#ugh this is so sweet I can’t even 🤧🤧🤧 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fangel · 2 months ago

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KIPO, MY LOVE !!!!! ｡･ﾟ･(つㅿ⊂)･ﾟ･｡ i may or may not have read this live commentary over several times bc the joy it brings me like omg praise kink going brrrrr anyways i will also ramble a bit with you bc YOUR MIND ?? THE ANALYSIS YOU DID !!!! you Get It 🤍

this is so messy and i’ll try and get to everything — my life has been so hectic from my phone breaking to new meds that sedate me and now having a boyfriend who is so clingy that i don’t have a moment to get online and open tumblr / reply abdwbaknaksoa (not hating on him but DAMN !! i have to get back to my people 😭) anyways, I LOVE YOU SO FREAKING MUCH, KIPO !!!! 🤍☁️

small towns and their many churches like WHAT IS GOING ON !!! being a small country town girl myself i literally just imagined this setting as where im from bc its too easy !! like there’s not shit here but oh wait !!! there’s 10s of churches….

i believe that everyone can find a piece of themselves in this mc. she’s so me and i LOVE that so others can related to her as well </3 WE LOVE A CURIOUS AND VIOLENT GIRL SHES SO RAW AND BEAUTIFULLY HUMAN !!!

insane and dark sided is what i know best. had to do it to em 😞

I DIDNT REALIZE I MADE HER LIFE SO MISERABLE I WAS JUST LIKE YEAH LORE LORE !! THERES A REASON SHES LIKE THIS. and it’s straight depression LMAO

YES !!! I was heavily inspired by the Pearl, X, and Maxxxine trilogy. literally Pearl is one of my favorite movies and I was watching them back to back while writing this 😭 with Ethel Cain was playing so yeah it’s HEAVY in this story. I love that you realized this hehe <3 !!!

NOT THE WAKE UP AND DAY ONE 😭😭😭

UGH ZHAJSKAJAOWLAPAO HEHHEHE thank you so much my lovely sweet angel baby Kipo ): this paragraph of feedback literally feuls me and makes me want to keep going and improving. i cannot explain how much this means to me honestly <3 !!!!! i literally put my whole pussy into writing this fic and even reading it back im like how the hell did i do that.. how could i ever top this ??

I WILL PUBLISH A BOOK ONE DAY !!! (i scream through the tears and anxiety of actually sitting down and writing a whole book)

THE STUPID FUCK EVIL DAD WAS THE PROBLEM FROM THE START !!! there had to be a villain and he was it.. #NoRegrets

YES !!! i love your brain and critical thinking skills like thank you media literacy 🤧 !! the toxic environment mc grew up around with religious parents who are anything but holy yet portray a ‘perfect and clean’ simple life etc. my brain fog is so bad i can’t explain but i know you understand it perfectly I mean you clearly hit the nail on the details here 😭 ily ily ily AND NO YOURE NOT READING TOO MUCH INTO THINGS LIKE YOURE SO RIGHT AND PERFECT ABOUT EVERYTHING YOU COULD DO NO WRONG OMG KISS ME I MEAN WAIT—

coward mother and insane father = hot deranged socially underdeveloped daughter. i speak for all the people (not just daughters) of tumblr. like we’re all on here and none of us can possibly have perfect parents.. we’re here for a reason……….

SIDE NOTE MY FUCKING WIFI KEEPS CUTTING OUT AND I KEEP LOSING PLACE ON WHERE I AM SCROLLING ON MY LAPTOP IN THE REVIEW IM SO SORRY IF I MISS POINTS YOUR MAKING UGHHSHHSHAKSNAK

OMG YES MC MISTAKING HER OWN DESIRE FOR ANGER IS SUCH A HUGE PRESENCE THROUGHOUT THE STORY !! i don’t think many people noted that but I knew you’d come through ♥️

YOURE THE ONLY ONE WHO POINTED OUT THE MEANING OF THE FLOWERS BEING PURITY AND INNOCENCE AND HOPE OH MY GODDDD 😭♥️‼️ there’s meaning behind all my choices here holy fuck i adore you so bad you deserve the world

stop 😭😭 the singing in the reviews and every comment has me smiling or laughing LIKEEEE this is so fun hehe

I had to make a love story be dark and questionable. because honestly i feel like that’s how love has been for me my whole life. i always wondered if i was capable of being vulnerable around others and able to reciprocate kindness in the traditional relationship type way and i honestly just let it all here. like this is just me speaking through a fan fiction 😭😭 and im so beyond happy that others relate bc it gives a sense that it’s normal to feel this way. it’s still human to doubt and hate yourself bc of how life has treated you. i’m rambling and idk what im saying anymore *cries in corner*

THE LAMB !!! everything you said is *chefs kiss* I need to send you stickers and love letters and candies and all things sweet because Yes. i love symbolism and metaphors. i will eat it down every time. — the lamb, the blood and cleanse, the tears, the teachings and lessons of giving / stripping innocence or purity. she hates her father but cannot help but resemble him because it’s so ingrained into her. and sunghoon is NOT like the other lambs !!!! YES SAID IT !!!!!!!! he does challenge her and all the ways she never expected. they balance each other so well :( yin and yang, the sun and the moon. AND REDEMPTION!!! another big part of the story !!! SHUTUP KIPO :(( ♥️ i can’t.. you will be hand delivered a copy of this physical from me as well as 1 million dollars bc FUCKKK you just GET IT — i love your passion 🤓👆🏼

IM GIGGLING AT THE COMMENTS I CANTTT IM SMILING SO MUCH AAAHAHAHHHHHHHHH

i have such a strange relationship with religion. the jesus fandom ruined it for me 🙄 like why can’t we just enjoy the aesthetics and cool lines from the book. why are people so sick and twisted about it like it rules how we live our life?? i could say more but ill stick with that….

BEING UNCOMFORTABLE WITH COMFORT PEOPLE ‼️‼️ we exist ‼️‼️ and i will represent them 😏

ATTIC ANGEL REFERENCE !!! 📢 also I do imagine that this is the same universe and Jake before Attic Angel takes place…… i don’t remember all the details from AA but I know I mentioned a private religious college he went to and yes this is that. my multiverse. also noticed how HoP mc can always pinpoint a ‘bad’ man… she notices things — YOU ALSO CAUGHT THE OTHER SMALL JAKE REFERENCE !!! YESSSS everything has a purpose

YEP !! for the first time, during actual sex, SH isn’t crying but mc is… oh how things change

I WAS DEADASS JUST USING MAXXXINE FOR INSPO HERE LIKEEEE “I KNOW NO PUNISHMENT, ONLY MERCY” is my just version of “I WILL NOT ACCEPT A LIFE I DO NOT DESERVE” HEHEHEHE

#UnlearnShame

My dear Kipo, I just read all of your kindness with the absolute biggest smile on my face. This means the entire world to me and it’s because of people like you that I believe I can pursue my dream of one day being a published author. I know this is ‘fanfiction’ but I truly do my very best whenever I write. I sometimes question if I take my ‘hobby’ too seriously or if i’m wasting time on something that may lead to nothing but when I read responses like yours it gives me hope that I can continue to do great things. I have such a passion for storytelling and it’s one of the only things i’ve ever loved doing and am actually proud of, so thank you. Thank you so so so freaking much for taking your time to not only read my story but also give such lengthy feedback. In genuinely gives me hope and happiness like no other. I love you so much not only for this but for inspiring me to get back into writing. (I will be front row and center of the stage for The Lighthouse rework because it’s truly that story.) I mean this with every fiber of my being that I owe it all to you. You’re not only a beautiful and talented soul, but an inspiration to many. Thank you, thank you, thank you. ♡ I wish I could show you how much this means to me the words aren’t enough i fear

and i’m sorry if i missed anything, having shitty wifi and a broken phone is fcking me rn :(

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

#filmnings #﹙ 🧾 ﹚— feedback 𐙚‧₊˚♡#IM SO HAPPY YOU FINALLY GOT AROUND TO HOP !!!#ILYSM AND YOUR FEEDBACK AND REACTIONS MAKE ME SMILE SO BAD #every piece i write is a dedication to you for getting me back into storytelling 😭🤍

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leejenowrld · 2 months ago

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Random thoughts I had in this journey so far (till chapter 6)

- why is there a anymosity between Nahyun and Y/n, like why did it started and how, when they were at the hotel room just felt weird I don’t know

- chapter 3 is definitely one of my faves, it’s so fluffy, they’re so cute and couple in love even if they don’t know/don’t wanna admit yet. I also love the scene when he is showing his house and telling those stories and it’s so intimate and I really felt how close they were becoming🤧and she telling everything to Shotaro later😭

- When Irene said that thing about someone having to look for her, where is her family? How is the dynamic? I don’t know if it’s that relevant but I keep thinking about it

- The threesome scene just wow

- OMG the moment she was describing the people entering the club and being people from campus I was like “no no no” I really felt that and I felt so bad I even cried a little because it’s another part of her life that was just hers (and Jeno’s) and know people knew and were shaming on her and I felt really bad for her

- another scene that I cried a little was that entire conversation with Taeyong😭

Anyways just random stuff that got in my mind because last night I really felt like reading a lot, I was planning reading just until the 3rd or 4th but things were gotten so interesting. Today or tomorrow I’ll probably finish we’ll see!!

And I’m loving it so much I can’t wait for the rest, even if it ends soon, I’m curious about how it will end (I think y/n and Jeno will be fine and together, but that’s just what I think I know you won’t spoil anything🤐). When everything ends I will still read again some chapters because became a comforting series for me too, one of the best I have ever read, and I will look forward to whatever else you may release in the future (this ask it’s too long but I wanna say that I have read other stuff by you too, not just bty)

-🥐

hi my sweet 🥐!! this message was such a joy to read — the way you’ve been sitting with the story, feeling so many things so deeply, made me really emotional. i’m so glad it’s resonating with you like this. thank you for taking the time to share your thoughts so fully — i loved every single one.

the nahyun/y/n tension you mentioned is absolutely something you’re supposed to feel, even without all the context yet. it’s not random, there is a reason for it, a history, and it becomes clearer the more you read. they’re not just strangers thrown into proximity. there’s something cold and tightly wound between them, and yes, the hotel room moment was meant to feel deeply off. y/n’s intuition is sharp, and nahyun has always been someone who sees her as a threat. their dynamic has always carried this sense of veiled hostility, jealousy, and silent competition but it’s never cartoonish. it’s quiet and seething, which in many ways is worse. you'll find out more about the roots of that discomfort in the later chapters, so keep your eye on the micro-moments.

chapter 3 being your fave makes me so happy — it’s one of the softest, most emotionally vulnerable pockets of the entire college arc. that house tour scene was my personal favourite to write. there’s something about jeno finally letting her in, in a quiet way — not to impress, not to seduce, but just to share. and the fact that she recounts it all to shotaro later… ugh. shotaro and y/n’s friendship has always been one of the truest mirrors for how much she wants to believe in something. that version of her — a little giddy, letting herself fall — breaks my heart.

tbh y/n is close with her family, i’ve written asks about it before. she defo feels misplaced sometimes and feels closer to mark and jeno rather but she has a lot of love for her upbringing. i didn’t want to go down the stereotypical route “she never belonged at home” cos she did, it’s just that i can’t really fit it into the fic. but fun fact jeno has actually fucked her older sister long before he got involved with y/n !!!

the bar moment wrecked me when writing it, and i’m glad (and also so sorry) it made you feel what it did. there’s something so violating about losing a private world you built for yourself — especially when it was your only place of control, of escape, of sensuality that belonged to you. the fact that it became fodder for campus gossip, reduced to whispers and shame, was such a turning point for her. and for jeno. because that was the beginning of them being seen, not as a couple in love, but as a scandal. and it hurt her deeply.

and the taeyong conversation — god. i was shaking writing it. their dynamic is laced with so much unsaid pain, power imbalance, and unspoken trauma. and it’s not over.

the way you read through so many chapters in one night and still took the time to cry, to sit with it, to feel things — that means everything to me. i don’t take it lightly. i know it’s a lot, and i know it’s heavy sometimes, but you’ve allowed the story to hold you and you’ve held it back, and that’s the most beautiful kind of exchange there is between writer and reader.

thank you for reading my other works too. that means the world. and when bty ends, i promise there will still be more. because this universe has changed me, and having readers like you to share it with… i couldn’t ask for anything more. sending you all my love and can’t wait to hear your thoughts when you finish 🩷

#fic — backtoyou asks #fic — backtoyou #🥐 anon

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1d1195 · 2 years ago

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Omg yes that was me!!! I forgot to put my Purple Heart emoji like an idiot 😭 but it feels so sweet that you assumed it was me🤧

and the trenches….girl it’s a mess lol I started my junior year of college and I’ve been burnt out FOR YEARS and honestly I don’t like it but I love learning so this sucks! Plus I lost this really cool paid internship to a NEPO BABY AND I WANTED TO BURN A BUILDING!!! (Not really but ya know what I mean lol) and so many other things and it’s just the first week 😭

What’s wild is that I love reading and coming on here and giving feedback to the writers on here and it makes me happy but I just feel so drained and sad I can’t give it right away :( but interacting with you does make me feel better, promise!!!

