#and by that i mean i can't listen to it without sobbing

[jayhyunglover]

Cinnamon girl

Pairing: Rafayel x female! reader

Wk: 0.7k

A/N : I was listening to Lana del Rey and the angst worm came to say Hello. Happy reading!!!

Now playing: cinnamon girl by Lana del Rey .

Imagine this quiet life with Rafayel. 

Waking up entangled in the bed every morning. Going to sleep every night with him tucked nicely against you. 

Everytime he came back weary from an exhibition you couldn't attend he sought comfort into your arms -his favorite place to be . His face pressed against your soft curves as he let your presence wash the remnants of exhaustion away. 

He looks forward to this everyday , coming back to you , his safe place , his bride , his most devoted follower, his cinnamon girl. 

But even a god has to pay for his sins .

what happens when this safe place is wrenched away from him or maybe she walked away herself. Who knows? Not everyone can bear the weight of this sacrificial love. 

“Cutie” Rafayel called out for you , searching frantically through his studio. It was already late at night , this exhibition took longer than necessary. That's why he decided to grab some take out from your favorite place intending to spend the night cuddled against you. 

But you were nowhere to be found . The moonlight spilling from the glass windows made the room glow with an ethereal light but it seemed so dull without you , his light. 

“Darling you're scaring me” he chuckled nervously -his coping mechanism- “it's not funny” he sighed running a hand through his already mused up hair , not giving up on his search.

But as reality started to sink in , he felt his heart drop . 

No you couldn't have left. Not again,  not after he finally found you again. 

The soft sea breeze washed over his soft features but he never felt colder. 

Water , he needed water as you always said “drink water to swallow a bitter pill , to calm your frayed your nerves” 

As he headed to the kitchen to drink a glass of water , his eyes fell on the turquoise blue bracelet you bought back on one of your trips. He also had a red one and when they were close to each other they both turned purple. 

He picked the bracelet that was resting on top of a nicely folded up letter. 

He took it with trembling hands , breathing shallow,  heart beating so fast he could hear the frantic thump thump in his ear. 

“The trick your mind can do” 

That was the first sentence of your letter. He recognized your handwriting immediately,  the soft cursive he admired so many times staring back at him.

 

“I am sorry for forgetting about you so many times” 

The first tear fell on the sandy paper, heart twisting painfully in his chest at your words.

You didn't have to be sorry , he wasn't mad , he would never be.

“I hurt you so much , yet you still keep loving me. I wonder why ? Why would you keep living through this loop of suffering and heartache?” 

Because without you everything is dull and devoid of anything,  because without you he felt like a void. 

“Rafayel I am sorry but I can't,  I can't keep doing this to you. You deserve to be free”  

No , he didn't , he'd be your prisoner forever if that means he'll have you by his side every day of his pitiful existence. 

“To be happy” a scoff . How could he be happy now that his happiness has walked away. 

“now I know how this story will end , how it always ends and I refuse to make you suffer longer. I'd rather lose somebody than use somebody , so please accept my sincere apologies and let me go , for both our sakes.” 

The tears were blurring his vision now making it hard to breathe,  soft shiny Pearls rolling against his cheek to fall on the cold ground. 

“Take care of yourself, me  and my love will always be there for you but never within reach. 

                   Your love from the surface” 

Rafayel drop to his knees,  the pain unbearable , his chest feeling too tight.

Why does this keep happening? Why do you keep leaving him? Why ? Why ? Why ? 

All he wanted was to keep you by his side , forever. But now you were gone. 

Soft sobs escaped his parted lips, his eyes reddening from the tears , pearls surrounding his frame on the cold ground. 

His love left him again, after waiting for 800 years , she left again leaving him a tumbling mess of pain and heartache. 

Taglist: @jinwoosbabyboo @yourlocalcatscammer @mangooes @sunsethw4 @syluslittlekitten @poisonf0rest

[sometimesiship]

[stewy]

very anti disney lately but i must admit that you've got a friend in me still makes me want to **** myself

[luvyeni]

⠀ ( drabble ) finally forever ̨ ! ୨୧ 一 박성훈 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ sunghoon tying himself to you for once and for all  ヾ

yandere!sunghoon・ reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ yandere ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎mentions of murder, ‎ ‎unprotected sex, breeding kink, crying kink‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ wc ・ ‎0.8k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ ‎click to library

request. yandere sunghoon smut PLEASE, your yan work has got me salivating. It can be any scenario you would like (punishment, stokeholm syndrome i hope u get what I mean) love your work !! take care. 🫶

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 hope this is what you wanted 🫶🏽🩷

you no longer walked on eggshells when sunghoon was around like you did when you first started whatever it is you had — you no longer fought with him about leaving ; in fact you hated when he'd leave or when he said he'd take you out. . . all you wanted was to have him to yourself.

sunghoon didn't see that at first; he thought you were just trying to fuck with him , waiting for him to let his guard down just to leave , so he tried everything to get to you — chaining you up to your bed , leaving you without food; that didn't work , he'd come home to you sitting on the bed , waiting for him.

he even tried bringing another girl home; no he had no intentions of sleeping with her , she was purely there just to see if you squirmed; and when you didn't , instead you cried , he killed her , there was no use for her and of course he couldn't let her go , you being tied to the bed kinda threw her off and he didn't want her to call the cops — even then you didn't do anything , not a flinch or anything.

he didn't even console you as you cried thinking he was tired of you — he still didn't fully believe it , he believed this was all an act , that was until you wrapped your arms around him , begging for him to never leave him , that you needed him; that you wouldn't be able to go on without him… that's when he knew he had you.

“you'd die without me?” he said , you sniffled, nodding your head. “stop all that whining , i killed her you saw it.” he said. “i was never gonna sleep with her.” your eyes were red, tears streaming down your face — it was fucking turning him on. “pl-please don't do that again.” you said. “you've acted like a bitch this entire time , why should i listen to you.”

“you know how much trouble you put me through? how many people died because of you?” he grabbed both your hands. “things won't change that easily because you suddenly love me , you still need to be punished.” he dragged you back to the room , throwing you the bed. “you want me to believe that you really won't leave?” he said , cuffing both hands , binding you back to the bed. “then shut the fuck up and let me do what i want to you.”

you laid there; no resistance as he pulled your pants down , leaving you in the underwear he bought. “you love me now?” pulling his pants down , freeing his cock from his underwear , it was your first time ever seeing his dick. “y-yeah.” you stuttered , pulling your panties to the side. “look at this wet cunt , no matter if this shit is just an act , this pussy is definitely singing a different tune.”

“i-i do love you.” you cried out. “i-i swear.” he let out a tsk sound. “then show me.” was the last thing he said before stuffing you completely full of his cock. “oh yeah fuck!” he groaned , wasting no time in thrusting into you. “so warm , fuck i waited so long for this.” he gripped your waist , holding your waist in his hands , as he began to pound into you. “hoonie fuck!”

he never heard that nickname came out your mouth , but it only encouraged him to fuck you deeper , and with much more force. “shit , should just use this little pussy until you can't take it anymore.” he hissed. “forget if you cum or not.” he slapped your cunt. “sunghoon.” you screamed pulling at the restraints. “use you as my cum dump.”

you began to tear up again , he was being really mean. “keep crying , show me how sorry you are.” you sobbed out and apology after apology , not even sure what you were apologizing for. “im sorry , im so sorry.” you said in between sobs. “please let me cum , i need to cum , please i love you so much.” he heard enough , plus he was on the brink of cumming himself. “cum , cum now.”

he gave your clit a few slaps as you came , creaming his cock , tightening around him. “fuck I'm gonna fill you up , keep you pregnant with my kids so you'll have no choice to stay.” he didn't really like the idea of child , but if was to get reassurance that you'd stayed with him then so be it. “fuck im gonna cum inside you.”

“please hoonie , please fill me with your cum.” you begged , he gave you a few more thrust, stilling his hips as his cock pumped a load of his cum into you. “fuck , you're mine.” he groaned. “this is my fucking pussy.” his hand coming up to your throat. “you're mine , and a few kids will solidify that.”

“gonna fuck a few brats inside you so you'll be stuck with me forever.”

©LUVYENI

[ozzgin]

I love your reader insert stuff!! The yandere yazuka series was vvvv entertaining, I wish I had a big scary gangster to scare away my stalker lol

If you are open to requests, how about Idol!Reader x Yandere!Bodyguard. I love the trope so much, and I'm interested and what you'd do with the idea. No worries if you're not interested tho!

Best wishes

-🌟

I just finished writing it and you've got me punching the air with your prompt. It wasn't really my thing but I'm now sold. Thank you for the trope idea. :’)

Yandere!Bodyguard x Idol!Reader (I)

Short scenario featuring your bodyguard that takes his duty a little too seriously. Not that you’d mind…

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

TW: violence

(Cover from the manga “A girl and her guard dog”)

"Fantastic show tonight!"

The older man guides you in and closes the door behind him. You smile warmly and seat yourself on the sofa. He quickly follows, although at a terribly uncomfortable proximity. His legs are pressed against yours and he extends an arm behind you, pretending to stretch. You shuffle awkwardly and lock your hands in your lap. You can already tell where this is going.

"With your talent, I'm confident we could triple the number of attendants. We just need a bigger venue." He nods at you and taps your thigh with his other free hand as encouragement. You notice the wedding band digging into his skin. 

"Alas, let us not waste the evening with business talk. I'm sure a stunning lady like you has better things to do." He laughs at his own compliment and ponders for a minute. "In fact, why don't we have dinner together? I know a great restaurant in the area."

You open your mouth to speak, but are distracted by the sudden, mild pressure on your leg. Somehow, his greasy fingers have wandered further up in the time you listened to his shameless offer. You've been in this career for long enough to guess what such proposals entail. If you say no, best case scenario he presses further, calling you a stuck up bitch and reminding you who has the power in this partnership. Worst case scenario, he leaves the room and the calls and invitations to perform will gradually drop. 

Yet your situation is special, benefitting from an additional possibility. A loophole, if you may.

Should you scream? Oh, he always gets so angry when you act scared. It's an immediate trigger. He really has a soft spot for your glistening, frightened eyes. You glance up one final time at the perverted smirk silently disregarding you. If you are to be honest with yourself, you'd very much enjoy seeing it wiped off forever. Why not? You're feeling particularly mean today.

So without hesitation, you release a high pitched yell of help. The door bursts open and the hinges creak. A tall, toned man walks in, and without a word he lunges at the manager, pulling him by the collar of his cheap dress jacket. You hold your cheeks dramatically, and bat your eyelashes at your bodyguard.

"H-he tried to molest me..." you mumble between sobs.

That's all he needs to proceed. Now the real fun begins. You can hear the muffled screams of protest. The bones crack and the flesh bends under his iron fists. Standing before your bodyguard, they all end up looking like ragdolls. Comically limp and weak, folding and breaking with no resistance. It amuses you greatly.

When did it all begin? You can't remember anymore. You were in your early years and this scary looking stranger entered your little backstage room. His explanation was brief and to the point: as your fame increases, so will the threats to your safety. He was appointed as your bodyguard. You couldn't care less, so you just shrugged. 

You've always been on the playful side. Not necessarily rude, just some innocent tease and banter wherever it's well received. Seeing him so quiet and stoic, you couldn't help but try to push his buttons: changing in front of him and requiring his assistance, occasionally asking him to pick you up and carry you because you could no longer walk. Naturally you would've stopped at the first complaint, but that's the strange part: no reaction ever came. He went along with everything. You assumed it's part of the job. Celebrities aren't known for their good manners, so hiring someone that loses their temper easily would be a fast ticket to termination.

Then you had your first encounter with one of the unpleasant fans you've been warned about. You could only stare in terror at your bodyguard's feral, unhinged reaction. The unfortunate fan's face was so disfigured, you wondered if anyone could ever manage to fix it back into shape. The bodyguard was panting and you could see the sweat coating his face and chest. You were rather confident there were many other ways to deal with it and this wasn't on the recommended list. Thus you felt compelled to ask the million dollar question:

"You act like a jealous spouse. Do you have a crush on me or something?"

You kind of regretted your audacity towards a man that had just nearly killed someone. But his features softened instantly and he turned to you, wiping his forehead and straightening his collar. 

"I suppose so. Is that an issue?"

As you stared ahead, processing his unbothered act, you sensed your cheeks feverishly burning. Uh oh. You hadn't anticipated such a nonchalant confession. You thought back to all the times you stood before him, bare and flirty. Was he merely holding back his urges the entire time? Or was he finally paying you back for all the teasing? Then again, his face didn't betray any hint of humor.

"I've never heard you joke before", you decided to test the waters.

"I'm not. Why would I joke about something like this?" He gazed at you incredulously. 

As somber and honest as ever. Well, that would indeed explain why he'd let you get away with the cheeky behavior. The more you considered it, the more entranced you became with the idea of indulging in such a relationship. As a famous idol, you couldn't be seen dating anyone. One rumor of you having a boyfriend and the agency would've had your ass suspended. But no one said anything about messing around with your bodyguard. He has to be with you all the time, so no one would suspect a thing. And you could definitely expand his list of responsibilities. You'd been terribly stressed lately, after all, and an outlet to release your frustrations would be most welcomed. Your bodyguard would never refuse pleasing his beloved.

You chuckled and pulled him towards your dressing room, giddy with excitement. Something about his imposing presence, like a wild animal that had just escaped from the leash, aroused you to no end. You've had your share of crazy fans, but this was the cherry on top. 

"Should we leave?"

You're jolted out of your daydreams by his low, rough voice. Ah, you missed the grand finale. Too bad. The bodyguard approaches you, with the shirt wrinkled and the top buttons popped open under the shuffle of his vicious attack. You can feel the knot forming in your stomach.

"Not yet. You know how I get when you act like this..." You pout and look away. "You need to take care of me first."

He grins at your last statement.

"Of course. Is the sofa okay?"

You nod.

"Then let's get you undressed, miss."

Is this what they call a scary dog privilege? 

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Hi! I love all your work sm I just had to say that first 💕💕

I wanted to know if I could request something nsfw with sevika disciplining the reader, sevika is Silcos second hand and the reader messes up a mission or something and silcos sends sevika to correct the behavior🤭🤭

Content: Fingering (R! receiving), edging / slight orgasm denial, Sevika and her trusty cigar (I personally hate smoke but I had to make this accurate), spit kink, dom! Sevika and submissive reader, Sevika is rough with reader but it's all consensual, degradation + praise we love to see it

HII THANK YOU!! Your support means sm to me as a writer<3 This is my first time writing for Sevika which surprises me because I literally love her so much but I hope it's good:) Everyone thank anon for suggesting this

Sevika had you completely nude on her lap, pussy dripping down onto the thigh you were straddling. Three of her fingers were deep inside you, filling you to the brim. The thing was, she just wasn't moving them.

"S-Sev!! Please, just fuck me.." You whine, sounding almost comedically pathetic.

Sevika doesn't budge, though. You can only see the slight tug up-ward at her lips, a slightly cocky smile as she takes a drag off of her cigar to bluster smoke onto your unfortunately tortured face.

