#kwon soonyoung/reader

[stayteezdreams]

Ruh-Roh

Plot: You and Soonyoung try to get through a variety of haunted escape rooms, all the while, your new-found friendship, or possibly more, starts to grow.

Prompt: "If you say we should split up I will kill you."

Pairing: Kwon Soon-young | Hoshi x Gn!Reader (acquaintances to ???)

A/n: I'm running out of steam to write so sorry this is a bit short and boring lol

Words: 1k

Your heart was beating at a constant high-paced rate as you and Soonyoung finally moved from one room to the next.

You and some of your other friends had come to a horror themed escape room. Of course, you made bets of who could make it out the fastest, with random drawings of who you would be paired with.

Soonyoung ended up picking your name, and though you weren't disappointed, you didn't know him all that well compared to the others. You knew he was nice, cute, and maybe a bit crazy.

During the escape room, you had learned a bit more about him, and the two of you were getting along quite well. You hoped you might be able to get to spend more time with him now that you had been able to get a bit closer.

These thoughts came about partially because during this experience, you had become curious as to whether or not he might like you. Some things he said came off quite flirty, and you had caught him staring at you quite a few times now.

The idea of him liking you caught you off guard, though you had to admit you weren't entirely opposed to the idea. You were having fun with him, and it made you curious as to what ways you just might get along in other situations.

The two of you had made it through half of the escape rooms, only needing a few clues, and only screaming about a dozen times. You were already exhausted, but with Soonyoung's constant banter you were having a good time.

Your wandering thoughts came back to reality as you and Soonyoung came across two doors. A sign above them saying "Pick your fate."

Soonyoung tried to peak into the rooms but was unable to without choosing a door. Looking back at you, you saw the moment an idea crossed his mind.

Just as he opened his mouth you rose your hand. "If you say we should split up I will kill you."

Surprise passed his face as you read his mind before he spoke. He broke into a grin and laughed at the seriousness of your tone.

He looked back at the doors, "Okay, okay. But which one should we take?"

You hummed, "Okay, how about this? You are Door One, I am Door Two, we play rock paper scissors, winner is the room we go into."

Soonyoung nodded his head in approval, "Good idea!"

After tying the first try, Soonyoung won the second, so the two of you chose Door One, pressing the button to choose and go in. Entering the room, it was dark with an eerie glow. You and Soonyoung went silent as you peered around the room.

Suddenly a sign on the other side of the room lit up, "Wrong Choice."

Hearing maniacal laughter, you and Soonyoung looked at each other with wide-eyes. Another sign lit up with the single word 'RUN' written on it as the door at the end of the room opened.

Hearing someone running towards your room from the hallway you had just come from, Soonyoung suddenly took your hand as he began running. You ran alongside him while sparing a look back to see figures pulling at the door to chase after you.

As the two of you ran you came across door after door, each one you had to choose randomly. You haphazardly ran through random doors.

Sometimes you were met with a "killer" chasing you, sometimes you had to solve a puzzle before getting through.

You and Soonyoung were in a frenzy of panic. Your confusion only grew as you seemed to pass through familiar rooms, as though you had somehow ended up in a labyrinth or the backrooms. Some of the killers after you would appear, disappear, and reappear somewhere else.

Finally passing through two double doors a cheerful bell rang out as a sign appeared ahead of you, "Congratulations!"

"I don't trust that." You said bluntly through heavy breaths.

Soonyoung chuckled and shook his head.

You looked back through the door, and seeing no killers, you thought maybe you were okay for a short while.

You groaned as you saw Soonyoung looking around. "Why do I feel like we're in an episode of Scooby Doo?"

He chuckled as he sat down on a chair to catch his breath, "Seriously! I think we passed through the same room like five times!"

You nodded in agreement as you took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down. Glancing back over at Soonyoung you saw him staring at you again and your stomach fluttered.

"What?"

Jolting, as though he hadn't realized he had been staring, he sat up a bit with a soft cough. "Nothing, just, thinking about how fun this is." He chuckled sfotly, as if trying to convince himself that was really what he was thinking.

You smiled to yourself as you nodded, "It is! Though I don't think I'll ever do it again."

He chuckled as he stood up, "I couldn't agree more."

Walking up to you he looked around again, "But, I have had fun hanging out with you. I kind of wish we had done it before."

You met his eyes and felt the sincerity in his words as he smiled at you. You smiled back and nodded, "Me too."

"Maybe we can hang out again?" His voice got a bit quieter at the end of his question, as if he was surprised it came out.

You nodded, "I'd love to."

"Yeah!?"

You chuckled, "Yeah."

He grinned as he shuffled on his feet timidly, "Awesome."

You let out another soft chuckle before you both jumped in surprise as a sudden alarm blared and red lights started flashing. Hearing a distant animalistic yell coming from the hallway, you and Soonyoung froze.

Soonyoung, ever the class-clown, gulped and spoke hoarsely, "Ruh-Roh." Before grabbing your hand and pulling you along once again.

Fighting back a laugh, you followed him, your heart beating quicker for more than one reason. Soonyoung looked back at you as you ran through the doors, a grin on his face as you both laughed as you continued to run.

The two of you may have made it out slower than four of the other groups, but you came out of it with a new friendship. A new friendship that both you and Soonyoung hoped would become more.

xx End xx

Sorry it was so short and probably not the best, I am writing these the day before they come out at this point lol

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[seungcheorry]

types of kissers on svt.

seungcheol: tongue kisser

this dude is slipping his tongue into your mouth the moment he has the chance. don't get me wrong, if he can't kiss you properly he will set for pecks, even just soft kisses using those plump lips - but if we're talking actually kissing, then he wants to taste you and have you sighing. one hand on your hips, the other one on the back of your head.

jeonghan: smooth kisser

jeonghan is sooo smooth when it comes to kissing. you might not even notice him sliding his tongue into your mouth - either because he's also caressing your arm or sliding his hands to your waist -, but once you do and you sigh, jeonghan makes sure to smile against your lips as he leads the kiss in his own way (because you better believe he's doing this his way).

joshua: the smiler

he's happy to be there, kissing you. he's happy to be able to feel you on his lips, taste lingering on it for hours afterwards, hands moving all around your body. he's so happy that, when he's out of breath, joshua takes his time to smile on your lips, to show you how his serotonin levels are way up now (even though sometimes his eyes are saying "i'm gonna ruin you").

junhui: free kisser

his kisses are always gentle, as if he's waiting for you to show him how you want it. will gladly move his lips, put some tongue into you and even some teeth, but you gotta start it. he just loves kissing so much, it doesn't really matter how it goes to him so you have a free card to ask for whatever you want.

soonyoung: nasty kisser

let me get this straight: the nastier, sloppier and wetter, the better. soonyoung likes to hear you kissing him, the sounds your lips make, the sound his tongue caressing yours make. he isn't scared to get saliva all over his chin, so don't even bother stopping him - he's only stopping when neither you or him can breath.

wonwoo: slow kisser

it's not even planned, it's just default by now - he somehow always grab your face with both his hands, holding you in place as his lips open yours to welcome his shy tongue. it's slow most of the times, it's a bit clumsy - when he doesn't take his glasses off -, but it's so full of love. most likely to whisper a 'come here' before kissing you.

jihoon: the intense kisser

this motherfucker treats every kiss as if you're about to disappear. a hand on your face, the other one roaming your body, as he expects you to do the same. grabs your hair and pulls your closer, let's you take control over the kiss and how much movement you want, but keeping you close it's his job. groans and moans against your mouth, especially if you use your tongue on him.

dokyeom: the toucher

can't kiss without touching you. "oh, but it's just a peck on the lips-" yeah, and he's gonna grab you by the neck while you do it. romantic, slow kiss in the middle of his kitchen? his arms are circling your body. make out session on your couch? his hands are grabbing your thighs and/or hips. a shy kiss in the middle of the street? his hands are holding yours. for real, there's no kissing without touching with dk, ever.

mingyu: the teaser (who likes being teased)

mingyu loves to tease in anyway he can, especially if he's trying to build up something more. expect his hand around your neck, his teeth softly biting and pulling your lips, long and happy sighs against your mouth, his tongue sliding on your own - there's many, many tricks he likes to use it. please, match his freak and he will melt in your hands too (pull his hair!!).

minghao: romantic kisser

minghao believes there's only so many things that can be as romantic as kissing, so he likes to put emotion into it. there is less tongue and more lips, he stops in the middle of it to look at you and brush your hair, peck your lips and your chin. he takes his time, it's really sweet - but it can also turn you both on.

seungkwan: shy kisser

he likes kissing, don't get me wrong - but full kisses, with tongue, sounds, hair grabbing and stuff are only reserved for the bedroom. outside of it, seungkwan's kisses are shy, there's always a faint tone of red adorning his cheeks as he pecks your lips for a few seconds. might even whine if he tries to pull away but you grab his neck and make him stay there. it's cute.

vernon: soft kisser

he's slow and gentle. vernon always starts with his hand on your face, cupping your cheek as he savory the kiss. it's his way to convey all his love for you on it. might rest his hands on your hips if he's feeling like letting you control the kiss or sliding them from your face to your neck if he feels like controlling.

chan: the smirker

this motherfucker knows what he's doing when he holds your face, pulling you towards him and giving you a peck before actually kissing you, his lips controlling yours and stopping to smirk against your mouth when you try to pull him closer. he's a menace AND a good kisser, i'm sorry.

have you considered tipping me? | ko-fi 🍒

[kissbyoon]

⠀𖼥ৎ⠀“wedding ring” ₍ svt ₎

───── ABOUT how svt would react to you removing and leaving your wedding ring before heading to shower.

⋆ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff, humour, married au, headcannons ⋆ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: husband!svt x gn!reader ⋆ 𝒄𝒘: mentions of skinship, kissing, petnames ⋆ 𝒘𝒄: 0.6k in total

A/N: all thanks to @wonkierideul for helping me out♡ ily oomfie

 ⑅ Jeonghan, Woozi, Minghao, Vernon, Wonwoo

I feel like for these five, it really won't be a big deal. Because as far as they can remember, he didn't do something that would upset you. They are also aware of the fact that—no matter how mad you are, you would never take your ring off. But if you ever did, their heart will stop beating and it's not even a joke. They would often tell you how the ring is a symbol of your marriage that is filled with love and happiness, and it means alot to them. So there's no way you would never do that to their poor heart.

But one plus point for Jeonghan—this man would definitely be like “Phew, I thought you were mad at me for eating the last piece of the cake���” then get on his knees to beg for forgiveness when you actually get mad.

 ⑅ Joshua, Junhui, Dokyeom, Chan

These four wouldn't be a big problem, but they would definitely be a bit worried. I feel like they would ask you “Why did you take your ring off? Did I do something wrong?” As soon as you step out of the bathroom. Especially Chan and Dokyeom—this man would be worried. He is thinking of all the things he did the whole day and is ready to fall to his knees as soon as you step out of the shower. But once you reassure them with the real reason why you left it there, they would be relieved and happy again. (OUGHHH CHANNIE MY BABYYY)

 ⑅ Seungcheol, Hoshi, Mingyu, Seungkwan

Now I present to you… the most dramatic group of men. You definitely weren't thinking of it much when you left the ring there, but now, you better be prepared to face the most pouty hubby ever. And it's only fair I give you an idea of how the four of them would be dramatic in their own special ways.

Especially Seungkwan—he is throwing a tantrum. “This is torture to our 5 years of marriage… it's heartbreaking, I'm heartbroken!” Better shower him kisses because he is just waiting for that before throwing a kick in the air with happiness.

And we have Mingyu—the six feet man with all the buffiness becomes a puddle of sadness when you walk out of the shower and see him curled up on the bed, staring at the ring in front of him with a frown. No matter how much you reassure him, he is clinging to you and mumbling apologies for nothing. (STOP OMG I HAD TO COVER MY FACE WITH A GIGGLE IN THE MIDDLE OF WRITING THIS)

Well, now. Hoshi. Oh my god this horanghae guy is a menace. He looks at you with the most adorable sad puppy eyes ever when you walk out of the shower. And when I say the most adorable, I mean the most adorable sad puppy eyes. “Just say you hate me,” he would pout his heart out. But when you tell him, “Okay, my big baby, put the ring back in my finger yourself,” he would JUMP back up with the biggest grin ever that made his eyes close and kick the air with his feet at the petname. You shall call him ‘my baby’ everyday now. He accepts it more than ‘horangi’!

Sighs. Now, the worst of all—Seungcheol. This man’s hotness and buffiness is all wasted in front of you. He doesn't give a damn if he's looking like the biggest loser right now, but he would whine and pout about this the whole day. He would try to refuse physical touch throughout the day, but would eventually give up and come running to you himself. “Please hug me,” he would say while suffocating you in a hug.

KISSBYOON 2025. all rights reserved. @kstrucknet

[hoshifighting]

Arranged Marriage — Hoshi x Reader

— Synopsis: In contrast to the tired old plots of arranged marriages where the couple can't stand each other, you and Soonyoung are childhood friends. It's not just like marrying a friend—no, no, actually, it is marrying a friend, no-frills and simple. — WC: 10k — WARNINGS: smut, fluff, fingering, oral (m. receiving), penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, choking, one single slap on the ass, hair pulling, aftercare, whipped!hoshi, hoshi teases reader until she almost cries for dick, mentions of alcohol, mentions of body fluids (cum, sweat), DIRTY TALK—prob the nastiest dirty talk i've written.

You knew this day would come. 

Growing up in a world where luxury, money, stock exchange, and business were the pillars of existence, arranged marriages were just another part of the cycle. Two patrimonies merging into one for the benefit of both families—it was a tradition as old as time. 

Some couples embraced the spotlight, showcasing their unity to the world. Others barely tolerated each other, living in separate homes to maintain a fake image. There were also those whose mutual disdain led to chaos both in their personal lives and in the family businesses.

When you saw Soonyoung in your home, dressed in a suit that clearly wasn’t his style, you felt a hurricane of emotions. His usual vibrant, carefree energy seemed stifled under the weight of the tailored fabric. You greeted him and his family alongside your parents, both of you a shy mess, but something in his eyes told you things might not be as bad as you feared.

“Hey,” Soonyoung murmured as you both found a moment away from the adults’ formal discussions. “This suit is killing me.”

You laughed softly, feeling a sense of relief. “You look... different.”

“Yeah, definitely not my usual style, you know me” he grinned, loosening his tie. “But I guess we’re both out of our comfort zones today.”

You nodded, memories flooding back of the two of you playing outside when kids, during business congresses, your parents inside discussing mergers and acquisitions while you and Soonyoung chased each other around the gardens. “Do you remember those days?”

“Of course,” he said, eyes lighting up with nostalgia. “We had our own little world, didn’t we?”

“We did,” you replied. “And now, here we are.”

“So, how do you feel about this?” he asked, shy, looking at your expensive dress, clearly set for tonight. “About us... getting married?”

“I’ve been preparing for it my whole life, I guess,” you said honestly. “But with you... it feels different. Less intimidating."

“I feel the same,” Soonyoung admitted. “I mean, if it had to be anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

You smiled. “Maybe we can make this work. Find a balance between our lifes.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We can create something new, something that’s ours.”

You looked at him, seeing not just the boy you grew up with, but a partner. Someone who understood the complexities of your world and was willing to navigate them with you.

You looked around your house, taking in the scene. Soonyoung’s family mingled with yours, coworkers from your parents’ firms exchanged polite conversation, and your and Soonyoung’s nephews were playing circles around the couch. 

The weight of the day pressed on your shoulders, a burden that didn’t match the elegance of the dress you were wearing for the marriage proposal.

Soonyoung’s eyes met yours, noticing your tense posture. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?” he asked softly.

You looked at him, sulking, and he recognized the same expression you had when you were eight. 

He leaned in, whispering, “Don’t tell anyone, but I brought a bottle of tequila. It’s in my trunk. Would you like some to relax?”

You stared at him in silence before nodding with an exasperated look, feeling like it was exactly what you needed.

