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fangel · 4 months ago

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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

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tsukimirecs · 10 months ago

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nekoma // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works + the synopsis for each fic belongs to the author who wrote the fic

kuroo tetsuro

taste test - kaientai

synopsis: when you taste the same thing as your soulmate, things get interesting

red all over - meldve

synopsis: you are trapped in an elevator with your work rival, kuroo. what else could go wrong?

your name - tsukisemi

synopsis: kuroo finds you really cute, too bad you keep giving him a fake name every time you come into the coffee shop he works at

public transit - orphan_account

synopsis: your heart pounded, knowing you were being touched, and he was watching you.

but when he loves me - sweetcandyliar

synopsis: there are so many ways that kuroo tells you he loves you.

somewhere only we know - wanderwithme (wanderlustt)

synopsis: four times kuroo proposes to you - and the last time he does

meeting the boys - orphan_account

synopsis: in which no one really believes kuroo could get a girlfriend as incredible as you

落葉 | rakuyou - deltachye

synopsis: maple leaves are most beautiful in which they have died, falling slowly, waiting patiently to be reborn

riverbank - itsleese

synopsis: you're reminded of the little boy you loved way back then, the riverbank you played at together. maybe you should go see it?

caring cats - haikyuu_philia

synopsis: nekoma is family

disrupted meetings - sansos

synopsis: dr. tetsurou kuroo’s research group has transitioned to hosting meetings online. what could go wrong?

cat ears - just__j

synopsis: kuroo approaches you, captain of the girls club, with a proposition of a bet for the losing captain

kozume kenma

change the channel - alkale

synopsis: "i want to buy your game from you"

kodzuken does not have a girlfriend - bunnytime

synopsis: it has been a running joke that kodzuken lies about having a girlfriend for years now. needless to say, his fanbase is convinced he doesn’t really have a girlfriend

second place - yourqueenhasarrived

synopsis: kenma forgets your anniversary and once again pushes you aside for his gaming career. how much can you take?

an inconvenient crush - the_only_iris

synopsis: kenma has had the biggest crush on twitch streamer, (y/n). what happens when their paths cross?

learning process - nomazee

synopsis: you and kenma always had an interesting dynamic. kuroo found it nice for everyone involved

thank you for being a friend! - heichoe

synopsis: ”if it helps: when you gave kuroo head in high school, he said it was great"

yaku morisuke

who dares speak aloud these words (intended for the heart to speak) - sunmoonstarsrain

synopsis: yaku bursts into her life like a hurricane, even whilst akaashi lingers on like the memory of a summer breeze

artists eyes - teapots_and_teacups

synopsis: yaku was used to being ignored on the court

if only i were selfish - this noodle writes

synopsis: yaku was anything but a selfish man, but being selfless had cost him you once before. so, when he gets the chance to see you again, will he finally be selfish enough to try?

note: as you can tell, i'm trying a different recommendations style- what do you think? do you think i should switch back to the first one or is this one better? would love to know your thoughts

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strawberry-nugget · 14 days ago

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To fill the empty spaces | 1

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x reader

Summary: Katsuki has been a single father for five years. After his wife died shorty after giving birth to their son, he's not sure he's ever going to find happiness in mundane things anymore. Cue you, the new, young teacher at his son's kindergarden, who seems to be taking the best care of his little guy.

-Or alternatively, karma is a quirkless bitch that will be biting Katsuki in the ass for his entire life, whether it's in him having a quirkless son, or falling for you, a younger woman, his son's teacher, who lost her quirk as a child before the Overhaul arc.

Tags: MDNI, Dilf!Bakugo, single dad!Bakugo, teacher!reader, slowburn, mutual pining, slice of life, fluff, eventual smut, ten year old age gap, Kirishima is a sunshine.

A/N: be kind to me i wrote this five years ago and never had the guts to post it until now :> this will be a 3 part story so let me know if you want to be tagged in the following parts

There's a strange deception about bliss and felicity in life and it is much like the analogy of the sun shining brighter after a storm, or the beautiful shades of the rainbow that cast over the sky. Happiness is supposed to be earned somehow, through hardships, or at least that's what everyone has always preached about.

How time has supposedly promised to bring you what you want, how the universe makes sure to give you what you're in need of when you need it most. You're expected to survive through the worst storm, pouring rain and eardrum grazing blowing wind and you're told it'll be worth it. So when you see trees get blown onto the ground or when you see crushing waves that are a hundred times bigger than the ones you've seen on normal days crash onto the shore and wipe everything in their wake you shouldn't react.

The sun shining, the warmth of the light grazing kindly over the mountain tops far across your vision should be worth it.

Until, it's not.

Bakugo, at least, doesn't think it's worth it and he doesn't think that you have to walk a mile before you get to rest. Mostly because he doesn't get to rest, and because walking a mile, for him, is the easiest thing in the universe. He's had too much hardship to know there's no payoff other than slamming his body into his couch after a long shift and feeling his chest tighten at the thought that he's managed to save a life.

For him, happiness is something you shouldn't chase or take for granted. 'There's such little time for us in the world' he keeps telling himself and every time he looks at the set of pictures on the tv shelf he knows his words are correct. When once he thought his happiness had found him, he'd put a ring on her and called it a day, had a fancy wedding, threw the biggest party when he topped the hero charts, cried when his son was born; he douched in bliss without knowing it was momentary and he paid the price of stomping over the steep top of the world by falling so hard that his bones could never fully heal.

It's been five years since his wife died, since he's had to take care of his son on his own and he's managed it perfectly so far. Showing up on every play in kindergarten, waking up at five am to make him the cutest bento in his class, clothes crisp and smelling of expensive soap, always present on parent counseling days, always present on days kids were supposed to bring their parents in to talk about their jobs, always one call away from rushing to anything he ever wants.

The phone always rings, without fail, every single day when Kiko's teacher leaves for retirement and a new one gets hired.

You're young, probably just landed your first job with your preschool degree and you feel like a fish out of water running a class on your own. Bakugo knows because he's seen it too many times, with the kids of his friends, has seen it happen to new sidekicks, assistants and despite not having the patience to deal with a rookie teacher who panics about everything, he appreciates the concern about his son.

So every single day, without fail, he picks up the phone (no matter if he's on patrols or doing paperwork) and begrudgingly answers your stuttered questions, “yes Kiko might not want more food but he's too shy to say it”, or “Kiko isn't allergic to the ointment your emergency box has to offer, but I packed the one his dermatologist gave him because it works best for his eczema”, or even “Yes I'm willing to talk about what Kiko keeps drawing this week.”

It's always a topic concerning overall health and attitude issues that a teacher who was called in two months before graduation and hasn't worked with the class for longer can't have knowledge on. And still, with raspy apologies, Bakugo promises to send you a few notes about your queries, because the other parents have already done so, and he's ashamed to be the last in line.

Your voice gets more stern over time, your calls become shorter, so short that all you ever need to ask is who's picking up Kiko today—even though the answer never changes; Kirishima both drops him off and picks him up- and then you hang up.

Today's call, though, catches him off guard, it makes his feet freeze on the ground, his teeth clash as his jaw tightens. You've dropped a bomb from the other side of the phone

"His friend Daichi manifested today and we thought he wouldn't," You say, voice sounding far, crazed, digital. "I think it's high time we discuss that Kiko might be… quirkless." You breathe out after a long pause and for the first time today, you sound apologetic -as you should—like you're begging to say sorry about the situation, like it's your fault his son hasn't manifested a quirk.

With his hand cupping his face, fingernails scratching at the seams of his jaw where just a slight scruff pokes out of his skin, Katsuki sighs. He glances to his right, catching Kirishima's sharp smile.. His face snaps into a serious one when Bakugo says, "I'll be there at three."

Thick fingers trample the screen of his phone pushing the end button a thousand times before he's assured he's hung up, shoving it into his pocket with a hitched groan.He looks over at Kirishima with hurt painted all over his face, feeling the mellow jabbing blooming inside his chest and in return he collects a serious gaze, one more apologetic wave burst that hits him in the stomach. Like a villain on a winter morning.

The thing is, Kirishima is a friend close enough to know when something is wrong and this is a moment where Bakugo knows he won't keep his mouth shut.

And so, the question isn't late, not even a second, it shoots out of his friend's mouth and it corners Bakugo into the nearest wall, his head spins, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Kiko's teacher huh?" Kirishima questions and Bakugo nods and then he makes his note "you look bummed man. Is it that serious or did she ask if Kiko has any allergies again"

It's not like Bakugo doesn't need a little pushover to spill what's in his head, but still, he rasps what's left of a winter cold in his throat, clears his voice before he mutters "She said" his head is in his hands "that he might be quirkless"

Kirishima mouths an oh, silent, his jaw tensing like the blond's had a while ago, but his face doesn't contort in sadness like Bakugo's does, instead, his ears perk, his brows travel up against his forehead.

"Don't worry bro, that doesn't make Kiko any less better than the rest of the kids."

That was quick and truly, Bakugo doesn't know where Kirishima finds all of this positivity. However, he supposes it's written over him like ink on a page, he's meant to see the good in any situation and put it on his plate, split his meal in half and call his glass full even when it's almost empty. Despite being in his early thirties and not being a schoolboy anymore there's always a goofy smile plastered all over his face and Bakugo thinks that maybe, maybe it helps him soothe that emerging ache inside his chest.

Or maybe Kirishima should write a book about how to always see the good out of everything and retire from his career as a pro hero to be a life coach. Because Kiko might be the son of Dynamight, but Bakugo's head is suddenly filled with images he's shoved to the back of his brain.

Kiko is the son of the number two hero, without a quirk in class full of gifted kids, he's expected of so much and there's so little he can give back because he's a child, a shy little child that Katsuki had to bring up on his own. And as Kirishima rambles about important people that are quirkless Bakugo keeps thinking about the times his son falls asleep in his arms and how guilty he feels for being a mean kid to Izuku for being quirkless, how he couldn't handle it well if anyone treated his child like that.

"His teacher is quirkless too" Kirishima says, patting Bakugo's back softly but that raises an eyebrow of the blond's. How exactly does he know that?

Not that it's his place to ask, or rather shoot this -gossipy- question at Kirishima, but there's a curious part of him when it comes to you. Apart from the fact that you sound like you're about to shit your pants every time you're on the phone with him, he's managed to land his eyes on one precious kindergarten picture of Kiko's class with you in the middle. And he can't really see much, not with a naked eye and not with his glasses, you simply have a smile on your face that matches the kids' but still you look proper enough to have landed the job at that prestigious preschool.

So when Kirishima adds a small "she's very cute and very smart" Bakugo gets a bit irked at him. He says it like he's the lead in a drama talking about the qualities of her crush even though she's being treated like shit most of the time.

There's a bursting feeling inside him that makes him shoot a question directly into Kirishima's face. "Are you flirting with my son's teacher?"