"Nuh-uh, baby. Only good girls who do the one thing they were told to do get fucked by me." She only curls her fingers upwards towards you g-spot, teasing you before once again not making a single movement. You practically sob at the sudden jolt of heat that her action sends through you, grasping onto her even more tightly than you already are.

It's pathetic how she so effortlessly has you screaming from just her fingers being inside you. You know you can't cum from that alone, and you can't even move because you know that if you do, you'll have no chance of redemption from her at all. You hate this more than you'd hate regular punishments. Maybe if she had you disciplined like Silco intended, then you wouldn't be so goddamn embarrassing, walls tightening around her fingers, your body involuntarily begging to be given release. Instead, you're tortured in the best way possible. You wish she'd just send you to do some dirty job instead of this.. but you still feel so filled up.

Sevika kills the cigar, putting it out on the table so that she can grip your face tightly in her metallic hand. "You fucked up today," her voice is suddenly more less teasing and more actual scolding because as much as she'd like to just fuck you as a punishment, you won't learn from it. "You could've had us all jeopardized, you know that?"

You wince as her grip tightens and try to nod, to focus on the suddenly serious conversation even with her warm, calloused hands sending slight spasms of pleasure throughout your pussy every time there's a slight movement. "I know, and I promise I won't do it again!" You try to get the rest of your speech out without any unnecessary noises, "Please, Sev.. It was a mistake."

Her eyes soften just slightly, but her grip remains. "Open your mouth. Right now." You oblige so quickly, opening wide and sticking your tongue out because you know what's to come. Sevika spits directly onto your awaiting tongue and you swallow without hesitation. She finally smiles with a the warmth of satisfaction showing through the lines, and you feel so much relief.

Sevika may be harsh with you and intimidating, particularly hot, but she still cared about you. She was worried about you, to put it plainly. She saw you as her girl to take care of, and if Silco was the one disciplining you, it wouldn't be sexy. It'd be actual physical torture. She had to keep you safe from that, and meant making sure you fuck up less. It meant at least trying to get you to listen, even during these intense sessions.

"Good girl. You wanna cum now, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. Please.." Your body is begging to cum, after all the talk and lecture portion of this 'punishment', what you really need is the reward part. Sevika is so gracious, giving you a small smack on the ass with her shimmer-powered arm to get a cute squeak out of you.

"Ride my fingers, baby." And like the good girl that you are, you quickly make sure to grasp onto her shoulders for support grind against her fingers as they pump up into your drenched cunt on their own, curling so perfectly against your walls to make you see stars.

"F-Fuck!! Sev-" You can't even moan out her whole name, your body feeling so much relief all at once and yet not enough, "Fuck, you're fillin' me so nice." You know you should have some dignity and not let yourself scream say such lewd things, not hump her hand like a desperate dog, but you can't help it. She's watching your expressions, listening to your words and you can't disappoint her. You need to cum all over her knuckles.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" Her voice, so deep and lovely just sends you right over whatever cliff was in your way of cumming.

"I'm cumming, Sev!!" Your walls clench and squeeze at her fingers as she pounds them knuckle-deep into your hole, causing your thighs to quiver and almost threaten to give out. Still, all you can focus on is the revelry she sends through your entire body which each wave of pleasure. It's almost mind-numbing and all you can think to yourself is, "I am never gonna fuck up another mission again." You'd be sure not to if it meant that Sevika would fuck you like this anytime you wanted to until your orgasm finally left your body, until your cunt that was so greedy for her was finally satisfied.

Maybe that was the point, though. Sevika wasn't stupid. If she withheld from you long enough, you'd eventually break. This was your break. And she was proven to be right, because the next few missions following were smooth sailing, and every time you needed some encouragement, she'd just fuck you senseless until you remembered to be more careful.

[c0ffinshit]

Simon (John Q.) SFW AND NSFW Headcanons

a/n: i knew yall would like that so here are so hcs that i had that i can now share with the world

warnings: controversial, mentions of pussy eating, me speaking my truth

SFW:

okay, first off, this man claims to HATE modern music but… he has a soft spot for Fiona Apple

listen, this man is madddd and if he were a woman he would be a mean butch lesbian

he always drives you everywhere

even when you’re like “babe i can drive its fine” he’s like “no, i’ll drive”

he tells people his favorite movie is something film bro-y like fight club, but his favorite movie is something like little shop of horrors or when harry met sally

sorry im projecting

honestly, he is bad about talking about his emotions like homie doesn't have the words for it so he just gets angry

BUT he learns a lot from you about that

actually, you learn a lot from him too

he talks so highly of you, even before dating

like always talks about how he can hardly have a good and controlled day without you

if you two are a long distance away, he'll always call you and talk about your day

but even then, you two will stay on the phone for hours, just talking about whatever and how much you miss each other

always tries to be a sweet boyfriend and make you breakfast

expect he will burn it and the kitchen will be on fire

i will say this: simon is a sensitive boy, esp with people's emotions like if you're sad and crying about something you called 'stupid' he'll still hold you and tell you how not stupid it is

he HATES when you're upset, esp if he can't do anything to help you

he'll just sadly watch you til you feel better

and when you do, he'll get you your favorite blanket and stuffed animals and kiss you like the good bf. HE. IS.

sorry, my daddy issues are on full display *sobs*

definitely doesn't like it when you call him babygirl or pookie

even as a joke

the man doesn't get that

my man has an old soul IM SO FR

like he doesn’t really like modern TV or music

movies… that a different story

HE FUCKING LOVES MOVIES.

especially if it is like a movie musical or high fantasy (like lotr or hobbit)

maybe a comedy but like a comedy from like the '60s that is probably super offensive now

nfsw under the cut

NSFW:

first off, do i agree with the top allegations for simon? kinda.

listen listen, i only say kinda because of the fact that this man has angry ISSUES

like if you are being a brat, this man doesn’t hold back definitely into spanking for this reason

OKAY I HAVE A THING… when you two do it together, he is very… parental (if that makes sense)

like yes he is daddy we know but like he is the type to whisper “this is for your own good” as he spanks you

two words: BODY. WORSHIP.

this man will kiss and touch your body like it's your last day on earth

AUGH AND AND the look he gives you when he’s inside you FUCKKKKKKK

the look is filled with so much love and gratitude for you okay like this needs to be stated at all but like 8 inches

the type of 8 inches that hits against your cervix in the right way

AND ANOTHER THING when you two first get together, his libido is very low

which also means he is very easy to take care of

soooooo if you wanted to just do a blowjob, you hypothetically could

but then, like three or four months into dating, HORN DOG.

you're surpised when he isn't pressing against your while cuddling

but if anything, you’ll be the one getting head, not him

THIS MAN IS PUSSY WHIPPED.

like he will grab your thighs and pull you closer while eating you out he lovesssss hearing your moans when you're under him UGH

dude but like on the rare time like he will bottom, its lowkey kinda…

JOHN Q IS A SWITCH AND I WILL CONTINUE TO SPEAK MY TRUTH

this mfer groans like no tomorrow when he does bottom

soft,,,, begg…ing

like “you’re so good.” and then under his breath its “please keep going.”

also that boy has a praise kink with hints of degradation

am i saying that because i wrote a whole fic about it? yes. fuck yes.

im chewing at the bars of my enclosure

he gets so blushy when you look at him with your fuck-me eyes

COMMUNICATE WITH THAT BOY.

tell him what you want

tell him where you want it

tell him about your fantasies of him

he loves hearing your voice, especially when you talk in a soft and seductive voice

listen, the only reason i kinda don’t agree with the top allegations is because i believe JOHN Q IS A SERVICE TOP.

i've made my point very clear about that throughout this section

[rafesbabygirlx]

Oh it Hurts?

Masterlist

Rafe x Reader

Warnings: smut, overstimulation mean taunting Rafe

You're a blabbering mess beneath Rafe, barely able to keep yourself together as he ravages you. His grip on your hips is brutal, like he could snap you in half if he wanted to. Your head is buried in the pillows, and the friction is making your face burn with embarrassment and pleasure.

Your pussy is raw, your clit is swollen and sensitive, “I love the way you look right now." Rafe growls in your ear. He’s been fucking you for hours, trying to set some sort of record for how many times I can make you come.

"Rafe, please," you whimper, your cheeks flushed bright red as tears stream down your face. This is the fifth orgasm he's trying to get out of you, and you're not sure how much more you can take.

But Rafe doesn't care. He slaps your ass, hard, and laughs in your face. "Please what, slut?" he sneers. "You love this, you love being stretched out and filled up by my cock."

He keeps pounding into you, his thrusts rough and brutal. You're gasping for air, your mouth open in a silent scream of pleasure and pain.

"You're lucky you have someone like me to make you feel this way," Rafe rasps, his breath hot on your neck. "You're lucky I made you my girl, what would you do without my cock stuffing you like this?"

"Ra- oh god," you manage to gasp out, your body trembling with the effort of holding back your orgasm.

Rafe yanks your hair, hard, pulling you up and wraps his hand around your throat. "Use your words, baby," he growls, his fingers digging into your skin. "I can't understand you."

"It's too much," you choke out, your voice barely audible from his grip around your throat. "I can't take it anymore."

But Rafe isn't listening. He reaches down and starts rubbing your clit at a frantic pace, his fingers rough and unrelenting. "You can and you will," he snarls, his eyes blazing with intensity. "You want to walk around in those shorts like a little slut, don't you? Then you better want to be fucked like a good little slut."

He lets go of your throat but not the pace on your clit. Not being able to hold yourself up on your own your body falls forward back onto the bed as an orgasm crashes over you, your mind blanking out in a rush of pleasure and pain. You're not sure how much more you can take, but Rafe doesn't seem to care. He keeps going, his cock pounding into you like a jackhammer, until you're a sobbing, gasping, begging mess beneath him.

And still, he doesn't stop. He keeps fucking into you, his eyes burning with a fierce, unrelenting passion, until you're raw and exhausted and completely at his mercy.

Rafe thrusts one final time before releasing inside you. Exhausted, you collapse onto the bed. Seeing your flushed face, Rafe pulls out and holds you close, his touch surprisingly tender. He kisses you softly, contrasting his previous roughness.

As you lie in his arms, you feel a sense of contentment. Rafe is capable of both extremes - demanding lover and tender partner.

You're not sure if this is love or abuse, but you know one thing for sure: you're addicted to the way Rafe makes you feel. And you'll do anything to get more.

[sourbinnie]

☆ hit me where it hurts.mp3 ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst ¡! ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> hyung line!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> sometimes things shouldn't be said (or thought) but the words slip right out of his mouth at the worst time. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> arguments ; the boys being a little mean but instantly regretting it ; cursing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

maknae line

a/n: first reaction ¡! i decided i would go with the "compares you" part. hope i did it well for yall and to the person who requested it, thank u!!! i'll publish maknae line whenever i'm free:]

chan ✉

arguments could get pretty heated with chan sometimes (he's a libra at the end of the day). it could get stressful since you've been going back & forth for so long now, as you tried to make him understand that he wasn't taking care of himself but it only brought back hurtful words that you were letting it pass under the excuse that he was "too tired". maybe you were too naive at that moment thinking that he would calm down and you guys would solve it like you always do.

then you heard it, he didn't say their name but you could only imagine who he was talking about at that point and time. 

"they would just leave me alone and let me be, why can't you do the same? ah right you're not them and you will never be." he said and horror washed him instantly as they realized what they did. fights were inevitable but you can always keep comments to yourself right? it was just the heat of the moment that made him slip out such cruel words. as soon as you were turning away to leave, he was trying to find his way to you but it was too late anyways. "baby nono, don't leave not right now, it's late and i was fucking stupid. i'm so fucking sorry-."

"i just need some space right now, yeah? i need to be away from you." you said and that only made him worry even more as that's the last thing he wanted right now. "just let me christopher, we'll talk when i get back." 

"don't call me that, i'm still your channie, your boyfriend and i still fucking love you. listen i'm sorry but please don't go." he said close to the tears falling from his eyes and you just shook your head as you grabbed your things and he followed you around the house like a lost puppy. "(y/n) let's work this out yeah? i'll go to the dorms tonight and you'll stay here."

eventually knowing he wouldn't give up, you just nodded as you went to your shared bedroom and sighed. letting the tears finally from your eyes and hearing the door close was enough to let your sobs out from how much those words stung in your heart.

minho ✉ 

fighting with minho wasn't easy. his witty responses and his hurtful comments always stood out like daggers in your heart. he usually didn't fight at all but when he did, most of the time he took it too far and it wasn't easy to forget what he said. as the new comeback approached, you tried your best to be supportive but when you couldn't see them on their first win, it hurt minho. he wanted you to be there, backstage or in the crowd cheering for them but he did not see you anywhere. turns out you were too late, had a "work" emergency, he called bullshit on that.

"i'm sorry min, i'll promise i'll be on the next one. my boss really needed me and-." he cut you off immediately, not wanting to hear it.

"it's fine. it's not like they would miss out on this like you did. maybe i should just get back with them." he muttered and it was enough for you to walk away from him. all the boys were there to talk to him about what just happened and why were you crying but he was completely petrified from your reaction and how you just went away without a word. "god i'm such a fucking idiot." he said as he chased after you through the hallways.

"don't even try talking to me. i get that you're fucking mad but that doesn't give you an excuse to say stuff like that." you said as you still walked away and didn't even look in his direction. minho tried to process what was happening all at once but couldn't bare to see the look in your eyes as the tears were still going down your face.

"please listen to me for a second. it was stupid that i got mad, i should've understood you from the beginning but please stay and i'll make it up to you. i promise." he said and even if it did sound sincere, you just couldn't do it.

"i'm sorry, i think i wanna be alone tonight." you said as you looked at him one last time and kissed his cheek before muttering "goodbye minho" and walking through the door. leaving a distraught and regretful minho behind.

changbin ✉ 

it wasn't rare for you to fight with changbin, what was rare was when he got mad. this time when you were at the studio, making sure 3racha were feeling well and not overworking themselves, you were met with a furious bin. it surprised you, you've never seen him mad and maybe something else was happening that you didn't know or you chose the worst time to visit the studio. whatever it was, it made you feel so small and like you were in a place you did not belong. jisung and chan weren't even there to witness it but you guessed that as soon as they heard, they left you guys alone.

"look i'm sorry. i don't know what i did wrong but that doesn't excuse your attitude and how you're treating me right now!" you said but it wasn't enough to his ears as he gave you the next words.

"god i can never say anything, at least with them they would let me express myself. i should've never broken up with them if i knew i was gonna end up with you." ouch was all that could be said about that as you nodded and felt the water in your eyes grow slowly. "shit- i'm so fucking sorry, i don't know what came over me baby."

he tried to get close to you but you just took a step back and that broke changbin's heart completely. it made him feel like a monster in front of you but he couldn't blame you for that, it was all his fault in the end. when he saw you walk away, as much as he wanted to, he decided not to follow you and let you go. he couldn't describe what he was feeling when he saw you practically run away from the building and not answer for jisung's calls since he was just walking in with chan. 

"what the fuck happened hyung?" jisung asked as he crossed his arms and that's when changbin lost the control of his tears. he wasn't one to usually cry but he was now gonna be haunted with muttering those words to you and what he made you feel in that moment.