“Did you bring a shot cup?” you asked, following him outside.

He stopped, bottle in hand, and you both laughed. Taking the bottle from him, you leaned against his car, opened the cap, and poured a generous shot—maybe a little more—straight into your mouth. Soonyoung watched, his mouth wide open in surprise. You handed the bottle back to him.

“Why are you nervous?” he asked, taking a swig himself, looking comically exaggerated as he did. “I’m the one who has to kneel and propose today. My heart feels like it’s about to explode.”

You both laughed like teenagers getting away with something forbidden, hiding behind his car.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you broke it. “Do you have the ring here?”

He looked at you and nodded.

“Can I see it?” you asked, your curiosity piqued as if he had a rare Pokémon card.

“Is that right?” he teased.

You made doe eyes and asked, “Pretty please?”

He smiled, pulling a small black box from his pocket and opening it for you. 

The diamond ring sparkled in your eyes, its brilliance captivating. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured.

Soonyoung nodded, grinning. “My sister helped me choose it. I originally wanted a diamond shaped like a cat, but she said that wasn’t appropriate.”

You laughed, the image of a cat-shaped diamond making you smile. “It’s beautiful, but a kitten-shaped ring sounds adorable. I would’ve loved that too.”

His grin widened, a small, proud smile lighting up his face as you both admired the ring.

Your moment was interrupted by Soonyoung’s mom's voice, echoing from the house. “Oh my god, are you already proposing?”

Soonyoung choked on his own saliva, his eyes wide with panic. The best thing to do now? Say no and face his mother’s scolding for showing the ring prematurely, or actually propose right then and there?

Before he could think it through, he found himself on one knee on the sidewalk, his heart pounding. You quickly hid the tequila bottle behind your back.

“Soonyoung, what are you doing?” you whispered, eyes wide.

“I... I’m improvising,” he replied, clearing his throat. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

The spontaneity of it all, made you laugh and cry at the same time, you needed to pretend you were actually emotional. “Yes, Soonyoung. Yes, I will.”

You barely noticed the sudden crowd that had gathered around you, they'd appeared out of nowhere, all eyes on the two of you. Soonyoung’s hand trembled slightly as he slid the ring onto your finger, the cool metal contrasting with the warmth of his touch.

You smiled nervously at him, teeth gritted. “Hug me,” you whispered urgently, your eyes darting to the tequila bottle that was precariously wedged behind your back. “Please, put the tequila bottle inside your car. It's practically shoved inside my ass.”

Soonyoung blinked, processing your words before a grin spread across his face. He pulled you into a tight hug, the kind that felt both reassuring and grounding. As he embraced you, he expertly reached behind you, his fingers brushing against the bottle. 

You could feel his body shaking slightly with suppressed laughter.

“Hang on,” he whispered back.

He managed to grab the bottle and discreetly slid it out from behind you. Still holding you close, he took a step back towards the car, opening the door with one hand and slipping the bottle inside. The whole maneuver was so smooth that you doubted anyone noticed the clandestine operation.

That moment eased the tension of the night, but the tequila hadn’t taken effect yet, and you knew you had to keep an eye on Soonyoung. His alcohol tolerance was notoriously low, and you didn’t want him to embarrass himself—or worse, get into trouble.

As the night wound down and Soonyoung’s dad started to lead him to the car, Soonyoung sulked, trying to resist. “I want to talk a bit more to my bride,” he protested, his voice slightly slurred. His words elicited good-natured laughter from both families, who were enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

You walked over to him, giving him a warm hug and patting his head affectionately. “It’s time to go home, Soonyoung,” you said gently.

He looked at you with wide, earnest eyes, the warmth in his gaze reminding you of why you felt less nervous than you should. Soonyoung had always been warm-hearted, and maybe that’s why you felt a sense of calm amidst the chaos.

As you pulled back from the hug, Soonyoung’s hand lingered in yours for a moment longer. “Promise you’ll call me tomorrow?” he asked, his tone earnest despite his tipsiness.

“Promise,” you replied, smiling as you squeezed his hand.

With one last affectionate look, Soonyoung allowed his dad to guide him into the car. You watched as the vehicle pulled away. Your parents approached, their expressions a blend of amusement and expectation.

“Well, that was quite a night,” your mom said, her eyes twinkling with delight.

“Yes, it was,” you agreed, glancing at your dad, who nodded in approval.

“You two make a good pair,” your dad said, his tone warm. “I’m glad to see you both getting along so well.”

Your parents were now expectant, believing you and Soonyoung were truly becoming a couple. And in a way, you were—just not in the conventional sense they imagined.

The next day, even though it was a promise to a drunk boy, you called Soonyoung in the morning. Like any typical business wedding, the preparations started swiftly, aiming to have the wedding happen as soon as possible. Today, you were going to choose the food and drinks for the event.

When Soonyoung arrived, he was all tidied up, but his face was clearly tired. You laughed a bit, “You look…”

He completed for you, “Fucked?”

You chuckled, “I wasn’t going to say that.”

“Long night,” he admitted, rubbing his eyes. “But I’m here.”

“Good, because we have a lot to decide,” you replied, glancing at the event agent who was discussing the dessert options.

As you both looked at the event agent, who insisted on adding superfluous things to the sweets—like a layer of gold—you exchanged amused glances. The agent was enthusiastically explaining the virtues of gold-leaf-covered desserts.

“Gold? For us to... poop?” Soonyoung murmured incredulously.

You stifled a laugh and leaned closer to him. “Can’t it be something more tasty?”

The agent looked slightly taken aback. “Gold leaf is quite a statement piece.”

Soonyoung nodded, trying to be polite. “But we were thinking of something simpler.”

“How about churros?” you suggest.

The agent blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Churros? For a wedding?”

“Why not?” you said with a grin. “They’re delicious, and everyone loves them.”

“But they don’t exactly scream luxury,” the agent protested.

“They scream fun,” Soonyoung countered. “And isn’t that what weddings are supposed to be?”

The agent sighed, making a note. “Alright, churros it is. Anything else?”

“Maybe some street-style tacos?” he added, enjoying the agent’s bewildered expression.

“Tacos?” the agent repeated, as if the word was foreign.

“Yeah, why not?” Soonyoung agreed. “Let’s keep it simple and tasty.”

The agent finally nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Very well. I’ll make the arrangements.”

Honestly, days flew by with Soonyoung by your side. Planning every little detail of the wedding together brought both fun and challenges, especially when your tastes didn’t always align. It was a bit complicated at first, like when you two were choosing the destination for your honeymoon. 

Soonyoung wanted an adventure-packed trip to the Amazon rainforest, while you preferred a relaxing beach resort in the Maldives. The negotiations were intense, but you eventually settled on a compromise.

Choosing Soonyoung’s suit also proved to be a task. He insisted on wearing a tie with a tiger print, a nod to his childhood love for tigers. You were surprised that his fascination with the big cats had persisted, but you drew the line at a tiger tie. “Absolutely not,” you told him firmly, trying to imagine the looks you’d get. “A tiger tie is a no from me, and I think a lot of people would agree.”

“Fine,” he conceded with a sigh, but you could tell he was already thinking about how to sneak a little tiger motif into his outfit.

When it came to choosing your dress, you were accompanied by your mom, Soonyoung’s mom, and his sister. 

Soonyoung, the only man in the group, tagged along as well. The other brides at the boutique initially assumed he was either your brother or your stylist. 

Their jaws nearly dropped when they overheard he was actually the groom.

One of the brides, adjusting her veil in front of a mirror, turned to you, wide-eyed. “Wait, he’s your husband-to-be?”

“Yes, he is,” you confirmed with a smile, watching Soonyoung fuss over a lace detail on one of the dresses.

Another bride laughed softly. “Lucky you! He’s so involved.”

“He’s been amazing,” you said. “Except for his obsession with tiger prints.”

Soonyoung, overhearing, grinned and walked over. “What can I say? Tigers are cool.”

“Soonyoung, you’re a unique groom,” his sister teased, shaking her head.

As you tried on dresses, Soonyoung offered his opinions with surprising thoughtfulness, balancing out his more quirky suggestions. He was genuinely invested in making sure you felt beautiful and confident in your choice.

You’d tried on everything: the biggest gowns, the tightest silhouettes, dresses with endless layers of skirts, and others that hugged your hips so closely it felt like they were molded to your skin. 

There were corsets that took your breath away—literally—and fabrics that shimmered under the boutique lights. 

But this time, when you left the dressing room, you were wearing a veil.

Soonyoung’s eyes didn’t lie for a second. He liked this one very much. The women around you—your mom, Soonyoung’s mom, and his sister—fussed over the dress, adjusting it here and there, offering compliments. But Soonyoung was speechless.

If Soonyoung were to be completely honest, up until this moment, he had always seen you as his friend, the girl he was going to marry because of an arrangement. You were the same girl who used to run around the events, eluding the security guards with your mischievous giggles. 

But now, you were different. You were a woman. His woman. And you looked stunning.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you. The transformation was breathtaking. You stood there, looking radiant in your wedding dress, and for the first time, the reality of the situation hit him. You weren’t just a friend anymore; you were about to become his partner, his wife.

He was so lost in the moment that he didn’t realize he was gawking until you and the women turned to him, waiting for his response. He blinked, snapping back to reality, and managed to find his voice.

“You look...” he started, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words. “You look absolutely stunning.”

Your cheeks flushed at his earnest compliment. “You really think so?”

Soonyoung nodded, still unable to tear his eyes away. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.”

His sister grinned, nudging him playfully. “Told you she’d find the perfect dress.”

Your mom wiped away a tear, “You’re going to make a beautiful bride.”

Soonyoung’s mom stepped forward, adjusting a tiny detail on the veil. “This is the one. It’s perfect.”

You looked at yourself in the mirror, feeling a sense of certainty wash over you. “Yes, this is the one,” you said, smiling at the reflection and then at the people around you who made this moment even more special.

[...]

The days leading up to the wedding were a whirlwind of activity. Every day brought something new to choose, and your creativity was running dry. You were worn out, and Soonyoung knew it. Today had been particularly exhausting.

As the realtor showed you yet another option for apartments in the Metropole, you responded with short answers, your enthusiasm long gone after visiting sixteen places that day alone.

“So, what do you think?” the realtor asked.

Soonyoung noticed your hesitation. “Can I talk with my wife for a sec?” he asked.

The realtor nodded and walked off, giving you space.

“Y/N-nie... are you okay?” Soonyoung asked softly, looking at you through his lashes.

You sighed, your shoulders slumping. “I’m so tired,” you confessed.

He took a step closer, his voice softening. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You breathed out heavily. “My family is putting a lot of pressure on me, and I’m working relentlessly at the company. I can’t wait for us to get married…”

Soonyoung’s heart sank a little. “You want to get married just to get free from it?”

“No, it’s not just that. It’s everything. The wedding preparations, the constant decisions, the endless work... I feel like I’m drowning.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand. “We don’t have to rush this, you know. We can take our time.”

“But everyone’s expecting so much from us,” you replied, feeling the weight of expectations.

“Let them expect,” he said firmly. “And I want this to be as much about you as it is about us.”

“I just... I don’t want to disappoint anyone,” you admitted.

“You won’t,” Soonyoung assured you. “You’ve already done so much. It’s okay to take a step back and breathe.”

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit lighter. “Alright. Let’s look at this apartment one more time.”

Soonyoung nodded, giving you an encouraging smile. “And if it’s not the one, we’ll keep looking until we find the perfect place for us.”

You laughed softly, the tension easing. “You always know how to make things better.”

“Just doing my job as your soon-to-be husband,” he said playfully.

Soonyoung was doing an incredible job. 

From what you’d heard from friends who had gone through the same situation, they didn’t have partners like Soonyoung. You felt proud of him. 

He was your rock, making sure you took a breath when you were overwhelmed by the slightest things. He even insisted you didn't move a finger during brunch, making you so relaxed that you found the apartment you’d been searching for on the very same day.

The drive home was quiet, the car enveloped in a peaceful silence that allowed you a moment to rest. You laid your head back as he drove, appreciating the tranquility. Once you arrived, you stayed seated for a bit, soaking in the comfort of the quiet.

Soonyoung looked at you, waiting patiently. When you finally looked up, he gave you a gentle smile. “Ready to go in?”

You nodded, feeling a bit more refreshed. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He stepped out of the car and came around to your side, opening the door for you. “Take your time,” he said softly.

You appreciated his patience as you slowly got out of the car. “Thank you, Soonyoung.”

He smiled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked towards the house. “I’m just doing what any good partner would do.”

You leaned into him, feeling grateful for his support. “I don’t think everyone is as lucky as I am.”

He chuckled softly. “Well, I’m pretty lucky too, you know.”

As you entered the house, you felt a sense of relief. The apartment search was over, and you had found the perfect place. More importantly, you had Soonyoung by your side, making every step of this journey easier.

“So, what’s next on our list?” he asked, guiding you to the living room.

You sank into the couch, feeling the exhaustion of the day catch up to you. “I think a nap is next on my list.”

He laughed, sitting beside you. “That sounds like a perfect plan.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of the day lift off your shoulders. “Wake me up in an hour?”

[...]

The days flew by in a blur with the whirlwind of wedding preparations. It felt like only moments ago you were choosing flowers, tasting cakes, and finalizing guest lists. 

Now, as you stood at the end of the aisle, holding a bouquet in front of Soonyoung, the reality of the moment hit you with full force.

The weight of the dress and the pressure of looking perfect made your hands sweat like never before. You felt like a porcelain doll, perfectly polished and poised.

Soonyoung stood there, his eyes fixed on you with pride. He couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness. Here you were, a perfect woman by his side, and even better, an old friend he'd known for years. 

The familiarity of your presence brought him comfort. Despite the fact that you hadn’t really dated, the idea of having someone as pretty and cool as you with him every day made him feel at ease about the whole situation.

As you walked down the aisle, your eyes met his, and a small, reassuring smile played on his lips. He looked stunning in his suit, and the way he stood tall, waiting for you, made your heart flutter. 

You could see a hint of nervousness in his eyes, mirroring your own, but there was also a calmness there, a silent promise that everything would be alright.

When you finally reached him, he extended his hand towards you. He leaned in slightly, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “You look amazing.”

You blushed, your nerves momentarily forgotten. “Thank you. You look pretty good yourself.”

The vows were sincere, filled with heartfelt words that spoke more to your shared friendship than any romantic notion. Both of you couldn’t help but giggle as you remembered all the crazy things you’d done together as kids. 

Your minds flashed to the time you stole sweets from an event or when you both jumped into a water fountain during an important dinner with company directors.

As the officiant declared you husband and wife, all of these memories became a sweet reverie. You leaned in and whispered with a playful glint in your eye, “Are you going to kiss my lips or my cheek?”

Soonyoung blushed, clearly caught off guard by the question. A kiss on the cheek was typical in such moments since most arranged couples didn’t share a romantic bond. He stammered for a moment, his face flushing a deep shade of pink.

“Well… uh… I suppose the cheek would be safe,” he mumbled, eyes darting nervously.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, leaning closer. “But where’s the fun in that, Soonyoung?”

He looked at you, his eyes widening slightly. The playful challenge in your gaze gave him the courage he needed. With a deep breath, he moved in, his hand gently cupping your face.

“I think I’ll go for the lips,” he whispered back, his voice steadying.

The crowd held its breath as Soonyoung leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a simple kiss, not passionate, but filled with the warmth of years of friendship and the promise of a shared future. The applause that followed was thunderous, but all you could focus on was the feeling of his lips against yours.

As you pulled away, you both wore matching grins. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” you teased,

He laughed, shaking his head. “Not bad at all. Actually, it was kind of nice.”

You linked arms, turning to face the crowd together. Your parents looked relieved and proud, while your friends were cheering loudly, clearly entertained by the spectacle. Soonyoung’s eyes met yours again, and there was a newfound spark there, full of possibilities.