"Nope" Kirishima puckers his lips and looks away

Bakugo couldn't really care less about Kirishima's love life, he grunts, but there's this fear that overwhelms him when he thinks about his itty bitty baby son dragging Kirishima into the car while he's flirting away with anyone that stands in his way. There's this throat tightening feeling when he imagines his baby's belly grunting in hunger, a panic when he thinks his shirt is sweaty enough for him to catch a cold, or even worse he waits until he gets home to tell Kirishima that he fell and scraped his knees at school today and Kirishima probably has his thoughts taken over by his flirting when he's promised to take care of Kiko.

Sick sick sick. The thought makes him completely sick. Sick enough to consider working even less to be able to be the one to get Kiko from school every day. Fuck the hero ranks, fuck wanting to be the best.

"... for you"

Kirishima's voice is nothing compared to the worries inside his head, but as a shiny drop of sweat falls over Bakugo's forehead he's forced to ask for a repeating of his words.

"Come again?"

"Just saying man, just saying, she's uh, you'll like her"

Whatever Kirishima suggests, Bakugo knows it's a nuisance, but he promises himself he'll talk to you about his concerns on the matter. You sound like a good teacher, like you worry about Kiko a lot and Bakugo thinks that he can trust you on not allowing his kid to be treated like he treated Izuku.

Kirishima hunches Kiko over his shoulders the moment he walks out of the kindergarten doors.

You can't suppress a giggle when you see the interaction, bent on waving them off with a little back and forth shake of your hand and a smile; in the two months you've been working here, Red Riot shows up almost daily to pick up Kiko, because -as you learn- Dynamight works longer shifts a few weeks before his son's birthday so he can take a few days off.

And when March is about to roll around the corner and you're still unsure of the fact if that's possible, your coworkers that have been here before you keep reminding of you on the daily, that it's only a few days down the line that Kiko's father will be picking him up at twelve every day and then they run off to the break room to talk about how they can't wait to feast their eyes on Dynamight -because he looks so damn good in person. As always you excuse yourself, the subject of Dynamight's attractiveness being something that isn't really your concern to talk about.

Mostly, you have your views on how he's come to treat the daily heroic deeds like an office job, and although you suppose that as a single parent he doesn't have much choice you often compare the bits and pieces of today's Dynamight to the one from tens of years ago, when you watched him on TV debuting as a pro, fresh out of college. You frankly remember tricking your mother so you could zap between channels to simply watch him go, watch him beat villain after villain.

You're sure there's a routine in being a hero for over a decade, what you do and what you don't, how when you're faced with choices to set priorities you take your own paths in life. And that's probably how Dynamight gets to have a week to himself for him and Kiko -you wonder, if Kiko is happy at home with his dad, if that week helps him feel like his father is an ordinary human being, not someone that gives a piece of him to everyone- if there are evenings of quietness where the hero's phone doesn't ring with an emergency.

And would he do it for anyone else?

You've always been fascinated by heroes like him, the sheer amount of courage it takes to be your own person and have a life, live your own heaven or hell and then go about your days trying to make sure the world is safe.

You wonder if Dynamight's yearly one week absence makes any difference to the hero world, but as you look at Kiko writhing over Kirishima's shoulder you're convinced that it doesn't.

There's probably a faded Dynamight poster hung onto the wall of your childhood room that your mother's clinging onto, and there's probably a five year old child in you with bright gleamy eyes like Kiko's watching the UA sports festival, amazed by the blond.

Perhaps there's this fangirl of a child inside you when you call him that's screaming at you for having the guts to put on your big girl voice and talk to him. And sometimes you distinctly remember crying your eyes out the day he got married, so much that your middle school friends kept rubbing that on your face even until graduation.

Still your curious eyes travel back onto Kiko. He's twisting himself over Kirishima's shoulders and a part of your heart drops at how dangerous this looks from afar. But it's impossible for this mountain of a man to drop someone as small as Kiko. And the contagious giggle of the child is finally getting to you- Kiko doesn't usually laugh that much in class, nor does he ever seem as active as he is when Kirishima picks him up.

It makes you wonder, just how his interactions with his father are.

Kiko is a ball of energy at home, sometimes, Dynamight tells you.

Or rather, grunts at you.

He gets to the kindergarten on 3.17pm with a fresh split on his cheek and pouty lips. And he mutters that he is more than sorry for being late, although there's nothing to be sorry for, you tell him, because he is a hero and that's a job he can't clock out the second he wants.

"I'm working on it" He says and red eyes gleam dangerously into yours. You can't shake the feeling that he's angry. At you? At himself? At the villain that delayed him?

"It's really no big deal" You mutter, breath choked inside your chest and you gesture to him to have a seat across from you in the break room.

Your chest aches in a fast heartbeat; this is the same Dynamight that used to look back at you through a piece of shiny magazine paper in your teenage room- his eyes are deeper than carmine, with vermillion specs and copper rings adorning his irises. That's definitely something the poster in your room would never show you; the missing high quality of such fierce eyes, it's almost hard to speak when you look into them.

When you inspect his face from this close, your mind runs back to your coworkers, how they always talk about him and how beautiful he is- for a second you don't blame them, you'd love to gawk over him too, forgetting your words stare into those slant red eyes and get lost into them- but this is your big girl job. Your first serious job, and the faint expression line between Dynamight's brows signifies that your excitement has to be cut short.

He's not here to cater to you healing your inner teenager by looking at a person you were a fan of.

So you cough in your bent elbow to relieve the tension in your neck, your chest, and you arrange the notes in your hand by shaking them onto the table next to you.

"Would you like anything to drink? Water? Tea?" You offer and the hero shakes his head.

"No, I'm good"

You wonder if his wound hurts, or if he's nervous of what you're about to discuss with him- perhaps calling him to simply announce that his child is probably quirkless was a little bold of you, but calling parents to counsel or inquire them about their kids is essential in this school, or so your boss had blabbered endlessly about.

"These are a few notes about Kiko" You mutter quietly and hand him the pack of notes. It's not a pile, nor is it only two pages long. He glances at them with a sigh, tired eyes going over the paper before his fingers, thick and shaky with determination, reach out to take them from your hands, slightly brushing over yours.

And your heart is on fire. Great. Exactly what you need to fix your gaze in how small the paper looks into his hands. We're his hands always this big? Were they this big in your poster? Even if they were, you can't think of it right now, you clear your throat again and eye the notes -not his hands, the notes- and say "you'll have to go over them at home if that's not a bother, it's mostly in class progress and some behavioral issues I've noticed-"

"Behavioral issues? What behavioral issues"

It's his time to paint on panic all over his face, head twitching to your direction instinctively when the word drops from your mouth. You haven't had enough experience with panicked parents, especially being around panicked parents when you're panicked yourself, but there's a skip in your heart beat that urges you to prioritize your work over your thousand aeon old crush on Dynamight. He's nothing but a parent who's looking at you with a query like all others.

"Is there anything wrong with my son?"

You shake your head, lips crushed together, jaw tight "no no," You kindly muster up your voice "He's a quiet one, I think we should work on him being a bit more social"

"He's plenty social with my friends"

"I've noticed" You nod once, thinking about how Kiko behaves towards Kirishima versus how he behaves towards his classmates "but it's important to be able to be a bit compatible with people his age"

Dynamight nods as well, eyebrows quirked and knitted at the same time, his eyes going over the pages of notes he's flipping through. "I understand" He gulps and you read through that look almost instantly

"He's not a problem child, if anything. He's very smart, very witty. Just very shy, very quiet"

There's a stillness of air, a lack of time and space as he drags his eyes across your face once again, papers clutched in his hands, his lips pursed together so tightly there are dents all over his jaw. Unlike him, he notices there aren't scars across your face, skin delicate, looking soft, plump, young. There's a tiredness in your face that can't match his, the level of what's weighing him down is more than you could ever graze in your life and you look young.

Kirishima, stupid shitty hair that he is, infiltrates his mind just now, the inside of his lips tucking under his teeth; you do look cute. He was right. Your clothes look comfortable, baggy but appropriate for work, with colors that would look nice and calming to the kids you're in care of and he suddenly gets why Kiko is so fond of you.

You have your way of saying things. Carefully, tenderly. Like you could break him even by saying that Kiko doesn't know how to count to five. You fear you're going to break him by telling him things he already knows with a timid, shy smile across your face, a very polite voice, bowing again and again. There are no expression lines on your face, not one on your forehead, not nearly enough near your lips.

"As for his quirk. I'd say it's very unlikely that he manifests one but you should give him some more time" You watch as he nods, eyes wide as you open your mouth again, "did his mother have a quirk?"

Bakugo almost hisses, the question caught him off guard, sent his eyes to the corners of his kids and forced a huff out of his mouth. The sorry you utter isn't necessary, he knows and tells you so, but the words he wants to speak gather inside his mouth, hide under his tongue.

"I avoid talking about my late wife" He says and you bite your lip. You should have known. Dynamight's wife died in your late teens, but there wasn't much known to the public about her -maybe the fact that she was in UA with him, or maybe that she quit trying to be a pro at an early age- but her funeral was broadcasted by channels and you remember hungry media, restless reporters violating his personal space for a shot of him and his son. You remember the chaos, the mourning.

Your face drops.

Maybe life didn't go on for him as it did for you. Life wrinkled his eyes and dented his face . You think there's probably been a time he's had a very small baby in his arms, in his mid to late twenties, unsure of what to do, with not as plenty scars in his face -maybe just the one across his nose and the one over his lip- you can't help but stare and assume, perhaps a little rude at that.

But for the record, you never would have thought you would be teaching in the preschool his son attends.

"She was a psychic" Dynamight grunts through his teeth

"Incomparable quirks sometimes cancel eachother" You yelp, quietly, then speed up your words as you add "I'm quirkless too, if that's any comfort, I got shot with a quirk nullifier when I was a kid on my way back home from school"

Whatever Dynamight thinks, he doesn't respond. He looks at you with big, red eyes, face contorted in an apologetic mask, one you've seen on TV after he catches himself swearing on live interviews. You wonder if you're comforting. Any. But you hope there's a part of him that feels like his son can be included somewhere, somehow.

"M sorry" He finally mouths but it doesn't sound forced. It's more constipated when he adds "That must have been before the raid to arrest Overhaul"

"Oh we were taught about him in hero ethics class"

Bakugo curls his brow, curiously. The leap in the generation between his and yours continues to grow, and he's aware now, more than ever. There was never a hero ethics class when he was at school. "Hero ethics?"

"Yeah, and basic quirk anatomy, they're like major subjects you have to take throughout all of your university years"

"I wouldn't know," He sighs, "but I'd like your advice on how to approach Kiko on the quirk thing. How do I say something that doesn't scar him, or hurt him?"

Your breathing gets caught in your throat before you ever come up with a reply. Words are forming in your brain, years of academic knowledge flowing in your neurons as you're trying to figure out the exact answer to this question, the words of endless professors turning your brain into mush. If you could think of a way to feel, you'd feel sorry for using Dynamight as a parent with whom you're challenging your skills.

And in between year four basic quirk anatomy and child psychology for preschool teachers as an extra class you had to attend, you pick out a selection of exquisite words, woven by the wrinkles in your brain, washed over the anxiety in your gut. When you open your mouth, tongue dry and ready to clash with your palette, lips ready to make the first smack, voice almost at the brick of catching space in air, Dynamight's phone rings.