And in terms of the story and cute nicknames, I think you already know my love for any of them especially kitten! Sunshine is cute and honestly I get a feeling she gives off the vibes of giving him a nickname and saying it first if that makes sense? Idk lol

Thank you btw I always appreciate you answering and genuinely I enjoy our little convos on here 😭-💜

The message totally had you vibes so I'm glad it was you. I would have felt bad if it sounded like you were someone else and I didn't notice 🙈💕

Burn out is so real. Make sure you do things for yourself. Also, you didn't need the () I would TOTALLY burn a building with you/for you. I get it. ALL IN THE FIRST WEEK. STOP. I would scream. Ugh ugh ugh. I hope you can find another internship and stuff. Idk what you're studying but if you need an internship I bet it's fancy and I hope it will pan out for you. Maybe you'll even get a Harry like the one in Traditional hehehehe 😉😉🤣🤣🤣

You have to take care of yourself first; don't worry about feedback here. Tbh if you wrote "I read it and liked it" that would be enough. I'm honored you take the time to provide more than that, of course. I love our convos so so much

And it's funny you mentioned her giving him a nickname... 😉😉

xoxo

#💜

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fischlsbubbletea · 3 years ago

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D0 Y0U R3M3MB3R… ☔️

(Giyuu x fem reader | Modern AU)

> 1NF0: AG3 R4T1NG: N/A <3

1NGR3D13NTS: Fluff ! No warnings 🍮 fem/girl y/n ^^ she/her & they/them pronouns used in fic if there are any !! Shy reader !!!

A/N: Hiiii omg I’m so nervous about posting this, this is one of my first few fics, so yeah haha. I know this won’t get much attention haha… I hope you will all like this fanfic as I put a fair amount of work and time into it, mainly because I didn’t know what to write LOL, if you could like it to show that you enjoyed it then I would be over the moon 💕 I’m really sorry if it’s bad, I’m pretty new to writing fics… ALSO, I JUST WANNA SAY I LOVE GIYUU SM, HE HAS MY HEART 😭🤧 shiii I just realised I have no clue how to write him, oh well, nvm | I’m not the greatest at writing so please ignore how bad it is TwT <

‘Huff, huff… HUFF’

You arrived at the bookshop that you’d been waiting ages to see, it was the biggest one in Tokyo, the one in your local town paled in comparison to this creme de la creme of bookstores. You can’t believe you actually made it just as the heavy downpour of rain you’d been expecting started to batter the city. You recount what your childhood friend had said about the bookshop, he’d told you when he moved, to go to [bookshop name] and he’d find you again… it’s been so long that you can only remember the nickname you’d given him… ‘Gi’ and his sweet smile you used to hold dear. There’s no way I’ll see him again though, you see that now.

‘Ding’, the doorbell cries out as you open the door. A cold shiver runs through you and instinctively you rub your arms as you look around. Wow what an amazing bookshop… you wonder in and walk over to the [insert favourite genre] section, the one section you visit before anything else, there are so many books in this section. I’ll have to make a habit of coming here.

You are so engrossed in looking at the books that you don’t notice a guy standing right next you and end up crashing into him. You stumble onto him and he - unprepared for a random person falling on him - stumbles back and you end up falling on top of the guy… ‘Arghhh… ow’, oh no… ‘Did I just fall on someone?!?’ you whisper sharply to yourself, you start to freak out. You quickly open your eyes and find you are laying on someone’s body but not like in the movies where you fall on their chest and then your eyes meet and it’s really cute, NO, you have your head on his stomach and not even facing towards the ceiling, your face is embedded in someone’s stomach. ‘AHH!’, you let an embarrassed wail and rush to get your face off the poor guy, your ears start to become hot and redden as you profusely apologise to him, your eyes squint shut from being too embarrassed to face him.

You finally have the courage to open your eyes again slowly once you feel you’ve apologised enough to find a twenty something year old man with black hair pulled back messily into a ponytail, his eyes stare right into yours… seemingly dumbfounded and a light shade of pink covers his cheeks. He’s lying against a bookcase at an angle so awkward that you can’t help but let out a small giggle. You start to blush too. ‘…Sorry, sorry, haha. Are you ok?’ you nervously say to him.

He just sits there in silence.

You shakily stammer out ‘Uhhh p-please answer! Are you ok? Did… did you hit your head?’, worried you did more damage than you thought. ‘Huh- no, I’m fine. Ugh, you hit me pretty hard. Did I… hurt you at all?’ ‘No, no, not at all… rather, it was actually a-a soft landing’ you say to him trying not to laugh. ‘Oh…’ the messy haired guy says processing what you had just said, once he finally realised you’d fallen on his stomach his cheeks turned a dark shade of red, ‘Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to make you embarrassed… Oh yeah, I should help you up shouldn’t I, I’m such an idiot.’.

You rise to your feet and help him up onto his, he wobbly gets up and thanks you. ‘No need to thank me, I was the one who fell on you! Still, your welcome haha. By the way, I didn’t get your name, what is it?’ ‘…Tomioka Giyuu… What’s yours?’ ‘Oh, I’m L/N Y/N.’ ‘You can call me Giyuu if you want to be informal.’ Giyuu says in way that almost sounds like he’s pleading for you to call him by his name. ‘Okay… Giyuu.’.

Standing there awkwardly you begin to notice how good looking Giyuu is…

His messy black hair that beautifully contrasts his pale complexion, his blue eyes you could get lost in, his slender hands that look soft and smooth… You can feel yourself developing some kind of warm feeling, a warm feeling you’d felt once before so long ago, almost like a life time ago. This feeling burns in your chest.

It’s almost like I’ve met him before…

Giyuu’s throat clearing brings you back from your trance like state. Your face starts to feel hot and a lump forms in your throat that renders your ability to talk properly, ‘I-I uhh, you- I mean…’ you stutter out. ‘I-it’s fine… we should both go get some fresh air.’ Giyuu says, light blush still covering his cheeks.

Forgetting that it’s raining the two of you walk to the door. ‘I forgot it was raining…’ Giyuu says nonchalantly with a deadpan expression, you just have to laugh at him, he looks at you in an offended way and he can’t help but at least curl the corners of his lips into a vague smile, from the few minutes you’d spent in near him you’d figured out laughing wasn’t really his style. ‘I have to admit I forgot too though, it’s not just you.’ You tell him with a small giggle, ‘What shall we do then?’, Giyuu turns towards to section we’d just come from and says ‘it’s raining so let’s sit and read for a while.’, ‘Good idea.’.

Giyuu goes and sits down next to a pile of books you assume are his and you pick your book, a [Insert favourite genre] book, and take a seat across from Giyuu. Your eyes catch for a second before you both embarrassedly look away. You start your book but can’t help but steal glances up from your book every few minutes… soon an hour passes, then two.

After hours of getting lost in your book you finally finish to find him sleeping sitting up. Your heart starts to beat fast, he is so cute sleeping. You stare at him for a few minutes taking in all of his beauty, scanning over every little detail…

He wakes up suddenly and looks straight into your eyes, you’d been caught. You quickly look away and pretend you’d just happened to catch his strong gaze by accident which was obviously not the case, the both of you knew but ignored that.

‘I umm, uh sorry haha...’ You nervously mumble. Giyuu starts with ‘How long was I asleep?’, completely ignoring the thing that’d just occurred. You reply awkwardly, ‘Half an hour or so I think…’, ‘Oh… okay’ says visibly bothered.

‘The rain should have st-‘, Giyuu cuts you off…

‘Y/N… I know this is sudden and you probably don’t remember me but… do… you… do you remember me..?’ I remember you like I saw you just yesterday, you used to call me ‘Gi’ because you couldn’t pronounce my name properly...’ your heart starts to race hard, it thumps loudly against your chest, your head spins, what he’d just said shocks you so much you stand up and stutter out ‘I-I… I…’ as you back up, the memories come flooding back crystal clear now, you remember everything. Not knowing how to react you shout ‘I don’t know, sorry- sorry-‘ and run out confusing Giyuu. ‘Wait!’ Giyuu concerned yells after you.

‘DING’ the bell cries after you’d ran out, Giyuu runs out after you and you turn around with tears pricking your eyes. Suddenly warm arms embrace you in a hug, you are shocked and pull away but then you go limp, tears start steadily streaming down your cheeks and onto his chest.

‘You- you left me behind.’ you blubber into his chest, ‘I know… Y/N, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to though, you must know that.’ He softly says out of character, ‘I know…’ you quietly reply trying not to sob, ‘I’m sorry, I asked you a stupid question and didn’t even wait for the right moment, it must have been confusing… I was just so happy to see and be around you that I couldn’t hold back any longer.’ ‘It’s ok, I was just shocked…’ you look up to him, sniff and say ‘Sorry… I must look like a snotty mess.’ and then let out laugh. ‘No, don’t talk such nonsense…’

You are beautiful.’ Giyuu gently wipes your tear stained cheeks with a worried look. ‘Please don’t cry anymore Y/N, everything is ok.’ He tells you.

Giyuu whispers ‘Y/N, I’ll never leave you behind again...’.

‘Promise..?’

‘Promise.’