As you both shared champagne with your parents, Soonyoung playfully asked, "No tequila tonight?" You were about to respond when his mom's voice cut in, "Tequila?"

Soonyoung’s eyes widened, and his mouth twisted into a frown as he tried to suppress his laughter. You quickly improvised, "Huh, h-he meant... tacos! We had tacos with tequila last time, remember?" You forced a smile, hoping it sounded convincing enough. His mom seemed satisfied with the answer, nodding along.

After mingling with guests—aka talking with people from work about the next meeting—you finally found a moment to escape the spotlight. You and Soonyoung crouched behind the kitchen, hiding from the crowd. The chefs chuckled at the sight of the newlyweds sneaking bites of food, but they made sure to hand you the best eats, knowing how overwhelming the day could be.

Soonyoung grinned, playfully nudging you. "We're so used to doing this at parties that we're practically pros now."

You nodded in agreement, a mischievous smile on your face. "Even though it's our own wedding party," you said, shaking your head in disbelief.

He chuckled, looking at the gold ring on your finger with a sense of wonder. "Our wedding... I still can't believe it. Oh my god, we're grown adults now."

You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching out to pat his head mockingly. "We've been grown adults for... kind of a long time already," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

He rolled his eyes good-naturedly, then leaned in closer, his voice softening. "Yeah, but it feels different now. Like, we're really starting something new."

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. It was true. The reality of your situation was sinking in, but in a way, it felt comforting. You had each other, and that made everything seem a little less daunting. As you sat there, hidden away from the chaos of the celebration, it struck you how much you appreciated this moment—just the two of you, stealing away for a breather.

“Shall we follow tradition?” Soonyoung asks, a playful glint in his eyes. You frown, confused, as he reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of tequila.

“Should tequila be kept in the fridge?” you ask, laughing at the sight.

“I hope so,” he replies, pouring the liquid into a cup. “This one is expensive.”

You raise an eyebrow, taking the cup from him. “The cheapest has the same effect,” you say, waiting for him to pour his own.

He chuckles, raising his glass. “But today’s a special day. We deserve the good stuff.”

You laugh it off, crossing your arms before taking the shot together. The familiar burn makes you both scrunch up your faces.

The wedding party was truly one of a kind. You and Soonyoung were a bit too excited, turning the waltz space into a wild dance floor. 

At first, your parents were too embarrassed to join, especially at the sight of Soonyoung twerking on you. But soon, even the directors and business partners were on the dance floor, dancing and drinking extravagantly.

[...]

The next morning, you and Soonyoung were woken up by the buzzing of your phones. 

Your makeup was smudged and stamped on the pillow, and you were still in your wedding dress. You scratched your scalp, feeling the bobby pins still tangled in your hair. 

Soonyoung was no better; his shirt was unbuttoned to his belly button, his tie was loosened around his neck, and his hair looked like a bird's nest. He scratched his forehead groggily. Despite sharing the same bed, you both seemed unbothered by it.

You grabbed your phone and saw the company group chat flooded with messages:

“Wow, last night was incredible! Congrats to the newlyweds!”

“I can't believe we all danced that much! My feet are killing me. :')”

“Best wedding party ever! So happy for you guys!”

“My head is pounding, but it was totally worth it. ^^ Cheers to you both!”

“I’m still recovering from all that dancing. What a party!”

“Never thought I’d see the CEO breakdancing. ㅋㅋㅋㅋ”

You couldn't help but smile at the messages, as Soonyoung peeked over your shoulder, a sleepy grin spreading across his face.

“My head hurts,” Soonyoung complains, rubbing his temples.

You adjust the corset of your dress, feeling the tightness around your ribs. "My ribs are squeezed," you grumble, wincing as you try to get comfortable. "I can't believe I slept in this."

He yawns, glancing down at your leg. "You even kept the garter on," he points out, noticing the delicate band still around your thigh.

You crack your neck, feeling the weight of the long night. "Your sister gave it to me, so I put it on," you explain, lifting the voluminous skirt to reveal the bridal garter.

His eyes widen comically. "My sister?! Is there something I don't know?"

You frown at him, a bit confused. "You don’t know about the tradition?"

Soonyoung looks a bit lost, scratching his head. "I mean, it’s my first time getting married."

You sigh, laying back down. "Traditionally, the groom is supposed to take it off when... taking the virginity," you explain, watching his face turn a shade of pink.

His eyes dart around nervously, processing the information. "So... my sister thought I was... a virgin?"

You shrug, teasing, "Probably. Are you?"

He laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Definitely not. And you?"

You raise an eyebrow, smirking. "Nope. Sorry to disappoint."

He chuckles, finally relaxing. "Good to know. Not that it matters, but... it's funny to think about how everyone just assumes stuff."

“Are you going to take it off?” you tease, stretching your leg up and wiggling your foot playfully. Your eyes glint mischievously as you watch Soonyoung’s reaction.

He scoffs, but a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. “What, you mean right now?” His eyes flicker to your thigh, then quickly back up to your face, trying to gauge if you’re serious or just messing with him.

You arch an eyebrow, maintaining your playful expression. “Why not? It’s tradition, right? Don’t you want to fulfill your husbandly duties?” You stretch your leg out further, making the garter more visible.

Soonyoung chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, but there’s a sparkle of joy in his eyes. He reaches out hesitantly, his fingers brushing lightly against your thigh. The touch sends a shiver to your skin, and you can’t help but giggle.

“What’s the matter?” you prod, your voice dripping with mock innocence. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

He rolls his eyes, trying to suppress a laugh. “Not at all,” 

You bute your lip as his fingers graze the lacy fabric of the garter. His touch is feather-light, almost ticklish, and you squirm a bit under his hand.

Soonyoung smirks, clearly enjoying your reaction. “You’re squirming,” he notes, his voice low and teasing. “Does that mean you’re nervous?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “Me? Nervous? Please,” you retort, trying to sound confident despite the rapid beating of your heart. “I’m just surprised you’re taking so long. I thought you’d be an expert at this.”

He chuckles, sliding his hand a bit higher up your thigh, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate strokes. “Oh, I am,” he replies smoothly. “Just savoring the moment.”

“Well, don’t take too long,” you murmur, your voice softening slightly. “We wouldn’t want to miss out on any other wedding traditions.”

Soonyoung grins, his fingers hooking under the garter. “Right, can’t forget those,” he says, his voice tinged with a hint of naughtiness. 

He gently tugs on the garter, slowly sliding it down your leg, his eyes never leaving yours. 

As he finally slips the garter off, he holds it up triumphantly, a goofy grin on his face. “There, tradition fulfilled,” he declares, waving the garter like a trophy.

You laugh, shaking your head at his antics. “Congratulations,” you say, clapping mockingly. “You’ve successfully removed a piece of elastic lace. Truly, a remarkable achievement.”

He bows dramatically, playing along. “Thank you, thank you,” he says, flashing you a cheeky smile. “It was a tough job, but someone had to do it.”

You can’t help but laugh, the light-hearted banter making the moment feel even more special. Soonyoung’s hand lingers on your leg for a moment longer before he finally lets go.

As Soonyoung gets up, stretching his arms with a yawn, he announces, "I'm going to take a bath." He heads towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

You sit up, still feeling the effects of last night's festivities, and shout after him, “Ya! Ladies first!”

From behind the closed door, you hear Soonyoung's laughter echo in the bathroom. “Sorry, didn’t hear you over the sound of me already starting the water!” he calls back, his voice filled with playful defiance.

You shake your head, smiling to yourself. It’s these little moments that make everything feel so natural and easy with him. After a few minutes, you hear the sound of running water stop, and Soonyoung emerges from the bathroom, his hair damp and a towel wrapped around his waist.

“All yours,” he says, grinning. “I left some hot water for you, too.”

You roll your eyes playfully, grabbing your toiletries and heading into the bathroom. The warm water is a welcome relief, washing away the remnants of makeup and the night's events. After a quick shower, you step out feeling slightly more human, though the hangover still lingers.

As you both finish getting ready, the thought of breakfast crosses your mind. However, just the idea of food makes your stomach churn. The hotel's breakfast spread is typically lavish, but today, the thought of greasy bacon and pastries is anything but appetizing.

Soonyoung, dressed in a casual outfit, catches your expression as you look at the food options. “Yeah, not feeling it either,” he says, rubbing his temple. “Let's skip it.”

You nod in agreement, both of you opting for just a coffee to stave off the worst of the hangover. With minimal conversation, you gather your belongings, checking out of the hotel and heading straight to the airport.

But one thing you definitely didn’t expect was Soonyoung falling asleep on your shoulder within the first thirty minutes of the flight. His head rested heavily against you, and his hand, seemingly by accident, was placed on your thigh. 

As he softly snored, you couldn’t help but chuckle at how comfortable he looked. Anyone passing by would probably think you two were an old married couple, so naturally attuned to each other.

His head's weight pressed down on your shoulder, a constant reminder of his presence. Every now and then, you felt him subconsciously moisturizing his lips, a small, almost imperceptible movement that somehow made the moment even more cute.

You glanced at the small TV screen in front of you, trying to focus on the movie playing. It was a romance novel adaptation, the kind with sweeping gestures and grand declarations of love.

Normally, you might have rolled your eyes at the cliché, but with Soonyoung sleeping peacefully beside you, it felt oddly fitting.

As the plane cruised through the sky, you found yourself getting lost in the storyline, occasionally glancing at Soonyoung. His breathing was steady, a gentle rhythm that added to the soothing hum of the plane. 

You shifted slightly, trying to get more comfortable without disturbing him, but his hand tightened instinctively on your thigh, holding you in place. It was a small, protective gesture that made your heart flutter.

What you loved the most was when Soonyoung finally woke up, blinking sleepily and then immediately apologizing. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, his face flushed with embarrassment. You chuckled, assuring him it was okay, that he had every right to rest. He seemed genuinely mortified, even offering, “You can sleep on my shoulder too, I promise.”

You smiled at his earnestness, brushing it off with a light, “Maybe on the way back, then,” as the announcement came that you were about to land.

Once you arrived, Soonyoung was quick to grab the suitcases from the taxi, his efficiency a comfort as you made your way to the hotel's check-in counter.

The concierge’s eyes seemed to linger on you a little too long, his gaze sliding over your sundress and perhaps admiring more than just the attire. 

As you waited for the receptionist, the concierge leaned casually on the counter, offering a friendly, yet slightly flirtatious, smile.

“First time here, ma’am?” he asked, his tone smooth and inviting.

“Well, yes...” you replied, keeping your voice polite but detached. You could feel the weight of his attention and tried to subtly stretch your hand, making sure the gold ring on your finger was clearly visible.

The concierge didn’t seem to get the hint, or perhaps he chose to ignore it. “You’re in for a treat. We’ve got some wonderful spots for—”

Before he could continue, you felt Soonyoung's presence behind you, a comforting warmth at your back. His body pressed lightly against yours, a subtle yet possessive gesture that didn’t go unnoticed. His hand slipped around your waist, resting just below your belly, the touch gentle but unmistakably protective.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “Everything alright?�� he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity and a subtle edge.

You could almost feel the shift in the air. The concierge straightened up, his expression flickering between surprise and a polite smile. “Oh, just making sure your stay is perfect,” he said, his tone now more professional, eyes darting between you and Soonyoung.

“Thank you,” Soonyoung replied, his voice steady. His hand didn’t move from its spot on your belly, and the slight squeeze he gave was enough to send a clear message. You leaned back into him, feeling a rush of warmth at his silent claim.

The receptionist finally returned with your room keys, handing them over with a bright, “Welcome to our hotel! We hope you enjoy your stay.” With the keys in hand, you and Soonyoung made your way to the elevator.

As the doors closed, sealing you both from the world outside, you turned to Soonyoung with a smirk. “Looks like someone’s a little possessive.”

He grinned back, a playful glint in his eyes. “Just making sure everyone knows you’re taken.”

You tease him back with a playful smirk. “Well, it’s just a business marriage. You shouldn’t worry about stuff like that,” you say, your tone light and slightly mocking.

Soonyoung scoffs, turning his gaze to the side with a dramatic sigh. “You’re such an idiot,” he mocks, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“An idiot, hm?” you counter, crossing your arms with a smirk. “Well, I’m an idiot you agreed to marry, so I guess that makes you twice the fool.”

He raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Sharp tongue of yours, huh?”

You nod, feigning innocence. “What can I say? I’ve had years of practice.”

Soonyoung leans in closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, it’s a shame. I was really looking forward to giving you something special once we got to our hotel room.”

Your curiosity piques immediately. “Something special? Like what?”

He grins, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, just something that’ll make you remember tonight.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to gauge his meaning. “Something that’ll make me remember tonight, huh? Care to elaborate?”

Soonyoung chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, I think you already know what I’m talking about.”

You narrow your eyes, playfully challenging him. “Do I? Because you’re being awfully vague.”

He leans back, enjoying the game. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

The teasing glint in his eyes only fuels your curiosity further. You know exactly what he’s implying, but you play along, eager to hear him say it outright.

“So,” you press, “what is it? Can you give me a hint?”

Soonyoung’s grin widens, clearly relishing the moment. “Let’s just say it’s something that’ll make you very excited. And not just because of the hotel’s decor.”

You roll your eyes, laughing softly. “Alright, alright. I get it. You’re being all mysterious.”

You sulk, trailing behind Soonyoung as he walks down the hallway toward your room. “Tell me, pleeeease,” you plead.

Soonyoung glances back at you with a mischievous smile. “Nope, not telling,” he says, his grin widening as he enjoys your insistence.

When you reach the door, Soonyoung unlocks it and pushes it open, gesturing for you to enter. You walk in, your eyes scanning the room briefly, but your focus quickly returns to Soonyoung. He places the suitcases by the door and then hops onto the bed, sprawling out with a relaxed sigh.

You stay standing by the door, your arms crossed over your chest, giving him a sulky, upset look. 

“So,” Soonyoung says with a defiant glare, “am I forgetting something?”

You pout, trying to look as curious and frustrated as possible. “You’ve got me curious,” you admit, your eyes wide.

He laughs, brushing his hand through his hair with a playful sigh. “You’re almost throwing a tantrum over this?”

Soonyoung slides his hand down his abdomen slowly, getting lower and lower, until he's wrapping his fingers around his cock through his white shorts. The outline is clear, thick, and perfectly defined against the fabric.

He gives it a little shake, a sly smile playing on his lips as he watches your reaction.

You stare at him in shock, your knees almost giving way as you take in the sight. Your mouth opens slightly, but no words come out as you struggle to process what you're seeing.

Soonyoung’s smile widens, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “Are you surprised?”

He chuckles softly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Well, I figured it was time to give you a little hint,” he says, his hand still resting casually on his bulge. “So, do you think you’re ready to find out what else I have in store for tonight?”

You stammer, unable to look away from the outline of his cock pressed against the fabric of his shorts. “Do we have to wait until nightfall?”

Soonyoung licks his lips, his gaze never leaving you. “Oh,” he drawls, “but you have to walk properly tonight, so we can go to the restaurant.”

Your eyes darken, a fire igniting within you. “You think I can’t handle all of this inside?” 

He raises an eyebrows. “You shouldn’t,” he says, his voice dripping with devilishness. “It’s just a business wedding, after all.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Just a business wedding, huh? You really want to test me?”

Soonyoung chuckles, clearly enjoying the playful back-and-forth. “That’s right. Let’s see if you can keep your composure while we enjoy a nice dinner.”

You take a deep breath, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “Challenge accepted,” 

You’ve never been so turned on by someone’s mere presence before. The entire city tour was a cruel game of torture, all at Soonyoung’s hands. 

In the taxi, his hand had wandered to your nude thigh, brushing against your skin like a feather. The way his fingers lightly caressed your inner leg made your heart race and your breath catch. 

At the restaurant, the casual caresses continued. His leg pressed against yours under the table, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

The warmth of his skin against yours, the way he would occasionally let his knee slide up your thigh—each movement was like an electric current surging through you, leaving you squirming in your seat.

