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angelplummie · 1 year

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OKAY FIRST OF ALL HEY BABY IVE MISSED YOU SO MUCH

And yesssss I see the update where you’re writing for killing stalking!!! 😩😩😩😩😩😩😩 literally going to die I’m so happy

BUT OKAY, a chubby reader (yk your girl thicc 🤪) yandere/toxic relationship/SMUTTT with Sangwoo where he cheats on Y/n all the time but she’s cocky because he always comes back to them. Then one day Sangwoo gets upset by Y/n’s cockiness and he teaches her a lesson…..

I LOVE YOU BABE AND MUAHHH I MISSED YOU

LOSING YOU

OH SANGWOON X FEM!CHUBBY!READER

cw: degrading, dubcon, implied kidnapping, references to murder, infidelity, he’s just super mean and weird, jealousy, threats of murder

a/n: this one is so fucking late and i’m sorry but i did it! this is going to flop because i never post and it’s a weird one so reblog please i love you

“Y/N? You awake?”

Of course you are, you always wait for him.

“Yes. You’re back late.”

Your voice was quiet with fatigue, but he could hear you alright as he removed his clothes and dropped them beside the bed. You had your back to him, but you could hear the soft thud of his jeans coming down to the hardwood floor, you could hear his shirt land on the edge of the bed. The house was eerily quiet when he wasn’t there, you didn’t like when he was gone. He always came back though. Always.

“Yeah, I was talking to this girl, Jieun. She goes to the same university as me.”

He lifted the covers and slotted himself behind you, your ass tucked right into his crotch, and he slung his big arm across your chest. You could smell him, he reeked of alcohol and girl. You’re sure if you turned around you would see his neck littered in hickeys, the top of his shoulders covered in nail marks. It was the same every time he went out, but what did that matter?

Those girls may think they’ve done it, gotten sangwoo to ’open up’, show them the ‘real him’, but they’re wrong. They’re all wrong. Only you know sangwoo, the real him. He probably tells all those girls about some version of his tragic past, his abusive father, his suicidal mother, and they think they know all there is to know about him. Until the next day and there’s parts of them rotting in sangwoo’s trunk.

You know everything. And you love him anyway. You are the only one for him, and you know it. He always comes back. You know he belongs to you. With you. He needs you like air, every day he comes home and fucks you like an animal, holds you tight, kisses you, he’s even soft with you, real sappy and disgusting. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that he likes you a lot, he just... has a short attention span. You’re all he thinks of when he gets home, and it’s not like he really thinks about the other girls. You know it means less than nothing to him with them, and that’s all that matters. And when they’re dead afterwards, there no competition of who he likes more. You were never a jealous type anyway.

“I had sex with her in the men’s bathroom. From behind, against the wall. Then up against the mirror.”

Well, that was new.

“Oh?” you said, ”Did you have fun?”

He never told you the details of his flings, he just didn’t try to hide them, so this was strange. Maybe it was a close call with the authorities and he’s anxious about it.

You feel an curt exhale on your back.

“Of course I had fun. She’s not dead if that’s what you’re thinking. We just fucked.”

Why was sangwoo being so strange?

“Ok,” you turned around to face him, still in his hold. You noticed it’s getting tighter. Just as you thought, you could see blotchy pink hickeys on his neck in the dimming light. His face was neutral, unreadable looking down at you. You can’t lie, he was intimidating like this. To survive sangwoo, to live with him, you have to read him, and read him you cannot.

“Are you alright sangwoo?”

“Obviously,” he snapped, before sighing,

”Don’t you even want to have sex?”

You nearly laughed, but it’s in your best interest not to.

“You mean right now? Aren’t you tired?”

“No I’m not tired!” his voice booms, and you flinch against the covers.

He rolled you over to your back and now he loomed above you, something burning in his eyes. His hands were either side of your face, and his knees caged in your body, tapering in at the thighs, pushing the fat around to a near painful squeeze.

“Whats wrong with you? Aren’t you angry? I fucked someone else, stupid bitch.”

Mouth slightly agape, you tried to process. You didn’t even react to the name calling anymore, although the throb of hurt would never go away.

“You want me to be angry with you?”

“No, of course I don’t. I just want to know why you’re so ok that I cheated on you.”

You had absolutely no idea what was going on, and you were afraid to ask.

Isn’t this every mans dream? A girl that doesn’t care when he sleeps around? What’s his problem?

“Sangwoo...” you breathed, struggling to find the words. You were so confused.

“You always come back,” you wait a second, and when he doesn’t seem to be appeased, you continue, “I don’t care because you always come back to me. I know you like me best, that’s all I care about.”

His frown falters, momentarily, before a meaner, colder look takes his face. In the darkness he’s still beautiful and terrifying.

He hated that you make him burn. Sangwoo doesn’t burn for anyone, he burns people. And yet, everything about you is so... he can’t put it into words how he needs you. The thought of you with another man makes him close to violence, very close. So why can’t you do the same? Why don’t you care? He knows you love him, he isn’t an idiot. But... you aren’t showing it how he wants. Maybe you’ve gotten a little too comfortable. Maybe he needs to rectify that.

“You think I need you that much?” his voice had dropped an octave, gotten quieter. You knew to be careful now.

“No, but-“

“You do, don’t you? You think I’m your lovesick puppy? You think you’re in control?”

“Sangwoo, you’re not-“

“Don’t try and deny it.” his face was blank, totally blank, eyes boring into yours. He stares at you a while longer, and when he got no reply, he continued.

“Well, you’re wrong Y/N. I don’t need you. You need me.”

“I know Sangwoo, I do need you,” your voice shook, heat of the bed doing nothing to quell the cold creeping up your spine.

“Do you think you’re the only one that makes me cum?”

“No, but-“

“But I’m the only one that makes you cum?”

“Well, yes-“

“So what are you so smug about? Get up.”

He leant back, away from you to let you obey him, and got up slowly, towering above you. He stood expectantly, and you stared up at him from the mattress, not quite sure what to think.

“I said, get up,” his tone was sharp, it was hard to disobey.

You pushed yourself up as fast as you could manage, rocking gently to your feet. Your arms hung awkwardly at your sides, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. His glare was unforgiving, but you couldn’t deny the throb in your clit at the anticipation.

“Turn around.”

And you did, a thrill running through your body. You were still stood stock still when he pried your arms from your sides and he pushed you against the wall, body pressing up against you. It hurt a little, but he was quick to make you forget.

Hands gripping your waist, he ground himself against your plump ass. Your hands were in front of you, bracing yourself against the wall. You made chopped breaths and little whimpers as he groaned into your skin, getting more and more annoyed at you; you drive him insane, why are you so calm? Why can’t you be like he is? You should be stupider, need him more. What the fuck is wrong with you?

He stopped grinding his erection on you all of a sudden, grip not relaxing for a second. Your eyes darted around the icy dark, heart thundering in your chest, face still against the wall.

“Sangwoo...” you whimpered, and he could feel the heart beat of your fat little pussy, “please, keep going.”

He huffed from his nose and his breathe ran down you neck once again.

“Then beg.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you stopped to process what he had said.

“Are you deaf? I told you to beg. Beg for me if you really want me that bad. Prove it.”

“Oh!”, you started as it clicked in your head, and the throbbing of your pussy became insatiable,”Please Sangwoo! Please, give it to me, please! I need you, please!”

He smiled at the whininess in your voice, the desperation. The need.

“I still don’t know if you deserve it,” he had taken on a playful tone now, temper seemingly subdued by your little display.

“Sangwoo!” you whined in protest, desperately pushing back into him. He groaned breathily at the feeling of your ass pressed right into him, the fat cushioning his cock teasingly.

His dick throbbed and he gave in,

“Fine, I’ll give it to you. You really are pathetic you know that?”

And he yanked down your tiny little pyjama shorts, to find your bare pussy underneath.

“Anything I tell you to do you do it.”

Your eyes squeezed shut and you yelped when he delivers a sharp slap between your legs, spread awkwardly open for him against the wall.

“But you still act like your better than me.”

He pressed against the small of your back with one hand, keeping you squashed tightly against the wall, chubby cheeks squishing at the pressure. With the other hand, he hastily undid the zip of his jeans, pulling them down around his thighs. Erection bobbing against your bare ass, he pulled his boxers down to his jeans and you stifled a whimper at the anticipation.

He always got weird like this when he was angry, and mostly you just had to stick it through. He would calm down after he had had his way with you.

Slowly, he lined up, relishing in the little whimpers coming from you. And he pushed in, groaning at how fucking wet you were. It was nearly impossible to go slow, you were so soft and he was angry at you, and yet he did, for fear he would cum too quick if he didn’t.

“You’re not better than me, alright?”

You huff, the stretch of his thick cock making you tense.

“Alright?”

“Yes,” you whined through pouty, drooly lips,”I’m not better than you. I’m sorry Sangwoo, I’m really sorry.”

“tsk,” he gives you one grind of his hips, nestling his enormous cock into you,”You’re just saying that ‘cause you want me to fuck you.”

“No! That’s not it.”

Tears were blurring your vision and you fought with your entire being not to moan, feeling his fat dick rub warm against your insides. He was moving ever so slightly to torment you, make you feel guilty for wanting to moan like a bitch when your poor boyfriend was so upset at you. You knew you had to keep talking, because he still wasn’t moving, and the feeling was enough to drive you mad.

“I love you, Sangwoo, I promise, it’s not-“

But suddenly, he started drawing in and out of you, not slow but not fast either. You let out a gasp of relief, and he smirks behind you.

“Alright, that’s enough outta you. Just take my dick like a good slut. Ohh fuck-“

You squeezed hard and his hips stuttered, pace increasing involuntarily.

He fucked hard into your gummy cunt, and you dripped down onto his balls. Eyes rolling back, he let out a string of grunts right next to your ear, making you shudder.

“See how I got you?” he said breathlessly, gripping the fat of your waist so hard it will probably bruise. The feeling of his breath against your neck made your stomach flip.

“This is just how I was fucking her,” and he drove into you again, grunting.

“I’m fucking you just like I was fucking her.”

You can only whine in response, something he takes as dismay. It pleased him.

“She was tighter,” his balls slap on your clit,”Not such a whore.”

Drool is inched past you lips, but you’ve gone limp in his grasp, only able to brace yourself against the wall. You heard him, but you’re unable to think about what he’s saying. You mumbled,”yeah, yeah, yeah”, he likes to be listened to.

