#I decided to go all in to see just how she Would look with a bowtie and the answer is cute! I for one am shocked

[landoughnut]

Puppy Plans - CL16

masterlist - request

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: leo somehow escaped charles' apartment in monaco, and when a girl who lives nearby finds him, charles decides he needs to know you

w/c & a/n: smau | send in ideas for charles I beg 😩

yourusername

liked by friend1, bestfriend, friend2, user1, and 896 others yourusername I found this cute puppy in my yard, I'm going to kidnap him 🎀

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friend1 HELP ME

bestfriend GIRL YOU CAN'T KIDNAP A DOG 😭

yourusername if it's cute then yes I can

friend2 girl that is definitely someone's dog... maybe you should go knock on doors 🙂

yourusername but hes happy here eating a pup cup 🤧

friend2 yourusername what if his owner sues you

yourusername friend2 I'd win in court for animal abandonment 💪

friend3 AWH HE LOOKS SO SOFTTTT ♥︎ by author

yourusername update: I'm going to return him, he ate my favorite pair of shoes 😔

friend4 NOOOO I NEED TO MEET HIM FIRST

yourusername friend3 BUT HES A MENACE

friend4 yourusername ... a cute one 🥹 ♥︎ by author

user1 I'm getting puppy fever omg

user2 am I tripping or is that leo leclerc

user3 I WAS THINKING THAT

yourusername who is leo 🥸

user3 yourusername GIRL??? charles leclercs puppy....

yourusername user3 you say that like I'm supposed to know who that is

bestfriend user3 excuse her... she lives under a rock

yourusername oh I looked him up and he's so fine holy 😍 

bestfriend charles_leclerc

friend1 charles_leclerc

friend3 charles_leclerc

user2 charles_leclerc

user5 charles_leclerc

arthur_leclerc charles_leclerc

friend4 ARTHUR???

yourusername OH MY GOSH YALL SHUT UPPPPP

charles_leclerc yourusername I see leo's in good hands 😉

yourusername I'm going to kill myself.

yourusername charles_leclerc HOW DO I KNOW YOU'RE NOT LYING ABOUT HIM BEING YOURS

charles_leclerc yourusername why would I lie about this 🤨

charles_leclerc why am I arguing over my dog yourusername dm me so I can pick him up please 🙏

yourusername charles_leclerc fine...

user6 WHY ARE WE SO CASUAL ABOUT CHARLES LECLERC BEING IN YOUR COMMENTS???!!!??!

yourusername Idk man I live in monaco so I suppose this isn't that crazy

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, lando, carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc, and 1,952,170 others charles_leclerc reunited 💪🐾

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bestfriend yourusername BROOO WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU MET UP ?!?!?!?!?!?!??!

yourusername IM SORRY ILL TELL YOU LATER

arthur_leclerc yourusername  can I gossip with you guys too 🥰 charles keeps going on about you and it's getting annoying

charles_leclerc arthur_leclerc WHY ARE YOU TELLING THEM THAT ⁉️

carlossainz55 hermano do you have a crush? 😏

charles_leclerc MON DIEU NO ‼️

carlossainz55 charles_leclerc it's okay to admit it, talking about feelings is important 🙂‍↕️

charles_leclerc carlossainz55 PLEASE ENOUGH THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING

lando why are we making fun of charles

lando can I join

arthur_leclerc lando leo escaped his apartment and ended up at some girls place who lives near by and he found her through insta and then they met up to return leo and now charles is obsessed with her

charles_leclerc pass me the gun.

yourusername charles_leclerc so you think I'm pretty 😍 I like my men obsessed

charles_leclerc yourusername whattttt haha who said that 😅

lando charles_leclerc and yourusername sitting in a tree, k i s s i n g

charles_leclerc oh my gosh.

lando first comes love, then comes marriage

charles_leclerc lando die.

lando then comes the baby in a baby carriage

carlossainz55 UNBLOCK ME PLEASE ITS LANDO IM SORRY

yourusername justice for lando ✊

carlossainz55 yourusername thank you. I like you

charles_leclerc carlossainz55 just for that you are staying blocked 🥰

carlossainz55 charles_leclerc NOOOO IM SORRY

user7 dang this was chaotic af

user8 charles made himself look extra good for this post to impress a certain someone 😏

user9 he doesn't have to even try though

yourusername user9 exactly

arthur_leclerc yourusername now hes blushing

charles_leclerc arthur_leclerc LEAVE ME ALONE

yourusername I'm not doing anything tomorrow 😊 in case you want to do something

charles_leclerc YES PLEASE

charles_leclerc I mean, yeah sure

georgerussell63 🍿🍿

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc, f1, and 2,873,611 others charles_leclerc merci beaucoup leo ❤️

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yourusername 💗 ♥︎ by author

charles_leclerc ❤️

carlossainz55 congrats hermano 🥳 ♥︎ by author

lando YAY IM BACKKKKK

lando 🙂

user10 why are you being so dry

lando user10 im scared to say anything cause he will block me again

charles_leclerc lando im glad you're intimidated

arthur_leclerc YAYY A NEW BESTIE

yourusername you know it 😎

charles_leclerc shoo.

scuderiaferrari bella coppia ♥︎ by author

yourusername grazie mille 🫶

lewishamilton now we just need leo and roscoe to meet 🐶 ♥︎ by author

maxverstappen1 why is she with you

charles_leclerc because I'm just, well, better 😈

georgerussell63 carmen wants me to pass on the message that she's dying to meet your girlfriend

yourusername YESSSSS I'LL COME TO MERCEDES NEXT RACE

mercedesamg yourusername oh yeahhhh 😎

scuderiaferrari mercedesamg back tf off 😤 she's ours 😒

yourusername wow I've never felt so wanted 🥹 #teammclaren

mclaren yourusername HELL YEAHHHH PAPAYA FOR THE WIN

charles_leclerc yourusername MON AMOUR??? HOW DARE YOU 😨

yourusername charles_leclerc sorry love, I've been learning about f1 and so the only thing on my feed is videos of people making fun of ferrari's strategies

scuderiaferrari yourusername next year will be our year 🥲

bestfriend REMEMBER I HAD HER FIRST 😒

charles_leclerc well I have her now so 🫵🏼😂

yourusername ladies ladies there's enough of me to go around

charles_leclerc yourusername im not sharing though 🤺

oscarpiastri so like... what did I miss...

oscarpiastri MY DAD HAS A GIRLFRIEND NOW????

[moon-fics]

Pool Day

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader

Summary: The team decided to request a pool, not thinking it would be made. Now, they have a pool.

A/n: Ugh! I love a good beach/pool episode! But this time, the relationship is established.

When Valentina asked if there was anything the team wanted in the tower, she meant like a training simulator or a chef. So, when Yelena spoke up, saying she wanted a pool, everyone backed her up. No one expected Valentina to actually go through with it because she didn't like them.

So, when Valentine announced the pool was done, everyone was flabbergasted. They were most astonished by the fact that she built it outside where the sun could be enjoyed. However, she said that was the last unnecessary request she'd be entertaining.

Of course, when the first day of summer rolled around, the pool was not forgotten.

---

You sit at the edge of the pool with your legs under the water. You're thankful you had time to buy a new swimsuit. It wasn't the best one you could find, but it'll do.

Yelena has found interest in sleeping on one of the floats. She's knocked out as the float hits one of the walls of the pool. Meanwhile, John is in the shallow area drinking a fruity smoothie. For the most part, everyone is relaxing for the first time in a while.

You sense a presence behind you and immediately turn. You're far too late, as two pairs of hands shove you into the chilly water. Your entire body is submerged, and water enters your nose. You pop out of the water, coughing and wiping your nose.

When you finally look up, you see Alexei and Bob standing where you were sitting. Alexei is hands on knees laughing and pointing at you as if he's pulled off a master prank.

"Is the water nice?" Bob asks. He holds out his hand for you to take. Even after shoving you into the pool, he's still kind enough to pull you back out. You should just take his hand and be thankful for the refreshing dunk. You aren't that type of person.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know?" You grip his forearm and yank as hard as possible. He doesn't take a lot of effort to pull. The splash from his fall wakes up Yelena, who lifts her sunglasses as Bob pops up from the water.

"'Ey, I don't want any rough housing," She points at you and Bob with a raised eyebrow. "Don't wake me again," She warns and puts her sunglasses back on.

The moment Yelena is back to resting, Bob's arms wrap around your waist. His head rests on top of yours, and water drips from his chin to your nose. He creates a sort of shade over your face to block out the sun.

"I could get used to this," You keep your voice down. Bob hums in response. He sways both of you carefully while he enjoys the closeness. "Did you swim a lot in Florida?"

"Oh yeah, like, every day." He nods without hitting your head. He relinquishes his hold on you and spins you around to face him. "It was either the pool or the beach. I preferred the beach because when the wind is strong enough, the waves get super high."

"That sounds fun," You say. "We should have asked for a wave pool, too." You laugh. Maybe you can suggest it to Valentina as a way to train for water-based threats. Though you doubt she'd accept that answer.

"The last time I was in a wave pool, I got kicked in the head three times," Bob chuckles. His hands move to rest on your waist to keep you near him. "I'm pretty sure they should be banned for how dangerous they are." His face becomes serious as he thinks.

"Oh, you can't handle some waves?" You tease. You already have something in mind and begin floating away from him. His brows furrow, and he watches you get a few feet away. You wind up your arm and roughly glide it across the surface to create a small wave.

It drenches Bob once again, but once the splash clears, he's gone. Before you can react, his hands are on your legs. He efficiently drags you under, but cradles your head before it hits the floor.

You open your eyes, but the water makes everything blurry. All you can see is Bob's outline as it gets closer. His hands cup your face, and his lips press against yours as gently as possible. The kiss only lasts a few seconds due to a lack of air, but those seconds are like a treasure. His lips are all you can feel as your senses are blocked by the water.

When you emerge, you gasp for air, but he doesn't. You chalk it up to him having more experience in bodies of water than you.

Once you catch your breath, he calls your name. You look towards him only to be hit in the face by water. He forgets how strong he is and gets Yelena and John wet.

"Oh, come on!" John groans. He holds up his half drank smoothie that now has chlorine water in it.

"Ok, that's it! No more pool for you two!" Yelena shouts.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

(this is gonna be so so so very long because i think reading this truly changed the trajectory of my life. you have been forewarned. pls read this masterpiece i beg of u)

holy. mother of matrimony. i — i have no words. currently on my flight to korea as i type and i thank my past self from 10 hours ago who decided to leave my tumblr app open on this fic before i lose connection so i could read this on my flight and . wow . i don’t think i’ve felt this way about a fic in a whileeeeeeee. your writing style is so so so beautifully painful, in a devastating way that makes me wish this was a book in a series i could purchase and read over and over and over again. i absolutely love how you wrote yn despite how insane is actually is (which we now know she really isnt insane, just grew up under circumstances and was wildly misunderstood). but oh my god the ending????? was so intense??? and not just that, but every intimate scene with sunghoon wanted to make me cry from emotional tension AND from how HOT IT WAS LMAOO. when she finally lets sunghoon in and realizes her true feelings and vulnerability, i think i actually wanted to shed tears right here and now in my lil economy flight seat oh my god.

“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.”

IM GONNA SCREAM LIKE WHAT????? THIS IS INSANE I DONT THINK U UNDERSTAND HOW THIS QUOTE MADE ME FEEL ???? oh my god im gonna cry all over again

"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.*

WHAT THE ACRUAL FUCK😭😭😭😭NO BECAUSE THIS?? the way this fic started with yn wanting to strip hoon of his purity and ruin him but ir ended up being THE OPPOSITE ??? and he SHOWS HER AND SHES GOOD !!!!! and she BELIEVES IT !!! SHES ALLOWS HERSELF TO BELIEVE IT AND TO BE CHANGEDDDD UR HONOORRRRR i rest my case oh my god

"I hate you. I fucking hate you," you whisper harshly, looking up at him with tear filled eyes.

"I love you too," he whispers back.

MY JAW literally dropped at this. like this trope/line is one of those cliche ones but something about how you executed this???? was so amazingly beautifully done. if i wasnt in a plane rn i would stand up and applaud u fr this ENTIRE scene was perfection from start to finish. the vulnerability? the realization? the rawness? holy shit i think it added five years to my life.

AND THEN THE ENDING !!

"Harvest all of my purity, farmer's daughter."

man i don’t even have the words anymore. im just gonna leave it at that. thank you for this beautiful work of art. gonna go back to this whenever i wanna feel something.

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

[nadvs]

OMG power play is one of my fav series .. like im sad its over but i was wondering if you can do rafe and reader seeing each other again after being apart for a while yk , maybe he surprises her or she surprises him idk (smut?) but ugh i love them n you ty babes😛

aw thank you ily!! this is so cute and omg the smut potential!! it’s another filthy one, y’all 👀 blurb set in the power play au. 18+!

You were tempted the entire three-hour drive over to give in and call Rafe and just tell him that you’d be at his house tonight.

As you step into the Camerons’ backyard, the summer sky a deep black against the twinkling string lights draped across the foliage, you’re glad you managed to resist.

You can’t wait to see the look on your boyfriend’s face.

You originally had to decline the invitation to his sister’s 18th birthday party, but when your travel plans with your friends unexpectedly fell through, you decided to come and keep it a surprise.

You navigate through the massive crowd to greet Sarah, who you’d texted about your plan. You give her a big hug and a gift, then kindly day hello to all her friends.

When you ask her where Rafe is, she points towards the back of the expansive backyard, assuring you that she kept your secret.

You weave through groups of people, and when your eyes land on your boyfriend, you take a moment to just look at him. He’s standing among his friends, a beer in his hand, pulling you in without even having to try.

You love how when he wears t-shirts, his biceps jut out the sleeves, how the outline of his broad chest is clear beneath the fabric. His usually tousled hair is neatly pushed back, the planes of his face strong, the cut of his jaw sharp.

You still can’t believe all you’ve been through together in the eight months you’ve known him, that he started off as just a guy with a bad attitude that you had to meet at the library once a week.

You never would have expected to fall for him, and to fall so hard, and you’re so glad you did. He may be different than you in so many ways, but you think that’s what makes you two work so well.

Rafe pulls his phone out, glancing at it just to pocket it again, surely wondering why you haven’t texted back in the last hour. He asked you when you were leaving for your trip tonight, and you haven’t responded.

It’s a jarring feeling, seeing him as who he is without you, seeing that he does the same things you do when you’re apart. It’s been a month since you’ve been together in person.

As you approach, he turns away, taking long strides to the bar. You follow, the anticipation making your heart race.

You settle by the bar beside him, his attention turned the other way. You almost forgot how much he towers over you, how big he is.

“Hey, do you have a girlfriend?” you tease, placing a hand on his forearm.

“Yes,” Rafe answers sharply, pulling away before even looking at you. When his eyes land on you, his face quickly changes from frustration to awe.

“Too bad,” you beam up at him.

“What are…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. In seconds, he transforms from the cold grump he was when you met him to the loving man you know he is as he pulls you into a bearhug.

“Ouch,” you giggle when his grip is a little too tight, the rich notes of his cologne dancing over your nose.

“Sorry,” he half-whispers, pulling back to search your face with wide, softened eyes. “I thought you were leaving for your trip tonight.”

“Plans fell through,” you reply. “I wanted to surprise you. And I have to say, I really like how rude you were when you thought I was some girl hitting on you.”

Rafe smirks, the sudden, unexpected dopamine hit of seeing still radiating through him. He can’t believe this is real.

“It’s so good to see you, baby,” he says. “Like this.”

“And not on a screen for once,” you agree with a big smile. “How’s your night going?”

“So much better now,” he replies. He leans down to kiss your temple. You curl into him, your cheek against his chest, cozying into his warm embrace.

All it takes is his hand dragging down your shoulder, over your waist, squeezing your hip, for his body to tighten with desire.

“You wanna go to my room?” he murmurs into your ear.

You chuckle, craning your neck to meet his eyes, your stomach numbing with excitement.

“What about the party?” you flirt.

“It’ll be here when we get back.”

He keeps his heavy arm around your shoulders, his smile refusing to fade, as you sneak away undetected from the other partygoers.

You’ve already been in his bedroom once, but before you can make a joke about needing a tour, he has you against his closed door, kissing you deeply, your face in his big hands.

His kisses quickly get hungrier, faster, his length already firm against you, nudging your stomach.

“Tell me you have something,” Rafe murmurs against your mouth, the room still plunged in darkness.

“I didn’t expect this to happen,” you whisper through a gentle laugh. “Do you not have any left?”

“We finished the box up last time.”

“Wow,” you say. To be fair, you do have to use up quite a lot of condoms on your rare nights together. “It’s okay. I have something else in mind.”

Your hand trails down his firm body, stopping at the bulge beneath his jeans, rubbing, earning a sharp inhale.

He’s gone down on you plenty of times, but you’ve never done it to him. You’re nervous; everything is still so new to you. But you’ve been wanting to do this for a long time.

You start to unbuckle his belt, and once he realizes what’s happening, he’s using all of his self-control to not take over and pull his pants off as quickly as he can.

“You might need to teach me a little,” you whisper.

“That’s fine,” he rasps. “We both know how good you listen.”

The praise makes your heart skip a beat, your hands trembling as you tug down his zipper. You pull his pants down, lowering to your knees as you do it, the swelling under his boxers eye-level to you now.

Rafe gazes down at you, in awe of quickly his night went from missing you, empty, wishing you were here, to his lips buzzing from your kiss, looking down at you in the dimness of his bedroom, watching you palm his cock.

You bite your lip as you pull down his boxers and his hard arousal springs out for you.

You hold him at his base, eyes locked on his as you press a gentle, open-mouthed kiss on the swollen head of his cock.

“Fuck,” he groans. Everything he does with you manages to be hot and filthy, but sweet and tender, too, and it wasn’t until he was with you that he realized what making love really meant.

Your mouth widens with your kisses, tasting his salty precome, covering him in wet warmth.

“You can spit on it,” he rasps, his fingers lacing at the roots of your hair.

You obey, dribbling spit onto his tip, swirling your tongue over him. His knees are already weak, his grip on your hair tighter.

“Just like that,” Rafe whispers. “Get it wet with your hand.”

You stroke him gently, his shaft getting slick with your saliva, gazing up at him.