"i fucked it up like i always do." he said brokenly.

hyunjin ✉

as much as you loved hyunjin, he got so petty in fights it was irritating. he was the definition of drama queen and he could fight on & on about the tiniest of details. like right now when you just got home and you forgot to do some things in your shared apartment. tiny things like the dishes or the laundry usually didn't piss him off but today when he got home practice and saw, in his words, that the whole house was upside down, he got stressed. 

"look i'm sorry, i forgot to do it and i know you've been busy with practice. i'll do it tomorrow since i get to go home earlier." you tried to explain but he just shook his head and crossed his arms.

"tomorrow? are you serious? they would've done it right here and now and wouldn't be putting up excuses like you're doing." he didn't even have to mention them for you to know who he was talking about. it felt like twisting the knife on the wound as you just looked at him with the most hurtful stare.

"of course they would. they didn't have a job in the first place and relied on you for everything!" you said and laughed bitterly but in a sad way. "if it's my job then it's a problem but with your job there's literally no excuse right? 'cause it's more important. grow up hyunjin." 

"look babe i'm sorry. i don't know what the fuck i was thinking when i said that." he tried to make up an excuse at the moment but he knew nothing would justify what he said and implied with his words. it was met with a sigh from you and it was your turn to shake your head. "i don't think your job is less important and i shouldn't have said what i said-."

"but you said it." you whispered and decided to head to your shared bedroom to lock the door. you needed some time alone not only because of the harsh words but because it made you process your whole relationship in a flashback. 

[rafecameronssl4t]

Trapped || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

gif by @whumpypepsigal

Summary: canon fic based off season 2 episode 9

Warnings: swearing, reader dr*gs Sarah, mention of dead body, reader lowk is abit crazy

Word count: 1,463

A/n: guys I acc have an addiction to writing canon fics but I can’t help myself, they’re so fun to write 😭

MASTERLIST

divider by @yoonitos

"What the hell!" Sarah screamed, throwing another wine glass at the door, its contents spraying everywhere. "You asshole!" she continued, banging her fist against the wood. "Rafe! Let me out!"

"I'm not letting you out, Sarah. Not until you calm down, okay?" Rafe's voice came through the door, surprisingly calm despite Sarah's outburst. "Screw you!" Sarah fired back, frustration evident in her voice.

Walking down the staircase, you were startled awake by the commotion. "Rafe, what's going on?" you called out, confusion etched on your face as Rafe turned to face you, "who is that?". "Y/n?" Sarah's voice came from behind the door, filled with relief.

"Sarah?" you said incredulously, glancing between Rafe and the locked door. "Yeah," Rafe replied casually, causing your breath to hitch in disbelief. "Why is she locked in there?" you asked, trying to make sense of the situation. "Rafe locked me in here!" Sarah's voice was strained with frustration and panic.

"She's in there because sometimes you have to make the hard choice, right?" Rafe explained as you stare at him in shock, "she just didn't get that," he continues with a shrug. "Right choice? What- what the fuck is going on, Rafe. You're scaring me," you gulp, your voice trembling as you tried to comprehend the situation, your eyes darting from the door to Rafe.

"You fail to understand that constantly, don't you? Huh?"Rafe's voice rose slightly as he banged his hand against the door. "Shut the hell up!" Sarah yelled from inside the room, her desperation audible as you run a hand through your hair, your mind racing with a thousand thoughts.

"You need to calm down!" Rafe shouted at the door, his frustration palpable. You reached out and gripped his shoulders firmly. As Sarah’s screams echoed through the room—“What do you mean, calm down? What is wrong with you?”—you closed your eyes briefly, steadying yourself. Placing your hands on either side of Rafe’s face, you forced him to look at you.

“Go upstairs. I’ve got this,” you said, managing to keep your voice calm. Rafe hesitated, then nodded, seemingly trusting you. “All right,” he agreed, but you noticed his eyes flicking back toward the door. “Just go!” you insisted, your tone firmer. As he finally turned and walked up the stairs, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart while watching him disappear from view.

Turning back to the door, you approached it slowly. "Sarah," you called out gently. "Can you let me out?" Sarah's voice came back, filled with desperation. "I need you to calm down, Sarah," you urged softly, bracing yourself as Sarah continued to pound on the door. "Let me out!" she sobbed, her fear palpable.

"I really want to help you, Sarah, but I need to get the key first, okay?" you explained patiently, trying to soothe her panic. "I can't let you out without the key. Sarah, listen to me," you said firmly, your voice unwavering despite the urgency of the situation. "I promise you, I won't let Rafe do anything to you. But I need you to stay calm. Can you do that for me? I'll be right back."

"No, no, no, no," Sarah repeated, her voice trembling with panic as you stepped away from the door. "Y/n! Y/n! Please... please don't leave!" she pleaded desperately, her distress palpable.

When you made it upstairs, Rafe was nowhere to be found. You hurried to the kitchen, riffling through the medicine drawer. "What are you doing?" Wheezie's voice came from behind, making you jump. Your hand flying to your chest to steady your racing heart. "Jesus, Wheez, don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Go back to your room, you should be asleep right now," you said, still searching through the pill bottles until you found what you were looking for. "What is that for?" Wheezie questions, coming closer to you. "It's for me," you replied, trying to stay calm as you set up a tea set on a tray. "I can't sleep."

"Right," Wheezie nodded as you glanced at her. "Go to bed, Eloise. I'm serious," you insisted, your tone firm as she raised her hands in surrender. "All right, all right," she muttered, and you watched her retreat upstairs.

Letting out a shaky breath, you opened the teapot and placed it on the stove, letting it steep for a few moments. Then, grabbing the keys from the counter, you collected the tea set and headed downstairs.

Unlocking the door with a quiet click, it creaked open slowly. "Sarah?" you called out, seeing her scramble towards you. Her eyes were red and puffy, her appearance disheveled. "I need to call 911. We need to—" Her voice trembled with urgency, but you gently took her hand.

"Okay, sit down," you urged, guiding her to the armchair. "Sarah, it's okay," you said softly, trying to calm her as she struggled to catch her breath. "Tell me what happened." You sat beside her, speaking in a soothing tone. "Take deep breaths. In and out. That's it," you encouraged, mirroring your breaths with hers. "It's okay."

"It's okay," you repeated reassuringly, pouring tea into a cup. With a shaky voice, Sarah began to explain. "I came home, and, um, I was looking for something. And there's a truck outside," she said, taking the tea cup you passed to her.

"Here, here. Take some tea," you said gently, helping Sarah hold the cup in her shaky hands. "There's a body back there, y/n!" she whispered, tears streaming down her face, and your eyes widened in shock.

"We need to turn him in," Sarah's voice cracked as she took sips of the tea. "We'll get to the bottom of it, okay?" you reassured her, though your own voice trembled slightly. "Will you help me call?" Sarah asked with a shaky voice, and your heart broke knowing what lay ahead.

"I will help you. Here, drink more," you encouraged, guiding the cup close to her mouth while pretending to drink from your own. "I'm afraid Rafe has killed someone else," Sarah's words made you pause, setting the cup back down. "And last time he did that... Dad took the blame, and you see where that got him," she sniffled, and you listened intently.

"Sarah, you're right. Something is wrong with Rafe, okay?" You affirmed softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand in reassurance. Sarah nodded, her tears flowing freely now. “I’m so tired of it,” she sobbed. "I know. You just need to calm down. It's gonna be okay," you offered her a gentle smile, your hand patting her thigh reassuringly. "You need to rest, Sarah."

"I don't need—" Sarah began, her voice trembling as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "No, you do," you interjected gently but firmly as you knelt beside her. "I'm fine!" Sarah insisted, her words strained as she leaned back in the chair, her whole body tense with anxiety.

"And then, when you wake up, everything's gonna be so much better," you said softly, trying to reassure her. "Yeah, I'm gonna come with you guys on this little trip. What do you think about that?" you suggested, watching Sarah's gaze drop to the cup in her trembling hands. Her breathing grew heavy, and she seemed overwhelmed.

“What—what did you do?” Sarah whispered, looking at you with a mixture of fear and betrayal, tears welling in her eyes, mirrored by your own. "Sarah, I'm really sorry," your voice cracked with emotion as you pulled out the pill bottle. Sarah's face fell as she stared at it, realization dawning.

"Nothing bad is gonna happen to you, I promise. I promise nothing bad is gonna happen to you, but I needed you to rest," you pleaded, tears now streaming down your face as Sarah shook her head in disbelief,

"No, no, no. You're just like him, you're just like Rafe, I—" You couldn't bear to hear Sarah's words, your eyes screwing shut and your hand instinctively covering your mouth. Just like Rafe. The words echoed painfully in your mind.

"I had to do it, Sarah. You won't understand," you murmured sadly, shaking your head at her. But Sarah's eyes rolled back, her body suddenly going limp, the cup slipping from her fingers and clattering to the floor. “I’m so sorry,” You whispered, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you leave.

~

“Rafe,” you called out weakly, your voice barely above a whisper as he turned around, his eyes widening in concern as he took in your disheveled appearance. “What is going on—” Your voice cracked, tears welling up in your eyes. Before you could say more, Rafe rushed over and wrapped you in a tight embrace.

You sniffled against his chest, feeling his hand move soothingly across your back in comforting circles. He kissed your forehead gently, his touch warm and reassuring. “Everything will be okay, yeah?” he murmured, trying to calm you down.

“I just talked to Sarah,” you began, your words catching in your throat. “She said there’s a body in the truck, right?”Rafe’s expression grew serious as he pulled back slightly to look at you. “That’s Renfield,” he confirmed with a deep sigh. His voice was steady, almost detached, as if he were trying to distance himself from the gravity of the situation.

You slowly pulled away from his grip, your mind racing with questions and doubts. Seeing your reaction, worry filled his eyes. “No, no, y/n. I didn’t do shit, okay? I didn’t do shit!” he insisted, his tone urgent as he tried to convince you. You studied his face, searching for any sign of deception.

“Limbrey did it. I took the truck, and I left the old lady at the hangar, all right?” Rafe explained in a calm, measured tone, stepping closer to you. You could feel your breathing quicken, your heart pounding in your chest. “I got the cross for all of us, okay?”

Your hand came up to your forehead, a headache starting to throb painfully. “This is all so much—” you whispered, feeling overwhelmed by what just happened. Noticing your panic, Rafe gently took your hands in his. “Here, you need to sit down,” he said softly, guiding you to an armchair and helping you to sit.

As you sank into the chair, Rafe knelt beside you, his eyes never leaving yours. “I got the cross for all of us, okay?” he spoke, his voice steady. You remained quiet, focusing on steadying your breathing. “Okay?” Rafe repeated, his voice rising slightly in urgency. You quickly nodded, hoping to calm him down.

“And I was just getting ready to take care of Renfield when you came up,” Rafe continued, his tone shifting to one of anger and annoyance. You looked at him in disbelief. “Why are you getting mad at me right now—” you began, but Rafe cut you off.

“You should be… you should be thanking me,” he insisted, his gaze intense and unyielding. “Thanking you? What the fuck, Rafe, I just drugged Sarah for you,” you exclaimed, pushing his hand off of you in frustration. Rafe furrowed his brows, confusion mingling with anger. “I didn’t—I didn’t ask you to do that, okay—” he started, but you cut him off with a stern voice.

“What was I supposed to do, Rafe? She already knew about the body and she was freaking the fuck out. She was going to turn you in!” Your voice rose in volume, the tension between you thickening. Rafe stayed quiet, absorbing your words, the reality of the situation sinking in.

“Sarah was out of control, and I had to do something,” you continued, your voice trembling with emotion. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing. “I can’t keep doing these things for you,” you sniffled, your fingers nervously playing with the initials on your necklace, the small charm feeling like a heavy weight.

“Hey, what are you trying to say—” Rafe began, his face a mask of confusion and concern as he took a step closer to you. “But I will,” you interrupted, your voice breaking slightly. You looked up at him with a mix of resignation and love in your eyes.

“Because I love you, and I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone,” you said quietly, your heart aching with the truth of your words. Rafe’s expression softened as he reached out and pulled you into a deep, reassuring kiss. His lips were warm and familiar, a brief moment of comfort in the chaos.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me and my family. I’m serious,” Rafe murmured against your lips, his voice filled with genuine gratitude. He pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you protectively. You felt a wave of exhaustion wash over you, your body and mind drained from everything that just happened.

“Go to bed. I’ll sort it all out, okay?” Rafe said softly, helping you stand up. His hands were gentle but firm, guiding you towards the stairs. You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and weariness.

[elixrr]

“Wait, Y/N—” He stops you in your tracks. He needs a rundown. He needs a repeat on why you're leaving him. “Why— why are you—”

“Why?” You stop yourself from crying out loud, “Because you're killing yourself over me.”

He stops in his tracks. Him? Killing himself over you? What are you saying? He's fine, he's perfectly fine, as long as he's with you!

“Wh– What makes you say that? Please, love, don't go away. Don't leave, tell me what's wrong, I can make it right!”

“You were making your way back up in life before we started dating.” You begin. Your voice became soft and sorrowful, holding in layers of guilt for this poor, poor man before you. “You were making money for yourself, and you were finally helping yourself become financially stable.”

“So it's the money?” He lets out an exasperated laugh, as if he were relieved at the circumstance. He smiles with slight relief in his eyes, and he reassures you, “Don't worry! I'll find more jobs, then I'll earn enough to buy you more things. Hell, the money you gave me when... when you told me you were leaving, I– I can use it!”

His smile stays for a bit, but it fades when he watches your expression sadden.

“It wasn't about getting me gifts. You need the money for yourself, not me. I'm fine with everything I have. I gave you the money because you need it to take care of yourself again.”

You can't bear to look at his confused face. He's such a sweetheart, and it hurts like hell to leave him, but it's for the best if it means he only has to support himself, and not two people.

“But... If you just need me to be financially stable, that's fine. I can do that, then afterward, I can buy—”

“Honey, that's not it. You need the money for yourself and yourself only, don't count material things for me.”

“But— I just... I don't want you to leave. We can work this out. We can work it out together.”

You pause, hesitating. The door stands tall behind you. You don't want to leave him; he's your darling, but guilt overrides your heart, and you take your stance.

“I wanted to work it out with you, so I've tried. We've discussed this so many times, remember? But when you did become financially stable again, you wasted it all away for me on Valentine's Day. I loved that gift— I love you, I love you so much, but I can't keep watching you destroy yourself.”

He finally feels the tear rolling, and yours begin to pour.

“And since you only begin to listen when I'm on the verge of leaving, I feel like it would help you more than it would hurt if I left.”

“But I can't do this without you!”

He runs up to you, trying to hug you, but you're out the door, and he falls to the ground, sobbing on his knees and watching you leave. It's terrible, it's horrible, but he can't bring himself to stand up and chase you. To his surprise, you kneel by him and hold his cheek.

“I don't want you to do this alone. But you have to, if it means you'll be able to live again.”

And there's a pause between you two. It's raining, drizzling raindrops coat your hair and lather across your clothes, as it does with his. The air is thick; bridges are burning. This was not something he could ever recover from, but you have a whole future ahead of you, away from him. Was he holding you back the whole time? Did any of this interfere with your work? With your mental stability?