#giyuu angst #kny giyuu #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x you #kimetsu giyuu #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #character x reader #x reader #fanfic #shy reader #giyuu fluff #demon slayer fanfic #idk what else to tag #anime and manga

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seiwas · 2 years ago

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op i am going to put my thoughts here bc they for sure won’t fit the tags 😭💓

but this fic!! oh my god!! it’s just 🥺🥹 literally those emojis combined 🥺 so soft and so tender and so much love, i’ve said ur writing reminds me of a shoujo anime, op but this one—it’s just, a movie scene, but very specific to those in indie movies that ache and feel almost stolen if anything 🥺 and i just 🥺 ultimate comfort op my heart was tingling 😭

ur writing is so beautiful op!! like i listed down so many lines i really really loved!! (which i’ll share rn) sorry in advance for the rambling!!

a vacuum of stars — taunting in its perpetuity. <- this one omfg when u hit me with this op i was literally like 😦 that’s such a beautiful way to describe things in so few words

and this one too: your fingers in his hair, his footprints in your life. idk what u call it but i’m such a sucker for related words used in a sentence!! like the fingers and the footprints just uGh

and the way you explored satoru’s headspace through this all 🥺 i adore that !! my personal writing style leans towards thoughts/feelings so reading this kind of felt very… homey? something familiar but also entirely different 🥺 and your exploration of his thoughts on all this—love and affection, being cared for and being deserving of it all 🥺 made my heart clench!!!

how he comes home!! op!! the value u place on the home!!: satoru likes to think of your front door as a threshold between realms, a gap between within and without. & how!! he could get used to coming home to reader and i just 🥺

and you dropped so many lil bits n moments of satoru’s realisations too 🥺 and i just ! my heart just !!! every single time i read them i went: oh

food tastes better, satoru has come to realize, when you have someone to eat it with.

cookie jars placed on the highest shelf to give him an excuse to help you reach them,

maybe some sunflowers, something that could rival the brightness of your smile.

it comes to him so easily, when he’s with you; that upturn of his lips, the butterflies in his stomach.

having someone who worries for you is a luxury, satoru has come to realize.

they’re all so powerful bc they’re such small, subtle things but you have a way of magnifying them op 🥹 idk how u do it but it’s just so !!!! i love subtle intimacies and this entire fic was full of it!!!

when he calls reader silly omg 🤧 shut up that is so cute & then it’s even worse when he calls em ‘sleeping beauty’ omfg 😭

i like your take that satoru finds an easy, sweet love w reader 🥺 and that he realises that’s rlly how it’s supposed to be 🥺 mainly bc — i think he’s always been handed all these big, difficult things to handle nskensj and i like how u render his technique weak at the prospect of love 🥺 i just !!

and this bit: “did you… make these?” a pause. ”for me?” + “he can’t possibly be allowed to feel so loved — can he?” made my heart ache!! like he can’t believe it’s true 🥺 like why him? what did he do? (to deserve you?)

and it’s this!!:

maybe it’s more than that, maybe there’s nothing he can say or do; what words could he even begin to use to properly verbalize the emotions he’s feeling right now? how could his touch even begin to measure up to the sweet sensation unfurling in his chest?

his slow realisation that sometimes love is just like that, and there’s nothing to do but feel it, accept it, and hope that whoever he loves knows how he feels and feels it right back 🥺

and the small touches !!! the kiss to his neck !!! when he kisses reader !!! op im melting !!! for real 🥺

i love the reader you made for him here, so tender so loving ! worrying about him always even though he says there’s no need ☹️ and how he receives it !! by trying to fix his bad habits bc reader’s always concerned for him ☹️ and !!! when reader dotes on him i was sniffling !! “You did well” jaisnskdj i think bc he doesn’t get told it enough !!!! and i love exploring that side to him always !! the one that’s babied and handled with care 🥺

and their banter!! u got the perfect balance op 🥺 reader was so tender n loving while still so witty !! n teasing !! in the way satoru is ! and that makes for such good banter uGH i wish i could write like this 🥺

this scene:

”woah there,” satoru chokes out, grinning, desperately hoping you don’t notice the red tint to his ears. ”are you flirting with me? i have a partner, you know.”

a giggle slips from your lips, sleepy and amused. ”oh, do you?” one of your hands goes to cup his cheek, thumb caressing the edge of his jaw as you gaze at him fondly. ”lucky them.”

i love it bc the joking around feels so intimate 🥺

and yeah 🥺 i rlly loved this so much op!! thank u thank u for writing it!!!

i’ll relearn love at our kitchen table ; satoru gojo

synopsis; satoru still doesn’t really know what love is supposed to feel like. but if it means coming home to you, and getting to bask in the warmth of your embrace and the sweet scent of pastries, then maybe it’s fine if it’s a curse.

word count; 4.9k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, satoru gojo vs. the mortifying ordeal of being loved, fluff fluff fluff!!, a hint of angst if you reeeaallyyy squint, gojo’s pov, the babygirlification of satoru gojo, i just think being babied would fix him <3

a/n; i wanted to write something for suguru or shoko but this man is genuinely holding my brain hostage atp so more satoru fluff it is!! physically i could write gojo angst yes but emotionally? imagine the toll…

when satoru steps over the threshold to your apartment, he’s downright exhausted.

a heavy kind of fatigue, a little sickening. the kind that seems to sneak its way into his bones, crawl its way under his skin. dragging him down, down, down.

a yawn slips from his lips.

the mission itself wasn’t too tough — anything is a breeze for satoru gojo, that fact needs no elaboration. this one was just a little more taxing than usual, slightly more important, which means he had to deal with the technicalities of it all. had to listen to the elders go on and on about the importance of discretion, about finishing things swiftly and efficiently, and something else he didn’t stick around long enough to hear.

and the curse? a small fry, really. nothing worth fussing over. but it was annoying, with that irritatingly effective barrier technique. how long did he have to stay inside that goddamn veil before it let him get close enough to land a hit?

satoru doesn’t want to think about it, can’t be bothered to figure it out when all he wants is to collapse into the warm comfort of a soft mattress.

all he knows is that when it finally lifted, the night sky was the only thing he could see. a vacuum of stars — taunting in its perpetuity.

so, with all that being said; to say satoru feels a little worn out might be a bit of an understatement.

hair slightly tousled, eyelids heavy with sleep-deprivation, he slumps against the wall and allows himself to simply breathe. a soft groan flows from his parted lips as he stretches idly, a small respite for his stiff and achy joints, his tired muscles.

it’s been a long day. but satoru still finds it in him to exhale a relieved breath, to drag his blindfold down to his neck and kick off his shoes.

because it’s been a long, long day — but now he’s finally home.

(not just a house, not just an apartment, but a home. a place of comfort and belonging. satoru didn’t think that was a luxury he would ever be able to afford.)

the moment he lets the door close behind him, a particular scent greets him. soothing in its familiarity, the only thing in his life that never seems to change; a blend between fresh laundry, and watered houseplants, and something that smells a bit like honey. maybe even sweeter than usual, though satoru chalks that up to his mind playing tricks on him.

it’s nice. so nice. coming back to something warm and real, a respite from his hectic work. a safe haven of sorts, one that hasn’t been taken from him just yet.

satoru likes to think of your front door as a threshold between realms, a gap between within and without. one is dark in its saturation, plagued by that never-fading smell of iron, while the other is simply warm. sacred in its normalcy.

everything looks just as it should, the same as when he rushed out this morning; a fluffy blanket draped over the couch haphazardly, that soft golden light streaming out from the kitchen, your shoes by the front door.

satoru blinks, drowsily.

wait.

why is the kitchen light still on?

as if his eyes could ever deceive him, satoru rubs the skin under them groggily — blinking once, then twice.

yep, it’s still there — that soft fluorescent glow. a sight he’s come to associate with breakfast and dinner and a mellow kind of love, laughter shared over warm meals made by human hands. food tastes better, satoru has come to realize, when you have someone to eat it with.

ah, but it’s odd. did you forget to turn the lights off? that’s not very like you.

as if possessed by a strange, irresistible longing, his feet carry him to the kitchen in question. undeniably groggy, his uncoordinated steps are riddled with fatigue, but the yearning in his chest compels him to move forward anyway — a kind of yearning he only fully understands when he enters the space, and sees you slumped over the table, a familiar flicker of cursed energy capturing his attention.

you’re asleep.

satoru stills, where he stands by the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.

everything looks the same as always — cookie jars placed on the highest shelf to give him an excuse to help you reach them, origami made from newspapers he never bothers to read anyway, a vase standing proudly on the kitchen counter, stuffed with fresh flowers he bought for you two days ago.

the red roses still haven’t wilted, shining in the blue of the moonlight flickering in. good. they’re pretty, but maybe next time he should get you something more original. maybe some sunflowers, something that could rival the brightness of your smile. do they even sell sunflowers this time of year?

if you were awake, he would ask you, preferring your guidance over google’s. but you're not awake, you’re fast asleep, cheek squished against the kitchen table as you softly snore.

satoru feels his mood lift at the sight alone, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as tired anymore. something soft and almost otherworldly sprouts in his chest, as he takes you in, stepping closer. almost giddy, just to see you up close.

you look so peaceful and relaxed, so content. elbows resting on the table as soft little breaths fall from your lips; he spots a bit of drool on the corner of your bottom lip, gaze fond as he wipes it away with his thumb. he can’t resist the urge to poke your cheek, and it makes you stir ever so slightly — lips curling up into something akin to a sleepy smile.

satoru grins.

(you’re so cute.)

despite his fatigue, he hears himself chuckle, all soft and amused and a little bit lovesick. it comes to him so easily, when he’s with you; that upturn of his lips, the butterflies in his stomach.

satoru is still getting used to it. this cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love. the kind that always feels like spring.

but with every day that passes, the life he has with you becomes a little easier to digest. his future with you becomes a little easier to visualize.

yeah, he thinks. he could get used to this. coming home to you.

a soft smile, as he exhales a somewhat exasperated breath. you really shouldn’t be sleeping out here, though. silly.

satoru leans forward, inching closer to your pretty, sleeping face — he almost feels bad, waking you up like this. but he wants to hear your voice so badly.

so he cups your cheek, cold skin meeting warm, his hands still lingering with the bite of the midnight air. his fingertips tingle, buzzing with the body heat that trickles from your veins to his — one single touch is all it takes for him to soften.

the word that falls from his lips breaks the peaceful silence of the kitchen, breathing life into the moment. whispered into your ear, causing your brows to furrow as you gently slip from sleep’s embrace.

“baby…”

satoru is smiling, when your eyelids flutter open. a sincere smile, reserved for you and his students. bathed in the mellow hue of the kitchen lamp’s illumination, a soft glow curls around the strands of his white hair, a halo of artificial light.

blinking sleepily, you gaze at him in silence. something shines in your eyes, something satoru tentatively recognizes as adoration.

satoru gazes right back at you, with heavy-lidded eyes and a lopsided smile. teasing, lighthearted. thumb smoothing over the apple of your cheek.

he grins, hopelessly endeared. ”hey there, sleeping beauty.”

a yawn tumbles from your lips, and you lift yourself up, leaning into his touch. “toru…” you mumble, voice a little raspy but still oh so sweet.

satoru doesn’t say anything. he simply takes you into his arms, gently, touch so very delicate — as if you’re made of porcelain. and you just let yourself fall into his embrace, while he tucks you under his chin, safe and secure.

it’s warm, he thinks. it feels right. complete, somehow.

and satoru thinks to himself that this must be what love feels like. what it’s supposed to feel like, anyhow, all sweet and light. all good and normal, something you never have to question. a cornerstone.

“you’re back…” you drawl, muffled into his uniform as your arms sneak around his thin waist. bringing him closer.

stroking the back of your head softly, satoru’s chest rumbles as he speaks, voice deep and a little raspy. soothing, a lullaby just for you. “yeah,” he hums. ”were you waiting?”

all you do is nuzzle further into his chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart; breathing out a sleepy little mhm that has him going weak at the knees, lips curling up helplessly.

“i wanted to…” you continue, stretching your arms a little to shrug away the remnants of sleep still clinging to your joints. “but i fell asleep.”

satoru feels you move in his arms, until your jaw settles on top of his shoulder and you press a chaste kiss to his neck. an exhale leaves his lips, something tender in the way his breath wavers.

“welcome home,” is whispered, muffled against his skin. a sentence he never wants to go a single day without hearing. “did the mission go okay?”

satoru plants a kiss on top of your head, speaking in a low tilt, reassuring. “it did. just took a little longer than i thought.” a soft inhale, as he basks in the scent of your shampoo. “i wanted to text you, but the veil blocked my signal. sorry, sweetie.”

another soft yawn, and a shake of your head. “s’ fine, don’t worry,” you murmur. ”i’m just glad you’re okay.”

satoru chuckles. there’s a fondness to it, light. and then something else, something more heavy — it rumbles through his chest, almost like a purr, or a soothing thunderstorm. he can only hope it’s enough to comfort you.

“of course.” he says the words like they’re indisputable, like they’re written down in scriptures old and worn. cradling you in his strong arms, he pulls you closer to his chest. hoping you’ll feel his heartbeat against you, feel that he’s there. “i always am, aren’t i?”

no answer. only a tiny hum, absentminded.

and satoru knows, deep down, that his words don’t mean much. that a part of you is always going to worry over him, no matter how many times he tells you that there’s no need. that he’ll be fine.

the thought makes him feel a bit guilty. a little sick to his stomach, at the thought of being a source of your anxiety, the reason you can’t fall asleep at night.

but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t also make him feel somewhat giddy.

the thought tastes sweet, on his tongue, even though it probably shouldn’t. having someone who worries for you is a luxury, satoru has come to realize. a luxury he has, now, one he hasn’t felt since —

well. that’s neither here nor there.