“Maybe I should just get rid of you and keep her instead, maybe she’d be more fucking grateful”

Your breath hitched and there’s a sinking feeling in your stomach. You froze, and he laughed.

“That got your attention, didn’t it?”

You whined as his cock ploughed against your insides, cheek mushing against the wall. But that sinking feeling got deeper.

“Shit,” he hissed, his pace slowing,”I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum inside you.”

You hummed, still panting.

That feeling of dread didn’t fade. It didn’t fade when he came inside you, gruff grunting and a punishing grip on your waist. It didn’t fade as he pulled out, let go of you and let you fall to the ground. It didn’t fade as you felt his presence behind you, staring down at the top of your head.

And it didn’t fade as he walked away, back into bed, called you to him like he loved you. Told you that he loved you, kisses your temple.

And as you crawled into his arms, shaken, sweating, Sangwoo smiles. You need him to keep you alive.

You need him.

His hand rested over your chest, he could feel your heart rate. He could feel your fear. And it made him happy.

You were as afraid of losing him as he was of losing you.

#oh sangwoo #sangwoo x reader #sangwoo x femreader #sangwoo x f!reader #killing stalking #killing stalking fic #killing stalking x reader #ks fic #ks sangwoo #tw dubcon #tw jealousy #death threats #please people see this i’m begging u #sangwoo thirst #sangwoo smut #killing stalking smut #killing stalking thirst #oh sangwoo x reader

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blondeboyfriend · 1 year

Text

𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Sangwoo Oh x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] I'm sorry. [ SYNOPSIS ] Desperate for guidance you turn to your parish's beloved priest. [ WORD COUNT ] 5.2k [ CONTENT ] DARK CONTENT, modern AU, y/n wears a dress, sacrilege (I sexualize Saint Sebastian among other things), violence, gore, noncon, sadomasochism, oral sex (m + f receiving), facial, vaginal fingering, virginity loss, alcohol, drugging, manipulation, gaslighting, degradation (he calls you a bitch and a slut), strength kink, size kink, creampie, blood, cannibalism, murder.

Mass was the only thing you looked forward to. All week you would anxiously await Sunday morning, unable to sleep. Sitting in the pews, hanging on your priest’s words was the only time you felt even a modicum of joy. It was a sanctuary, a place untainted by the trappings of the world.

The world was cruel and unforgiving, secular and obscene, a temptress. It stirred up the wanton feelings you tried to keep buried. Its lax rules and unrestrained passions marred you, kept you away from God’s shining light. However you never considered yourself wholly devoted to God; your relationship was always on shaky ground. Even as a kid you doubted your place in the church. The darkness lurking inside you convinced you that you weren’t worthy.

Your love of your family trumped your love of Christ. You coveted the riches of your neighbors, their fancy cars and their fashionable yet tasteful clothing. You were lazy, haunted by the illnesses you feigned as a child so you could miss school. You felt envious of your peers. Being a good Catholic came so naturally to them. Why was it such a struggle for you? Why were you cursed to wrestle with Satan?

For the longest time you kept your struggle to yourself. Sometimes you even fantasized about leaving it all behind. God wouldn’t miss a heathen, especially one constantly fighting the disgusting beast inside them. There was no point of keeping up the charade if you were so bad at it.

But that all changed when Father Sangwoo took over your parish. He was young for a priest, maybe a few years older than you at most. You constantly found yourself gazing at him during service. His voice was deep and reassuring. He was tall and had broad shoulders. He was an image of perfection, though he did look perpetually sleep deprived. His beauty was enough to make you recommit yourself to the Lord.

This revived fervor came with a new shade of self-loathing. You spent every Saturday night fingering yourself and whimpering his name. Lusting after a priest was unforgivable. But you couldn’t help it; you were insatiable.

This loathed hunger gave you the courage to linger around after mass though, your eyes fixed on Father Sangwoo. You never uttered a word or even approached him. You knew you’d end up saying something stupid. Lurking was the only intimacy you could handle. Having his direct attention would be agonizing. It’d bring you to your knees.

Usually you were content with this arrangement, but sitting in the back of the pews while two women preened him was driving you crazy. One fastened a loose button on his shirt. Another plucked a stray hair off his shoulder. You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palm. They didn’t deserve to touch him.

You were so absorbed by your silent rage you didn’t notice him staring back at you. You flinched as your eyes met his. You tried to get up, but nearly tripped over your own foot. Your face was hot as you escaped, baptized by the crisp morning air.

“We’ll see you next Sunday, Father,” one of the women said in a sing-song voice as she brushed past you.

“We’ll see you next Sunday, Father,” you repeated under your breath mockingly.

A weighty hand grabbed a hold of your shoulder, pulling you out of your hateful haze.

“What was that?” Father Sangwoo asked, freezing you on the spot.

Your nerves got the better of you and you laughed. “It was nothing.”

You turned around to face him. He tilted his head to the side, his concerned look left you feeling exposed. It was as if he could see through you, like he could peel back whatever lies you were desperately trying to craft.

“I was just talking to myself.”

“Well that was obvious. But you didn’t answer my question. What were you saying?” he asked with a smile.

We’ll see you next Sunday, Father. You repeated the words over and over in your head, trying to conjure up a sentence that had a similar ring to it. It was maddening. Nothing came to mind. It was as if you had never spoken in your life.

“I… I said… I was saying—”

“Father!” an old woman shouted as she scurried out of the church. “There’s a bat in there!”

“Not again,” he sighed.

You went to leave but he latched onto your wrist. His grip made your joints pop.

“I’ve noticed you hanging around after service. It has me a little concerned.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh tha—that’s because I’m waiting for my ride.”

“Then why do I always see you walking down to the bus stop?”

“That’s where they get me!” you said, trying to pull your wrist out of his hand.

“That doesn’t explain why you look so miserable all the time.”

“Miserable?” you repeated in a small voice, finally freeing yourself from his grasp.

You felt ill. You always assumed you kept your anguish hidden on Sundays.

“I only noticed because I feel like that more often than not. If you ever need someone to talk to that understands, I’m here for you.”

It sounded strangely rehearsed, like he was acting in a play. But that could have been because speaking to him felt unreal. You never planned on getting this close to him.

“Father! The bat!!” the old woman called out impatiently.

“I’m on it!” He turned his attention back towards you, his gaze gentle. “Why don’t you come by the rectory tonight?”

“Me?”

He nodded. “You deserve my full attention.”

“I do?”

He patted you on the head. “Yes. I want to help you in any way I can. I hate to see any of my children so upset.”

“Fa—”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he replied, disappearing into the church.

You stood, mouth agape. He had noticed you. This whole time he knew you were hanging around like a kicked puppy, watching him with sad eyes. You felt so exposed. But a part of you was elated. He wanted to be there for you. It was like a dream come true despite the anxiety it agitated.

The day crawled by. You felt like time slowed down to spite you. You paced around, practicing what you were going to say. Making a fool of yourself wasn’t an option. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you messed everything up.

Once the sun began to set you started to get ready. You dug through your closet, desperate to find something cute and modest. You weren’t planning on seducing Father Sangwoo or anything; you just wanted to look your best. You decided your best option was a black denim pinafore dress cut at the knee with a boxy white t-shirt underneath. Not too flashy, but not too matronly.

You took the last bus. It was a risky move, but you planned on asking him to drive you home after your talk. There was no way he’d say no. You’d be stranded without his assistance. Plotting to take advantage of his kindness felt bad, but you were greedy. The more time around him the better.

“Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t say anything stupid,” you chanted on your way up the hill.

Seeing the rectory made your stomach hurt, nerves once again getting the better of you. You stood in front of it for several minutes before you found the brave to knock on his door.

“I was starting to think you weren’t going to come,” he said.

The sunset’s warm light made him look angelic. His hair was damp, towel dried by the looks of it. He was dressed incredibly casual in a cozy, chunky sweatshirt and a pair of low hanging sweatpants. You struggled not to stare at the deep, muscular v-cut of his abs.

“You didn’t specify a time so I, uh, just left when it felt night-ish.”

“I said seven o’clock.”

He was lying. You remembered how he proposed. His wording was vague.

“No. You definitely said night.”

The warmth left his eyes, but he maintained his cheery disposition. “I don’t need you telling me what I said.”

You couldn’t imagine why he’d lie about something so benign. Maybe he did say seven and you couldn’t remember. You were pretty on edge during your conversation. It would make sense that your recollection would be tenuous.

You stared at your feet. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said as he let you inside.

The rectory was sparsely decorated. You would never expect a man of God to have lavish material possessions, but Father Sangwoo’s home was barren. There was nothing on the walls except for a wooden crucifix over what you assumed was the door to his bedroom.

It smelled fetid, absolutely reeking of cigarettes. The walls were stained a nauseating yellow. Everything looked worn. You wondered if maybe the furniture was handed down from the previous priest. You tried to not let it phase you, but you couldn’t help but be alarmed by the chef’s knife stabbed into his dining room table. It was sticking straight up, erect in its posture.

“Take a seat.”

His couch sat low to the ground and was woefully uncomfortable. There were cigarette burns in the cushions which you willed yourself to ignore. In front of it was a round wooden table with a dying succulent in the middle.

He took a seat beside you, his body broaching your personal space. “So,” he said. “What’s bothering you?”

“Um. Where do I begin…”

“I don’t know. Maybe the beginning.”

His tone was still sweet, but there was a bite to it. He was probably just trying to be funny, but you didn’t feel familiar enough with him to joke around like that.

“I’ve never felt as close to God as I should.”

“And why is that?”

“I don’t know.” You paused; you couldn’t remember any of the things you had rehearsed earlier. “I’ve never felt good enough. I feel… unworthy. I want to be closer to God, but I don’t deserve it.”

He frowned. “What makes you think you don’t deserve it?”

Your palms were clammy. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

“I—uh. It’s like… I just—”

“You need to loosen up,” he interrupted.

You felt ashamed for being so uptight. He looked so bored by you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he sighed as he got up.

Your heart was in your throat as he walked past the knife. For a brief moment you had the clearest image of him grabbing it and lunging at you. You felt so guilty when he left it alone.

He came back with two shot glasses and a sizable bottle of soju. He lazily shook the bottle before cracking it open.

“Grab a glass.”

You looked at the shot glasses on the table. One looked dustier than the other. You went to grab the cleaner looking one.

“Not that one.”

You grabbed the other glass. You looked at the bottom of the glass and saw what looked like powder.

“It looks a little dirty,” you said, holding it out.

He glanced at it. “I don’t see anything.”