“Should I put it all in my mouth?” you ask.

He groans, in heaven when you talk like that.

“As much as you can,” he tells you.

You nod, clenching your thighs together from how turned on you are. You sink all the way to the base, gently gagging when he hits the back of your throat, your nose pressed against his skin.

Rafe’s body is on fire from how hot and wet your mouth is around him. You slowly pull back, moving with the curve of his cock, your lips smacking off with a quiet pop, then take him in again.

You start to add more suction, bobbing a little faster, your lips locked around his shaft.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “Suck harder. You can do it.”

Your cheeks hollow as you listen to his instructions, softly gagging every time you reach his base, making his head fuzzy with euphoria.

“Stroke it, too,” he says.

Your grip on his base loosens just a bit as you gently twist your hand around him, following your mouth as it goes up and down.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Go faster.”

Your bobs pick up in speed, his fist in your hair as he guides you to move the way he wants you to, your mouth and hand full of him, eyes squeezing shut from how hot this is.

Rafe gently bucks his hips forward as you suck and lick and moan, his cock getting even harder as he gets close to his orgasm.

“I need to get a towel or something,” he says through a strained whisper. You pull off, gazing up at him, putting your other hand on his bare thigh.

“I can swallow,” you promise.

It sends him over the edge. He puts his hand over yours, guiding his cock back into your mouth, and in only two more pumps, his gut tightens and he comes so hard that he sees stars.

He fills your mouth and you feel his hand go to your other hand, lacing his fingers in yours as he finishes with an intoxicating groan.

You pull off of him last time, sucking hard although your jaw is sore, taking everything he offered.

Rafe doesn’t waste a moment to collect you off the floor, cupping your jaw, breathlessly kissing your lips over and over, his chest heaving.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his words rushing out. “Not just for that. For being here. You made my night so much better, baby. I missed you so much.”

“Me, too,” you whisper. “You’re not mad I didn’t tell you?”

“Mad?” he echoes with a chuckle. “Slap me if I ever get mad at you for anything ever again.”

“I will never take you up on that offer,” you laugh.

Rafe smirks, his head swimming, his heart pounding, staring at you like you put the sun in the sky. Because to him, it feels like you did. You gave him light he always needed, showing him every day what it’s like to give his heart to someone who knows how to take care of it.

[ask-the-pioneer]

squall line

[part 1] // [part 2] // ...

Metropolis. That was the only word that Marbles could clearly make out from the hushed whispers of scavenger elites. A mix of curiosity and anxiety strikes her heart, not at all where she expected to end up. The plan was to visit the two local iterators, deliver a message, and return home safely with Hunter.

It has not been a long walk, but the scavs decide to take a short rest. It appears that they are now right at the base of an iterator leg. Marbles looks up at the structure, the top is shrouded in a thick layer of clouds. The climb is going to be much harder, she thinks to herself.

The slugcat is instructed to sit in a well lit spot, and for now she obliges. It seems like a good enough place to rest, there is plenty of food and no lizards in sight. Marbles glances around.

Marbles: (turns towards Four) “Hey uh, I’m hungry. Can grab food?”

She points towards big popcorn plants further away. Four stares at her briefly, muscles tensing up. Marbles can’t see their eyes, but the warning is clear - she isn’t meant to stray off. The scav grabs a small spear nearby, stabs a blue fruit hanging just overhead, then throws it at her feet. Marbles frowns, but picks it up anyway.

Marbles: (through her teeth) “Right… thanks”

One, the dark coated leader of the elite group, whistles and signs at Two - they are to keep a closer look on the guest. The green scav nods and sits right in front of Marbles, staring at her from under their creepy looking vulture mask. How rude. Marbles hates having her personal space invaded, but keeps it cool. She has never squared up to elites before, and there are four of them now holding her hostage. Best not to provoke them until she comes up with a good escape plan…

Marbles: (trying to keep her face neutral) “Nice mask. Looks uncomfortable to wear, though...”

The silence is awkward, and her attempt at small talk falls on deaf ears. Two tilts their head slightly, but won’t say anything back. Marbles wonders if this is some kind of intimidation tactic… and she’s clearly not having it. Direct confrontation is out of the question, but a little staring contest may scratch that retaliatory itch, if only for a bit. Marbles sits down and, with the blue fruit still in her hand, maintains an unbroken gaze with the two empty holes where the scav’s eyes should be. Stare into the void long enough, goes the saying. She may be weirded out, but she sure won’t cower before them.

One sits quietly, observing the whole situation. Three joins them shortly after, offering a snack of popped kernels.

Three: Something’s dodgy about this scug, don’t you think?

One nods, keeping their eyes fixed at the new “guest”.

One: Have you smelled her? The scent is oddly specific. Three: Nah, my nose’s all scrambled after that fever spell from earlier. But, I can tell - even without it. Curious that she spits out bombs, just like the Chief can? One beast is already enough.

One exhales, a moment of silence fills the air.

One: An awful coincidence to have a slugcat, smelling exactly like her, show up at this exact moment… but perhaps this is the opportunity that we’ve been waiting for. Something to stir the pot. What better person to do it than a relative.

Three glances, confused.

Three: Wuh…? You think that’s her kid? No way, nooo way, who would’ve wanted to touch that beast! Not even with a stick!

Three laughs out loud, but their humor is quickly tempered by a terrible realization. They tense up, tightly gripping a spear on their back.

Three: …let’s kill it, One. Let’s kill it now. I can’t survive another decade under a second Beast. We have an advantage. One: (raising their hand) No. Calm down. Do no sudden moves, she is watching.

Three settles down, annoyed.

One: (pointing at Marbles) Look at the body language of hers - alert and deliberate. Have you seen the spark in her eyes, that fire? Awfully familiar. We could kill her here and now, but that would be a waste. Don’t forget how tightly the Beast clings to its role as chieftain. Imagine how threatened it would feel if its authority was questioned by an usurper. There is no need to dirty our hands if the situation can be dealt with by that mangy red scug. A fight will transpire, and if we’re lucky it will last just long enough to wear the Beast down. Then, we will finish it once and for all, void willing. Three: (whispering) Damn… you’ve got the brains. This better work out, One. We had to wait 10 years for your last genius plan to bear fruit. One: (smirking) You mock me, but this is our best shot. My very first plan did work out, and this one shall too. Have patience.

[littlemillersbaby]

request: Hi lovely person ! Could I request an angst to fluff piece with Joel miller? So I was thinking.. we always see Dbf! Joel smut, but I would really like something angsty with that trope. Maybe something along the lines of the reader and Joel being together in secret because you know being scared of judgment because of the age gap and stuff and not the father finding out. But then there's this woman, more to Joel's age coming into the picture, making reader insecure thinking she's not enough and too young and naive but in the end all turns out good? I'm a sucker for angst loll" word count: 1,2k warnings: cursing!

you were supposed to be past this by now. the self-doubt. the little pinpricks of anxiety you never used to feel before joel. the kind that bloom right in your chest; it hadn’t always been this bad. at the start, it had been electric—hiding, sneaking, the way his hands used to shake the first time he touched you like he couldn’t believe what he was doing. what you were letting him do.

but that was when it was new. now it’s just uncertain.

you came home early. you tell yourself you’re doing it to surprise him, but deep down, it’s selfish. you missed him, wanted to see him and hear that voice all rough and possessive. you were gonna kiss his neck and make him groan like he always does when you wrap your arms around his middle from behind.

but, once you get there, the front door’s already open. maybe he forgot to close it all the way? no way not joel.

within that small moment of you questioning why the door was open, you hear his sweet laugh and a woman’s voice.

you freeze in the entryway, sneakers still on, keys tight in your hand. you see them before they see you.

he was in the kitchen, leaning on the island like he lives here. it’s an image you always love—him comfortable in your house. like it’s his too. but next to him is her. she’s got one elbow on the counter, her whole body tilted toward him, her legs crossed while she’s laughing at something he just said, flipping her shiny brown hair off her shoulder with practiced ease.

your throat goes dry seeing him grin widely at her..he was yours for fucks sake.

your feet move before your brain decides where to go. you make a little too much noise, keys clattering on the hallway table, and the door clicks harder behind you than it should. you know you should smile. a joke, maybe? just say something.

joel turns around fast at the sound.

“hey, baby,” he says, but it’s careful, like he’s trying to read your mood before you’ve even said a word. he straightens up, steps away from the island.

the woman turns to you too. she’s prettier up close, older too. just right..like if he wasn’t with you, she’d be the natural fit. not your frayed little heart that’s too young to have any right wanting something this serious.

“hi,” you say, and it’s clipped and fake.

you try not to look at him. because you know if you do, it’ll all show. how suddenly, irrationally fucking insane your brain’s gotten.

joel must see it anyway, because his eyes narrow, not angry. just—watching, somewhat worried. the older woman pushes off the counter, smoothly. “i should head out,” she says, glancing at joel. “thanks for the help. you’re a lifesaver.”

joel nods, kind of tight-lipped now. “no problem. let me know if it doesn’t start again.” she smiles at you on the way past. you can’t bring yourself to return it. your face feels frozen in place.

joel waits until the door clicks behind her before he speaks.

“you good?” you’re still standing by the entryway, arms crossed like you were cold.

“who was that?” you ask, and it comes out cooler than you meant.

he runs a hand through his hair, sighs, steps toward you, rushing out the words. “her name’s elena. neighbor’s cousin. she’s in town for a bit; had some car trouble.”

you blink at his simple explanation. “oh.”

he studies you. “okay darlin', what’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”

you almost laugh—but it’s bitter and sharp in your throat.

you walk past him toward the living room, not sure what you’re doing. you feel stupid, childish, pathetic. and still—you can’t stop. it’s gnawing at you. inside your chest, inside your bones.

you don’t sit down, just turn to face him.

“nothing. just…she’s pretty and normal. and probably not some big secret.”

he flinches. “what the hell does that mean?”

you wrap your arms tighter around yourself. “you know what it means. i’m the one you sneak around with. the one you don’t talk about. and then i walk in and you’re laughing with her like..like you’re not ashamed to be seen with her.”

his jaw works, tightens, then softens again.

“ashamed?” he echoes, incredulous. “is that what you think this is?”

you don’t answer. you just keep going because now that you’ve started it, it’s like you can’t stop. every thought you’ve shoved down in the last few months starts rising like bile in your throat.

“sometimes i just wonder how long this’ll last, you know? how long before you realize i’m too much or not enough. that this is all some dumb phase and you’re just waiting for a reason to bail. like maybe you wake up one day and look at me and wonder what the fuck you’re doing wasting time with some girl barely out of college who still calls her dad to ask how to fix her tires.”

joel walks to you, leans over you in an endearing manner. “hey..hey..look at me.”

you don’t want to. your eyes are wet and you feel like an idiot. but he cups your face in both hands, rough thumbs brushing your cheeks, and you have no choice.

he leans down, rests his forehead against yours.

“i love you,” he says. “i’m not goin’ anywhere. and don’t you ever—ever—talk about yourself like that again.”

your lip trembles as his grip tightens.

“you think i don’t wish i could take you everywhere? shout it from the rooftops that you’re mine? i do, baby. every fuckin’ day. i just…” he sighs, jaw clenching again. “i worry, alright? i know how people see me. old enough to know better. and you? you’re this bright, gotdamn beautiful thing, and i don’t wanna drag you down into all my mess.”

you shake your head, fast, angry now. “you don’t get to decide that for me, joel.”

he smiles fondly, even with the tension thick between you.

“i know. you keep remindin’ me. but this? this ain’t a fling. you’re not some secret i’m ashamed of. you’re the best thing in my life, i swear.”

you swallow. “then why does it feel like you’re always waiting for it to fall apart?”

he pulls you in—both arms around you, holding you so tight it aches. his lips press to your hair.

“’cause i don’t deserve you. but i’m selfish enough to keep you anyway.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, burying your face in his chest.

his voice rumbles in your ear. “you’re not too young. you’re not too much. you’re not anything but exactly what i want. every second. every day.”

you’re quiet a long time. his hand strokes your back comforting you.

“you smiled at her,” you whisper. “like it was easy to do.”

he leans back, just enough to look at you. “and you smile at bartenders when they spell your name right on your smoothies. doesn’t mean you wanna fuck ‘em.”

you snort against your will.

he grins. “see? there she is.”

you wrap your arms around his waist and hold on tight.

“i hate how much i love you,” you mumble into his shirt.

“nah,” he mutters, kissing your temple. “you love how much you love me.”

you roll your eyes, but you don’t let go. and never will.

special tags: @inbred-eater , @wintfleur , @lowrisemiller

[ohtobeleah]

CHAMELEON IS SOOOO GOOD UGH im obsessed with this dysfunctional couple trying to be functional again! thank you so feeding us!!

i would love to see that breakfast scene btw 👀

Chameleon // Jack Abbot

“Do you still get the usual?” 

It wasn't supposed to be such a loaded question. But the reality was, no. No, you didn't get the loaded avocado, with smashed pumpkin, pickled onions, tomatoes and feta on sourdough anymore. You didn't get the dish you and Jack had often shared. The meal was balanced well rounded. Filling. But you'd stopped ordering that when Jack moved out. 

Now? You didn't have an order. You hadn't been to Willows since you asked for a separation. It wasn't the same without Jack. 

“I'll just have whatever you're having, with a chai latte.” 

But here you were. Sitting across from the love of your life, at a table set for two, feeling like the third wheel. Jack…the silence, and yourself. 

“I had a pretty rough end to the shift,” It's Jack that breaks it though. He sounds tired. You recognise a little exhaustion, maybe even a hint of despair laced through his words. 

“Oh, wanna talk about it?” With a scowling brow, you probe. It's not like Jack to offer up the things that trouble him for free. At the very least, he'd developed a rather frustrating habit of just not offering it to you. 

“I had a guy come in who'd come off second best after being hit by a car on a run,” Jack explained as he rubbed his palms on his knees. He was sweating. Why did you look so perfect? Even after a fifteen-hour shift. “His fiancée was, rightly, devastated. But she told me they'd had one of their first big fights and he'd decided to go for a run to cool off.” 

You didn't reply. The heaviness that surrounded the two of you was all that needed to be focused on. Jack sipped his long black. You stirred your Chai. Both the bacon and egg rolls that Jack had ordered for both of you were now going cold on their respective plates. 

“Made me think about us,” He broke the silence again. Only this time, your heart dropped into your stomach. “How…complicated things have gotten.” 

It was never meant to become out of control. The sadness, that is. Jack thought he had everything under control. He was managing. He was working. He was coping. 

Until he woke up with his hands around your neck.

“I never want to experience that level of regret; that look on her face was something ripped right from a horror movie.” Jack could picture it as clear as day. He was sure he'd remember this woman's grief for years to come. The permanence of it all. The end. The ‘that's it, you can't take back what you said’ in her eyes when she realised her soon-to-be husband was dead, and the last thing she said was ‘Fine, but don't come back with an attitude still.’ 

It made Jack reflect…

“Makes you wonder if you'd turn back the clock, doesn't it?” You signed, picking at the crispy outer edges of the fried egg on your burger. 

“Or you could have just…not left.” He didn't mean for it to sound so one-sided. Like everything had been so perfect before you walked away. Jack didn't mean to make it sound like this was your fault. It wasn't, but god, why did you have to leave? 

“That's not what this is or ever was, Jack? You know why.” You replied, shock made its home across your face as you did so. Where the hell did that come from? “I'm sorry about your patient, but seriously, watch what you say to me.” 

“I needed you the most and you—” Jack watched the fake reality he'd found himself surrounded by, shatter around him. He'd gotten lost in the flirtatious nature of your breakup. He thought he could repeat the cycle… But you pushed back. 

“Forgave shit you would have hated me for, that's the conversation you aren't ready for yet! That's what I did.” It was clearly not the first time you'd had to remind Jack what the reality of the situation was. At least that's probably what the older lady sitting at the table adjacent to you thought. She sent you a small look of sympathy…but although intended as a gesture of kindness, it just felt like a knife to the chest. 

“It wasn't that I left you when you were at your lowest, because I made sure you got proper help before I got myself help.” Jack didn't interrupt as you spoke. He simply sat across from you, thinking about how he shouldn't have opened his mouth. 

“If I didn't love you and didn't want you to be a part of my life, I wouldn't be sitting here trying to figure out if this was just some half thought out attempt at an apology, or if you really are just reaching an age where critical thinking skills start to rapidly decline.” 

“Sorry, I am.” Jack groaned as he ran his hands over his face. You knew he was, you could see it in his eyes when he looked at you. His soul had aged, but they were still the same eyes you fell in love with. 

“You should be,” You scoffed in disbelief, although it wasn't too far out of the realm of possibility for Jack Abbot. “My god, this was a mistake.” 

“I didn't mean it to sound like that,” Jack admitted with a softness in his voice. The guilt was already eating him alive. Sitting this close to you, yet so far away, was driving him wild. “I just mean, I wish things hadn't gotten so bad that you felt like leaving was the only option you had.” 

“Yeah, well,” You groaned, reaching for your chai latte. The sip was heavenly. Maybe it had something to do with the fact you'd been stirring it absentmindedly for five minutes. Or maybe it was just the fact that you hadn't been to your favourite cafe since your separation. “Can't take it back now, just—think.” 

The frustration in your voice was extremely difficult to hear. The last thing Jack ever wanted to do was be the cause of your pain, discomfort or anger. Yet here he was…the cause of all three. 

“You don't usually like it when I do that?” Jack tried to lighten the mood. He smiled, just barely. But you saw it. 

“Beats the alternative where you're just an outright jerk.” You replied. The giggle the two of you shared was as pure as your love. It was a nice moment of reprieve as the hustle and bustle of Willow's cafe filled the comfortable silence. 

“I said I was sorry,” Jack smirked. His eyes never left yours. He had a way of making the world around you stop when he had you locked in a state so fierce, it nearly took away your ability to breathe. 

“Yeah, you say that word a lot, actually.” It was the way you rolled your eyes that broke the stare off. The contest filled with nuance and context that others just passing by would never catch. “To the point where you'd think the definition would be easier to understand.” 

Jack faked a pained chest. You laughed. He smiled softly. It was definitely a moment. It was…nice? 

“You look beautiful, by the way, I haven't told you that in a while, but you look,” 

“Thanks,” You accepted the compliment. “You look like you've been up for three days.” 

