” The words scratch at your throat. When you were younger, you did want the reverend to hate you. It was when he noticed you most, and it’s all you really knew. But now you’re older, and his disdain never made sense.

You can’t bring yourself to move even if you wanted to. Was this His plan? To allow you one good thing in life before ending it? Was ruining Sunghoon your final sin?

The rope shakes with your fingers as you stare down at it. The twine of the rope burns over the palm of your hand where Sunghoon carved his promise. Your throat feels dry, tight and suffocating; choking on everything you’ve ever done. And your eyes still puffy from the night before well with tears all over again.

“I just do,” he thinks of slicing your neck open right there. So fuck tying you down, you were always secretly another lamb anyways. He raises his knife and the metal sits cold under your chin as he lifts your head up to look back at him.

“Okay…” you swallow.

Your eyes squeeze shut and so does your mouth, as you raise your head to the sky with an exposed throat. Why isn’t this easy? Unlike the animals, you do know what’s coming. And it’s scary. Scary not because of death, but because you aren’t ready. You haven’t told Sunghoon goodbye or that you love him back. And the thought of him finding something in this world to hate, is such an ugly feeling to die with.

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

You open your eyes and your father is on his back clutching his abdomen. He coughs and gasps before raising his hand. It’s dripping in deep red. And you can’t help but smile with tears in your eyes as you exhale a jagged breath.

You turn your head and Sunghoon stands there with the shotgun in hand, open mouthed and wide eyed.

“Sunghoon!” you scramble to your feet and run over to him, taking the gun from his hands as he’s frozen in shock.

“H-he was going to- he was about to hurt you. I had to-!” he stutters, his eyes already crying and hands shaking, still feeling the weight and recoil of the gun.

“It’s okay,” you coo softly. “Just- go back to the house and I’ll be right there, okay?” You rush out. Still in shock and dazed, he blindly trusts you and does as you say.

When he’s no longer close by, you walk over to the reverend with a blank face. You stare down at him as he tries to crawl away, dirty and bleeding. The smile you make doesn’t reach your eyes.

You point the gun back down at him, and place your foot over the shot wound Sunghoon created. The man gasps and tries to swat at your leg but you only press the gun further into his face, making him surrender.

“Divine intervention, huh? Say it with me now. I know no punishment, only mercy.” Your voice is quiet, calm, and mocking of his tone. With the barrel to his forehead, you watch him writhe in pain and cough up a little blood.

“Go to Hell,” he spits his words like venom.

“If you say it, I’ll let you live. But if you show your face to me or Sunghoon again, I’ll shoot you right between the eyes.” Your foot presses down harder. You can feel that angry little girl inside of you jumping with joy.. Knowing his God demands to be bled for, and making him know the sacrificial suffering, well it feels good to say the least. “Say it. With me. Now.” Each word pronounced with the growing applied pressure to his shot wound. And then he begs for forgiveness. He’s never seen you smile the way you did when he was below you with those words. Empty eyes were never so alive for him either. He cries and chants ‘I know no punishment, only mercy’ over and over. It was like the most beautiful hymn.

　There wasn’t much to be said about that day. Sunghoon and you just pretend you shared a nightmare. Neither of you talked about it. It was just another thing that tied you together.

Sitting there in the peak of summer’s heat. A day before Sunghoon returns to college classes. Birds chirp. The leaves of the tall trees thistle in the light breezes that pass by. Sunghoon sits criss crossed and while you have your feet hanging off the edge of the dock, kicking in the water.

“I’m sorry,” you break the silence. Shocked, he looks over to you. He never would have expected you to apologize for anything. “I was selfish when I approached you. I wanted to take all that goodness out of you and keep it for myself. I thought I wanted to hurt you, but after sharing all this time with you, I realized I was wrong. It’s weird to say it out loud,” you laugh small, awkward, “but I really am sorry. I love you more than even I know.” You stare down to your feet in the water that has gone still. A tear falls from your eye, and down to your cheek.

“I know. I love you too,” he wraps an arm around your waist. “But now the same sins bind us.” You hiccup silently and turn to look up at him. “Harvest all of my purity, farmer’s daughter.”

For the first time, you really laugh. It’s bright and loud like the big smile he’s seeing for the first time on his favorite face. It’s morning sunlight that whispers through trees to kiss the forest floor. Birds that sing songs of hope to awake life into a new day. Nostalgic, expansive days of childhood where the concept of time doesn’t exist. To him, you look like the epitome of summer; he doesn’t want this season to end.

You were never the lamb. Or the wolf. Not an animal at all. Nothing like the ones you grew up with. You were just a girl, scared and alone. But not anymore. Because it’s your last day on this farm, and tomorrow is the first with only Sunghoon.

“Your humor is poetry.” you continue to laugh until tears prick your eyes all over again. You love it.

“It wasn’t supposed to be funny.” he looks away shyly, blushing. It only makes your giggle more, but you stop to press a kiss to his cheek. He blushes harder.

“I’ll keep doing it, harvesting all of your purity, for as long as you’re good.” you say with a smile.

“Do you promise? I am always good, especially with you, so it could be a long while.” He bumps your shoulder playfully with a laugh.

You take his scarred hand in yours and you laugh like he did, pure and true, “I do.”

© fangel ┊ do not copy, repost, modify or translate my content ໒꒱ tysm for reading, ⌗unlearn shame ⌇ taglist @tinycatharsis @simjaexy @leehsngs @511rkive @beomluvrr @jjongsaengzz @slvtella @jaerisdiction @kkamismom12 @rayofsunshineeee @nshmrarki @m3wkledreamy @hanjisbeloved @filmnings @stercul1a @hooniesfvngs @moriwori @sleepyhoon

#﹙ 🧾 ﹚— feedback 𐙚‧₊˚♡#tinycatharsis #you ALWAYS get it !!!#i’m so happy you’re able and here to read my stories #i send you so much love

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mommysorryshizun · 2 days ago

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Shen Yuan, 22, starts playing Proud Immortal Demon Way, a well-known Otome game, and gets insanely frustrated at the fickle point system, coding errors, and totally unbelievable dialogue! He absolutely trashes the game across all platforms - from Twitter to Reddit, there's no one who is a more dedicated hater than he is! His ratios on all platforms are not exactly in his favour... At the root of it all lies his hatred of Otome games in general - Shen Yuan hates being unable to say what he truly means.

Then one day… he bumps into Luo Binghe irl. Literally. In Liu Qingge’s pretentious uptown coffee shop of all places- face planting right between the man’s tits while he’s distracted by harassing someone on Twitter - oh my god, what kind of bad cliche is this??!?!?!!! At first, he’s so shocked he can’t even speak to apologise, staring dumbly at the fucking Adonis in front of him. When he finds his voice again, he squeaks out an embarrassing “sorry!” before scuttling off, right out the cafe door from whence he came. And without his coffee! The stranger didn’t even look that much like Luo Binghe from the game! Right……?

It doesn’t seem to matter… until he arrives at work to find fucking MOBEI-JUN!!! THE GUEST EXECUTIVE FROM THE COMPANY’S MAIN BRANCH!!!! Shen Yuan stares at him for an embarrassing amount of time, to the point that Mobei-Jun raises his eyebrow in question, before gesturing to the seat beside him. Shen Yuan…………... IS GONNA DIE!!!!!! Men can’t… they can't be allowed to sit like that! It should not be allowed! It's not like Mobei-Jun is really doing anything special, one ankle resting up on his knee, legs spread wide open and… SHEN YUAN PREFERS TO USE HIS IMAGINATION!!! THANK YOU!!!! At least his imagination isn’t so dangerous for his heart…

Shen Yuan can explain away many things, including not-Luo Binghe’s appearance at the coffee shop and Mobei-Jun being. Entirely Mobei-Jun, name, and all. But when it happens a third time!!!!! Shen Yuan becomes convinced he’s cursed. Yue Qingyuan might be the whiniest, most tragic character in the game but god he is so tall, his shoulders are so broad, and his smile- This is not allowed. Shen Yuan is sure there has to be some kind of karmic law against this. He’s been cursed, oh my god, he’s totally been cursed. Coffee shop not-Binghe, workbei-Jun, and now new neighbour Qingyuan. NO ONE’S BEEN IN THAT APARTMENT IN DECADES!!! WHY NOW!!! WHY SHEN YUAN??????

It only gets worse from there.

Mobei-Jun might not give a flying FUCK about Shen Yuan, his sole focus remaining on Shen Yuan’s insufferable colleague, Shang Qinghua, but that doesn’t stop Shen Yuan from getting almost-boners every time the man scoots behind his chair to go to the bathroom during long meetings, or stares at him with interest when he presents a PowerPoint manifestation of the ideas he had at 3am. And Yue Qingyuan might definitely be trying to get in Shen Yuan’s pants and Shen Yuan knows as soon as he unlocks this man’s backstory his life will be ruined but that doesn’t exactly mean he’s avoiding the free food and company he offers.