"Oh fuck" He panicks, mouthing a quick apology, bowing his head, squinting his eyes "this is an emergency, I have to take it" He says and you nod. His fingers -you notice they're thick, too thick, the back of his hands rough and chapped so much it makes you gulp- quickly reach to push the button to accept the call and he curses when the touch of his screen seems to act up.

He curses again when it stops ringing, but his hands are quick to make searching motions, waving back and forth in the open space. He's searching for a piece of paper and a pen, anything, and you-smart as ever- give him the lilac paint marker in your hands and, of course your hand. When he clicks his tongue you cringe. You feel stupid, embarrassing, like earth could swallow you whole right now and you wouldn't have a damn thing to protest about.

Still, he scribbles something on the back of your hand and the ticklish sensation of the nib across your skin kicks in instantly. When you read it you gasp, barely, and you hope he doesn't hear over the sound of his phone timing again.

"This shit won't cooperate, help me" With pleading eyes he turns the phone to you, tapping his foot erratically and you pick up the signal; you swipe up the button and he presses it to his ear immediately. You don't realize now, but the way your hands linger onto his for the second time today has made your skin crawl, itch, and it will do so for the rest of the week.

The back of your hand reads, in bright lilac, 'Beetles children playground, Saturday 5pm'

When you enter the indoor playground the smell of plastic surpasses almost any other.

There's something nostalgic about it; how these walls accommodate child after child, how the maintenance of enormous swirly slides is executed by precautions for kids to not scratch their knees, to fall on soft plastic covered mattresses when they jump out of the gigantic machine operating head of a tiger that acts as a slide.

Part of you misses that -the days where you've tried to convince your parents to take you to a place like this to play- but whatever's left of that part of you is smiling, awkwardly, lips pressed together as you spot Dynamight in the labeled 'parents resting place' cafeteria. Part of you misses not caring about how you look, your mannerisms, but still you hug your coat closer to your chest when Dynamight finally notices you, nodding his head. You bow from afar, eyes closed, lips pursed -only then you notice Red Riot sitting across from him on the small wooden table.

The sight of him -despite being a tad intimidating due to his enormous size- eases your nerves. He looks over at you, waving his hand, his grin plastered across his face. You're used to seeing him like this, nice, welcoming, talkative and enthusiastic, so your steps to their table aren't counted. You're assured -somehow in your head because Dynamight snorts too, leisurely- that there's not even a single thing to be worried about.

You study your clothes for any wrinkles a few feet away from the table, ready to curse yourself if there's anything sort of like a wrinkle in your long work skirt, but its loose wooly material has proven to be a savor once again.

Tentatively you smile at the two men when you reach their table, bowing your head and opening your mouth to greet them when Red Riot steals the words out for your mouth.

"Hey teach" He greets, hand still waving at you when you look at him, muttering a small "hello" in response.

Bakugo clears his throat when he notices the way you and Kirishima look at each other, it's not any of his business if you want to stare at each other to the end of the world anyway, but it doesn't have to happen at the parents lounge in a playground. So he's rolling his eyes to the back of his head, gripping his coffee mug tight -too right for it to be normal- in his hand and speaks up "Thank you for meeting me here"

It's so blunt that Kirishima bursts out in laughter while your eyes shoot open, confusion written on your face. Dynamight grows red, piping hot as anger plumishes his face with every choke of laughter Red Riot takes.

"Dude, don't make it sound like that" Kirishima laughs again, eyeing the chair in front of you "I think you scared her, look at her, come on teach, sit down"

"What the fuck. I didn't. Shut your face shitty hair"

"Please excuse him, his vocabulary is so colorful for a children's playground" Kirishima smiles at you when you look at them with a shook expression on your face.

Dynamight's foul language isn't a secret, in fact most of your co workers were and still are intimidated to be in a position to ever reply to any of these tantrums, and if you're honest, you are too. You strive to be professional, to look bigger than you are, more significant. And Kirishima is allowing you to believe that somewhere behind Bakugo's- Dynamight's foul language there's some respect to you, to the roof of the place you're under.

"It's okay" You shake your head and finally make a move towards your chair

You don't really look at Dynamight a lot, but you definitely notice the multicolored plaster that sits across his nose, decorated with dinosaurs of all colors. There's one on the cut on his cheek as well. It's cute, kind of, the way they contrast his eyes and his hair. You dont think youve ever seen him dressed so casually, or in any context that would allow him to rock such bandaids on his face, so it's even more peculiar to see him pull out Kikos green water bottle from his backpack the second he sees him approaching.

“Having fun?” he asks his son and the little blond nods with a huff, out of breath “you're all sweaty, we should change your shirt”

The kid objects and looks at Kirishima for what you guess would be support but he does not utter a word before he downs half of his water bottle. “Daaaad”

“Nope, don't look at Kirishima, he's not going to get you out of this. And say hi to your teacher”

Bakugo moves his head to the side and Kiko peeks with a tilted head at you, smiles and bows slightly before saying “hello miss, thank you for coming to my party” and you smile back at him and bow as well, while muttering a small happy birthday.

There aren't any kids from the kindergarten, only a few other heroes can be spotted on the other tables of the cafeteria and you're guessing it's the ones that are parents already, maybe in their circle superheroes’ kids are all friends with each other. Your train of thought is quickly interrupted by Kiko munching on a piece of toast Bakugo had given him.

“Now you swallow your bite and i-” Bakugo says as he retrieves a clean long sleeved shirt from his backpack, but is cut short before he gets the chance to finish his sentence

“Okay bye daaaad”

“Come back here! Kiko! Kiko!”

“Damn bro chill, it's just a sweaty shirt, he wants to play” Kirishima remarks with a giggle and you follow suit when Bakugo lets out a frustrated huff.

“Parenting isn't easy” you say, and sip on the juice that was served to you a while ago.

“You have kids, teach?” Kirishima asks, intrigued by Bakugos reaction to his question. You miss the way he kicks his blond friend under the table

“Oh no no, I just happen to be around so many parents at work and I've seen how challenging it can be. But I do hope to have kids someday." You reply, feeling a bit embarrassed for admitting your desires to have children to two of the top five heroes in Japan. It's not like you can always have everyday conversations with them and it's a tad uncanny that they feel so free spirited to talk about mundane things like a family with someone like you.

But the way Kirishima nods understandingly, and the way Bakugo rolls his eyes before growling “careful what you're getting yourself into brat” - not in a mocking way at least - makes you feel more comfortable.

“Oh shut up bro, you have a golden child. Never whines, never throws tantrums! You literally have nothing to complaint about”

“Well, a child turns out this well mannered only because of the way they've been brought up” you suggest and you swear there's a mischievous grin that covers Bakugos face momentarily

"Damn right!! But, It's not easy, that's for sure," Bakugo finally speaks up after a moment of silence, "but it's worth it. Seeing Kiko grow up and learn new things every day, it's amazing. He's a good kid, I couldn't imagine my life without him now that I got him" His tone is softer than you're used to hearing from him, and it catches you off guard.

Kirishima, on the other hand, is still grinning from ear to ear, looking like he's enjoying every moment of the charade between you and the blond. "I think you'd make a great mom, teach. You're so patient and kind with the kids at school."

You feel your cheeks warm up at his words, and you take a drink of your juice, hoping to hide your blush. "Thank you, Kirishima. That means a lot coming from you."

Bakugo grumbles something unintelligible under his breath, but you can tell he's not unhappy with the conversation. There's a comfortable silence that falls over the table for a few moments, until Kirishima speaks up again.

"So, teach, we were wondering if you'd like to join us for a little celebration tonight. We were planning on going out to a bar and grabbing some drinks." He winks at you, and you feel your heart skip a beat as your eyes fall all over Bakugo’s whos clenching his jaw. “Bakugo always celebrates Kiko’s birthday like this. Man… he's too happy to have him.”

"I would love to join you guys," you say, smiling, but i can't, i have a uhm-, i-"

"that's fine" Bakugo growls, don't push it shitty hair"

Kirishima smiles a wide grin that covers his face from one ear to another “oh come on! pleaseee”

You're taken aback by how childish Kirishima sounds, but being invited to something like this, with two pro heroes nonetheless feels kind of exciting. So you accept, shyly, there's not much you could do when you flicker your eyes over to Bakugo’s when they look at you like he's expecting you to say yes as well.

Kirishima's smile, despite being inviting at first, is dimmed slightly when Bakugo gruffs in response. Sure, he persists as his eyes plead with him -and you in time. “Come on, it'll be fun. I promise. Please join us teach”

Your gaze is so confused as you stare at him, hesitating to give a positive response. It's just so unbelievable that Dynamight and his best friend are trying to make plans with you.

Kirishima's wide grin falters for a moment at Bakugo's gruff response, but he quickly regained his enthusiasm, his eyes pleading with you.

"Please," Kirishima chimes in, his voice taking on an insufferable pleading tone.

You feel a pang of guilt at the disappointment in Kirishima's eyes—sure there are no prohibitions about spending time with parents outside of work, but you hesitate over actually saying yes to spending time with someone you’ve always admired as your hero.

Despite Bakugo's apparent disinterest, you find yourself unable to resist Kirishima's infectious energy. He's too sweet, always is. Maybe once won’t actually hurt.

Just one drink.

With a hesitant smile, you turn to Bakugo, hoping to convince him to change his mind. "It would be fun," you say, your voice soft but earnest. "I'd really like to join you guys. I think"

Bakugo's gaze flickers to yours, a hint of annoyance flashing in his crimson eyes that’s shot at Kirishima, because he can see your hesitation, before he sighs heavily, as if conceding defeat.

"Fine," he grumbles. "But only for a couple of drinks. We won’t be keeping you for long”

Kirishima lets out a whoop of excitement, his grin widening even further as he claps Bakugo on the back feverishly "Yes! This is gonna be awesome!"

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scorpiosbite · 6 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── INTRODUCING POUGE!READER

POUGE!READER grew up on the cut, spent basically all her time at the chateau before it burnt down because she was neighbours with john b, her parents died when she was 13, so the pouges are her only family and big john became her legal guardian, but when big john died she and the pouges all moved in together into the maybank house turned pougelandia. she has a lot of trauma and sadness that she buries deep below. unable to deal with her heavy emotions.

POUGE!READER is an earthy girl, she loves the beach and is often wearing a bikini under her long skirts and tiny tops. she has dainty tattoos littered all over her body, whether it be song lyrics down her spine or star like symbols on her sternum or flowers on her hip. more often than not she’s done them on herself and the pouges. she works at the local tattoo place on the cut.

POUGE!READER loves art, she paints pieces for the house and is always drawing in her sketchbook. she is a ride or die kinda girl, and she’s so sweet, so easy to fall in love with. but don’t ever cross her or come after her friends or family, cause then she has no problem getting her hands dirty.