Please, take him back. Keep him with you.

“I left a great sum of money with you.” You pull yourself together and stand. Your sudden stability towers over his— considering as he lacks it. “If you section it correctly, you'll have enough to pay the bills for almost two years, and you'll have money left over for about three months to buy yourself luxurious food and some nice clothes. If you don't look for luxury, that will last you a while, more than enough to look for a whole new job.”

“I don't care.” He finally manages to cry out, and he holds your waist in a final, desperate attempt to keep you with him. “I don't care. I– I don't want money,

I just want you.”

But he can't keep you. You glance at your driver and signal for her to wait. You lift your ex-boyfriend back up and take him back into the house, seating him on the couch. You take one final look around the shabby living room, and you sigh.

“I'd tell you to come back when you can handle everything better, but by then, I'm sure you'll have met someone new.”

“But what if I don't?”

“Then feel free to come back when you're comfortable. I'm glad you're so kind and loving, but I simply just couldn't stand watching you waste your future away for me.”

You stand up and kiss him one last time. He, like usual, doesn't process it in time to kiss you back, and before he could reciprocate, you bow and wave a goodbye, and you're out the door.

You grab the doorknob and— before you close the door, you turn around and mutter the quietest, soon meaningless ‘I love you,’ and you gently close the door,

and that was the end of it all.

You said that he should build a new future for himself, but with his tearful eyes glaring hot, burning laser beams at the door, it's very safe to say that this future is starting off terribly far from a good one.

He needs a restart; he's realized it before, but he never wanted to start over like this—

He never wanted to see a future without you in it. But you're gone. All that's left are the remaining photos you haven't taken, as well as the money you've left for him.

He hears the car drive off into the distant future.

He hears the car skid into your new future.

He knows why you left him now, but he doesn't know why you needed to.

If only he could get you to repeat it one last time. But there are no repeats.

All you've really left him with is a restart.

– LYNEY, FREMINET, HEIZOU, GAMING, xiao, EARLY KUNI(KUZISHI)

[wildflowerhuggy]

Bleed // LN4

| pairing: lando norris x reader

| summary: based on the song Bleed by The Kid Laroi, i suggest listening to it while reading

| warnings: angst, followed by comfort

| authors note: was listening to this song today and kept imaging Lando for some reason

The rain outside seemed to be a mirror of the storm occurring in both your mind and chest. You were sat, curled up into a little ball, at the edge of the bed, the room in complete silence other than your soft sobs and the rain hitting your window.

Lando had never meant to hurt you, he didn't and you knew that, but that didn't mean it wasn't happening. Lately, it felt as though you were slipping through the cracks of his chaotic life like sand slipping through your fingers at the beach. Missed texts, cancelled plans, hurried goodbyes—it was all building up and you had reached the point where you could no longer hold it in.

Yesterday you had a fight, well, more like you had just finally broken down in front of him. Showing him all of the emotions you had been bottling up for weeks.

"I can't keep doing this, Lando! You're always so far away, not just physically but emotionally too! I know you're career is demanding, I understand but..." you paused trying to catch your breath, "am I even a priority anymore?"

He had tried to explain, reassure you that you were a priority, that he loved you more than anything in life, but the words fell flat. And now he wasn't here, leaving, saying he needed to get some space and clear his head.

Now here you were, staring at your phone, waiting for some sign of life. The bed you shared feeling unbearably large and empty without him in it. You turned around, staring at where your pillows lay and where you and Lando would typically be found cuddling and whispering sweet nothings to each other, only to be met with a haunting feeling that he may never return. His absence is what hurt you the most, his scent lingering in the room, a cruel reminder of the love you were desperate to hold on to and the ghost of his presence surrounding your senses.

A choked sob worked its way up your throat, and you buried your head into your hands, the weight of it all sitting heavy on your chest. You loved Lando with everything you had, but it began feeling like you were fighting a losing battle—one where you were the only one fighting.

It had been over 24 hours since he left at this point, and you couldn't stop your brain from imagining the worst. Was he somewhere else? Talking to someone who made him feel more than you ever could? Had his heart mended easily, going back to who he was before you, while you were sat in your shared bed, bleeding for his love? The poisonous thoughts were consuming your entire being.

You sniffled, pulling your legs tighter to your chest. You wanted to hate him for leaving, for making you feel this way, you really did, but you simply couldn't. The love you had for him was too strong, and all you wanted was for him to come back and hold you in his arms.

Just as you were about to give up on him coming back tonight, you heard the sound of the front door unlocking, the sharp click of the deadbolt disturbing the otherwise silent apartment. You felt your heart leap into your throat as you heard the soft sound of Lando's footsteps approaching your bedroom.

"Baby?" Lando's voice broke through the darkness, soft and cautious.

You didn't respond, too afraid your voice would betray you and give way to your inner turmoil. But as the bedroom door was slowly pushed open, his figure silhouetted by the hallway light, you felt a whole new wave of tears begin.

He looked wrecked, his hair damp and hoodie clinging to his frame from the rain. There was a defeated slump in his shoulders and his eyes were rimmed red and bloodshot. He stepped further into the room, eyes frantically finding yours.

"I'm sorry—fuck I'm so sorry," his voice cracked with unshed tears, "I shouldn't have left like that. I—oh God, I’ve been such an idiot."

You shook your head, wiping at your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater, "You don't get to just walk away like that Lando. I needed you and I was worried sick."

"I know," he said quickly, words tumbling out. "I know I let you down. I've been thinking about it the whole time I was gone. I've been letting you down for weeks, months, even. And you're right, I haven't been here for you the way I should've been."

He ran a hand through his curls, a nervous tick of his, exhaling shakily, "I love you. More than anything. And I know I've been absolute shit at showing it, but I need you to know that. I can't lose you, I never want to lose you."

You stared at him, emotions at war inside of you. His words were what you needed to hear, but they couldn't erase the hurt that he caused.

"Do you mean it?" you asked quietly, your voice trembling, "Because I don't know if I can keep doing this if things don't change. So you better mean it, Lando."

His expression softened, and he stepped closer to kneel in front of you, "I mean it," he reached for you hands to hold in his, "I'll do whatever it takes to make this right and prove that you are a priority. No more missed calls or texts, no more cancelled plans or rushed goodbyes. I'm here. With you. Always."

You searched his face, looking to see if you could spot any insincerity in his words, but all you could see was raw, heartfelt emotion. His much larger hands squeezed yours in comfort, grounding you.

"Okay," you whispered, voice cracking with the emotion you still held, "But if you ever leave me like that again Lando Norris..."

"I won't," he interrupts firmly, as if the mere idea pains him, "Never again, I swear."

For the first time in days, you felt hope. Lando quickly pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him, as if he was afraid that if he didn't squeeze you tight enough you would slip away. You clung to him just as tightly though, the storm that was brewing inside of you beginning to quiet.

Lando's hold on you remained steady as the rain continued to fall, whispering more apologies and promises to be better into your hair as you snuggled in bed. He vowed to be the partner you deserved, someone worthy of you, and you believed him for the first time in a long time.

[kinardsevan]

𝐢'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤

listen. i'm still so convinced it's Tommy up on that crane in 807 that my brain keeps writing scenes 😂😂😂😂 so have this:

"Buck, you need to-"

He can't hear Bobby's words as he races up the ladder, panic rising faster and faster in his chest.

"Hey no no no no no!" He yells, throwing himself over the side. His hands grasp tight around Tommy's. "Stop stop stop! Please!" The words are coming out of him in sobs, but large hands grip around his wrists and a moment later, the older man tilts his head up and his eyes lock with Evan's.

"Ev-..." He cuts himself off, his voice wobbly and raspy from his current predicament.

"Just stop," Evan replies, snuffling as tears run down his face. "Stop moving, stop- just stop."

"Ok," Tommy replies, his voice weary as his fingers tighten around Evan's wrists that much more. The blonde glances up toward Chimney on the opposite crane. He's still working to get the harness unstuck, but apparently only having mild success with it.

"My legs are numb," Tommy states, blinking slowly. Chim looks up at them.

"Fuck this. I'm going to cut him down. The 217 can get the line fixed," Chimney states before heading back down the ladder in quick succession. "I need bolt cutters!"

"Evan," Tommy rasps. His hands are sweaty now, hanging onto the other man's arms.

"No," Evan replies, his voice tinged with anger now. "You have to hang on."

"You have to let go," Tommy counters to him, his voice exhausted. "Evan-" His grip slips on Evan's arm, and beneath them there's scrambling to get the inflatable placed properly. He glances over at the other crane as Chimney finishes reascending it.

"I can't," Evan replies, his own voice strained as he grips onto Tommy's arm with both hands now. "Fuck, Tommy, I can't."

"Why not," he asks wearily.

"Because!" Evan yells at him. Several tears fall off his face in quick succession, one landing on Tommy's own face as it continues its descent downward.

Somehow, even from beneath him, even with most of his blood volume hanging out in the lower half of his body with no way to make it circulate properly, Tommy manages to give him that look, the one that says he's really paying attention.

"Evan." He says it like it's Evan who needs to be talked off the ledge, like he's the one hanging in the middle of the air being held up by a crane.

"You don't get to give up now," Evan growls at him. "You already did that to me once this week."

"Are we really talking about this now," Tommy asks him. His fingers slip a few millimeters, but Evan curls his hand tight under Tommy's elbow, trying to pull him up.

"Seems as good a time as any," he replies. A humorless laugh slips out of him.

"I've almost got it," Chimney calls from the other crane.

Evan gulps. "It was too much, too fast," he states. "Asking you to move in. I s-said things that made it sound like I wasn't invested-.."

"It's fine," Tommy replies, sounding mildly exasperated.

"No its not," Evan argues, squeezing tighter on Tommy's arm. "it's not. Because it made me sound like I was asking you to move in because it's the easy option, like I wanted you to stay without any consideration of what your life looks like outside of what we are. Or were."

Tommy stares up at him, still blinking slow and long. Evan pulls his arm up inches higher, trying to take more of the weight off of his lower body.

"But it's not that," he says, sniffling again. "I lept before thinking, a-and made it into a thing that it wasn't and has never been." He sniffles again. "I didn't ask you to move in because I wanted to be impulsive. I said it because I want a life with you, a-and I was afraid to own that and what that means for me." He pauses and gulps, lets out a breath. "I was so pissed at you for breaking up with me, a-and you were doing the same thing I did. You were protecting yourself." Tommy stares up at him, eyebrows quirked slightly in confusion.

"I thought if I didn't say it, it was safer, that we-..." He shakes his head at himself as he feels the tension pulling Tommy back toward Chimney starting to wane as the bolt cutters work through the metal. "But I also want the whole damn thing with you. I'm not in it because it's easy, or because you were the first man to kiss me. I'm in it because I'm in love with you."

Tommy stares up at him still, giving him that damn look again, and the slack goes looser, his weight becoming even heavier on Evan's arms.

"I love you," he repeats. "I love you so damn much."

Tommy grants him a weary smile. "I love you too, Evan."

His weight falls entirely on Evan then, and both of their arms jerk out straight, Evan leaned roughly over the crane as he tries to keep holding on.

"Evan, let go," Tommy tells him.

"Please," Evan begs him, and he's not even entirely sure what it is he's begging for. "Tommy-.."

"I love you too," he repeats. "But you have to let go."

Evan gulps, forces a breath in, forces his tunnel vision to open up, and realizes the inflatable is ready and will catch Tommy. "I'll meet you at the bottom."

"Sounds good," Tommy rasps. And then, against everything that tells him he should, Evan lets go, watching as Tommy drops the 30 feet onto the inflatable crash pad. As soon as his body hits, Evan is already double-timing his way down the ladder. He makes it down in what he's sure is record time, running past everyone else to get to Tommy's side. Hen already has him on a stretcher, attached to a dozen leads and assessing his legs.

"Risk of compartment syndrome," she states. "Likely dislocation of the left hip. He needs x-rays and we need to go."

"I'm going with," Evan announces, refusing to hear reason to any other option. His hand is tight in Tommy's as soon as he's next to him, his other hand combing down the other man's hair as he stares down into those blue eyes. They're already brighter from his circulation picking back up. "I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Good lord just kiss the man already," Gerrard calls from the back of the crowd. Evan whips his head around and Tommy leans up off he gurney, both of them giving the old grump a shocked expression.

"What?" He asks. He has that grumpy look on his face once more, like he still thinks that their lifestyle is beneath him (at the very least). "We all know it's what you're thinking. I just said it."

Evan turns back toward Tommy, and the blue eyes meet.

"My boyfriend's sister once said there better ways to get someone's attention than this," Tommy says. Evan lets out a laugh, color flushing through his cheeks at the dignification of boyfriend. He curls two fingers under Tommy's chin and kisses him, both of them ignorant of the whooping and hollering happening around them.

"Like that," he whispers when they finally part, pressing his forehead into Tommy's. Tommy has a hand fisted around Evan's shirt, keeping him close.

"Yeah, that works," he whispers back. "I love you, too, Evan. I love you, too."

[luvyeni]

YOU TRY TO ESCAPE 𖹭 엔하이픈 ( reaction ) !

genre yandere 𖹭 warning mentions of murder and tying up , jake is crazy , sunghoon needs help and heeseung and jay are maniacs — parings enhypen hyungline x fem reader | back to library .

request. hii girlie could you do yandere enhypen when you try to escape it can be hyung line or ot7!

— enhypens reaction when you try and escape.

「 authors note 𖹭 」 i hope you like it.

﹙ 𐙚 : heeseung﹚ .ᐟ

normally heeseung ties you up before he goes to bed , but this night he was too tired and he crashed right on the bed , leaving you both awake and unbound — so you took your chances , slowly moving his hand from your waist , climbing off the bed; tip toeing towards the door. "stupid stupid girl." you heard your boyfriend say. "you think just because i didn't tie you up i didn't set precautions for this?" he slowly climbed out of bed. "open the door , try it." he smiled. "fucking open it." you opened the door, only for an alarm to go off. "close it." he said , you tearfully closed it. "now get back into bed." he said and you listened , climbing back into bed. "I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt." he pulled out the handcuffs.

"but you clearly can't be trusted."

﹙ 𐙚 : jay ﹚ .ᐟ

jay would let you leave , it's not like you can get far with the tracker he put those pretty little earrings you were to stupid and high on adrenaline to take off , he knows where you are— so when you come to a sudden stop at a bus station , he smirks before telling his guys to get the car ready. you sat waiting for the next bus out of town and away from jay , you were finally free. "oh princess." you felt someone sitting next to you , your body freezing in fear as you felt his hand on your knee. "h-how did you find me?" he smiled , but you could see the anger in his eyes. "those really expensive earrings that you're wearing, pretty baby those are trackers." you tried to get up , but squeezed your thighs. "i have two men at the ready in case you run , so you don't have a choice." he said as a car pulled up.

"you really don't have a choice , get in the fucking car."