The only person he hasn’t seen recently is not-Luo Binghe… which is good! Luo Binghe hates Shen Yuan in PIDW, who’s to say real life won’t be the same? Shen Yuan prefers to be an asshole through the screen, not in real life where the risk of a man who you could fit two liquidised Shen Yuan’s into punching him in the face is very very real. This lack of meeting might also be because Shen Yuan hasn’t gone back to Qingge’s coffee place for two weeks. The man (friend???) in question, a coffee connoisseur (apparently) may or may not be threatening his life for skipping his morning stop for so long.

Unfortunately, Shen Qingqiu is stupid, so after those two weeks he assumes the coast is clear and it’s safe to return. It is not. Sat out the front, Luo Binghe is just as tall and unfairly beautiful as last time Shen Yuan had the misfortune of bumping into him. And nope, no, Shen Yuan was wrong this guy and Luo Binghe are fucking identical save for the sweet smile plastered across real-Luo Binghe’s face. As if he could get more attractive. THIS IS SO TWISTED. In another fit of brightness, Shen Yuan pretends not to notice him. Orders his coffee as per usual. He’s almost made it to the end of his order before Luo Binghe goes and ruins everything.

“I’ll pay for it,” Binghe announces cheerily, reaching over Shen Yuan’s shoulder with a credit card. Daddy’s money no doubt. What was his aggravatingly wealthy father's name in-game? Ugh, asshole. Shen Yuan splutters some kind of refusal, but Binghe just hums pleasantly. “You forgot yours last time. They were calling… cucumber for a long time…”

Shen Yuan just needs to go home and kill himself. Right now. He considers scurrying away again, but bracketed between Binghe’s massive arms and the till he just mumbled out a miserable “thank you,” and resigns himself to fate. Luo Binghe finishes his order for him. It’s kind of creepy. Which makes it hot. This definitely doesn't say anything about Shen Yuan sexually or developmentally. Shen Yuan ah, Shen Yuan. At least he rests easy in the fact that real-Binghe is definitely not coming onto him. After all, in PIDW the man doesn't really hate Shen Yuan for Shen Yuan, but for his female persona.

They both wait for his coffee in a corner, Luo Binghe standing so close to him their forearms are almost touching. Shen Yuan regrets wearing a short-sleeve dress shirt today. He regrets being alive at all, actually. He would reach for his jacket but that would mean their arms definitely would touch and he would rather tie himself to a pyre and light the match with his teeth.

“Cucumber?” the server says, unsure. Clearly new. Awesome. Shen Qingqiu now needs to gain back twice the karmic points he lost telling anyone other than Liu Qingge about that stupid fucking pseud. Luo Binghe follows him like a puppy out of the coffee shop. Shen Qingqiu coughs awkwardly.

“Thank you,” he says again. Luo Binghe cocks his head. Like a fucking dog!!! If he knew Luo Binghe was so cute maybe he’d give him a chance in-game… Shen Qingqiu barely avoids smacking himself in the face to tamp down the heat rising in his cheeks.

“You’re welcome… cucumber?”

“Shen Yuan,” Shen Yuan offers his real name with a huff.

“Luo Binghe,” Luo Binghe responds, beaming.

“I know.” Ah. Shen Yuan. You really can’t help yourself, can you?

Luo Binghe cocks his head the other way.

“Bye,” Shen Yuan waves stiffly before breaking into a full-out sprint down the sidewalk. FUCK! FUCK! NEVER EVER EVER GOING BACK TO THAT COFFEE SHOP! SORRY LIU QINGGE!!!!!!

#I'll take one chapter of edging thank you very much #svsss #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #shang qinghua #mobei jun #liu qingge #yue qingyuan #bingqiu

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tayswife · 2 days ago

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— kiss me under the pale moonlight

☆ glinda upland x elphaba thropp

☆ summary: glinda finds out elphaba isn’t too fond of valentine’s day and she does everything in her power to make it her favorite.

☆ warnings: smut

“how could you hate valentine’s day, elphie? it’s pink and love and it’s just amazing!” glinda followed elphaba down the hall, nearly out of breath trying to follow her friend that wouldn’t stop walking or pay her any attention.

it was february 13th. the day before valentine’s day, and glinda would not let it go. elphaba slightly mentioned how she doesn’t like the holiday, how it’s just another day for her, and now she has a perky blonde chasing after her and trying to convince her otherwise.

“yeah…exactly,” was all elphaba said in response to her.

glinda grunted, as if elphie’s response had seriously impacted her. elphaba didn’t know why it was such a big deal. some people hate christmas or halloween, so why wasn’t she allowed to not like valentine’s day.

it always just felt like a smack in the face to her. like the universe was just reminding her that nobody would ever love her and the green skin that comes along.

elphaba thought, by the evening, that glinda had completely forgotten about what she was nagging her about. but by the time they had gotten into bed and moments of silence passed by, glinda brought it up again from her side of the room all the way to elphie’s.

“maybe you just need someone to show you how amazing valentine’s day can be,” glinda said, her voice echoing against the four walls in the dead of the silent night. she said it as if she were to be talking to herself, pondering out loud.

“glinda, i appreciate you trying to figure out my dislike for the holiday, but i really don’t want you to try and find me a date now.”

the thought of glinda trying to set her up on a date just felt like a chore. a chore to get ready for it. a chore to go to it. a chore for her to entertain the young man.

but being with glinda…it felt natural and easy.

“why not?”

“i couldn’t be the least bothered to go to some date with a boy that will just cause me headaches.”

“well…who said it had to be some boy,” glinda said shyly, “maybe there’s someone who is trying to get your attention that would die to take you on a date tomorrow.”

glinda said it quietly. almost as if she didn’t want elphaba to hear it. but despite her low tone, elphaba still heard it. she was grateful, both the girls were, that neither could see the blush on their cheeks at the moment.

elphaba let it go. glinda did too. they acted as if they were sleeping but neither of them could let glinda’s words go.

the follow day, elphaba wanted to lock herself inside her dorm. and lock glinda out of it especially. elphaba couldn’t stand seeing every other student receive roses and look at each other with glowing lusty eyes. a part of her, that she would never admit, was envious of it all.

she wanted to be treated like she was special.

to elphaba’s surprise, glinda didn’t have a valentines date. the prettiest and most popular girl in the school, maybe even in all of Oz, failed to accept a boys offer to take her out tonight.

it wasn’t that she didn’t have anyone ask her. because multiple boys were lined up at her feet. especially boq. it got increasingly annoying when she’d be in a conversation with glinda and some random boy would interrupt them to hand glinda a fresh red rose.

she felt jealousy pool in her belly. but not because of the treatment glinda was receiving. but mostly because of the fact that they were trying to take glinda away from her.

she couldn’t put her finger on why she felt this way towards her best friend.

all day glinda had acted strange towards elphaba. elphie caught onto her sudden new behavior very quickly. she seemed…anxious. which glinda typically didn’t feel. or at least, never showed it. she was always very confident, but today she just seemed lost in her own head.

that afternoon in class, glinda stared lovingly at her focused friend beside her as she typically does. elphaba is far too fixated on her education however the only thing glinda wanted to study was elphaba.

“plans for tonight?” glinda whispers to her while dr dillamond’s back is turned to the class.

elphaba turned her head to the bright-eyed blonde who held a gentle smile on her face. elphie wanted to tell her to be quiet, to pay attention. but she just couldn’t when she heard her sweet voice, and when she saw that smile, every thought disappeared from her head.

“i’m going on a date,” elphaba said, glinda gasped, “with myself, in the library, studying.”

glinda’s face then fell flat. unimpressed on the outside. however, she was nonetheless over the moon that nobody had gotten elphaba before her. that her plans would still work out.

that night, of february 14th, glinda stood infront of her vanity mirror, touching up her makeup. she put on a different dress than the one she had been wearing that day, but nonetheless pink. it was a delicate shade of pink and the short sleeves fell off her shoulders. it was one of her favorites that she felt the prettiest in.

she applied a deeper shade of pink gloss to her lips to clash with her dress. she took one last look in the mirror, turning to each side to make sure she hadn’t missed a spot of perfection.

glinda had memorized elphaba’s nightly schedule. she had since the day they became roommate’s. glinda had approximately two minutes before her favorite witch would join her.

she walked out to the balcony connected to their room. there were some blankets spread on the floor along with some pillows and candles. glinda sat on one side, lighting the couple of candles with a match.

right as she blew the match out, she heard the door creak open. the sounds of heels against the wooden floor grew closer. “glinda?” elphaba said.

she walked further into the room, hearing a high pitched “over here!”

elphaba walked over to the open doors of the balcony. her eyes widened at the sight. not only what glinda had set up, but glinda herself. she practically glowed under the moonlight. her features were illuminated in the perfect way, accentuating all of her best physical qualities.

“oh! i’m sorry, do you want me to get out? i didn’t realize you had a date,” elphaba said, shaking her head in hopes all of the lusty thoughts would float out of her head. she went to turn around to leave. and typically, she wouldn’t leave her own dorm for something like this, but it was valentine’s day, and she really couldn’t be in the same room as glinda while she was sharing her space with some boy.

“wait no! elphie, come here,” glinda said hastily. elphaba stood there awkwardly, lips parted because she wanted to say something but she didn’t know exactly what. “sit down,” glinda nodded her heads toward to spot in front of her.

hesitantly, elphaba walked out onto the balcony, letting the cool breeze knock her back into reality. she sat onto the blanket into a criss-cross position. there was silence. a slightly uncomfortable one. glinda shared a soft smile with her before breaking the silence.