(“be careful, satoru,” he recalls a kind boy saying.

but that was many, many springs ago.)

“oh, right.”

at the sound of your voice, satoru pulls away ever so slightly, gazing down at you. “hm?”

you take a step back, looking up at him with a tilt of your head. hands still resting securely on his waist, fingertips squeezing at his hips lightly, affectionately. ”have you had anything to eat yet?”

“yeah. got some takeout on my way back.”

satoru expects you to sigh in relief, at his instantaneous answer. you don’t like it when he skips meals, so these days he’s been trying not to do it as much. even though he doesn’t always have the time to eat properly, and even though the sweets he chews on between missions make him lose his appetite. but he makes an honest attempt, for you.

someone worries for him. someone wants him to eat well.

that’s more than enough for satoru gojo.

but you don’t exhale, and you don’t look very relieved, either. you look… disappointed. eyes suddenly glancing down at the floor, lips curled down into a barely noticeable frown.

“oh,” you breathe. “okay. good.”

one second. then two. satoru tilts his head.

“why?” he stops to think. maybe… “did you make something?”

a certain recognition flickers in the depths of your eyes, and satoru thinks he must be right on the money. chewing at your bottom lip a little, you wait a moment before curling your fingers around his wrist — tugging him away from the kitchen table.

satoru follows, pliantly, until you’re standing in front of the fridge.

“well, um… here,” you mumble, somewhat sheepishly. fingers tapping at the handle before pulling it open. “take a look.��

satoru watches as the fridge door opens, slowly.

he blinks.

the first thing he sees is a single slice of strawberry shortcake. the strawberry looks fresh, glittering like a ruby on top of the softly whisked cream — and layers of sponge cake, that look like they’d melt in his mouth.

and that’s not all. there are a wide array of baked treats stuffed into the cramped space, protected by plastic wrapping and containers. everything from cupcakes with too much frosting — just the way he likes them — to chocolate chip cookies that crumble at the corners, satoru never seems to run out of things to look at.

colourful treats, lovingly made and sitting right in front of him. it’s like he’s standing in a patisserie. they almost seem to sparkle, in the peripheral of his vision; glimmering softly, tantalizingly, like something out of a dream.

childish. that’s what nanami and shoko always call him, and he always protests, but — maybe they have a point, after all. satoru certainly feels a little childish, when he realizes his eyes must be wide and bursting with child-like giddiness. a simple kind of joy, at seeing the ample selection in front of him. especially after that tedious mission prevented him from getting any sugar into his system.

”i did my best,” you mutter, sharing the sight with him as your eyes trail over a pretty bag of macarons. ”dunno if they turned out any good, but… i hope you’ll like them.”

satoru’s gaze flits over to you.

he opens his mouth, and then closes it again.

”did you… make these?” a pause. ”for me?”

a blink. you look somewhat confused, nodding stiffly. ”yeah.” who else would they be for?, your eyes seem to say.

for a second, satoru only stares at you. in complete silence, the tired cogs inside his head turning sluggishly as he thinks about the implications of that answer. with a soft flutter, he feels his heartbeat pick up, warming him up from the inside out.

you made them. with your own hands. you made all of these and you did it for him.

for some reason, satoru finds it oddly hard to speak — like someone stuffed a bunch of cupcakes down his throat. it’s weird. usually he can’t seem to stop talking, especially not when he’s with you, but…

something about this is just too tender.

you must have been baking all day. no wonder the apartment smelled sweeter than usual, when he walked in.

as if itching to curl around one of the macarons, his fingers twitch, but satoru gulps and keeps them still. he wants to say something, anything, wants to thank you or ask why you’d spend so much of yourself on him, but satoru only stays silent.

and maybe it’s because he’s tired. maybe he’s just a little caught off guard. usually this wouldn’t be that hard to handle — he could just throw himself on you and shower you in kisses, show his appreciation with a flurry of dramatics and declarations of love.

but right now there seems to be a disconnect, between satoru’s mind and body. maybe the mission drained him more than he realized. or maybe it’s more than that, maybe there’s nothing he can say or do; what words could he even begin to use to properly verbalize the emotions he’s feeling right now? how could his touch even begin to measure up to the sweet sensation unfurling in his chest?

the silence doesn’t last long. as satoru stands there and spirals, you speak up, most likely chalking it up to him being too sleepy to react.

”this mission was especially rough, right?” you begin, with a soft tilt of your head. a smile curls its way onto your lips, proud and sweet. sweeter than everything in the fridge combined.

one step, then two. you inch closer to him, until there’s almost no space between you — standing on your tiptoes, one hand on his shoulder and the other reaching for his head. smoothing down his tousled hair, fingers tangling themselves between the soft white strands and getting lost in them. and it’s gentle, the way you begin to pat his head, doting.

then you speak. ”you did well.”

and it’s such a simple thing to say. three words, three syllables, but the words just tumble out from your mouth so earnestly that satoru can’t help but still. his breath hitches in his throat, softly, barely noticeable, but it’s there. that surprise.

satoru never knows how to act, when you get like this. patting his head and ruffling his hair like he’s something warm and sweet and worthy of love. something delicate, and not the strongest man on the planet.

it’s so weird. you’re so weird.

(satoru leans into your touch without thinking, allowing his eyes to flutter shut.)

it’s perplexing, this feeling, and the fact that he can’t pinpoint why frustrates him to no end. isn’t this wrong? shouldn’t he be the one ruffling your hair, coddling you?

what formula is he supposed to follow here, exactly? should he tease you? pull away from your touch?

satoru wishes his six eyes could tell him the answer, but they don’t. they’ve never been very good with emotions, with things that aren’t directly tied to his suffering or imminent death.

(so ironic. all these eyes and nothing to see. they failed to see suguru’s silence, back then, and now they fail to see what reaction would please you the most.

really, such a worthless ability to love people with.)

no answer comes to him. so satoru doesn’t tease you, and he doesn’t pull away.

it does feel slightly wrong, though. like this feeling isn’t something he’s supposed to have, there must be some mistake, he can’t possibly be allowed to feel so loved — can he? having you bake him all his favorite treats, run your fingers through his hair. praise him for working hard. really, isn’t he being too coddled?

… but it feels so nice.

satoru suspects that there’s a lot to love he might not fully understand, just yet.

maybe tomorrow, when he’s a little less tired, he can try once again to give you the impression that he’s perfect. that he doesn’t need affection, that he doesn’t crave your support or your touch. that he’s above all that, the strongest, someone for you to depend on.

depend on him, while he depends on no one. that’s the kind of existence satoru gojo is. that’s how it should be, that’s all he knows, but…

ah. it feels really nice when your nails scratch his scalp like that.

and suddenly, that’s all satoru can think. no more pesky what-ifs, or second guessing every good thing he gets. right now, it’s just you and him. your fingers in his hair, his footprints in your life.

satoru allows himself to melt under your touch, almost meekly. leaning down just a little further, to make it easier for you to smooth your hand over his head. he nuzzles into your palm with a happy little exhale, and for some reason he feels sort of bashful.

try as he might, satoru doesn’t manage to successfully shoo the emotion away, so all he can do is hope you don’t take note of it.

and you just continue your onslaught of affection, now ruffling his hair with both your hands, like he’s a big puppy getting cooed over. satoru suspects that you might be getting a little carried away, but he doesn’t stop you. greedy, in the way he wishes your hands would never leave his hair. the way he hopes you’ll never be too far away from him to reach.

”such a hard worker,” you coo, and he feels himself grow flustered. ”my baby deserves so much love.”

”woah there,” satoru chokes out, grinning, desperately hoping you don’t notice the red tint to his ears. ”are you flirting with me? i have a partner, you know.”

a giggle slips from your lips, sleepy and amused. ”oh, do you?” one of your hands goes to cup his cheek, thumb caressing the edge of his jaw as you gaze at him fondly. ”lucky them.”

the grin you’re wearing is awfully bright. soft around the edges in a way that has him speechless, brain malfunctioning ever so slightly. satoru makes a mental note to scrap the sunflower idea — there has to be some brighter flower out there, one that can actually compete with your smile. sunflowers just won’t cut it.

but then you let go, and satoru gets broken out of his lovesick stupor. when your hands leave his skin, his lips curl down into a soft pout — one he rushes to smooth away, before you can notice it.

you step back, failing to stifle a soft bout of laughter — and satoru knows it’s not because you saw the pout, when he realizes that your gaze is glued to his hair. he internally winces when he thinks about how messy it must look, after your little bout of cuteness aggression.

(you really are weird, finding him cute of all things.)

he expects you to tease him a little more, but you don’t, turning away and tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter. ”if i’d known you’d be home this late,” you speak, stealing one last glance at the pastries before closing the fridge. ”then i would’ve waited until tomorrow. so you could eat them fresh.”

an apology rests on satoru’s tongue, but as if sensing it, you rush to reassure him.

”ah, but this is fine too! they should still taste good!” you turn away, muttering. ”… hopefully.”

then you nod to yourself, crossing your arms absentmindedly.

satoru looks at you for a second.

then he steps forward, unable to resist the temptation — tapping at your wrist with the pads of his fingers, before gently curling them around it, coaxing you into turning your head towards him.

the kiss he presses to your lips is soft, delicate. his fingers trace along your jaw, cupping your cheek and tilting your face up slightly, just letting his warm lips rest against yours. sweet and chaste. he sighs into the kiss, content, and feels your pulse pick up.

then he moves down to your jaw, slow and methodical — lazy kisses, sleepy but so full of affection. and little pecks, scattered all over your lips, your cheek, the tip of your nose.

you seem to melt a little, against him, and satoru relishes in it; his ability to make you relax. far more valuable than the six eyes, he would argue.

when he pulls away from you, with what takes tremendous self-restraint, he’s smiling. his gaze meets yours, layered over with pure adoration, blue eyes crinkling as he looks at you. as if you’re his entire world. the kitchen light embraces him, cascading down the contours of his face; the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his barely noticeable dimples.

and there it is, again — that flicker of love in your eyes, that adoration. as if you’re looking at a painting, something too beautiful for words.

(satoru hopes you can see that very same adoration, reflected in his eyes as he looks at you.)

after a moment, he leans forward, to rest his jaw on the curve of your shoulder. you stumble a little under the weight, caged in as his arms hug your midriff.

”god,” he sighs, breathless, heavy with giddy disbelief. almost whining when he continues, nuzzling into your neck as if to hide. ”why are you so perfect, huh? i don’t get it.”

at that, you huff out a laugh, an amused little breath. wrapping your arms around his neck and scratching at his nape softly. satoru shudders just a little, arms tightening around you.

”stealing my line…” you mutter, accusatory, smile laced over with a honeyed affection.

another amused breath is exhaled into the air of the kitchen, this time from him. ”nah,” he grins, tugging you closer. ”’s mine.”

this is warm, he thinks. this feels right. complete, in a way that satoru never understood before you.

he could probably stand there forever, just basking in it. soaking up your body heat and the smell of your shampoo. until your warmth is all he knows, until he can never get your scent off his skin.

and satoru thinks that he could get used to this. a cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love, one that smells like spring and tastes like strawberry shortcakes and feels like tight hugs shared in kitchens.

your love makes him feel so human. and it’s scary, terrifying even, but it's also too good to pass up. it’s worth the risk. so worth everything.

a yawn leaves your lips, suddenly. satoru feels you soften in his embrace, nuzzling closer to him, stumbling just a tad. he doesn’t think it’s fair, for such a simple gesture to make him as happy as it does.

”sleepy?” he coos, smile giddy and fond. ”let’s go to bed, okay? no more sleeping on the kitchen table, silly.”

a disgruntled little huff resounds throughout the air, as you let your arms fall to your sides. ”that’s on you,” you declare, poking the plush of his chest with your finger. ”i only fell asleep because you took so long.”

a teasing glint flickers in satoru’s eyes.

”wanted to see me that badly, huh?” he coos. you roll your eyes, and he pulls your cheek. ”that’s cute.”