“Bed's a lonely place.” Jack shrugged. It was the truth. Sleeping was hard at the best of times. But sleeping alone really made the voices echo. 

“Might need to fix that, pops.” You teased. It was your way of telling Jack he had to keep trying. Keep fighting. 

“I never should have listened to Robby.” Jack offered up as he shook his head. A mouth full of burger had him muffling his words. But you understood perfectly. 

“Was he the one who told you to take your wife to breakfast and insult the shit out of her?”   “I might have to tell Robinavitch to back off?” 

“My wife,” Jack repeated. He heard it loud and clear. You had just referred to yourself as his wife. It sent electricity shooting through his body like he was designed just for you. “I haven't heard you say that in a long time.” That very statement alone was enough to have your heart aching inside your chest. 

“I haven't felt like it in a long, long time.”

[sudsnribbons]

Something sweet | D.W

Girldad!Dean Winchester x Babysitter!Reader

MDNI

Wordcount: 2,704

Warnings: Use of petnames, Unprotected pinv (wrap it before you tap it), dean being dean, oral (f receiving), DBF!Dean, Age gap (reader is 20, dean is late 30’s), Angst, Hand kink, Creampie, Size kink (if you squint), I think that's it!

A/N: Dean would be such a girl dad you CANNOT change my mind. I'm a Dean girlie so I feel like it's easier for me to write with him opposed to Sam. That being said, I hope you enjoy this. I had a blast working on it.

A/N2: I posted this, no joke 30 minutes later i was in an ambulance

You had just gotten off of work. Your 9-5 has drained you. Same papers, day after day. If you were honest you could have just skipped dinner, and went to sleep. God knows you need it, but here you are. 

Walking into the grocery store to pick up a few things for a quick dinner. Deciding to roast some chicken, you stopped by the produce to pick up a few odds and ends for your lunch the next few days. While you were scoping out the best cantaloupe to buy, brown pigtails adorned with pink bows came into your vision. The little girl tugged on your blouse, “I think I lost my daddy.” She mutters shyly. Immediately dipping down to a crouch you tried to comfort her, “Well sweetheart what does he look like? Where did you see him last?”. The girl, who couldn't have been more than 6 years old, began to describe her father to her best ability. During the little exchange, her father came from the chip aisle, seemingly anxious. He breathed out in relief when he finally saw her again, “Babygirl where did you run off to?” He picked her up, setting her in the cart. “I wanted strawberries, then you were gone.” She pouted, “Sweetheart we could’ve gotten you strawberries you just have to ask.” he looked up from the girl to you, “Thank you so much, I’m so sorry.” You smiled at the man, “No problem she wasn’t a bother.” looking down to the girl you smiled again. He thanked you again and you both went about your shopping. 

That night in the midst of making dinner, he was all you could think about. You didn't even know his name yet the thought of him consumed you. Dinner was silent that night, the sounds of your fork against the ceramic, too caught up in your thoughts to turn something on. You went to sleep later than normal, since you had opted to make food instead of ordering out. Your wallet needed a break, and so did your stomach. 

---

Traffic was bad the next morning when you left to go to work, just what you needed. You were already running late due to your phone being dead. No phone = No alarm. You were finally able to clock in, sliding your card through the scanner to get in. Dull boring day was going by like usual when you got a call from your dad, “Hey is everything okay? I’m at work.” The man sighed over the phone, “Yeah sweetheart are you off tomorrow?”. He sounded happier than usual. Odd. “I can be, what’s up?” you questioned. “Nothing, just me and a buddy of mine going fishing tomorrow.” You relaxed as he spoke, “Okay this relates to me how?” You asked. “Well his babysitter flaked on him so he needs someone to watch his little girl.” There it was. You began to realize the relation. “So this is you calling me to ask to babysit?” You sighed into the phone, “C’mon honey it’s the first fish of the season.” He begged into the speaker. “Fine, but you totally owe me.” You reluctantly agreed. “Love you too pumpkin.” He hung the phone up, pleased. You slumped into your rollie-chair. Before you clocked out that night, you were sure to brief them of your absence, despite your affliction. 

It’s not that you didn't like kids, truth be told you couldn't wait to start a family. It’s just you haven’t had a day off in over a month and here you are using it to babysit one of your father’s friend’s children. Maybe it won’t be that bad, you thought.

You woke up around 6am, the same as always. Only this time you were switching blouses and skirts, for sweats and a t-shirt. After showering, you got dressed in a simple black pair of sweatpants and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Thinking nothing of it, you threw on your red converse and headed out the door. The drive there was peaceful. Slow easy Saturday morning. Fog covered the road in a thin haze. Despite your gps failing halfway through, you had gotten it to boot back up and continue to give you directions.

 Pulling up to the house it was beautiful. Gorgeous white house with a wrap around porch. Adorned with an American flag hanging from the banister. Charming baby blue shutters hung by the windows. This wasn’t just a house, no this was a home. Pulling up into the driveway, you are met with a familiar sight. Your father’s red Ford pick-up, parked right next to an intense black Chevrolet Impala. Parking a bit off to the side, you grabbed your bag and headed to the front door. Chatter muffled behind the door as you knocked. Your father was quick to greet you. “Sweetheart you made it! Come in.” He slid to the side and ushered you inside the home. “This house…It’s so beautiful.” you muttered, setting your back on the table by the door. “I helped build it, a long long time ago.” Your father smiled at the reminiscence as you both walked into the kitchen. An oddly familiar voice shouted from atop the steps, something directed at your father. Where have you heard that voice before? God it felt like it was on the very tip of your tongue and you couldn’t spit it out for the life of you. 

Heavy boots stomped down the steps followed by a softer pair of slippered-feet. As the figure came into view, it felt like the wind was knocked out of you. 

That’s where you knew him from. 

“Nice shirt.” Was all he could mutter, sporting his signature grin. You smiled back, as the blush creeped from your cheeks to the tip of your nose. With no makeup on was a hell of a way to greet the man that consumed your thoughts. It also made it harder to hide the attraction slapped across your face. “Thanks, small world.” Was all you could find. Your father looked between the two of you confused, “Wait how do you know each other?”. He was almost scared to ask, knowing Dean’s past. “The grocery store actually, his daughter-” You started but he cut you off, “Cassie.” He corrected. “Right, Cassie wandered off on the search for strawberries was it?” You questioned, looking down at the little girl still dressed in her pajamas. Dean smiled at the two of you, as she rubbed her eyes.  “Yep slipped right out from under me, and found your daughter-” He said. This time you corrected, “Y/n, nice to meet you. For real this time.” You smiled as you extended your hand, to which Dean took in his, shaking gently. You almost passed out when he took your hand, whole body buzzing with tension as his engulfed yours. “Dean.” He grinned, looking down at you slightly due to the height difference.

Both Dean and your father watched as you crouched down to the little girl, “And it is so nice to see you again Cassie.”. Smiling at the little girl, this time her tiny little hand darted out to shake yours, you were quick to return the gesture before standing back up to your regular height. “I’m sure you two will get along just fine.” Your father looked between you and the little girl and then to Dean who was staring at you. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone, okay?” Dean pointed between you and his daughter to which she just found hilarious as she bursted out in giggles. “No promises dad.” You teased, and a spark went past Dean’s eyes as he went to speak but choked on his words. “Right. You girls be good, okay? Have fun” You and Cassie walked the pair to, and out the door. Waving at them as your father’s truck pulled out from the driveway.

—

You were told to have fun, and fun you had.

First order of business, like any, was to put on a gorgeous princess belle dress. Of course. Every princess needs a good breakfast so that you got to making. The smell of banana filled the air as you flipped the pancake, one of which was supposed to look like a crown, though ended up more like a squiggle. Cassie loved it nonetheless. After pancakes you decided to make cupcakes for your fathers’ return. A mess of sprinkles and frosting later, you have 12 well 10 cupcakes. You and Cassie had to make sure they tasted good. The two of you played for hours, swinging and running around the yard. Playing just about every game that could be played. The sun beginning to set, you had come up with one final activity. “Oh come on you’ve never built a pillow fort?” You asked the girl, and she shook her head, “Never-ever.” She replied. “Well it is your lucky day because we are about to change that sister.” You smiled down at the girl and the two of you started to round up all the pillows and blankets in the house. 

One magnificent pillow-fort later, and both of you were tuckered out. Cassie had finally given up the ghost and was passed out in the fort as the credits of Princess and The Frog rolled in the background. The sound of car doors shutting, followed by the low hum of your father’s truck pulling out of the driveway filled your ears. You perked up as the door swung open and Dean stood there looking into the living-room. 

You sat up against the leather of the couch as Dean walked into the living-room, “Oh you two had a blast didn’t you?” he muttered smiling down at the fort before meeting your gaze. “Best babysitter ever.” You motioned to yourself playfully. “I bet sweetheart.” He grinned while deconstructing the fort to retrieve his daughter. You started to refold the blankets and he held her close, still sleeping, and took her upstairs to her room. Folding the last blanket you grabbed your phone charger off the couch and put it in your bag, before starting to clean up the kitchen. You had just started to wash the dishes when Dean came back down the steps, this time empty handed.

“You don’t have to do that.” He muttered as you rinsed the batter bowl from earlier. “I don’t mind.” You smiled warmly. It felt almost domestic, intimate. He reached for the plate of cupcakes, picking one up and peeling back the wrapper. You watched as his hands worked at the paper before he brought the dessert to his mouth and took a bite. You swallowed hard and he noticed. “Everything alright there sweetheart?” He asked, grinning while he chewed and finally swallowed the bite of cake. “Mhm, any good?” You questioned and he nodded. “Been awhile since I’ve had somethin’ sweet.” He muttered.

It almost felt loaded.

Like he meant something other than that cupcake in his hand.

“Glad I could help.” You smiled and teased back, hoping you weren’t mis-reading signals. He smirked as you dried your hands with the dish towel. Leaning over to wipe down the sticky frosting-covered counter, Dean pressed against you. You froze as he spoke, “Now what did you mean by that sugar?”. Your face went red as you laid there against the counter, pinned between him and the cold surface. “T-The cupcakes, something sweet.” You replied in a choked stutter. Smooth. He laughed from behind you. You could feel the vibrations from his stomach against your ass as he spoke, “You and I both know damn well I wasn’t talking about a cupcake sweetheart.” His words went straight to your core, dripping with each word. You stood up, still pinned but now with your back to his chest. “You knew that, didn't you baby?” He whispered into your ear. Lips ghosting over your neck, leaving goosebumps in their path. You nodded as you melted into his touch. “I’m gonna need you to give me more than that angel.” He said as he turned you to face him. Grabbing your hips, he sat you on the counter. Barely meeting his height, he pressed his forehead against yours.

“Dean-” You whimpered in frustration, wanting nothing more than his hands on your body. “Haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already falling apart.” He whispered, his lips almost touching yours. Not wanting to wait any longer, you leaned forward and pressed your lips against his. A tangle of limbs, resulting in your sweatpants around your ankles left you craving more. “Please I need-” His voice cut yours off, “Need what baby? Tell me and it’s yours.” He tested your restraint, leaning down to kiss your thighs. The top of his head pressed against your stomach, and your hand tangled in his hair. Dean groaned against the feeling of your nails on his scalp. “Fuck.” He growled. “Need you Dean, everywhere.” You whined, and he finally gave in. 

Pulling your sweatpants past your ankles, he tossed them to pool on the floor. His hand cupped your head as he leaned you back fully against the counter. Gripping firmly onto your thighs he spread you open, head immediately going to your core. Pressing open mouth kisses against the cotton of your underwear, he watched intently as you squirmed against the laminate. His skilled hands pulled the thin fabric to the side, like a cupcake wrapper. Your nails scratched against his scalp as your fingers tangled in his short hair. Groaning against you as his tongue delved inside you. His eyes, once a soft shade of emerald green, were darker and boring up at you. Dean watched your every move as his tongue worked skillfully on your clit.

It was like a bomb went off when you finally came, taking your hearing and eyesight with it for a moment. Your chest heaved as you laid sprawled out on the counter, Dean licked his lips as you sat up, resting against your elbows. “Sweeter than that damn cupcake.” He grinned as his thumb rubbed against your thigh. “I need more Dean–please.” He looked at you with hungry eyes, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to sugar.” He traced your hips, and you grabbed for his belt, “Need, Dean.” You said it plainly, not being able to simplify it anymore. With that he didn’t waste any more time and he unbuckled his belt in the midst of a messy make-out. He quickly rid himself of anything that could keep you from him. Pressing the tip of his cock against your slit, he leaned his forehead against yours and watched as your eyes widened at the intrusion. The way your face scrunched he could tell that it hurt and he was quick to comfort you.

“I know baby I’m so sorry.” He cooed as he pressed inch by inch in until you were flush against him. Soon, pain turned to pleasure and you allowed him to move. Each rock of his hips buried deeper inside you, you weren’t gonna last long like this. Whines and groans mixed together as you both approached your orgasm. What you didn’t expect was Dean to pick you up, wrapping your legs around his hips and plant his hands firmly on your ass. Gripping the flesh, he pounded into you ruthlessly. Rutting the deepest he’s ever been. 

He tried to hold off as long as he could, wanting to soak in as much of this moment as he could. You cried out into his neck, sinking your teeth into the soft flesh as you came. “Oh fuck-” He groaned, not expecting the bite. That’s what dealt him in, the sharp pain of your teeth into him was too much to hold off on. One last thrust he came inside of you, painting your walls with a thick creamy off-white. Setting you back down on the counter, he pulled his softening cock out of you. Whining at the loss, he kissed your lips as he dripped out of you and down the side of the counter. Wiping you clean with wet-paper towels, he muttered with that boyish smile,  “You free next week?”.

Maybe babysitting wasn’t too bad.

[chrissv4mp]

14 and 66 with billss

billie eilish 02...

⟶ 14) “why don't you make it up to me?"

⟶ 66) “how bad do you want it?”

you should've known that mouthing off to billie when you didn't get your way was a bad idea—should've known that she'd bite back with something that would you 10x more irritated than you made her. you weren't thinking then, but now that she wouldn't even so much as spare you a glance, you were starting to think that maybe you should've thought before you spoke.

"baby, m'sorry," you whine, pawing at the arm that was resting on her lap. all of her attention was on her phone, and it was pissing you off. "bil, please. i've said it all million times."

she laughed. and, sure, maybe it was something on her phone, but from where you were sitting next to her, the video of a food review playing didn't seem all that funny to you. she was just teasing you, seeing how far she'd be able to push you before you broke. it didn't help that she was giving the silent treatment while you were all worked up already.

a quiet, frustrated groan escapes your throat as you watch her continue to scroll. you stay at her side for a few more minutes before huffing and deciding to go sit on the couch across the living room. if she wasn't gonna give you attention, you weren't gonna bother giving her any. even if you really, really wanted to.

nearly 30 minutes passed before either of you had moved or spoken. until billie finally set her phone down and looked your way. "why don't you make it up to me, hm?"

you perked up at that. within less than a few seconds, you were at her feet, on your knees, hands resting at her thighs. an eager hum leaves your lips, and billie's lips twitch into an even wider smile than before, huffing a laugh as her own hands came to rest on yours. you whimpered.

"mhm—yeah, bil, what—what d'you want?" you stammer, already trembling with excitement, fingers digging into the fabric of billie's shorts.

her eyes were darker now, glinting with lust and mischief as she tilted your head up with a finger on your jaw. your own eyes were wide, filled with desperation and longing as you waited for her to reply. her lips parted, and a quiet gasp fall from your lips. "beg to eat me out, ma."

you swallowed. her voice was so husky, so low and attractive, you couldn't help but crumble whenever it reaches your ears paired with her intimidating gaze—and she was asking you to beg? humiliate yourself in front of her?

well, it's not like you could deny her.

"please, bil," you whisper. "please. please let me taste you. m'wanna make you cum, wanna feel you around my tongue, baby, please."

"how bad do you want it?" billie asked, nearly a growl.

"so bad," you answer in a beat, licking your lips. "i want you so fuckin' bad, bil, please. please let me make you cum."

billie smirked. "there's my girl."

⟶ tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @vyntagess @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @hkkuugu @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone

[gl1tchedj3llyfish]

Ever since we were kids, my siblings and I would hover around our mom in the kitchen any time she had the shredded cheese out. We’d stand there making obnoxious ‘cheep cheep’ sounds with our mouths wide open pretending we were annoying baby birds until she relented and shut us up by shoving a handful of shredded cheese into out mouths.

I like imagining that the batkids do this. I can’t see Alfred giving in often if at all, but Bruce? Almost definitely.

Maybe it starts with Dick after getting injured as Robin. You can’t tell me he wouldn’t dial up the ‘helpless injured kid’ act by 1000 to tug on Bruce’s heartstrings. Bruce would only have to give into it, surrender part of his meal or a snack and hand-feed him once and it’s over.

After that, Dick’s either pulling the helpless card or resorting to being plain obnoxious, making loud cheeping noises with his mouth wide open and pointed upward like his namesake. (If you haven’t seen what a hungry baby robin looks like, look it up. They’re so scrunkly. I love them so much, but they’re annoying)

Dick ate all his fries already, but he sees that Bruce still has some? Cheep cheep! Dick is hungry (or just bored) while on patrol? Cheep cheep!

After Dick is no longer Robin, he’s obviously not around or close enough to Bruce to do it as often. And though he may be ticked that Jason now has the Robin name and suit, he insists the baby birds must band together to bother their Batdad, so of course he teaches Jason how to leech snacks and food off of him. Now there’s a duet of annoying cheeping following Bruce around.

Then Jason dies and it’s quiet again.

After Tim comes along, I imagine that it would take much longer for Dick to pass the tradition onto him, but I can’t see the cheeping getting as obnoxious or reoccurring as it was before. Perhaps Dick would do it as Nightwing as one of his ways of getting onto Bruce’s nerves, and Bruce would cave in out of habit or nostalgia.

Tim would prolly try it more often if he could do it for coffee, but I can’t see Bruce trying to pour coffee into his open mouth going very well. Maybe if Bruce attempts to cut him off of caffeine for the night, Tim could overlap his words with loud cheeps until Bruce just sighs and dumps a shot of espresso into the fiend’s mouth to shut him up.