“i don’t have a date. i mean, i hope i do but…” she trailed off, voice quiet and quivering with anxiety.

“oh.”

“no, elphie. what i’m trying to say is i hope you’ll say yes to a date with me. well, we’re already on it.”

elphaba’s eyebrows furrowed and her eyes twitched. she didn’t look quite amused. “you don’t have to do all of this,” she said, slight angry, “i don’t need your pity.”

“elphie—”

“i’m fully capable of being alone. i don’t need you to try and make me feel included—”

“elphaba thropp, i don’t pity you im in love with you!”

that same silence arose one again, but this time it was incredibly loud. glinda’s outburst, which had probably been echoed all throughout shiz, had left them sitting there both speechless. it was certainly not how glinda planned it to come out and this wasn’t how elphaba expected this night to go.

elphaba opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it once more. she was in shock, not knowing entirely how to act. momentarily, did she think that glinda was just doing this as a big joke. pfannee and shenshen were going to jump out of the closet and laugh in her face along with glinda…there was no way this was…

“i want to have this date with you. why else would i reject every boy’s offer to take me out? none have been as special as you are, elphaba thropp. i feel things with you that i’ve never felt with any other boy!”

speak. words. say something.

elphaba sat there silently and then when she actually found the courage to speak, all that came out was, “I—”

“this was so stupid of me. why would you want me? i’m a girl and i’m not—”

glinda looks like she’s going to cry. or maybe even have a mental breakdown. elphaba can’t just sit there and watch anymore.

“glinda, shush! it’s not stupid.”

“what?” glinda looked straight at her. her eyes were red like she were holding in tears. she refused to let them spill over and ruin her makeup.

“i didn’t think it was possible that the feelings were mutual. i mean, can you blame me? i’m green and you’re…perfect.”

“elphie—” she wants to, so badly, tell her how perfect her green skin makes her. how it, somehow within these fucked up standards, makes her even more perfect than the most popular girl at school. but elphaba keeps going. all the words that were stuck in her throat now pour out of her mouth like water.

“this is all…wonderful and too much and just enough and i’m sorry i made you think i don’t want you because that’s all i ever wanted. you’re all i ever wanted before i even knew your name.”

“elphaba,” glinda says as if she were to be testing out her name for the first time. elphaba liked hearing it. the way it rolled off her tongue like butter. the way her high pitched voice got lower when she said it.

glinda scooted closer to elphaba. and so, with both of their legs criss-crossed, their knees were touching. it made elphaba twitch when she felt glinda against her. “can i kiss you?” she whispers it to ensure that elphaba is the only one to hear it. even being alone, she couldn’t risk someone, somehow, hearing it. not because she was ashamed, but because these words were only for her elphie.

elphaba just nods, staring wide eyed back at the blonde. her vision is blurred from just how close glinda’s face was to her’s or maybe her sweet vanilla scent is just making her dizzy with lust. either way, her eyes flutter shut as soon as she felt lips as soft and sweet as a honeyed dewdrop against her own green ones.

it wasn’t long after that glinda pulled away. and glinda stared back at her friend like she were trying to analyze how she was feeling just by looking at her face.

“was that your first kiss?” glinda asks. it felt as good as if it were her millionth. elphaba just nods, the shame she’d typically have answering that question completely gone in this moment. “did you like it.”

“mhm.”

“me too,” glinda whispers, and then shyly asks, “do you want to do it again?”

“yes. forever,” elphaba says. and this time, it’s the green witch that leans into her.

glinda’s lips taste of strawberry and desire. the kiss slowly begins to lose the tentative softness to it. it becomes full of passion and hunger.

glinda doesn’t want to overwhelm or frighten elphaba considering this is her first experience with this, but elphie shows no sign of discomfort. she just keeps going at it like a hungry animal.

glinda then slowly pushes elphaba back so she’s laying down with her head against a pillow. or maybe elphaba fell back. neither of them could tell you. but either way, glinda is on top of elphaba, still making out with her, and elphaba fears she may burn at the strong aching feeling.

the blonde witch pulls away. she looks down at elphaba, captivated by her beauty. just like this. lips slightly pink from a mix of glinda’s lipgloss and the way she attacked them, her eyes wide; full of hope and lust and curiosity.

she wants elphaba thropp like a moth drawn to a flame. she’s irresistible. she just has to have her.

“why’d you stop?” elphaba asks, and she twirls the hem of glinda’s dress between her two fingers as a way to occupy them.

“elphie,” glinda asks, not paying attention to the fact that she already has elphaba’s.

“yes?”

“i want to make love with you,” glinda says it so boldly, that it causes elphaba’s face to burn. she never expected anyone to see her in this light. to want her in this light. let alone glinda to want her at all. “would you like that?”

elphaba gulps, “more than anything.”

“right here?” elphaba then asks. they’re on the balcony in front of the entirety of shiz. despite them laying on the floor where nobody down below could likely see them, elphaba still feels the need to remind her of their whereabouts.

glinda nods. “i had this whole idea about watching the stars together,” she admits, “but now all i want to watch is you coming undone under them.”

glinda then leans forward, kisses the side of elphaba face before whispering in her ear. “everyone’s either on their dates or sleeping by now, my sweet.”

elphaba’s green flesh becomes covered in goosebumps as glinda’s warm breath is felt on her cold neck. she pushes glinda’s hair behind her ear that has fallen in front of her face from holding herself up above elphaba. “i want you to touch me,” elphaba whispers, and she can’t believe those dirty words are coming out of her mouth, “i want nothing more in this world.”

glinda smiles. she reaches her hand beneath elphaba’s dress and drags her nails all the way up to her stomach. her cold hand rests there, making all the muscles around her stomach contract.

“glinda,” elphaba says as if there was glue in her throat, trapping her voices there.

“yes, darling?”

the name makes her almost come undone right then and there.

“i need you.”

“i know, i know” glinda gently assures, “can i take this off of you,” she asks, tugging at her black laced dress.

elphaba hums her consent and then helps glinda pull it up and over her head. it only takes just that until she’s left vulnerable in just her bra and panties.

elphie feels like covering her body with one of the blankets. people gag and run when she’s fully clothed. elphaba couldn’t imagine what glinda was thinking.

but if she did know what was going through glinda’s mind, maybe she wouldn’t feel so bad. and so, glinda shares what’s on her mind. because she knows how elphaba feels about herself, and she must know how glinda feels.

“you are beautiful…just breathtaking,” glinda says, quite literally breathless.

“i’m not,” elphaba shakes her head, blushing.

“the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen.”

elphaba doesn’t know how to respond to such compliment that she hadn’t ever received before. matter a fact, any compliment at that. she gently brushes her thumb over glinda’s knuckles to show some appreciation.

glinda leans down, kisses elphaba for a second long enough to question where it’s going, and then she pulls away again and elphaba’s lips pulse with an ache for more.

“elphie, you’re trembling,”

“i’ve never done this,” elphaba says nervously.

“i’ll take care of you,” the blonde assures. she offers a gentle smile to ease her of her anxieties. “do you trust me?”

elphaba nods, genuinely.

glinda then lets her hand drift back down to elphaba’s thigh. elphaba allows her knees to drop down to the floor to gift glinda full access.

elphaba breathes sharply at glinda’s hand being so close to where she needs her so badly. but glinda wants to take her time with her. this is art and she cannot, will not, rush it.

glinda slithers down elphaba’s body and kneels down between her parted legs. she kisses elphaba’s tummy right below her belly button.

“do you want me to take my dress off,” glinda then asks. quietly enough to maintain the gentle atmosphere. “so you’re not all alone.”

elphaba wants to scream a yes. but she has to play it off cool. and she also doesn’t think her voice is working to its best ability right now. “will you?” elphaba settles on.

glinda nods, smiles, and then her fingers reach back to unzip the zipper on her pink dress. she worked so hard to pick out the perfect dress for elphaba’s but, frankly, she was hoping it would end up on the floor anyways.

the pink fabric then fell off her body easily when she slithered her arms out. it ended up being mixed with elphie’s darker clothing in a pile beside them.

elphaba stared up at her, almost as she were enchanted by a spell. like she had gotten shot by cupid’s arrow. glinda prettily batted her eyes at her friend, or lover, or whatever they were right now. that typical face that everyone falls for.

“you’re ravishing,” elphaba said. she thinks it might have been the first time she had complimented glinda. she constantly tried to keep it nonchalant so her feelings for her wouldn’t grow.

“elphie,” glinda blushed, “i wish you’d see that you’re the most.”

glinda then leaned down and picked up elphaba’s thighs, positioning them on her shoulders. elphaba was completely clueless. she had no idea what glinda was doing. but it made her throb. especially when glinda starts kissing her inner thighs.

she kisses every inch so she never can feel that a piece of her isn’t loved. elphaba wants to cry at the care and consideration that glinda shows every part of her, but she blinks the tears back knowing it would only cause her embarrassment.