﹙ 𐙚 : jake﹚ .ᐟ

the thing with jake is , he's crazy in love with a big emphasis on crazy; once he met you , his life had no meaning, he didn't live for himself , he lived for you — but jake also wasn't willing to let you leave , no he loved you too much , he'd kill you before he'd ever let you walk away from him , and if you weren't there then he'd had nothing to live for. "where are you going?" your heart dropped hearing your boyfriends voice , you turned around to where he stood , teary eyed , holding a knife in his hand. "you're leaving me aren't , you were gonna leave me." he was sobbing now. "jaeyun— no!" he shouted. "i won't let you go." he walked closer with the knife. "jake calm down." you said. "i can't let you go , but i can't live without you." he said. "let's calm down jake."

"i'll kill us both , let's die together huh? i can't let you go."

﹙ 𐙚 : sunghoon ﹚ .ᐟ

he knew you were bluffing; he knows you'll be right back where you started , you have no money , no friends , no family; he's all you have and you know it. "you want to leave?" he smiled , but it wasn't a humorous laugh. "go." he said pointing to the door. "the doors right there." he shrugged. "answer me this one question , where are you going?" he asked. "how are you gonna get there?" you stammered over your words. "that's right , you have no one , you cut them off because of me." he said. "dumb move." he said. "so walk out that door , do it." he said.

"and see who really loves you."

©️LUVYENI

[atsulovee]

✧ ─ · · KINKTOBER DAY ONE !! · · ─ ✧

I'm a screamer, baby!

Wooden horse - Dazai x Fem!Reader x Chuuya ➻❥ content warnings: Soukoku is torturing the reader, but it's nothing particularly graphic or painful. Non-con to dub-con. no penetration (sorry folks). uhh Dazai is a MASSIVE jerk so slut shaming and degradation. oral (m! receiving), ruined (f!) orgasm ➻❥ word count: 3.4k ➻❥ notes: HOOOO BOY kinktober day one!! let's hope i can keep this going!

"Your body moves instinctively, trying to get away from the man who coiled himself around you only to make yourself bite back a whimper as pain shoots through the bundle of nerves between your legs. “God- Fuck.” You hiss, sight blurred with unshed tears. The wood rubbed so painfully against your cunt, but you just knew that Dazai was right, for better or for worse. You were getting wet."

“You know, I really didn’t want to torture someone so cute. Ah, but life is unfair, isn’t it?” His boyish laugh cut through the air, interweaving with the thick tension of the basement. He stood over you, blocking what little light there was from hitting your eyes. The man in front of you didn't look very old, maybe around eighteen, but his eyes sunk deep like that of a soldier who watched hundreds of men die. “Oh well. You know what to do, Chuuya.”

You couldn’t move. You had woken up deep in the bowels of some building unfamiliar to you. It’s warm, wherever you are. Uncomfortably so. The air is thick and hard to breathe, as if you were trapped in a room with a thousand other people. Your head ached and a deep, lethargic pain drummed through your limbs. Even through pulsing and blurring vision, you saw a soft orange light off in the distance. Then, the stench of old blood followed. The smell is wretched and it’s deep, as if corpses have been permeating in this room for centuries.

It's only then, at the call of his name, that your attention gets drawn to the third person in the room. Notably shorter than the one closest to you, he leans against the wall with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Chuuya looks up as if only beginning to pay attention when spoken to.

“Chuuya!” Dazai- as he had introduced himself a few moments ago- chides with a laugh. A sharp and shrill noise more similar to the bark of a hyena or the sob of a child. “Don’t tell me you weren’t listening? Dogs are supposed to be loyal, you know!”

“Shut it, bastard!” Chuuya snaps as he yanks the lit cigarette from his lips, the smoke billowing out from the corners as it loops through the air. “For all your stupid talk about me being the dog, you sure do a lot of yapping yourself, Dazai!”

Chuuya pushes himself up from the wall, cigarette being dropped to the floor and snubbed out beneath his boot. Soon, Dazai isn't alone in towering over your bound form. In the momentary reprieve of their spat, your eyes fall downward to your binds. Only in your panties, the rope is free to gnaw into your exposed flesh as it holds your hands behind your back and your shins to the back of your thighs.

“Now, now…” Dazai coos, wagging his finger at Chuuya. “We have an interrogation to conduct, dear Chuuya! We can't leave a guest waiting, after all.” Faster than you can blink, their attention is back onto you. Nails dig into the fat of your cheeks as Dazai forces your head up so your eyes meet his. “You haven’t been very cooperative so far, so we’ll have to take more drastic means, okay?” His voice drawls, curling at the end into something sickeningly sweet. “Chuuya.”

This time, Chuuya moves without hesitation. Strong arms hoist you up, throwing you over his shoulder. It takes one nod from Dazai to send Chuuya walking in the correct direction. No longer blinded by the light seeping in from above, your eyes take a moment to adjust to the lingering darkness of the rest of the room. Blackness hid in the corners like ink spilled on parchment, thick and oppressive. Momentarily, all you could see were the vague shapes of whatever was in the room. As Chuuya stepped forward, you were able to see everything clearly. Nearby was a cart. Simple, sleek, and unassuming. But then you saw the glint of metal. On that cart were a large variety of knives and blades. From a small scalpel to a cleaver. Pliers, nail guns, and even drills. 

“No-!” You stumble over your words, voice gravelly and foreign to your ears as mindless pleads spill from your lips. Your head throbbed and ached like you had been beat over the head. The panic that had yet to come to you before started to ebb into your body. Slowly, it drew itself away like the ocean just prior to a tsunami before coming back tenfold, clawing and tearing its way through your body. “Don’t-!”

A quickened heart rate made the throbbing in your head worsen, pounding like the thrums of an earthquake. Limbs that trembled in the ropes that tried to hold them still. A cold sweat that made your pathetic form shine beneath the hazy light above as Chuuya effortlessly took you with him. Still, even through your adrenaline, your body remained too weak to do so much as squirm in his arms.

“Easy now.” Dazai’s once harsh expression fades into something similarly sinister, though it tries to mask itself. His toothy grin is just a little too sharp and just a little too wide. “Don’t make this any harder for yourself.” 

When Chuuya stopped walking, you couldn’t see what he had led you to at first. You weren’t sure you really wanted to. Though, as it always seemed to, your morbid curiosity won as you slowly lifted your head to look around Chuuya’s side. Dazai stood next to the device like a giddy child excited to present their arts and crafts project, as macabre as that image may be. Whatever it was, it didn’t look like it’d be a pleasant experience. A wooden contraption, meeting in the middle to form a point, through the tip had been rounded ever so slightly. 

“This beauty here is-!” Dazai starts, and though you can’t see Chuuya’s face, you are able to feel the irritation in his tense body. “A wooden horse! Made by the Spanish, likely to punish those who didn’t follow Christianity. They’d force the victim to sit on this bad boy, tie weights to their feet and have them just endure the pain of their genitals being crushed against the wood!” Dazai smiles, much similar to that of a gameshow host. At your increasingly petrified look, Dazai laughs once more. “Luckily for you, this one doesn’t have spikes! Chuuya, if you’d do the honor.”

Now that Dazai is done with his happy-go-lucky farce, Chuuya hauls you over his shoulder once more and settles you over the top of the wooden horse. Though not necessarily agonizing, the rub of the hardwood against your pelvis was deeply uncomfortable, especially as it had the entire weight of your body working against you with nothing but the thin material of your panties to protect your cunt. 

You shift awkwardly, wincing as your weight shifts away from your clit, instead letting the dulled tip rub awkwardly between your lips. “I-I don’t…” Sweat beads at your forehead. With your legs bound and your arms tied behind your back, every one of your limbs was useless to you. Each breath, each shudder kept shifting your weight, moving the pressure from your clit to your labia. 

It’s that slow type of pain, one that starts as a discomfort until it makes your heart race and you have to take in sharp gasps of air. Seconds pass, each one letting the discomfort bloom into something sharp and stabbing.

“Now, now…” Dazai slinks up to your side, his grin never falling from his face as his hands settle on your waist. “I’m sure a girl like you should be used to something hard rubbing up against you…” He snickers, degrading words falling from his lips like poison. “I mean, I’m just surprised you can still feel anything down there, with how many men I’m sure you’ve let bend you over…”

When Chuuya smacks him over the head, Dazai just whines, the hit not deterring him in the slightest as bandaged hands snake up your torso, leaving goosebumps in their wake. His hands are cold, letting your uncomfortably warm body jump at the sharp contrast as they cup your tits. “What? Come on, Chuuya…! She’s getting wet and she’s making cute noises! She likes it, don’t you, girl?”

A pitiful whine escapes your lips as his nimble fingers tug at your sensitive nipples. Your back arches, desperate to get away from him, but unable to escape his grasp. Dazai’s hot breath brushes against your ear as his eye trails from your chest to your face. Cold air brushed against your exposed skin, only to get wafted away with his warm breath. “That’s right… Good girl… Does it hurt? Good.” Dazai coos into your ear as frustrated tears well up in your eyes. 

Your body moves instinctively, trying to get away from the man who coiled himself around you only to make yourself bite back a whimper as pain shoots through the bundle of nerves between your legs. “God- Fuck.” You hiss, sight blurred with unshed tears. The wood rubbed so painfully against your cunt, but you just knew that Dazai was right, for better or for worse. You were getting wet.

“A masochist, huh?” Dazai purrs, sounding far too excited at the revelation. “Good… That makes things easier for us, then.” 

Chuuya stood off to the side, his eyes affixed to the ground as the scene played out before him. He wasn’t uncomfortable with torture, hasn’t been for some time at the very least. Chuuya had watched over Dazai’s interrogations dozens of times before- watched nails get ripped off, sinews torn, teeth pulled out. But, something about this specific situation felt…weird to him. Dazai’s a creep, Chuuya reasons in his head. He can’t really be surprised that Dazai’s taking the opportunity to assault a pretty girl. 

Still, Chuuya chose to watch until his eye caught Dazai’s once more. Often, the two of them didn’t need words to communicate, so Chuuya knew what Dazai wanted immediately.

When Chuuya’s hands rested on your waist, Dazai’s lecherous grin widened. He rested his chin on your shoulder as he tugged at your puffy nipples, watching Chuuya’s cheeks flush as he grinds your hips against the wooden horse harder.

This time, you couldn’t suppress your wail. It felt like your nerves were being electrocuted, a strong buzzing, burning feeling bullied its way up your spine, singeing every atom in its wake. 

“There we go, Chuuya. Usually, you’re more excited to take part in our interrogations.” Dazai sighs, making his partner grit his teeth.

“Shut it, fuckface. This isn’t shit.” Your clit feels like it’s getting rubbed raw, your pelvis hitting the wood painfully.

“Oh yeah? Chuuya isn’t getting all hot and bothered, watching a cute girl writhe and moan in pain?” His nails dig into your nipples, the overstimulating feelings making tears well up in your eyes. “ ‘Cause you know what I think? I think Chuuya is getting off on this just as much as this cutie is.”

Chuuya snarls like a rabid dog, though he doesn’t respond to the provocation further than sinking his nails into the fat of your hips- surely leaving crescent-shaped bruises for the next day. “Just- fuck.” The redhead hisses, meeting your eyes for the first time that night. “Just tell the fucker everything you know and this’ll all be over, okay?”

Your head swam, earlier with the drumming pain of being knocked unconscious and now with sharp agony as you gasp, desperate for any reprieve. “I-I don’t-!” Your breath comes to you in sharp strikes, lungs heaving as you try to inhale. Everything feels muddied as you try desperately to sort through your words. “I don’t know anything, really-!”

Dazai sighs, rough bandages scratching along your exposed flesh. “You want to extend this, huh?” He sighs. “Poor thing can’t think straight, even when she isn’t getting fucked. It’s a little pathetic, really. This is nothing, and you’re already blubbering like a child?” Your breath catches in your throat and your whole body is shaking pitifully, and his wide smirk borders on uncanny as his nails dig into your soft chest, threatening to draw blood. “Or maybe you’re crying because you like it? Is that it? Have you been fucked so much that even being tortured feels good to you?”

“No! God, fuck!” You hiss, whines and cries spilling from your lips uselessly as Chuuya continues working your hips against the wood. The worst, most humiliating part is that you can feel your core throb with each push and pull of your hips. Dazai is right, you hiccup. You’re being tortured by the Port Mafia for information you just don’t know and you like it.

Your pitiful noises are shut up by Dazai as he slides two of his fingers into your mouth, pressing down on the back of your tongue, making you gag around them. “There we go. Nice and quiet. Now, listen to me. Whether you know it or not, you’re privy to some sensitive information.” Still hovering over your shoulder, he nudges your cheek with his as he whispers into your ear. “You stumbled across one of our enemies' dealings last night and we just need to know exactly what you saw. It’s really not that hard, darling. Either you tell us what we want to know, or we hand you over to that ratty little street gang and who knows what they’d do to a pretty thing like you.”

Your tears threaten to fall as he takes his fingers out of your mouth, the spit connecting them to their lips with a thin string as the movement makes you gag. “Damn it!” You sob, the saliva slipping past your lips. “I don’t know! I didn’t see anything!” 

This time, Chuuya is the one to sigh- Dazai’s playful frustrations seemingly seeping over to the other man as well. Since the moment Dazai had ordered him, Chuuya’s hands had not stopped grinding your cunt against the wooden structure, making sure he aimed for the most sensitive area. “We don’t have all day, girl.” Chuuya hisses as you sputter.

“Now even Chuuya is getting fed up with you… He’s right, though. We could leave you here while we both go do more important things.” Dazai hums, keeping a watchful eye on Chuuya. “Leave your poor little clit swollen and needy, so desperate for relief for hours. All you have to do is remember just a few tiny details for us. It’s really not that hard, pretty girl.”

And then, the thought of being left alone with this stabbing pain that eats through your pelvis and vulva, is finally what makes the dam break. You wail, wrenching your head to the side as tears fall down your cheeks. Heart wrenching sobs echo through the Port Mafia’s basement not for the first time and certainly very far from the last. No matter how hard you try to formulate sentences, pleas and ‘I don’t know’s spill from you like a broken record.  Because you really don’t know. You didn’t go walking around at night, you didn’t walk across some shady drug dealing or arms exchange! From the moment you woke up here, you’ve had no clue what either of these men are talking about!

As you can’t see his face, Dazai doesn’t even bother faking his facial expression as he does with his tone of voice. He looks overjoyed with the tears that run down your cheeks, smudging whatever makeup you may have been wearing the night prior. His dark eyes gleam with something sadistic- something so downright vile that even Chuuya pauses his movements for a second. 

“Fine. Chuuya, you know what to do.” He lets go of you, slinking around Chuuya’s side and grabbing onto his shoulders to whisper in the redhead’s ear. “If she doesn’t remember, we’ll have to make her remember. I know you like watching her squirm just as much as I do.” He smirks, his eyes falling to the tent in Chuuya’s pants. “Maybe she’ll decide to talk after you make her take care of the little problem she caused.” Dazai snickers to himself, making Chuuya fluster and growl at him. 