Walking through the jewelry fair was an exercise in restraint. As you admired the sparkling displays, Soonyoung’s hands kept drifting to the exposed skin of your back. His touch was light, almost playful, but each graze against your bare skin made you shiver with need. 

You could barely focus on the dazzling jewels in front of you; your mind was consumed with the need for him.

By the time you were back in the elevator, you felt like you were on the edge of losing control. You could feel his eyes on you, sharp and hungry, as you pressed yourself against the wall. 

You turned your face away, but you couldn’t hide the truth from him. Your nipples, straining against your dress, betrayed your arousal. Your legs, pressed tightly together, were a clear sign of your desperation. Even your unsteady breaths gave you away.

When you finally arrived at the hotel room, you barely made it inside before your desperation took over. 

You throw him against the wall, hands planted firmly on his chest. The sound reverberates through the room, probably making the neighbors wonder what the hell is going on. His usually small eyes are wide, staring at you flaggerblasted. 

Your breath mingles with his as you lean in, letting your lips barely graze his. Your voice comes out breathy, almost desperate, “Please. Stop teasing me.”

For a moment, he's stunned, caught off guard by the whininess in your voice and the look on your face—like you might break if he doesn't give you what you need right now.

It's a twisted scenario, considering you're his childhood friend turned wife is standing before him with an expression that borders on agony—an agony only he can alleviate.

For a moment, he looks like he might laugh, but he knows he's on the verge of losing all sense of control, but a part of him relishes the idea. 

“Say it again,” he murmurs. He knows he's playing with fire, but he can't resist the thrill. His lips barely brush against yours, teasing, taunting.

“Soonyoung, I'm going to fucking cry if you don't—”

“Hold it,” he commands,you shudder, your breath hitching as he lifts your dress. And you comply, bunching the fabric in your fists to keep it out of the way. 

His hand slides down the front of your panties, and your head falls back. 

Soonyoung leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear. “You’re so fucking impatient,” he growls. 

His fingers slide through your slick folds, finding you wet and wanting, throbbing everytime he rubs his fat fingers on you. “You’ve never even tasted my cock, and you’re already obsessed, huh?” He presses his thumb against your clit, making you gasp. “You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You whimper, your hips bucking against his hand. You can barely think straight. “Please, Soonyoung,” you beg again, your voice cracking.

He chuckles darkly, clearly relishing your desperation. “You want my cock so bad, don't you?” His fingers slide inside you, curling just right, and you cry out. “You want me to fuck you senseless? Make you scream my name?”

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper. The words spill out of you, unfiltered and raw. “I want you to ruin me.”

“You’ve never had anyone fill you up like I will,” he says. “I’m gonna stretch you out so good, baby. You’ll be begging for more, even when you can’t take it.”

The dirty talk, the sheer vulgarity of his words, makes you even wetter. You feel like you're on the verge of losing control, and it's rousing. 

Soonyoung's fingers pump in and out of you, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge. His thumb rubs relentless circles on your clit, and you can feel the tension building, winding tighter and tighter.

“You’re gonna cum on my fingers first,” he whispers. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for days. Is that what you want, baby? To be fucked so good, you can’t even think about anything else?”

“Yes, yes, please,” you pant, your voice high and desperate. You can feel the orgasm building, Soonyoung's touch is all-consuming, driving you wild with every stroke.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs.“So eager to please. I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good.”

Here and there, Soonyoung is driving you insane with his body affixed to the wall, one strong arm holding your leg up. His wrist swiveling to match his fingers as they explore your weeping cunt and his repetitive rubbing of the areas that cause you to roll your eyes. 

You cry out, gasping as you roll your hips onto his fingers, the orgasm making you forget what would be appropriate at the time. Soonyoung's fingers work you through it, drawing out every last drop of you.

As you come down from the high, you realize you're still clinging to him, fingers deep on his muscular shoulders, your breaths coming in hiccups. Soonyoung pulls his fingers out of you, and you feel a pang of loss.

Your legs feel like jelly, and you can barely stand. Soonyoung catches you, pulling you close. 

Soonyoung's eyes rake over you, his smirk widening as he takes in the sight of your trembling legs. “You're trembling,” he chuckle. His gaze drops to the slick mess between your thighs, and he bites his lip, clearly reveling in the sight. “Better than this... you're literally dripping,” appreciating. 

He lets your leg down, holding you firmly as he guides you back onto the bed. The plush mattress sinks under your weight.

“God forgive me,” he continues, “but if our mothers weren't in that dressing room that day, I would've fucked you right there in the store. With that princess veil of yours... I would've pinned you against the mirror and made you scream my name.”

Your mouth falls open. The image of him taking you into that bridal shop, surrounded by white lace and satin, ​​hitting you like a punch to the gut.

You're not sure what shocks you more: his bold declaration or the way your body reacts to it, growing wetter with every word.

He smirks at your reaction.

“What's the matter, princess? Cat got your tongue?" He teases. His fingers slip under the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. “Or are you just too turned on to speak?"

He's right; you're completely at his mercy, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a response.

He strips off his shirt, revealing the sculpted lines of his torso, then shucks off his shorts. His erection strains against the fabric of his boxers, and he groans, closing his eyes and tilting his head back as he palms himself.

“I could've fucked you on that altar,” he visualize. "In front of all those guests. Just to show everyone that no matter how arranged this marriage was, you're mine. No one else's.”

He opens his eyes, locking onto yours. “I would've spread you open right there, had you screaming my name, showing them all who you belong to."

His dirty words, the way he claims you with every syllable, makes your head spin.

Soonyoung's hand moves over his bulge, his eyes never leaving yours. “You don't even know how much I've wanted you,” he hisses. “How much I want to fuck you senseless, make you mine in every way.”

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear. “And tonight, I'm going to do just that. I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget about everyone else. Just me, and this cock inside you, filling you up until you can't think straight.”

You squirm, your body responding to his filthy promises. You can't tear your eyes away from him, your mind racing with the possibilities of what the night holds. 

Soonyoung's fingers brush against the hem of your dress, and you shudder at the contact. “Take it off,” he orders, his voice rough. “I want you naked, spread out on this bed, ready for me.” His eyes bore into yours, and you know he's not just asking—he's demanding. 

You slip your dress over your head, tossing it aside as you finally catch sight of Soonyoung completely naked. His hand moves over his erection, the cockhead glistening with precum. The sight makes you lick your lips.

“Can you—” he starts to ask, but you cut him off, not needing him to finish.

“Yes!” you nearly moan. His eyes darken, a smirk playing on his lips as you drop to your knees in front of him.

You take a moment to appreciate the sight before you. His cock is thick and veined, the head an angry red, glossy with precum. You can almost taste it just from looking.

Tentatively, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the tip, tasting the salty precum on your tongue. It's musky and slightly bitter, but it makes you want to choke on this cock. You swirl your tongue around the head, savoring the taste and the way his breath hitches above you.

Soonyoung's hand tangles in your hair, guiding you closer. “Yes, baby,” he groans, his voice thick with need. “Just like that.”

Encouraged by his reaction, you take him deeper into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. The texture of his cock is smooth yet rigid, the veins pulsating against your tongue. You hollow your cheeks, creating a tight seal as you bob your head, taking more of him with each movement.

His hips jerk forward involuntarily, and you hear a strangled moan escape his lips. “Shit, that feels so good,” he pants, his grip on your hair tightening. You look up at him through your lashes, your eyes meeting his. The sight of him looking down at you, his face twisted in pleasure, spurs you on.

You slide your hand up his thigh, wrapping it around the base of his cock to stroke what you can't fit in your mouth. Your other hand cups his balls, gently massaging them as you continue to suck him. 

You hum around his length, sending vibrations through him. He shudders, a deep groan rumbling from his chest. “You're so fucking good at this,” he praises, his voice breathless. “So eager, so perfect.”

You moan around his cock at the praise. You take him deeper, pushing your limits as you feel him hit the back of your throat. You gag slightly but push through, wanting to please him, wanting to show him how much you want this.

“Y/N,” he gasps, his hips bucking forward again. “You're going to make me cum if you keep doing that.”His voice is strained, you don't know if he's warning you or if he's desperate.

You don't let up, doubling your efforts. You suck harder, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head every time you pull back. Your hand continues to pump the base of his cock, matching the rhythm of your mouth. You can feel him throbbing, his cock pulsing with need.

Soonyoung's moans grow louder, more desperate. His breaths come in uneven pants, his body tense with the need for release. “Fuck, Y/N, I'm so close,” he warns, his voice breaking.

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his as you take him even deeper. You want to see him come undone, to watch him lose control because of you. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth, and with one last swirl of your tongue, he lets out a choked moan.

He comes hard, his hips jerking as he spills into your mouth. The taste of his release floods your senses, warm and salty. You swallow every drop, savoring the way he trembles above you. His hand in your hair tightens, holding you in place as he rides out his orgasm.

His hand gently strokes your hair after, a contrast to the rough grip from moments before. You pull back, licking your lips and savoring the last taste of him.

He lifts you up effortlessly, his lips crashing into yours. He doesn't care that his cock was just in your mouth seconds ago or that his cum lingers on your tongue. The taste of himself on your lips makes him moan, the sound vibrating between you.

After a moment, he pulls back, one hand wrapping around your throat, not tight but firm enough to make you feel his presence. His eyes bore into yours, as he licks his sensitive lips.

“You were sucking me so good,” he rasps, “that I almost said ‘I love you’.” 

A laugh bursts out of you, hearty and genuine, and he watches you with a smirk. 

“I swear,” he continues, his tone playful. “if I'd known marrying you would come with benefits like this, I would've done it way sooner.” “I feel like I owe you something after that blowjob,” he says, his voice dropping into a deeper, more sultry tone.

You bite your lip, a dirty thought flashing through your mind, and Soonyoung picks up on it immediately. Soonyoung's gaze narrows, reading the filth in your expression

“What is it? What do you want?” he asks excitedly.

“Can you fuck me… doggy style?” you ask.

“Yes, I can,” The corners of his mouth twitch, barely holding back a grin.

You look up, pretending to be lost in thought, then say, “Can you fuck me in missionary?”

He nods again, biting his lip, his grip on your throat tightening just a little.

“Can you fuck me inside… the shower?” 

He presses you tightly against him, his hand gripping your waist possessively, but your gaze still eating him whole. 

“I can fuck you upside down, sideways, any way you want, baby,” he answers, his voice steady and confident. “Just say the word, and I'll make it happen.”

You moan in response. Too early to say that you're already dumb for his cock?

“Get on all fours and lift that pretty ass for me.”

As you crawl up the bed, you make sure to put on a show. You arch your back, lifting your ass higher, giving Soonyoung the view he wants. You wiggle it a little, teasing him. 

The motion makes your pussy lips part slightly, already slick and ready for him. You can feel his eyes on you, burning with thirst. Without warning, his hand comes down hard on your ass, the sharp sting making you gasp. You let out a yelp. You know that mark will be there tomorrow, like a postmark, like a stamp, like a reminder of this moment, and the thought makes you even wetter.

He moves behind you, the bed dipping under his weight. You feel his hands on your hips, gripping you firmly as he positions himself. You can't help but push back against him, seeking more contact.

“So fucking perfect,” he mutters, running his hands over the curves of your ass, squeezing the flesh and kneading it roughly. He spreads you open, taking in the sight of your wetness.  “Look at how ready you are for me. You're dripping, baby.”

You moan, pushing back against him, desperate for more. “Please, Soonyoung, I need you.”

“Fuck, you sound so desperate,” he taunts, positioning himself behind you. His cock slides against your folds, teasing you, making you whimper. “Beg for it. Beg for my cock.”

“Please, Soonyoung, fuck me,” you whine. “I need your cock inside me, please. I can’t wait any longer.”

He doesn't tease, doesn't make you wait any longer. He thrusts in with one hard, deep stroke, filling you completely. The sudden intrusion makes you cry out, a slight discomfort as your walls stretch around him. But it makes your toes curl. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, gripping your hips as he starts to move. “So fucking tight and wet for me. You feel that? That’s my cock stretching your pussy.”

You moan loudly, the pleasure building with each thrust. “Yes, Soonyoung, I feel it. It feels so good. Fuck me harder.”

He picks up the pace, his hips snapping against yours, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. He reaches around, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles. The sudden burst of pleasure makes you gasp, your body jolting.

He pulls back slowly, only to slam back in, setting a rough, punishing rhythm, making you roll your eyes back.

He's so deep, hitting spots you didn't even know existed. Each thrust makes you see stars, and you can't help but moan loudly, not caring if the entire hotel hears you. The stretch, the fullness, it's all so overwhelming, so fucking good.

“Come on,” he urges, voice a low growl. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you squeeze this cock.”

It's all too much. The feel of his cock, his fingers on your clit, the dirty words spilling from his lips—it all sends you over the edge. The second orgasm of the night making you feel already exhausted. Your voice hoarse, as you feel yourself sloppier between your legs. 

There's no mercy in his movements; he's fucking you through your high, pushing you beyond your limits. Each time he hits your cervix, a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain ripples through you, making your arms tremble uncontrollably.

You try to hold yourself up, but your strength falters. With a soft cry, your arms give out, and your chest falls against the bed. Soonyoung lets out a low chuckle, a smug grin spreading across his face as he watches you crumble beneath him. Even with your body slack, you're impossibly tight around him, your pussy squeezing him like a vice. 

Soonyoung’s hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he continues to pound into you from behind. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, stretching you, making your walls clench involuntarily around him. 

He leans over you, his breath hot against your ear, and you can hear the pride in his voice as he coos, “Aww, look at you. So fucking helpless, so fucking wrecked. You can’t even hold yourself up, can you?” 

You can barely muster a response, a breathy whimper escaping your lips as you feel the tears start to stream down your cheeks. It’s an almost incredulous feeling, the tears mixing with the sweat on your face. 

You’ve never been fucked like this before, never been pushed to the brink and then beyond, your body betraying you as it trembles under his control. It’s a raw, visceral experience that leaves you gasping for air, your mind a hazy blur of feel.

Soonyoung notices the tears, and his smirk grows wider. “Look at you, crying for me,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Is it too much, baby? Too fucking good? Love being fucked so hard you can’t even think straight?” 

His hand moves from your hip to your hair, tangling his fingers in it and pulling your head back, forcing you to arch your back even more. The angle shifts, and he hits that perfect spot inside you, making you moan loudly, your voice cracking with the intensity of it all.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groans, his hips snapping forward with even more force. “God, you’re squeezing me so fucking hard. It’s like your pussy doesn���t want to let me go.” He punctuates his words with deep, hard thrusts that leave you reeling, each one sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through your body.

“So pretty when you cry,” he continues, his tone almost taunting. “I could do this all day, just watch you fall apart on my cock” His words are filthy, degrading, but they ignite something inside you, a desperate need for more. 

The way he speaks to you, the way he claims you with each word and each thrust, is addictive.

You can’t hold back your sobs. “Please,” you manage to choke out, not even sure what you’re begging for anymore. 

More, less, anything—just something to ease the dizzying sensation coursing through you.

He laughs softly, a dark, knowing sound that makes your skin prickle. “Please what, baby? You want me to stop? You want me to fuck you harder?” 

He pulls out almost completely, the emptiness leaving you gasping, and then slams back in with a force that makes your whole body jolt.

“You’re so fucking greedy. Can’t get enough, can you? You want this cock to ruin you, want me to fuck you so good you’ll feel it for days.”

All you can do is moan and sob, your body shuddering with each thrust as he pounds into you. The bed creaks under the force of his movements, it’s dirty, raw, and utterly nasty.

“Gonna make you cum again,” he murmurs, his voice a dark promise. 

And as you feel the tension building inside you again, that familiar coil of pleasure tightening in your belly—you know he’s right.