“Really? It—”

“Do I look like someone that would offer a guest a dirty glass?” he laughed.

You shook your head and watched him fill it. Your cheeks felt hot.

“This is my first time,” you blurted out.

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’m the perfect person to break you in.”

You laughed nervously and tried to avert his gaze. It was like having a spotlight on you. The glass felt so heavy in your hands. You weren’t sure how to wield it. You never saw your parents drink alcohol, excluding the Eucharist. There was no point of reference so you knocked it back in one gulp.

It didn’t taste nearly as bad as you were expecting. It was crisp with a faint sweetness. The finish was bitter. You felt like something had coated your mouth. You didn’t like it.

“Impressive,” he said smiling. “Have another.”

You held out your glass and watched him pour you another drink. You drank it just as fast the first time. You were pleased that aftertaste was pleasantly astringent rather than bitter. You went to set your glass down, but he poured you another drink. You didn’t want to be impolite so you accepted it.

“Aren’t you going to have any?”

“I will when you pour me some.”

You wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” you said, taking the bottle from him. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Your hands trembled as you served him. It didn’t help that he was watching you so intently.

“That’s obvious.” He took a sip and set the glass down. “Now tell me why you don’t deserve to be close to God.”

“I’m a bad person. I mean, maybe I’m not. But I feel like I am. I’m jealous of everyone. And nothing makes me happy so I just never do anything… which makes me feel worse. I don’t know. I feel like I’m bad at loving God and cherishing his gifts no matter how hard I try. And—this is so ridiculous—but If I can’t be the best at it, why even bother?”

“That is ridiculous,” he said, pouring you another shot.

“I know. I know. And that’s why I never wa—wanna talk about it. It’s so stupid. It’s not a competition. I tell myself that all the time, but it doesn’t stop me from comparing myself to others. It makes me wanna give up. But I’d feel so lost without the church and the world is so… overwhelming. I get swept up in the temptations. I’m not strong enough. Not strong enough to leave. Not strong enough to survive. I’m stuck.”

“Temptations? Like what exactly?”

You swallowed hard. “Uh. Um. You know… people.”

He poured you another shot. You drank it down happily, but noticed he still hadn’t finished his.

“They’re…” You let out an embarrassed laugh. “I get urges.”

He smirked. “Everyone has those.”

“Do you?”

“I said everyone, didn’t I?”

Your cheeks were on fire. You wanted to bury your face in your hands, but your arms were too heavy.

“What do you do about these urges?” he asked.

“Father, I’m not sure we should talk about that.”

“I can’t help you if you keep things for me.”

“… I don’t act on them. I wanna wait until I’m married. But… sometimes at night I…I can’t. It’s too embarrassing.”

He leaned in. “You touch yourself, don’t you?”

You started feeling woozy. “I know I shouldn’t, but I don’t know what else I’m su—supposed to do.”

“You can always find someone else to do it for you.”

“Isn’t that even worse?” you slurred.

“It depends on the person.”

He put his hand on your thigh. Your head was swimming. Your body felt heavier by the second. It was like you were slowly descending into an abyss. He slipped his hand under your dress. You closed your thighs and cursed the wet spot blossoming between your legs. You didn’t want this. Fantasizing was one thing. Living them out was terrifying. If you fooled around with a priest, you would burn in Hell for eternity.

You tried to brush his hand away. “Don’t.”

“Shssh. Let me help you.”

He lifted up your dress and opened your thighs. You winced as he rubbed the wet patch on your underwear.

“I’m serious. Stop.”

“Don’t be a tease.”

“We’re not allow—”

“Who fucking cares,” he cooed as he forced his hand under your underwear. “Just relax.”

“Father, please.”

He spread apart your folds and slipped his fingers inside you.

“I can’t,” you whimpered, your body tensing up.

He ignored you and rubbed your clit. You hated how good it felt. It made the pain of having his fingers inside you a little bearable, but still the inherent wrongness of it all weighed on you. You tried to keep quiet, but a breathy moan fell from your lips as he applied more pressure.

“Who would you imagine touching you?”

“I don—I don’t wanna say…'' you drawled.

You were losing your grip.

“Quit being a bitch and tell me,” he demanded as he fingered you.

He curled his fingers inside you, grinning as you gasped.

“You.”

He smirked. “Aw. This must be a dream come true then.”

Your body was getting limper by the second. Staying conscious was barely possible. You writhed against the couch as he thrust his fingers deep inside you. You arched your back and rolled your hips against them. You wondered if this was God punishing you for not being devout.

“Look at how easily you’re falling apart.”

You cursed your body for betraying you.

“Don’t. Please,” you begged.

“You think you get to act like a slut and tell me no?”

Tears trickled from the corners of your eyes. You felt like an idiot for crying.

“I’m… I’m s—so sorry, Father.”

“It’s okay.” He wiped away one of your tears. “I forgive you for tempting me.”

He was knuckles deep in your cunt and showed your clit no mercy.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you moaned.

He smirked and pulled you into a kiss. His mouth tasted like cigarettes. You thought about pulling away, but things weren’t so bad now that he couldn’t berate you. It was kind of nice actually. You steadied yourself by placing your hands on his chest. He bit down on your bottom lip before brushing his tongue along the tender skin. You opened your mouth and rolled your tongue against his. You had no idea what you were doing and prayed you were doing a good job.

“Father,” you whimpered. “I don’t feel so good.”

You felt yourself losing consciousness. You could barely keep your eyes open.

“You’re fine,” he said, pressing his lips to your neck. “It’s okay.”

You tried to speak, but all you could do was groan. He sunk his teeth into your neck and you drifted away.

A stinging pain roused you from your daze. You didn’t know where you were or how you ended up there. You could barely open your eyes; it was as if they were glued shut. It was such a simple act, but for some reason it was a herculean effort. Your body felt like lead and your head was throbbing.

You felt a cool breeze against your skin, stronger than a fan or air conditioning. You fought to lift your head, but all you managed to do was roll it slightly to the side, your chin pressing against your chest. You groaned and tried to will yourself out of your haze.

God must have taken pity on you because like clockwork your eyes sprung open. Unfortunately what roused you was the sting of something penetrating your ribs. It was the kind of pain that came on sharp and fast, and radiated through your body.

You groaned and tried to focus. The world was a blur, the light blinding. You were freezing and sore. You tried to swat away whatever had penetrated you, but your arms were bent back and tied at the wrists. All you could do was writhe.

You looked down and saw your body, unclothed and bruised. You choked on your breath when you noticed two wooden arrows jutting out of your thigh. Your stomach was in your throat. You could barely shriek as another arrow whizzed past your ear.

“Whoops.” It was a low voice, eerily familiar. “Don’t move around so much.”

The saccharine tone made you sick. Spit pooled in your mouth. You finally found the strength to lift your head. Your eyes met his. You recognized him. No, you knew him.

“Good morning,” Father Sangwoo said, shooting another arrow at you. It pierced the soft skin of your underarm.

“STOP!” you screamed. “What are you doing?!”

Stomach acid inched up the back of your throat.

He smiled. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You spat at the ground before shaking your head. You couldn’t make sense of anything. The muscles in your shoulders felt like they were on fire. You must’ve been tied up for hours.

You turned your head to the right and saw a dense forest of red pines.

You inhaled sharply. “Why ar—”

He sighed and set his bow down gently. His looming figure made his way over, dread pooling in your stomach. His steps were slow and deliberate. His lips curled into a smirk. He grabbed you by the hair and forced you to look at him.

“Why all the dumb questions?”

“M—my rib—”

He glanced at the arrow sticking out of your ribs. “What about them?”

“Hurts,” you choked out through gritted teeth.

“C’mon. It didn’t even go in that deep.”

He yanked it out. A stream of warm blood flowed from the wound. All you could do was shriek.

“Yell all you want,” he said, licking your blood off the tip. “It’s not like anyone’s around to hear you.”

You decided to take a chance and kept screaming. Your voice cracked as you called out for help. At first he seemed amused, but his expression soon changed to one of disgust and boredom.

“Are you done? Did you get it out of your system?”

You let out one last anguished cry before settling down. Your throat ached.

“I don’t know why you’re so upset. You agreed to this last night.”

You sniffled. “I would never agree to something like this.”

He laughed. “Oh, really? You told me I could while I was filling your ass with my cum. Or at least I think you did. You were saying a lot of weird shit.”

“You’re lying!”

“So what if I am? It’s not like me telling the truth is going to help you.”

His cock was hard, fighting against the cloth of his sweatpants. You started to sob.

“Please just let me go.”

“Why would I do that? You’re my little crybaby.”

“I won’t tell anyone. I won’t say anything,” you pleaded.

You clenched your jaw, grinding your teeth. You desperately tried to ignore the searing pain of the arrows.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m not letting you go.”

You fought against the rope tying you to the tree. You wanted to kick his teeth in. Your fear had mutated into a fury like no other.

“Let. Me. Go.”

“Alright. I’ll let you go.”

He quickly untied your arms. The relief was immense. You could have sworn angels were singing as your shoulders finally relaxed. As you sunk down into the ground he pulled out his erect cock.

“But you gotta suck me off first.”

You immediately opened your mouth. You’d do anything to get out of there.

“Good girl,” he said, stroking his shaft.

It was long and veiny, the slit dripping precum. He guided it into your mouth, groaning as you struggled to take it in. Tears ran down your cheeks and you choked.

“Breathe through your nose.”

You heeded his advice and it helped a little. You were too weak to bob your head so he held the base of your skull and gently thrusted against it. Anytime his cock slipped down your throat you gagged. He looked so smug as he stared down at you, grinning as you struggled to suck.

“You’re so pathetic,” he said as he rutted against your face. “You’re lucky you’re cute or else it’d be annoying.”

You whimpered.

“Is it too much for you?”

He pushed you off of his cock. A thin string of drool clung to it, connecting your mouth to his tip.

“Mhm,” you answered feebly.

“Really? Do you wanna stop?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, I see. So you’re rejecting me? That doesn’t make me feel good considering I listened to you bitch about your life last night. You should be kinder to your host. Didn’t your family teach you any manners?”

“I—But you said you were going to help—”

He laughed. “What is it with you and telling me what I said? You keep doing that and I’m gonna have to bash your skull in.”

Your eyes were so wide you thought they were going to fall out of your head. You refused to believe this was happening. You pretended like you were anywhere else. You tried to ignore the cold breeze pricking your skin, the blood drying on your body, how exposed you felt, and most of all you tried to ignore Father Sangwoo.