”so what if i did?”

satoru stills. you’re smiling, a little mischievous but mostly sincere. and it really is very unfair of you, he thinks — to do this to him while his guard is down.

but he manages to pull himself together, raising an amused eyebrow and booping your nose in a way that catches you off guard. blinking up at him, eyelashes fluttering.

satoru clears his throat. ”well, that’s sweet.”

he turns on his heel, suddenly, and strolls over to the fridge. ”but you know what’s even sweeter?” he chirps, fingers curling around the handle as he swiftly pulls it open.

satoru licks his lips, absentmindedly, eyes trailing over all the different pastries. so close yet so far, just out of reach; his fingers move forward, towards that mesmerizing slice of strawberry shortcake —

”— no.”

a hand settles on satoru’s waist, and tugs him away from his well-deserved prize. taking advantage of his momentary surprise, you close the fridge decisively, and give him an unimpressed raise of your eyebrow.

satoru whines, loud and grating. pouting sweetly, trying to make you feel bad. ”c’mon, just one bite —”

”no.”

”but they’re for me!”

”they’re for you to eat tomorrow. i was only gonna let you eat them tonight if you were on the brink of starvation, or something.”

”i am!”

”so the takeout was a lie?” you narrow your eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. ”have you been skipping meals, again?”

satoru pauses. weighing his options. ”well, no, but…”

”— then no.”

another soft whine. you turn away from him, when he tilts his head and gives you his best set of puppy dog eyes. in fear of giving in to them, satoru knows, as you have so many times before. ”please?” he tries, to no avail.

”you’re not eating sweets before bed, satoru,” you deadpan, and his smile falls further, exaggerated. ”and no, we are not having that conversation again.”

he can tell you’re trying to sound stern, but a giggle tumbles from your lips nonetheless, at the ridiculousness of the situation. keeping a grown man away from your fridge, knowing that he’ll wolf down every pastry he sees and get himself sick if you don’t. all while the man in question whines at you in protest, frowing so deeply, disappointment evident on his features.

(except satoru really isn’t very disappointed at all. like this, he gets to stare at your smile all he wants, after all. knowing you won’t notice it, too busy trying to keep yourself from giving in to his pleas.)

he tries again, one last time. just because he knows it’ll make you laugh. you do, a little exasperated, and satoru couldn’t be happier.

and he thinks to himself that if this is what love is, if this is what it’s supposed to feel like, then it can’t possibly be that much of a curse.

maybe he should revise the hypothesis, get a second opinion. he’ll have to ask you tomorrow, over pastries and coffee, and hear what you have to say.

as you both stumble to the bedroom, sleepy and a little delirious, satoru thinks that maybe this is enough; the lighthearted banter, the fond laughter. everything good and real and normal, within the space of your apartment, a home he never thought he’d have.

(and maybe, a second opinion isn’t necessary, after all. maybe it doesn’t really matter if love is a curse or not, as long as he gets to share it with you, like this.)

that night, satoru dreams. curled up with you beneath the blankets, limbs tangled together, as if he could never be close enough.

he dreams of kitchen lights, of sweet treats and warm hands. of spring breezes, and a love he’s finally beginning to accept for what it is:

good. wholly and thoroughly.

#everyone pls read this rn 🥺#like #my heart can’t even explain how unbelievably warm and comforting this was #there’s so much love i felt tingly all over 🥺#almost teared up too 🥺#i think this is an ultimate comfort fic 😭😭 op thank u so much for writing this #i loved loved loved this #jjk #satoru #soft

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yutolnukai · 3 years ago

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picnic dates

with ✧ zen , rokuta , yuto

notes ✧ i just think these boys would be lovely to go on a picnic with 🤧🥹 especially rokuta ugh hes such a sweetheart

zen

it’s rare that zen takes time off from the gang for his personal life, so this was a treat for both of you. he insisted on preparing and packing everything but you managed to persuade zen to letting you at least make the drinks.

reo and hokusai hiding in the bushes wanting to see what zen-nii was up to, satsuki is taking notes as reference for anne @_@ they think they’re being discreet, ‘be quiet !’ ‘shut up you mOnkey!’

zen held you as you sat between his legs, the both of you enjoying the scenery, chatting about your days and all the shenanigans the boys would be up to. unfortunately it ended up raining, so zen quickly picked you up princess style and ran towards the shade along with your things. the two of you snuggled up waiting for the rain to stop.

rokuta

several tupperwares filled with karaage all in one bag, which rokuta happily carried everything for you. it wasn’t even half way through the date that he finished most of the karaage that you prepared. ‘i can’t help it, the karaage that y/n made is too good.’

rokuta laid on your lap most of the time. he thinks the view is best looking up at you. plays a game of guessing cloud figures with you. ‘that one looks like itsuki-nii with his bedhead !’ ‘oh that looks like a giant karaage !’ but it’s just some random shape lol

his hands were around you the entire time, holding your waist to be closer or just your hands. rokuta gives u pecks on the cheeks cause he thinks you look adorable chewing.

yuto inukai

he managed to find time off work to go on a date with you and a picnic was what the both of you decided to do. yuto was speechless at the sight of you wearing a white sundress. <(// w //) / there were quite a number of people at the park that day but yuto found a spot relatively quiet for you.

he brought his polaroid camera so you two could take photos together to keep as memories. a few candids of each other but his favourite was the picture with you kissing his cheek. it caught him by surprise when you did it.

some old ladies that passes by commented how sweet you two were. ‘oh to be young and in love!’ this left yuto blushing as they walked away. he gives you a little kiss on the forehead before you guys pack up and head home <3

#paradox live #gaho zen #rokuta #yuto inukai #paradox live headacanon #gokuluck #akanyatsura #1nm8 #paralive headcanons #mine**

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bunnywritesmarvel · 3 years ago

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Hey sweetness this is really random(and I’m sorry I haven’t been super present I’m going to try to do better) but I’d love to buy you lingerie. If that was something you wanted to wear of course.

I could buy it for you, put it on for you, take it off for you… take Polaroids of you🤤and I keep killing myself thinking about you in different pieces from this brand Thistle and Spire. I can’t even choose a favorite I’d buy it all for you.

Do me a blessing and check out their website? I’m curious which ones you like best. I’m drooling over the idea of you in a sweater with lingerie underneath, that only I know about... Last thing, Touch by Quinton Brock made me think of you. ~E🩻

ugh i actually dont have much lingering bc im so PICKY!!!! it has to fit my aesthetic so black is my only option and im so so picky about what they look like 🤧

#bunny answers #e <3 #been thinkin' about u <333

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veenxys · 3 years ago

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Good morning our beautiful angel hope you have a lovely day as well 💛 AND THAT'S SO COOL tell me more about your dream!! - 🌺

ugh you’re soo sweet 🤧💫💖 thank you so much cutie pie!! anD OMG MY DREAM WAS LITERALLY THE BEST!1!1!

i’m going to put that readmore thing because it’s a long ass text lmao

ok ok so it’s like; i was on tiktok because one of you guys had told me that someone had done something for me - and i was kinda… 😖 because i don’t like tiktok kgdkkkgk but i went anyway, and when i saw what it was i almost cried because it was a super famous & talented artist who had made a cute video about me and shigaraki!! and the video was like; he was lying down and sad and i was calling him, then when he answered he said i could only see him if i promised to give him kisses, and then i started to smile a lot because i was already at his door and he went there , he opened the door and he had a pout on his face, but when he saw me he was all 🥹🧸💖🤏✨🤭🛼💫 and aaaa i was even more than him !! but out of nowhere he got an angry expression while he waited for me to kiss him, and i didn’t do anything (i don’t remember why lmao) and then he tried to close the door so i wouldn’t come in and got all mad and stuff like that, but i ended up kissing him and he was like extremely happy again!! then the video ended and i was almost crying because it was so beautiful but then the video had disappeared!!?1!!1 i couldn’t find it anywhere :’) so i spent a long time looking and finally i found it; then i saved the video and when i came on tumblr to talk about it i woke up. .. bUT IT WAS SO CUTE AND REAL LIKE IT WAS SHIGARAKI AND >>ME<< LIKE THE ARTIST MADE ME AND HIM AND I WAS LIKE SO VKSKVKDMVMDMG IDK IT WAS JUST SO PURE AND BEAUTIFUL AND I CAN’T STOP SMILING RN

#[🌺] — anon!#i woke up so happy today :’)))

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ca77m3anna · 1 year ago

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I’m not gonna lie, y/n was soooo relatable. I don’t usually feel that close with y/ns’ but this one??? I felt so connected with them. And fives was just so sweet the entire time🤧🤧🤧 and he was so genuine and he was trying to understand🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽 and y/n freaking out at 79’s after finding out all of that was so UGH I can’t even explain it cuz it just felt so real. Y/n feels like a real person, not just a made up person here and it’s so good. At first I was hesitant when reading this and some parts made me actually pause and take a break(the part with tup broke my heart and the fact that this whole bingo thing is so engraved in their culture now is so sad☹️) but I was still taken aback by how real these interactions were. The idea behind this was so creative and I’m gonna mention the interactions again CUZ YOU WROTE THEM SO WELL🤧 but yea this is probably one of the best fics I’ve ever read🫶🏽💙

The Last Notch

Fives x Fem!Reader

Summary: In a dystopian Star Wars universe where clones aren't just soldiers, but also pleasurable objects used to help finance the war, Fives starts to question his role in the Erotic Bingo lottery system when he meets you and discovers something more fulfilling than sex.

Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader

Characters: Fives, Jesse, Hardcase

Tags & Warnings: NSFW, 18+, dystopian!AU, implied/referenced sexual content, NO SMUT, strong sexual themes, explicit sexual language, clone sex workers, erotic bingo/lottery system, kink mentions, clone objectification, culturally-reserved reader (also read as demi-sexual), misunderstandings, angst, happy ending, POV switches between the reader and Fives

Word Count: 8.5k

Author's Note: I began this bingo card with Fives and I'm ending this bingo card with Fives. This fic has been sitting in my drafts since I first received my bingo card back in May, and I was so excited to revisit the idea. It's a little out there, and may not be everyone's cup of tea, but the underlying themes are really good and it's actually super sweet. As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Regret

The evening air is crisp and the sky is clear as you make your way home from work. It's only been two weeks since you defected from your home planet and began a life on Coruscant, so you aren't used to the planet's large size, crowded public spaces, and endless winding streets. You thought you were going the right way, but something doesn't feel right. You don't remember seeing that purple neon sign on your walk home last night, but there it is, flashing at you.

You sigh and rub your tired face. You're lost, again. However, this time, the street is darker and the walls are a little more enclosed. A bit of anxiety creeps in as you take a few wary steps forward, then hesitate when the idea of turning around crosses your mind. You're not sure what to do. There aren't any kiosk maps around, and even if you did find one, you don't know if it will help you find your way home. The only thing you do know is that you won't find it by standing still.

Thus, you continue onward, trying to remember the landmarks leading to your apartment even though every corner looks the same. It's not until you come to a four-way intersection of lengthy streets that you begin to feel real panic. Your breath quickens as you turn in a circle, looking down each path with no inclination to step towards any of them. If you can just get to higher ground, or find someone to ask directions from, you'll be able to get home, but there's no one.

"You look lost," a man says.

You startle and turn around to look at the man, but you say nothing in response.

"I can help you get home," he says.

Something in your gut rings an alarm bell, alerting you that this man has no intentions of helping you find your way. You don't know what his real intentions are, but they aren't in your best interest. You take a cautious step back, and he takes a step towards you. You just want to go home. That's all you want to do. You hate this planet, you hate your home planet, and you hate this stupid galactic war that has led you to this exact moment where you might die in the streets.

"Please," you say with a shaky voice. "Leave me alone."

"But you're lost, little one," the man tilts his head to the side and steps closer. "Don't you want to find your home?"

"I–" you stammer and take a bigger step back. "I can find my own way home, thank you."

The man chuckles. "Oh, but I don't think you can."