He lays you gently on the bed, your back sinking into the mattress. Your face, flushed and glistening with sweat, looks completely wrecked, completely exhausted. Soonyoung feels a brief flicker of pity, but it quickly dissipates as you babble out your dirty words, barely coherent but dripping with need. “Please... Soonyoung... more, need you so bad... fuck…”

He smirks, spreading your wobbly legs apart, exposing the slick, swollen mess between them. “You can barely form a sentence, and yet you still want more.”

He slides his cock back inside you, stretching you open once more. 

Soonyoung's thumb finds your clit again, and he begins to work it in slow, light-touch circles. The sensation is maddening, a delicious contrast to the deep, methodical thrusts of his cock. 

He watches your face intently, drinking in every expression, every gasp and whimper."That's it, baby," he coos. “Let me see that pretty face when you cum.”

You can barely keep your eyes open, your body overly sensitive from the previous orgasms, but he doesn't let up.

His other hand moves to your chest, fondling your breast, his fingers pinching and rolling your nipple before sliding up to wrap around your throat. This time, the grip is firm, real, and you can feel the delicious pressure as he chokes you just enough to make your head spin.

He leans in closer, his eyes never leaving your face. 

You cling to him, your arms wrapping tightly around his body, pulling him closer as if you could merge with him, become one. The scent of sweat and skin mingling in the air—it all consumes you. 

Your body is trembling, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core, a white-hot band of pressure that threatens to snap. Soonyoung's moans are louder now, but they seem distant, like they're coming from underwater, muffled by the roaring in your ears.

His pace quickens, and you feel yourself losing control, your mind slipping away from the physical world. The room, the bed, even Soonyoung—all of it fades into the background. 

There's only the blinding, all-encompassing pleasure that fills every nerve, every cell in your body. It's like being pulled under a wave, the sensation crashing over you with a force that's almost violent.

Your thighs tremble uncontrollably, and you can feel the muscles in your abdomen clenching, the buildup to your orgasm reaching its peak.

And then, it hits. The climax rips through you, a white-hot explosion that leaves you gasping, the world narrowing down to the blinding sensation of pure, unadulterated pleasure. 

Your back arches off the bed, your mouth opening in a silent scream as your vision goes white. The intensity is mind-numbing, erasing everything else from your mind except the overwhelming euphoria that pulses through you.

Your body shakes with the force of it, your legs quivering, toes curling as the pleasure radiates outward from your core. You can feel the slickness between your thighs, the way your walls flutter and squeeze around Soonyoung, pulling him deeper inside you. 

Soonyoung's name falls from your lips in a choked sob, your voice hoarse and trembling. 

You slowly come back to reality, feeling the weight of Soonyoung's body on top of you, his cum warm and sticky between your bellies.

Soonyoung pants loudly, trying to catch his breath. He lifts his head slightly to look at you, concern flickering in his eyes despite the satisfied smile on his lips. “You okay, wifey?” he asks.

You manage a weak smile, still feeling the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. “I’m okay, hubby,”

His smile widens, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he murmurs. “You were amazing.”

You chuckle softly, the sound a bit strained. “You weren’t too bad yourself,” you tease, your hand coming up to rest on his back, feeling the muscles still taut from effort.

He laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against your own. “Glad I could satisfy my wife on our first night together,” 

“Think we should clean up?” Soonyoung asks after a while.

“Probably,” you agree, though neither of you makes a move to get up just yet. You’re too content, too wrapped up in the warmth and comfort of each other’s presence.

Eventually, with a reluctant sigh, Soonyoung shifts, carefully pulling away from you. The cool air hits your skin, making you shiver slightly. He helps you sit up, his hands gentle and supportive as you both make your way to the bathroom.

The weight of the wedding ring on your finger feels heavier now, more symbolic than ever. It’s not just a piece of jewelry; it’s a constant reminder of the commitment you’ve made and the life you’re building together.

Soonyoung, despite his own exhaustion, is kneeling beside the tub, gently washing you. His focused expression as he works to make sure you’re clean and comfortable. The sight of him, so dedicated and caring, makes your heart swell.

You feel a pang of guilt as you see the tiredness etched on his face, a reminder of how much he’s given for you, both physically and emotionally. Your legs, still trembling from the aftermath of the passion, had given up on you, leaving you reliant on him. The thought of him taking care of you, even in his weariness, makes you feel both grateful and a bit ashamed.

“Hey,” you say softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. “You don’t have to do this. I can manage on my own.”

Soonyoung looks up at you, his eyes softening as he smiles. “I want to,” he says quietly. “You took care of me earlier, and now it’s my turn to take care of you. Besides, it’s kind of nice, being able to do this for you.”

You look him in the eye and sense the truth in his words. His warm, comforting smile belies the weariness that is evident in the lines on his face. 

[...]

As you and Soonyoung lie together in bed, the room is quiet except for the soft rustling of the sheets and the occasional sigh from either of you. The memories of what just happened still lingers in the air, making both of you feel a bit shy and stunned.

As Soonyoung lays his head on your chest, you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. He sighs contentedly, his fingers lightly tracing patterns around your breast. 

“So,” he begins, his voice tinged with both surprise and a hint of playfulness, “when I hinted at what I wanted, I honestly didn’t think you'd go for it. I was kind of... hoping, but also preparing for a rejection.”

You chuckle softly, your fingers running through his hair. “Oh really? And why not?”

“Well, for one, you’re ridiculously hot. I didn’t think you’d be that into it right off the bat.”

You giggle, feeling a rush of confidence. “Oh, come on. Why wouldn’t I? You’re hot, and let’s be honest, you knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Damn, so you think I’m hot, huh? And here I was thinking I’d have to put in a little more effort.” He rises to look at you, but you make him lay again, your cheeks flushed.

“I can’t believe we managed to go from ‘I do’ to ‘Let’s fuck’ in just a few days. We really don’t waste any time, do we?” You say, grinning. 

“Yeah, I guess I underestimated how much I’d resist you, but I knew I was in trouble from the moment we got married… I thought I’d be a strong soldier, holding out a bit longer.”

He hums thinking. 

“I’m surprised I managed to hold out for as long as I did.” he finishes.

You raise an eyebrow, a naughty smile playing on your lips. "Well, I guess you’re not as disciplined as you thought. Seems like you fell for me quicker than you’d like to admit.”

Soonyoung’s eyes sparkle. “You’ve got me completely hooked.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, your hand resting on his cheek. “Poor soldier. Captured by the enemy and all. What will you do now?”

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours in a tender kiss. "I guess I’ll just have to surrender to you completely.”

“Even the strongest can fall. And let’s be real, I’m pretty good at making sure my soldiers surrender.” You shrugged, smirking. 

He bursts into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn, you really know how to make a guy feel like a total pushover.”

“I plan on keeping you hooked, you know—well, at least until the next time we have a ‘conversation’ like tonight."

“Well, if this is what marriage looks like, I think I’m going to enjoy every minute of it.”

[sealmisuyu]

Seventeen and their baby💭

─┈ ۫  ˖  ⊹ ୨sealmisuyu◛ ˚₊🍈 ֹ ׅ ɞ more content under the cut!

You were convinced that being an idol was supposed to be cool.

You were also convinced that being the youngest in a company full of older idols should not mean you were treated like a lost puppy at all times.

But Seventeen had other plans.

The first time you met Seventeen, you were starstruck. The second time you were ambushed.

"She’s so small" Seungkwan announced, staring at you like you were a rare animal at the zoo.

"I’m literally a normal height" you deadpanned, but it didn’t matter because Mingyu had already picked you up off the ground like a sack of rice.

"HAVE YOU BEEN EATING WELL?"

"PUT ME DOWN THE FUCK—"

And from that day on, the teasing never stopped. You were practically a baby to them, and they took their big brother roles seriously.

"Did you drink water today?"

You blinked up at Minghao, who had materialized out of nowhere with a bottle of water in hand.

"Uh… yeah?"

He squinted. "Drink again."

You sighed but took a sip anyway, because you knew better than to argue with him.

And it wasn’t just that.

When you tried ordering coffee, Joshua intercepted with a horrified gasp. "You’re too young for that!"

"Josh, I’m literally an adult"

"You’ll stunt your growth!"

"I’M ALREADY GROWN?!"

Dino nodded solemnly. "This is how they treat me, too. There’s no escape"

Unfortunately you learned that the hard way.

One time, you tripped during a music show rehearsal, and before you even hit the ground, Joshua had already caught you, Jeonghan was checking your knees, and Hoshi was yelling at the floor.

"WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT TO HER?!"

(Hoshi please it’s just a floor)

And don’t even think about dating.

"Who are you texting?" Woozi asked casually, glancing at your phone.

"No one."

"You smiled."

"I was looking at a meme!"

But it was too late.

"WHO IS IT?"

"DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH?"

"IS IT SOMEONE WE KNOW?"

The way they interrogated you, you’d think you were committing a crime.

"Guys, I don’t even like anyone!" you huffed.

"Good" Vernon nodded"Boys are scary"

"…Aren't you a boy?"

"Exactly."

If you posted a selfie, they flooded the comments with embarrassing uncle energy.

"Our baby is so cute!!!" – Hoshi

"Why is she posing like that?" – Woozi

"POCKET SIZED" – DK

If you did a weevers live, they showed up in the chat like overbearing parents.

"Did you eat?" – Seungcheol

"Why are you still awake??" – Jeonghan

"She’s not even reading our comments, betrayal." – Jun

It wasn’t just words. They really did treat you like a younger sibling in every way. If you were lost in a music show building, you called Mingyu. If you were stressed about choreography, you messaged soonyoung for tips. If a sunbae was being intimidating, Wonwoo would just... stand next to you silently until they backed off.

And whenever you had a comeback, they made sure to cheer the loudest.

"She’s so tiny!" Dino cooed when he watched your latest stage.

"That’s crazy" Vernon muttered. "She’s literally our age gap in physical form"

You rolled your eyes at them but couldn’t help the smile creeping up your face.

They acted like you couldn’t even breathe without their supervision, but you kind of… loved it? They never let you feel alone in the industry, always making sure you had people to lean on.

So, after your first music show, when you turned your head instinctively to find your members, your eyes instead landed on them— Seventeen, screaming their heads off in the crowd like proud dads at a school play.

And when you cried after winning your first award, they didn’t tease, didn’t joke.

They just hugged you one by one, whispering, "We’re so proud of you little one"

And suddenly you realized.

They weren’t just your sunbaes.

They were family.

[nonranghaes]

you pick up on the first ring when soonyoung calls, much to his relief, as he continues to wander through the apartment. he pulls the bathroom door closed, and looks around again. "... did you go somewhere?"

"no?" your voice is a little muffled, a little hoarse from what he suspects was a nap, but grows clearer after a second. "i'm home."

"no, you're not." soonyoung takes a few steps, turning in a circle once more. you're clearly not in the kitchen, not draped across the couch, and it's too quiet on your end of the call for you to be out on the balcony. "i've checked everywhere for you."

he pauses, eyeing the small closet in the entryway. its crowded with boxes and other things, but... he can't resist making his way over, slowly pulling the door open enough to peek inside. just as he expected, it's still cluttered. the two of you really should go through it all one day...

"i'm in bed? i told you," you pause long enough to yawn, "i was taking a nap after work..."

he furrows his brows, already making his way back to the bedroom. "i told you, i already looked in there--" he opens the bedroom, looking around the dark room before flicking the light on. again, he doesn't see you. "is this a prank? i'm hungry and i thought we were going out--"

you sit up from underneath your mountain of blankets, and soonyoung laughs. the sound echoes on your phone for a moment as he ends the call, already making his way over with a loving "hi, baby," to pepper kisses on your face. you still look like you just woke up, squinting at him as you drop your phone back onto the bed and lean into him.

next time, you'll take a video. just so you can tease him a little over it... and maybe relisten to that laugh a couple times when you're having your hardest days.

[highvern]

Beggin' On My Knees

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader

Genre: fluff, smut, hint of angst, established relationship, biker! hoshi

warnings: pregnancy, impreg/breeding kink, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, unprotected sex, praise kink, body worship, spitting, praise kink

Length: ~8k

Note: inspired by the Please, Please, Please MV. this was originally an idea for taehyung but alas my top freak took over again. something about biker/mechanic hoshi really is beautiful thank u @tomodachiii @haologram and @gyuswhore for keeping me sane

summary: After another run in with the law, you come to terms with the fact your friends might be right about your fiancé.

m.list

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.

Even at your age, it’s somehow more embarrassing to buy pregnancy tests than condoms. You wouldn’t know since you’ve never bought condoms. That particular responsibility falls exclusively on your fiance after the few times in college when you snagged handfuls from the bucket inside the campus clinic.

You’ve bought a pregnancy test before. Not for yourself but for friends too embarrassed to walk into the pharmacy and publicly declare how active their sex lives were. Now you understand why they wanted someone else to do it. Why are there twenty different brands? Why do they require some high school employee to unlock the case so you can pick the one you want? Why are they so damn expensive? The anxiety you feel rivals the first time you bought weed sophomore year of college from some sleazy frat boy.

You’ve got the box resting on the bathroom counter, a timer on your phone, and the test just out of sight while you pace back and forth in the small space. The door is shut for no other reason than to isolate away from Soonyoung in the event he gets off work early.

You should call Soonyoung. He’d want to know, fight the urge to say something stupid like “I’ll try harder next time” when the tests come back negative and instead offer to pee on one in solidarity if only to lighten the mood.

You never understood when people say a woman just knows until right now because with each passing second the reality that those tests are going to be positive sink in. Despite the fact you and Soonyoung almost always use a condom and the times without them end with him coming anywhere not inside you. You just know it.

Each second ticks down like a bomb waiting to detonate.

Positive. Positive. Positive.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your stomach twists.  Surprisingly, you don’t dread it as much as you would have a year ago. But a million things a baby entails rush over you. Cleaning out the spare room upstairs, doctors appointments, daycare, clothes, school. Do you even know how to actually take care of a kid? One that belongs to you, who you can’t give back to their person when they get fussy or hurt.

Soonyoung was born to be a dad. He never hid how badly he wanted a family of his own, a family with you. He’s good with kids too. You’ve seen him with his nieces and nephews, your friends’ kids. The middle schoolers in your neighborhood come to him with broken bikes and scooters to be fixed, knock on your front door to ask if he can help them get their ball down from some tree. Even if he doesn't know what he’s doing he’d be there by your side.

As the initial shock washes away, the knots in your chest slowly unfurl. You can do this. Even though you planned your life down to the last detail, Soonyoung has a way of sweeping you into his tide. Engagement, marriage, house, babies. In that order. You’ve already got the house before he asked you to marry him and your wedding is only a month away. 

After the worst of the panic settles into restless jitters, you leave the solitude of the bathroom. Soonyoung still isn’t home from work yet but it isn’t unusual. He’s been pulling more hours, shouldering more responsibilities since Mr. Lee, the owner, hinted at a promotion. Glancing at the clock, you guess he’ll walk through the door in two hours which gives you plenty of time to put together something to surprise him.

After a long shower, you burn time by cleaning up non-existent messes; you can’t sit still. The ‘surprise’ ends up being lackluster. Your weekly grocery shopping trip is tomorrow so the fridge is slim pickings for dinner and you make the executive decision to go out once Soonyoung is home. Some fancy restaurant neither of you can afford with tiny dishes designed to leave you hungry and stopping at the diner at the edge of town for a burger. 

While the noise from the TV hums in the background, you scroll through internet searches on what to do when expecting. Doctors appointments, blood tests, advice on budgeting. It’s information overload but you’re giddy even with the stress.. Then you see it. A screenshot from one of your friends. No words, just a photo. 

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

The longer you stare the quicker the realization becomes a reality. Soonyoung, your Soonyoung, the Soonyoung you’ve been waiting to get home, the reason for three positive pregnancy tests still on the bathroom counter, stares back. Or his mugshot does. A proud stain on the town jail’s website for everyone to see.

Storming out of the house, you notice Jeonghan’s car is gone from his own driveway. Hopefully he’s given your fiance an earful at the station already. If not, you’ve got plenty to say.