POUGE!READER loves music, specifically sade, erykah badu, ms lauren hill, the paragons, led zeppelin, frank ocean and jimi hendrix, but she gets down to all kinds of music, she is constantly blasting music in her bust down car that she inherited from her mechanic dad or at home while cooking or painting. loves going on long drives with the top of the car down.

POUGE!READER loves smoking weed and occasionally drinks at parties, but she doesn’t have the best tolerance so weed and alcohol make her super giggly and horny. often leading to the pouges taking care of her.

POUGE!READER is everyone’s parents favourite pouge due to her sweet disposition. heyward often tells her that she’s too sweet to be dragged into the pouge’s bullshit, but don’t think that her sweetness is all she is, more often than not she’s the one getting her hands dirty or talking shit to the kooks.

POUGE!READER who has never had a boyfriend because she’s waiting for the right guy, many have tried their hand time and time again, pouges and kooks alike, but she doesn’t give them the time of day.

POUGE!READER is the prettiest girl on kildare, with her pretty plump lips and big almond shaped eyes, she oozes natural sex appeal but is completely unaware of the hunger she causes, especially in a specific kook. being the youngest in the group, the pouges are extremely protective of her especially the boys who see her as their little sister, but the girls know how dirty minded she really is.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ fics coming soon

about time i wrote for rafe, let me know if you wanna be added to the tag list for these fics!! and let me know what you think of pouge!reader!!

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targaryenfelikayt · 2 months ago

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headcanons: passing the night. |Boys from horror|

characters: Bo Sinclair, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Thomas Hewitt, Art the clown, Pennywise. wc: 1,630 summary: headcanons about what nights might look like beside some of horror's most terrifying icons — from cold and distant Michael Myers to unexpectedly cuddly Thomas Hewitt. tags/warnings: lots of fluff, romance (as much as possible), nighttime routine. note: how i love these routine headcanons, you should know.

Bo Sinclair.

He’s the kind of man who can fall asleep anywhere without batting an eye, so when Bo suggests you share the bed before dragging you into it — you might as well be signing a deal with the devil. A devil that’s damn handsome, charming as hell, but utterly oblivious to anyone else’s idea of comfort.

No matter how many times you try to move him — asleep or awake — Bo always ends up sprawling across the middle of the bed like a starfish.

Knowing his lover’s light sleeping habits, Sinclair is willing to allow any liberty: sleep on either side, throw your legs or arms over him, or even treat him like a human pillow and lie right on top go ahead, have fun. He won’t even stir.

But God help you or what’s left of Him after the priest left town in a pine box if you dare get up in the middle of the night. That’ll wake him up, and if he doesn’t hear a very good excuse, he’ll just haul you back under him, curl his body around you like a bear trap, and snore right in your ear.

He does not care if you’re hot, or uncomfortable, or squished. “Sorry, doll, but you’re leaving me no choice,” he’d murmur. Some might find it romantic. But when a grizzly like Bo steals your personal space, it’s mostly just... inconvenient.

Vincent Sinclair.

Catching this waxy fish from his sculptor’s pond is no small feat, he’s utterly consumed by his work, more so than most people can imagine.

He can disappear into the basement and not reemerge for three days — no food, no sleep. That’s the price of genius. And the burden... is mostly yours.

You’ve learned to tell him it's bedtime in a tone that leaves no room for discussion. You turn off the lights in the next room and wait patiently until Vincent finally puts down his tools and follows you to bed.

You might fall asleep in whatever position, but come night, the sculptor always drifts closer and clings tighter. Sometimes he holds on so firmly, it wakes you. Then, with a low, hoarse murmur asking what’s wrong, he’ll kiss whatever bare skin he can reach and stroke your hair until you calm down.

If you didn’t know him well, you might think he’d died, he breathes so silently without the mask.

Morning always starts the same: you wake first, trying to sort out what limb belongs to who is in the knot of bodies and blankets, before slipping out and leaving him to rest. Artists don’t exactly keep normal hours, let the man catch some sleep.

Lester Sinclair.

Lester took a bit from both his older brothers and made it into something uniquely his own. He can fall asleep anytime, anywhere, with anyone simply because it’s bedtime. He might toss you the truck keys and immediately move over to the passenger seat and pass out. No seatbelt, of course, he knows these roads. What for? He’s already snoring.

If you’re at home, he’s always the first one upstairs while you’re still wrapping things up downstairs.

He used to sleep with the dog before you came into his life, but he’s since adapted. If you want, Lexie will curl up at the foot of the bed. If not, she’s got cozy beds in the living room, on the porch, even the bedroom.

Be ready for snoring. This man works hard and barely rests. You can nudge him, but don’t do it too hard, he might get hurt and head to the couch. (Honestly, he prefers you over the dust mites, but he worries about whether he’s being too much.)

It’s hard to remember the last time you saw him well-rested. Oh wait, it was Thanksgiving, when he drank too much with Bo and couldn’t get up the next morning. Even disheveled, Lester looked so heartbreakingly peaceful in sleep.

Jason Voorhees.

You never really got to enjoy him fully when your need for touch crept in. Not because Jason didn’t like affection — he did. But he was never the one to initiate it.

You wanted to cuddle, to curl up beside him. But come nightfall, Jason always went off to patrol the camp, making sure no unwanted guests had wandered in. By morning, when you woke, he was already gone again doing another sweep of the grounds.

A hundred thoughts ran through your head: maybe he just wanted to keep things secure, maybe he needed control… or maybe he was afraid to let you see him without the mask.

Everything changed one summer day. You dozed off by the lake, drowsy from the sun, and when you woke, Jason was still there, unmoving, silently keeping watch.

After that, he started coming back earlier. And in the mornings, he lingered a little longer, waiting for you to wake up, understanding that in those quiet moments, you needed him just as much as he needed you.

On especially hot days, Jason would lie down beside you, acting as your own personal cooling system — machete in one hand, the other slipped under your head. Just… make sure he never mixes them up.

Michael Myers.

Michael either goes to bed in the dirty clothes he wore all day (if you're lucky, they're not bloodstained), or completely naked. There's no in-between with this man — nor does he consider any alternatives. Why bother? He's perfectly comfortable either way.

If you manage to convince him to shower before bed, it’ll only be if you join him. You can even scrub his back with a floral body wash, he doesn’t really care about scents.

Sleeps like a corpse, arms straight at his sides. He gets annoyed when you throw your legs over him, it disturbs his already fragile sleep. But he also refuses to sleep elsewhere, so you’re left finding creative compromises.

One night, seemingly out of nowhere, he brings you a pregnancy pillow, the most comfortable thing you’ve ever used.

Everyone’s content. Everyone’s happy. And on the rare nights when you’re sick or not feeling well, he taps into a hidden reservoir of affection, doling out careful, measured touches.

Thomas Hewitt.

At first, Thomas was terrified to share a bed with you. You scared him more than a loaded gun pointed at his face. He knows how to handle weapons, not delicate girls, he might have a crush in his sleep.

If there had been any books about human relationships in the house, he would’ve devoured them in a couple of nights. But the shelves only held trashy romance novels, basic crime thrillers, and not a single piece of classic literature.

He usually naps in the basement, but at night he comes upstairs to guard your sleep from the other housemates. You picked Cerberus and turned him into a house-trained puppy who melts under your care.

Some nights, the fear of his own strength fades, like when you have nightmares and he rocks you gently in his arms, stroking your hair before lying down next to you.

To help you feel safe, he even moves the bed so one side touches the wall. That way, your body is nestled between the bricks and its broad back.

And of course, he installs a bolt on the door from the inside.

Art the Clown.

It’s hard to say if he even needs to sleep, but Art is more than happy to pull out a black-and-white striped pajama set and make the bed like he’s playing house.

His bedtime routine plays out like the start of a bad joke — pulling knives, axes, a bloody costume, and a lonely shoe from under the bed. Then, seeing your horrified expression, he sheepishly shoves it all back in place.

He prefers to sleep with his head on your chest like it’s the softest pillow in the world or curled up on your stomach, perfectly content.

He suffers from what you call "bedtime hyperactivity", he can’t settle down, pokes your side to check if you're asleep, readjusts his pillow, changes position every few seconds.

Eventually, you give up and let him do whatever he wants, if he lets you sleep. At first, he finds ways to keep himself occupied… but that doesn’t last long. One night, your eyes adjust to the darkness, and you spot him standing in the doorway like a guilty child, pillow in one hand, the other gesturing desperately to let him back under the covers.

Pennywise.

This clown has a habit of falling asleep next to you in different shapes, which pretty much sums up your bizarre relationship.

No matter how many times you ask him to just stick with his human form (or at least the clown — just don’t look at him at night), Pennywise always listens… and does the exact opposite.

“Since when you have a ginger cat?”, your friend asks as she turns to leave. You glance at the stairs and spot a smug feline face watching from above. He swishes his fluffy tail dramatically as he struts past, and you’re forced to spin some tale about feeding stray animals and how this one just won’t leave.

He only falls asleep with you, the moment your breathing evens out, he vanishes into the shadows. It would be a waste not to use such a perfect opportunity to snack.

But mornings are reserved for human form, he senses the gentle warmth radiating from your sleepy self and doesn’t want to scare you… well, maybe just a little.

Expect naked strutting and elaborate breakfast trays in bed. Pennywise is still adjusting to being “one of you,” so give him free rein to try all the weird things he’s seen on TV. Maybe a few of them will even grow on you.

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peachylynnie · 3 months ago

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when you have a crush on a fictional character

word count: 200-300 per lead contains: lads men x reader, established relationship, headcanons on crack, jealousy (they have beef with a fictional character), some plushies were harmed in the making of this post, lots of manga spoilers, cursing, violence, and links to images/videos (so you know what the characters look like) a/n: i had so much fun making this. it's ironic too since THEY'RE fictional. listen, it was either this or ur kpop bias (im missing taehyung like a mf). again, bc these are headcanons, i'm not saying i'm right. reblogs and comments are always appreciated! tagged: @vvintqz (another xavier headcanon) lads masterlist

xavier

gojo satoru from jujutsu kaisen (manga spoilers below)

thought you would enjoy the series since the two of you watch a lot of anime together

but now he regrets suggesting it.

he regrets mentioning the manga too

since the damned character wears a fucking compression shirt in the manga

he swears if he hears the words "my glorious blue eyed king" leave your mouth one more time

he's going to slice your gojo plushie into a million pieces with his sword (he thinks shoving it under the bed is already too much of a mercy)

why are there so many "no lube, no protection" comments under every gojo instagram post?

why are you liking every single one of them?! (you like them bc it's funny, but he is NOT amused)

will glare at you so hard if you ask him to cosplay

would honestly rather cosplay lumiere

this man is scowling whenever gojo appears on the screen

arms crossed, lips pouted, hand reaching for the sword type shit

turned off the TV when that one breathing scene came on (i had to link it)

jumped for joy when he died though lmao

never has he ever been so happy to see a literal body cut in half

you're just sitting there mortified while he's all sunshine and rainbows

he wants to find the author and give him a big hug

xavier 🤝 gege #1 gojo haters

zayne

sakusa kiyoomi from haikyuu (manga spoilers below)

he honestly doesn't know how to react at first

a volleyball player who acts like a jerk, has less than TWO minutes of screentime, and wears NEON attire? (he respects his obsession with hygiene though)

actually questions you at one point

"is that your type?" "do you want me to be like that?" "are you into volleyball players?"

you have to explain it's not like that at all, you just think he's cool

that assures him a bit

but when you start reading the manga

his worries return ten-fold

not only because the character appears more

but because the character doesn't wear neon anymore and has compression sleeves (that's HIS thing)

frowns when he looms over your shoulder

and sees you screenshot EVERY PANEL he appears in (is this a thing or am i the only one)

gets so confused as to why you're referring to the character as omi whenever you call your friend who's an atsumu girlie (i'm an osamu girlie)

he's half grateful the msby black jackals (he begrudgingly learned the team name from you) haven't been animated yet

his face is priceless when he walks into the shared bedroom

and sees a sakusa plushie there

wants to freeze it with his evol

instead he just awkwardly picks it up and makes it face the wall (he doesn't want to see you upset)

rafayel

brant from wuthering waves

"YOU LIKE A PIRATE WHEN THERE'S A WHOLE MERMAN RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU?!"

he's so sulky and petty about it

bashes the character whenever he has the chance

"he's a pirate, i bet he smells bad."