“Don’t look so scared.”

You shut your eyes and thought about your warm bed. Your cat was probably curled up at the foot of it, waiting for you to come home and feed him. All it did was make you cry harder. You should have kissed his little forehead before you left. But you were in such a rush, too eager to meet up with the Devil himself.

“Hey.” He kicked you with his bare foot. “Listen to me when I’m talking to you.”

“What?” you sniffled.

“You look terrified. You should smile.”

Your expression didn’t change.

“Do you wanna live?”

You nodded.

“Then smile!” he cheered.

You grimaced.

“Perfect,” he said as he jerked off.

You sat there, grinning like an idiot and trying to ignore the immense pain you were in. He looked down at you with a predator’s gaze, teeth biting into his bottom lip. His breathing grew shallow and he tossed his head back as his cum splattered against your face.

“Do you feel blessed?” You didn’t, so you chose not to answer and kept smiling. He kicked you again. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Good girl,” he said. “You look cold. I think you’ve earned going inside.”

He took his time pulling the arrows out of you, talking about how badly he wanted to fill your wounds with his cum. He assured you he was kidding, but gave you absolutely no reason to believe him. How could trust someone so duplicitous?

He carried you like a bride through the red pines. He did it with such ease; it made your heart flutter. You were still terrified, but you clung to him. You imagined you were in the arms of someone else, someone that wouldn’t call you names and maim you.

“How much further?” you asked. The forest seemed to have no end.

“I wouldn’t be in a rush if I were you.”

“I’m ju—just really cold.”

He kissed your cheek and assured you it wouldn’t be much longer.

When you reached the grounds, he went in the opposite direction of the rectory.

“Why—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The church wasn’t much warmer than outside. You actually felt less comfortable. You knew you were going to Hell. There was no escaping your fate at this point. You buried your face in his neck.

He laid you down on the altar. A clear plastic tarp was draped over it. It stuck to your grimy, bloody skin. You attempted to cover your chest with your aching arms.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to be modest now,” he said as he got undressed. “I’ve already seen everything.”

“Not in here,” you said weakly.

He rolled his eyes and spread apart your legs. He positioned himself between them and ran his tongue down your folds. Your toes curled as he kissed your clit. His gaze never left yours. He took in every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. You found yourself enjoying the bliss of his kiss and the pain radiating from your wounds.

“Father,” you mewled as you ran your fingers through his hair.

It was so soft. You twirled a strand between your fingers as he feasted on your dripping cunt. You rolled your hips against his face, surrendering yourself to euphoria. He kissed the inside of your thigh before biting into your tender flesh. You winced as he applied more and more pressure. His teeth broke through your skin. You tried to push him away, but you were too weak.

The pain was indescribable. You would have rather he shot you with more arrows. His teeth dug further into your thigh and he pulled away with your flesh between his teeth. Blood poured from the newfound wound.

You watched in horror as he swallowed. You looked at your thigh and shrieked when you saw the chunk he took out of you.

“What?” he asked as he lapped at the blood spilling out.

You tried to get up but he held you in place.

“Please stop! I’ll do anything!”

He ignored you and bit down on another part of your thigh.

“Just let me go! I won’t say anything! You’ll never see me again! I’ll leave you alone! I promise! I swear to God!”

He ripped off another piece of flesh. Your blood covered the bottom half of his face. He looked like a wild animal. He crawled back on top of you, his face unbearably close to yours.

“You should be honored,” he cooed.

You tried to wriggle away from him, but he was too strong.

“I usually don’t do this, but fuck. You’re so pure. I need you to be a part of me.”

All you could do was weep.

“Hush. It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” he consoled as he forced his cock inside you. “Jesus Christ, you’re so tight.”

He began to thrust. He clenched his jaw and rutted against your limp body. You watched as his cheeks turned pink and his brows knitted together in rapturous agony.

“I couldn’t throw you away like the others. You’re such a precious, little thing.” He kissed you. “I needed more time with you. I thought about snapping your neck last night, but that would’ve been such a waste. You deserve better.”

You felt so small underneath him.

“Fuck! If I could keep you I would, but that’d be too complicated.”

“So yo—you’ll let me go?”

“Huh?” He moaned as his cock hit your cervix.

“After this… you’ll let me go home?”

He burst out into laughter. “What? Are you a fucking idiot? Of course I’m not letting you go home.”

“Then please keep me! I won’t cause you any problems! I won’t say anything to anyone! I’ll do whatever you want! Just please don’t kill me! I don’t wanna die!”

“Wouldn’t death be better than being miserable all the time?” he asked, stroking your cheek. “Think about it. It would solve all your problems.”

“No, it wouldn’t! I don’t wanna give up. Please just let me live.”

“I’ve already made up my mind. I’m sorry,” he said. “It’ll be okay. Your death won’t be in vain or anything.” He picked up the pace. It felt like his cock was going to split you in two. “I promise I’ll put your body to good use.”

“Father—”

“Shut up,” he said, covering your mouth. “I’m gonna come.”

He filled your cunt to the brim with his cum. He held your body close to him and pressed his forehead against yours. You lost all hope. There was no escape. You had completely resigned yourself to your fate. All you could do was hope his hand would be swift, and you wouldn’t suffer much.

#oh sangwoo x reader #sangwoo oh x reader #sangwoo smut #killing stalking smut #killing stalking x reader #.fics #cw.sangwoo #reader insert #x reader

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dollwritesarchive · 2 years

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𝒾𝓉’𝓈 𝓇𝒾𝓉𝓊𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸 ⎹ 𝓢.𝓞.

❝ ғᴀɴᴅᴏᴍ ⤻ killing stalking / kinktober 2022 / @dollsanime-library

❝ ғᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ⤻ sangwoo oh x hostage!reader ( f! )

❝ ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ⤻ nsfw! none of my writings are meant for anyone under the age of 18, and any minors interacting will be blocked on site.

❝ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ⤻ this is a dark fic. suggested kidnapping, if you know sangwoo then you know how toxic he is, forced freebleeding, humiliation & degradation, noncon, fingering, period smut, lots and lots of blood play & graphic descriptions of blood, masturbation ( him ), face fucking ( and not the way you think ), name calling ( bitch, mostly ), facial

❝ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ⤻ 1.9k / mini musing

❝ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴇ ⤻ i do not consent to having my work reposted / translated / stolen in any capacity for any reason. please reblog and leave a comment to support content creators! my work is very rarely proof read so mistakes may be present. all characters / pairings i write for are 18+ with no exceptions.

“Made another fucking mess?”

you yelp in surprise— you hadn’t heard Sangwoo come in. sitting on your knees in the laundry room, you scramble, nervously, to stuff the crimson stained sheet into the machine before he stomped inside, heart pounding hard in your chest. “Y—you scared me,” you stammered, attempting to redirect his attention away from the laundry, “you’re home earl—“

“You bleed all over the bed again?” he scoffs, shoving both hands into his pockets, glaring down at you. there was so much hatred in his eyes— or was it hunger?— as he looked you over, and then glanced at the machine. “Do you want to get kicked back down to the floor again?” you shake your head, opening your mouth to speak, but he steps forward, squats down, and grabs you by your face, pressing his thumb and forefinger into the supple flesh of your cheeks. you whimper and cower in submission, falling back on to your bum on the floor with your back flat against the washer door and his eyes narrow. “No? You want to keep being my little lapdog?”

“Y—yes.” no. not at all. you wanted to go home; you wanted to run as far and fast away from your captor as your legs would take you, but you knew he might just slice your tongue in half if you ever said that to him. so, you played your part. “P—please let me sleep in the bed… I like when you hold me…” pouring honey in your tone, you plead with him, but he only squeezes your cheeks tighter, “I’ll be more careful!” you yip, clenching fists against the wooden floor. your nails scrape against it, splintering micro shards. “I— I— won’t bleed on the sheets anymore, I promise!” but how could you help it? Sangwoo had shredded every pair of panties he bought you, and then berated you when he had to buy more, until finally, he grew tired of it and stopped buying them. you’d tried to wear the destroyed pairs, but it only angered him. i decide what you can and can’t cover, he’d said as he threw them all away, don’t forget that pussy is mine.

what Sangwoo said was law— you’d come to terms with that.

however, trying to control the blood when you weren’t even allowed underwear, but if it would make Sangwoo stop hurting you in this moment, you’d say whatever he wanted to hear.

Sangwoo wasn’t convinced, or he didn’t care, because he was still just staring at you.

the silence was deafening.

“Sangwoo—“

“Spread your legs.”

your eyes widened at the request, knees turning inwards, trying to close even tighter, but his free hand and one knee were already prying them apart, jamming in the gap to keep them open. you blush, madly. even though your skirt draped between your open thighs, you knew they must’ve been streaked, faintly, with drying blood. Sangwoo’s eyeline falls to them, and then he wrenches the skirt out of the way, ruffling it up on to your lap and you flinch— expecting some certain cruelty. “Are you ashamed of yourself?”

nodding, you nibble on your lip. could you help it? no. but, did Sangwoo have a way that made you feel two feet tall, disgusting, and utterly pathetic? of course he did.

“Let’s see.” he mumbles, before he releases your thigh and clamps his hand over your sex. you choke on a surprised cry when both fingers hook into you, curling fiercely, pumping knuckle deep inside you. Sangwoo’s jaw tightens, his brows furrowing, “That’s not shame that I feel in that cunt,” he growls leaning closer, and you bite your tongue to force the moans to the back of your throat, closing your eyes tightly. snorting through your nostrils, you try to stay as quiet as possible, but it was so damn hard when he was fucking you so rough with his fingers. “That’s lust, isn’t it?”

you shake your head, but you can’t avoid the avid clenching around his knuckles as your walls spasm.

“Shameless and a little, fucking liar.” he spits, using the grip on your face to shove your head back against the washer. the contact is solid, and you see stars behind your lids for a solid second as the base of your scalp stings, and you exhale, your eyelids flittering. “You should feel filthy, you know? Instead, you’re moaning like a bitch in heat while you bleed all over my nice, clean floor.”

“I—I’m sorry!” you whine, but it comes out garbled and broken.

finally, after several more, brutal thrusts, he wrenches his fingers free and you jerk at the sudden emptiness, cringing when you feel more rubies drip on to the floor under you. you’re already panting, eyelashes wet with what would’ve been tears had he tortured you any longer, and you squint as you look up at him once you notice he hadn’t spoken in a moment or two.

what you see truly turns your stomach.

his hand is soaked in crimson, smeared and sparkling from the tips of his fingers to the base of his wrist, and he’s just staring at it, expression unreadable. he’s stood up now, feet flat on the floor in front of you.