Damian would be baffled and borderline horrified witnessing this happening with any of the other batkids. These absolute animals were really trained by his father? And his father was indulging them?!

I can’t see Damian doing the cheep cheep thing. At least not for a while. As an animal lover, maybe he’d warm up to the idea a little bit after seeing the chicks in a bird nest being fed by mama bird in the gardens.

Lord help poor Bruce after his collection of kids grows. Any time he has a snack in hand, there’s at least two batkids hovering around him cheep cheeping. ‘Kids’ is actually a very loose term, some of these annoying mfers are legally adults and still are trying to get some of his snacks even though they have full access to the same damn snacks on their own.

I also think it would be really funny if one of the younger batkids does this to Dick instead of Bruce. Maybe if Damian finally decides to give it a shot, he cheeps at Dick when he’s eating a snack instead of his father, especially if Damian still doesn’t feel ready to act so ‘unbecoming of a Wayne heir’ in front of his father.

Dick would prolly cry at finally being ‘mama bird’ in these games.

[xjulixred45x]

Oh my gosh imagine how the boys would be falling in love with pregnant yuu (obviously in this situation yuu would be around their age)! Maybe just the 3rd years and maybe 2nd years too.. I’m sure they’d all be good dads in their own way!

Oh, sure! I really like platonic content for these series, but I'm not at all against the idea of romance! Especially for this kind of Yuu.

Since we're talking about a Yuu who's the same age as the TWST boys, it's likely that her baby was the result of a casual relationship (which he didn't follow through with), but she still went ahead with the pregnancy. NOW, I won't be able to write about ALL the second and third years in this post (because I want to leave my bed at some point), but I'm going to include the ones who, in my opinion, would be the most likely to be good adoptive fathers for Sheila/husbands for Yuu.

Rook Hunt

OBVIOUSLY WAS GOING TO BE ON THE LIST; he only sees beauty in different forms, and he believes Yuu has a unique kind of beauty, not only for being herself, but for forming a new kind of beauty! Definitely a great emotional support if Yuu is feeling ugly or unattractive during the pregnancy. Don't worry, Rook appears out of nowhere and starts reciting everything he finds beautiful about her (which mean, absolutely everything).

Rook has a large family, with both older and younger siblings; he knows how to handle children. Yuu probably doesn't even notice him getting out of bed during the night when Sheila is crying and he goes to calm her down, whether it's changing her, feeding her, or simply singing her a lullaby. He happily does it! (The only downside to this is that he sometimes stares at the baby for a long time after she falls asleep, but hey, it's Rook.)

Vil Scoenheit

He grew up with a single father who not only managed to have a stable career and raise him lovingly, but also supported him in his own career. He has great respect for single parents in general. So it's not unusual to see him helping Yuu when her pregnancy is more prominent and/or when Sheila is already born. He's surprisingly patient with the baby, or little potato, as he calls her. He loves taking her and Yuu shopping for clothes (baby clothes don't fit very quickly, after all, but it's an excuse to spoil them both). He's the kind of father who says Sheila "should have self-esteem for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

They divide Sheila's care equally, though Vil insists on babysitting the newborn so Yuu can rest and recover (or when Yuu is having particularly difficult days due to health-related issues). On days like this, it's not uncommon to find Vil with Sheila on his lap, wearing an outfit that's a miniature replica of Vil's, looking everyone in the soul with her little eyes (sometimes she tries to imitate Vil's poses, much to everyone's amusement).

Trey Clover

WAS OBVIOUSLY GOING TO BE ON THE LIST. X2 isn't just an older brother, but he's the only one who keeps Heartslabyul from going completely crazy. Plus, HE HAS GREAT DAD VIBES. Trey probably feels close to Yuu and, like some 6th sense, decides to help her with things, give her healthier desserts for the baby, offer to cook together when she starts having weird cravings—all of this, AND THEY'RE NOT EVEN DATING YET! It drives first-years crazy to see so much longing and chemistry, but they're both denser than rocks.

Trey definitely carries Sheila in a makeshift baby carrier and has perfected the art of multitasking. While he's cooking, he can cradle Sheila, and if she's hungry, he'll give her her bottle (or give her a taste of whatever he's cooking, but shhh). He also makes a lot of dad jokes, the kind of dad who does the "you know what's better than (insert thing)? BAM! (shows you Sheila in the carrier)" thing. He and Yuu strike the perfect balance. Just don't let him feed Sheila at night, or you'll wake up with a super chubby baby.

Silver Vanrouge

Similar to his father, Silver feels almost obligated by duty to make sure his pregnant partner is properly cared for, especially when he sees Crowley neglecting her. Silver feels more alert around Yuu, especially when she needs help. He's like her knight in shining armor. He carries her when her feet hurt, he carries heavy things for her, and Silver keeps any harm from coming to Yuu and her baby in general.

Sheila seems to sleep better when she's with Silver, and so does he. Luckily, Sheila crying is one of the few sounds that can get Silver on his feet almost immediately. Ironically, he becomes more active because of this (even if it's at night). Silver has no problem changing the baby or feeding her at night; after all, he sleeps most of the day. He prefers Yuu to sleep peacefully. He'll make sure they're safe.

Ruggie Bucchi

It sounds weird, but hear me out. Ruggie canonically brings food for the children in his hometown; he's experienced; he's all about community. He probably avoids Yuu at first because of what happened in Book 2, until it becomes clear she needs assistance with her pregnancy and they start to bond. Ruggie is the type of person who tries to distract Yuu from the more unpleasant parts of pregnancy with laughter, whether it's telling her stories about Leona he doesn't want anyone to know or about his town; it works 9/10 times.

Ruggie is also very good at teaching Yuu various tricks, whether it's how to help Sheila learn more efficiently, how to eat the things she's given without complaining, how to make baby clothes last longer (they're cute, okay?), how to save money, etc. Knowing Ruggie, he'll probably use Sheila so Leona doesn't make him do all his work for a couple of days. Do you know what that menas Sheila? Father-daughter time!

Jamil Viper

OBVIOUSLY HE WAS GOING TO BE ON THE LIST SUPREME. He's dealt with Kalim his entire life, takes care of all of Scarabia, knows how to cook and detect poison, etc. He's the kind of boyfriend who, when he finds out Yuu's pregnant, becomes even more meticulous and quite delicate. It's not that he thinks Yuu can't handle herself, but now he can't help but treat her like she's made of glass. Basically, his mother-hen mode intensifies by 200 percent. The kind of boyfriend who scolds Yuu if he eats too little.

It's a bit tense with the baby at first, but he's relieved to a certain extent. Since he and Yuu aren't married and Sheila isn't his, she won't be a servant to the Al-Asims. However, he insists that the baby sleep with them as much as possible, between them. He tries to be strict but loving, to be the "bad cop" and Yuu the good cop, though it's hard not to give in under Sheila's blank stare and her chubby little hands (he can't; he eventually gives in; she looks too much like Yuu, after all).

Kalim Al-Asim

Best boy, he's so pure and innocent. He loves EVERYONE; there's no room for hatred in his heart. He doesn't see Yuu as any different because she's pregnant until Jamil explains that she can't have such intense parties for the sake of the pregnancy. He then understands the situation better and tones down the intensity of his parties a few notches. But yes, he wants to have a "mini" party every trimester (originally one per month, but they agreed it was better per trimester). He's so excited about the idea of the baby, he doesn't even care that it's not his; to him, it is his and Yuu's, and he's going to spoil them so much when he finally meets her!

If Kalim's family gets involved, they'll most likely send servants to help with baby matters, but Kalim insists on helping! He wants to learn how to be a good father to Sheila; of course, he needs some guidance from Yuu and Jamil, but he has every intention of improving. At the end of the day, after much play, practice, trial, and error, Kalim and Sheila can be found asleep in Scarabia's living room, very happy with the end result.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[moon-fics]

Hey there! 👋

Can I request a Bob Floyd xreader where the reader loves food, and when they first meet each other (like he walks into a restaurant and see her), she's stuffing her face (not too crazy though) with food cuz she's hungry and she looks up at him with a deer-in-headlights look and he thinks it's adorable but she finds it embarrassing. It's something I would do, and I think it'd be hilarious to read 🙃

Do you even have to ask? I'd write this happily even if you demanded it rudely! Love it!

It's been a long, long day. Work had you up at 5am, and you slept in, so breakfast wasn't an option. You missed lunch because your boss called you into a meeting. Now, it was finally dinner and your friends had made plans with you.

Unfortunately, they weren't there when you arrived. They texted you saying traffic was so bad that they wouldn't make it until an hour later. So, you're stuck with reservations for three with just you there.

You decide not to let your reservation at this fancy restaurant go to waste. You order something off the menu that you cannot pronounce correctly, and decide to just stick with it. The worst thing that could happen is it taste terrible, but you'll eat it anyway.

The universe smiles on you because the food is divine. It's as good as the price, and you're so hungry you basically stuff your face with it. Of course, you keep your manners and wipe your lips after every bite. You're so engrossed in finally eating you don't notice the man at another table staring at you until his friends begin laughing.

You freeze at the realization that they've probably been watching you eat and have been using you for entertainment. You slow your bites and try to recover your dignity. That stops when the man staring at you approaches your table. You're stuck mid-bite when he reaches your table, and all you can do is stare up at him with wide eyes.

"I, uh, I just wanted to say you have really pretty eyes," He says nervously. His glasses fall from his face an inch, and he pushes them back up. You realize he's wearing some sort of uniform, but you aren't sure for which branch. His brown hair is neatly pulled back and cut short. You know there's a base near here, but you barely see anyone in uniform. "That's all. Thank you!" He coughs out.

He's about to scramble back to his table when you swallow your bite and stop him. "Wait, is that why you were staring at me?" You ask firmly. He spins back around with a mortified look.

"You noticed?" He sounds surprised. As if he were somehow being the sneakiest man in the world, and assumed you didn't even notice him. "No, that wasn't- I mean, yes, I was staring because you're beautiful. It was also because my friends kept telling me to approach you," He admits.

You glance past him to see his friends with wide smiles. One of them gives you a thumbs up, and it's almost laughable. This is such a romcom type of thing to happen, and yet it's happening to you. You return your focus to him.

"So, you were just going to say I look beautiful and leave?" You rest your head on your hand. Did he even think this encounter through? What did he even want to gain from it other than saying he told you? "I mean, it's nice, but usually guys ask for a number or social." You point out.

"Yeah, I was going to ask. You just looked busy with your food, and I really didn't want to be the guy who randomly asks women for their numbers." He mumbles. You feel bad for him because he clearly wants to talk to you, but he has no idea how. He probably faces dangers regularly, but this is anxiety-inducing for him.

"Ok, so why don't you join me?" You suggest while gesturing to one of the empty chairs at your table. "You seem sweet, and it would be nice not to eat alone." He nods at your proposal and pulls out the chair across from you.

You spend the rest of the night talking and learning about each other. He's a lieutenant in the Navy and a back seater. It's much more interesting than your job, so that takes away the need to bring up your terrible day. With every new topic, his eyes light up and his lips grow into a wider smile. The more time he's with you, the better he feels about approaching your table. He doesn't want the night to end and he'll make sure to thank his friends for forcing him over here.

By the end of the conversation, he offers to pay for your meal and even asks if you want dessert. You're surprised at how much of a gentleman he is, but you don't let him pay.

"So, Bob, is this more than you expected to get from saying I was pretty?" You ask as you both exit the restaurant. The mood has shifted to a more playful atmosphere. It's much better than the awkward tense one you had when first meeting.

"I said your eyes were pretty," He corrects with an amused tone. "But after spending time with you, I'd say you were more than just gorgeous." His words make your heart race. You haven't had a man act this way towards you in a long time, and suddenly he appears while you're eating food like an animal. It's humiliating and satisfying at the same time.

"Well, you'll just have to call me for more time then." You wink. It doesn't dawn on you that he doesn't have your number. It doesn't hit him either.

You only realize when you get home and check your phone. The amount of screams you unleash into your pillow is too many. There's no way you'd run into him again. You don't even know how long he'll be in the area. Your luck ran out and you're paying for it.

--

It hasn't even been two days, and you've found him. Somehow, somewhere in the cosmos, a star is fond of you. You're staring at him from across the coffee shop. He's already gotten his order, and he's about to leave. You can either let him go and get your breakfast, or risk not eating this morning to stop him.

You'll just have to starve because you don't even get to consider the choice before you're grabbing his arm. He's a lot firmer than you thought, and it catches you off guard.

His head snaps to you, and his surprise changes to relief instantly. "I don't have your number!" He blurts out. The first thing he thought about when seeing you was the reason he never reached out.

"I know!" You laugh. "I forgot to give it to you. I didn't think I'd see you again, so when I did, I didn't want to lose you," You explain. You let go of his arm and hide both behind your back. Now, it's your turn to be timid.

"I-I carried around mine on a card in case I saw you," He confesses. He pulls out his wallet and shows you a ripped-out notebook paper with his number on it. Next to it was your name with a tiny heart next to it.

[musicalnobody]

The Ghost You Fed - Ch. 2

bunny hybrid!reader X cane corso hybrid!simon "ghost" riley ⋆ Call of Duty ⋆MDNI⋆ 4.3k words ⋆ 18+, explicit in future chapters ⋆ tags to be added as story progresses ⋆

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Summary: Being a service animal is all you've ever known, being spoiled as a treat for all you do for your owner. So what happens when you see something, or rather someone, you can't have? (Inspired by 'it will come back' by hozier)

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, eventual smut, kind of icky simon, stalking, reader is so spoiled, drug dealing, dog fighting, slow burn-ish

A/N: omg i am soooo sorry this took so long!! i just finished my second year of college and have been absolutely swamped with work, hopefully this chapter makes up for it <3

You were ecstatic when you woke up and the rain had finally cleared, excited to start on your garden outside. The sun had cracked over the horizon a few hours ago, small rays passing through the closed curtains in Agnes’ room, a sign for you to wake Agnes up. Still in your night set, you peeked to the top of Agnes’ bed, only to find the woman already sitting up and reading a book, lamp casting a faint glow on the room

“Good morning, dear, how did you sleep?” Agnes signed, setting her book down.

“Pretty good! Dreamt of being able to start my garden.” You replied, smiling as you pointed to the sun outside. Agnes nodded, returning your smile as she looked at you again.

“Would you like to make us breakfast?” She asked as you started to stretch out your limbs, shaking the sleep out of your body. You nodded, thinking about what ingredients you could use to make one of her favorite breakfasts, English pancakes. Needing four simple ingredients, as well as some oil for frying, this was yet another recipe that you could make from memory. Combining the flour, salt, eggs, and milk, you decided that you were going to jazz these up.

Lemon wasn’t always your favorite flavor, often being too tart and sour, but today? Today lemon sounded fresh, at least, that’s what you were telling yourself as you sprinkled lemon juice and sugar on the top of the pancakes. When you took the pancakes to Agnes, she showered you in kisses, praising your creativity and how you were always making exactly what she was craving. You watched as she took the first few bites before digging in yourself, patting yourself on the back for your baking skills.

It was May, a perfect time to plant the seeds for the flowers to bloom in late summer or early fall. Gardening was one of the ways you took time for yourself, separated your life from being a service animal. You took the primrose tray out of the fridge, making sure the seeds had germinated enough, before grabbing the nasturtium seeds and heading outside.

You certainly weren’t in the best outfit for gardening, but you were confident in your laundering abilities. A corset back pastel pink dress with floral patterns adorning the fabric, the skirt going down to your ankles. Some lace separated the skirt in the middle and adorned the top of the bodice as well. You were wearing pink ballet flats and had a little white lacy bow in your hair, tying the look together.

Agnes gave you a knowing look when you skipped out the door, one that read of disapproval of your choice of clothing, but let you go anyways. She never liked when you gave yourself more work to do but knew you would throw a tantrum if she said anything. You prioritized looking pretty over practicality, as that was something that made you feel like a proper pet and not just a work animal, so Agnes slowly stopped protesting and let you clean out whatever mess you made later.

The sunny day was perfect for kneeling in the dirt and planting flowers. The sun’s rays doing their job to make little beads of sweat drip down your face, as you began to dig out little holes for the seeds. The dirt was soft, if not a little wet from the rain yesterday, making it easier to scoop. It also made it easier to get on your dress, two circles of mud sitting where your knees were sinking in the dirt. You waved to Agnes as the woman stared at you with a smile from the inside, she didn’t like the dirt much. It made your task even more rewarding, knowing your owner wanted to have things like nice landscaping and you could do it for her.

The clusters of primroses, decorated in pinks, yellows, whites, and purples, would line the front of the house. The nasturtiums would be on the side of the house, decorated in reds, oranges, and yellows. You had a plan, one that was going to bloom beautifully. You looked at the holes you had dug in the front of the house, perfectly placed so the flowers wouldn’t look too spaced out or too crowded. Grabbing the first primrose seed from the tray, you gently placed it into the hole, patting some extra dirt on top of it. The first one was successfully completed, and for some reason you just couldn’t shake that stupid chill from creeping up your spine.

After continuing to plant the primroses, you reached the last one. You repeated the process, placing the flower into the hole, scooping some dirt over it, and patting it down. You were finally able to step back and appreciate your work. Grabbing your watering can, a pretty pastel pink similar to all your garden tools, you gave the flowers a light pour before moving onto the nasturtiums. These seeds didn’t have to germinate, so you simply opened the package and put a couple of seeds in each hole, repeating the process of scooping and patting. When you reached the final one, the progress wasn’t as obvious, but you watered them anyways.

The flowers would look simply beautiful once bloomed, a sentiment that Agnes shared as she went outside to look at your work. You had run inside, leaving your shoes at the door as to not track mud in, and begged her to come outside to see what you had completed. After some tugging, she followed, a beaming smile on your face as you gestured to the seeds that had been planted.

“You did a great job.” Agnes signed as she ran her fingers through your hair, scratching at your ears in the way she knew you liked. You simply gave her a small hug, making sure not to get dirt on her as you looked at your work one more time before heading inside. You watched as Agnes grabbed the pitcher of lemonade she had made while you were out, grabbing a cup and pouring you some, before sitting next to you and enjoying some of her own.