You want to cry. In fact, you might just break down right here in front of your would-be kidnapper because you don't know what else to do. If your feet could move, where would you run? Where would you go? You don't know where anything is, let alone a police station, and running into a Coruscant Guardsman would be a miracle at this point. Out of your brain's options of fight, flight, freeze, or fawn, your brain chooses to freeze, which is the dumbest thing it can possibly do right now.

"Please," you plead. The tears get stuck in your throat as a sob threatens to escape. "I–"

"Hey!" another man shouts from behind you.

You stiffen as you feel a firm hand rest gently on your shoulder.

"She said, get lost," the man growls.

You watch intently as the creepy man scrunches his face with indignation before he backs away and disappears into the shadows of one of the streets. You want to release a sigh of relief, but some other man you don't know is touching you, and your body hasn't ditched the freeze mode yet. You're too afraid to turn around and see who the mysterious hand belongs to, so you remain standing still, stiff as a board, hoping he'll go away, but he doesn't.

"Are you alright?" the man asks as he removes his hand and walks around into your view.

You glance up at the man speaking to you and look into his soft brown eyes. His face carries a worried expression that feels warm, and he tilts his head to the side while awaiting your answer. You study him for a moment. He's well-groomed, with short, curly dark hair, a neatly trimmed goatee, and he's wearing normal casual clothing. You're not sure if you can trust him yet, but there's something very calming about his relaxed demeanor and soothing about his deep voice.

"Yeah," you finally breathe, then swallow hard. "I think so."

"Good," he says with a crooked smile. "What're you doing out here all alone? This isn't exactly a safe area."

"I got lost," you explain. "I just moved here recently and I'm still not used to how big this place is."

"That's understandable," he says warmly. "Well, welcome to Coruscant. Where'd you move from?"

"Onderon," you say.

"Onderon?" he repeats in surprise, then takes a more rigid and guarded stance. "A Seppi planet?"

You sigh and roll your eyes. This isn't the first time you've been heckled for hailing from a Separatist planet, and it most likely won't be your last. "Just because the leaders choose to align themselves with the Separatists, doesn't mean the citizens feel the same way," you explain. "There's a reason I defected."

The man raises his eyebrows at your annoyed tone, then casts his vision towards the ground. "I didn't realize…" he pauses. "I guess I never thought about it like that."

"Not many people do," you whisper. "Judging people by where they come from is cruel."

"I'm sorry," the man says as he rubs the back of his neck. "You're right. The Republic is all I've ever known…" he pauses, "and I've never stopped to think about the civilians on the other side."

You give the man a half-smile. "Thanks."

"Hey," the man says. "Why don’t I walk you home. It’s late and I’d hate for you to run into any more trouble."

You ponder his offer for a moment. "That's very kind of you."

"It's the least I can do after sticking my foot in my mouth," he explains. "Take it as an apology."

You chuckle. "Then I accept your apology."

The man smiles and reaches out his hand. "I'm Fives."

You smile, shake his hand, and offer your name. "Nice to meet you, Fives."

When you give Fives your address, he snorts and makes a comment about you being really lost. You want to be annoyed at him, but you can't seem to muster the gumption. He's too delightful for you to be mad, so you sigh in defeat and follow him as he leads you to your apartment. Coruscant isn't so scary now that you have an escort, and a very strong looking one at that. You can't imagine anyone even thinking about approaching you with him by your side.

Fives keeps the conversation light-hearted and casual as you stroll together along the neon-lit streets. You talk about everything from your first childhood pet all the way up to where you work. It's not an extravagant job, but you work as a barista at a small caf shop that doubles as a holo-bookstore. He asks you questions about your job and why you like it, and you answer that you are a plain and simple woman. You like the quaint atmosphere the caf and holo-books provide.

An indistinguishable expression flashes across his face and you wonder if you said something wrong. You shouldn't care if he's bothered by your simplistic lifestyle or not, but you're enjoying his company. You don't have many friends on Coruscant to begin with, and you want him, at the bare minimum, to like you enough to keep in touch. You've never been good at making friends, but with him doing most of the talking, he's making it easy for you two to get to know each other.

When you finally reach your apartment, you share a moment of awkward silence in front of your door. You're not sure if you should ask him inside and offer him something for his trouble, or if you should part ways here. On Onderon, it would be disrespectful not to offer your hospitality to him after he saved your life and walked you home, but you're not sure about the customs on Coruscant. You're afraid he would mistake it as an opportunity to take advantage of you.

"Thank you for walking me home," you say.

"It was my pleasure," Fives says.

You pull out your key card. "Well, good night."

"Hey," Fives begins as he rubs the back of his neck. "I know this may be sudden, but would you like to get a drink sometime? With me?"

You turn away from the door and look at him with surprise. Of all the things you thought were going to happen tonight, this was the least expected. "Oh," you say nervously. "I appreciate the offer, but I don’t drink."

"Soda?" Fives asks quickly. "What about soda? Or water?"

You let out a small laugh. "Sure, I like soda."

"Great!" Fives exclaims. "How about tomorrow night, around 19:00?"

"Works for me," you say with a small smile. "Where are we meeting?"

"At 79’s," Fives says. "I can give you directions."

"The clone bar?" you ask in confusion.

Fives chuckles. "Well, yeah, I am a clone."

Your eyes grow wide. "You’re a clone?"

"Yeah…" Fives furrows his brows, then raises one. "You’ve never seen one before?"

"No," you say, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Well, that’s a first," Fives remarks with amusement. "You really didn’t know?"

"I’m from Onderon, remember?" you say. "We don’t exactly get clones on our planet."

"I guess that makes sense," Fives says.

"Besides," you add, "you're not wearing any armor and the only clones I've ever seen had armor and helmets on."

"That's fair, too," Fives says. "I'm on leave, so I like to relax a little and ditch the kit."

"If you don’t mind me asking," you begin. "I’m not trying to be rude, but, how will I find you at the bar? You know, since you all… look alike."

Fives laughs, tilts his head, and points at the Aurebesh tattoo on his temple. "This. This is me. Fives."

You feel a little dumb for not noticing it earlier, but you blame it on the poor lighting. "I can remember that."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow?" Fives asks.

"Yes," you answer. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Fives smiles, takes a few steps away from your door, then turns back to face you. "Good night."

You smile at him, then swipe your card to unlock your door. "Good night."

You walk into your apartment and let the door whoosh shut behind you. Releasing your held breath, you turn around, place your forehead against the cool door, and smile. It's been a while since you felt like this, and you have to admit, you're a little bit scared. Your last relationship ended because of the war, differing opinions, and your sexual preferences. It's not that you don't want to have sex, or that you don't find men attractive, but it takes you time to feel safe to do so.

It's a huge turn-off to a lot of men. Sex is the only thing that men think about when they see a woman, and there aren't many who will willingly be in a relationship with you, knowing that they'll have to wait until you're ready to even touch you sexually. Most just leave after you explain it to them, so you're not getting your hopes up that Fives will accept it either. He seems like a decent and nice man, but the thought of him rejecting you like the others has you hesitant to try again.

You sigh and back away from the door. There's no use in worrying about it now, because you'll have plenty of time to overthink it all tomorrow while you're at work. Instead, you take care of your nightly tasks like making dinner, showering, putting your most comfortable pajamas on, and snuggling under your blankets to watch your favorite holo-show. It's the one that makes you laugh and keeps your mind from thinking about the life you left behind, and the people you miss.

However, as much as you try to pay attention to the holo-show, your mind keeps wandering to Fives. You think about his smile and the way he laughed. That's what you notice about people. You don't care if they're hot, sexy, or attractive, but only if their smiles are warm, their eyes are honest, their minds are humorous, and their hearts are soft. Those are the qualities you look for in a partner. And now here you are, lying awake, wondering what else you'll learn about him.

The morning arrives soon enough, and you feel exhausted from your lack of sleep. You tossed and turned like a secondary school girl going through her first crush, but your body doesn't bounce back like it used to, and you're feeling the consequences of your choices. Nevertheless, you're giddy to get the day started and get to work. The sooner you go to work, the sooner you'll get off of work, and the sooner you'll be able to go on your date with Fives at the clone bar, 79's.

That place makes you wonder. You've heard a lot about 79's since you came to Coruscant, and not all of them are good. While living on Onderon, you didn't frequent the bar scene, but then again, Onderon bars are upscale to begin with, so you don't know if the bars on Coruscant are similar or if they are more like the bars on Tatooine that you've read about, full of cheap booze and degenerates. You consider doing a little more research beforehand, but you decide against it.

Before leaving for work, you pack a small bag with a change of clothes for your date. It's a bar, but you don't want to be too flashy if it's like Tatooine, and you don't want to look too frumpy if it's like Onderon. You think back to the way Fives was dressed when you met him, and ultimately decide to go the casual route. Not too classy and not too frumpy, just comfortable. However, you do pack your lucky earrings and small bottle of perfume so you don't smell like caf all night.

Your shift goes as expected, with your routine customers coming in for their usual orders. You love that about your job, getting to meet new people and learning all sorts of things about them. But, perhaps your favorite part of the job is offering holo-book suggestions. The shop doubles as a holo-bookstore, where patrons can drink caf and read, so the holo-book side of things is just as important as making their caf correctly. As an avid reader yourself, your suggestions are always on point.

Once your shift is over, you hang your apron up and make your way to the back to change. Your co-workers say a few remarks and ask you a couple questions about your excitement and you explain that you're meeting a man for a date at 79's. Your co-workers exchange a few surprised and knowing glances and you can't help but notice. You're unsure why they're reacting like that for just a date, but then again, you're still new to the area, so it might be a bit of missing context.

After you're dressed and happy with your hair, you make your way to 79's. This time, you are determined not to get lost, and mapped out the route ahead of time to be extra careful. If he's in the bar waiting for you, then he won't be out on the streets to find you if you get lost. You're not sure why you didn't offer to exchange comm numbers the night you met, but you blame the scary life or death situation for rattling you completely out of your mind which made you forget.

As you get closer, you notice the large, bright, orange neon sign with the 79's logo in the middle, and you're taken aback by how big the place is. The bars on Onderon, even the high-scale ones, aren't this big. Its size alone makes you feel nervous. You don't like bars to begin with, and here you are, waltzing right up to a giant one full of men that you don't even know. You begin to wonder if all of your senses left you when you agreed to this date, but you can't back down now.

The door slides open and your senses are bombarded. The smell of booze is thick in the air, the music is loud, and the bar is filled with clones. Your eyes widen and you suck in a quick breath. This was not what you were expecting, not in the slightest. You stay frozen by the door, sidestepping lazily when someone walks in after you, too afraid to go in any further. There's half-naked women, half-naked men, pole dancers, a stage, and every other kind of strip club vibe.

You whip around to leave, but bump into a clone in your haste. He only has the bottom half of his armor on, with just the black bodysuit covering his torso, except the sleeves are rolled up. The armor doesn't look like the Coruscant Guard that you're used to seeing. Instead, it has blue markings and big leather flappy-looking things that cover his thighs, with holsters and black pouches draped over them in a criss-cross. You step back in surprise but don't say anything.

"Well, hello there, sweet little thing," the clone says with a cocky smile as he looks you up and down.

You feel uncomfortable with his eyes roaming over your body, and you're glad you chose casual modesty over anything revealing, but you still want to bury yourself in a pile of blankets to keep him from staring at you like some sort of snack. The clone's resemblance to Fives is uncanny, except he's bald, with a giant GAR logo tattoo covering most of his head and face, and a five o'clock shadow. You knew they were clones, but you didn't realize they looked that much alike.

"Uh, hi," you finally muster the courage to say, trying not to let your nerves escape through your voice.

"Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before," the clone says as he steps closer to you. He gently runs a finger under a lock of your hair. "What're you into? I can show you around to all the good spots."

"I'm meeting someone," you blurt out and pull your face back to let your hair slip from his finger. "For a date."

"Oh, apologies," the clone says, and backs off his advances. "Who're you looking for? I can bring you to him."

"Fives," you say. "I'm here for Fives."