Whatever giddy happiness possessed you earlier is long gone, rotten disgust taking its place. How stupid do you look waiting for him at home while he’s gone and gotten himself locked up?

That stupid bike.

It isn’t the first time. That was the initial appeal back when you were a doe eyed freshman, finally out from under your parents thumb with more freedom than you knew how to handle. Soonyoung was the stereotypical bad boy with a taste for fast cars, working in a garage to your good girl persona who set the curve in all her classes. A few drinks at a run down dive bar landed you on his bike in some back alley, a hand under your skirt while he whispered the nastiest things you’ve ever heard. Then you returned the favor back at his apartment, riding him with enough vigor the headboard slapping against the wall sent his neighbors into a fit.

Then came the routine of Soonyoung picking you up from your dorms late at night, staying out until sunrise doing who knows what. He showed you off at street races, called you his girl in front of friends, and would take you out to the lake after winning a race and make you feel like a winner too. 

It was fun. 

Until the calls he’d been out street racing again wore down your patience as your friends’ giddy curiosity turned to embarrassment and ‘I told you so’s. It wasn’t enough to break your heart, but it tore your ego to shreds. They called him a loser and you defended him time and time again because you loved him. Because he promised it wouldn’t happen again.

He promised the last time was the last time. The time before that was also the last time and the time before and so on. 

The parking lot of the police station is nearly empty this time of day; a few police cars and a handful of other vehicles. Otherwise, it sits deserted. 

Jeognhan is waiting for you at the front desk, pretending to type away at something on the computer but you know better. You’ve done this song and dance too many times. 

“What the fuck did he do this time?” 

He quirks an eyebrow, sliding a clipboard with the usual paperwork your way as he speaks. “What do you think?” 

You nearly rip through the paper from pressing the pen so hard as you sign. “You’re fucking kidding me.” 

“Ma’am, language,” a young officer warns.

You’ve never seen him before and the stern look on his face pisses you off even more. His eyes widen in what must be fear because he scrambles back to the filing cabinet at the back of the room without speaking. “I didn’t know you had a new bitch, Han.” 

Jeonghan takes his clipboard back before you can whack him with it. “Nope, that's still your fiancé. Chan, go get Soonyoung from the box.” 

“Tell him I’ve got a hammer in the car for his balls,” you call. 

“Please refrain from making threats inside the police station.”

Soonyoung has the sense to look afraid when he rounds the corner. He’s still in his work clothes, oil stained shirt and dirty coveralls, hair matted to his forehead. You can only imagine what he sees. Last time you picked up he’d still been drunk from a bar fight and you made him sleep on the porch with Jeonghan’s engine as an alarm clock. You’d been too tired to make threats, half asleep the entire time. This time, you feel on the verge of crying, throwing up, and exploding into a fiery rage.

You don’t wait for him while Jeonghan hands over the bag of Soonyoung’s belongings. Halfway to the car, he races to catch up without a word and goes as far as rushing ahead to open the driver's door for you. There’s a fraction of a second you contemplate speeding off before he can get into the passenger seat, let him walk home in the dark as punishment for being a dumbass. But you don’t. You want to yell at him for being a dumbass until your throat bleeds.

The car smells like motor oil and sweat with him so close in the passenger seat. You gag at the stench, rolling all the windows down to avoid vomiting. The last thing you want right now is to need him.

Under usual circumstances the silence hanging heavy in the air would be comfortable, familiar and warm with the golden hue of the sunset and the sound of cicadas not far off. The world holds its breath, but you don’t.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to find out you got arrested from someone sending me your mugshot?” you ask at the first red light. Soonyoung tries to answer but you cut him off. “No, you don’t. Because I’d never put you in that position.”

He grumbles out the window. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re better than me.”

“You think I’m pissed because I think I’m better than you? I’m pissed because you act like a fucking loser. I’m pissed because you’re a liar! You promised me you wouldn’t do this dumb shit anymore. YOU PROMISED ME. And I look like an idiot because I’m stupid enough to trust you.”

You wait for an excuse. Some honeyed platitude about how much he loves you and it being a mistake and how it’ll never happen again but Soonyoung offers nothing. 

“What do you want me to say?” he asks.

You scoff. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t.”

“Clearly!” you shriek, the vein in your neck throbbing. “Do you know how it feels to have my friends send me your mugshot? I’m at home tearing my hair out and you’re street racing some kid for kicks.”

“He wasn’t a kid—” 

“I don’t give a fuck!” The edges of your vision scorch red, teeth gnashing. You’ve never been this angry with him. You’ve never been this angry, period. “Grow up!”

He’s lucky Jeonghan caught him and not one of the other officers hell bent on cleaning up the streets. He’s lucky you didn’t have to front bail money neither of you have, especially now. Instead of spending the weekend in jail, Soonyoung’s punishment is fixing whatever Jeonghan sends his way for the next month free of charge but it’s not enough, not even close.

The kill shot bubbles on the tip of your tongue but that last bit of self control keeps it under lock and key. This isn’t how you thought you’d tell him, nowhere close to the way the evening happened in your head before you saw that picture. You wanted to surprise him. Watch the way the news sunk in slowly then all at once. You remember the test you left on the kitchen counter for him to find when he got home before everything went to shit. The ember of rage flairs back to life.

“You wanna race so bad, go fetch!” You don’t think as you rip the keys to that cursed bike from his hands and chuck them out the window into the grassy median, gone in a flash. It’s only a temporary solution but it feels good. It’s the next best thing to taking a bat to his bike until there’s nothing salvageable.

Soonyoung sputters. “Are you crazy?” 

Maybe. You’re absolutely toeing the line of unhinged. The car skids to a stop, tires burning against the asphalt. Thankfully the road is clear of any traffic.

“Get out,” you demand.

“What?”

“Get out. Get out, get out, get out!” You repeat the words over and over until he does what you tell him to. You feel the suffocating tightness in your chest signaling tears are seconds away. 

“Baby, let's talk about this,” Soonyoung begs. He tries to reach through the window, he knows your weak spots too well. You snatch your hand away before he can take advantage.

“You can have this back!” You launch the diamond band right at his chest before taking off.

You get back home on autopilot. There are red lights and stop signs and other traffic laws you can’t remember if you followed but you’re in the driveway and barreling up the porch with shaky breaths. Guilt doesn’t cross your mind for a second. Soonyoung didn’t feel guilty for racing like a dumbass until he got caught, so why should you feel guilty for letting him deal with the consequences? 

The urge to do something mean, not just mean but hurtful with the intent of seeing Soonyoung sick to his stomach, rears its head. If that’s what you wanted then mission accomplished. He saved for a year to buy that ring and you threw it in his face like it was nothing but cheap plastic. The ire from earlier rushes out of you like a deflating balloon. Your fingers itch for a cigarette but unlike your now ex fiance, you have to cut out all your vices. There’s no relief in pacing back and forth. There won’t be any solace inside the house either. You’re so tired. All the highs and lows of the day have drained you of everything. You don’t want to be mad or sad or anything anymore. You just want to go to bed and sleep off the entire day. 

You want to leave but you don’t. You want to yell some more but Soonyoung will be at least another hour. There’s nothing to anxiously clean while waiting so you water the crispy plants on the porch while you wait.

Jeonghan’s cruiser pulls into his driveway across the street thirty minutes later. Still no sign of Soonyoung, not a missed call or text. You think to worry but he gets out of Jeonghan’s passenger seat and trudges your way.

He looks angry and tired. But your swollen eyes and splotchy face melts the furrow in his brows.

“I’m—”

You silence him with a blast from the water hose. Soonyoung takes his punishment like a man, standing completely still while you douse him from head to toe. 

“I deserve that. Please, just listen to me—” He’s silent with another stream aimed at his chest. You feel some validation seeing him embody the way you feel: pathetic. 

“Will you put the hose down so we can talk about this?”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you huff, dropping the hose for him to clean up.

“Then I’ll talk and you listen.”

“No.” You head towards the door with no intention of letting Soonyoung inside. “Go sleep at Jeonghan’s, I don’t wanna be around you right now.”

“He already told me no.”

Jeonghan would take mercy on Soonyoung in this state; soaked to the bone with your engagement ring in his pocket.

You turn to face him. “I want you to get rid of your bike.”

Soonyoung stays at the foot of the stairs leading up the porch. He knows how you feel and he has the sense to look ashamed.

“You want me to sell Tammy?” he asks.

“I want Tammy to fall off a cliff into the abyss but that’s obviously not going to happen,” you seethe, blinking away more frustrated tears.

“I have a lot of good memories with Tammy.”

“What? The first time you got arrested? Or the time you fell off and broke your arm? Oh, I know! When you ended up in a ditch?”

“The time I asked you to be my girlfriend. And the time I won enough money to help put a down payment on the house. When—“

“It’s me or her.”

Does it feel juvenile giving your fiance an ultimatum between you and a godforsaken bike? Absolutely. But you’ve got a kid to think about now and the thought of Soonyoung missing their life because he’s too busy chasing the rush makes you sick.

“It’s you.” Soonyoung says it with finality but you don’t believe him.

“Then prove it.”

“I’ll do anything.”

“Sell it. First thing tomorrow morning.”

He laughs bitterly. “I’m not selling my bike.”

“Then I’ll be sure to tell your kid their dad is a fucking loser.” 

He blinks like the words don’t fully set in but your back is already to him by the time they do. Locked inside the house, you lean back against the door. You don’t want him to hear the crack of breath in your throat breaking into hot, wet tears. 

“What do you mean my kid?” Soonyoung’s panicked voice comes through the door. “YN! Open the door!”

“Go away.”

His whispered curses slip through the door while he scrambles for the spare key hidden in the potted plant by the door. If you really wanted him locked out, you would’ve remembered to move it before he got home. Part of you does want him stuck as far away as possible. You don’t want to face him because you know he’ll kiss your tears away and that’s all you want right now. You want him to hold you, promise you everything will be okay.

The lock of the bedroom door clicks into place right as Soonyoung gets the front door open. You hear him downstairs, looking for where you’re hidden. You can plot his course in your head: straight through the living into the kitchen where one of the positive tests waits to greet him on the counter, then he comes racing up the stairs and outside the door.

He twists the doorknob with no success. “YN.”

“Go away,” you sniffle into the pillow. His pillow. You’re on his side of the bed, in one of his old shirts because even if you wish you hated him.  

A dull thud against the door and a sigh signals his departure. You hear him shuffling back downstairs, but the sound of the front door never comes. The fatigue of the day takes over swiftly. Surrounded by the comforting smell of Soonyoung, you fall asleep until the smell of food wafts up through the vents. Not burnt but if Soonyoung is in the kitchen then it’s only a matter of time.

You creep down the stairs, careful to stay quiet so you can sneak back up without getting caught. Soonyoung’s body blocks whatever he’s organizing on the counter but you tell it’s a bribe from the sight of take out bags piled in the trash.

“What’s that?”

“Dinner. Do you want some?”

He’s got an entire pizza with garlic knots and cinnamon twists laid out like a feast. You watch him pretend to be nonchalant but he’s glued to your every move as you approach the counter and shove an entire garlic knot into your mouth, chewing with enough force to warn you haven’t forgiven him yet even though you're close to it. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“Then we won’t talk,” he sighs into the base of your skull, fingers edging beneath your shirt for the comforting warmth of skin on skin. 

“Don’t,” you say, but lean back into the warmth of his body despite yourself.

“I’m sorry.”

Sure he is. You know he means it. Soonyoung is always sorry but it doesn’t stop him from being a dumbass. But he’s your dumbass no matter how many fights you have.

He lets you eat, content to hide his face in your shoulder and his fingers warm against the waistband of your sweatpants. You hate crying and you hate crying in front of him – because of him – even more. The heavy silence of the kitchen and the love of your life clinging onto you like his life depends on it brings a fresh prick of tears. Once you start, you can’t stop. The tears keep coming as Soonyong maneuvers your face into his chest. His new, clean shirt turns into your tissue. You fall into him without hesitation.

“Are you really…” he asks quietly, dropping kiss after kiss against your hair while you wring out like a sponge. 

“Do you think I’d lie to make you feel bad?”

“No. I just—fuck. You’re pregnant.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“How do you feel?”

You blow your nose into his neck. “Like I wanna punch my kid’s dad in the nuts.”

“He probably deserves that.”

“He definitely does.”

“And he deserves to sleep outside.”

“Yep,” you nod.

“But you still love him?”

“Of course I do, you big idiot,” you sigh, leaning back to look at him. Mistake. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” His brow presses to yours, face rounded out, soft cheeks that make you want to scream. Brown eyes shine beneath his lashes. Soonyoung knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

You don’t but things would be a lot easier if you did.

Soonyoung takes the silence as an admission, and when you don’t object he falls to his knees, pulls your shirt out of the way and presses his face into your stomach. “We should name it Donatello.”

“No.”

“Leonardo.”

“No,” you giggle despite yourself.

“Raphael.”

“You are not naming our baby after a Ninja Turtle.”

“Mojo Jojo Jojo.”

“No.”

“Thanos.”

“Stop!”

“You’re laughing?” Soonyoung gasps, rushing to his feet to pin your squirmy body between him and the counter’s edge. “I’m trying to have a very serious conversation and you’re laughing?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“And you love me.”

You nod, hiding back into his chest where it’s safe. “Yeah, I love you.”

The silence marinates between you. 

“I’ll sell the bike, promise.”

“You’re not the best at keeping promises.”

“This time is different.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want our kid to grow up thinking their dad doesn’t worship the ground their mom walks on. Because I know she’s way too good for me and I’m lucky to have her.”

“I’m not too good for you, I hate when you say that.”

“You called me a loser.”

“I said you acted like a loser and I won’t take that back.” 

He looks away. “That’s fair.”

The icy wall of hurt freezes back up but you’re too tired to drag on the fight any longer. “When I found out my reaction wasn’t ’oh he’s being stupid.’ It was ‘how would I tell our kid their dad missed their birthday because he got himself locked up.’ That’s all I could think about. Explaining to our kid over and over why you’re never there.”

The words rest like a wet blanket over his flame of excitement. He doesn’t want to be that kind of dad; the one who misses their child’s life for something as stupid as street racing. Who leaves you to pick up a broken heart time and time again, two broken hearts.

You’re at arms length, Soonyoung examining you like a puzzle he can’t figure out but wants to try anyway. You hate when he looks at you like that. Like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen and he can’t quite believe you’re real. “You’re gonna be a great mom.”

“Shut up.” You hide the blush staining across your cheeks with another slice of pizza. 

“You are.”

“Well,” you swallow. “I need you to be a good dad. And if you can’t then I’m not afraid to do it by myself.”

“I know.”

“Good.”

“Can I talk to it?”

“If you want to.” You don’t tell him that the thing growing in your womb curiously of him is the size of a pea and doesn’t have a face, let alone ears. You want to hear what his first words as a dad are.

He rucks your shirt up higher until it’s bunched beneath your breast, stomach on full display for him to bury his face into. 

“Hi. I’m your dad,” he starts timidly. You bite back a smile at his earnestness. “I don’t usually make your mom this angry. Usually, she’s pretty happy with me.” His lips brush your stomach with each word, tickling them into your skin. “I hope you take after her. She’s smart, and she’s pretty. God, she’s so pretty. I remember the first time I saw your mom and I knew I wanted to marry her.”

You snort. “You did not.”

“Yes, I did,” he corrects. “We were at this bar. You’re not allowed to go there. Ever. Maybe when you’re thirty or I’m dead. But I remember seeing her when she walked in and I thought ‘that is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and if she talks to me, I’ll throw up.’ I still feel like that sometimes. Even when she’s mad at me. And then when I got the courage to talk to her, I didn’t throw up because your old man is cool.”

Your heart swells too big for your chest. The night you met him wasn’t the stuff of fairytales. You saw him across the bar, all blonde hair and ruby cheeks as he screamed with his friends. He did throw up the first time you talked to him. After an hour of riding him until it hurt, you melted boneless in his lap and he snuck away to the bathroom to toss the used condom. You faked asleep as he emptied his guts into the toilet bowl before crawling back to bed and begging for cuddles. Pure romance.