“can i touch you, my sweetness?” glinda asks, elphaba nods. she can do anything she wants to her. she can ask her to do anything and elphaba would say yes.

with elphie’s approval, glinda hooks her fingers on the top of elphaba’s panties and drags them down her legs until they’re at her ankles for her to kick off. she feels so safe here that glinda could completely rip her open and she’d feel more comfortable than ever.

with elphie’s legs spread and her flower present right in front of her, she gently places her thumb on elphie’s bundle of nerves.

elphaba gasps. it’s an entirely new sensation. one that she wonders how she’s gone so long without. glinda then, slowly but surely, moves her thumb in a circular motion. elphaba’s toes curl and her back slightly arches at the ever so light touch to her clit.

“g— glinda,” elphaba stutters out, trying to figure out how to combine a bunch of syllables to make out what she wants to say. glinda’s thumb slows to a stop. and elphaba can finally piece together words.

“what is it, darling?”

“could you…could you come up here,” elphaba motions towards her face, upper body. “i don’t want to be alone over here.”

glinda giggles, letting elphaba completely melt at the sight of her dimples. elphaba wanted to be so close to her that someone could mistake them for one. glinda then hovers over elphaba’s body like earlier and now places her middle and ring finger against elphaba’s clit.

elphaba gasps again. and now glinda is so close that she can feel her breath against her face. “you’re so sensitive,” glinda mutters. she leans down and kisses the corner of elphaba’s mouth and pulls back in just enough time that it’s considered a tease.

glinda’s fingers get to work against her clit again, which twitched beneath her fingertips. she worked speedier than previous moments ago. elphaba almost let out a throaty moan but she suppressed it with her hand.

“don’t do that. i wanna hear you,” glinda says in a lower voice than elphaba has ever heard her use. the blonde girl grabbed elphaba’s hand with her own free one and pinned it above her head so she couldn’t quiet herself again. intertwining their fingers to make her feel comforted.

glinda leaned down and started kissing elphaba’s soft lips again. the gentleness of the kiss was mostly gone, it was now filled with hot passion.

“glinda,” elphaba whimpered against pink glossy lips. glinda could feel elphaba’s legs shaking against her arm. her thighs starting to close. glinda wasn’t finished with her yet and she didn’t want elphaba to be either.

“shh, i know. can i put my fingers inside of you? i wanna feel you around my fingers so bad.”

elphaba gulped and nodded. she didn’t know how any of this worked. she thought glinda’s fingers were already…inside of her. but then, she felt two slender fingers ease into her dripping hole, and she quickly came to realize what glinda meant.

“glinda— oh!” she didn’t know what else to say. all that could roll off of her tongue was the name of the girl inside of her.

“does it feel good?” glinda asks, despite the obvious sheer look of pleasure on elphaba’s face. she just nodded. her back arched off the floor in suite to glinda curling her fingers inside of her.

elphaba bucked her hips up so glinda’s fingers would thrust deeper inside of her. glinda kept the steady pace, pumping her fingers in and out with her thumb occasionally providing a pleasurable sensation to her clit to near her closer to the edge.

her climax approached her quite quickly, but if she were being honest, she could’ve completely came undone just by a single look of glinda’s.

“glinda, that feels really good i’m…” she didn’t know what. but she knew something was coming. like a wave about to crash on the shore.

“you’re gonna come,” glinda assures. elphaba then, with her hand that isn’t pinned above her, holds onto glinda’s arm that leads down to her heat. “it’s okay. just let it all happen.”

elphaba’s mouth falls open as she hits her climax. glinda holds on tightly to her and lets her ride her high until her body stills and she lays there with her chest heaving. glinda’s looks down at the beautiful mess she’s created with a gentle smile on her face.

elphaba flutters her eyes back open to see that pretty face that she adores. “do you like valentine’s day now?” glinda asked her.

elphaba breathed in sharply, “i think it may be my favorite holiday.”

#gelphie #wlw #wicked #elphaba thropp #glinda upland #ariana grande #cynthia erivo #glinda x elphaba #wicked movie #wicked the musical #glinda the good witch #the wicked witch of the west #gelphie smut

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maxdibert · 1 day ago

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Omg Sansa Starkk!!!! The TV show did her so dirty. Holy shit, they took a complicated layered character (every character of asoiaf is complicated and layered actually) and gave her the most dismissive interpretation possible.

Fuck, when I heard the criticism against game of thrones, it being sexist and the depiction of violence against women, teenager me dismissed it. Then I read the books, and I agree with every criticism 😭

Sansa irritated me in the first couple episodes of season 1, until everything turned and it became a helish nightmare for her and then I felt immense sympathy for her. In the books, she became my instant favorite.

Even Arya had more layers and complexity in the books. Arya was much more human in the books, loved it.

The show assassinated several characters—it didn’t just simplify some, like Sansa, but outright destroyed others. For example, they turned Arya into a complete psychopath, period. The Arya from the last three or four seasons had literally zero personality; she was just a badass who killed people, that’s it. She would put on her psycho killer face, and that was her entire character. She was only there so the male audience could jerk off.

And then there’s Daenerys’ character assassination. And listen, this is coming from someone who can’t stand Daenerys and found her chapters in the books unbearably boring. But even so, I can’t stand it when characters are disrespected in certain ways, and what they did to Daenerys at the end was a complete disgrace. She went from being one of the main characters, always framed as good, positive, and revolutionary by the narrative, to literally a crazy, sociopathic, genocidal maniac—it made zero sense. I’m not saying it couldn’t have happened. Sure, you could spend two more seasons showing how she descends into madness. But don’t do it in three episodes—that’s just pure nonsense. Plain and simple.

And well, WELL—I won’t even get into the rant that is, for me, the biggest crime of the entire trash show: THE CHARACTER ASSASSINATION OF JAIME LANNISTER. Jaime is one of my absolute favorite characters in the saga, and his redemption arc is one of the best I’ve ever seen. It’s truly a masterpiece of storytelling. I can accept that the show’s Jaime was more meh and had less charisma, but what I can’t accept is that after setting up a redemption arc so well, they ended it like that. Like, WHAT. They should have just killed him off during the Long Night—seriously, I wish they had done that. It would have been less painful. What a complete disaster.

Anyway, back to Sansa. She has always been my favorite character from the very beginning, in both the books and the show. I also think she’s a particularly interesting character when it comes to analyzing misogyny within fandoms. Both book Sansa and show Sansa get endless hate for one simple reason: she’s a normal girl. Sansa isn’t a dragon queen, she isn’t a ruler, she isn’t a rebel like her sister. Sansa is just a regular aristocratic girl with regular dreams for a girl of her age and status—someone who has always lived in a bubble. And her reactions, her doubts, and her fears are exactly what any normal person in her situation would have.

And that’s what audiences can’t stand—first, because she’s a reflection of themselves, since most people would act and react like Sansa, not like Arya. And second, because in a patriarchal view of women, a female character is only acceptable if she has traditionally masculine traits (she leads like a man, fights like a man, speaks like a man). A female character with flaws, whose personality isn’t masculine but also doesn’t cater to male fantasies, is unacceptable—so she becomes a constant target.

So yeah, as I’ve been saying for over ten years: hating Sansa Stark is misogyny, and I will not elaborate on this because I don’t do free education for misogynists.

#a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #game of thrones #got #sansa stark #daenerys targaryen #jaime lannister #arya stark #misogynistic #misoginy in fiction

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keisenthusiast · 2 days ago

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pov: you are dating oikawa tooru

[oikawa tooru+fluff+dating+headcanon]

words count: 754

dating oikawa tooru is basically like dating someone who is both your biggest headache and your biggest fan. he’s dramatic, he’s affectionate, he’s confident—except when he’s not, and that’s when you see the real him. the one that’s overworked, constantly trying to prove himself, and secretly a little insecure. but if there’s one thing that never changes, it’s how much he adores you. he’s also one of the most devoted boyfriends you could ever have. he loves loudly. he makes sure you know exactly how much he adores you, whether it’s through grand gestures, teasing texts, or random compliments that leave you speechless.

he is so proud to be with you. it doesn’t matter how long you’ve been dating, he still acts like he’s trying to impress you. one time, he played an entire practice match better than usual just because you were watching. iwaizumi literally dragged him by the collar afterward like, “stop showing off, trashykawa.” he’s so in love with you, and he makes sure you and everyone else knows it.

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 things he does:

- sends you soooo many selfies. sometimes he looks good, sometimes he’s making the ugliest face possible. usually with captions like "thinking about u~" or "this is the face of a man in love with u (lucky u!)" either way, he expects compliments.

- keeps a picture of you in his volleyball bag. not just on his phone, but physically. when makki and mattsun found out, they would not shut up about it.

- walks you home after practice, even if his legs are dead tired, because “what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you go alone?”

- insists on braiding your hair if it’s long enough, “trust me, i have an older sister, i know what i’m doing.” if it’s short, he just plays with it absentmindedly when you sit next to him!

- sometimes steals your hoodies, your hair ties, your snacks—anything that belongs to you, he will claim.

- insists on calling you his [y/n], like it’s a title. “sorry, i have plans with my [y/n] today,” he’ll say dramatically, hand over his chest like he’s the most devoted boyfriend in the world.