“I—I—“ but you didn’t know what to say. should you apologize again? should you say nothing?

the corners of his lip twitch, etching them upwards in a sleazy smirk. “So disgusting—“ but he moaned it, a breathy and husky utterance, and he releases your face to shove his clean hand into his sweatpants, fishing his cock out. your face was sore, and your head was throbbing. when he pulls his manhood free from its fabric confines, you see just how hard he is, and you feel your stomach flip. he could be absolutely cruel when he fucked you, and you didn’t know if you had it in you today— your body might simply give out. the bloody extremity lingers closer to his face, and he tilts his head slowly from one side to the other, examining the webs that drew taut when he spread the soaked digits. but, he was doing something else, too. inhaling, deep. smelling you. taking in the scent of your blood on his fingers. he brings them even closer, his tongue lazing out to drag along his bottom lip. “Heh…” he exhales.

for a moment, you stared, frozen, expecting him to lap at the blood, but he doesn’t. he wraps his bloody fist around the base of his cock and drags it, slowly, up to the tip, squeezing hard as he goes. he groans, blissful, smearing cerise over his sex. “Ahh…” you bite your lip, trying not to stare.

but Sangwoo smirks, arching a brow as he strokes himself, “Doesn’t my cock look so good covered in your blood, bitch?”

you don’t want to see it, and you force yourself to avert your gaze, staring at the wall with your cheeks on fire.

Sangwoo grits his teeth, patience as thin as ever, and grabs a fistful of your hair at the crown of your head with his free hand and uses the grip to drag you forward, “Watch me.” he snarls. you wince, following close to his fist to avoid any painful snatching, and obediently open your eyes. you’re much closer now, face only inches from the swollen head, and he chuckles, raspy, when your eyes widened. he’s slathered your blood over every inch, and is furiously fucking the red fist, hips pistoning in a rhythm you recognize all too well— mercilessly Sangwoo. “Your pussy’s nice as slippery when you bleed like this, bet even my big cock would just slide right in,” he grunts , staring down his torso at you. “Maybe I should pound it out, but I think I might drown in it— fuck.” his jaw tightens, as does the grip on your hair, and you bend to him, inching on your knees to get even closer; just as long as he stopped pulling on your scalp. “Eager, aren’t you, whore? Why don’t you get a closer look?”

with that, Sangwoo guides his length to drape it over your countenance. his warmth always astounded you; for someone so cold, his blood was always boiling. what’s worse is that you can smell yourself on him. sealing your lips tight and closing one eye, you stare up at him with the other, and see just how wickedly he’s smirking. “Feel that?” he mutters, clamping his hand against his cock, creating a canal against your face, “How fucking hard I am right now?” you nod, and his hips start to rock. he was right; his cock was solid and pulsating with a primal need that could only be bloodlust. smearing his manhood over your face, it slides between that and his palm— before long, he’s adapted that same, familiar and cruel pace. “I’ve never been this fucking hard before,” he’s starting to pant— on the brink of an orgasm, you knew, “you did this, you know. The smell of your blood, hng, the feeling of it on my fingers…” Sangwoo tilted his head back, mouth hanging open as he bucked his hips, chasing his high, “This feels so fucking good, so intense.”

your hands were on your thighs, digging your own nails into your skin to keep from pulling away from him, even as he came undone and drizzled warm release over your visage. the musky scent of his cum cocktailing with your blood was enough to make you dizzy. you close your eyes and let him guide your head by the tight vice on your roots, rubbing his cock against it until he was spent and panting, before he shoved you back with a satisfied groan. “Fucking hell.” he said after a moment, pressing his palms on the top of the washer and leaning forward against it to catch his breath. “I think I’m going to have to make you bleed for me more often.” he takes a moment, getting his breath under control, before he gave the top of your head a rough pat, which you cowered beneath. “Clean up your mess and get those sheets washed, they better not stain or I’ll tie them in knots around your neck.” you flinch, but nod obediently, finally opening your eyes again. his release was already getting tacky with the blood on your cheeks, and you swallow hard around the lump in your throat, watching him swagger out into the hall. “And hurry up, I’m starving.”

#oh sangwoo #sangwoo x reader #sangwoo x you #sangwoo smut #oh sangwoo smut #killing stalking #killing stalking x reader #killing stalking x you #killing stalking smut #sangwoo oh #oh sangwoo x reader #oh sangwoo x you

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floralseokjin · 2 years

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⤑ 9 months to fall in love 16.

It seems like everyone around you is either already in love, or in the process of falling, and while normally you couldn’t give a damn, finding out the co-worker you’ve had a teensy crush on is dating someone else at the office seems to sucker punch you right in the gut. It’s stupid, and you’re irritated at yourself, but you can’t seem to shake out of the funk you’ve fallen face first in.

Feeling lonely and heartsore, and mad for no reason, during drinks with your best friend you spot a man at the bar. Tequila confident, you make your way over to the stranger, and successfully one thing leads to another. The next morning you leave before he’s woken up, feeling satisfied in one way, but still as discontented as ever. Telling yourself it was an inebriated mistake, you quickly try to forget about it.

Only, three weeks later that night comes back to haunt you – in a very unescapable way…

pairing; kim seokjin x f reader au/genre; unplanned pregnancy, strangers to lovers, slow burn, romance (dare I say romcom in places), smut, angst, (melo)drama, dual pov words; 7,234

warnings/includes (!) I’m sorry, but we’re back in angstville for this one, be strong, everything will be ok!!!! There’s like 10% fluff, then 90% angst, conflict, they tell Oc’s family and it couldn’t go any worse if they tried tbh, Oc’s dad is not happy to put it lightly, he goes OFF, mentions of parent death, prepare to feel really sorry for Seokjin lmao, but he also gives the dad what for, our man needs a hug, but also Oc deserves one too!

⟶ ao3 link

*inspired by the manhwa ‘Positively Yours.’

↪︎ series index

SEASON TWO ⇤ previous | next ⇥

Yesterday had been a busy day altogether, because after your appointment with Dr. Choi, you’d visited Yuna and Jimin to share the news, then three (unplanned) hours later, you had to whisk off to meet up with Hoseok, Kang and Jungkook, the latter making reservations for dinner. You’d thought about gathering all your friends together to tell them, but you’d both decided quite resolutely, that you weren’t ready for Yuna and Jungkook to meet just yet. You would save that for the baby shower Yuna kept going on (and on) about.

You’d texted Namjoon to tell him he’d lost the betting pool, and also Yoongi to let him know he was on the winner’s team, who floated the idea of Globbina for a name – which had made Seokjin laugh a lot when you’d told him, followed by a ‘please, God no.’ You’d also let Yuna’s parents know the news, feeling guilty you’d managed to forget about them when Boyoung’s text had come through politely asking if she could find out. In the general scheme of things, you probably didn’t have that many people to tell, but to you it seemed like hundreds.

The day after, you both made the drive down to visit Seokjin’s parents again, his brother and Seohyun already there with Taeoh and Jiu, all of them excitedly waiting to find out whether Glob was a girl or boy – well, maybe minus Jiu, who didn’t understand what was going on (but, was successfully warming to you more!) Mikyung teared up as soon as you told her the news and showed her the sonograms. She couldn’t wait to meet her second baby granddaughter. Sangwoo smiled and clasped Seokjin’s shoulder proudly, Seokwon brought him into a hug, just as Seohyun did the same to you, which should have felt awkward, but you were just so happy to share the news, so happy everyone was happy too, you didn’t bat an eyelid. Taeoh squealed and wrapped his arms around the tops of your thighs, happily yelling HI GIRL GLOB COUSIN to your bump, while Jiu looked at him oddly.

(Deciding to tell him that nickname was the best thing you’d ever done. You were pretty sure it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.)

“Is your brother silly?” you’d asked her, crouching down as much as you could in an attempt to be eye level. You’d been rewarded with your first smile and a shy chuckle. You’d have this whole mother thing down in no time!

Then on Monday, it was the office’s turn! Two days later they surprised you with a little party and a cake that said: ‘It’s a girl!’ in stereotypical pink icing, not that you didn’t love and appreciate it – cake was cake, and it was a very delicious cake at that! You were further surprised when you saw Seokjin walking through the door, Namjoon having secretly invited him, and your jaw practically dropped when later you saw him having a friendly conversation with Yoongi by the water cooler.

The only ones you hadn’t told yet, was your family. The guilt had started to creep in when you’d told Seokjin’s, and had gradually, but surely grown worse as the week went by. They didn’t even know you were pregnant! The cruise had been out of your control, however you couldn’t help but wish you’d told them earlier. It had been a mistake to keep it from them this long.

Thankfully though, your dad and Yeonja were now home, and you were almost certain that as soon as Yeonja had gotten through the front door – no, maybe sooner than that – she had lunged for the phone, calling you to organise lunch for Saturday. Every time you thought about it you felt a little sick. Of course, as it usually seemed to be, Saturday rolled around way too fast, and you had no other option but to put on your big girl pants (which were actually really stretchy ‘granny pants’ as Yuna called them.) You left to make the hour’s drive at half 11, your stomach twisting in anticipation. It was finally happening.

Seokjin seemed nervous too, which wasn’t a surprise. He’d been quiet ever since he’d gotten a phone call from Hoseok as you were finishing off your makeup. You hadn’t heard the entire conversation because he’d slipped out of your bedroom to continue it, and when you’d asked him if everything was all right, he’d nodded and smiled. Maybe he’d been confiding in his best friend how anxious he was, not wanting to burden you. To show him you were in this together, you reached over to squeeze his thigh every once in a while, earning you a smile each time.

The car journey too, seemed to go too fast. In no time at all Seokjin was pulling into the familiar driveway.

“This is a really nice house,” Seokjin awed, as you rounded the car to meet him, a bottle of champagne in one of his hands.

“My dad built it,” you explained, smiling as he continued to gaze up at it, an almost silent woah, slipping past his throat.

It wasn’t anything elaborate, your father didn’t like anything over the top, but it was a great looking house. You’d been so jealous of it when you were a kid, although you could never work out why. As you got older it all made sense. You wanted to live in a house your father had built.

Casting his gaze over to you, Seokjin smiled warmly. “Do you think he can build us a home one day?”