⋆🐾⋆

The smell of his favorite breakfast hit him right in the face as he went to check on you in the morning. Watching you prance around in that little night set, covered by only a nightgown, while also making breakfast? Simon’s resolve was crumbling around him. He watched as you made the simple dish, adding your own special touch of lemon to the pancakes. He wanted to taste them, wanted you to serve them up to him on a plate so he could thank you with his tongue. Jealousy was starting to consume him as Agnes showered you in kisses, but he wouldn’t do anything about it. Not him. Not now.

After you had finally gone to sleep the previous night, he had walked down to the ring, needing the extra cash in his pocket. When he had arrived, he was greeted with the familiar smell of sweat and rubber, the two men in the ring already going at it. The people around him parted as he stepped through the room, trying to find the manager. He usually wasn’t too hard to find, as he rather liked watching the fights himself, but this time, he was nowhere to be seen. Simon knew his way around, making his way to the heavy door in the corner of the room.

He gave a few short but powerful knocks before the door was swiftly opened. There he stood, a hulking Russian man that he had met during his time in the SAS. Nikolai. Nikolai had started the hybrid ring before he had gotten involved with the SAS and managed the place more presently when he finally stepped back. He was the only one who knew about Simon’s involvement in the hybrid fighting scene, making sure it stayed that way.

“What brings you to the ring?” Nikolai greeted with a small smile, ushering him into the office. It was a moderately large room, a large corner desk taking up a good quarter of the room, with a couple of chairs strewn about and several trophies from Nikolai’s own wins.

“Just need a bit of extra cash.” Simon huffed out as he shoved his hands into his pockets, “Maybe let out some steam.” He added, a small smirk appearing under his mask. Johnny would've hit the man upside the head if he knew that this was the conversation he was having with their old squad mate, but Nikolai simply nodded, taking a seat in his large desk chair. Simon watched as he sifted through some papers.

“I can rearrange some fighters tonight, get you out there. There’s plenty to go around.” He replied, a similar smirk decorating his face. He grabbed a pen and crossed out some names, giving Simon three fights for the night. “That work for you?”

“Perfect.” Simon replied as he stepped forward to shake Nikolai’s hand. The man never asked for any money from him, the other fighters? Sure. But not Simon. So, as Simon stood in the makeshift locker room, getting ready for his next fight, he pondered exactly what he was going to do with this money. If he was honest with himself, he wanted his old mode of transportation. His motorcycle. Hybrids weren’t allowed to own or ride such vehicles in common occurrence, stuck to cars no bigger than a small compact, with no access to motorcycles or off-road vehicles. They were simply deemed too irresponsible, but Simon rejected that thought heavily. He finished wrapping his knuckles, he missed the open air.

When he stepped into the ring the first time, his head was on straight. He fought at the top of his game. A quick kick there. A hefty punch there. Simon had perfected his strategy and prediction of his opponents. It made him a deadly match in the ring. He quickly put the poor hybrid in front of him in a headlock, listening as the crowd roared. Simon wrestled the man to the ground before giving him a swift punch to the jaw, granting him the victory.

His second fight was a just a bit off. He missed a punch once. Didn’t down an opponent with a kick like he thought he would be able to. He was frustrated. Simon’s mind kept flickering to you. It was late, and his mind persisted in giving him images of you, beautifully sprawled out at the end of your owner’s bed. He still didn’t let the man touch him. Finally landing a punch to the side, the man cried out in pain as Simon wrapped his arms around the man and slammed him to the ground, once again landing a quick punch to the man’s face to declare victory.

His third fight? He wanted to kick himself. It started off okay. His predicting not as spot on as usual but still enough to be okay. But then he missed a punch, then a kick right after. He was faltering. Mind going to the way you brushed out your pretty fur, how your night set hugged every curve and crevice of your body. He managed to land a punch to the man’s jaw, but he wasn’t quick enough, he left himself open for too long.

Simon grunted loudly.

The hybrid had slammed his fist into Simon’s abdomen. Right into a spot that was outright frowned upon. Boos cascaded through the crowds. Whistles blew. And Simon was all but being ripped from the man in front of him, pure adrenaline keeping him up. But the adrenaline was quickly wearing off, and the pain was just as quickly setting in. Slow, stabbing pain rippled through his body as they guided him to Nikolai’s office.

The second Simon’s ass hit the chair, and the men were out of the room, Nikolai was on him. How he shouldn’t have put him out there if he couldn’t handle three fights. How he’s done so many more in a night before. How irresponsible he was. Simon understood the reason he was getting scolded. His clumsiness was obvious on stage, it was clear something was clouding his judgement. But Simon also knew that the other hybrid was going to get a hefty talking to, and a long suspension. Something Simon was not prepared to receive himself.

“You have to understand Simon, that was a big hit you took.” Nikolai stated, resting his head on his fists clasped together.

“The fuck do you mean ten days!” Simon growled, he couldn’t be away from the ring that long, he needed the extra money. He was screwed without this, would be forced to stretch the large compensation he was going to get for this injury for the next ten days. Simon would be selling a lot more this week.

⋆🐾⋆

When you finally got back inside, you were tasked with cleaning the dirt off your dress. It was easy enough, some soap there, some agitation there. You had perfected the technique, using a hair dryer to help speed up the drying process while you watched Agnes scurry around the house. You were going to the farmers market today, one of the only places Agnes would get her produce from. This meant that you would have to be on your best behavior, helping her to translate for vendors and selecting what she wanted without the vendors getting upset at you. Vendors often thought of hybrids as dirty, and while they were welcome to walk around, they weren’t often allowed to touch.

Agnes suddenly appeared in front of you, holding your vest out to you. It was a bright pink vest with the words ‘service hybrid’ printed in big bold letters on the back. You had other patches on it, one’s that outlined your boundaries and had a large one on the front that said translator, but what really made it special were the personal details. Like your other vests, Agnes had sewn this one so it fit you perfectly, lace lining the edges of the sleeves, as well as the collar and bottom hem, with the regular circular buttons replaced with hearts. It was the perfect vest for you.

Your trek to the farmers market was long, having to take the hackney carriage to get there. If you were honest with yourself, it only took around fifteen to twenty minutes, but the cab often meant those minutes were spent in silence, the carriage drivers often not wanting to speak to you. You didn’t appreciate it, but you simply thumped your foot quietly, making your discomfort know to Agnes and Agnes alone.

“You’ll be okay my dear, we’ll be there soon.” Agnes signed, a sympathetic look on her face. You simply scooted closer to her to rest your head on her shoulder, wishing you could just drive instead. You watched the buildings of the city pass by, slowly turning from Manchester to Bury, quickly heading towards the farmer’s market. If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was that the guy knew how to drive.

When he finally slowed to a stop, you looked out the window and all but threw open the door in excitement. Agnes chuckled to herself before you walked over to help her out. The stalls were bustling with people despite it being a bit later in the day. You scanned over them as Agnes pulled out her list, it was pretty short today. The Bury market being open multiple times a week meant they’d probably be back soon.

As you were looking at the strawberries, you felt a chill down your spine, but when you swiveled your head, you didn’t see anyone looking your way other than Agnes’ now concerned stare. It wasn’t until you were looking at the asparagus that you spotted something peculiar. Feeling that familiar chill, you turned your head to look in an alleyway, and there stood a man. He wasn’t facing you, instead turning to talk to a much smaller stranger.

He was big. Entirely too large to be standing in such a tiny alleyway. He was wearing baggy black cargo pants and an oversized grey zip-up, hood up over a black beanie. The man had a black surgical mask obscuring his face, but he was turned away so you couldn’t see his eyes. You were shaken out of your non-existent staring contest when Agnes shook your shoulder.

“Is everything alright dear? I just need a bundle.” She signed, and you nodded. Picking up the bundle and putting it in the bag, you glanced up once more to yet again his back turned to you. You turned to Agnes as you paid and added the bag of asparagus to the larger tote bag.

“Yeah sorry, just thought someone was staring.” You told her, eyes darting to your feet sheepishly. Agnes simply laughed, petting your hair,

“Anyone would want to stare at you, look at how pretty you are!” She signed. You blushed, Agnes was always one to shower you in compliments, ones you thought she deserved herself.

“Thank you,” you replied as you walked to the next stall. Lettuce was on the list, so you grabbed some and put it in the tote, quickly paying for it before stepping to the next one. You went down the row, beetroot, chillis, potatoes, peppers. And that’s when you felt it again, as your hand hovered over a green pepper. Your head once again looked back and forth between the different stalls before you spotted the man in a different alleyway this time, the same man by his side, smoking a cigarette.

His deep brown, almost black eyes flickered to you for a brief second before he flicked his cigarette to the ground, stomping it out before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking away. You gulped, not sure of the interaction you had just had, before swiftly grabbing the pepper, shoving the money into the vendors hand before walking away quickly. Your manners weren’t as good as usual, but you were frazzled. Who was that man?

As you collected the final things, the spinach and green onion, you began the journey back home. The vendors were getting used to the two of you, meaning there were less sneers, less judgement from the sellers themselves. The stares from other customers were still plenty evident, you could hear small whispers as you got in the hackney carriage.

When you got home you hastily put the groceries away, making Agnes chuckle, but she didn’t complain. Having done your tasks for the day, you shrugged off your vest, handing it back to Agnes so she could hang it up. Agnes gave you a small chuckle before heading off to the living room, leaving you on your own. You bounced up to your room, happy to work on your crochet project, a small pink bunny plushie. The yarn was plush and soft, perfect stuffy material.

The sun had gone down quite a bit, and you were done with the head and arms. When the hairs on the back of your neck stood up this time, you almost expected it. Eyes flickering up to see a sight that makes your heart skip a beat. A man in a dark grey hoodie, baggy pants with tons of pockets, standing right atop the building across the street. But what scared you the most was what the hood covered, the half skull resting atop the black balaclava the man was wearing. You let out a small squeak, blinking and opening your eyes to realize he was gone. You were seeing things.

⋆🐾⋆

Simon had left after you had finished the pancakes, having a deal set up just outside the neighborhood that called for him before he had a chance to grab one. The kid was in his early 20’s, potentially a college kid, who was getting cocaine for his next party. Simon hated these deals, knowing that so many people were going to be consuming it, but he wasn’t going to pass it up, especially with the fact he was barred from fighting.

“How much do you have?” the kid asked, and Simon wanted to roll his eyes, they had already discussed it before. He chalked it up to the kid being nervous and chuckled, after all Simon wasn’t exactly the most approachable guy.

“Got about five grams on me,” he replied lowly. The kid was fidgeting but was otherwise trustworthy.

“Could I take three and a half? An 8-ball?” He asked. His voice was shaking, and Simon was frankly surprised the kid knew how much that was.

“Sure, that’ll be five-hundred pounds.” He said, holding out his hand while he fished in his pocket for the baggie. Luckily, he had already premeasured and packaged it in a baggie. The kid handed him the money as Simon handed him the baggie. “Pleasure doin’ business with you kid.”

He couldn’t stop himself from wandering back to your neighborhood before his next deal, observing from further away this time as to not get caught. You were knelt in front of the house, pretty pink dress getting covered in dirt and mud. You were planting flowers from what he could tell, and that’s when he knew you were far too delicate for him to be touched.

Simon walked about an hour away before finally catching a hackney carriage to Bury, getting out just outside of the city. The walk was nice enough, the buildings blending in together as he followed the street signs. He knew his way around the city by now, the never-ending amount of picking up and dealing making sure of that. As he was walking, his mind fluttered to you and how that cute little bow was sitting atop your head, how the way the dress accentuated your waist and how your plush hips made the dress flair. Simon couldn’t keep his thoughts off of you.

When he met with the guy he was supposed to give the rest of this supply to, his mind still flickered to you. How you were so naïve to the life Simon lived, how your life had been so different from the torture he had endured. He started wondering about your past, how long you had been with Agnes, what your life was life before, wondering if you were like him at one time. Simon couldn’t help it, so much so that the guy had asked if he was feeling okay, missing too many conversational cues.

“’m fine, just a little too busy for my comfort” He stated as he looked amongst the stalls in front of him. It wasn’t a lie, there were frankly too many people for his comfort, stalls as far as the eye could see. The guy was rattling on about his job when he spotted your flowing hair. He didn’t dare say anything to the soul in front of him, terrified to put you at risk. But he noted it as he looked back down at him. Just in time, seeing in his peripheral that you had noticed him.

Your eyes lingered on him long enough that it almost made him hot and bothered. Almost. Simon held his resolve together by convincing the guy to walk with him, said his legs were getting tired just standing there, to which the guy agreed. He could try and tell himself he didn’t mean to go in the direction you were walking, but as he lit a cigarette, he saw you getting closer and closer with each purchase. Your hair was flowing in the slight breeze, hands hovering over which potatoes would work for the week. He wanted to walk right over there, pretend to be the vendor so he could talk to you, but Simon didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself.

Your hand was over a green pepper when he flicked his eyes up to meet yours. He could’ve sworn time stood still as he mapped them to memory, you looked startled that he was meeting your gaze, and he noted your skittish behavior. quickly flicking his cigarette onto the street, thankful his mask was covering the small smirk on his face. He forced his eyes away He nudged the guy next to him again, exchanging a quick goodbye before leaving again his needs more than satisfied.

Once again, Simon walked about an hour and a half before he grabbed a carriage, letting his mind wander and ponder your presence today. He hadn’t expected you there. Had expected to be entirely alone for the rest of the day, excited to see what you had been up to the rest of the day when he would’ve come back later that night. But instead, you seemed to follow him, appearing at just the right time to catch him off guard. Enough that he wasted half of a good cigarette. Simon was losing his mind.

As to prove his lack of sanity, he found himself telling the carriage driver to take him to the street behind your neighborhood. He was hopeful that the hour-long walk gave him enough of a head start and that you would be back home by now, something that was quickly proven right as he watched Agnes flip through the channels on the TV. But you were nowhere to be found, at least, nowhere to be found on the first level, so there Simon was, perched on the building in front of your house. Staring.

He had picked up on your hobbies by now. Baking, crocheting, often writing in your journal when you were bored. Simon hadn’t meant for you to look up, expecting you to be too engrossed in your project. When your eyes flicked up to meet his, he froze. Fuck. What was he doing. What kind of stupid idea was this? So, Simon did the one thing he knew he was good at. He ran.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

taglist: @hughjackmanadict @pistachioslife @venommie @misscaller06 @mouthfuloffilth @2kool4skoolll @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @astrxsee

[dadupbuck]

Comforting fics

In these trying times many of us need a pick me up 🤧 here are so sweet fics to make your heart go

Pookie by carpediaz @sofa-king-lame

Rated M | 2,7k | Buddie | established relationship, pet names

The one where Buck and Eddie try to settle on pet names to use for each other

Sweet as Pumpkin Pie by 42hrb @exhuastedpigeon

Rated G | 2,3k | Buddie & Jee | uncle buck & uncle eddie, pumpkins, getting together

“That’s pretty cool,” Eddie said and Jee nodded at both of them, her hair already coming out of the little pigtails that Maddie had put it in when they picked her up. “How many pumpkins do you think it took to build it?” “A billion!” Jee yelled, running through the pumpkin house with a giggle. “A billion, huh?” Eddie asked with a laugh, circling around the outside of the house to catch her on the other side while Buck waited where she ran in case she doubled back. Eddie felt something warm and comforting settle in his stomach at how easily he and Buck worked together even outside of work. He ignored the thought that followed - that he and Buck had been a parenting team for years now and maybe it would be nice to have another kid one day. Maybe it would be really nice to see Buck holding a baby. Maybe Eddie wanted that.

Paint on your face by paleredheadinascifi

Rated T | 5k | Buddie | AU, getting together, art teacher Buck, meet cute

If you ask Christopher, that smudge on his eyebrow is a birthmark. If you ask Eddie, his kid won't stop painting on his face and he has no idea why.

Plant new seeds in the melody by bibuckleyforever

Rated G | 21,5k | 4 chapters | Buddie | AU, florist Buck, flirting, getting together, no angst

Eddie's all but given up on dating when he meets Buck at the scene of a call. Chimney and Hen think of it as a sign from the universe. Buck and Eddie think of it as a chance to finally get the love story they've always wanted.

What Is Love For $2000? By Fayevian

My all time fave!

Rated M | 17,2k | Buddie | AU, humor, light angst, famous Buck, multimedia, Jeopardy contestant Buck

One night when Eddie can't sleep, he discovers the hottest Jeopardy contestant of all time (objectively). With the "help" of his team and his fairly good working knowledge of Twitter, they devise a plan to get Evan (from Jeopardy) to slide into Eddie's DMs. It works surprisingly well.

Hen Wilson's Four Part Guide to Making Your Stupid Friends Date by songbvrd @songbvrd

Rated M | 25k | Buddie + 118 friendships | Hen POV, crack treated seriously, miscommunication, idiots in love, locked in

When Buck and Eddie aren't speaking, Hen decides to take matters into her own hands.

50 cheeky texts by songbvrd

Rated M | 20,9 K | Buddie | crack treated seriously, texting, awkward flirting, bad pick up lines

Buck gets drunk-dared to send Eddie one cheeky text every day for 50 days. Eddie loses his mind. TW for the cringiest pickup lines in existence.

Maybe this is how it's supposed to be by IcyFox17 @icyfox17

Rated G | 2,5k | Buck & Bobby | sleepiness, slice of life, late night drives, hurt/comfort, sleep deprivation, parental Bobby Nash

Buck has been struggling to sleep lately and Bobby offers to help via late night drive.

Let me cradle your body (be a safe place to rest) by @thewolvesof1998

I am not at all biased... Just don't look at the dedication... i am not biased at all

(ok so people who don't know that I'm @sergeantchenford (previously smilingbuckley) will be confused lol)

Rated G | 1,9k | Buddie | soft buddie, sitting on laps my beloved underrated trope, pre-relationship

What starts out as a normal 118 gathering ends with Buck sitting on Eddie's lap.

Hoodies & Hockey by batnsons

Rated G | 4,5k | Buck & Bobby | parental Bobby, Buck needs a hug, borrowing/stealing clothes, platonic physical affection

Buck has a habit of stealing Bobby’s hoodies // for 911 Week 2021, day 1: “you stole another one of my hoodies, didn’t you?