- very touchy. a hand on your waist, fingers brushing against yours, a kiss on your forehead before a match—absolutely demands a good luck kiss before every game. even if it’s just a forehead tap or a quick peck on the cheek, he won’t step on the court without it.

- loves taking couple pictures. like, a ridiculous amount. “wait, wait, the lighting is good here—one more!!”

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 how he handles arguments:

- oikawa is stubborn. and sometimes, his pride gets the better of him. when you two argue, he tends to react on instinct, maybe gets a little defensive at first, a little whiny “but that’s not what i meant—”. but once he cools down, he really cools down. he’s self-aware enough to know when he’s being immature, and even if it takes him a few hours, he will come back and apologize properly.

- step one: pout dramatically somewhere nearby, making it obvious he’s sulking.

step two: rethink everything he said, realize he was kind of dumb, groan into his hands.

step three: find you, hug you from behind, and sigh deeply “okay, okay, i get it. i was wrong.”

step four: bury his face into your shoulder and dramatically whine about how much he missed you in the last three hours of not talking.

- he’s not afraid to admit when he messes up because he hates being on bad terms with you. he’d rather swallow his pride than stay upset, but he also makes sure to explain how he feels, too. he wants you to understand why he acted a certain way, not just say sorry and move on.

𖦹 ׂ 𓈒 how things is with his fans..?:

- you definitely get some side-eyes from his fangirls, but oikawa is surprisingly firm about it. he likes that people admire him, but he loves you. and he makes that clear.

- oikawa, to his credit, is never dismissive about your feelings. if you ever feel uncomfortable or overwhelmed, he takes it seriously. he reassures you constantly, never giving you a reason to doubt his feelings.

- whenever someone crosses the line—like leaving mean comments about you, he doesn’t hesitate to shut it down, “if you respect me, you should respect my relationship, too.”

- he also makes it obvious he’s taken. posting pictures with you, walking you home, literally introducing you as his girlfriend, it’s impossible to mistake it.

also, i kinda want to talk about this:

i saw some people on tt talking about this n someone said "she probably dumped him because he's flirty with his fans" hmmm i don't think so 😊 i feel like it was probably more about his obsession with volleyball. we've literally see how intense he is with vb, his entire life revolves around the sport. i wouldn’t be surprised if he neglected his relationship without realizing it, which would obviously a much bigger issue. so yeah, i doubt it was because of the fangirls. but like, it hasn't been confirmed so..

i apologize if there's any mischaracterization!

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waterihardlyknowher · 2 days ago

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Heellooo this is my first time writing anything or posting anything on tumblr, I hope you like it 😊 all notes are accepted and wanted!!

I decided to write this as the PlayStation network servers were down so I couldn’t get the jjk wave 2 skins 💔

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Warnings: Includes smut, language, little bit of Mei slander, Gojo’s a jock basically, both you and Nanami are switches, reader is a BRAT, cum licking

Tags?: smut, cum licking, little bit of hand necklace, P in V, fingering [let me know if I should add more!]

“…anyways, as I was saying the community response to such servers being down has drastically…”

The sounds of the tall man infront of you slowly drowns out as you start to tune out of what he was saying. This tall, attractive man was explaining some big shot important men project that you truly did not care to listen into.

His tall stature in a devilishly dark blue suit, to match his blue eyes, leans in closer as he continues explaining. This guy had to be the one your boyfriend always complained of. The big boss with white hair whom never took the time out of his day to talk to his male employees, yet always somehow ended up in “personal” meetings with his assistants.

As his voice begins meshing into the background of the party, you began to steal a moment to truly look around the room. You were in a huge ballroom, one of those incredibly expensive sky high places right dab in the middle of New York City.

The walls and ceiling were covered in lights, like fireflies littering every space possible. Large crowds of people in black tie attire, from women in sparkly silk dresses to men in black suits.

You yourself were quite dressed up, stunting a beautiful floor length red dress with a slit that meets right at your thigh. You’ve always been told red was your color, from red hair in highschool, to the red lipstick you always wore on special occasions.

An incredibly stupid event if anyone were to truly ask you, but you were only here to be accompany to your wonderful boyfriend. Though, you had lost track of him hours ago.

*ahemn* “I apologize, you’ve caught me in a talkative mood! Now, why again did you say you were here?” The tall man says, snapping you back into the present.

“Oh yes right, I’m here supporting my boyfriend.” You say admittedly trying to seem as though you were listening the whole time.

“Ah yes, I mean of course a woman of your beauty would not be here alone.” He grins, trying to steal a compliment your way.

“Thank you, but speaking of which I better go find him” you always hated these kinds of guys, always giving just too much attention to the women to try to get into their pants. You knew exactly this guys game.

“You can always come back if you don’t find him” he winks “It’s Satoru by the way, in case you forgot it”

Had you already forgotten his name? The conversation had started just moments before yet it felt like a century of listening to this guy go on and on about economy.

You didn’t even pay him the kindness of responding as you walk away. It felt about time to find the one you came with anyway, you had arrived together but got torn apart about halfway through the party.

Checking your phone, the time was now about 7:30 pm. You weren’t sure what time the party would end but wanted it to end sooner than later.

Walking away from the tall man known as “Satoru”, you walk up the stairs of the ballroom. This place was huge, only a company of incredibly high regard could afford a place like this. The first floor was cluttered with black tall tables all around a bar placed right in the center. Bartenders working quickly to fulfill the orders of the businessmen and women surrounding them. With huge floor to ceiling windows, anyone could see anything from the inside. As well as from the outside. You wondered how many people in there apartments might be watching, envious of the people who call themselves the “higher ups”.

As this thought ponders in your mind you make your way up the first couple of steps, not interested in going completely upstairs. Up there would only house a long hallway leading those who dared to the bathrooms of the establishment.

Darting your eyes around you try to find your partner in the crowds of people. Making eye contact with some of them. Another tall dark haired man pulled back into a bun stylishly wearing a black tuxedo, talking to another woman with a beauty mark stunting a dress similar, but shorter than yours in white. A trio of a pink haired man wearing a matching pink suit, a dark haired man wearing an all black suit, and a woman sporting a flattering long purple dress.

None of these people are the one you want to see, you’ve actually almost began to worry.

“If you keep standing there like a lost puppy dog people will begin to notice, you know.” A deep voice breaks your train of thought.

Below you is a handsome man with blonde hair, and unlike anyone else there, dressed in a tan suit sticking out like a sore thumb. You most definitely didn’t notice him, to occupied observing your far surroundings to notice the man approaching.

“If all begin to notice though, then hopefully the one I’m looking for will find me” you say, stepping down a couple of steps to meet the man’s gaze.

“Well, whatever bastard left you alone might not deserve being back in your grace.” his eyes began to trace your body. The soft curls framing your face, the one stray on your left side cutely fraying upward away from the rest. The curls lead down to the heart line of your dress, seductive red hugging your body in all the right places, only complimented by the tease of the slit in your dress.

You drop down a stair, getting closer and forcing his eyes to follow yours down. “Maybe if he begs enough I’ll forgive him.”

The blonde man shamelessly rocked his eyes between your breasts, lips, and eyes. You couldn’t help but repay the favor by snaking your eyes down his figure. His tan suit fit perfectly, complimented by his blue undershirt hugging his muscles. Every fiber of his clothing knowing exactly what to do to make him irresistible.

You drop down the rest of the stairs to meet his side, turning yourself to face him and his shoulder. Perching up on your tip toes, guiding your hands up his arm to meet his shoulder. Whispering in his ear, “If I didn’t know you’d get fired for it, I’d fuck you in front of everyone in here. Nanami.”

You see the blood rush to his face and his ears, the tell all sign of his approval. Turning his face towards you a little he responds, “I don’t think I’d care if I got fired for it.” Darting his eyes between yours and your lips.

You giggle, god you loved this game. An unspoken game created by you, if you remembered correctly. An honest mistake really, at a work event of your own you didn’t recognize his voice from behind you and treated him very absentmindedly as a coworker, not your lover. Neither of you would realize the arousal it would cause until later that night.

Taking yourself off his shoulder you shove him a little, forcing him to face you at the bottom of the stairs. “Where did you run off too anyways?”

Letting out a groan he responds, “Ugh god, I got stuck talking with my fucking co-lead on the project at work, Higuruma”

“Awh, poor baby” you tut, playfully jutting out your bottom lip. “You could not have possibly had it worse than I did, I got stuck with your boss Satoru.”

At that, his shoulders tensed a bit. You knew he didn’t like him, but not that much. “Love I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let us get separated like that. Especially seeing as I’m the only one you know here” he says, closing the distance between you two more, he places his hands on your forearms running his hands down to meet yours. Playfully picking them up and placing a kiss on them.

“Oh you sick love fool, I was fine anyways. Possibly could’ve won me a one way ticket to pound town if I didn’t have my eyes out for someone else.” You say pulling one of your hands away from his, leaving the one left to lead him closer to the windows. No one else was really around you two, everyone else preferring to gather around the bar, aside from the small groups of those talking.

Nanami groans at your last comment, “In that case, I’d gladly get fired for fucking you right in front of him.” Lightly squeezing your still held hands before dropping it, repositioning it around your waist as you stare into the city.