"ew, why does he talk like that?"

"he can summon a giant anchor? big deal. i can summon an entire ocean."

you find this situation really funny

since the whole reason you like brant in the first place is BECAUSE he reminds you of rafayel

it's the theatrical mannerisms and flashy outfits (the sea too)

but you don't tell him that (he'll probably act more offended anyway)

whenever he catches you playing the game

he sighs dramatically and falls on the couch

head on your lap and trying to distract you from the game

"replaced by a stinky pirate, how could this be?"

"can't believe you're playing a game when there's a hot, rideable fishie right in front of you"

he's flabbergasted when you reach for your wallet

"wait, IT'S A GACHA GAME?!"

cue him running around with your wallet and you chasing after him

"no way, cutie. last time you spent like fifty dollars on identity v for some skin."

when you try to correct him that it was for a danganronpa collab (and that it was less than fifty dollars)

he snatches your phone

now he's running with both your wallet and your phone in hand

sylus

yomi from gokurakugai (manga spoilers below)

listen

you started the manga because the character LOOKS LIKE him (just hair down)

he has silver hair, red eyes, and composed mannerisms

literally when you see the panel of him appearing with a jacket hanging from his shoulders along with some slacks shoes

you have to sigh because

you are NOT beating the allegations

the "i have a type" allegations

sylus is honestly amused

see he would actually READ the manga

not even online

he would buy physical copies of it

and have it in your bookshelf

since he knows how much you HATE the pop-up ads on the website you use to read

also because he wants to see what you're so excited about

so imagine your face when you walk into your shared bedroom

and see your boyfriend in all of his gorgeous glory

wearing his signature bathrobe

a wine glass in one hand and...

THE MANGA IN ANOTHER?!

THE ONE WHERE YOMI IS ON THE COVER TOO?!

he chuckles at your dumbfounded expression before standing up and walking towards you (the manga's still in his hand btw)

"what's wrong, sweetie? i thought you liked this series, given how much you've searched for this character on pinterest."

you gulp when he pins his hand on the wall

"would you like me to wear my hair down?"

caleb

chrollo lucilfer from hunter x hunter (manga spoilers below)

see the other guys are...relatively grateful these characters are fictional

this guy actually WISHES this bastard of a character was real

why?

so he can plummet him into the ground

because why are you squealing every time this pale, grown ass man with a tattoo on his forehead and an open fur coat appears on the screen???

here's the thing

caleb was excited to start this show with you since he heard it's good

and it is!

he loves the nen system, has a soft spot for killua, and would honestly kill for gon

but now, whenever you suggest watching the show, he's grumbling and insisting you guys watch something else

he would rather die than tell you this

but one time

he slicked his hair back in front of the mirror to see if he looks like him (oh the aura loss)

he also read the manga

but only to see how often chrollo appears so he can be prepared

was excited for the hisoka vs. chrollo fight (since he's hoping the latter dies)

actually enjoyed it too since both characters used their abilities so creatively

threw his phone when hisoka lost

and punched your chrollo plushie with his metal arm

you made him buy you another one

a/n: not me exposing all of my fictional crushes. here are some other characters i considered: seba natsuki, kei uzuki (sakamoto days), levi ackerman (aot), phainon (hsr), yoru (gokurakugai), beom tae ha (tears on a withered flower), theo lapileon (my in laws are obsessed with me), shinso hitoshi, dabi (bnha), choso kamo (jjk) (my beloved), and reigen arataka (mp 100) (solely for shits and giggles).

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bruhstories · 5 months ago

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Bet III

p.1 here & p2. here & p.4 here & p.5 here & p.6 here

summary: the game is on, but in-ho can't focus on it. he's got you on his mind pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan, slight voyeurism, people dying ayy yo (but if you watched squid game, this is just normal) w/c: 2.2k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! also feel free to replace y/n's age, i just needed to put a number there lol

In-ho removed the intricately designed mask from his face and poured himself a glass of whisky, one leg crossed over the other as he sat on the leather sofa of the control room. The first game was about to begin soon — always Red Light, Green Light — and he waited for his favourite song to start — always Fly Me To The Moon. There was something so hauntingly beautiful about listening to a love song while people lost all hope, one by one falling to the ground.

It was a fantastic way to get rid of the weakest links, leaving only those resilient alive. Player 101, eliminated. Player 82, eliminated. Player 329, eliminated. Player 2, eliminated. They dropped like flies, frantically clawing at the gates in a futile attempt to escape while the soldiers shot them from above, painting the ground crimson.

Exhilarating was the only word that could describe what In-ho felt in that moment, and nothing compared to it. When happiness died along with his wife, control was the only thing that fulfilled him. He controlled who died and who lived, but he was also being fair — if participants played by the rules, they survived. It couldn’t get any simpler than that.

Obviously, they didn't have a choice, and In-ho knew that well enough. No, players only had the illusion of choice, but that mirage was what kept them in the game. Besides, they chose to come to the island. They chose to gamble their lives. They chose to be greedy. If anything, the games taught them, albeit for a short time, that actions had consequences, and In-ho was their judge, jury and executioner. It was truly thrilling. Exciting. Exhilarating.

His phone lit up with a notification from the security cameras concealed in his house. Irked by the sudden disturbance, he opened the app to check the footage. You weren't supposed to be there at that time, because you had already been at his house in the morning. In-ho watched you lock the door behind you, thinking today was the day you stole from him and proved him right. He scoffed, hoping you would last longer than one day, but to his surprise, you sat on the kitchen floor, knees to your chest, crying.

He couldn't send you a text — it would have made it obvious that he knew you were there, and his eyes lingered on his phone, forgetting about the game in front of him for a moment. In-ho watched you take out your phone and type, and not a minute later he received a text.

Good morning again! I had a bit of free time after my second job today and came to check on Eunjoo. I'll be leaving in an hour for my other job and I'm not charging for the extra visit.

In-ho stared at the big screen, completely dumbfounded and ignorant to the people dying right before his eyes. How were you working that many jobs? That was, if you were even telling the truth. But he would find out soon, because he left a stack of 2 million won on his nightstand, eagerly waiting for you to take it. You had to take it. You had to be the same as everyone else.

That's absolutely fine. If you don't mind me asking, how many jobs are you working?

He swapped back to the security cameras and watched you wipe the tears off your face with the back of your hand, smiling at his text. Did he say something funny? Why on Earth would you be smiling when a minute ago you had tears rolling down your cheeks?

Officially two, unofficially three. I teach Korean to a family of immigrants, but that's unpaid. I think of it as volunteering. They do feed me, though! My other job is a mascot at Lotte World.

In-ho shattered the empty glass in his hand while reading your text, and winced when he felt blood seeping from a fresh cut. Why, just why did you have to prove him wrong? He watched you go into his bedroom with a pile of freshly clean and dried shirts, ignoring the money. You saw the stack, he noticed you staring at it, hoping you grabbed it, but you found his ironing board and began to iron his shirts, not sparing the money another glance.

Why?

Through the camera, he saw you text back.

Why what?

"Tsk." In-ho scoffed at your question while wrapping a bandage around his palm.

Why are you working that many jobs?

Ah. My uncle has debts. Unfortunately, I had to drop out from uni to help him pay for them. It's fine though, I like what I'm doing.

How old are you?

23.

Jesus Christ, you were so young, yet life had been unfair to you. You deserved an education, a better life, and it cemented his ideal that the world needed to rid itself of the trash. He didn't know the full details, but he was sure to find out. You were unlike anyone he's met before. At least for now, at least until you proved him right.

Ding!

In-ho opened a picture from you — Eunjoo curling up on the left side of his bed, paws under her, looking like a loaf of bread, and the question 'Is that your side of the bed?' under it.

Indeed it is.

I knew it! Aww, she misses you :(

How strange it was to read those words. How strange it was to think about someone, or something missing him. To In-ho that was a foreign feeling, and he loosened his tie, swallowing the lump in his throat. He'd seen Eunjoo sleep on his side of the bed before, when he was gone, but he assumed it was just comfortable for her.

Animals truly were better than humans. If they betrayed their owners, they did it out of necessity. When humans betrayed, it was by choice.

In-ho watched you neatly adjust his ironed shirt on a coat hanger that you hung in his wardrobe, disregarding the Red Light, Green Light game that had long finished, and it hit him like a train that you reminded him of his wife. God, you were so much like his wife it infuriated him, because no one was allowed to take that place in his heart. No one was allowed to make him feel anything other than hatred.

You had to make a mistake, to prove to him that you were just like everybody else, and if money didn't make you crack, something else would. In-ho made it his purpose to unravel your darkest secrets, whether through manipulation or sheer force, but the distance between the two of you proved a greater obstacle than he thought.

He watched you finish ironing his clothes, watched you refill Eunjoo's water bowl, watched you comb your hair and put lip balm on while staring into his mirror, and it felt so wrong to study all your quirks and habits without you even knowing. It was the closest thing to having a normal life. But nothing about what he was doing was normal. Especially not watching you be so oblivious to his true self.

With a sigh, In-ho adjusted his mask left the control room to instruct his subordinates, the square-masked guards, to prepare for the next game, Neolttwigi, the soldiers to take the remaining players back to their beds, and the workers to remove the corpses. 188 players survived and more than 50% were eliminated. In-ho, in his Front Man persona, should've focused on the games, but he couldn't, for some unknown reason, shake off the image of you crying on his kitchen floor. He didn’t dare ask what happened. How could he? It would destroy all the secrecy.

It wasn't that he cared about you — he didn't. You appeared to be a positive, cheerful and talkative person, so whatever hurt your feelings must have been important. Was it your uncle? Your boyfriend? He scoffed at that thought. The mere idea of some guy breaking your heart made him irrationally angry, and In-ho was lucky that his mask concealed his frustration.