Diagnosis: Dumbass by snarkymuch

Rated T | 2,7k | Buddie, Buck & Chris | family fluff, hurt/comfort, worried Eddie, minor injuries, Chris has two dads, fluff and humor

Buck takes Chris out for a light hike, somehow ends up falling out of a tree, and Chris patches him up while waiting for his dad to arrive.

You don't have to be related to relate by Polish_Amber

Rated G | 10k | Buck & Bobby, Bathena, David/Michael, Buck & Eddie | David POV, protective Bobby, misunderstanding, fluff and humor, Bathena being Buck's parental figures

The one where David is determined to prove that he’s in it with Michael for the long-haul, and that includes accepting and caring about the children of the Grant-Nash household. All 3 of them. (And Athena and Michael laugh more than they have in months, Bobby is sheepish, and David learns a bit about chosen families).

Don't Play Games (Come My Way) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels

Rated E | 43k | Buddie | AU, enemies to lovers, rivals to lovers, The Hating Game AU, smut, light angst, misunderstandings, fluff and humor, Buddie being idiots

Buck hates Eddie Diaz. Ever since his publishing company and Eddie's merged, the man has been nothing but a pain in Buck's ass. The way he nitpicks all of Buck's company emails, the way he spends half his day bickering with Buck, the way he makes Buck's stomach flip and the way he's started haunting Buck's dreams... yeah, it's one hundred percent hate. Definitely. Buck's sure of it. Because what the hell else could it be?

I think I really should start making a list of what people's usernames are on Tumblr 😂

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

You got me good (I knew you would)

(Sam Winchester x female reader)

Summary Sam and you go on your first date after a long time of skating around each other. During dinner, you reveal to Sam that you’ve never had sex. But Sam is about to change that… CWs Virgin!reader. Sam being the sweetest potato. Communication. Loving, sweet and gentle (but still kinda steamy). 18+. 9.6k words. AN Virginity is a dumb as fuck concept, but this is the reader deciding it's her "first time". She's not particularly virginal or innocent, either. She's just a person who happens to not have had sex before. :)

Sam Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

The restaurant wasn't fancy, but as fancy as you could get in a no-name town in the middle of nowhere. They had seated you close to the kitchen and you kept hearing the clanging of dishes and occasional cussing. There was an A/C somewhere above you that was making the air just a little bit too cold for you in the dress you were wearing. When you got your food it was somehow overcooked and undercooked at the same time.

None of it mattered.

The world could have been burning down around you and you would have looked at the flames and thought pretty!, because Sam was sitting across from you on your first official date.

Sam and you had talked a long time about whether first official date was the correct title for it. It was your first date, but you had spent so much time together in the last months, living basically cheek-to-cheek that it felt a little strange to call it that. You had also done things together, all above deck, and you had kissed, so yeah, having your first date now was definitely a little weird.

When you had told Sam this he has chuckled, but then he had turned to you, all intense, serious, long-legged, geeky, earnest 6’4’’ of him looking at you fully, and he had said that this was different though. Things between you were different now.

So first official date it was.

“You don’t think we have enough horrific stuff in our daily life?” you were asking, stealing a cherry tomato off Sam’s plate. “I guess I just don’t get the appeal of reading about even more of that stuff in your free time.” Sam grinned and watched you pop the tomato into your mouth.

“It’s just interesting,” he said. “How people work, what they think. How they get to be that way.” He reached for the bottle of wine you had ordered, topping up your glass first and then his. “Plus it tells you a lot about police work, how sometimes the most obvious details are missed because people don’t want to see what’s right in front of them.”

He stopped himself, looking a little shy the way he sometimes did when he thought he’d been ranting. He checked your face for boredom or annoyance. He wouldn’t find either. Your hands were placed under your chin and you were listening to him attentively, watching his face. A small smile came over him as he picked up his glass to take a sip.

“’s just interesting, is all,” he mumbled into it. You smiled at his constraint.

“Well, maybe I need to give it a go,” you said, and Sam’s eyes lit up. “I’m sure there’s some serial killers that are fun to read about.”  Sam grinned.

“I think you’d like it. It’s all about psychology, at the end of the day.”

“There you go with that big brain again,” you sighed, making Sam chuckle. “I like my reading a little dumbed down.”

Sam was taking another sip and almost choked with how hasty he put the glass down. “That’s not true! There’s nothing dumb about what you read,” he said, actually sounding offended on your behalf. You grinned.

“I say that proudly, Sam. We get enough complexities in our day job. So it’s visceral delights during off-time for me.” You gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fantasy lands, quests, good guys, bad guys, torrid romance,” you counted down, then shrugged. “Couple o’ nasty sex scenes.” Sam’s smile stuttered.

“Oh yeah?” he asked.

“Mmh hmm,” you said, taking a drink. “Gotta tread carefully, though. I read the first Ice and Fire book waaaay too young, and it gave me a lot of weird ideas about what sex was.” You chuckled into your glass.

“Like what?” Sam asked, a distant smile on his face. He was watching you intently.

“Like… how much of it is had in taverns?” you said, a slight nervousness creeping into you. Sam grinned, though.

“Real life not holding up on the tavern sex, huh?”

You tried to return the grin, but noticed it didn't come to you. Okay, you thought. You were gonna have to talk about this sooner or later.

Taking a breath, you gave yourself a push. “Tough to say,” you replied, holding onto your wineglass for emotional support. “Since I’ve never had sex.”

You looked at Sam’s face while you said it, your expectations running wild. His eyebrows went up a little, and that was it. He didn’t run out the door. He didn’t laugh at you.  Which were all things you’d imagined might happen, but they didn’t.

“Really?” he asked, but he didn’t sound shocked or weirded out. He was just confirming.

“Really,” you said, and you weren’t sure if you sounded nervous.

“How come?” Sam asked, then added: “Because I know it’s not for lack of offers.” You smiled, a little flattered.

“It just never… felt right, you know?” you explained. “I got close a few times but then I always kind of put the kibosh on it.” You shrugged. Sam nodded.

“I think that’s good,” he said. “I mean to wait if it doesn’t feel right.” God, you could have kissed him. You pressed your lips together.

“Not sure what that does for my market value, though,” you said, trying to play past the moment. “Do guys want whores or virgins these days? I can never keep up.”

“No idea,” Sam replied, his face a little serious, and then he said: “I just know what I want.” He was looking at you, pointedly and you felt your face heat up.

“And what’s that?” you asked. Sam kept looking at you.

“You.”

Holy mackerel, this man, because he quickly added: “That’s if you want to be wanted. If it’s not for you…” he shook his head. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” you said, “you’re making me the opposite of uncomfortable.” It sounded a little weird so you chuckled. Sam grinned.

“Good. I’m glad.”

You put your glass down, poked at the rest of your food even though you’d lost all interest in it.

“So would you…” you started, then pivoted, not sure how to approach what you wanted to say. “Do you want to want me… anytime soon?” You looked up and Sam was already looking at you. You were just dropping your fork, so he moved his hand over the table to you and held yours.

“What do you want?” he asked. Chewing the inside of your lip, you looked at him.

“I wanna have sex with you, Sam,” you said, because, well, you did. You really did. Yes, there were nerves and as much as you knew that it was nonsense there were preconceived notions in you through years and years of horrible socialization. That you wouldn’t be good, that Sam wouldn’t like you as much afterwards. But you recognized these things and compared them to the man sitting in front of you, the man you were pretty sure you were in love with, and they seemed to pale. You trusted Sam, trusted him with all your heart. And you wanted him.

He was stroking the back of your hand with his thumb, looking at you. “I wanna have sex with you, too,” he replied. You squeezed his hand, a chaste gesture compared to what was happening where your eyes were meeting. You had to take a deep breath.

“Tonight?” you asked, carefully.

“If that’s what you want,” Sam said, squeezing your hand again. “I can wait,” he added, “for as long as you want. But yeah, I mean, I’m not gonna lie.” At that, that shy grin returned to his lips. “I would really love to be with you. I’ve been thinking about it… a lot.”

You licked your lips at that, the thought that Sam had been thinking about you making more heat run through your body.

“You have?” you asked, and Sam nodded. “What’s it like?” you asked, hungry to know what was going on in Sam’s head, what he was imagining, what he liked and wanted. He shrugged.

“Kind of changes. What’s always the same is that I want to make you feel good.”

A small, shuddery breath left you. Sam cleared his throat, seeming to give himself a little push just as you had earlier. “I mean I want to make you come. I want to eat you out.”

You bit your lip, feeling a delicious pull in your core. Was this how you found out you were into dirty talk? Or was it just Sam?

Seeing your reaction, Sam continued: “I want to know how you sound and feel when you come. What you like, what works for you.”

Of course Sam would want to learn, would want to explore. That was just the kind of guy he was. You nodded.

“I would like that,” you replied, your voice coming out a little breathier than you’d expected. Sam nodded, holding your gaze.

“What do you want?” he asked. You took a second to think. You’d never considered that you would have a conversation about the sex before you had it. It had always seemed like something that just happened, in the throes of passion. This was much nicer, much less daunting.

“Well, that whole you-making-me-come business sounds really good,” you said, making Sam grin. “Uhm, I’m not sure, I mean…” You leaned forward, hoping no staff would heard you. “I think doggy-style always looks really hot? Or when the girl's on top?” you said. Sam took an audible breath through his nose. “But I also I would just want to look at you and see you, so it’s a toss-up.”

Sam nodded slowly, looking at you. There was a look on his face that you’d never seen before until recently. It showed up on his face sometimes when you kissed him or when he was just looking at you for a while. A hunger, or something like it. A want. It thrilled you, seeing it now.

At that moment, your waitress came over to your table. “Anything else I can get you guys? Maybe some desert?” she asked.

You held Sam’s gaze as he raised his eyebrows, a question in his face.

“No, thanks,” you answered. “We’ll just get the check.”

The evening outside was cooling off after the day had been warm and sunny. Sam took your hand the moment you were out of the restaurant. You smiled up at him and he tugged your arm in close to his body.

The motel you were staying in was down the road, which was good, since you didn’t have a car. Dean had left earlier that day to visit an old flame a few hours away, and you weren’t expecting him back until the next day, or even the one after. So you had the room, and Sam, all to yourself.

The thought made you stop on the sidewalk. Sam took another step, then noticed you were behind him. He turned around, a questioning look on his face while his hand still held yours. You pulled on his arm only a little but he followed it as if you’d tied him to a ten ton truck.

Once he stood close to you, your neck all the way bent back you told him: “Kiss me.” The question disappeared from Sam’s face, replaced by a smile. His free hand went up to your face, barely touched it, his thumb running over your jaw. His face came closer and his nose touched yours, and only then did he kiss you. Softly and gently but passionately at the same time.

You dropped back on your feet after having pushed yourself up the better to reach him and looked into his eyes. Then you tugged his hand again and you continued to walk towards the motel.

You were both giggling and already touching each other all over by the time you reached the room. Sam had planted a hand on your ass and you pretended you were trying to get away from it, but the touch made you so giddy you thought you might burst.

You got to the door, Sam pulling the key from his jacket pocket, and you leaned your back against it, Sam standing as close to you as possible as he put the key in the lock. You were looking up at him and managed to distract him before he could turn it. His hand left the key, instead going to your hair, as he leaned down to kiss you. Your arms went around him, pulling him closer, and the combination of the door behind you and Sam-the-wall in front of you made your head spin.

The kiss turned a little, giddy pecking becoming something different. Your hands went up to Sam’s head then, pulling him against you, as you could suddenly feel his tongue. You opened your lips, letting him in, and he did that thing where he breathed out of his nose, as if he needed to control himself. It made you shudder. When you separated for a second to catch your breath, you were almost panting.

“Open the door, Sam,” you said. His hand shot over to where the key still was and turned, making you both almost fall into the room together. It would have made you laugh, usually, but not right then. You were too busy pulling Sam’s face in again, push your tongue against his. You were both breathing hard and you were distantly impressed when Sam remembered to kick the door closed behind him.

Then both his hands were on you again, pulling you close, closer, closer, closer. There was no room left between you two and still Sam wasn’t close enough. Your hands dropped to his shoulders, finding his collar, and you started to push his jacket off him. Sam moved his hands from you only for a second to let the jacket drop, then he was on you again, his hands running up your back. Your denim jacket was riding up since you had to stretch your arms so high to reach Sam, and he ran his hands under them, the thin fabric of the dress that had made you feel cold in the restaurant earlier suddenly a godsend.

Sam wasn’t moving fast enough for you so you removed your hands from him a second, the effort of it nearly making you groan, and tore the jacket off your own shoulders, dropping it somewhere behind you, your arms shooting back around him immediately. A second later they were dropping to his chest, as you started to unbutton his shirt. You made it to three buttons before you started struggling on one.

Breaking the kiss, you looked to where your fingers were, cussing silently, while Sam looked down at the same time. Your hands were shaking from anticipation and when you spoke your voice sounded shaky as well.

“Damn Winchesters and their layers,” you muttered, trying to make a joke. Sam huffed a little, then his lips were meeting your forehead, your hair. Finally you defeated the button and opened the rest of Sam’s shirt, tearing it off his shoulders but as you looked up at him again to kiss him, his hands landed on your arms.

“We need to slow down,” he said, breathing hard. You felt an uncomfortable twitch in you. Slow down? Why? Was it not good?

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” you muttered instead as Sam moved half a step away from you, the distance feeling huge. He breathed out slowly. Now that they weren’t on Sam anymore you suddenly felt intensely aware of your hands, unsure what to do with them. You wrung them in front of you for a second, then quickly stopped when you realized what you were doing.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, his voice gentle. You looked up at him. He was watching you carefully.

“Yeah,” you said, nodding, “yeah, just, uhm, little nervous. But I liked the kissing part. Maybe we can do more of that?” Sam smiled at that, but as usual he wasn’t falling for your joking if it was covering up something else.

“We can just take it slow, okay?” he said, his hands going from your arms to your shoulders, squeezing them gently. You pressed your lips together.

“I was kind of hoping to get past the nerves, just get through it, by not slowing down,” you admitted, a little embarrassed. Sam nodded.

“I get that,” he said, “but if it’s something we just want to get through, maybe we should wait?” Your nerves were raging a battle in you, but the thought of waiting, of not getting to be with Sam that night was even more upsetting.

“No,” you said, almost whining a little. “I want to be with you, Sam. But yeah, I’m nervous.” Sam nodded again.

“What are you nervous about?” he asked.

You bit your lip. Part of you still didn’t want to talk about it. The talk you’d had at the restaurant had been great, sexy, something new you wanted to explore, but now that you were in the middle of it, the idea of revealing your fears made you feel vulnerable. You took a deep breath, letting it out through pursed lips.

“I’m…” you started, then cleared your throat to continue. “I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you said, to Sam’s continued, encouraging nodding. “I’m scared I…” You stuttered a little, feeling much more embarrassed about this fear than the previous one, feeling like it stood in for some kind of failure of character, that you should be above this.

“I’m scared I won’t be good,” you finally continued, suddenly feeling a lump in your throat. “And I’m scared,” you said, pushing yourself through, trying to ignore the tears you suddenly felt in your eyes, the tingling in your nose. “I’m scared you won’t think I’m good and that it’ll change something about us.”

You sniffled. The way Sam looked at you, the empathic expression, the sweet puppy dog eyes, the absolute goddamn fucking earnestness of him was like a finger poking at your heart. And then, when he saw that you weren’t going to say anything else, he wrapped one arm around your shoulders, pulling you close, holding you against him, his free hand stroking your hair. Your head landed on his chest, his broad, wide chest, and you snuggled yourself against him.

Sam kissed the top of your head, and you could have combusted from how much you loved him in that moment, from how close you felt to him.

“Okay,” he said, his words vibrating through you from where the top of your head was now tucked against his throat. “First of all,” he continued, his voice serious, “we’re not going to do anything that hurts or doesn’t feel right or good.” You nodded against him.

“We’ll use lube,” he continued, “and I’ll make sure you’re relaxed before anything else happens.” His words sent a twitch of arousal through you, despite your emotions. He would relax you.

“And second,” Sam continued, holding you a little closer against him, “and I want you to really hear this, you do not have to worry about being good or being good for me or about anything changing about the way I feel about you.”

Sam’s fingers were making little circles on you, and combined with his body heat radiating off him it was calming you down. “It’ll be good if you enjoy yourself. That’s the only deciding factor.” He moved his head, and then he was pulling you away from him, making you look at him. His face was serious. “It’ll be good because it’s you and it’s me and whatever that means and whatever works, that’ll be the good part, okay?”

And because you were maybe still looking a little unsure, he added: “Fuck the rest.” It made you laugh. Sam cussing always made you laugh, because it was so uncharacteristic for him. “Okay,” you said, nodding.

“So,” Sam said, looking into your eyes. “Do you want to keep going? Or we can do something else. We can watch TV or just sit, or—” Your hands had wandered up to his face again, gently cupping it.

“Thank you, Sam,” you said. He smiled a little. “You have nothing to thank me for.” He looked into your eyes a moment longer, then leaned down to kiss you again. Softly, lips only, almost carefully as if you hadn’t just been devouring each other’s faces a minute earlier. You felt an intense stirring inside you, and you dared to pull him a little closer. Sam didn’t stop you, instead his hand also found your face.

“Are you sure?” he muttered against your lips. “I’m sure,” you muttered back, and then: “I want to feel you, Sam.” Sam sighed at that. His hands went to your hips, and the tugged at the fabric of your dress a little.

“Do you want to take this off now or wait?” he asked quietly. You grinned.

“I want you to take it off me,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. Sam smiled at that. He started pulling up the dress, the fabric bunching where he was collecting it, and then slowly pulled it over your head, his hands reaching high to take it off you, letting it fall behind you. He looked down at you, at your body and his forehead met yours.

“My God, you’re beautiful,” he whispered. You laid your hand on his chest, biting your lip at the tone of his voice, one of absolute admiration. You giggled a little, and he smiled when he looked at your face. “I can’t believe I get to see you and touch you,” he said, pressing his nose in next to yours.

“Well,” you started, “tit for tat, Winchester. Let me see those demon slaying muscles I keep dreaming about. Get out of that slutty, little v-neck.” Sam laughed, a little sheepishly. You tugged at the hem of his shirt, laughing as well. Sam assisted you, helping you pull the shirt up over him. You nearly swooned as you allowed your hands to run over his neck, down his chest to the pronounced muscles of his hip bones. You couldn’t help but bite your lips, and after allowing your eyes to roam over him as well before you looked up at him again.