“Oh now that sounds like a plan” you laugh hitting his pec with your hand and leaving it there turning a little to him.

God he was so beautiful in this light. The amount of alcohol you had to consume to put up with Satoru began to finally hit you, feeling the tension between you slightly thicker than usual. His blonde hair was perfectly combed back, the same professional hairdo you’d see him stroll out the door with every morning. His tan suit, making it impossible for you to focus any time he spoke. “Leaving nothing up to the imagination” would not be an accurate statement, cause you indeed did know what was underneath. Yet you couldn’t help yourself imagine and linger on the ideas-

“Oh my god! Is that Kento! Just my favorite sexy businessman I wanted to see tonight.” That comment made both you and Nanami turn around. Behind you stood a white haired women, hair tied back into a braid. Now, if you thought your dress was revealing it would be nothing compared to her cut out dark purple dress. Revealing the most amount of underboob that made you wonder how the dress was staying up on her.

“Mei. I believe everyone in the office talked about being here tonight.” Nanami retorts, the tiniest bit of annoyance that only you’d catch. The kind of annoyance he gets when a child asks stupid questions.

You believe youve heard him talk about her before, the woman who loves to refer to herself as his “work wife” though he’d make sure you knew he felt otherwise.

Turning yourselves more, you stood infront of her with Nanami’s arm still around your waist. Your arms crossed over one another just simply observing the situation unfolding around you.

“Oh, I’m sorry miss I didn’t see you standing there. You must be a friend? I’m Mei Mei, Kento’s work wife as everyone around the office calls me!” She reaches out her hand to shake yours, completely ignoring your closed off posture to pull your hand out and shake. The way she uses his first name makes your skin crawl. He’s told you before the only one who is allowed to use his first name is you, especially while riding him.

“Actually Mei, I believe you’re the only one who calls yourself that. Besides, this is my actual, and only, wife.” Nanami responds giving your waist a little squeeze and rubbing it way with his hand. Your heart flutters a little, out of excitement of him referring to you as such, but also out of a little disappointment in that you were in-fact not his wife.

If only you could have taken a picture of the face Mei made once processing the words he had said. Completely falling, and plastering a slight grimace she pulled her hand back off of yours letting both her hands prop on her hips.

“Oh, hah. That’s funny he’s never mentioned you before. Anyway, I better go. I believe I hear Satoru calling my name.” Mei says point blank, bashfully ignoring the obvious lie she had just retorted.

Turning on her heels Mei walks away with an awful sway in her hips, trying to make both her braid and her ass swish more than plausible.

You and Nanami share a glance before laughing with one another. “God she really is awful, I thought you were being dramatic” you say.

“Absolutely not, I don’t think the best author in the world could convey how heinous her company is.” Turning to make you face him he cups his hand onto your face, keeping his other on your waist. He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead, rubbing his thumb along your cheek as he does. “No matter what she says, you are the only woman I love.”

He always knew the slight anxiety placed in the back of your head at all times, not your fault really. You thought it just came with having the most beautiful boyfriend in the entire world. “I liked that you called me that.” You say pushing your face into his hand.

“What, my love?”

“Wife.”

Nanami’s lips crease into a grin, keeping his hand on your face, he closes the distance between you two and kisses you. His classic gentle kiss, just simply placing his onto yours. “I think this party is about over, care for an after party with me?”

You playfully push yourself away from his touch backing up a little, “Ew you’re so romantic I hate it.”

“Sure you do.” He responds with a boyish grin.

You lead the way as he follows you out toward the parking garage. Though, it took longer than you’d hope. Continuing to get stopped, Nanami would have to exchange a few “Nice to see you” “See you at the office” “Don’t drink too much”, between every other person he saw. But you couldn’t complain, you always enjoyed seeing him in his element. Even if he didn’t like the people he worked with, he was always such a sweetheart. Watching his face light up to make sure the person knew they were listened to, and seen by him. You couldn’t help but feel your heart swell a little knowing he was in-fact yours.

Finally arriving to the parking garage Nanami unlocks and opens the passenger side door to allow you room to hop up. Unexpectedly, before you could turn, Nanami grabs the back of your neck planting another kiss on you. This one, unlike the other, was deeper and more sensual. In this kiss, he would move his lips in between yours, embracing you in a deeper French kiss. He couldn’t help his other hand to place on your exposed thigh, gripping tightly as to not let you move away from the kiss.

Your hand finds his on your thigh, placing it there before moving up his arm to repay his strong grip. Nanami’s thumb gently taps your jawline, asking for, or possibly demanding you to open your lips to him. You can’t help but obey as he slips his tongue into your mouth. At that, you let out a groan behind his tongue arching your back to meet his touch all over you.

As unexpectedly as it happened, it stopped. Nanami pulled back from you breathlessly gasping a little before smiling at you without a word, pushing your legs forward before shutting the door.

God was he a tease. But so were you.

Nanami walks to the driver side and hops in, starting the car and beginning the drive home. He knew exactly what he had done to you, and you couldn’t help but repay the favor.

The car full to the brim with tension, the only thing breaking the silence was the radio. Though, you couldn’t focus on the radio, rather focusing on the heat rising in between your legs. You loved this Nanami. The striking, slightly demanding Nanami. Using what was his. And most nights you loved getting used by him, praising words ringing through your ears as he pushed you up and down his length. But tonight felt different. Possibly the large amount of alcohol you had, or possibly the irritating Mei egging you on.

The drive home was probably only 20 minutes, but without traffic and the tension of what happened, Nanami could make it home in 12. So you had to do this quick.

As Nanami was distracted turning a right on red you knew he’d have to look your way, even if only for a moment. Knowing this, you began to touch yourself. Slowly at first, simply drawing a finger from your collar bone down to your breasts. Opening your palm you glide your hand over your clothed boobs, slightly massaging your nipples through the fabric.

You absolutely got off knowing Nanami was watching you, but to make sure you glanced his way. Seeing him eyeing you down while trying, painfully, to watch the road.

From there, you glide your hand over your stomach to the rising heat in your legs. You hadn’t even touched yourself fully and you could feel your breath hitch. Laying your head back into the head rest, letting your back arch a bit into your touch, you take your hand up the slit in your dress to finally make some contact with yourself even if through fabric.

Nanami groaned and tried to reach his hand over. He tried to grab your wrist to stop you, but you had the upper hand of well, another hand. Pushing him away you turn your head to face him. Making direct eye contact, you finally begin to rub yourself through your underwear.

The car jerks as Nanami tries to throw off your balance and get your hand off of you, but unsuccessfully. You should arrive home in about, 6 minutes. With such little time to work Nanami up, you had to go faster.

Opening your legs wider, you lift a leg up resting it on the car door. Your fingers push aside your soaked fabric and finally lay way to your cunt. At this point, your breath is quick and pained. So much arousal flowing through you knowing and seeing Nanami’s discomfort at watching you pleasure yourself.

Arching your back to allow better access, you roll your fingers between your folds, already incredibly wet from the entire night. Brought on even worse by the alcohol you consumed.

From your peripheral, you could see the car approaching a yellow light, then turning red.

Fuck.

As soon as the car stopped Nanami turns completely to you keeping his eyes locked on yours, pulling your hand away from its place. “Fucking slut, you couldn’t wait until we got home.” Roughly grabbing your jawline planting a kiss onto your lips.

His hand locked your wrist midair while his other forced your face into a kiss. Only a couple more minutes you thought.

Breaking away from the kiss to speak you say, “Cause my husband left me alone with my thoughts. What did you think would happen to a girl left all alone in a room full of attractive men? Especially high off alcohol.”

Nanami’s hand is holding your face, unable to hide the dissatisfaction in his face and voice. “That’s too bad really, cause I couldn’t keep my eyes off you all night. Watching you look for me, while pushing away any guy who came up to you.” Tightening the grip on his other hand, holding the hand you used to pleasure yourself moments ago, he tuts “I even had to run off to the bathroom a couple times to rub one out at the thought of you so obsessed with me, and only me.” His eyes darkening as he responded.

At that, you couldn’t help but push your thighs closer together to feel even the slightest bit friction. He knew his dirty talk was only pushing you worse and worse toward dissatisfaction. Even letting out a small grin at your thighs pushing together more.

Your eyelids grew closer together as you questioned, “So you get to touch yourself to the thought of me, but I can’t do it in return?”

“Why would I let you do that when I can do it myself.”

*BEEP*

Pulling you both out of your thoughts you snap forward, leaving the contact of eachother at the sound of a car behind you. You were simply sitting at a green light. Nanami focuses back in the best he can, you would be home in only a couple minutes. But god he might crash if he doesn’t focus. The uncomfortable tent in his pants being the only thing in his mind right now. So painfully tight, and the way he was sitting pushed pressure on his tip harshly.

“You really are such a hypocrite, Nanami.” He was distracted for only a moment, but looking back to you the sight he saw could’ve made him crash right then.

Your legs had resumed their spots, pushed apart, with your hands back between your legs. Finally feeling the friction you had so desperately wanted, rubbing and pinching one hand around your clit. The other hand, dipped your ring and middle finger into your cunt. Keeping your eyes completely locked onto Nanami’s, now unable to focus on the road, you let out a pornagraphic moan leaning your head back further into the head rest.