He decided to pay the remaining players a visit, accompanied by eight armed guards, and, just like last year, and the year before, and the year before that, there was always a woman who dropped to her knees, begging to be spared and allowed to go home. Another one followed, and even men asked for forgiveness, but they just couldn't get it through their thick skulls that they chose to be there. They chose to gamble their lives away, they chose to borrow money and end up with debts they could never afford to repay. No one forced them to play the games.

When the room was filled with echoing cries and hysterical sobs, In-ho fired a single shot in the air, shutting everyone up. They all looked at him with fear in their eyes like pigs in a slaughterhouse waiting to be gutted, and he lowered the gun, standing firm on his feet.

"You must be mistaken. You are not here to be punished, you are all here because of the choices you made." In-ho simply said, his voice distorted by the mask.

He took notice of teams already being formed, of those who were willing to step on corpses just to get the big prize and those who would rather sacrifice themselves, because there were always people who wanted to play the hero. He studied them all before they got recruited, and knew 456 secrets, 456 names, 456 lives. Well, only 188 survived.

"We came here to win money, not to fucking die!" Player 072 shouted from the back of the room. "And if I'm correct, we can vote to go back home."

Ah, yet another one who thought they could outsmart In-ho. He's been there before. He walked that path before, and it taught him that people don't change. Ever. Even if they voted to leave, they always came back.

"Of course, clause three of the consent form. If the majority decides to go home, you are free to do so. We don't hold anyone against their will." In-ho nodded. "But before you make your choice, allow me to tell you the current accumulated prize."

He pressed a button on a small, black remote and a large glass piggy bank was lowered from the ceiling as the lights in the room dimmed down. Stacks upon stacks of money piled up in the piggy bank, and the screen counted the current prize — 26.8 billion won. In-ho watched how their faces lit up at the amount of money accumulated, but also how the penny dropped for most of them — the more people died, the more money the survivors got.

"If you choose to leave, the money will be distributed amongst the deceased players' families. It’s only fair." He said, and left the room so that the soldiers could prepare for the democratic vote.

"You're manipulating us!" In-ho heard a player shout, and maybe he did. Maybe he was chipping away at their humanity to bring out the worst in them, but it was for the best. At least by dying they served a purpose.

It was no surprise that the majority voted to stay, 95 to 93. Good — he didn't have to go through the trouble of sending them home. The soldiers and workers brought food for the players, and In-ho checked his phone in the safety of his room. There was no text from you, and it was almost time for you to check on Eunjoo, but when it hit 9 and you weren't in his house, he felt a knot in his stomach, an uneasy feeling. Was he worried? Of course he was, for his cat, not for you.

Ding!

The sound of his phone caught him off guard, almost startling him, almost making him feel relieved when he saw it was you, and In-ho read the text.

Evening! Traffic was baaad this evening but I'm nearly at the penthouse. Will Eunjoo ever forgive me? :(

The stupid sad face you sent made the image of you pouting pop up in his head and he wondered why. There wasn't a good enough reason for you to be haunting him like a phantom. You were a nobody to him.

Eunjoo might, but I won't.

In-ho immediately regretted pressing send. It was unprofessional and stupid of him to text such a reply, because you weren't friends. He had no friends.

I'm so sorry, but I promise I'll make it up to you, Mr. Hwang! I really need to get you a gift for letting me use your shower anyway.

A relieved sigh escaped his lips when you didn't take his message the wrong way, but part of him was hoping you would try to flirt with him, seduce him, do anything to prove him right. And yet again, you remained true to yourself.

He watched you on the cameras again, how you invaded his home, his life, how you fed Eunjoo and munched on prawn crackers again, disappointed that you, for the second day in a row, refused to use anything in his house for yourself except for the shower and the TV.

There was still time to win the bet, and he never lost.

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @hobiesbrownsgf @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm

please keep in mind that if i didn't tag you it's because i either missed it, or i couldn't find your age on your blog. there will be smut.

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smutoperator · 1 year ago

Text

Hard

Kim Chaewon, Kim Minju x Male Reader

Tags: choking, cum licking, dom/sub, (lots of) facefucking, female masturbation, fucktoy, P2M, rope play, rough sex, sexual freak, smoking, spanking, threesome, voyeurism, whipping

Word count: 6169.

If you are one of the believers in someone radically changing, look no further than Kim Chaewon. Since joining Le Sserafim, she has undergone a radical change, shedding her previously cute image in favor of a fierce, fallen angel one. With that image rebranding, not only did Chaewon get bolder in front of regular audiences, but she has also turned into a sexual freak behind four walls, as you could witness the first time you met her after joining Le Sserafim.

Chaewon's depravity now knew no limits, as she added more and more kinks to her arsenal. Her personal favorite was having any kind of sex with a rope dangerously wrapped around her neck, which she decided to show you with a little solo show in the dark bedroom, where you two were now together, as she placed her left hand under the panties of her sexy lingerie and started fingering herself for you to watch.

"Ahhhhh. Ahhhhh. Ahhhhh," her moans as she fingered her pussy were music to your ears. The way she moved her mouth while searching for air and overstimulating herself was so sexy. Her eyes rolled, but she never lost control of the rope at any time, even if her body now contorted into multiple orgasms. Chaewon just closed her eyes and enjoyed the ride to paradise. Or maybe, in her dirty thoughts, straight to hell. She twisted and turned as if she were being electrocuted, but her hand never left her clit for even a second.

When Chaewon entered the final stage of her earth-shattering orgasm, her head started falling out of the bed, leading to the illusion that the rope had hanged her. As Chaewon's hand finally detached from her pussy, her body lied on the bed for a few seconds as if she were dead. You sure thought she was, getting up from the chair while you were watching her performance to check her pulse. There was a reason Chaewon only tried this move in someone else's company, after all.

At the same time you went in Chaewon's direction, the door started to bang. Her pulse looked fine as you checked it, but she remained unmoved ever since finishing her orgasm. It was an act all along. As Chaewon heard the banging door, she was suddenly brought back to life and detached the rope from her neck, flipping her body around to face you while picking up a cigarette to smoke. "Are you gonna let my guests in or not?" she asked.

In many ways, Kim Minju is the polar opposite of Chaewon. She hasn't undergone any rebranding since her days in Iz*one were over, still relying on her beauty and her cute, girlfriend-esque image to define her public persona and always playing it safe. Her recent vacation in Hawaii with Eunbi was a good example: while her older groupmate was taking bold photos in bikinis and showing herself swimming, Minju was fully clothed every single time she showcased herself while on vacation.

Despite those differences, Chaewon and Minju were still as close as ever. The radical change in her former groupmate didn't alienate Minju; it rather made her curious. So much so that she accepted Chaewon's invitation to be her guest in an experience she had never been part of before.

Chaewon greeted Minju already in lingerie while smoking yet another cigarette as she looked at Minju's beautiful face and her manager along with her, just as Chaewon had requested. "Make yourself at home," she said. Minju was modest as always, wearing a black dress while her manager was still wearing work attire. Minju at first didn't know how to react, looking at her manager for a green light. "Go on, follow me," Chaewon said, encouraging her former groupmate.

Minju walked and sat on the bed. Chaewon had just "died" a couple minutes ago. The sun was starting to shine on this cold February day, making Chaewon's lingerie glow as it hit the dorm's curtains. Her manager followed and was going to sit as well until Chaewon interrupted him.

"Just her," she commanded. Reluctantly, Minju's manager moved closer to the chair where you were still sitting as Chaewon walked the room and stared at Minju, always in awe over her ethereal beauty, before she started asking her questions.

"Do you like to be dominated?" Chaewon asked. "Yes." Minju gave her a timid answer as Chaewon continued to interrogate her. "What's your safe word?" she then asked. "Fox," Minju said. "That sounds too similar to fuck; you need to change it," Chaewon instructed her. "Pepe," she said. "And how do you want to be dominated today?" Chaewon continued as she kept slowly walking. "I like to be spanked," Minju replied, sensing the perfect opportunity. Her porcelain skin was still a little red from the vacation in Hawaii, so she felt like it would be an extra challenge.

"Great," Chaewon approved her choice, sitting along with Minju and looking at her right in the eye before grabbing Minju by the Chin with her right hand as they looked at each other face-to-face. She gave Minju a soft slap that made her close her eyes, then took a look at her pouty lips, ruining Minju's lipstick as she ran her hand over it.

"Ready to join us?" Chaewon asked you as she smoked a little more. You stood up and headed towards both, followed by Minju's manager, before Chaewon stepped ahead. "Not you, just him," she said to the manager, who now took your place in the chair. You put your finger on Minju's mouth, looking to make her your submissive toy from the start. Chaewon caressed Minju's hair, trying to make her feel at home. Minju looked frightened as you towered over her, making your presence very intimidating.

You pushed Minju's body onto your lap, fully exposing her bare legs for Chaewon to see as her dress got lifted. Her skin was already ultra-red around her ass, indicating that she indeed wore a bikini in Hawaii but just never showed it. The outer lips of Minju's tasty pussy were already popping out. Her manager looked in disbelief as she watched a bent-over Minju look extremely submissive.

"Tell him when to hit," Chaewon tells Minju, whose eyes look regretful now. "Hit," Minju says as you follow her command with a hard spank that makes her roll her eyes in pain. Minju asks again, and you strike her just as hard, this time on the right cheek instead of the left. Minju takes a while to repeat the command, giving you some time to run your right hand over her ass. Once you hit her, she lets out the first moan from her mouth. As Minju feels more prepared, you continue to strike, and she continues to moan. You grab her arm as she lets out a smile at the next spank, your hand already making a full imprint on her red ass.

Minju decreases the interval between strikes, telling you to hit more times. Her butt looks extremely swollen, and you have barely started. You lift her dress a little, allowing Chaewon to see Minju's rarely-shown belly button. Minju now feels very satisfied at every hit; she wasn't lying when she said she liked to be spanked after all. Chaewon stands up as she gives Minju a little strike before turning away to search for her ashtray to put another fully smoked cigarette. She goes back to give Minju a couple hits as the pretty girl recognizes Chaewon's softer hands in her ass. Chaewon then takes the initiative and becomes the lead striker, before pushing Minju away from your lap and moving towards the next act.

Chaewon gives Minju a kiss as both of you run your hands all over her dress. The fully clothed torso of Minju contrasts with the barely clothed one of Chaewon. But you're about to level them as you start slowly taking Minju's dress off and groping her little tits as she is braless, while Chaewon wraps her strong hands around Minju's face to kiss her. Chaewon also pokes Minju's boobs before she pushes her closer to you to kiss Minju. The bikini marks on Minju's chest are fairly visible, as her pale skin around her boobs contrasts with the redder one on her beautiful collarbones and chest.

You grab Minju by her neck with your veiny hands, putting her knees on the floor. Chaewon unhooks your belt and wraps it around Minju's neck, never missing a chance to show what her favorite kink is. Chaewon tightens the belt but keeps it just loose enough to not suffocate Minju, using it like a dog collar. You unzip your pants and point your erection towards Minju's princess's face. Your uncut cock already looks very intimidating, even though only the tip is out of the foreskin.