“So cool,” you tease.

Soonyoung laces your fingers together, nipping at your fingertips in protest. “Your mom is mean to me but it’s okay because I love her. You’ll love her too. I just hope you’ll love me.”

You fight the urge to cry, only a single tear streaking down your cheek before stopping. “They’ll love you.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so.”

“How?”

“Because I love you and I’m very smart. Remember?”

“I did say that, didn't I?”

You hum in agreement, pulling him up your body to nudge his nose along yours. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You let him shower you in gentle touches, his hands smoothing up your sides. Soonyoung traps you between his body and the counter, his lips sweeping over your chin, your jaw, your covered chest. That’s when you feel it. “What are you doing?”

“Apologizing.”

“Feels a lot like your penis to me.”

“That’s a part of the apology,” he whispers, the weight of his cocky heavy against your thigh, harder with each controlled grind. “Can’t believe I knocked you up and I never even came inside of you.”

“I can. You talk about kids so much I bet you manifested this.”

“You want it though, right?”

“Yeah.”

You’re lifted onto the countertop, legs spread around his hips. He’s got one hand wedge between your ass and panties to keep you close. “Do you think I’ll be a good dad?”

Not the conversation you thought would happen while you’re tugging his shirt off and working at the tie in his pajamas pants but you humor him.

“I think you’ll be a great dad.” You kiss him gently. His lips, his nose, his cheeks that round in your favorite smile. “If you stop getting arrested. How are you gonna ground Michaelangelo if you keep getting in trouble too?”

“She’s gonna be too smart for that. Just like her mom.”

“Oh, it’s a she now?”

“I’ve got a feeling.” He nips at your throat, a sweet flick of his tongue to soothe the sting. “Back to me coming inside you.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Gonna take it all for me?”

Your chin tips back to provide more skin for Soonyoung to mark up. “Want it.”

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he heaves. You’re trapped between a hand against the crotch of your panties and one pawing at your ass like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

“Take your pants off.”

An amused breath warms your throat. “Someone’s bossy”

“Yeah, and I’m telling you to take your pants off.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Shirt gone, sweats pooled around his ankles, Soonyoung stands in nothing but a pair of tenting briefs and the thin chain you gifted him a week after he placed that band on your ring finger.

“Wow, who knew you'd be such a DILF.”

His cheeks tinged pink from the complement. “I’ve been a dad for five minutes and you’re already trying to hit on me.”

“We’re engaged, doofus.”

“Speaking of.” He snatches his pants off the floor, digging through the pockets until a familiar ring appears. “Don’t take this off again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He catches your chin between his fingers, pining you in his gaze. “I don’t care how angry you are with me. When I asked you to marry me, I meant forever.”

You can count on one hand the number of times he’s used that tone of voice with you. Soonyoung doesn't get angry often; at least, not with you. The last time he talked to you like this was when you wandered on the wrong side of town late at night, alone and drunk without a way home. You were pissed about a grade and wanted to do something reckless like every other kid at your university got to. Luckily, Soonyoung found you before trouble could. He used the same tone to chastise you for an hour about how stupid you’d been. 

But he isn’t just mad at your antics. He’s scared too. You look at him — really look at him for the first time since this morning when you kissed him goodbye before work. Red eyes, lip bruised, not from kisses but the way he chews it when he’s anxious.

“I’m sorry.” You pull him back, arms wrapped so tightly around his torso he probably can’t breathe and you both like the certainty of it. The tension in his shoulders softens like candle wax but he doesn’t let go. 

There’s still the matter of damp underwear and his boner. You want him, the gnawing aching way you always want him. Between your legs, stroking your sensitive spots to life over and over again until you beg for mercy he’s too eager to deny.

You nose against his cheek, adoring kiss after kiss against his skin until mouths meet. Soonyoung slips his tongue between the seam of your lips. You feel it the way down to your toes. On instinct, your hand trickles down his front, wedged tight between your bodies to paw at the fabric. A few dry jerks is all it takes for him to unravel.

“Wait,” Soonyoung gasps, hips rutting into the tight squeeze.

He keens with another tug, neck flushing a pretty shade of pink. The linoleum bites into your knees before you mouth over his underwear for a taste of what's to come. You suck the head through his underwear before leaning back to tease him with a kiss.

“Bedroom.”

“Didn’t think I’d see the day you’d refuse a kitchen blowjob,” you snicker.

Soonyoung doesn’t laugh. He pulls you back up into a bruising kiss, biting at your lip until you’re sure it’s bruised. His hand gropes down your ass, fingers tight to your entrance from behind. Whatever he wants like this you’ll agree to.

“Want you on my mouth.”

You’d kneel over his face right here on the kitchen floor if he wanted. But knowing your fiance, his sights are glued to whatever fantasies boil beneath that blond hair of his. 

You race up the stairs, Soonyoung hands heavy on your sides. His thumbs press into the bare curve of your hips. Your clothes fall until just your underwear remains. You want to turn around and mount him on the steps but the second floor landing is close enough you don’t get a chance. 

Soonyoung flicks all the bedroom lights on, eager to see every part of you as you crawl up the bed on all fours in nothing but your underwear. A few years ago you wouldn’t dream of sex with a lamp on let alone the overhead light but years of his utter devotion to your body and wanting to watch you get off like it’s his very own miracle gave you confidence. He looks ready to jump out of his own skin at the doorway. You glance over back and arch your spine a little more, ass higher in the air for his viewing. You might just finger yourself like this to see him suffer. You’ve done it before.

You stretch out, naked chest on display. “Are you coming?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Unconsciously, he palms his cock and approaches the side of the bed, pulling you into a kiss with a heavy lick of his tongue.

It doesn’t take much to drag him on top of you, dick hot to your thigh, perfect to rut against. There’s too much Soonyoung to think of anything else. His hands pinning you in place, his breath fanning across your chest as he suckles across the slope of your breast, thighs surging between yours in a dry hump you can’t help but beg for more of. His hips stutter when you do.

He follows the same playbook you did earlier; fingers trailing to the wet patch of your wants, mouth following closely. You’re in for a treat when he’s on his knees like this. He wants to tease you the way you did him but Soonyoung isn’t committed to denying you anything, he wants to rake you over hot coals by giving too much. 

Your hands eagerly hook beneath your knees, legs spread wide before him like a feast..

“Taste so good,” he rasps with a soft suck at your clit. “You’re so hot.”

Even with the barrier of your underwear each lick lights you on fire. Soonyoung moans a lewd melody, lost in his own paradise. Your thighs twitch with each gentle prod at your entrance, folded away by his shoulders so he can touch as much as he wants.

The promise from earlier lights up your brain. You twist a tight grip in his hair, pulling hard enough to detach him from your body. Lips wet, eyes blown, Soonyoung tries to dive back down until another twist of your nails makes him wince.

“Call Jeonghan.”

His mouth may be gone but his fingers circle your clit in the way that makes you whine. “What?”

“Call. Him,” you command. 

You snatch your phone from the end table, forcing it into Soonyoung’s grasp. He still doesn’t understand what you’ve asked.

“Sell him the bike right now.”

“Now?” He looks down at your pussy still on display, underwear soaked in spit and arousal.

You nod. Soonyoung knows better than to argue. He’s back in your good graces but only just, the promise of shipping that infernal bike off to someone else keeping him afloat. 

Your body throbs for release, for his mouth to go back to work instead of whispering into the phone when Jeonghan answers. 

“Two grand? Bullshit! There's at least…” he trails off.

You’re not going to stop just because he’s busy. You grab your breasts, taunt nipples visible between your fingers. Clad in a pair of sticky panties and nothing else, you’ve reduced him into a stuttering mess. Any other night he’d already be smothering himself in the wetness. You can see the urge in his gaze as he swallows loudly.

“Four,” Soonyoung counters. His face twists between wanting to argue with the neighbor, brows furrowed, lips in a heavy pout, and watch in awe as you suck on your own fingers before pinching at your chest again.

You’ve got him distracted with a hand between your legs, pushing your underwear out of the way to flash him exactly what he’s earning. Flushed and wet, the smell of sex hangs in the air.

“Thirty-five,” his voice cracks as you spread your legs wider, pulling his hand right where it belongs.

Soonyoung bats your hands away, fingers twisting through your heat. A gentle prod at your entrance like he hasn’t mastered your pussy enough to make you stupid and strung out with a few touches. There’s no way Jeonghan can’t hear every pleased sigh, the wet noise echoing from your pussy, the annoyance in Soonyoung’s voice as they barter back and forth. 

Soonyoung leans over and spits where his fingers disappear, making you jolt with the force as he does it again. You nearly ask him to spit in your mouth just to see his eyes bulge but the opportunity disappears with the sound of Jeonghan’s cackle through the line.

“Fine, three. I’ll give you the keys tomorrow.” He ends the call, forces your hand out of the way, and eagerly makes up for the minutes lost.

Both of your hands find the soft strands of his hair to hold him in place. Your feet plant on the bed beside his wide shoulders, allowing you to hump his face pathetically only to be welcomed with a grunt. The rip of fabric registers right before what was once your underwear is left stretched across the middle of your thigh. 

“S-shit, don’t stop.”

His fingers spread for his tongue to lick between. You punish him for such a dirty move with a harsh pull of his hair that he loves more than anything. Soonyoung does what he does best: groveling for your forgiveness. You’ll give it to him like always. But you both want him to work for it; it’s better when he does. 

He spreads your legs wider, gives a pleased grunt when you hold him in place and grind into his mouth. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant; vision blurry, body on fire.

Soonyoung moans into the sloppy mess of your pussy, sucking your clit between his lips, wedging another finger between the two already ruining you. 

“Oh god—there.”

Your thighs crush his head but he forces them up and open, pinned in place. The tender glow of the end escalates into a scalding burn as it rips through every muscle. You clench so tight around his fingers he can’t move them more than a tight curl. When you cry at the overstimulation he finally rests.

“Did you just—”

Pins and needles ripple through your muscles and all you can do is nod. Once the initial shock fades, there’s a smug twitch of his lips. He catches your foot and pins it before you can kick him.

“Shut up.”

“Have I told you how much I think about you being pregnant?” he asks, watching your every move.

You shake your head. His fingers keep working in gentle strokes, the wet noises quieter than before but loud in your ears. 

“It’s a lot,” he grunts. “Fuck, you’re gonna be so sexy.”

“I’m not already?” you half laugh, half gasp. The spark of arousal already demands more so you rock your hips down despite the sensitivity.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“But I’m not sexy?”

“Don’t pick an argument with me right now, please,” Soonyoung begs. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m thinking about coming in you until you can’t take anymore.”

“Then I’ll be sexy?” you goad.

“You’ve always been sexy.” He punctuates the compliment with a kiss to your left hip bone. “Beautiful.” Another on your right. “Gorgeous.” One on the plush of your thigh. “I love you.”

He folds you in half, knees to chest like you possess the flexibility to stay there, ankles cuffed in his hand, lips hot on the back of your thigh. 

“We should fuck on the bike one more time,” you tease. 

“You want me to defile the mother of my child on a motorcycle?”

You moan at his words. You want him to come wherever he wants, as many times as he can. Until he can’t anymore. To feel nasty and used however he sees fit. You want him on top of you, behind you, bending you over every surface he can until you’re shaking.

“You’re about to defile me right here. W-what’s the difference?”

Soonyoung curls the fingers inside you tight, eyes glued to the way you heave before answering. He fucks into that spot that makes you his puppet and all you want is to ruin him the same way he ruins you with the slightest touch. “You said I should stop doing things that’ll get me arrested.”

You choke on another tease as he sucks on your clit, tongue coaxing pathetic sighs right out of your lungs. He could do this all night. He’d be happy to. Soonyoung grips you tighter as you squirm away. It’s too much. He knows it and that’s why he loves it so much, knowing he can make you cum hard enough to scream.

“Are the cameras still broken at the garage?”

“Yeah,” he grunts, already knowing exactly what you’re thinking.

“Then you can defile me at your place of business, over the bike. Just like old times.”

“No condoms.”

“How else are you gonna stuff me full of cum?”

Soonyoung groans, pushing your legs wider as his hips rut into the mattress. “Wanna come inside you.”

“Then get up here and do it.”

You’re soaked between the legs, sensitive and swollen. Soonyoung settles into the warm cradle of your thighs easily, pressing his cock into the wet mess of spit and arousal. Your body acts of instinct, hips tilting until he slips between your walls.

“Oh my god.” He laps at the swell of your breast. “‘S okay?”

“Yeah, they don’t hurt yet.”

The sharp edge of his teeth leaves lines across your skin while he sucks at your chest until your spine breaks in half. His fingers keep firm pressure against your clit. Sloppy but enough to keep you pulled taunt. You’ll come a second time if he keeps it up.

“Oh my god,” you echo. 

Soonyoung likes to fuck hard. Hard enough you feel like all your seams are splitting, just shy of shattering your limit. Now’s no different but there's a new edge of caution. Even with his hips flat, inside you until nothing is left to give, he tangles your fingers together and pins them over head in the pillows.

You push your body against his, needy and pliant. Blind want acting as a guide, your ankles lock around his waist. It feels so much better than all the other times he’s fucked you like this; knowing the risk of him coming inside no longer counts and he can do it as many times as you ask. 

The slap of your skin against his fills the room, grunts and pathetic whines passing between mouths with narrowed vision. Nails biting into his shoulders, you flutter tight, trying to pull Soonyoung deeper even if he’s snug to the hilt. Stretched full beyond belief.

“More,” you beg. Frantic. Needy. All those feelings Soonyoung can incite with the barest of touches and a look.

He rises back on his hands, lighting up with each pathetic whimper of his name. “More what?”

If you had the brain power you’d knock the stupid smirk off his face. “Fuck me.”

“I am,” Soonyoung taunts.

“Breed me.”

“Already h-have.” Soonyoung looks like he wants to laugh but he sinks as much weight as he can into his hips, rhythm clumsy but it’s so good you don’t care. “Fuck, such a good girl. Aren’t you?”

You clench around him. He isn’t the most inspired with dirty talk but he knows your buttons, loves to press on your praise kink when you least expect it. 

“Say it.”

“I-I’m,” you stutter from his fingers finding your raw clit. “I’m your good girl.”

“My pretty little wife,” Soonyoung gasps. “Perfect.”

Every bit of praise adds a drop in the bucket, chest tightening until it explodes without permission; shredding through your veins. Your teeth sink into his shoulder. Hard enough to bruise as you cry, “Soonyoung.”

He doesn’t stop for your orgasm, not for a second. You asked him to breed you and it’s his sole purpose until you’re both satisfied. “G-gonna come.”

“Want it, want you to come in me,” you sob.

Soonyoung grabs for your hair, a gentle tug with enough force your eyes open to find his.

“Want it?” he pants, tilting your hips to fuck deeper. You nod with limited room thanks to his grip. “Then take it.”

The sticky heat you’re accustomed to on your skin stains your insides for the first time. There’s no way you can go back. Not after knowing how right it feels to have him fill you. You shiver beneath his weight, nerves twitching from the idea of him doing it again. Immediately.

“Love you, love you, love you…” Soonyoung chants into your skin, lips slipping over your throat with each breathless gasp.

You roll down into the nasty feel of cum and cock, the minor relief not nearly enough. Not with the idea of sucking the combined taste off him rearing its head. But Soonyoung collapses with a point flex of his thighs to stop your motions.

“Holy fuck,” he shudders. “If you let me do that sooner, we’d have ten kids by now.”

You’re flustered at the idea. “Do you think my vagina is a baby rocket launcher?”

“It’s definitely something.”

“How romantic,” you snort. “Give it a few months and I’ll be so hormonal you won’t touch me with a ten foot pole.”

“Is that what you think?” he hums, face still hidden in your neck like he’s too exhausted to move except to lap at the dip in your throat. A subtle grind reminds you of his cock still wedge in your guts, stiff like he didn’t come hard enough to see stars.