The displeasure plastered on Nanami’s face only spurred you on more, but sure, you needed more. You needed to feel his cock plowing through your folds to meet the spots you can’t reach with your fingers. But you knew at this sight before him, he would not hold back later.

Still pleasing yourself, you began to move your fingers quicker inside your pussy, trying desperately to hit your g-spot. Rubbing faster and faster on your clit, you can feel the heat tightening in your core.

Nanami’s eyes forced themselves away from yours, making sure that you’d both at least get home in one piece. As for later, he’d make sure you didn’t end up in one piece.

Furrowing your brows at Nanami’s composure, your sounds began flowing over the radio. The lewd noise of your pussy getting wetter and wetter as the time passed, and your moans getting louder in annoyance of loosing his gaze.

You’d not looked at the road for awhile, until you felt the car harshly turn into the driveway. Nanami took that turn purposefully to hard, and to fast, to push you off your balance. Which he had successfully done, as the fingers inside of you slipped out, instead trying to catch yourself on the car door.

Trying to gain any composure you had, you let both your hands leave between your thighs. Nanami quickly parked and tried grabbing you. But before he could catch you, you hopped out of the car and sprinted toward the door.

Giggling to yourself you fumbled with the key that you had in your shoe, to pull out and open the door. Hearing the car completely shut off and large feet hit the concrete. Shutting the door painfully hard Nanami tries to stride over quickly. “Don’t you fucking dare-“ trying to grab you, again unsuccessful.

You had opened the door just in time to push yourself inside and shut the door on Nanami, locking it. You knew he had a key, and would only gain you a couple moments. But a couple moments nonetheless to hide.

Inside, the doorway opened to a large living room and kitchen situated parallel to eachother. The beautiful home both you and Nanami worked hard to build together. But not the time to relish in that, you quicken your pace to the end of the hall to the stairs, quickly running up them as you hear Nanami finally open the door. Slower, though, than he chose to open the car door.

Getting up the stairs you rush to the end of another hall, opening the door, meet with your lovely bedroom. Just a moment of thought as you stand in the doorway, pondering on where to hide.

“I got you.” Nanami retorts right in your ear before capturing your figure in his arms, forcing you to let out a breath as his arms wrap around your waist and pick you up.

Letting out a laugh you let yourself slump into his figure still positioned in the door way, “Awh man you should’ve given me more time to hide.”

“Tsk tsk tsk, no can do my love. Not after that.” Nanami walks you both over to your bed placing you face down against the sheets. Slowly, painfully so, he guides his hands from your waist, to your hands, placing them above you. You couldn’t help but turn your face a little to see his eyes, dark with lust and focus.

Placing a sweet kiss on your shoulder he moves his hands to meet your zipper, finally exposing your skin.

“My god you’re so beautiful. If only you weren’t such a brat to me.” Following after your zipper he places kisses down your spine, stopping at your lower back.

“Oh but Nanami, really? You got to touch yourself all night to me and I can’t do it for what.. 12 minutes?” You say, voice dripping in seduction.

Nanami guides the straps of your dress off with your arms, gently placing them back in their spot above your head. “Actually, no, you cannot do that my love.” After freeing your arms from your dress he guides the rest of the fabric off your body, exposing your matching lace strapless bra and panties. “Fuck.” He says placing himself on top of you, face flush with your ear and at such an angle to rub his bludge against you. “You feel that? That’s what your little show did to me. We both know your small fingers can’t reach the places that my dick could. Fuck even my fingers could reach further.”

Placing his hands at your waist he keeps you still as he rubs his tent up and down your ass. “You in that fucking tight red dress. Flirting your doe eyes at Satoru. Fuck. You knew I was watching, didn’t you? You got off knowing I was fuming seeing you even enjoy his company at all.” His hips began to dip down further, harder, into your cheek.

“Maybe I did.” You let out a deep groan at the heavy pressure of his body weight on you, unable to move. “Maybe I got off on knowing that, but I still didn’t get to touch myself. Asshole.”

Groaning at your defiance, Nanami’s hands on your waist tighten as he flips you over to face him. “I’ll make you come so hard around my fingers you’ll never even think about touching yourself alone.” his eyes dark with anger, or possibly, arousal?

Face to face with Nanami now, you flutter your eyelashes, making yourself seem more innocent or fearful than Nanami knew you were. “Did your hand satisfy you enough? Is that why you’re so mad now?” You tut out pushing back on his dirty talk. “Did fucking your fist not feel as good as my hands around it? Flicking your slit just the way I know you like it? Or were you too busy thinking about my mouth going up and down the veins in your dick-“

Forcing you to stop your talking Nanami kisses you hard into the bed. Letting out a groan, signaling that your words were having just the effect you wanted on him. You remember that you’re free to move your hands, finding their place in his under cut. Both your hands surround his head pulling him impossibly closer to you.

His hands begin to wander up your torso and rubs your breasts through your bra. You rewarded his touch with a small moan, arching your back into his touch.

Suddenly he completely stands, completely off of you standing straight. “Tsk you slut. You love this don’t you. Love driving me crazy. Love this dirty talk.” Making direct eye contact with you he finally freed his skin from underneath his suit. Completely losing his suit jacket and button up, his beautiful chest was out for you to look at. God, it was like he was chiseled out of marble the way his biceps flexed to guide his hands to his belt. His abs flexing at the knowledge of what would happen next.

Nanami being completely off of you gave you some room to move back, choosing to slide all the way to the headboard of the bed. Resting your back against it, you watched Nanami undress beside the bed.

As his pants fell his boxers finally had enough room to free his bulge a little. Not enough to cause any satisfaction though. Studying his body in the same state of undress as you, “You know. From how hard your dick is right now I’d say you’re getting off from this too. Kento.”

Oh how he loved when you used his first name. No one was allowed to use it but you of course, and he all but hated Mei Mei for using it ever. Choosing to finally let his erect shaft free, Nanami pulls his boxers completely off to meet his pants on the floor.

His dick was so hard that it stood perfectly up, seemingly laying against his navel. The tiniest bit of precum was leaking from its tip, painting his shaft a glossy shiny film that continued to travel down to its base.

While laying against the headboard, you spread your legs wider for Nanami to see the same sight between your legs. Practically dripping onto the bed already, your lace panties barely held any liquid back from your cunt. You placed your hand over your clothed center, needing to feel some friction.

Nanami crossed the distance between you, propping himself in front of you on his heels. “Now. Isn’t that what got you into this situation, my love?” Gripping your wrist away from yourself, similar to how he had done in the car. Pulling your arm up to him, he threw it around his shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist embracing you in a kiss. This one was a sweet one, almost apologetic to what he knew he was going to do to you. He lightly grips your waist as your other hand meets yours around his neck.

You couldn’t help but try to lift up one of your legs, to at the very least, get some friction on his dick. Still passionately kissing, your leg slides up his thigh and to his side. One leg still planted on the bed, you rub your heated core against his dick, feeling the veins run slightly against your clit.

“F-Fuck… Nanami….” your breath quickening by the second.

“What my love?” He asks, pulling away. “Please? Do you want to ask me so nicely to finally fuck you?”

You felt his shoulders slightly relax at his own words. Surging the moment, you take your hands from around his neck and push him, hard.

Letting his back hit the bed he lets out a laugh, positioning his legs from under him to lay flat.

“As if I’d ever beg you.” Raising yourself up onto his lower abdomen, you begin to lean forward and backward, rubbing your clothed pussy against his abs. His hands find your hips, in a way, helping you rub yourself against him. You throw your head back in pleasure.

“Oh love. We both know you have. If you weren’t so drunk right now you’d be begging me to fuck you so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.” He huffs, his own breath beginning to quicken at the thoughts racing through his head. You rocked your hips against his abs, making him wet with your own juices.

“Fuck.” You mutter out, feeling the desperation grow in your stomach. As you place your hands on his pecs, you glance downward to meet his eyes. His eyes locked onto yours, admiring you using him. “It doesn’t matter if I’m drunk Kento, you love being used.” Your pussy started clenching at nothing but your own words. “My own little fuck toy I get to use.”

He grips your hips tighter, and rolls his head back a little, bucking his hips upward to try and grab some friction. He lets out a groan before grabbing the sides of your panties and ripping them.

“God I need to feel you. Please.” Nanami says, pulling the now ripped panties from between your legs and tossing them off the bed. Nothing between you and his abs now, your clit finally gets direct contact with the curves and valleys of his abs.

Needing to feel more stimulation than his abs, you move yourself further down to his erect dick. Placing your folds around his members you move up and down, pussy fucking him.

“Like this Nanami? You like that?” You say, slowing your hips down. Feeling his tip rub against your clit, stealing a moan from your lips. Nanami’s head leans back at the sensation, groaning at your stunt. He couldn’t help but feel annoyed at your defiance, he guessed he didn’t really clarify what he meant by ‘feeling’ you.

“S-stop. You’re not cumming like that.” Nanami lifts himself up to meet you face to face, gripping your waist tight as he raises you up.