Chaewon leads your boner to Minju's mouth, and she licks her chops as soon as her unnie does it. Chaewon knows Minju is no saint and that her cute image is just a facade that falls as soon as she senses the smell of a dirty cock. You push your erection a little up, and Minju immediately follows, reacting like she's a robot programmed to please a man's meat. Chaewon giggles as you shove your cock in Minju's mouth and grab her by the back of the head.

"How tight is her mouth, baby?" Chaewon asks as Minju closes her eyes and throats your manhood. Just a few slow but deep thrusts in her throat are enough for her to gag, but the cock that emerges out of her mouth now's got a throbbing tip that can no longer be contained under your foreskin. "Deeper," Chaewon says as you now fuck Minju's pretty face, who looks overwhelmed, especially her cheeks, which seem as if they are about to burst every time your cock hits them. Chaewon takes your cock in her mouth to show Minju how it's done, bobbing her head before getting face-fucked and emerging with a smile as soon as she gags.

Minju can only watch in awe of how hard you fuck Chaewon's face, like she's just a gloryhole. And Chaewon loves every second of it, grabbing your butt as she pushes her mouth closer to your crotch. Chaewon then grabs Minju's head and provides the support you need to freely fuck the beauty's face. A large pop comes out of Minju's lips once you're done. "Give me your face," you demand of her as you slap your cock on Minju's beautiful, porcelain skin, giving special attention to her red cheeks.

"Lick my balls," you ask Minju, who descends down your crotch while you now fuck Chaewon's mouth. Minju's lips bring a lot of friction to your sack as Chaewon slurps all over your prick. "Spit on her face," you ask Chaewon right after finishing the sloppy facefuck, as she shares her saliva with Minju. You grip Minju by your belt and give her the roughest throatfuck yet. You further humiliate Minju, sitting on her cute face as you ask her to rim your dirty butthole while you pound Chaewon's insatiable throat, and then keep switching between their tight facial entrances to warm your cock up.

"Ass up," you ask Minju, who follows and buries her face on Chaewon's thighs, who giggles as you start turning her rope into a whip, rotating it to spank Minju's already red butt. Chaewon laughs like a psychopat, enjoying Minju's suffering as she adds to it, slapping both hands on Minju's ass. "You told me you liked to be spanked," she recalls.

Once you're done whipping her, you take out Minju's little thong, the final piece of fabric still on her body. With her now fully naked, you don't hide your intentions. "She's got such a great ass. I wanna fuck her," you say, soon turning your words into action as you plow into Minju's tight slit. Chaewon removes the support from her lap, letting Minju fend for herself as you pound her at a 90-degree angle, while Chaewon whispers words in Minju's ear.

"Little whore likes that big cock, doesn't she?" Chaewon asks Minju, who doesn't answer because she's too busy with a raging bull impaling her. "Fuck that pussy," Chaewon commands to you just as you pause to lube your dick with Chaewon's mouth. After some extra poundings, you take Minju out of her submissive cocksleeve position just to spit on her pretty face before choking her with your belt.

"Come on, get on the bed," you and Chaewon ask Minju as both of you continue to play the dominant couple. Chaewon helps lift Minju's legs over her head and position her on a mating press in the bed. You put your cock back on Minju's perfect pussy, giving her slow thrusts that reach all the way deep inside her and make your cock bulge on Minju's belly. Then you increase the pace while both you and Chaewon choke Minju. You use your hands while she uses her always-at-hand rope.

Minju rests on Chaewon's breasts as you go back to intensely fucking her. "Do you like that?" you ask Minju. "Yes, I like that," she answers back. "Then let me do this," you say as you stick a pair of fingers on Minju's clit, wanting for her to squirt. "She saw me squirting a river one day and now wants every girl to do that," Chaewon says. Little showers come out of Minju's vagina, which are a sign for you to go back in.

You now slap Minju's face as her moans turn into a fox-esque squeal. "Look at this big cock inside you," you tell Minju, enjoying that bulge under her belly. Chaewon wants a piece of it as she laughs at your face. "Go harder," she says, which leads you to violently choke her. "Who are you to give me orders?" you say. "The other dominant half," she replies.

"AHHHHHH. AHHHHH," Minju screams as you once again penetrate her with your fingers, this time managing to be much more successful in making her squirt. "That pussy is so wet," Chaewon says as Minju starts to lose her breath, especially as you grab her neck much harder now. Minju's belly muscles start to contract, and you place your hands in her clit, stimulating her while you stretch her pussy out. As soon as you stop a little to eat Minju out, her body starts having spasms as your tongue searches for her best spots to cum.

You aren't done yet as you destroy Minju balls deep like she's your personal fleshlight. Chaewon rests her body on top of Minju's, ready to taste that wet pussy from your cock as soon as you please. Of course you had to give it to her in the only way it could please Chaewon's insatiable sexual appetite: by fucking her face. Minju now tries to silence her increasingly out-of-breath moans by placing Chaewon's fabric in her mouth, but it's useless. Her pussy is so stretched out that anything can send her over the moon now.

You continue to take turns between Minju's vagina and Chaewon's face until you grab Chaewon and look at her devilish smile following a facefuck. "You're the best; come here and get some more." You reward Chaewon for her insane appetite as your meat continues to pound her throat. You then switch back to Minju, using your right hand to shut her fucking mouth up while you rub Chaewon's body, trying as much as possible not to cum earlier and not break the promise that Chaewon made to Minju's member that they wouldn't cum inside her. Instead, they would make her insides cum.

"NOOOOOO!" Minju screamed as you now put your full hand in her pussy to make it squirt. Minju nearly had thoughts of saying her safe word and making you stop, but they passed as the heat your hands put in her pussy settled down. But you were a gentleman and rewarded Minju's cumming with a kiss, plus a taste of it as your right hand now fisted her mouth. "Lick it. Tell me how it tastes," you asked her. "So good," Minju replied.

You have now set your sights on Chaewon. "Come here, turn around, please," you tell her as you pull Chaewon's panties down. She closes her legs and puts her ass up, giving you a perfect view of her puffy slit, giggling as you sniff and blow air into her pair of fuckholes. "Look at this slut, always laughing," you say as Chaewon gets louder. "Give me, give me your cock," she demands with a smile on her face.

You answer her immediately, penetrating Chaewon as your hands firmly grab her ass. "Please, please, give it to me," she continues to beg as you pump her cunt faster. Minju appears back on the frame to serve you as the submissive fucktoy, resting her head on Chaewon's left buttcheek. You then take turns performing a hole-switching between Chaewon's pussy and Minju's mouth, taking one deep thrust at each every time. You fuck Minju's face to get your cock wetter for Chaewon, earning her approval. "That's how a good boy does it," she says.

"Give it to me, fuck my pussy," she keeps repeating as you now grab her neck and push her face closer to you for some kisses. Chaewon talks louder than she moans; so far, your fast pumpings have just been easy peasy lemon squeezy to her, especially compared to Minju. "You mean like that?" you say as you hammer her harder. "YES!" Chaewon finally elevates her tone, sticking her tongue out to show how pleased she is as you finally take her bra off.

Chaewon rests her head on the bed as you increase the pumping, grabbing her by the suspender belt—the only part of her lingerie, besides her stockings, which she never takes off, that's still on. "Come on, harder," she says as you use Minju's mouth to help you again, and she coughs on your big cock. Seeing Chaewon is hard to please with just a cock in her pussy, you resort towards your main dom trick and start stomping on her head, but even your big foot smashing her face does little to deter Chaewon's insatiableness.

Minju can only watch as you now fuck Chaewon like an animal. "Come on, stomp on my face. So you wanna be the boss? Show me you got it. Fuck that pussy hard," she invites the challenge as you ragdoll her. That big cock hitting her cervix many times a second finally makes Chaewon moan. "Deeper, harder; give me all of it; come on," she says. You have a lot of stamina, but Chaewon is such a physical freak that even a guy like you gets fully drained by her unmatched intensity. Chaewon smiles and moans with her tongue out as you replace your foot with your hand on her face to get a deeper penetration of her pussy.

Chaewon is now bent at a straight angle, and so is your cock while penetrating her; that combination finally allows her to get what she wants. But you would rather not get drained just with her and leave nothing for Minju, as the moment you see the young beauty following her unnie's footsteps and putting her ass up, you switch to fucking her instead.

It's much harder for Minju, as just a pair of pumps has her screaming. Chaewon barks in pleasure, watching her fucktoy get impaled once again and having it hard with something that was just regular play to her. You still pay attention to Chaewon's perfect butt, spanking it and fingering her easily accessible cunt while breaking Minju apart.

"AHHHHHH~" Minju screams as you stick your cock balls deep in her pussy, staying with them fully inside her for a long time. That makes her legs weak, meaning she can't put her ass up anymore, getting her body pressed against the bed in a prone-bone position. As you take your fingers off Chaewon's fuckholes, you spank her butt and give her a kiss. "So do you like watching your little toy get fucked like that?" you ask her after the kiss. "Hell yes," Chaewon responds.

You push Minju to the edge of the bed and put her on her knees to pound her doggystyle. Chaewon moves toward the place in the dorm's bed that Minju once was, giving you a perfect view of her sexy tits as she starts masturbating herself to you fucking Minju. "Oh my God," Minju says as you muffle her mouth and stretch her out fast and hard, to the point she can barely hold onto the bed as Chaewon stares at her and just enjoys the show.

Chaewon spreads her legs as you push Minju's face towards her unnie's craving cunt. "Good girl," she says as Minju's tongue hits her clit. You make sure that Minju's beautiful face stays buried there as you choke her while she tries to dive under Chaewon's folds. Minju's tight pussy, breedable hips, and the speed you fuck her get you close to release, which earns Chaewon's disapproval. "Do not cum yet," she says.

You have to pull out of Minju's pussy to hold yourself as you look drained and struggle to breathe, pleasing her pussy shortly after to repay her for such a good fucking. You three engage in an oral train as Minju is still eating Chaewon's slit, now moaning every time you tongue it deep into her own's. Chaewon giggles as you eat Minju out, making her increase the speed at Chaewon's pussy, clinging to it as her last way of surviving your tongue hitting her folds. Chaewon loves it, moaning more than she ever did when you were the one fucking her.

You go back to Minju's pussy, sensing that the more she clings to eating Chaewon's cunt as a coping mechanism, the better she gets. But Chaewon loves to test her and detaches her pussy away from Minju's grasp, leaving her all by herself to take the rough pounding you now give her, only going back to grab Minju's hair and get a privileged view of her face stuggling as you destroy her pussy. You finish Minju with a deep fingering that finally, after resisting your first two attempts, makes her squirt a river into the bedsheets.

With Minju still recovering from her orgasm, you keep the heat in her wet pussy and eat her out. You tied your belt around her thighs to keep them close as you put your cock back in her tight pussy, while Chaewon lifted Minju's cute face straight into her tits for her to suck it. Soon, you two were teaming up on her, with Chaewon grabbing Minju's neck while you pinched her nipples. Minju grinded her teeth, overwhelmed by the way you two attacked her. Minju grabbed her ass and then yelled. "PLEASE DON'T STOP.".