"Fives?" the clone says in surprise. "Well, aren’t you a lucky girl, to be requested by Fives."

You knit your eyebrows together in confusion. "Requested?"

The clone studies your perplexed expression for a second, then shrugs. "Never mind. Come on, I’ll bring you to him."

You nod and follow the clone through the bar, trying not to look at the debauchery happening all around you. But, you end up catching a few glimpses that make you wish you could bleach your eyes. People throwing credits at scantily clad clones twirling around poles, people doing way more than just kissing in the booths, clones taking shots from women's cleavage, lap dances that are anything but dances, and you think you saw someone having actual sex. It's a nightmare.

Finally, you see Fives, sitting in one of the booths. You recognize his goatee and the Aurebesh tattoo on his temple. Although, at this point, you're not sure what to say to him, since you've been hurled so far out of your comfort zone you may never recover. Nevertheless, you smile at him and he smiles back at you, gesturing with his hand for you to sit down. You take a seat across from him in the booth, but squirm when you think of what you saw people doing in these booths.

The clone that escorted you leans over the back of your booth, cages your head with his hands, then smirks at Fives. "Trying something new tonight?"

You jump.

"Get lost, Jesse," Fives growls.

Jesse straightens up, raises his hands in defense, and walks away.

"Don’t mind him," Fives says. "He's harmless."

"He seems…" your voice is shaky, "nice."

"Do you want something to drink?" Fives asks, changing the subject. "They’ve got an assortment of non-alcoholic beverages."

"Sure," you say. "I’ll just have the soda."

"Got it," Fives says as he gets up from the booth. "I’ll be right back."

You sit alone in the booth and contemplate your life choices that led you to this moment. You're not sure how you, a respectful young Onderon lady, ended up in a vulgar place like this. 79's is nothing like the bars on your home world, and you're very disappointed. What does this mean about Fives? Is he into this lifestyle? Or does he come here just because he's a clone and it's a bar meant for clones? Maybe you're overthinking it and he likes caf and holo-books just like you do.

"So," a clone says as he slides into the booth to fill the empty spot left by Fives. "You’re Fives’ special hook-up, yeah?"

"I beg your pardon?" you huff. "This is a date, not some sleazy hook-up."

It's another bald clone, but this one has blue lines tattooed on his face, no five o'clock shadow, and no armor, at all. He looks like he just came down from the poles and you really didn't want to see that tonight. You're beginning to wonder if the bald clones are the weird ones and the clones with hair are the normal ones, because out of the three you've met so far, Fives is the only one who seems to be somewhat ordinary, and also the only one with a full head of hair.

"Jesse told me otherwise," the clone says, disregarding your earlier remarks. "So, how’d you worm your way into that spot?"

"Spot?" you repeat in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Seriously?" the clone says with a quirk of his brows. "You do know who Fives is, right? One of the top ten clone names in Erotic Bingo? Master of every position humanly possible? He’s only got the longest line of people waiting to scan him on their bingo cards. So how’d you cut the line?"

"Erotic…" you're stunned, mouth gaping and eyes wide. "What?"

"Come on," the clone says. "Erotic Bingo? The lotto system? You know, where you can win credits by having sex with clones? Do you live under a rock or something?"

You feel sick. The room begins to spin as all of the words this clone has spoken to you swirl around in your mind, setting off every klaxon in response, shouting at you to leave this place immediately. You've been duped. You've been lied to. Your image of Fives and his soft, sweet smile shatters into a million pieces. You feel stupid, like you should've known it was too good to be true. Sex. It's a drug, and they're all addicted to it. That's all you are to him, a sexual object.

Fives comes back from the bar with your soda and a Corellian ale for himself, and frowns when he sees the clone sitting across from you. "Hardcase," Fives says with a warning in his voice. "That's my seat."

Hardcase smirks, and slides himself out of the booth. "Whoops," he says. "Guess I mistook her for someone else. She's all yours."

Fives rolls his eyes and gives Hardcase a whack with his shoulder to get a move on, then sets down the drinks before sliding himself back into the booth. He smiles and grabs his ale, lifting it to toast with you, but his smile slowly dissipates when he sees your panicked expression.

"Are you okay?" Fives asks. "Did Hardcase say something to you? I'm sorry. He really can't control himself half the time."

"I…" you stutter, trying to find the words in your parched throat. "I have to go."

"Go?" Fives asks in confusion. "Go where? You just got here."

"Home," you answer as you try to hold back your tears.

"I don’t understand," Fives says. "What's wrong?"

"This," you say. "All of this."

Fives shakes his head, bewildered by your words, unsure of what to say.

"You're just like everyone else," you say as you get up from the booth. "All you men ever want is sex. You think women are cheap and gullible, and will rollover for you in bed. Well guess what, Fives. I’m not cheap, I’m not easy, and I’m not going to be another notch in your bedpost!"

"What…" Fives' jaw slacks. He scrambles to get up from the booth to go after you. "Hey, wait! Please, let me explain!"

"Just stay away from me!" you turn around and shout, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. "This was a mistake… You're a mistake."

Fives sighs as he watches you leave. That last remark hurt, but at this point he thinks he probably deserves it. The one time he actually wants a relationship, he botches it up four ways to Benduday. He pinches the bridge of his nose and rubs his forehead before making his way back to the booth. He sits down and slinks back so his feet can touch the opposite side, and watches the condensation slip down the side of your glass of soda, the ice clinking as it melts.

"Ouch," Hardcase says as he leans over the back of Fives' booth. "That was painful to watch."

"This is your fault," Fives says without turning around to look at him.

"I'm not the one that invited that kinda girl to this kinda place," Hardcase says, before pushing himself off the booth and turning around. "And they say, I'm the dumb one."

Fives groans, even though he knows Hardcase is right.

He's not sure what he was thinking when he invited you to 79's after you said you don't drink alcohol and you like quiet atmospheres. Everything that 79's is not. Perhaps it was out of a sense of familiarity. Then, to top it all off, you got the wrong impression about the date, but he can't blame you for coming to that conclusion when he's the one who invited you to a borderline whore-house of a bar. The more he thinks about it the more he realizes why you were so upset.

Fives fiddles with his Corellian ale, aimlessly twirling the base of the glass bottle against the table. As he takes a sip, Jesse slides in across from him.

"What do you want?" Fives asks.

"I take it your hook-up didn’t work out," Jesse muses as he takes a sip from his own beverage.

"It wasn’t a hook-up," Fives says.

"Sorry," Jesse waves with his hand sarcastically. "I meant your special hook-up."

"It wasn't a hook-up," Fives repeats, the irritation in his voice growing.

"What?" Jesse asks. "You were on a date or something? That’s cute."

Fives huffs. "What if I was?"

"Then I’d ask what you did with the real Fives," Jesse laughs.

"Don’t you ever get tired of it?" Fives asks. "The Erotic Bingo? Meaningless sex?"

"Nope,” Jesse says and takes another swig. "We’re toys. Toy soldiers for the GAR and sex toys for everyone else. Novelties. Created to be used, abused, and thrown away."

"That’s rather grim," Fives says.

"It’s our reality," Jesse retorts. "What did you think you were going to do? Date, settle down, have kids, and live a normal life?"

"I could try," Fives says.

Jesse snorts. “In ten years time, you’ll be old enough to be her father. How gross is that?”

Fives grunts.

"Listen," Jesse says as he puts his drink down and gets serious. "I wish it was different. Maker, I wish it was, but it’s not. This is the life of a clone. We’re only in our prime for a short time, so we have to do what we can before we're old and flaccid."

Fives sighs. "I get that, but–"

"Don’t think about it too much," Jesse interjects. "You’ll just make yourself depressed."

"Hey, you know what?" Jesse says. "There's a woman at the bar that needs to cross off "Dueling Arcs" on her card. You in? Might help you forget about your date."

"Not interested," Fives says dryly. "Echo's somewhere around here. I'm sure he'll do it with you."

Jesse chuckles. "That chick’s got you by the balls, huh?"

"Piss off," Fives sneers.

"Suit yourself," Jesse shrugs. "Careful though, I'd hate to take your place in the Top Ten Most Erotic Clones."

Fives rolls his eyes. He used to enjoy that title, now all it does is remind him of what he can't have, you. The Erotic Bingo lottery system was created soon after the war began. Apparently, the clones gained a cult following after civilians began to figure out that clones were attractive. The senate and the GAR realized they could bank on this new found interest, and created an Erotic Bingo lottery-type game that would benefit the clones, civilians, and the GAR's funds.

The Erotic Bingo game is pretty simple. People all over Coruscant can purchase the bingo cards at any lottery kiosk on the planet. The bingo cards have a range of prices that correspond to the difficulty of making multiple bingos or getting a blackout. The cards are labeled from 'D' tier being the easiest and cheapest, in terms of purchase and payout, to 'S' tier being the hardest and most expensive. The more bingos made and the more expensive the card, the better the payout.

The Erotic Bingo cards have a wide range of sexual activities from tame vanilla intercourse, mutual masturbation, and oral sex, all the way up to the most degrading and disgusting kinky sex imaginable. Usually, only the 'S' tier cards contain the extreme activities, but on occasion, an 'A' tier card will have one or two. Some common squares are: "sex with a shiny", "dueling arcs", "suck a sergeant", "commander facial", "69 at 79s", "barcs and arfs", and "medic masturbation".

The clones don't get much of a choice in the Erotic Bingo game. They can refuse an offer to fulfill a square, but most don't. It's the only way a clone is allowed to make any credits. When a clone scans their identichip into the bingo card, they automatically receive their kick-back as a direct deposit when the bingo card is returned. If a bingo was not achieved, then there's no kick-back. So, in reality, it's in a clone's best interest to fulfill as many squares as possible.

Many of the battalions have fully leaned into the Erotic Bingo game, making it a part of their culture. The 212th basically runs a gentlemen's club. They don't perform a lot of 'S' acts, but they do get a lot of repeat customers. The 104th is all about the animalistic kinks, like breeding. They call it the "Wolffe Den'' and it's exactly what it sounds like. Then there's the Coruscant Guard and their "Dungeon". For those interested in whips and bondage, that's the place to be.

The 501st, on the other hand, doesn't have a particular theme, but dabbles in a little bit of everything. A person can rarely find an unwilling participant in the 501st, but any square dealing with a commander has to go somewhere else, considering Rex is a captain. It's the only type of squares the 501st can't do. The Jedi disapprove of the entire system, and refuse to take part in any of it, but they didn't have a say in the system's creation and neither did the clones.

The GAR even built a hierarchy system of the "Top Ten Most Erotic Clones," which is where Fives landed himself after filling out countless bingo cards. And as Hardcase pointed out previously, he has a waiting list a mile long. For shinies, it's a right of passage to scan their names on a bingo card, but for higher ranking, popular clones, it becomes a full time job when they're on leave. It fills their every waking moment, and at least for Fives, it's dulled his libido.

Fives began to question the whole Erotic Bingo lottery system after he saw Tup come back to the barracks late one night, crawl into his bunk, and refuse to speak to anyone for days. Only Kix knew what happened and Fives never asked. Sometimes, attractive young clones get pulled aside to fulfill Erotic Bingo cards for the upper echelons of Coruscant, like senators. Tup ended up in that category, and Fives wasn't surprised at Tup's reaction, since senators buy the 'S' tier cards.

He doesn't want to do it anymore. He's tired of the meaningless, trivial, and almost chore-like sex, with not a single emotional bond ever created in the process. Everyone, literally, comes and leaves, like he's an object they can use to get themselves off, then either toss him out or come back to reuse him again. He's a walking dildo without a vibrate feature. And yet, the game is so ingrained in the clone culture, that backing out is considered taboo and he could be shunned.

After he met you, he wanted to be done with it. All of it. The sex, the Erotic Bingo game, the credits, the titles. He was ready to throw it all away just to have someone like you in his life. Someone kind, sweet, endearing, and funny. There was an actual spark when he talked to you. His heart fluttered and his body felt things it hadn't felt in so long. He just wanted to get to know you, but he screwed it up, and you left 79's hating him. He wants a second chance and to try again.