Nanami wraps an arm around you holding you up. Pressing your chest to him, you guide your hands up his chest and his neck, resting your hands in his under cut. As you pepper kisses over his face, he uses his other hand to guide his dick to your entrance. “You’re so wet” he groans looking up to meet your eyes, simply rubbing his tip through your folds.

Your breath is incredibly fast now, feeling so needy but pushing through the want to beg him to fuck you. “Cause ah- you keep teasing me.” You breathily respond.

“Tell me what you want” Nanami says, still staring longingly into your eyes. Your fingers in his undercut swirl around in circles as your thumbs caress under his ears. He abruptly stops moving his tip around you, waiting for a response.

“I want…” your breath getting caught in your throat “I want you to fuck me, make me cum around your dick and-“ Nanami starts moving his tip again circling around your clit making it harder to focus on your words, “shit- ah.” Breaking the eye contact you force your eyes shut leaning your head back and arching into his touch, moving your hips around to steal more pleasure from his movements, “cum inside of me, and then lick it all out of me.” you slightly groan at the last part of your thought, it was something you couldn’t keep your mind off of the entire night.

“Mmmhm, look at me” Nanami says, unable to grip your jaw to make you seeing as his hands were preoccupied. You couldn’t help but obey as you look back into his eyes, he clicks his tongue. “Tsk. What?”

Still grinding against his tip, unable to move downward to force him inside because of his tip, you respond “Please. Ah- Ken. Please.”

“Good girl.” He says, embracing you in a kiss, before pushing you down onto his dick. Taking a gasp from you, you kiss him back before moaning into his mouth at the sensation. Finally some relief from a tension built up all night, you feel his dick push through any resistance in your walls. He stops halfway onto his dick to give you a second to adjust. “Doesn’t matter how many times I fuck this pussy, you’re always so tight for me” Nanami coos, snaking his hand that was on his base up your body, unclipping your bra with one hand to pull of your arms. Unable to protest, your still pushed into his body by his arm, being forced to adjust to his size as he moves your arms to get your bra off.

One of your hands is still in his hair as the other slides down to his shoulder, pushing it. You weren’t trying to escape his grasp, or maybe you possibly were, you just needed something to grab to release the pleasant pain shooting through you. You could feel every vein of his cock pulsing through you, teasing you without any movement other than the blood rushing into his dick.

Your breasts now free for him, one of his hands finds one of them to cup into his hand and massage as his mouth finds the other. As his hand openly squeezes your breast, his mouth assaults the other planting wet hot kisses into your nipple. “Fu- yeah yeah I like that, Ken.” Finally adjusted to his length you push yourself all the way down his dick, your core making contact with his base.

At that, both of you gasp and moan at finally being completely connected. Nanami’s hand and mouth leave your breasts, his hand rather taking place around your neck, gently holding you and making your face meet his. “You like that, slut? Like being full to the brim with my dick?” With his arm around your waist, he had complete control of your movements. He started moving you slowly up and down his shaft, taking it agonizing slow, making you feel every pump and twitch of his dick.

Your walls clenched around him, feeling satisfied with your position, moaning and closing your eyes. His hand around your neck meant you couldn’t lean back, but you pushed your head back breathing at the feeling of his dick. “Yeah. Ah- I like that Ken. F-fuck, make me come Kento.”

At your permission, Nanami starts pushing you up and down his length faster, moving his hips up off the bed to meet your hips everytime you came down. He moves his hand off your neck to wiggle down between the two of you, planting soft circles around your clit.

The overstimulation of both his dick and his hands made your body shiver and convulse in satisfaction. Feeling the familiar sensation in your stomach as he moved you up and down. You throw your arms over his shoulders to plant your face in his neck, biting and kissing at his collarbone before licking your tongue up his neck to his ear. “Yeah ah- you’re making me feel so good Ken,” you coo, feeling his dick twitch at your voice. His head is slightly leaned back, pushing against your head as he listens “You wanna make me come around your dick? Let me milk you over and over again?”

Nanami’s pace quickens as he listens to your praises and approval, his fingers start digging into your side as his hand pushes harder against your clit as well. Gaining a moan from you, placed directly into his ear.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum before you do” he says, in an almost whinny tone. His pace starts faltering the tiniest amount as he feels his balls tighten, a clear signal of his soon release.

Still places praises in his ear, you pick up his faltering pace yourself. Quickening it even more as you feel the coil in your stomach tightening as well. “Yeah? Yeah I’d like you to come, I wanna feel your cum fill me up. I wanna milk your dick Kento.” Groaning against your words Nanami rubs faster and faster on your clit, feeling your walls tightening around him the same time his shaft begins to twitch.

Nanami moans and finally releases into you, shooting spurts of hot cum directly into your cunt. He bites down into your neck as he keeps cumming, feeling you squeeze him. The overwhelming feeling of his hand stimulating your clit and his dick pouring his white liquids into you, you also release with a moan.

Nanami’s firm grasp only tightens as he slowly grinds you through both of your highs, your nails dig into his back leaving crescent shapes all over his upper back. Both your orgasms come down slowly, as you place yourself at his base.

You both breathe heavily, trying to regain your strength after an intense orgasm. Nanami’s head lifts from the valley of your neck to look at you. Moving his hand from between the two of you, he tucks your hair behind your ear and traces his thumb along your jawline. Stopping at your chin, he holds your face before placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

Returning his kiss you both slowly make out, as he leans you back against the bed. Your head hits the pillows softly as his kiss lead to the corner of your mouth, down your neck and into your collar bone. Placing gentle kisses he sucks slightly on your collar bone as he pulls out of you. You groan at the loss of feeling him, feeling a bit of cum leaking out of you.

Nanami’s kisses trace down to your boobs as he gropes as massages them again, sucking on one nipple before moving to the other, showing them equal love. Your back arches as your head digs deeper into your pillow.

Sighing, Nanami grabs your hips and he kisses down your stomach, to your navel and stopping. He hooks his arms under your legs as he throws them over his shoulders.

You look down to make eye contact with him as he moves further down, closer and closer to your pussy. Your hand snakes down your body to rest in his hair, that is completely disheveled. Only made worse by your hand now in it, grasping down on his scalp.

Nanami looks at you as he sticks his tongue out and licks, from the very bottom of your hole to your clit. Collecting all of the juices that might’ve spilled from you. Gasping, your eyes close at the sensation, still incredibly sensitive from the orgasm.

“Tsk. Watch me love.” Nanami says, pulling back from between your thighs. “Watch me as I lick my cum out of you.” Your eyes open reluctantly to meet his, a boyish grin plastered across his face at your obedience.

“Good girl, just like that.” It takes everything in you to not close your eyes and rear your head back, to simply revel in the pleasure. But Nanami’s intense gazes makes you unable to look away. His grin disappears between your thighs, as he gets closer and closer, breathing on your cunt. “Fuck, you look like you could cum again.”

“Nanami, please.” You whine out, angry with his teasing. He feels himself grow hard at your whines, deciding to finally give into what you wanted most. He lays his tongue flat against your pussy to lick all the way up again, before cupping his tongue into your hole. He tongue fucks you, as you feel him swallow every ounce of cum leaking from you.

The overwhelming sensation starts sending you toward an edge again, gripping him tighter you begin to ride his face. He gladly allows you to use him, muttering through your folds “Fuck, you needy slut. Want to come around my fingers?” He asks, gently placing his thumb to your hole as his tongue wraps around your clit.

Your hips buck at the feeling, your arousal prominent and building as every second passes. Enough time since your orgasm you feel the familiar coil begin to tighten in your womb.

Nanami slips his index and middle finger through your folds, pumping in and out as your walls clench around his fingers. His tongue still assaults your clit as you gasp “Ugh, yeah yeah like that.” Your head falls back to the bed the same time your back arches into his touch.

He turns his hand inside of you, changing the position of his fingers to hook upward in you searching for, and finding, your g-spot. At the feeling of it hit at the same time he sucks harshly on your clit, you gasp out a pornographic moan, incredibly close to release.

“Yeah, my love, ride my face.” He says before quickening his pace, tongue circling faster and fingers digging and pushing.

His nasty words send you over the edge, finishing all over his fingers. Your walls pulse and squeeze as his fingers slow, and halt inside of you, his tongue still pleasing you through your orgasm.

As you fall from your high, you open your eyes to pear down as Nanami pulls his fingers out of you and raises on his elbows to meet your gaze. Slowly, he places his fingers in his mouth, going impossibly deep to take all of his digits. You see as his tongue nastily and suggestively push through his middle and index finger, drawing them from his mouth. He lets out a groan as he tastes and swallows your juices.

“Shit, I love feeling you cum around my fingers.” He says, placing a kiss against your stomach. “I love feeling you clench around them, sucking on them like your life depends on it.” Placing more kisses up your stomach, between your breasts, up your neck and finally resting himself on top of you to look at you. Your hands find the sides of his face as he says, “I just love everything about you.”

Your breath returns to a normal as your hands rest on the sides of his face, “Oh, don’t I know it.” You kiss his lips.

“Marry me?”

He pulls away a little to stare into your eyes lovingly. “What?” You question, stunned by the sudden comment

“Will you marry me?”

Nanami’s eyes flicker between both of yours searching for an answer that your lips could not give him.

“Hmph, I’ll think about it.”

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