He was joking, you thought, or maybe not, the glint in his eyes almost hopeful, earnest? It made your insides feel all funny, hard to describe the feeling, but you were grinning, your hand finding his free one, laughing quietly. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

The sound of the door knocker hitting the wood matched the banging of your heart, and you took a slow, deep breath, psyching yourself up. These past few months had been a series of new and nerve-wracking situations, what was one more to add to the pile?

Yeonja was on the door like a flash, yanking it open, smile wide. “____, honey.” Her eyes were on your face for a second tops, before they flew to your right, taking in the man wrought with discomfort beside you. “This must be Seokjin. Oh my,” — back at you again, a raised eyebrow of approval. You’d told her his name on the phone and she said it now with a practised ease.

And then, the moment you’d been waiting for. Her gaze dropped, briefly, to your stomach, barely taking it in before she was directing that smile back to Seokjin, and then…then she had to do a double take. “Oh—” she exclaimed, the sound sharp and cutting off abruptly.

“Surprise,” you sang, internally cringing at yourself. You might as well have added jazz hands.

“You’re—You’re—”

You nodded, pretty sure she had guessed you were pregnant by now. The hug she threw your way confirmed it, but it was over surprisingly quick, and she just stared at you in wild disbelief, her hands gripping your shoulders. You offered her a feeble smile, unsure what else to do, or to actually say.

Yeonja turned her head, looking behind her, then snapped her neck back to you. She repeated. Then hugged you again. When she pulled back you were afraid she might be malfunctioning. “Minsoo!” she suddenly cried in hysteric excitement. “Look!”

Your stomach twisted. Yeonja was one person, you still had three more to go, your father being one of them. Your stepmom ushered you both inside just as you heard your dad’s footsteps coming into the hallway. You smiled at him sheepishly when he came into view and stopped by the staircase. Instantly, his eyes found your bump. “What’s this?”

He said it so quietly, so calmly, you needed a moment to collect yourself and remember how to speak. “Surprise,” you sang once again (WHY), weaker this time. You’d expected him not to have much of a reaction, but the instant disappointment you felt made your heart feel as though it weighed a ton.

“Minsoo,” Yeonja gushed, “isn’t this amazing news?”

Before he had a chance to respond, or to grunt his response, your brother appeared from the living room, a baseball cap on his head back to front. “What’s going on?” he asked, brows furrowed, and you noticed the game controller in his hand.

“Your sister is expecting,” Yeonja beamed, the back of her fingers pressed to her mouth in a bid to control her excitement.

Jihoon’s brow only seemed to crinkle more, obviously confused by the word ‘expecting.’ Expecting what? A delivery? Then, he looked at you, really looked at you, his mouth dropping open. “Holy fuck.” He said each syllable emphatically. He tilted his chin, ignoring his mom’s whispered scolding, and shouted up the stairs. “Joo, get the hell down here now!” There was a pause. “JUEUN!”

Then just as loud: “I’m still getting ready, asshole!”

Beside you, Seokjin shifted, but you felt strangely stiff, unable to turn to acknowledge him. Yeonja tutted, no doubt embarrassed. You knew Seokjin wouldn’t bat an eyelid at this kind of behaviour, he and Jungkook often acted in the same way and they were in their thirties, not in their late teens. He was probably just feeling uncomfortable because you father hadn’t taken his eyes off you both since he’d appeared. You chose to pretend you hadn’t noticed.

“You’re gonna wanna see this,” Jihoon shouted back.

“See what? Is ____ here?” Ten seconds later you heard a door open and just as quickly, your sister was running down the stairs to greet you, smiling as she did so. She noticed almost immediately, stopping on the second to last step. “Oh my god,” she gasped. “You’re pregnant?!” With a squeal, she was launching herself into your arms.

“Jueun, not too hard. You might hurt her,” Yeonja warned, but it didn’t stop her from joining in. A laugh bubbled from your throat as you wrapped your arms around each of their waists, making the three-way hug work. “Jihoon,” Yeonja beckoned, pulling away. “Congratulate your sister.”

He reluctantly made his way over, obviously embarrassed, because you guessed showing a little sibling affection was mortifying for an 18-year-old. Still, he gave you a short hug, mumbling, “Congrats, ____.”

As he stepped back, you realised Jueun had belatedly taken note of Seokjin’s presence, her face a little flushed as she pushed some hair behind her ear and smiled up at him shyly. “Joo, Ji, this is Seokjin,” you introduced, trying to control your amused smile.

Seokjin raised a hand adorably. “Nice to meet you guys.” He seemed a little overwhelmed, but kept a smile on his face, glancing at your father. “You too, sir.”

Yikes, probably a little too formal for your father’s liking. Not that he said. Well, not that he responded at all, actually.

Yeonja cleared her throat before it could get anymore awkward, probably picking up on the atmosphere. “Let’s all sit down. Lunch is almost ready and you need to be off your feet as much as possible, ____, standing in the doorway like this.” She shook her head, as if chiding herself. “Jihoon, set the table.”

“Why me?” he whined. “I was in the middle of a game.”

“Just do it,” she said forcibly, no room for argument, before beaming over at Seokjin. “Let me take this off you, Seokjin.” She reached for the champagne, pausing to read the label. “Oh, how lovely. Thank you. Very fancy,” she giggled. Giggled.

Of course. You should have known Seokjin could win her over with only his face.

“Jueun, go help your brother,” she directed at your sister, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to lead you inside the front room – the room that was reserved for guests. “I have so many questions.”

“I want to hear the answers as well,” Jueun grumbled, looking put out.

“Well, make it snappy then,” Yeonja suggested primly, before laughing so loudly it pierced your ears.

Yeonja kept you talking well into lunch, it was a wonder you managed to eat at all. You filled her and Jueun in on all the little details of your pregnancy so far. How many months you were, that you were having a girl, what symptoms you had been, and were, suffering with. Even Jihoon listened with interest (until the symptoms part, that was.) Your father on the other hand stayed practically silent, sitting to your left at the top of the table. Any words he did say were few and far between, and always (reluctantly) prompted by Yeonja. A little voice in your head told you this was more than just being uninterested. He hadn’t cracked a smile once, his jaw set firmly. He was mad, everyone at the table knew that, but you couldn’t for the life of you understand why.

“I wanted to tell you sooner,” you were telling Yeonja now, who was sat the opposite end of your dad. “But then I found out you and dad were going on that cruise and telling you on the phone seemed…” You trailed off guiltily, offering an apologetic smile.

“That’s no problem, darling” Yeonja said with a smile. “How long have you known? Not long?”

“Um. Actually, we’ve known quite early on,” you said awkwardly, now feeling even guiltier. “We didn’t want to say anything until it was safe, I guess. I didn’t want to jinx anything.”

“Oh, ____, of course. We understand,” Yeonja replied, even if she did look a little shocked by your revelation. She turned her attention to Seokjin who was beside you. “And your parents, Seokjin, do they know yet?”

“We told them around a month ago.”

Yeonja shook her head. “That stupid cruise. I mean, it was a great cruise – We had a great time, didn’t we, honey?” Your dad grunted in response. “But I could have found out the news sooner!”

“I can’t believe I’m going to be an aunt!” Jueun exploded, seated in front of you, making everyone laugh – sans one person.

“What is it your parents do?” Yeonja asked Seokjin.

“They’re retired actually,” he replied, wiping his mouth with his napkin. (A napkin?? Yeonja had really pulled out all the stops.) “Um. I own my own company, so I’m able to help out and provide for them. When they need it, of course,” he added awkwardly. He rarely liked talking about himself or his accomplishments, you’d long realised.

“Oh. So filial,” Yeonja beamed, looking impressed. “Jihoon, are you taking note?” Jueun snicked beside him. “Are you going to own a company in the future and look after us?”

Ignoring her, Jihoon asked Seokjin: “What’s the company?”

“It’s a gaming company. You may have heard of it…Alpaca Gaming Studios?”

Jihoon’s jaw dropped. “No fucking way!”

“Language!” Yeonja clipped.

“Mom, he owns one of the best gaming companies in the world,” Jihoon cried. Swearing was justified.

“That might be a bit of an over exaggeration,” Seokjin chuckled.

“This is fu—I mean, this is freaking crazy!”

“So you’re famous?” Jueun asked, eyes wide.

Seokjin full on laughed now. “Not quite. The games I helped create, maybe.”

“They’re next level, dude,” Jihoon gushed. “I’ve been playing your games for years. Ever since I was a kid!”

“They’re not just my games,” Seokjin stated modestly, but your brother was too far gone in his excitement to hear.

“I’m googling you right now!”

“Let me seeeee,” Jueun whined, trying to look over his shoulder.

“Get lost.” Jihoon nudged her away. “Woah. It really is you!” Holding up his phone, Seokjin’s face filled the screen. The same image you’d been met with when you too had googled his name all those months ago.

“Oh, I should have my glasses…” Yeonja muttered. “Hold it closer, darling.” Yeonja practically leaned over the table. “A headshot! How handsome!” She glanced over at your dad. “Minsoo, are you seeing this? Your daughter’s boyfriend is a CEO.”

“I see it.”

Your stomach dropped at your dad’s tone, and you shared a surreptitious look with Jueun, who looked as unsure as you felt. Your dad seemed to have a problem with Seokjin? How and why? Seokjin shifted uncomfortably beside you, picking up on the vibe too, and you felt a twinge of embarrassment. How could your dad act this rude?

“Jihoon, if you want, I can show you around the AGS building some time?” Seokjin suggested, trying his best to carry on as normal.

“Foreal, dude?” Jihoon’s eyes were wide.

Seokjin grinned. “Foreal.”

“Can I come too?” Jeuen asked.

“Sure.”

“You don’t even play video games,” Jihoon shot, pulling a face.

“I do!”

“The Sims doesn’t count.”

“Oh, come on,” Seokjin laughed. “It does. It’s a simulation game, just like BT21.”

Despite the animosity radiating off your father in waves, it was nice to see Seokjin getting along with your siblings. You caught Yeonja’s eye and smiled.

“BT21? That’s one of your games?” Jeuen asked. “Maybe I’ll buy it.”

Seokjin shook his head. “No need to spend your money.”

“She doesn’t have any money,” Jihoon scoffed.

Seokjin chuckled. “I mean, I’ll get you a copy.”

Jeuen beamed over at him. “Thank you, Seokjin.”

You all managed to finish your meal, but conversation animatedly started back again halfway through dessert. This time however, it seemed your father wanted to join in…

“Tell me more about your relationship,” Yeonja urged Seokjin. “How did you guys meet? When was it?”