“You’re beautiful, too,” you said. Sam looked at you, a moment of surprise on his face, then he pulled you in again to kiss you. You hung your arms around his neck, using your hold on him to kick off your shoes, making you hop a little which made Sam grin against you, and only hold you closer. He did the same with his shoes while you blindly opened his jeans, and he pulled them low enough to fall.

You felt one of his hands move up your back to your bra and suddenly another rush of nerves went through you. Being in your underwear was one thing, but Sam seeing you naked...

You broke the kiss, taking a deep breath. Sam looked at you, studying your face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately. “Just a little nervous about the naked part,” you said. Sam shook his head.

“That’s fine,” he said. “Do you want to keep your underwear on for now?”

“Maybe for a little?” you said, and Sam nodded, then kissed you again.

“Do you want to lie down?” he asked when he broke away for a second. “Get more comfortable?” You nodded against him. Without separating, the two of you side-stepped to the bed, you stepping on Sam’s toe once. “Sorry! Sorry!” you cringed. Sam chuckled. “All good.”

You reached the bed, your calves bumping into it. “Oh, wait,” Sam said, suddenly letting go of you. He turned around and located his bag. As he walked to it, you crawled on the bed, sitting cross-legged on top of the comforter. Sam pulled something from his bag, then turned around and walked the few steps back before stopping dead in his tracks. He was looking down at you, a slight smile on his lips, lips slightly parted.

“What?” you giggled. Sam shook his head a little. “Nothing,” he said. Just then, you were taking him in as well, just in his boxers now. You saw that he was hard and looked back up at his face again.

“Come here,” you said. He crawled on the bed as well, setting a small bottle on the night stand first, what you assumed was lube. Sam came close to you, laying his hands on you knees.

“Do you wanna lay down?” he asked softly. You nodded, then leaned back, lying down and stretching out your legs. Sam did the same, but he laid on his side, head propped up by one arm bent at the elbow. Once you’d both settled, you looked at each other.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” you said back, smiling.

“What do you want?” Sam asked. You thought for a second, then took the arm he wasn’t holding himself up with and laid it over yourself, petting it. Sam’s fingers stroked your side, his underarm was across your stomach. It just felt right, he felt right.

“I just want to keep kissing,” you said, lifting one hand to play a little with his bangs. “And keep touching.” Sam nodded, and then leaned down to you, your lips meeting. The hand that had been on your side moved to your hip, making beautiful little circles. He kissed you, and kept kissing you, and you would have been content to spend your days like this but there was a pull in you, a need building.

Feeling bold, your hand went down to Sam’s resting on your hip and, slowly, you moved it to your lower stomach, to just above the waistband of your underwear, then pushed his land even lower, his fingers finally touching the fabric. Sam broke the kiss and looked down at you.

“Are you sure?” he said, but even having his hand there was making you clench. You nodded.

“Yes, Sam,” you said, and it came out breathless. “I want you to touch me.” Sam kissed you again and then his hand slowly, slowly wandered lower, slipping into your underwear. Sam was perpetually warm, always running hot, so you didn’t have to worry about his fingers being cold.

The tips of his fingers were on your mound and then there was a gentle touch on your lips that made you shudder a little. You took a deep breath, but not from nerves this time. Sam was touching you. He broke the kiss again, and looked at you.

“All good,” you said, bringing your hand to the back of his neck to pull him closer, “feels nice.” He nodded, and then, instead of kissing you, his mouth landed on your cheek, then traveled to your jaw. At the same time he was running two fingers left and right of your clit and pussy. He wasn’t rubbing you, but on every other round he made his fingers come close to your clit. He was slowly bringing the two fingers together and then there was a low thrill of pleasure when he arrived closer to your center, the nerves there being stimulated.

You hummed and closed your eyes as Sam’s mouth wandered to your neck. This, you knew. This was what you did to yourself, often to the thought of Sam. Without thinking about it, you wanted to let him know.

“Do you know,” you said, your voice quiet, “how often I touch myself thinking of you?” Sam’s movement stopped for a second, both in your panties as well as on your neck as a small groan left him at your words. Then he picked up his rhythm again. He liked that, you thought. You ran your hand over the arm that was moving against you, over the hard muscle, the soft skin.

“I always think of you, Sam,” you continued. The low thrill of pleasure you’d felt kept returning, Sam’s fingers just barely brushing past a part of you that was hot, almost itchy, slowly zeroing in on it. “Hmm,” escaped you, “oh, that feels nice.” Your breathing was picking up a little and you suddenly noticed that you could feel how wet you were. Sam’s movement on you was moving your inner lips and you realized you could hear it as well. An intense blush moved into your face but a second later the thought exited you, wondering if Sam had heard it as well. If he would like it as much as knowing that you masturbated to the thought of him.

His mouth was wandering up to your jaw again after having been stunned against your neck, listening to you. Then he was back at your mouth, and you could see him, see his face. That hungry look on him.

“Does that feel good?” he asked, giving you a short kiss.

“Yes, it feels really good,” you replied, giving him another kiss with your eyes open, not willing to not see his face. A little gasp left you when Sam’s circles found just the right spot.

“There?” he asked and you nodded.

“Keep going,” you whispered, your breathing picking up. He kept going, adding a little bit more pressure. A high little moan escaped you and you pulled up one of your legs on instinct, letting it drop open so Sam could move with more freedom. He smiled at that.

“Can you, mmh, can you go a little faster?” you asked, feeling a little timid about making requests. Sam started going faster, just a little and you had to bite your lip at the feeling.

“Right there, right there,” you mumbled and Sam concentrated on that spot as your pleasure kept building and building. Sam was about to make you come, and that thought alone was pushing you towards the edge fast. You had to close your eyes at the feeling, your hand going away from Sam’s arm to his side for something to hold onto, as his work on you was starting to make you come undone.

“Oh, Sam,” you sighed, “that feels amazing, don’t stop.” Sam leaned his head down, mouth close to your ear.

“You look so beautiful right now,” he whispered. “So fucking hot.” Okay, so the cursing worked for him in this specific situation, you just managed to think, before your hand curled in pleasure where you were holding Sam, your head going up to be closer to him.

“Sam, I’m gonna—” you panted, your eyes falling shut and your lower body seeking more friction. Sam was breathing hard against you, and then you were coming, your head hitting the pillow under you, while you were biting your lip hard, suppressing your whimpers as you pulled your leg up, and Sam continued rubbing you through your release.

“Oh my god,” you breathed out, the tension leaving your body, only your chest rising and falling. Sam kissed your cheek gently, and you turned your head to catch his lips with yours. Then he laid his forehead against yours. When you finally blinked open your eyes, he was looking at you. His pupils were blown.

“Good?” he asked. You nodded, feeling a grin spread on your face.

“Very good,” you replied.

You lay like this, for a little while, while you stroked Sam's side and he your arm. Eventually he gave you another kiss, then your chin, your shoulder.

“Do you want me to keep going?” he asked. Keep going? What else was he going to do with you?

“Do you want to…?” you asked, looking down his body. Sam shook his head. “Not yet, okay?”

You nodded and then Sam was slowly kissing his way down your body. Oh. That was what he was going to do.

You waited for the rush of nerves to spike but it didn’t come. Maybe you were simply too fried from the orgasm. Sam was kissing your stomach, tearing you away from your thoughts when he made you giggle. He looked up at you, grinning.

“I love your laugh,” he said. And I love you, you almost said. You pressed your lips together.

“Can I take these off?” Sam asked, laying his finger on the waistband of your panties. You nodded. “Yes.” Sam’s hand went to your hips, and you pushed your lower body up, letting him tug them off your legs. You saw a smudge of white in its crotch as he did.

“Oh geez,” you said, but Sam smiled.

“You know that’s good, right?” he said.

“I know,” you mumbled, “just…” Sam kissed you high on your thigh.

“If I do my job right there’s gonna be a lot more where that came from,” he said, and playfully nipped at the place he just kissed.

“Sam!” you gasped, but couldn’t help but laugh. He grinned up at you again, then moved both his hands to your hips. “Ready?” You nodded. “And if there’s something you don’t like just say it or tap my head, okay?” You nodded again, your hand going to your mouth, a grin building behind it. “Are you gonna, uhm, use your fingers?”

“If you want me to,” Sam responded. You nodded again, your damn head getting a little too used to that. “Yes,” you said. “Just tell me before you do, okay?” Sam smiled.

“I will,” he said.

“Well, then,” you said, unsure what to say. “This pussy’s not gonna eat itself, Sam.”

Sam did a pfff sound. “How romantic,” he joked. You shrugged. “That’s me.”

Then Sam, still chuckling a little, lowered himself, continued kissing your thighs and hips but soon moved closer to your sex. You looked away shortly and pulled a pillow from the head of the bed to push under your head below the one that was already there. When Sam noticed and looked up, you said bashfully: “Wanna see you.” There was that look again, that deep look like something was hooked in Sam’s heart or his brain. Something good.

Without breaking eye contact he lowered his head and kissed your clit. The sensitivity sent a delicious shudder through you that made you gasp. But that was nothing compared to the picture of Sam between your legs. You tried to take a mental photo, just in case you ever fell on hard times.

His mouth met you again and this time his tongue came darting out, slowly moving over the bundle of nerves. You sucked in a breath, arching your back up a little, wanting him closer. You watched as he continued, the feeling sweet and tickling. Then he lowered his mouth further, and sucked the little nub into his mouth. Your plans to watch him throughout went out the window then, as your head fell back, your chest heaving.

“Sam,” you moaned. In response he hummed, his sucking creating a pulsing sensation that you swore you could feel behind your eyelids. Suddenly the sensation was gone, and you looked down at him, the loss actually heartbreaking. Sam was looking up at you, his face still close to you.

“I’m gonna use a finger now, okay?” he said. “And you tell me if you want another one?” You nodded, you lips clenched together. “Yes, just, keep going please? That was amazing.”

Sam grinned, giving you a quick kiss. Then his mouth was on you again and the wonderful feeling was back. You actually found yourself snuggling your back into the bed, and then you felt his finger at your entrance. You felt a touch of nerves then. You’d used your own fingers of course, and toys, but while you had an intense appreciation for Sam’s hands, they were big, the fingers long. Just relax, you told yourself. You can stop at anytime.

Sam’s finger was still exploring you and then he was slowly pushing into you. The feeling was strange at first, something entering you that you weren’t controlling, but Sam’s work on your clit was a good distraction. His finger went in and then you felt him curl inside you, the sensation strange at first but not uncomfortable or painful as he was moving the tip of his finger up, stroking.

You focused on the feeling on your clit again, the suction and the pulsing pleasure but then you felt something suddenly, a warmth, no, a heat and your attention was drawn back to Sam’s finger. It felt like he was igniting a fire in you, stoking it.

The more he continued the more you liked it, the more it was making you roll your hips, grind down against him. You moaned and then your hand was finding the back of Sam’s head, needing something to hold onto, while the other went to grab the pillow under your head.

“Yes, yes,” you moaned, your breathing so heavy it was almost painful, as the two feelings Sam was creating in you suddenly shook hands, melted and then it was just one wave, one wave of Sam, taking you higher and higher.

“Sam, more,” you panted and you felt something change, another finger entering you but you were too far gone when suddenly your back arched up, your breathing became shallow and you came hard.

You whined, then sobbed as you tried to suck as much air as possible back into your lungs. Your body was nothing but waves of warm goodness for a few seconds, like like was shooting out of your every pore.

After what felt like your consciousness reentering your body your back met the mattress again, a heavy sigh leaving you. You looked down to find Sam. He was nuzzling your thigh, looking up at you.

“Get up here, you magic man,” you said, breathing still heavy. Sam grinned and you saw his chin and mouth were wet. When he came up to kiss you you must have cringed for a second, because Sam stopped, then wiped his hand on the bed covers, and then his hand over his lower face.

“Sorry,” he said, “got a little carried away.” You chuckled as he kissed you, the happy grin not leaving his face. You tasted yourself on him, distantly. It was strange.

“You like this?” you said, looking at him, a little unsure. He nodded.

“You taste sweet,” he said, kissing your cheek.

“Sam,” you said, closing your eyes at the kiss. “You can’t be sweet and smart and this sexy and love makings girls come with your mouth. What is your deep, dark, dirty secret?” Sam chuckled.

“You,” he said, as he kissed your cheek again. “I love making you come with my mouth.”  You looked into his eyes then.

“I’ve never felt anything like that,” you whispered, because somehow whispering it was less terrifying than saying it out loud. Sam looked at you, his eyes boring into you. It felt like he was speaking to you even though he didn’t say a word. Feeling emboldened, you licked your tongue over him below his mouth, where he had missed wiping off part of you. Sam huffed, surprised.

“Yeah,” you said, grinning, “not too bad.” Sam leaned down, kissed you hard. When he stopped, he said: “Fuck, you’re sexy.” You bit your lip.

Sam kissed you again, and you pulled him close, trying to maneuver his big body over you. Sam budged, following your hands until you had him over you, his hips between your legs. You wrapped yourself around him and then you felt his erection in his underwear. Tugging him closer, you ground yourself against him, and Sam groaned into your mouth.

You didn’t have the physical strength to roll Sam over, but when you pushed up on one of his shoulders and he looked at you to see what you wanted, he followed your lead. He rolled on his back, taking you with him, and you laughed against his mouth. Then you were pushing yourself up and moved down to his underwear.

“Can I?” you asked, mirroring his question earlier. Sam nodded and then you were pulling his boxers down, all the way down his long legs and then dropped them.

You had seen a few penises in real life but most in movies, or porn, so you had some idea what to expect. But you hadn’t expected to think that Sam’s cock was beautiful like the rest of him. He had a thick head from what you could tell, and looked smooth and soft. Well, soft except for all the hardness.

You marveled at it for a second, then looked up to meet Sam’s eyes again.

“Can I touch you?” you asked. Sam nodded. “Yes.” You lifted your hand, your fingertips slightly grazing the skin. Sam’s cock twitched at the touch and Sam took a deep breath. You looked up at him.

“It’s okay,” he grinned. “Just sensitive.”

You bit your lip, then ran your fingers along him again. The skin was soft and silky. You licked your lips, then lowered your head, and kissed the side of him, very gently. Your eyes went back up at Sam, who was watching you intently, his lips slightly parted, his face concentrated. You kissed him again, then stuck your tongue out, licking the skin. He didn’t taste like much, skin and maybe a little salty, and just a little bit Sam.

Feeling a little more confident, you raised your hand again and took him in your hand. “Is that too hard?” you asked. Sam shook his head.

“It’s perfect,” and after a second added: “You’re perfect.” You grinned.

“You only think that,” you said, emboldened by his compliment, “because you don’t know I’m about to do a is this thing on? joke.” Sam laughed loudly, his head falling back and he tugged one arm behind his head.

“So long as you don’t knock on it,” he said.

“That wouldn’t be good, huh?” you asked. He shrugged. “Who knows, never tried it.”

You chuckled, then licked your lips again, but this time you concentrated on his head. There was a bead of moisture on top that you lapped at and as you did you heard Sam inhale again. His sounds were beautiful. You wondered what he would sound like when he was inside you.

You felt a pull of arousal in you. You leaned down again, and licked over his head again, then suckled at the top of it. He felt nice. You closed your eyes, a mmh leaving you as you continued sucking on him, then flicked your tongue against him. Letting him slip out of your mouth, you looked up at Sam again.

“What’s the part that feels the best?” you asked. Sam looked down at you, waiting a second before he answered.

“You don’t have to—” he started.

“I just want to know, okay?” you said, and then gave his head a gentle kiss. “Don’t make me do any crowd work,” you added, raising your eyebrows. Sam chuckled, then cleared his throat. “The, uh, below the head, underside.”

You flicked your tongue against him, testing. On the second flick you seemed to hit it, because Sam gave a hard exhale. You did it again and his eyes closed.

“I wanna learn how to make you come as hard as you made me come, Sam,” you said, giving him another lick. Sam opened his eyes, searching out your gaze. Then he sat up and pulled you up to him.

“Okay,” he said, his face close to yours, so close that you could feel his breath on your face. “But we can do that some other time.” He kissed you deeply, and you sighed against him. When the kiss broke, Sam didn’t go far. “Let me make love to you,” he said in a quiet voice. You leaned forward, catching his lips again. “I want you to,” you said against him.

Sam easily and gently rolled you back on your back and then reached for the lube on the night stand. While he did, you reached behind yourself and unclasped your bra. Sam looked back just as you were taking it off yourself and you waved it over your head once or twice, lasso-style, then threw it into the room. Sam grinned, but then looked down at your breasts.

He leaned forward, hands holding him up on your right and left, and let his lips grazed over one of your nipples. Next he sucked it into his mouth, flicking his tongue against it. You let your hand run into the hair at the back of his neck, sighing. It felt wonderful. But you wanted more of him.

“Sam,” you said, and he pushed himself up. “Want you,” you said in response to his questioning look.

In response, Sam sat up, briefly letting go of you and opened the lube, squeezing a helping onto his hand and placed the bottle back on the night stand. He spread the lube along his cock and you watched him, fascinated to see how he touched himself. He pumped himself a few more times and then turned his body to you.

“Do you want me to keep going?” he asked, looking at your face. You nodded.

“I want you to,” you added. Sam looked at you for another few seconds, surveying your face. He didn’t seem to see anything to give him pause, so he grabbed another one of the abundance of motel pillows, laying his hand on your hip, telling you to lift up. You did, and he shoved the pillow under you, elevating your lower body.

Then he leaned over you and kissed you deeply. You hugged his shoulders and then felt him bob against your pussy. Sam broke the kiss, looking down your bodies, and his head met your entrance as he lined himself up.

“Okay,” he said, looking back up at you again, “angle up your legs?” You did, so they were higher on Sam’s body. He hooked one leg around him, then scooted is hand under you, holding you up a little so you could hold on to him better.

“You decide,” he said, once everything was where he wanted it. “You can just pull me in and you decide exactly how fast or slow I go. And if anything doesn’t feel good—”

You interrupted him with a kiss, then looked at him again.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice quiet. Sam looked confused. “I told you," he replied. "You don’t have anything to thank me for." You shook your head.