“Fucking bastard…” Chuuya mumbles to himself, finally letting go of your hips and allowing the momentary reprieve before his nails dig into your scalp instead. Using his hand, he forces you to bend at an awkward angle with your body still being supported by the wooden horse but your head being nearly eye level with his crotch. The aching of your spine is enough to muffle the noise of his belt coming undone until it’s far too late. 

His dick is pretty, maybe about five and a half inches, but God, is it thick. The tip is red and already weeping precum, letting it pearl and drip down the bottom. You’re given only a few seconds to gawk before Chuuya hooks his gloved thumb into your mouth and pulls your jaw open.

His length is just enough to prod at the back of your tongue each time he pulls your head toward him. Chapped lips wrap around the tip easily, though they begin to strain ever so slightly as you hit the thickest part of the spit slicked cock. Chuuya doesn't care much as his fingers dig into your hair, pushing his hips flush against your face and into your hot throat. Your hands, bound behind your back, strain and clench instinctively but are unable to break from the rope. Chuuya’s strong hands bring your head back and forth, mercilessly letting you sputter and choke on his cock. All the while, he stares down at your tear streaked cheeks, muttering and cursing Dazai beneath his breath.

“Hah…” Dazai puffs out, his own cheeks heating up at the sight. “What a brute Chuuya is, treating a lady like that…” His teasing words only serve to aggravate Chuuya further, making him fuck your throat even rougher. That, of course, is exactly what Dazai wanted to see. Slowly, his hand comes to wrap around your throat, squeezing just so he could feel the way Chuuya’s length forced you to choke. 

“Shit-” Chuuya takes in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Don’t you dare let go, jackass. That feels perfect.” He groans as he feels his balls tighten up, releasing a gushing load of cum into your throat. As you choke, you can only let out a muffled groan as you go dizzy at the pressure and deprivation of air. You swallow Chuuya’s thick cum, desperately trying to not heave as the white ropes fight their way down your esophagus. “Good… Good fuckin’ girl. You’re perfect, take it. Just like that…”

As he pulls away, leaving you to cough up everything Chuuya spilled down your throat, you’re pitifully aware of the longing ache between your legs left untouched and unsatisfied. It felt like all the veins in your head were pounding with such force that they were about to burst. All the air in your lungs seemed to evade you, leaving you breathless despite the oxygen that surrounds you. 

Your back aches and your clit has been rubbed raw against your underwear. Though, even that torment doesn’t seem enough for Dazai because the moment Chuuya lets go of your hair, Dazai swoops in like a vulture. He pulls your head back just enough that you’re able to meet his eyes once more.

“There we go… Wasn’t so bad, was it, darling? Even if you didn’t get to finish. Though, I’m sure-” He dabs the sweat off of your forehead. “You’d like for this to all be over. So I’ll say this one final time. What. Do. You. Know?” His voice drops, the echo of the dingy basement adding a certain inhuman quality to it, making his voice sound like it was ringing out of hell itself. 

“I don’t—” you hiccup. “I du-dunno what to tell you—I dunno what you want—” Your tired, bleary eyes blink at him, any indignant spirit you may have had long since disappeared.  “I really don’t know what you’re talking about!” Your voice cracks, thick with unshed tears. 

“Hmm. Maybe we really do have the wrong person after all.” Dazai considers it after a moment, voice painfully playful and nonchalant. Dazai drops your head as he turns to look at Chuuya, whose face is still flushed as he tucks his soft dick back into his pants. “I mean, if that’s the case… Then this whole interrogation has been a total bust, huh?”

Chuuya sighs when Dazai gives him another look. Briefly, Chuuya looks at you oddly, eyes brimming with a type of compassion that seemed impossible for someone who had just helped assault you. Even then, as he avoids your eyes, he picks you up and drops you back to the floor.

You grunt, relieved of the pain between your legs, even though the back of your head smacks against the concrete as a result. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Dazai starts, hovering over you like he had done just thirty minutes ago. “This has been fun, really. But we don't need anymore from you if you really don’t have anything to tell us.”

Two clicks of metal, a bang, and everything goes dark.

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[theagstd]

One Night Stand ; 41

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter forty one ; wc | 9.5k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Your mother is an angel; she's not just a mother. She's everything to you, and you're more than just her world—you're her entire universe. If there's a word or phrase better than that to express how much you mean to her,

she would use it. She's raised you in her own special way, where love, kindness, and security thrived in her care. She has a unique way of being strict, yet her warmth and kindness always shine through.

She truly is the best person you could ever have in your life, the best mother anyone could ask for. Her endless gossip might get on your nerves, but you tolerate it because she once patiently listened to all your teenage dramas in high school—now it's your turn to return the favor. You wouldn't call it a favor; you'll say it's a duty now, which at the end of the day, you like.

You wouldn't say that to her, though—she'll be over the moon about it. But it's not about all that right now, because she's standing in front of you, her eyes wide like saucers and lips slightly parted, struggling to speak but unable to, and the sight leaves you breathless. Because your grip on Jungkook's

hands has tightened so much, he's beginning to wonder if his bones might break. You want to greet her, hug her, but as you lift your foot to step forward, your mother speaks, "What the hell?!" Her voice rings out, loud and full of shock. Both of you flinch at the sudden outburst, and you instinctively take a step back, startled by her reaction. The tears pour down her face, you watch her, and burst out in tears too.

"M-mom—" "What the hell is this—" she murmurs and covers your mouth with her trembling palms. "I-I can expla—" "There's no need for explanation! I see it all!" She speaks, her tone laced with embarrassment over her daughter. You can't bring yourself to meet her eyes, shame washing over you for letting her down.

Yet deep inside, you know you love your child unconditionally—nothing will ever make you feel ashamed of that. This feeling only exists because of your mother's judgment, not your own heart. Her eyes move from your bump to the man beside you, her lips parting even more as the minutes pass. You want to hide from her and everyone else, from the world.

Jungkook beside you isn't doing anything at all, and that's because he's afraid of what would happen if he speaks. The situation isn't calling for him, so he'd rather keep quiet than make things worse. Your lips tremble as you try to hold back your sobs and tears; your mother can't collect herself, so she zones out as she tries to think about it. Jungkook shifts uneasily,

aware of how long the two of you have been lingering at the doorway, but he can't bring himself to say anything. Relief and anxiety churn inside him as your father appears, walking toward you both. "Who's at the door, darling?" he murmurs, his voice steady as he steps closer and pushes the door open wider. You freeze in place, your hand slipping from Jungkook's grasp without thinking.

Your father's gaze locks on you, his expression unreadable as he scans you, then shifts to the boy beside you. He says nothing. The silence is suffocating, heavy enough to make your heart race. A pit forms in your stomach as regret seeps in—you wish you hadn't come back home. Your sobs get uncontrollable, and your cries get loud and heavier than they were.

You've never cried this hard; the last time you did was when you found out about your pregnancy—never again. "D-dad—" You're gasping for air, crying so hard it feels like you might break. Jungkook's starting to panic, his worry mixing with anger. Why the hell are your parents just standing there, letting this happen at the doorway, when you're a total mess—and pregnant?

His jaw tightens, grabbing your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he turns to face you. "Hey... hey," he whispers, trying to pull you back from whatever's breaking you. His voice is soft but shaky, desperate to calm you down, because this isn't just crying—it's something deeper, and it's killing him to see you like this, and he can't take it anymore.

Your parents watch the scene unfold, their frowns deepening as they notice the stranger holding their daughter. "Y/N, shhh," Jungkook whispers, his voice soft but strained. He's desperate to calm you down, his worry growing with every shaky breath you take.

You're such a mess, and he's terrified this much crying might make you sick. You cling to his hand tightly, trying to steady yourself as you gather the courage to speak. But before you can, your father cuts in.

"Come inside," he orders, his tone sharp. Jungkook stiffens, startled by the sudden authority in his voice, and you flinch. You glance at your father as he pulls the door open wider and steps inside. That tone—it's so unlike him. He's never spoken to you like that before, and it only makes the tears flow harder.

If Jungkook had a choice, he wouldn't step inside. It's not about his pride—it's about you. Sure, you're their daughter, and he gets that they're shocked and struggling to process everything. But making you stand at the doorway for over twenty minutes, crying your heart out while nosy neighbors peek from behind curtains? That's where his patience runs out.

The sight of you breaking down like this, with no one stepping in to help, fuels nothing but anger in him. You deserve better—pregnant, vulnerable, and hurting—and the fact that they can't see that makes his chest tighten with frustration. He gets it—it's not an easy situation. This isn't some casual introduction of your boyfriend. You're pregnant, unmarried,

and with a man they know nothing about. Of course, it's hard for them to take in—it's overwhelming, even. But still. At the very least, they could take you inside first. Let him stay out; he doesn't care about that. What matters is you—giving you a seat, letting you breathe. Watching you cry like this, standing in full view for the world to see, feels unbearably wrong, and it only adds to the weight in his chest. Jungkook holds your arms as he helps you walk inside slowly.

He focuses on your feet and sobbing, all he wants is to make you sit down on a couch. That will ease him. Your father sits on his maroon armchair, which looked worn out, like it's been used for the past 15 years. You sit on the larger couch as Jungkook rubs his hand on your hair, looking at your face with a frown.

"Stay here, I'll take our luggage inside, mm?" he whispers to you, not wanting your parents to hear his voice. You tug at your nose and nod at his words, unsure of what else to do. He casts a brief glance at your mother, who glares at him as though he's unwelcome in her home. Without a word, he carries the luggage inside, setting it against the wall.

Yours, he moves closer to the stairs, a quiet act of care. His own, he leaves untouched, off to the side. It's clear he has no intention of staying the night—or perhaps he knows better, judging by the sharp chill of your parents' silent judgment. He walks back to stand beside you, not wanting to take a seat because it's obvious that no one wants him here.

Your mother sits in front of you. She doesn't speak a word as she tries to collect her thoughts first. Your father, on the other hand, does not seem very angry as your mother does; he looks disappointed. "Can you explain this to me?" your father speaks up as he communicates with his eyes, moving from your bump to the man beside you. You gulp, nodding.

You wipe off the tears that run down your cheek and pull your nose. "I w-will!" You sit up straighter, trying to claw back the confidence you'd built over the past few weeks—the same confidence that crumbled the second your mom opened the door. Jungkook looks like he wants to reach out, maybe grab your arm to let you know he's there, but he doesn't.

Not with the way your parents are glaring at him like he's the worst decision you've ever made. You take a moment, your eyes darting around as you try to gather your thoughts, piecing together words that refuse to come out as sentences. "I..." you start, your voice faltering, stammering under the weight of the truth. How do you explain something so unreal?

That the man standing beside you was once a stranger, someone you hooked up with, only to discover later he was your boss. That the pregnancy you never planned became a mistake you embraced wholeheartedly. And now, here you are—hopelessly in love with both him and the life you're creating together.

It would sound completely like you've taken it out from a film, but it's the raw truth, and you just can't seem to find a way to explain it to them. Jungkook sees the struggle; your parents see it too, and it only makes them fear for what they must hear next.

"So I..." This time, Jungkook doesn't wait; he places his palm on your shoulder so he can speak this out. He doesn't want to put the whole burden on you when he was an equal part of this.

"Please don't take it out on her. This... this whole thing was a mess, and if anyone's at fault, it's me. More than her," he says quietly, his voice steady despite the weight of your parents' piercing gazes. You stay silent, your words stuck in your throat.

The way he steps in, taking the blame for something that wasn't entirely his fault, twists something deep inside you. He's shouldering everything, trying to protect you, and it makes your heart ache in ways you can't put into words.

"No... don't do this, Jungkook," you murmur, and he looks down at you with a frown. You wipe your tears away, not wanting to cry anymore. You're determined to lay everything out for them, no matter how messy or awkward it gets. They deserve to know the full story—every detail, no sugarcoating, no covering things up.

You can't stand the idea of them hating Jungkook, and more than anything, you want them to accept the baby you created together. This little life means everything to you, and you need them to see that too.

"You don't have to take the blame on yourself," you say and pull his hand to sit beside you. You want him next to you and seated. He doesn't have to stand behind you like he doesn't belong here; he's yours and belongs wherever you are. He sits, with a fair distance between you two.

"This was all unplanned, and I promise you that it all began as a mistake," you start. You're aware of your parents' decency and how they don't interrupt. You're thankful that they are respectable and allow others to keep their opinions before they speak. They listen, and you know that they will hear you out no matter how messy and awkward this situation and story is. You look at Jungkook, who gazes at your bump with his eyebrows crossed together.

"We weren't together until a few months ago, and I know that everything is very upsetting and difficult to take in, but we both are taking our responsibility and... and we are trying to do as much as we can. I just want you and Dad to support me in this." You blurt it all out in one breath, squeezing your eyes shut as if bracing for the storm of their reactions. Jungkook shifts uncomfortably beside you, awkward under the spotlight that feels far too bright, his every instinct screaming at him to escape.

Your father lets out a heavy sigh, his gaze drifting away as he tries to process everything you've just dropped on him. Meanwhile, your mother sits stiffly, her anger still palpable, though she holds back from yelling. Her eyes, unblinking, fall to your bump, and something softens—though only slightly. She's clearly torn, her thoughts racing as she takes in the sight of you,

undeniably pregnant, and wonders how everything came to this. You look more beautiful than you ever have, but how can she admire you when you've so clearly hidden everything from her? She can't believe how her own daughter could have kept something so important, so life-changing, hidden for so long.

The realization hits her like a cold wave, and for a moment, she's at a loss for words. The hurt is there, buried beneath her frustration, but it's not just anger—it's disbelief. How could you have kept this from her? From both of them?

Your mother finally breaks the silence, her voice quieter than you expected, yet still sharp with emotion. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?" she asks, her eyes narrowing in both confusion and hurt. "This... this is a huge deal, and you've kept us in the dark all this time?" Jungkook, still awkward and tense beside you, looks like he wants to say something,

but he holds back. It's clear he doesn't know what to do, how to help, or how to ease the tension that's growing thicker with every passing second. You feel the weight of your mother's gaze, the expectation for answers. You want to explain, to tell her why you waited, but the words are stuck, caught between the truth and the fear of losing her approval.

"Why, Y/N?" Her voice trails as she asks you again. You hurt her so deeply that you can hear it. You want to cry all over again, but now's the time to talk and clear everything up.

"I... I was scared," you mumble under your breath, and you hear your father chuckle sarcastically, which makes Jungkook turn his head to him in confusion.

"Scared?" he repeats what you said. "I thought we raised you to tell us every. single. thing about your life. The silly, the happy, the worrying, the anger—and even the crazy things you've faced," your father says, his voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and hurt. His words slice through the tension in the room, a reminder of the trust and openness he believed you'd always share with both your parents.

Your mother's eyes are searching yours, waiting for some kind of explanation, some reassurance that this was just a mistake, a misstep on your part. But you know there's no easy way to make things right. You look down at your bump, feeling ashamed of hiding this big deal from your own parents.

Jungkook is taking notes on how each of your parents speaks. Your father speaks warmly, even if his words are limited and cold for the moment. He senses that he's still being delicate with it for you. He's also observed how your father is a quiet man who takes his time to give a reaction, in comparison to your mother, who has outbursts from time to time.