Jihoon groaned; the topic not nearly as interesting as AGS.

“Oh,” Seokjin guffawed, put on the spot. He wasn’t the best at this, as you’d already established. Ten seconds of questions from Yeonja and he’d end up spilling all the sordid details. “We met at a bar.”

“____ is always so secretive,” Yeonja joked. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s been hiding you away for years.”

“Hah, not quite.”

“How long?”

You were so surprised to finally hear your dad’s voice unprompted, it didn’t register at first. Seokjin’s eyes were slightly rounded when he met his gaze, swallowing before he replied. “Well…”

“How long have you been together?” your dad repeated flatly.

“Minsoo,” Yeonja said, the smile on her face painful looking.

“I just want to know how long he’s been dating my daughter.”

Jihoon fidgeted in his seat, sensing the atmosphere immediately. Jueun looked at you, wincing.

“It’s more than dating, dad,” you said as casually as you could manage. Practically the first words you’d uttered to him all afternoon.

When his palm hit the table, you jumped. It hadn’t been loud, but it took you by surprise anyway. “Will someone just answer my question, please. How long has it been?”

Frustrated and growing angry, you knew you needed to at least leak some of the truth. Your father wasn’t like Yeonja, happily blinded by the news of your relationship. He’d already guessed the answer. “A couple of months. Okay?” You hadn’t meant to raise your voice, but you were suddenly feeling defensive. “I got pregnant when we weren’t together. Not that it matters, because now we are and are very happy.” It felt as though you had to justify yourself, and you hated it. It felt forced.

“Oh, well,” Yeonja started, trying for damage control. “That doesn’t matter at all—”

“I can’t believe this has happened. How could you let this happen, ____?”

Your father’s words burned shame across your face, your skin prickling. Or maybe it was anger. Red hot anger. He sounded so disappointed in you.

“Minsoo,” Yeonja warned lowly, no longer smiling. Beside you, Seokjin was stiff.

“No, Yeonja. I’m sorry for doing this, but do you really expect me to just sit here and listen to all this nonsense?”

Seokjin cleared his throat, speaking respectfully. “I know it’s a shock but—”

“I don’t need you to tell me what’s a shock.”

“Dad!” you cried, incredulous. How dare he speak to Seokjin like that.

“How, ____?” he demanded again. “How could you have a baby with a stranger?”

“Seokjin is not a stranger!” you shouted. You looked around the table, your siblings silent and nervous. Yeonja was glowering at your father. “This is ridiculous. I’m nearly thirty years old!”

“You are still my daughter!”

“Minsoo, please. This is not the time and place,” Yeonja hissed.

“Then what is? After she’s had the baby?!” your dad yelled. “After this man has grown bored of her, moved onto the next woman who catches his eye, gets them pregnant too, maybe?!”

Too stunned, too hurt, you didn’t know what to say to that, you could only stare at him open mouthed.

“Minsoo!”

“That is never going to happen,” Seokjin said beside you, addressing your father’s ridiculous claims. Despite everything, he still spoke diplomatically. “I understand I’m a stranger to you right now, but you have this situation all wrong. I care about ____ and our baby very much.”

“I have nothing wrong, believe you me. I know your type. You think you can come inside my home and charm my entire family right in front of me? All while I’ve been oblivious to the charming you’ve been doing to my pregnant daughter this whole time. Do you think I’m a joke?”

You realised then that your eyes were stinging with tears, but you held them back with all your might.

“That’s enough!” Yeonja yelled, standing up. “Jihoon, Jueun, get upstairs. I need to talk to your father.”

For once, neither put up a fight, standing quickly and leaving the dining room in silence. As you heard them walk upstairs, Yeonja came over to you and put her arm around your shoulders. One hot tear slid down your cheek, and you wiped it away quickly. “Look what you’ve done. This is so embarrassing, Minsoo!” Yeonja cried. “Would it kill you to be happy for her? For them?!”

“Happy?” he roared. “Happy for what? That some rich, pompous ‘CEO’ has impregnated my daughter?! Oh yeah, I’m over the fucking moon, Yeonja.”

When you sniffed, Seokjin turned to look at your face, realising that you were crying. “Maybe we should talk alone?” he suggested to your father calmly. “You’re upsetting your daughter.”

Your father’s eyes flashed with anger, before softening briefly when they found yours. He looked down at the table and snarled. “Fine.”

Before Yeonja could help you up, Seokjin reached over and rubbed your back. “You’re okay.” You tried to let his soothing voice reassure you. “It’s all right, I promise.”

A few moments later you were sat on the couch with Yeonja, a protective arm still around you as your tears fell silently. “Oh, ____, honey. Don’t cry. It’s all okay.”

“How is it okay?” Your voice broke at the end of your question. “Dad is so angry.” ‘

She squeezed your shoulder. “Not at you.”

“Being angry at Seokjin doesn’t make it any better,” you sniffed, and just thinking of him made your heart clenched. This was so unfair to him. You wiped your eyes defiantly. “I need to go back in there.”

“Just leave them for a moment. It’ll be fine.”

The sick feeling in your gut didn’t tell you the same, but you knew that your father wasn’t an aggressive man. Then again, you’d never seen him this angry before. His reaction was still shocking, you hadn’t processed it. He was usually quiet, even when furious. When you were a child, one stern look from him had you instantly behaving. He had never even raised his voice at you, and even when arguing with your mom, he chose to leave and cool off instead of continuing the verbal confrontation.

Yeonja brought you into a hug, and you let yourself close your eyes. You could smell her familiar powdery perfume. Ever since you’d known her, twenty-two years, it had always been the same one. It made you feel comforted, even if just for a moment.

“Your emotions must be all over the place with all the pregnancy hormones,” she murmured. “Mine went haywire with Jihoon and Jueun, your dad didn’t know what to do.”

It’s not really the same though, you wanted to reply, but stopped yourself. Your emotions had been perfectly fine until you’d shown up here today, but you knew that wasn’t Yeonja’s fault. Right now, she was only trying to make you feel better. To distract you, even. So you just let her.

Seokjin took a deep breath, trying to be as discreet as possible. He wasn’t afraid, but he still needed to steel himself. If he was being honest, he’d expected a not so warm welcome from your father, call it intuition, despite how much you’d believed he would be indifferent. Still, he hadn’t imagined such anger. Seokjin couldn’t recall a time he’d been so unfairly judged, couldn’t recall someone being this incensed with him. He had never been in a physical altercation in his life, and while he didn’t actually believe your father would hit him, this day had been full of surprises. So, his default was to diffuse the situation.

“I understand why you’re so angry, I would be too if I was in your shoes.”

It wasn’t exactly the news every dad wanted to hear, was it? Their daughter pregnant by a man they hardly knew at the time. By a stranger. He’d said so himself. How could you have a baby with a stranger? You’d long stopped feeling like strangers, but at the time, it was the truth. Seokjin tried to envision the same thing happening to him in the future. His daughter, all grown up, telling him an identical story. Minsoo’s reaction wasn’t unjustified. He too, would be furious.

Minsoo stayed silent, regarding him stonily from the other side of the table, so Seokjin continued uneasily. It was up to him to sort this out, to make your father see he had nothing to worry about. “I get it, I really do, but… What can I do to make you see it’s not like that at all?”

In all honesty, he wasn’t so confident this approach would work, according to Minsoo, he was a master manipulator…

“Nothing,” he replied gruffly, and Seokjin let out a frustrated breath. That was it? This man wasn’t going to give him a single chance to change his mind?

“Then that’s a shame, because I plan on being in your daughter’s life for a very long time,” Seokjin said as effortlessly as he could manage. It didn’t matter if Minsoo didn’t like him, didn’t want to accept him. Yet even as Seokjin thought that, he felt uncomfortable. Seokjin liked being liked. Many a therapy session had made that clear.

More silence followed, and while Seokjin was sure it wasn’t a good silence, at least your father didn’t seem as heated anymore. Seokjin followed him with his eyes when Minsoo suddenly stood up, making his way over to a wooden mini bar. He reached out for a bottle of whisky, but didn’t open it, only stared down at it.

“How well do you know ____?”

Seokjin swallowed, unable to tell if that was a dig at him because he hadn’t known you very long, or if it was a genuine question. Before he could reply, your father continued.

“When she was six, me and her mother got divorced.” Seokjin nodded, showing he knew this already. Not that Minsoo could see him, his back still turned. “We weren’t together very long before we found out Hyesoo was pregnant, we rushed things, thought it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t.”

Seokjin’s eyebrows pinched together in realisation. Minsoo was telling him the same would happen to you and him.

“____ didn’t take it very well. She didn’t take my second marriage very well either,” Minsoo continued. “She never said anything, that’s not her style. But I knew… She wanted to be there for her mom, be on her side. I understood that. I still do.”

“Her and her mom seemed very close,” Seokjin offered, trying to show how engaged he was in this conversation.

“They were,” Minsoo nodded, finally turning around. “Like two peas in a pod. ____ even stayed at home for university, just so she didn’t have to leave her. They had a close relationship, but it was also very…dependant.” Minsoo paused, thinking how to continue.

“I don’t know if ____ sees it like that.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Minsoo agreed. “____ was all Hyesoo had, and I think that made ____ feel as if Hyesoo had to be all she had too. Or maybe I’ve had it wrong all these years.” He chuckled dryly, shaking his head. “Maybe my own daughter just really can’t stand to be near me too long.”

Seokjin frowned, he didn’t think that was the case, remembering back to the semi-fond way you’d spoken about your father the morning after you’d finally slept together again. But was it his place to say? Your relationship seemed complicated, both you and your father under false presumptions.

“My daughter is admirably independent and so emotionally strong. Just like…” Minsoo trailed off, starting again. “But that doesn’t mean she’s not sensitive, it doesn’t mean she doesn’t hurt. After Hyesoo’s death, she wasn’t right for a long time, had to get counselling.”

Seokjin’s eyebrows lifted in surprise; he hadn’t known that. Although, what happened after your mother’s passing didn’t exactly come up in conversation very much.

“Even then, she withdrew from me even more. I let it slide because I knew she had her friends, Yuna mostly and her family. She was doing well again, but…” Minsoo stared at him, warning written all over his face. “She doesn’t deserve anymore heartbreak. She’s already had enough of it to last a lifetime. No child should lose a parent that young, but she came out the other side. Always does, because she’s incredible like that.”