Chaewon grossed her legs on top of Minju's face, smothering it with her thighs as the younger girl dove back into her pussy, with a little helping hand shoving her, before going face to face with her and asking, "Are you enjoying being our little fucktoy, Ming?". "Yes." Minju nodded while struggling with the heat you were still putting in her little pussy. Chaewon ran her fingers on Minju's chin as she wanted to watch the pretty girl moan up close before letting Minju suck her thumb as she kept moaning.

"You want him to take you deeper?" Chaewon asked. Minju just nodded this time. "Tell him," Chaewon kept pressuring. "Please, fuck me deeper," Minju says, already very out of breath. "Come here," you promptly answer her, pushing Minju out of bed, taking off your belt from her thighs, and getting her to stand. Your cock now hits her deep in the cervix while you finger her pussy with both hands, and Chaewon just watches and takes the bed all by herself.

Minju gets clapped hard as your balls make a loud noise every time you thurst into her pussy. Even her little tits now bounce like pinballs. "AHHHHH," she says, feeling the heat and placing her right hand at yours, implying you should go easier. But without saying, you two can't understand, as Chaewon now grabs her neck. The bikini marks from her vacation glow as the sun hits the curtains more intensely.

"Show your manager how much of a fucktoy you are," you say as you turn Minju's body around and let her face her manager and manhandle her in front of him. He has to keep his composure, but the truth is, he's nearly creaming his pants. Chaewon giggles as she watches poor Minju get destroyed like a defenseless damsel. You three now get close as Chaewon stands up and grabs Minju while you keep pounding her, as both your left hand and Minju's now rest on her pussy.

Minju continues to get mauled in front of her manager as Chaewon enjoys every second of it. "You like to watch her get fucked, don't you?" she says as the manager remains silent. "ANSWER IT," Chaewon demands of the manager, who can only say "yeah" as Minju now clings to his legs while still being destroyed like a fucktoy. Chaewon taps Minju's ass and rests her head on her back, looking at you naughtily. "Open your mouth and eat her ass," you ask her, diving her head on Minju's butt as Chaewon sticks her tongue out to lick her former groupmate's butthole, enjoying a perfect view of Minju's pussy being stretched out.

You once again perform your classic pussy-to-mouth switcheroo between Chaewon and Minju, making the former laugh once you're ready to pound Minju more and more. Chaewon spits on your dick and gropes Minju's ass cheeks as the younger beuty turns into a moaning mess. "Come to me," you ask Chaewon while Minju is still on all fours, completely neutralized and submissive. She's not going to be able to walk for the next few days.

Chaewon gets ready to sit on your cock as Minju turns around to watch her unnie's upcoming wild ride, still on her knees and very sore. "Turn around," you tell Chaewon. "Ohhh, uhhhh," she moans in anticipation as you fully impale her. You grab Chaewon by her ass and push your cock up her cunt under Minju's watchful eye. "Lick my balls, lick those fucking balls," you ask Minju, who dives between your legs as you push Chaewon's butt slightly upwards to let Minju have a full view of your shaft. Chaewon keeps throwing words of incentive to fuck her harder as you pump her hole faster and she rests her body on your torso.

You lock Chaewon's arms behind her back. "Please, please, fuck me harder," she demands. "I love fucking that pusssy so much," you tell her after kissing her tenderly. "AHHHH FUCK," you are the first to scream as your fast poundings and Minju's mouth on your balls get you close and force you to calm down, but not for long as Chaewon gets more demanding as you resume pounding her while sucking her perky tits. "Deeper. Harder," she keeps saying. You spank her ass, choke her, and pinch her nipples as you get rougher on her, trying to match Chaewon's demanding style. It seems like too much cock is never enough for her.

"I want all of it," Chaewon says. "Then take it, you fucking slut, every inch of it in your cunt," you angrily reply to her as your cock hits her cervix. But Chaewon is indeed antifragile and takes advantage of your little pause to take control of the ride and start bouncing full speed on your big pole.

You shove Chaewon to the side to not cum prematurely. "Lick it," you tell Minju, who rims your asshole and calms you a bit. But Chaewon comes back right where she left off, sitting on your face and grabbing your cock intensely as you two are now engaged on a 69. You try to fuck her face, but Chaewon and her mouth of steel successfully defeat you, with her taking your cock fully deep in her throat and not letting it out. You start to scream again and hold her as hard as you can by the waist. Minju sniffs your balls, and you keep pushing up Chaewon's throat to free yourself from her, but she doesn't bend an inch.

Chaewon only lets you off the control of her throat to talk to Minju, but she is still grabbing your shaft. "Hmmm, yeah, you like licking his balls?" she asks. Minju nods in agreement. "You like being a good little slut?" she continues. "Yes, ma'am," Minju replies in a way that feels like she's almost worshipping Chaewon. "Then go get my rope; go get it," Chaewon replies as she slaps Minju's porcelain face and makes it red.

"Do you want more?" Chaewon giggles as she puts her back against the bed. "Yes, I fucking want more," you say. That woman is getting on your nerves. Sex seems so easy to her. You fuck her like a raging animal, yet she barely flinches. Minju brings the rope, as asked. Chaewon is more satisfied than ever as she ties it around her neck. You put Chaewon's feet in your mouth and pound her in a hardcore missionary, while she slowly wraps the rope fully around her neck.

"Get on the bed," Chaewon tells Minju as she also wraps the youngster around her rope. Your hands hard-fingering Chaewon's cunt and the rope choking her are finally what make her cave and start moaning. "Oh, I love it, I love it, I love it," she says. You start teasing Chaewon's pussy, going in and out of it as you sense her getting more sensitive. "AHHHHH!" she yells as your cock hits the depths of her vagina. Chaewon starts to beg as you grope her boobs and manhandle her. For the first time, you're the real boss, as she grinds her teeth at each pounding your manhood prescribes on her pussy.

Your balls clap hard on her skin while you make fast movements on Chaewon's clitoris, playing with it like a musician playing with the strings of a guitar. "Make that pussy cum," she is still able to demand despite looking as weak as ever. Your whole hand now rests over her clit, making aggressive moves in search of that fallen angel nectar. "OHHHH. OHHHHH. OHHHHH." For the first time, Chaewon turns into a screaming machine; her hard walls clench and start to fall apart.

Chaewon grabs your neck and asks for more, but this time you show her who's in control, as she gets double choked by your hands and the rope. Minju is now merely a spectator of you two's debauchery, as she barely feels her legs after a pounding that looked easy compared to the one Chaewon is taking. Chaewon grunts, and you answer in the same manner, blowing off steam at her slutty, choked face.

"Give it to me," she keeps asking like usual, now with her legs fully spread and her toes going over her head. You could punish her with a surprise cumshot in her cunt right now but decide to have some mercy, instead bringing Minju back to action as you two team up to eat Chaewon's pussy and get her even weaker. Chaewon is strong enough to choke Minju using her legs, but two tongues working her throbbing folds still make her moan as hard as she ever did.

You make eye contact with Minju and give her kisses between the licking you two are performing. You are falling in love with Minju's ethereal beauty. Meeting the love of your life on top of her former groupmate's pussy is a story you don't see often. You stick your cock back inside Chaewon but now treat her as just an audition to impress Minju, who watches it up close with her head still wrapped around Chaewon's legs. As Chaewon asks you to go deeper, you shove your entire cock inside her, not even sparing your balls.

"All the way," Chaewon demands. And you will go all the way, treating Chaewon like a fucktoy, just like the way she treats all her sex partners. "Give me all your cock," Chaewon continues to demand. You give all your cock, but not to her. "Open your mouth," you ask Minju, who stretches her beautiful lips out to receive the juices of her unnie first hand. Minju gets fucked in the face just enough for you to resume the rampage on Chaewon.

You press Minju's head against Chaewon's belly, making her feel the fire under it. You stick your cock balls deep once more inside that insatiable whore, making her scream as you reach her cervix as you feed Minju right after. Chaewon laughs as you use your wrath and frustration to destroy Minju's pretty face. You push yourself to the floor and drag Chaewon alongside you, plowing her cunt in front of Minju's manager. "Harder, harder, harder," she begs as her tits jiggle at each pounding.

Minju's manager is the one enjoying it the most, as he gets to enjoy an extremely sexy view starting with Chaewon and Minju's heads locked at each other, their hairs very messy, going down Chaewon's bouncy tits as she gets plowed down low with your huge stick, her legs fully spread like a crab while you finger her clit with both your thumbs. The manager can't resist such visual overstimulation and cums without touching himself.

"You like watching it?" Chaewon asks the manager just as he finishes bursting a huge load on his trousers. "Tell me, use your words?" she keeps pushing in between moans. Chaewon is now the one auditioning as she pulls out of your cock and sits on your face, getting close to the manager and attempting to seduce him as she points her milky tits and moaning face right in his sights. As she groans harder, she finally gets a positive response from the manager.

Chaewon giggles but is quickly interrupted by the pressure you put on her pussy. "OHHHHH FUCKKK!" she screams as you lead her to finally have an orgasm in front of Minju's manager. You try to take advantage of it by resuming pounding Chaewon and choking her harder using the rope you now hold with your left hand, but she quickly shuts it down and just enjoys your hard and deep thrusts. "Harder," she says, going back to asking.

You asphyxiate Chaewon with the rope and slap her tits; that only turns her into more of a sex demon. Despite you choking her, she's the one who takes control of the ride and gives you yet another close call. "FUCK!" you scream as you kick Chaewon back up to the bed, putting her body upside down while you demand Minju to lick her pussy. You two finally manage to tame Chaewon as her face is buried on Minju's hips while yours are in her insatiable cunt.

"You want that cum?" Chaewon asks Minju as you free her for one last rodeo. "Tell us you want it," she keeps saying. Minju sticks her tongue out, signaling to you that she's begging to taste that cum. "Are you gonna give her the cum or not?" Chaewon provokes you as you grope her tits.

"Cover me in your cum; show how much you love us," Chaewon says. As much as she got on your nerves, you can't say no to such a sex goddess as you ejaculate your semen all over her body, paying special attention to hitting her mole and her boobs the most. Chaewon drains your balls before you can even spare a load for Minju, who has to lick her unnie's sexy body to taste your protein, which Minju does perfectly, filling her cute mouth and pretty face with sperm.

"Good girl," Chaewon tells Minju as she licks and kisses her nipples, which end up being her favorite spot. Minju gives your cock one last deepthroat, which helps her swallow most of your cum, leaving a few drops to swap with Chaewon as they kiss each other. You and Minju are extremely tired, both your genitalia throbbing in pain after such a long and hard sex session. It turns out Chaewon is just an insane woman, which is too much for you two to handle. Minju rests her head on your lap as you tenderly caress her, falling in love as both of you fall asleep on the bed.

But that sleep is short-lived. After 20 minutes or so, you and Minju open your eyes. The first thing Minju sees as she wakes up is her manager manhandling a woman and treating her like a dog, using a rope to choke her while she curses.

"Fuck me in front of her."

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