Fives downs the rest of his Corellian ale and grimaces at its disgusting warmth, but why waste the credits. He places the empty bottle on the table and decides to head back to the barracks to turn in early. There's nothing left for him to do at 79's tonight, so there's no point in staying. He glances at the bar on his way out and sees that Jesse found Echo. He wishes he could cheer them on at their endeavor, but he can't. Watching them only tightens the knot in his stomach.

Back at the barracks, he lies down on his bunk and thinks about how he's going to approach you again. However, his thoughts keep being interrupted by the sounds of breathy grunting from several of the bunks. Normally, he would zone it out, or maybe start masturbating to it, but not tonight. The only thing on his mind right now is you, and somehow touching himself to the image of you in his mind seems wrong after what happened. So, he is forced to listen until they finish.

Regardless of what is going on around him, he's still thinking about you. He runs all of the events through his mind, over and over again, trying to figure out why he didn't ask you out on a date somewhere else. Even an old diner would have been better than 79's. All of the signs were there that you would be repulsed by his sex-working lifestyle, but he chose to ignore them, and he doesn't know why. Maybe he was anxious and wanted the safety net of 79's to calm his nerves.

Fives groans and rolls onto his stomach, squishing his face into his pillow. Overthinking this is doing absolutely nothing to help him, and neither are the erotic sounds echoing throughout the barracks. He pulls the pillow out from under his face and presses it over his ears, trying to muffle the sounds so he can think properly without his dick getting in the way. Finally, he realizes that all he has to do is undo the misunderstanding and he should be able to win you back, hopefully.

You wake up this morning feeling worse than you did the morning before your date with Fives. With all of the crying you did last night, your face is all red and puffy. You try splashing some cold water on it, but it doesn't do you much good. Perhaps a bit of make-up can mask your broken heart. Although, you're not sure what you're so upset about. You've only known the man for barely two rotations and you're crying over him like you've been together for years.

There's no use wallowing in your own sorrow, so you do what you always do when life discourages you. You put your big girl panties on and go to work. At least your customers will be a good distraction for you. They won't try to have sex with you. Besides, it's only your third week on Coruscant, and there are plenty more men where he came from. Then again, if all the clones are in on the erotic-bingo-whatever-thing, then maybe there aren't as many fish in the sea as you hope.

Either way, you're sure you'll find someone to love you for who you are, and not just for your anatomy. But you can't shake the disappointment that you wish it was Fives. He checked all of your boxes and you really wanted it to be him. Even after you stormed out of 79's, all you could see when you closed your eyes was his smile. It was genuine. You quickly shake the thoughts away before you start going down the rabbit hole. You saw who he was, and that's the end of it.

Just as you predicted, your mind is in a better place when you start working. Your regular customers come in and get the same orders as they usually do, and you chat with them while you make their specialty drinks. They ask you how you are doing, and you give them a generic answer so that they won't pester you. You would rather talk about them right now, and not yourself. Keeping your mind occupied with others helps you stay focused on the task at hand.

However, you nearly drop the latte you're holding when you see a clone standing outside the large transparisteel storefront. Your heart starts racing, but you tell yourself it's just a coincidence. There are millions of clones on Coruscant. It could be anyone. You watch him out of the corner of your eye when he enters the shop, and that's when you see his goatee and the Aurebesh tattoo on his temple. You take a deep breath as he approaches the ordering counter.

"What are you doing here?" you ask while crossing your arms.

"A cup of caf and a credit for your time?" Fives asks as he puts a few credits down on the counter.

"I'm not a stripper," you huff. "I can't be bought."

"I know," Fives sighs. "And that's not what this is."

"Then what do you want?" you ask.

"To have a cup of caf and talk," Fives says. "That's it. I promise."

You roll your eyes and swipe the credits off the counter, then pour two mugs of regular hot caf. You call back to your supervisor to let them know that you're going on break, then pull your apron over your head and hang it up. You pick up the two mugs and signal Fives to follow you to one of the corner tables, then set the mugs of caf down opposite each other. You pull out one of the chairs and sit, then cross your legs, lean back, and fold your arms over your chest.

"You've got fifteen minutes," you say.

"I'm sorry," Fives begins. "For what happened at 79's."

"You lied to me," you accuse.

"That's not true," Fives says calmly. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"What other idea was there?" you ask. "You had me meet you at a strip club where I got bombarded by half-naked clones asking me how I made it on your 'hit list' for Erotic Bingo. What did you think I was going to think?"

"I… I don't know," Fives grimaces and glances away. "I just…" he pauses. "I just wanted to talk and get to know you. I swear. There was nothing else."

You lean forward, set your elbows on the table, and place your chin over your clasped fingers. "There's always something else," you say. "It's all you men ever want. All you care about is sex and I don't want it."

"I don't want it either!" Fives exclaims, then hushes himself when he remembers he's in a public place. "I don't."

"They all say that in the beginning," you huff. "Then they get you all emotionally attached and try to force you to do what they want. Well, I don't buy it for one standard second."

Fives sighs and smooths his index finger around the rim of his mug. "You know, I thought you would be different."

You furrow your brows at his words.

"You talked about not judging people based on where they came from," Fives explains. "Well, I didn't get a choice in being created, or being a soldier, or being a kriffing pleasure object. You get to leave your past behind and make a new life, but mine has to stay with me, right?"

"Fives…" you say.

He's right. You're judging him the same way he judged you when you told him you were from Onderon. It's true, the clones didn't have a choice in where they came from as much as you didn't have a choice in where you came from. He's throwing your own hypocrisy back into your face and you're mortified. The roles are reversed. You both thought of each other as different from the rest; what you were searching for, but ignorance and misjudgment clouded it.

Fives sighs and gets up from the table. "I guess we both lied."

"Wait, Fives," you say to try and stop him. You get up from the table and reach out to grab his arm, but you pull your hand back before making contact.

"Thanks for the caf," Fives says, then walks out the door.

You slump back down into the chair, mouth gaping in shock, feeling dazed by the whiplash you just endured. Regret washes over you and you can't believe what just happened. He came all this way, to your comfort zone, to try and apologize and explain himself, but you refused to hear it. You could kick yourself for the awful way you acted towards him. He was wrong about you and you were wrong about him. It was all just a giant misunderstanding. Maker, you're an idiot.

You scramble out of your chair and race towards the door, pushing it open and looking down the street towards where he went. You can still see him, casually walking further away. You can't let him go, not yet. You can still fix this. Everything can still be salvaged. You only need to apologize and start over. It's so simple, yet why didn't you realize sooner? You run down the street, trying to catch up with him. It might already be too late, but you have to try. You have to.

"Fives!" you yell as you get closer.

Fives turns around and his eyes widen in surprise.

"Wait!" you yell, finally closing the distance. You stop in front of him and pant at the exertion. "I'm sorry. You were right. I judged you before I even got to know you. I'm so sorry." Tears start rolling down your face.

"Hey, it's okay," Fives says, and he chances to wipe away one of your tears. "Don't cry. Please?"

"It's just… so hard," you say in between sniffles. "I'm so far away from home. I barely know anyone. The planet is so big and I'm so small."

"Shhh," Fives soothes. "It's okay. Sit here." Fives ushers you to sit down on the sidewalk against the wall, and he sits down next to you and listens.

"I just… I wanted a friend," you cry into your knees. "I wanted you to be my friend, and then all the sex stuff scared me, because it's not who I am. I don't care about it. I don't want it. I don't need it. I've had people leave me over it."

Fives sits silently next to you and waits for you to finish.

"I'm sorry," you say as you wipe your face with your sleeve. "I don't know what came over me, and I feel so stupid for crying after everything I said."

"Apology accepted," Fives says. "And you're not stupid."

You sigh. "One of us has to be."

"Then it's probably me," Fives admits.

"Can we both be stupid?" you ask with a small laugh.

"Sure," Fives smiles. "Hi stupid, I'm Fives."

You burst out laughing, and all of a sudden, every fear and reservation you have about Fives melts away. He really is just a nice guy that did the best he could with the hand that he was dealt, just like you did. It's amazing how two complete strangers, from different corners of the galaxy can somehow meet by chance and click together like puzzle pieces. Your heart feels warm and full of life, and you can't help but smile at the way he makes you feel; complete.

"You know," Fives says as he taps his knee. "I'd love to be your friend, and ditch the Erotic Bingo game while I'm at it."

"Really?" you ask, hope brimming in your tear-stained eyes.

"Really," Fives says with a smile. "I want connection, and the bingo game can't give me that, but you can."

"What about sex?" you ask. "I can't promise you that I'll ever want it."

Fives chuckles. "I've had enough sex to last me four life-times. Trust me. I can go without it."

"Are you sure?" you ask.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Fives says. "Just let me know what's okay, and what's not, and we'll go from there."

You smile and lay your head against Fives' shoulder. "This is okay."

Fives smiles and lays his head atop yours. "Okay."

Soon after you agreed to be friends, Fives did indeed ditch the Erotic Bingo game, much to his brother's displeasure. He wasn't completely shunned out of the culture, especially by his own battalion, but there were plenty of clones that disagreed with his choice and they weren't afraid to show it. Fives was strong though, and he suffered through it like a champ, even convincing a few of his closest brothers to ditch the game as well and seek out more meaningful connections.

Now, it's been a year since your fateful encounter with Fives and both of you have thrived. Your friendship quickly bloomed into a beautiful partnership. Without an ability to make any income, you helped support Fives' needs with your own job. It became easier once you were promoted to shift manager and began earning more credits. The extra credits also afforded you to find a bigger apartment, so that Fives could move in with you. It's been a lot of fun having a roommate.

When he's not off-world fighting the Republic's war, he's home with you, relaxing on the couch and watching holo-movies with you. Sometimes, you'll start a holo-series, then he'll get an assignment and have to leave. He'll beg you on his hands and knees not to watch it without you, and you don't, most of the time. Other times you'll start a pillow fight, or make brownies, or just talk and laugh at stupid jokes until your sides hurt and tears start rolling down your cheeks.

You can't believe that in such a short time, Fives has become the center of your world. He's your best friend, and he's never once asked you for sex or kisses or touches or anything else that you weren't ready for. He's completely content with what he already has with you and always waits until you initiate an act first. Even then, he will ask you a few more times before reciprocating, just to be sure it's what you want and not something you feel pressured into.

Today it's early evening, and you both just finished a delicious dinner that you made together. You're working on putting the leftovers away in the conservator and Fives is standing in front of the sink washing the dishes. You stop what you're doing for a moment and watch him. You're not sure when you finally fell in love with him, but you know you are; it's unmistakable. You walk up behind him, wrap your arms around his middle, and press yourself tight against his back.

Fives smiles at the warm gesture, but keeps scrubbing the plate in his hand with the sponge.

"Fives?" you ask.

"Mhm?" Fives hums.

"I think I'm ready," you say.

"Ready for what?" Fives asks.

"To make love," you say.

Fives stops scrubbing the plate. "You think?" he asks over his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

You stand on the tips of your toes and place a soft kiss at the nape of his neck, just at the base of his hairline. This is the first time you've kissed him and you can tell it's having an effect. A few of the hairs stand on end after you remove your lips and it makes you smile. He probably wasn't expecting it, and to be honest, neither were you. But the way he was standing there, doing the dishes, stirred something in you that you've never felt before. You nuzzle your face into his back.

"I trust you," you whisper against his shirt. "With all of my heart."

Fives places the dish down in the sink with the sponge resting on top, and dries his hands with the dish towel. He turns around to look at you, studying your face to make sure there are no hints of reservation or anything that would raise a red flag that you are feeling pressured to say this. Sensing nothing, he wraps his arms around your back and pulls you gently against him, barely allowing your bodies to touch, then tilts your chin up to lovingly stare into your soft eyes.

"Cyare, are you sure?" he asks again. "I don't want it if you don't want it."

"I want it," you insist. "I want… I want to be the last notch in your bedpost."

Fives smiles and kisses your forehead. "It's reserved just for you."

Masterlist

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