“I just wanted to say it,” you replied, a little bashful. Then you took a deep breath, relaxing yourself. You weren’t nervous exactly, but the anticipation was a different matter. You licked your lips then, and nodded.

“Okay,” you said, “I’m ready.” Sam kissed you again, then leaned back just far enough that he could see your face.

He started pushing forward, and you could feel his head slip between your folds. There was some resistance as he adjusted his angle and then you felt him press into you, the angle of your lower body making it easier.

It didn’t hurt, the feeling simply a little strange, unusual. He stopped after a second, checking your face.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Okay,” you nodded, and then couldn’t help but grin.

“Remember,” Sam said. “You decide.” You nodded, then started pulling him closer with your legs hooked around him. He slipped deeper into you, making you feel a stretch now that wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Sam swallowed, then pulled back a little again, only to let you pull him in again. You continued this way, you pulling Sam in further, him pulling out again, and that way you slowly brought him closer.

At some point, one of Sam’s hands came out from behind your back, dropping to your pussy and he very gently started massaging your clit.

“How does that feel?” he asked, his voice sounding broken. You searched your body for the answer. Good. It felt good. It felt good to have Sam inside of you.

“Good,” you said, looking into his eyes. You pulled on Sam, trying to get him to move further into you, but he stopped you.

“Let’s just work with this, okay?” he said, smiling at you. “I want all of you, Sam,” you said, realizing your own voice was breaking a little.

“You’ll get it,” he said, making a wonderful rush run through you. “But let’s start with this. I’m gonna pull out and then push into you again, and I’m gonna go slow, and you tell me if you want me to be faster, alright?” You nodded.

His words were having quite the effect on you, hearing him talk about what he was doing to you somehow adding to the stimulation. He slowly pulled out of you until only his head remained inside of you, and when he pushed in again, his cock touched something inside you that made you shiver.

Sam was going slow, so slow, his touch on your clit just as slow and gentle. His thickness inside you didn’t hurt, but it felt like he was opening up something inside you, a different kind of need and desire that you had never felt before. Like a part of you was missing and Sam was giving it back to you. You held him close, pushing your face against his.

“Sam,” you said and it was a whimper.

“Slower?” he asked, immediately.

“No,” you said, almost not recognizing your own voice with how much want there was in it. “Just want more of you.”

Sam looked at you for a second, then kissed you while he slowly pushed himself into you again. He didn’t go deeper, but his next stroke came just a little faster, while the petting of your clit became a little more intense. You whined again, at the wonderful feeling of him.

Of course, you thought. It all made sense now. You could have been with a thousand men before Sam and still this would have felt like the first time. Because you’d never felt about anyone the way you did about Sam, never trusted anyone as much.

“You feel so amazing,” you panted against him. Sam sighed, pressing his forehead against yours. You felt the slow rising pleasure of an orgasm building again.

“Sam, can, mmh, can you go faster?” you asked, feeling like you had an itch inside you that only he could scratch. Sam nodded, picking up his pace a little.

“Like that?” he asked, voice low. You nodded, as his cock kept sparking that strange feeling of fullness, of being closed and warm and taken care of, in you.

“Yes,” you breathed out. Your eyes had fallen shut at some point, so concentrated were you on feeling Sam, that you gasped when you opened them now and saw him. Sam was tensed, all his concentration on how he was moving in you and how he was touching you. His brow was in deep furrows and he looked almost like he was in pain.

“Sam?” you asked and he looked up at you, features immediately softening. “Are you okay?” He nodded, needing to take a breath before he could answer.

“I’m good, you just,” he said, a groan interrupting him, “you just feel so, fuck, you feel so good.” His breathing was stuttering and he looked beautiful. The thought that it was because of you, that you and your body were making him feel this way, made you clench around him. Sam almost hissed, his strokes stuttering before he held himself still.

“I need…” he said, but didn’t continue. You ran a hand into his hair. “I’m about to come, I need to stop,” he finally forced out. You pulled him close.

“Don’t stop, Sam, please.” Sam’s chest contracted as he looked down at you.

“Can you, uhm,” he started, “can you maybe touch yourself? I would do it but I think if I can concentrate…”

Your hand was already moving down your body, meeting his, gently running over his wonderful fingers and then replacing them. Sam moved his hand up instead, holding himself up with both arms now. Then he started slowly moving again, and you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed that feeling, in those few seconds you hadn’t felt it.

“Yes, oh yes,” you breathed as you started circling your clit, and Sam closed his eyes.

“You sound so hot,” he ground out. Unable to help yourself, you moved your mouth to his ear. “You feel so good, Sam, I never thought it could be like this.” Sam groaned, kissed you. You were flying higher and higher, picking up the pace on your clit while Sam kept gently fucking into you.

“Sam, I’m gonna—“ you moaned, “I think I’m gonna come again.” Sam nodded against you.

“I want to feel you,” he panted. You kept rubbing, the rhythm steady and your wetness and your muscle contractions made Sam slip that little bit deeper into you. Just then, another whine left you, and then you felt it, Sam filling you where previously there had been nothing, feeling so right, so perfect. He pulled out again, his head bumping into that special place inside of you as he pushed himself back into you and then you came.

It was different, Sam’s cock there to push back against your clenching, and you were intensely aware of your body, how you were shaking, little moans dropping from you.

Sam clenched his jaw at the way you were squeezing him and while you were still in the throes of your orgasm, he leaned down, pressing his face against the side of yours, his shoulders tensing as he moaned against you, then suddenly held still. You could feel his stomach muscles contract where they were pressing against your arm that was still between your legs, and then you felt a warmth spread in you.

A second later you pulled your arm out from underneath Sam, instead wrapping it around his back. Sam rolled himself sideways a little so he wouldn’t have to hold himself up anymore, making sure he gently pulled out of you first.

You felt the loss of him and when he laid down next to you, your arms immediately went around him again, kissing him almost desperately. He rubbed his hands over your back. Your body was exhausted, buzzing, but you didn’t have your fill of Sam yet. You weren’t sure if you ever would.

You kept kissing him, a little whimper escaping you. Sam pulled you away from him even though you were trying to hold onto him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and worried.

“Yes,” you breathed, nodding vigorously. “I just can’t get enough of you.” Sam looked at you, emotion in his face as he leaned in and kissed you, his hands gently running over you. You felt your breathing slow, your body relaxing. You moved your head, laying it on Sam’s arm, so you could still look at him.

“That was incredible,” you muttered, running your fingers over his lips. Sam smiled, petting your cheek.

“I…” he said, but stopped himself.

“What?” you said, moving closer to him. You saw the battle behind Sam’s eyes. Finally he sighed.

“I want you,” he said. He seemed immediately unhappy with what he’d said, breathing out through his nose, looking into the distance to find the words he was searching. “I mean,” he said, correcting himself, “I don’t know how to say it. I just want to spend all of my time with you. I want to keep making love to you.” Then he laughed a little at himself. “Like, it pisses me off that there might be days where we’re not together, you know? Where we don’t see each other for a few hours.” He turned back to you. “Does that make any sense?” he asked. You nodded.

“It does,” you answered. “I feel the same way, but Sam," and at that you stroked his cheek and couldn’t help but grin. “You’re not getting rid of me.”

At your words, Sam pulled you in, kissed you again. He kissed you for a long time, softly, nipping at you, his hands running over your body, yours over his, without a goal, just to feel each other, get to know the other.

Eventually you got up to use the bathroom, Sam barely letting you go. When you came back, he pulled you close, pressing your back against his broad chest.

“I missed you,” he whispered into your ear, and you grinned. You had missed him too.

Eventually you both fell asleep, tangled up and close and your breathing synced.

You woke a few hours later, disoriented by the big warm thing next to you. A second later you remembered it was Sam, and a rush of such intense love went through you that you could have cried.

Instead you pushed yourself against him, kissing his jaw. Sam woke up slowly and you watched him, wanting to see everything, to know everything about how he looked, how he came back from sleep.

When he understood what was happening he pulled you in, kissing you immediately. Soon you felt him grow hard against you, felt yourself react as well. You felt a little sore, and a little empty, like your body had made room for Sam the way your heart had.

You almost rolled your eyes at your own thoughts. To distract yourself, you let your hand wander down Sam’s body.

“Now,” you said quietly and Sam looked into your eyes, a glimmer there. “Here’s some stuff I always wanted to try.” 

[justnatoka]

If anything happened to you...

Sinclair brothers x Fem! Reader

A/n: I was torn if I should keep this as one fic, but it was just too enticing to split it into two at this point in the story. It was the perfect place to do it, and I couldn't resist. Sorry not sorry.

Word count: 2.2k

Warning: sexual innuendos but nothing else really

Summary: Stay out of sight and out of trouble. That's what Bo always tells you when they are dealing with visitors. But sometimes things don't go as planned.

Part 1/2

Next part

The call came at around 9. You and Bo decided to have a lazy morning, and that meant you were still in bed. You groaned as the obnoxious sound filled the quiet of the room, and Bo’s arm tightened around your waist. He reached over you with the other one, plucking the offending device from the nightstand and glanced at the caller ID. He cursed under his breath and rolled over, letting go of you in the process as he sat up. You let out a whine at the loss of his warmth against you.

“I know, sweetheart, hold on,” he muttered before picking up.

“What?” he barked into the phone.

There was a few moments of silence while he listened, then a “How many?”

You turned around, staring at his back, at the subtle movement of his muscles tensing up. He glanced back at you, still listening intently.

“When?” he asked.

After another moment, a smirk grew on his face. “Alright, we’ll get ready. But you have to explain to our sweetheart why she has to spend the rest of the morning alone in bed.”

The teasing tone of his voice made you roll your eyes as he handed the phone to you.

“Mornin’, sweetpea!” Lester’s cheerful tone brought a smile to your face.

“Hey, Les! What’s going on?”

“A group of college kids headed your way. Five of ‘em.”

You huffed. “But I was having such a nice nap.”

“I know, sweetpea, I know.” His voice turned mischievous. “I mean, you could come over while the boys deal with ‘em. We could nap and cuddle all you want. Or we could snuggle up in my bed too.”

You could almost see him grinning on the other end of the line, the suggestion in his words not lost on you.

“Maybe I will,” you teased back, and he let out a throaty chuckle.

“Don’ play with me, darlin’, you might end up spanked.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” you giggled, your face turning hot when you noticed Bo staring at you with his eyebrows raised.

“Gotta go, Les. See you later.”

“Alrigh’. Stay safe,” he replied, his voice turning serious for a second.

“You too,” you said softly, then ended the call.

Bo looked at you expectantly.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice. “So that’s what you two get up to when you’re alone? You know, sweetheart, if you wanted to be spanked you don’t have to go all the way to Lester, you can just ask me.”

By now he had a shit eating grin on his face, and you were about ready to combust. Instead, you just threw a pillow at him, which he dodged with ease. He was laughing all the way out the door. You heard him bang on Vincent’s, shouting at him to get up because they got work to do.

You sank back into the sheets, opting to laze around a bit more before getting up and starting your day. After a little while Bo came back, now in his work clothes with his baseball hat on his head. You were still amazed at how good he looked even when wearing something so simple. He must have seen something in your eyes, because his smirk grew wider as he approached.

“See something you like?” he asked, leaning down and caging you between his arms.

“Always,” you smiled back, and sighed when his lips pressed against yours.

His kiss was slow, reeling back his hunger for once, but not any less meaningful. It was a promise that he will come back to you alive and in one piece. The same promise he gave you every time he went hunting. And he managed to always keep it so far, minor injuries aside.

“Stay out of sight and out of trouble,” he warned when he drew back. There was a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. He didn’t have to say it, you knew what he was thinking. If anything happened to you… It was always a possibility, and you were all too aware of it.

You gave him a warm smile, a sign of reassurance. “I know.”

With that, he was out the door.

A few minutes later, while you were getting dressed, Vincent appeared at the door. You could feel his eyes rake over your bare legs as you pulled on a long sleeve, one of his as he realized a moment later, its length reaching around your mid-thigh. He couldn’t keep his hands off you any longer. He crossed the room in a few big steps and hugged you from behind, his wide frame completely enveloping you, and he let out a sigh as he nuzzled your hair. You just chuckled at his antics and brought one of his big hands to your lips, pressing a small greeting kiss to the back of it.

“Morning, Vinny.”

He just grunted in reply.

“You heard it from Bo, haven’t you?”

You felt him nodding, and his arms around you tightened.

“Be careful out there, okay?”

He nodded again, his hold on you loosening so you could turn around to look at him. You cupped his face in your hands, hidden behind his mask, and as he leaned down, you breathed a kiss against the artificial lips. His eye fluttered closed, bringing you even closer, and you melted into his embrace.

You liked these quiet moments you had with the boys. At times like these, you could almost forget about everything, about their goal, about the bodies strewn around town, forever caged in wax, about what they were about to do to this group of college students. It was something you got used to of course, it was the reality of living in Ambrose and having a relationship with the Sinclair brothers. That didn’t mean there weren’t some moments when you wished it could be different.

Eventually, you had to let go of Vincent as well. You whispered the same words of “Stay safe” you said to the other two. When you looked in his eye, you could tell that he was smiling under his mask. He gave your hand one more squeeze before he walked out the door.

It was a little after 11 when you heard the first scream. You were in the kitchen, doing dishes, and you peered out the window to see if you can catch any movement. The voice sounded female, and you guessed it likely came from the direction of the House of Wax. You couldn’t see anything, but you still dried your hands and went around downstairs, looking through all the windows just to make sure. You thought you could see something further down in town, maybe a man running, but the next second it was out of sight. Now it was completely silent, and you didn’t spot anyone approaching the house.

You decided not to risk it anyway, and taking a book with you, you made your way down into the basement. You settled down on the bed Vincent kept down there in his workshop, and waited for one of your boys to come looking for you, telling you that it was all over.

It wasn’t them, however, who came running down the stairs, but a group of two guys and a girl. All of them were bruised and bloodied, and you could only hope that all of the blood on them was theirs. One of the guys, the bigger of the two, had a nasty cut on his face, and you took in his bruised knuckles. He was clearly hitting something, or someone, pretty hard not long ago. The other one was limping, and was supported by the girl who also had a few cuts of her.

“I told you I hit one of them, I swear,” the big guy yelled, his voice a mixture of anger and fear.

You saw the crossbow in his hand and your stomach dropped. Did one of them get shot? Who? And how serious is it? Your mind started reeling. You didn’t even realize that you gasped until they all turned to you.

Everyone froze. Then the girl started talking.

“Oh god, how long have they been keeping you in this torture dungeon?”

It took you a moment to realize she thought you were one of their victims as well. You glanced at the guy with the crossbow. Even if he hadn’t used one before, it would be hard to miss at this distance. If they found out you were with the boys, they would surely turn on you in an instant. So you decided to play along.

“Two months, I think,” you lied. There was no need to fake the tremble in your voice as you said it. Your adrenaline was through the roof.

“Why are you not tied up or something? You seem awfully cozy down here,” the big guy commented, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Jared, don’t be an ass,” the girl hissed at him.

“No, Misty, it’s a valid question. There was nothing blocking the entrance to the basement. She could have walked out whenever she wanted,” the other boy reasoned.

“They told me they’ll kill me if I try to run. There were others,” you started, not even having to lie about this part. You’ve seen the polaroids in the auto shop. Although, that was before your time here. “Other girls.”

“What happened to them?” Misty whispered.

“They didn’t make it. You’ve probably seen them somewhere in town, frozen in wax.”

All of them shuddered.

“Alright, we’re taking her with us,” the guy with the limp told his friends. He turned back to you with a sympathetic smile. “I’m Casey. And as you already know, these are Jared and Misty.”

You exchanged silent nods.

“We gotta go. Those freaks could be here any minute,” Jared grunted, and you bit your tongue before you could say anything that could get you in even bigger trouble.

Misty grabbed your arm and pulled you along with them, running through the corridors of the underground tunnels. Your mind was racing a mile a minute, all the while you kept an eye on that crossbow. As soon as you reached the outside, you had to find a chance to slip away.

You’ve never got this close to any of the visitors before, never had to think about ways to protect yourself. To be honest, you were terrified. You were scared of what these people would do if they found out you were with the guys who killed their friends, scared that one of your boys would do something stupid and get themselves hurt if they saw these people dragging you along. Hell, you were scared one of them got badly hurt already. The quiet morning you shared with them seemed so far away at this point.

The tunnel led up into the House of Wax. Even as you creeped out the front door and down the street, your brain was frantically searching for a way out of this whole situation. When you were nearing the edge of town, you really started panicking.

“We can’t go that way,” you blurted out, tearing your arm out of Misty’s hand with a bit more force than needed.

They all stared at you bewildered.

“What do you mean?” Jared barked.

“If we leave town that way it will be obvious where we went. But if we go through the woods,” you motioned towards the line of trees not far ahead, “we can hide and shake them off.”

“Are you crazy? We get lost in those woods and we’re as good as dead,” Jared snapped at you.

“He’s right,” Casey agreed with him a second time today. “Even if it’s more risky, at least we know where we’re going.”

It was no good. If you managed to convince them to go into the woods, you had a hundred chances to separate from them and run back to town. You did know your way around, thanks to Lester. This was not an argument that you could win, however. You were rapidly losing control.

When Misty moved to grab your hand again, you took a step back.

“What are you doing?” she asked, confused.

You took a deep breath. This is going to be extremely stupid. “I’m not going with you.”

They looked at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“Come on, don’t be stupid. Those guys will be here any second, and they will hurt you,” Casey reasoned.

“No, they won’t,” you said and took another step back.

“Of course they will! They are psychos! Just come with us and you will be safe,” Misty pleaded.

You shook your head. “They won’t hurt me,” you repeated stubbornly.

Now something changed in Casey’s eyes, and he looked at you with nothing but pity.

“Poor girl. Those freaks really did a number on her.”

Before you even had a chance to understand what he meant, there was a shout coming from the direction of the town. Looking back, you saw Bo and Vincent running towards you. You let out a sigh of relief. At least it seemed like they weren’t seriously hurt.

Even from so far away, it was clear Bo was full of unfiltered rage. Then his expression changed, and you saw something you’ve only seen on him a couple of times. Fear.

There was a commotion behind you, then you felt something hit the back of your head, hard. The last thing you sensed before you blacked out was Bo’s voice as he shouted your name.

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