The corner of Seokjin’s mouth lifted, a sad smile. “Have you ever told ____ all those things? I think she would like to hear them.” Everybody craved and enjoyed being praised by a parent, no matter how old they were.

Minsoo shook his head and turned towards the mini bar again.

Seokjin opened his mouth hesitantly. He didn’t want to speak for you, but some things needed to be said. “She wasn’t expecting your reaction today.”

He could tell it had taken you by surprise and upset you greatly. Just seeing you cry had physically hurt him, as it always did, and he knew it had hurt your father too. Your family dynamic wasn’t at all what he’d imagined. It was normal, and loud, and…fun. (Minus the angry father part, but Seokjin knew that was all because of himself.) It was obvious Yeonja adored you and you seemed to have a good relationship with your siblings. Maybe you weren’t so close with Jihoon, but with Jueun, he’d felt that sisterly bond, noticed your shared glances, doing that telepathy thing you and Yuna did, the kind he wanted with you. It didn’t matter if you didn’t see them all that often, they loved you all the same, and you loved them too, and it was so glaringly obvious now, that Minsoo loved and cared about you deeply. He showed it in the wrong way, anger never got a person anywhere, but Seokjin could see it. He wanted you to see it too…

When Minsoo didn’t reply, Seokjin tried again. “She was so certain you’d be unbothered by the news.” Seokjin didn’t want to overstep, but he thought you were under that impression because your father showed no active interest in your life.

Minsoo whirled around incredulously. “Unbothered?!” He was angry again. “Why would I ever accept this? I’m not my wife who romanticises everything! This wasn’t how I wanted things for her.”

Seokjin looked down at the table, the sight of dessert making him feel sick. He’d been doing so well, getting somewhere possibly, and now he was back at square one.

“I don’t want to watch a repeat of everything that went wrong with me and her mother.”

Seokjin’s eyes flew up, just like the anger that suddenly collected in his chest. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

“How do I know that?”

‘She knows that.” That was all that mattered. He had to keep reminding himself.

“Why does she think she knows that?” Minsoo countered. “What did you promise her? All that money… You think you can just buy her affections? Fuck, I thought she was smarter than that.”

Seokjin tried to get a hold of himself. It would do him no favours if he started raising his voice too, but he hated hearing what your dad was saying. You were smart. Getting pregnant didn’t erase that. He took a deep breath.

“I don’t think that at all. I don’t need to buy anything, and ____ would never let me.” He chuckled humourlessly. “How well do you think you know your daughter?” The question rushed from his mouth before he could stop it, but he didn’t feel regret. Instead, anger spurred him on. “Five months. That’s how long I’ve known her, and in that time, I’ve never once seen you call her, text her, anything.”

All the fight seemed to zap right out of Minsoo, shoulders hunching. When he spoke, he sounded embarrassed. “We don’t have that kind of relationship. We don’t do talking on the phone, messaging… I can just about use a phone.”

His excuses made Seokjin’s nostrils flare. “All ____ wants is a family. Me, her and our daughter. I want that just as much.” If not more, at one point, Seokjin thought privately. He had hoped for this, wished, for this outcome. How dare this man assume otherwise. “Maybe if you had done more, you’d know that all already.”

Seokjin was playing with fire, he knew that, but he was glad he’d said it. It was how he felt, how he’d silently perceived the situation for weeks now. How were you supposed to know how your father really felt when he never told you a thing? Yes, maybe you had always been distant, taking your mother’s side, but you had been a child. You were his child. He was the adult. He should have made more of an effort, instead of letting his daughter think he didn’t care about her life all that much. He would say this too, if he had bigger balls.

Big balls have nothing to do with it, he heard Jungkook’s voice say, but it did little to lighten the mood.

Minsoo narrowed his eyes accusingly. “Who are you to tell me what I should have done? Are you an expert on our life? You’ve known her five minutes, not thirty years.”

“I may have only known her for a short amount of time, but it doesn’t feel like that. We, she—we talk to each other a lot. I know things. We’ve really gotten to know one another.” You opened up to him. It had taken a while, but you trusted him now. “It’s been intense,” Seokjin continued, less defensive now, “with the pregnancy, but it’s made it better, it’s worked out. It’s continuing to work out.” He held Minsoo’s gaze, expression severe. “I care about your daughter a lot—more than a lot. She’s strong, so clever, admirable. I don’t…maybe I don’t deserve her, she’s amazing, but I want to try, I want this. So maybe it doesn’t matter if you don’t accept us.”

If you don’t accept me, he thought.

He didn’t need it, he tried to remind himself. He was thirty-four years old, and he didn’t need everyone to like him. He didn’t need to be accepted by everyone. Other people’s acknowledgement wasn’t everything. But it was hard to believe when the one person he needed that approval from was unwilling to give it. This was your father. However, because of that fact, he wasn’t going to let Minsoo see how much being liked by him mattered. It would do him no good to come across as desperate. He’d said his piece, and he’d lick his wounds when he was alone.

He'd have plenty of time to be alone next week, he remembered glumly, his phone call with Hoseok this morning yet another issue in now a sea of many…

The car ride home was made in silence. You leaned your head against the window and closed your eyes almost immediately, but you weren’t really asleep, just mentally exhausted. Seokjin only concentrated on the road, his jaw set tight and visibly tense.

After Seokjin reappeared, Yeonja had apologised profusely. He’d assured her it was fine and wasn’t her fault, but he seemed subdued, and wouldn’t look you in the eyes properly when you told him you wanted to leave. He was upset, and that just made this entire situation worse and hurt you even more. Yeonja tried to persuade you to stay and talk to your dad, but you refused. He hadn’t even left the dining room, which told you all you needed to know. Telling Yeonja there was no need for her to call you tonight because you didn’t feel like talking, you asked her to say goodbye to Jueun and Jihoon for you. You couldn’t face doing it in person right now.

When you finally arrived outside your house, you tugged the door handle, unsure what you would do when you got inside, but needing it all the same. You needed the comfort of your own home, the familiar smell, the furniture that had always been there. You realised then that Seokjin hadn’t moved at all, even though he’d switched the engine off. You turned to look at him quizzically.

“Hey, I think I might head back to my apartment.” His voice was hoarse, not having spoken for over an hour.

“Oh,” you managed. Rejection hit you, but you tried really hard to ignore it. You forced yourself to smile reassuringly. “That’s okay.” Seokjin didn’t respond. “Listen Seokjin, I am so sorry about what happened.”

He finally looked over at you, disbelief on his face. “It’s not your fault.”

It felt like it was. “I was the one who told you he wouldn’t care. I thought it would be fine.”

“Why did you think that, ____?” he asked softly. “Because you don’t realise how much your father loves you?”

Frowning, you didn’t understand what he was getting at. “What?” For some incomprehensible reason, your first instinct was anger. “I know my dad loves me, Seokjin. He’s just—I thought he’d be okay with it.”

You thought he’d be happy with the news, in his own roundabout way. How wrong you were… That’s why you were so upset. His reaction had been the complete opposite of what you’d imagined. Indifference was so much better than rage.

Seokjin said nothing, so you asked: “What did he say? When you were alone?”

Seokjin bowed his head and shook it slowly, both hands gripping the wheel. He was reluctant to tell you, and all you could do was worry about all the things that had been said.

“I think maybe he should be the one to tell you,” Seokjin said finally, glancing at you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You didn’t want to take your frustration out on Seokjin, but he was the one you trusted, the one you felt comfortable with, like you could share anything with him. So why couldn’t he tell you what had happened when he and your father were alone? Unless…

Maybe Seokjin was too hurt and embarrassed to repeat their conversation. You reached over, a reassuring hand on his knee. “I don’t care what my dad thinks. You understand that, right?” you told him gently.

Seokjin stared down at your hand, looking visibly exhausted. “I’m just feeling very overwhelmed right now. I need to be alone, to sort through everything.”

You tried not to feel hurt by what he was telling you, you tried to understand, but right now he wanted to be on his own, and you didn’t. You had become used to being your own support over the years, but Seokjin by your side had helped reinforce you. You wanted to be with him, so it was painful to know he didn’t want your support right now.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” you asked.

You watched him shake his head, your mouth parting in shock, and you removed your hand from his knee. “I mean,” he rushed, noticing and sounding remorseful. “I mean, shit, that phone call I had with Hoseok this morning? I need to leave for Japan tomorrow afternoon.”

“What?” Surely he was playing a joke on you.

He closed his eyes. “There’s a gaming convention next week. I was due to appear by video, but there was a change of plan this morning. They need me there.”

“You’re leaving for an entire week?” you asked in disbelief.

“I was going to tell you as soon as we got back. I didn’t want to ruin today…”

You both lapsed into silence hearing the irony of that now.

“So you’re just going to leave,” you whispered after a few moments. “Without talking about this? Jump on a plane tomorrow, and then what?”

You’d act as if nothing had happened when he got back? Or worse, what if your father’s behaviour scared him off? As soon as you thought that, you shook it away. You were being ridiculous. That would never happen.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised. “I’ll message you every day, check in. I don’t know how often I’ll be able to phone, but I’ll try to—,”

“It’s fine,” you interrupted, trying to be understanding. “Messaging is enough if you’re very busy—Well, of course you’ll be very busy.”

He nodded, not meeting your eyes, and you were suddenly overcome with a feeling of hopelessness. You were usually the closed off one, not Seokjin. Seeing him like this was disconcerting. You felt sick with unease. How had this day turned out so terrible? Yeonja had been happy for you, your brother and sister had been happy for you. Everyone you knew was happy for you. So why couldn’t your own father be?

“Seokjin, talk to me,” you pleaded, trying once again and taking one of his hands. “I don’t care what my dad thinks,” you repeated slowly.

“But I do,” he said with a resigned sigh.

You wanted to tell him he didn’t have to. You wanted to feel frustrated, but you couldn’t, because if things had been the opposite way around, his family not accepting you, you would have felt the same way too. Those few scary moments when his mom had found out, they were nothing compared to your dad’s reaction today.

“I’ll see you in a week then?” You wanted it to be an assertion, but it came out more like a question. Seokjin nodded. “Message me before your flight takes off?”

“I will,” he replied, managing a small smile.

You hesitated, wanting to reach over and hug him more than anything, but you settled on a quick kiss to his cheek and slowly got out of the car. You hadn’t missed the way he’d sadly closed his eyes as he felt your lips on his skin, as though attempting to savour the feeling.

Your legs felt wobbly as you walked to your door.

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #fic:9mtfil #floralseokjin:writings

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