"We did not expect this from you, Y/N," your mother says as she looks at you with red eyes and trembling lips. It stings you in each layer of your skin and heart because you're well aware of this. You did not expect this from yourself either, and although you grew out of it with time, it resurfaces now that your mother says it.

"Enough, honey," your old man stops her from saying anything more, and Jungkook relaxes his tightened jaw when he hears it. He's glad that your dad spoke up because now's not the time to throw any more taunts. What's done has already been done, and putting you down is not going to magically make it all disappear.

"But—"

"They're tired. Let them rest. We can talk about this tomorrow," he says and stands up from his armchair. Jungkook does not know what to do, so he sits still.

"Have you both had dinner?" he asks, and you nod. You're not very hungry since you had your meal on the flight along with snacks that Jungkook got for you. The man beside you nods too, so your father hums.

"You can go to your bedroom, Y/N." You get on your feet with the help of Jungkook. You don't want to leave the room without completely solving everything, but you also can't take it anymore. You're in desperate need of rest, and you're not ready for a lengthy conversation yet.

Jungkook somehow feels something isn't right when he leads you to the stairs as you guide him up to your old bedroom. And he guessed it when your father says, "You can't stay with her," he announces, and you both stop in your tracks and look at him. You're frowning, and the guy next to you is biting his lower lip like he saw this coming.

"He can use the guest room, downstairs," your dad says, and Jungkook just nods. You don't say anything else. Honestly, with all the drama, you're just glad he gets to stay at your place, especially since your parents were so against him.

You lead him to your bedroom, and he helps you sit on your bed, removing the layers of coats that you put on. No words leave your lips, nor does Jungkook's, but surely the awkwardness floats in the air, and all you want to do right now is go back home and sleep in his arms. This doesn't feel like home, mostly because of the negativity that lies around. You hope it all clears when the day arrives. You pray for it, but right now, you both must accept this.

"Can you help me use the washroom?" you ask, and he stills at your question. He feels very aware of everything, like your parents are watching the two of you through the walls. You seem to figure it out and shake your head. "They might see us—"

"They won't... please..." you whisper, and he agrees. It's not that he does not want to help you, lord no. He'll do anything for you, but he's also developed a fear toward your parents with whatever happened a while ago. He helps to remove your socks and shoes, then leads you out of the room because your old bedroom does not have an attached washroom. He walks you and sees your father standing by the corridor, giving him a side-eye, which makes Jungkook gulp.

"I'll stay right here. Let me know when you're done," he says to you as he shuts the door and leans against it, not sparing a glance at the surrounding because he can see the old man by the corner of his eye.

You feel such relief after finally emptying your bladder. The tension from holding it in for so long is gone, leaving you feeling completely free.

"I'm done!" you yell as he nods and gives a tight smile when he meets your father's eyes. Jungkook walks you to your room and puts away all your coats. You both are quiet as he brings up your suitcase and places it on the couch so it's easier for you to reach your clothes. You notice how he looks irritated, his eyebrows creased, and his jaw tightened as he picks a pair of PJs for you to dress for the night.

You look at him curiously, wanting him to speak. You tilt your head and raise your eyebrows to signal him. He glances at you, then goes back to the clothes.

"Say something..." you whisper, and he sighs. You don't like his silence, and even though the matter is not solved yet, both your parents are mad at you, you don't want him to be angry at you either.

"Jungkook... are you mad at me?" you mumble under your breath, and he breathes deeply as he drops his hand and looks down. He doesn't want to tell you that he's angry and scared.

"I'm not, darling."

"Then why a—"

"I want to see you downstairs, not in her bedroom," your mother says as she stands by your door with her arms crossed. Jungkook clenches his jaw as he places your clothes on the bed and stomps out of your room without sparing a glance. You feel a twinge in your heart; you didn't want him to leave just like that. He didn't even say good night. You look up at your mother, then sigh.

"Mom—"

"I don't want to hear anything from you," she says as she steps inside, coming to a stop in front of you. Her arms remain firmly crossed over her chest as she fixes you with a stern gaze. You avoid her eyes, your attention wandering around the room instead.

She studies your face intently, taking in the soft fullness of your cheeks and the radiant glow that seems new and unfamiliar. You look so beautiful—pregnancy suits you in a way she never expected. You notice her staring at you, which makes you feel uncomfortable, but you don't address it.

"We will talk tomorrow. Get some rest now," she speaks, and you hum as she leaves the room after placing a bottle of water on your desk.

You sigh when the door closes. You look around your room and notice how everything is just as it was when you left. Nothing has changed, except for you. You feel lonely here, unlike before. You used to enjoy your own company, but now things have changed. You enjoy his company, and you can't wait to go back home and spend the rest of your nights with him.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is offered the guest room. He hesitates to suggest staying at a hotel—not because he wouldn't, but because he refuses to leave you. From everything you've told him, he expected your parents to be loving and accepting,

even though the situation is life-changing. That was the only reason the idea of a hotel even crossed his mind. But now? No way. There's no chance he's leaving you alone, not when your parents are this furious.

Your father stands by the door as Jungkook looks around the room and blinks. It's very different from his; the room is warm, homely, and has a touch of family in it, unlike his luxurious, cold rooms. "All good?" your dad asks, and Jungkook turns to speak. "Yes, thank you." He places his suitcase on the single chair and waits for your father to leave, but he doesn't. Instead, he walks toward Jungkook, leaving him nervous.

"I don't know who you are, but... you don't seem to be someone who would hurt my daughter," your father begins. "Until everything is clear, I don't want to see you around her. It doesn't matter what's going on between you two." Jungkook feels like his jaw might shatter from how tightly he's clenching it, but he forces himself to nod in response. He remains rooted to the spot, his fists trembling at his sides, until your father finally walks out.

The moment the door closes, he lets out a muffled curse under his breath. "Fucking hell!" His frustration boils over, and he stomps his foot in anger. Everything is a mess, and knowing how uncertain it all is from this night makes Jungkook fear for the future.

Jungkook ; Did you take your meds?

You grab your phone when you see the screen light up. Turning carefully to the side, you read his texts and respond.

You ; Yes, I did.

Jungkook ; Good. Are you okay?

You pout at his words, mostly at how cold they sound through the screen. You know he's not in his best mood, and neither are you, but it's not making you feel better, especially when you need him the most at this moment.

You ; Are you mad at me?

Jungkook turns to his left side and sighs when he reads your texts. He doesn't want to sound angry, but can he control himself? Definitely not.

Jungkook : I'm not, baby. I just don't feel okay.

You ; Can you call me? I want to hear you.

Jungkook ; No, not today. I don't want us to fall into trouble right now.

You agree. Now is not the time to call when everything is still heated, so neither of you reaches out, even though you both badly want to. The night is cold, much colder in the empty room you share. This was your bedroom, a place you spent your childhood and teenage years, but none of those memories matter to you now. You've had both happy and sad times here, but you don't dwell on them.

Instead, you focus on the future because that's what matters most—a future where you share every living moment with the man you love and the child you carry. Your parents beside you, supporting your decisions and being part of your life-changing experiences. That's what you think and wish for.

So you turn onto your side, trying to fall asleep, though it doesn't come easy. After hours of counting sheep, you manage to drift off, but it takes every ounce of effort. Meanwhile, Jungkook stays awake, staring at the ceiling, wondering about the "what ifs" and how he's going to face your parents in the morning.

He mentally prepares himself for whatever is left to come and thinks about how he'll protect you from all their questions.

Your parents aren't sleeping soundly either. In the quiet of the room they share, they collect their thoughts together. Last night, they couldn't sleep in excitement at the thought of seeing their only daughter again, but tonight, they lie awake in disappointment and shock that their daughter knocked on their door with a stranger and a pregnant belly.

;

Morning rolls around, and you wake up to the smell of fried eggs and bacon and—a couple of very uncomfortable movements and kicks. "Bun... where are you?" you whine as you try to sit upright and get out of bed. One palm stays on your belly, and the other takes support of the bed. Sometimes, just trying to sit up feels like a whole mission.

After lying down for hours, dragging yourself out of bed can feel like such a chore—especially when the baby's in some weird position, and you can't even tell if it's a hand or a foot giving you that little kick. You try to understand what's what, and by the time you do, there's a movement again.

You're tired at this point, can't wait for the baby to pop out because this does not feel like months—it feels like years since you carried this child. "You're being a pain today, I swear," you mumble as you stand up and take your clothes for the day. You walk out of your room to get to the washroom and meet your father along the way.

"Morning," he says, and you give him a tight smile.

"Morning, Dad."

He helps you with the door, and somehow you feel like the mood may have shifted since last night. He doesn't seem too mad, and he's also giving you a soft smile. Your father has always been a kind-hearted man. He doesn't lose his temper easily and has the patience to handle things calmly. He cools down quickly, which helps him empathize more easily—unlike your mother, who takes a bit longer to let things go.

You love that about him; it's why you like to share most things with him. You used to when you were back in high school and college. Things shifted when you got messy and became a woman. You got closer to your mom, but that doesn't change that you've always been a daddy's girl. Maybe you don't tell him everything now like you used to, but inside your heart and mind,

you're closest to him. That's why he feels hurt more deeply than your mother, even though he rarely shows it. While your mother expresses her feelings through words and actions, he lets his pain show in his silence. If you could look at him more closely, you'd see it all in his eyes—whether it's happiness, sadness, or anger.

It's also one of the reasons why you love Jungkook. His eyes hold galaxies just the way your dad's do.

You shower and walk downstairs carefully, holding the railing while you take each step. You come to face your mother and Jungkook already at the dining table. He has a blank expression on his face as he looks at the food on the table.

"Morning..." you murmur, and he turns his head to look at you. A shine radiates from his features, like you turned on a bulb in him. Your mother glances at you and mutters the same as she seats herself on her chair. You can still see that she's not very happy yet. Jungkook helps you sit and pulls the chair for you.

"I cooked your peameal bacon and pancakes," she mentions as she puts some on your plate, freshly cooked and warm.

You smile and nod. "Thanks..." you mumble. You four share breakfast in silence; only the clinking and scraping of your forks and knives fill the place. You had about four pancakes, two eggs, and a very long drizzle of maple syrup. Your parents glance at each other when you eat so much, making Jungkook feel uncomfortable because they gaze at him too.

He was used to seeing you gobble your food down, but they weren't. You barely ate before, trying to look good and in shape, but now... they feel happy too, seeing you eating so carefree.

"Where are the dogs?" you ask, curiously looking around. Your dogs would usually lie around here somewhere. "They are at Aunt Susan's place. She wanted some company since... Uncle Dan passed away." Your eyes bulge at your mother's words. "What?!" She gulps and nods like it's been ages since that happened. "He passed away a while ago now."

You couldn't believe it because Uncle Dan was someone who played a major role during your childhood. And although he wasn't really there for you after you turned eleven, he was someone special, so it hit you that he passed away not so long ago.

"Well, it doesn't really matter. What matters now is you two," she mutters as she gets up from her chair, screeching it and collecting the empty plates while you nervously look over at Jungkook as he freezes with his fork hanging in the air, waiting to be inside his open mouth.

"Mom... can you hear me out, please—"

"What? You're gonna tell me about this boy you've come with? Who is he even? How old is he? Twenty? And what's on his arm?! He looks unholy—"

"Mom, stop!" you raise your voice at her to stop her from talking rubbish about the man who sits beside you.

Your mother now does her chores with a lot of sound, proving to you that she's angry. You deeply exhale as you try to calm yourself down and not explode at her.

"He's not twenty; he's not a boy. He's a man, he's got his job, and he has a name for himself. If you don't know who he is, you should look it up."

You continue to speak, even though Jungkook gives you the look. He doesn't want them to know that he's a renowned businessman and all that. He doesn't like the boasting about himself. Even though that's not your intention, it puts him in the spotlight, which makes him uncomfortable.

"And about his ta—" Jungkook places his palm on yours to stop you from dragging this, but you don't buy it. "His tattoos don't change anything about him. I like them, and that sums everything."

You mumble and eat up the last piece of pancake before getting up from the chair and washing your own dishes. Your father looks down at his food and doesn't know if he should be happy about how you stand for the man in front of him or angry at how you spoke to your mother. 

"You need to stop talking to me like that, young lady!"

"Mom, what?" You chuckle and lean against the cabinet. "You don't want to hear me explain anything, but you also come up with assumptions? At least hear me out. I know you're mad and disappointed in me, but trust me, this was all unplanned. I... don't want to call it a mistake because I don't think it is one now. But... I promise you that none of this was in my plan or hands." You gently run your hand over your bump, smiling at how big it's gotten and how close your due date is.

Your mom slows her dishwashing, quietly listening to you talk. She's not mad at you about any of this—just hurt that you kept her in the dark all these months. You walk away from the kitchen to the backyard, feeling suffocated in the tension. Jungkook reaches for his plate, ready to wash it, but your mother gently takes it from his hands. He hesitates before speaking, his voice steady but full of sincerity.

"She's seven months pregnant, and... I know I'm still a stranger to you. I know you don't think I'm the right person for her, but I haven't left her side since the pregnancy. Even when we couldn't stand each other for months, I stayed. Things are different now. I really, really care about her. What she needs most is your support—that's what will help her feel better," he says as he backs away from the cabinet and walks to your dad. "Can I be with he—"

"No. I'll go."

Jungkook lets out a frustrated sigh as the conversation ends. Meanwhile, your father peeks outside and notices you sitting quietly on the step in the backyard. He walks over and settles beside you, his eyes fixed on the birds chirping on the electric fence. Neither of you speaks, and neither looks at the other.

You sit there together in heavy silence, your chest tight as you fight back tears. You never thought it would hurt this much, but everything feels overwhelming now. All you want is to go back home, curl up in the bed you share with Jungkook, and hold Bam close until the pain eases.

"Seven months, huh..." your dad murmurs. He smiles and looks up at the beautiful blue sky. "Boy? Or girl?"

"We didn't check the gender yet."

He nods, his smile only getting wider. "You know, when your mother was pregnant with you after three tries, we thought you'd be a boy. I was so sure of it! I got you blue clothes and basketball toys and spent bucks on all that, only for you to be born a girl." He chuckles as he recalls the old times.

"Were you disappointed?"

"Oh God, no. Never." He says with a gasp as his hand reaches to caress your face. "You're no less than a boy, if you ask me."

He chuckles, prompting you to roll your eyes, though a smile sneaks onto your face. Your father gazes at you with pure affection. He loves you deeply, enough to give you the entire world if he could. So, you made a mistake—what of it? At least you had the courage to own up to it, embrace it, and cherish it. He tells you that in his own words, and you feel much heavier than before. Because your father is so kindly accepting you, it fills your heart with love for him, even if the disappointment and agony inside you grow too.

"Look at you. He takes good care of you, I can see."

You blush at this and nod your head. Your father pulls you closer to him and caresses your arm.

"He does..." you whisper. Jungkook is everything you could have hoped for in this phase of your life. Even though he was part of this unexpected situation, he stayed—and that alone speaks volumes. Through all the ups and downs you've faced together, he never once walked away.

"He's the CEO of Jeon Industries, right?" You nod with furrowed eyebrows.

'So Dad googled him...' you think.

"How did all this... happen?" he asks, curiously.

And you explained it to him, leaving out all the explicit details. Your father didn't judge you or give you any looks. In fact, he listened with open ears and arms. Your smile faded while you explained the very beginning of the horrific news, but as you came closer to the incidents that took place recently,

your father noticed how your smile grew and how excited you were. Like you're living in the moment when you talk about Bam and how you both fought and how he made up for it. Your father noticed little details, like how you say Jungkook's name and your eyes sparkle. All that sums up to one question that he had in his mind.

"So, you love him?"

You paused at this. Your eyes blink a couple of times as you look around, trying to find a way to answer this sudden question. This makes him burst into laughter, resulting in your frown. "What, Papa??" you ask, your frown deepening.

"You love him, Y/N... oh, you love him," he says and gets on his feet, walking into the house, leaving you confused.

;

You've never felt so lonely in your home before. Your mom would entertain you, or you would be busy with a presentation to submit in a few days. Now you look at random objects and think of random thoughts with nothing to do. Your father didn't share everything you told him with your mother. He wanted you to tell her yourself. But he did ask her to be gentle with you and not lash out, even if she's more sad than angry right now.

Jungkook wants to be with you, sit next to you, but he can't. He doesn't want to disrespect your parents, so he settles inside his room, texting you or checking on his emails. He hates it here, but he won't tell you. You ask your mother if you could help her cook lunch, and she said she didn't want your help, which made you upset. You've got nothing to do, and it eats you up that you're just zoning out when you could be doing something useful.

"Mom, please, let me help with something," you plead, leaving her no choice but to hand you the chopping board.

You give her the side eye while you chop the vegetables for meat pie. You don't make an attempt to talk to her, but neither of you can handle the silence anymore, so she asks you, "How many months are you?"

"Seven..." She nods while she stirs the broth.

"Do you plan to deliver here or in Korea?"

The question stings a little, a reminder of how your parents haven't been as involved in your pregnancy as they would have liked. You don't want to answer and risk making her feel even sadder. Your silence speaks volumes, though, and she senses your hesitation.

"It's okay," she says softly, her voice understanding. "Just say you want to deliver in Korea."

She walks over to you and places her hand on your shoulder. "You don't have to think too much." She smiles, making you feel lighter instantly. "I'll take these." She takes the cutting board and gets back to work. You see Jungkook peeking at you from his room. He gives you a thumbs up, and you give him a flying kiss.

;

The day slips by quietly. You stroll through the neighborhood with your father and Jungkook, though he couldn't walk beside you like he wanted to—he had to follow behind, which annoyed him, but he went along with it anyway. Jungkook had not been feeling very well; he can't stand how he has to stand meters away from you when you're just around.

He wants to hug you, kiss you, and tell you how he feels, but he can't. You know that too. You see his frustration, and you feel the same. All you want to do is sleep in his arms, and you can't wait to go back home.

To your home.

You didn't talk much to your mother, but your dad did. He shared a few things with her, and it seemed to help her understand everything. Tomorrow, you'd be leaving, and she was trying to come to terms with it all, hoping to send you off on a positive note. She'd been watching you and your bump whenever you were busy reading a book, and she couldn't help but feel so soft at the sight of you and her grandchild.

She wanted to ask you about everything, buy baby clothes, pack up, and be ready to fly to Korea when you deliver. She wanted to do so much, and for that, she must talk to you. 

;

Lunch was quiet, and so was dinner. But when your mother approached the dining table with a bowl of warm apple cinnamon rolls, you swear you almost teared up on the spot. 

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," she says with tears in her eyes, and you shake your head, pulling the chair so she can sit in front of you. Your father signals Jungkook that they shouldn't be here, so the men get up from their seats and walk to the backyard together. 

"Mom, don't be sorry! I totally get why you reacted like that—anyone would've!" 

"But I should've checked on you first," she says, tears still falling. It hurts to see her cry.  "Hey, Mom..." you wipe away her tears and give her hand a gentle squeeze. "Let me tell you about the crazy journey I've been on!"  She nods quickly, letting out a little laugh, and you watch her, curious about what she'll say.

You shared with her how you and Jungkook were complete opposites and how everything between you was such a chaotic mess. You really thought it would never work out. But somehow, it did. As you recounted all the wild moments, your mom couldn't help but laugh along with you, even though she still had her doubts about Jungkook. 

He wasn't the man she had envisioned for you—she'd dreamed of someone entirely different. Jungkook, being the exact opposite, made it hard for her to warm up to him. She didn't understand what you saw in him. Even by looks, he didn't seem all that good in her opinion, and with those tats that she hated, it made it more difficult to like him. 

While you and your mother had a chat about the past few months, Jungkook and your dad had strolled out into the backyard. Jungkook felt awkward, like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin in the oppressive silence, especially with your dad shooting him subtle glances every few minutes. He wanted to have a conversation but knew Jungkook was nervous and uncomfortable. He wanted to break the ice, to talk to the boy and know him better, to know you better. 

Finally, your dad broke the tension. 

"So, Jungkook... tell me about yourself. Your family? What you do?"  Clearing his throat, Jungkook straightened up, trying his hardest to sound professional—he was too nervous to speak naturally. 

"I'm the CEO of Jeon Industries... I, uh... don't really have a family." 

His voice trailed off as he avoided eye contact, glancing around the yard as if it might offer an escape. He tried not to sound affected, but deep down, the lack of a family stung more in moments like this. Being with your tight-knit family made him feel out of place—ashamed, even—though he'd never admit it. He didn't know how to speak to your dad. The pressure of speaking *to* a father—something he'd never done before—scared him. 

"I like to think Y/N as my only family..." he mumbled under his breath, not wanting your dad to hear him, but he did, and he smiled. He liked that, a lot. 

"You don't have to be nervous, son." 

Jungkook froze mid-step when he heard the word *son*. It hit him like a wave, a word he'd never had the chance to claim as his own. The sound of it lingered in the air, sinking deep into his chest and settling in a place he didn't know was empty. For a fleeting moment, he wished he could hear it again, over and over, like a melody meant just for him. 

Your dad might've understood more than he let on because his eyes smiled warmly at Jungkook, even if his lips didn't fully follow. It was the kind of look that said he knew—he knew Jungkook hadn't heard words like that before and silently wished he could offer them more. 

"Can I call you son?" he asked softly. 

Jungkook stopped in his tracks, his round doe eyes speaking louder than any words ever could. 

"Can I—" 

"Y-yes, yes... please," Jungkook whispered, his voice trembling as a genuine smile spread across his face. He didn't realize how much he needed it until he heard it. 

Your dad opened his arms, his voice gentle but firm. "Come here." 

Jungkook stepped forward, his hesitance fading as he accepted the embrace. It wasn't just a hug—it was a moment that stitched together a part of his heart he didn't know was broken. Jungkook hadn't felt a male presence in his life for as long as he could remember—no father, no father figure to guide or comfort him. 

But this hug, this simple embrace, seemed to mend something deep within him. It was as if all the tangled emotions he'd buried over the years unraveled in an instant, leaving behind a quiet, unexpected sense of peace. It completed him in ways he didn't know he needed, filling a void he'd long ignored. And in that moment, all he wanted was to know what it meant to truly have a father—and to be one himself. 

You four sit together for dinner, and things have never been better. None of you are sulking, and there's no feeling of anger. All that's left is peace and happiness. 

Your dad strikes up a conversation with Jungkook about business, their tones shifting between casual and analytical, while your mom focuses entirely on you, piling more food onto your plate every chance she gets. She barely spares a glance at Jungkook, her disapproval lingering quietly, even as her husband seems to admire the man sitting beside you.

Despite your dad's growing fondness for Jungkook, your mom remains unconvinced, her gestures more protective than welcoming, as though silently questioning if this man is truly the right one for her child. 

You feel Jungkook holding your thigh and bump every chance he gets under the table. Since he's barely made any contact with you, he craves it so much more, and he can't wait to get back home and make love to you, skin on skin, with no one to stop or fear. 

After dinner, your mom gently suggested you head to bed early and even asked if she could join you. Her question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, unsure how to respond. 

Your dad, always observant, noticed the fleeting glance you exchanged with Jungkook—and how Jungkook immediately choked on his water, scrambling to cover it up by suddenly fixating on the slightly crooked frames hanging on the wall. 

Clearing his throat, your dad chuckled softly, pretending not to notice Jungkook's awkwardness. "Guess I'll fix those tomorrow," he said, his tone light, though his knowing glance at your mom betrayed his thoughts. 

"I can help you with that, Mr. Lee..." Jungkook began, but your dad quickly cut him off.  "Oh, shut it. Don't call me that," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "Call me Dad."  Your mother whipped her head around at the words, her expression a mix of confusion and surprise, as if she was silently asking, *What on earth is going on?* 

You couldn't help but glance between Jungkook and your dad, wondering when exactly their bond had formed.  Jungkook, though clearly anxious, couldn't help the small warmth that spread through him at the thought of calling him 'dad.' Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly. "Of course! Come on," your dad said, his voice full of reassurance. 

Jungkook bit his lower lip, trying to suppress the smile that was threatening to spread across his face. You couldn't stop yourself from giggling at the sight of their unexpected camaraderie, even though your mom's quiet frustration was evident in the way she folded her arms, unsure what to make of it all.

;

"mmmm you look like you're having a boy..." your mother says with a smile beaming through her face as she hands you the pills and a glass of water, examining your belly while you lay on the bed. "Really? I wouldn't mind either way," you say and gulp down the vitamins. "Oh, I'm so excited for you! We can go out tomorrow if you wish... since you'll be leaving at night."

You nodded and handed back the glass, wiping off your lips. "Good night, Y/N. Call me if you need anything..." "Good night, Mom." She walked out of the room and closed the door behind her. You immediately grabbed your phone and texted him.

You ; Pstttttt wake uppppppp

Jungkook ; I never slept, darling

You ; Come out in... 10 mins

Jungkook; Why???

You ; I want to see you

Jungkook ; You saw me the whole dayyyy

You ; I want to touch you

Jungkook ; Don't talk unholy, Y/N!

You giggled at the reference to your mom that Jungkook typed.

You ; plssssssss

Jungkook ; If we get caught, Y/N, it would be bad

You ; They're probably asleep, we won't get caught, trust meeeeeeeeee

Jungkook ; Your parents strictly told me to stay away from you

You ; Either you meet me down, or I'm coming into your room, and we fuck

Jungkook ; What the fuckk!

You ; You heard me, and I'm hungry anyway.

Jungkook ; Stubborn.

You waited patiently, tapping your phone and looking around the room, finding the old posters of The Beatles so fascinating, like you're seeing them for the first time ever. You even put a timer on your phone because you're not waiting any longer than 10 minutes; it already feels like an hour. As soon as the timer says 1 second left, you get on your feet.

"Baby, you need to stop kicking me right now. I'm not in the mood for this pain. But I'm so in the mood for your father!!!!" You giggle and open your room door, peeking out to see if your parents are around. Then you tiptoe down the stairs very carefully because you don't want to roll down the stairs.

"Oh my god, Y/N, give me your hand!" he whispers as he comes up the stairs and slowly takes you down.

"Jungkook!!!!" you jump and hug him. You miss him so much, you would rip his clothes right this moment at how excited you are.

"Baby, I miss you." "I miss you so much moreeeee." "No, I do!" "Nope, it's me." You both fight as you stay in each other's embrace. You miss his warmth and just the feeling of him so much.

"I wanna fuck so badly." "Shhhhh, behave, Y/N." He covers your mouth, looking around just in case your parents hear you. "I don't want to behave," you whisper, your lips grazing his ear, a hint of mischief lacing your words. He closes his eyes at the feeling of your lips. He doesn't want you to behave either,

but he can't; you both must be cautious. You're not alone here. "Being on your best behavior gets you nothing. So why not be bad instead?"** Jungkook's jaw tightens, his dark eyes narrowing as he tilts his head to face you.

"You think being bad will get you what you want?" You smirk, leaning in closer. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like it better when you try to fix me." A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest, but his expression remains firm. "Oh, I'll teach you how to behave when we get home."

"Yes, please, Mr. Jeon..." He arches a brow, his tone dropping an octave as he counters, "Being on your best behavior has its benefits, darling." "Then teach me, sir..." "Don't test me, Y/N. We're not home," he warns, his dark eyes flashing with intensity. You can't help but chuckle at how quickly he reacts, you intentionally edge him. "I'm hungry! Make me something..."

"This isn't my kitchen..." he protests, glancing around nervously. "I know, but do something," you reply, gesturing at the ingredients scattered on the counter. "Your mom will kill me if she sees this mess." "I'm giving you full permission to mess up my mom's kitchen. So just do it. Make me something," you insist with a playful pout.

He rolls his eyes but relents, pulling open the fridge in search of something quick and easy. After rummaging through its contents, he grabs crackers, peanut butter, and jelly—something simple that won't create too much chaos. As he starts preparing, you interrupt with a soft plea.

"Wait—come here. Help me sit on the counter, please.!"  "Y/N..." he sighs, but there's no real annoyance in his voice, just mild exasperation mixed with affection. He steps closer and gently lifts you, his hands steady as he sets you down on the cool countertop. You smile at him, swinging your legs slightly.

"Much better. Now I can supervise properly." "Supervise? All you're doing is sitting there and watching me," he teases, smearing peanut butter onto a cracker with deliberate care. "Exactly. I'm an excellent supervisor. And also—"You pause, poking his arm to grab his attention. "I like being close to you."

For a moment, his movements falter, and he glances up at you with an unreadable expression. Then he shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"You're so annoying."  "Yeah, but you love it," you quip, making him chuckle as he resumes his task. Minutes later, he holds up a cracker sandwich triumphantly. "Here. Gourmet dining at its finest."

You giggle, taking the makeshift snack from his hand. "Who needs a five-star chef when I have you?" "Yeah, yeah," he mutters, turning away, but you catch the faint blush creeping up his neck and red ears, popping a cracker into his mouth as you pull his arm to make him get closer to you. "Stay close..." you whisper as you deeply exhale in his warmth. You miss him so much, you can't wait to be around him every second.

"I want to go home." You mumble while licking the peanut butter off your finger. "But you are home..." he says with a frown. "Home is where you are, Jungkook, where we both are together." This makes his heart skip a beat, but he doesn't show it. "Yeah?" he asks, and you nod with an eyebrow raise. "Getting quite good with your words, huh?" "I've always been good with my words and actions."

"That, I know," he says with a smirk, scooping a dollop of peanut butter and playfully smearing it on your nose. "Heyyy!" you protest through laughter, retaliating by dabbing a bit on his nose too.

"Shhh..." he whispers, his chuckles melting into the quiet warmth of the moment. He cups your jaw gently, his thumb brushing your cheek as he leans in, resting his forehead against yours. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, eyes locked, the soft hum of affection filling the air. Neither of you notices the figures watching from just beyond the doorway.

"They really do love each other, honey," your dad says softly, his voice filled with quiet pride as he glances at his wife and wraps an arm around her shoulders. She smiles, her eyes glistening with emotion.

"I know... I know," she whispers.

next chapter ⇢