It’s hard to think that after so many years together, this is the biggest love rush you’ve ever experienced. The urge to keep him wrapped in your arms for as long as possible brings tears to your eyes. 

Soonyoung pops over your face after the first sniffle, terrified. “Are you crying?”

“No.” You swipe at the tears. “Shut up.”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, failing to hide his amusement.  

“I’m carrying your child, sorry my hormones are all over the place.” You bat his hand away unsuccessfully, leaning your cheek into the comforting warmth of his palm.  “We’re ready for this?”

“I mean, I was planning to knock you up on our honeymoon anyway,” he shrugs, lips soft on your hairline. “Do you have any more of those tests?”

“Why?”

“I wanna see what’d happen if I pee on one.”

“Nothing.” You push him off, rolling onto hands and knees with your ass in the air, face buried in the pillows. “Now, fuck me again.”

Soonyoung pushes the head of his cock through the mess of cum leaking out before sinking back inside with a grunt. “Yes, ma’am.”

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[straylightdream]

pretty in pink - ♡

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: kwon soonyoung x afb.reader

who knew walking around without a bra on would drive your roommate insane.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞(𝐬): romance, porn without plot, smut, a rom/com if you will.

𝐚𝐮(𝐬): roommate au

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.8k

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, mc is body positive, so much banter

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex (mc is on the pill), they get kind of rough, dirty talk, creampie, soft dom Soonyoung, Soonyoung has a panty kink, oral both rec, 69, face sitting, p in v intercourse, boob/nipple play, Soonyoung is obsessed with the mc boobs, spanking (mc gets spanked once or twice) nicknames: baby (hers)baby, tiger boy (his)

𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ nsfw

🎧: guess - charli xcx & billie eilish |

𝐚𝐧: a fun raunchy story for our favorite tiger boy Soonyoung’s birthday. Thank you @aeristudios for listening to me ramble about this one. Thank you @supi-wupi for beta reading.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

Living with Soonyoung is a wild card. Some days it’s calm and he’s quiet. Other days he goes and says the most unhinged things.

You’ve been roommates for three years. You met through a mutual friend and instantly became close. When both of you were looking for somewhere to live, getting an apartment together just made sense. Sunday mornings are your favorite. You both have the day of, so you spend the day hanging out. Most Sundays you wake up early to enjoy a solo cup of coffee before Soonyoung is up.

“You know sometimes I think you were put onto this earth to make me suffer.” That’s a wild statement for Soonyoung to say at seven in the morning. You’re just standing in the kitchen innocently drinking your coffee, still just dressed in your pajamas.

Glancing up from your coffee you knit your brows together. What on earth is Soonyoung talking about? “What the fuck did I do to you?”

“I know you’re body positive and you aren’t a fan of wearing a bra. That’s fine, but normally when you aren’t wearing a bra you’re in a baggy shirt—“ Looking down you realize that you’re wearing a tank top that does barely anything to cover your breast. Your tiny sleep shorts aren’t really helping either. Your nipples are fully visible through your shirt. This man has no room to talk, he’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants that are set low on his hips. You can literally see the veins leading down to cock.

“Are my boobs distracting?” You take another sip of your coffee.

“Bro it’s seven in the damn morning and my fucking roommate has me hard.” You and Soonyoung are very blunt when it comes to talking about your sex lives. Him complaining about something getting him hard isn’t new. What is new is him complaining that you are the reason he’s hard.

“Did you seriously call me bro, while complaining about my boobs?” Sitting your coffee down on the counter. This conversation is insane. Soonyoung has always been kind of crazy, but this is a different level.

He rolls his eyes dramatically. “Can we just make a rule if you’re going to walk around not wearing a bra you warn me. I would really prefer to not have jack off at random hours of the day.”

“You know if you want to see them you can?” If he’s being dramatic you might as well tease him and have some fun. You start messing with the strap or your tank top.

“I just can’t see your tits and just walk away and pretend I’m fine.”

“You wouldn’t have to walk away.”

His big doe eyes go wide at the realization of your statement. “Excuse me?”

“Soonyoung will it help if I let you see my boobs, and then if you’re nice to me— maybe I could blow you and help you out.”

“Are you being serious?” He can’t even hide how shocked he sounds.

“I mean, yes—“ the words barely leave your mouth. He strides across the kitchen and crashes his lips into yours for a heat kiss. His finger tangled in your hair holding you close to him. Your chest is pressed against him. This kiss is anything but subtle; his tongue rubs against yours as your lips move together. This is a kind of kiss that is lust filled. He’s kissing you like he needs you to breathe.

Pulling away he gives you each a moment to catch your breath. Reaching up he takes your breast in his hand. His thumb brushes your nipple over your shirt. “You drive me so fucking crazy.”

“Maybe we should go to one of our rooms.”

He tilts his head to the side. There is no way this isn’t some wet dream or something. He’s terrified he’s going to wake up.

Grabbing your hand he drags you off to his room before he can say something stupid. Slamming his door shut he wasted no time practically ripping off your shirt. Standing in front of him in nothing but your sleep shorts.

“My god your tits are even better than I imagined.” He groans. “Lay on the bed and take off your shorts.”

Pulling off your shorts you’re left in a tiny pink thong. Hooking your fingers into the sides you stop when he says your name.

“Keep your thong on.” Of course he has a panty kink.

Crawling into the bed you spread your legs. You’ve never seen him move quicker in his life to strip down naked. The sight of him is absolutely mouth watering.

“Any hard nos?” He puts one knee on the bed and pauses. You’ve definitely heard Soonyoung have sex before. It turns out your two bedroom apartment that you spend way too much money on has thin walls. Nothing on the other side of the wall sounded too crazy.

“Like nothing gross and don’t degrade me. What about you?”

“Anything you want to try, I would be down.” He crawls across the bed towards you. “Can we keep your thong on?”

He sits on his knees between your spread legs. “Do you have a panty kink?” His hand rubs your thigh.

“No— I’ve just seen you bend over so many times and flash me your ass. It’s taken every thing in me not to bend you over and pull it to the side and fuck you right there.”

This whole situation doesn’t feel real. You’ve been pining after your roommate since you moved in together all those years ago.

“If you want to suck my cock, can you sit in my face while you do it.”

Sitting up you tap the bed next to you. God how is he still so adorable and so sexy at the same time? “Lay down tiger boy.”

He finds his place in the middle of the bed. He helps move your body so your wet core is hovering over his face. His straining cock is curved up towards you. You’ve never been a huge fan of sucking dick, but you can’t wait to taste him. He wraps his arms around your thighs pulling your pussy down to his face. You start stroking his length slowly.

Leaning down your start licking the rosy colored tip that’s already leaking precum. Sliding your mouth down his cock you take him as far as he can go before he brushes the back of your throat. The vein that runs the underside of his shaft is brushing against your tongue.

The moment he starts sucking your clit you can help but moan his name. Well it’s safe to say eating pussy is another thing Soonyoung can say he’s good at. The room is filled with moans and wet sounds. You hope he likes his head messy, his cock is coated in a mix of your spit and his precum.

His nose keeps brushing your clit applying the perfect amount of pressure. He has you seeing stars. At this rate you’re going to fall apart on his tongue with little effort.

Pulling your mouth off him, you pump his length over and over. You can’t help but moan.

“I’m close—“ your words are a high pitch whine.

Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave. Your vision blurs as your slump forwards. He keeps licking your clit as you ride out your high.

He smacks your ass and grips the flesh massaging it. “On your side baby.”

“I’m not done.” You planned on blowing him until he was begging you to stop.

“I’m not cumming in your mouth. Like I said, on your side.”

Laying on your side he’s straddling one of your legs while he is holding up your other leg. Taking his straining length in his hand he runs it through your wet folds. Tapping your clit he earns a moan from you.

“Should I get a condom?” You were so drunk on the idea of Soonyoung fucking you, the thought of a condom slipped your mind.

“Soon—“

“Is my baby eager for my cock?”

“Please—“ you’ve never been one to beg but you’ll beg for him.

Slowly inch by inch he thrust into you. He squeezes his eyes shut trying to stay calm. “Fuck your tight—“ he groans.

Rolling your head back, you moan his name. He pushes his hips into yours at a quick and firm pace. He’s fucking you at a rough pace and your brain feels like mush. Moaning his name like you’re in heat. Reaching forward he grips your breast. His fingers toy with your nipple.

“New rule, no tops allowed in the house.” He moans. If Soonyoung chose to walk around naked you wouldn’t ever complain. He’s got the body of a Greek god.

You’re hit with the sudden realization that things are going to change. There is no way this could just be a fun friends with benefits situation. Sure you could try it out, but you already have a crush on your roommate. And to be quite honest it would take little effort for him to make you fall in love with him.

Closing yours you have pushed away the thoughts that are suddenly consuming you like a parasite.

“Fuck—“ you moan.

“Baby I’m close.” He snapping his hips into yours at a rough pace. His grip on your breast hasn’t stopped. The way he’s toying with your nipples you know you’ll be sore tomorrow.

Reaching down you brush your fingers over your sensitive clit. Biting your bottom lip you hold back moaning as much as you can. If your walls are thin between your rooms, you definitely don’t need your neighbors to know that Soonyoung is fucking the living daylights out of you.

Your second orgasm makes you feel like you’re going to black out. Your body feels numb as every nerve feels like it’s on fire. This is the best sex of your life. How are you ever supposed to sleep with another man after this.

“Baby, where can I finish?” You’re hit with the realization that neither of you remembered a condom.

“Inside, I’m clean and on the pill.”

“I’m clean too.” He groans in response.

His hand leaves your breast and grips your hips for leverage as he snaps his hips into your

He moans your name like a sinful prayer as he finds his own release. He paints your walls with his milk release. Dropping your leg, he’s still snug inside you. He leans so he is practically laying on top of you. He presses a bunch of gentle kisses across your skin anywhere he can reach. He’s acting the polar opposite of how he was just fucking you.

Running your fingers through his hair you can’t help but smile in your dazed post sex bliss.

“God I like you so much,” he mumbles between kisses.

“I like you too.” You whisper back.

If you have asked to be tagged I request that you please reblog. If you could leave comments and or tags that would be greatly appreciated.

[sailorsoons]

Baby (k.sy)

PAIRING: Soongyoung x f. reader

SUMMARY: Soonyoung had been in your life for as long as you can remember. You haven’t spoken since your wedding to someone who isn’t him, but when you uncover your husband’s plans to turn against your family, you don’t know who else to call.  

WC: 29,988

AU: Mafiaverse, Cyberpunk, Childhood Friends/Exes to Lovers

GENRE: Smut, Heavy Angst

RATING: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

WARINGS: Full warnings available under the cut.

A/N: This fic was posted on my original blog which has been deleted. I am now reposting it. I hope it does half as well as it did when I originally posted this story - thank you to everyone who left amazing feedback the first time. It genuinely made me so happy and I am so sorry that it got sent to the moon where I can no longer read it.

A/N 2:  Thank you @daechwitatamic and @eoieopda for beta-reading this fic.

MASTERLIST | FULL COLLECTION | ASK | PLAYLIST | NEXT | MOODBOARD

Warnings: Graphic violence generally associated with mafia behavior, mentions of murder and blood, morally grey characters, themes of codependency (a little bit), a bit of a toxic relationship with Soonyoung and reader at times (they like to make each other jealous), bar fights, women being very petty, recreational drinking and drug use, heavy angst, depictions of death (funerals for parents), fight scene that ends in death in a domestic situation, difficult relationships with parents, reader and her husband have a terrible relationship and hate each other, depictions of blood and stabbing in one scene (it is the most graphic scene in the whole fic but kept short), reader agonizes over decisions she's made and struggles mentally with a lot of it, depiction of a full blown anxiety attack, sexually explicit content including fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, crying during sex, a lot of making out and biting, multiple orgasms... sorry this is so long, I want to over-warn for everything happening here so if I have missed something you think needs to be warned, please tell me!

KWON SOONYOUNG IS CRYING THE FIRST TIME YOU MEET HIM. It’s a loud, warbling cry that you’re not used to, and you flinch at the pitch as you hide behind your mother. Soonyoung and his mother are standing in the grand foyer of your home, his fists twisted in her tweed skirt as he begs her not to leave him. 

His mother sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. You’ve seen her around before on the arm of her husband at your family dinner parties and for afternoon tea with your mom. This is the first time you’ve seen Soonyoung, though, and you’re unimpressed as his shrieking only gets louder when she crouches down to look him in the eye fondly, brushing the tears from his face. 

You don’t know a lot of other kids, but the noisiness of him startles you. Unsettles you. Sensing your unease, your mother reaches to pull you from behind her, giving you a single look that you know means please behave. You straighten immediately, turning to watch the sniffling boy as he calms down. 

Soonyoung is round-cheeked, his dark eyes swollen and face reddened from working himself up. His mother murmurs something to him and he nods, wiping the snot from his face with the back of his hand.

Seungcheol must notice the crying has stopped. He appears from the kitchen, giving Soonyoung an unimpressed once over as he strides toward you and your mother. She clucks her tongue at the cheek of her eleven year old, giving him a hard look. 

“Seungcheol, don’t be rude,” she admonishes. “Greet our guests properly.” 

Your older brother glances at you and you lift a shoulder. He’s going to lead the family one day, it’s important for him to show manners. You know this even at a young age - have always known what his place is among your family, what your place is. 

Cheol is in line to become the Tower of the Choi Syndicate, an empire that you cannot fathom at your age but you know is important. You are its insurance, a second heir if something happens to the first and a bargaining chip for future partnerships. A potential logician, if you’re good enough. 

Turning to Soonyoung and his mother, Seungcheol bows politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Soonyoung. Are you here to play video games?” 

Soonyoung perks up at that, looking at his mom, eyes going round. She grins and nods her head, pulling her hands from where they rest on his shoulders. “He is,” she agrees. “We thought it might be good for you to become friends.” Her gaze drifts to you. “All three of you.” 

That makes you frown. You don’t really like playing video games. Seungcheol never lets you win and forces you to play for hours in exchange for him letting you borrow his AetherLink at night to scroll the internet. You’re not allowed to have one yet, even though you’re only four years younger and all of your other friends have them to enter virtual chat rooms and play online games.  

“Do I have to?” you ask your mom, looking up at her. 

“Yes,” she says firmly, gently nudging you by the shoulder toward where your brother is not so patiently waiting to escort you to the gaming room. “Go.” 

“Why don’t you want to play?” Soonyoung asks, pouting a little.

“I’m not any good.”

“That’s okay. I’ll let you beat me.” 

Seungcheol moans. “Ugh, don’t let her win. Come on. I got the new Grid Fighters game on the Reality Rift console!” 

“No way!” 

Seungcheol grins and shoots off toward the gaming room, Soonyoung hot on his heels. You hesitate for a moment, staring after them with indignation. Soonyoung stops at the doorway, turning to you. His face is still ruddy from crying, but he’s suddenly smiling, cheeks round and smooth.

“Come on,” he whispers. “I’ll let you win, I promise.” 

“Holy fuck, can you let me win for once?” Soonyoung groans, rolling over on the mat. He’s dripping in sweat, wiping it away from his brow as he stands with effort. 

Grinning, you skip away from him, reaching for your water bottle. Music pounds through the speakers of the training room. Overhead, the blue neon casts an eerie glow over the two of you. Seungcheol ignores you both in favor of using the weight machines in the far corner of the room. 

On the far wall, your health and fitness data is displayed, each one of your bodies outlined and flashing as new data comes in. Right now, you’re in the red zone, heart pounding hard from your bout with Soonyoung, who is in the orange zone. 

Which confirms your suspicion that he’s not trying as hard as he could be. 

“Maybe if you weren’t afraid to actually hit me,” you offer. The water helps cool you down as you eye Soonyoung. Even at fourteen, he’s started to fill out his form more, arms corded as he hones himself into a weapon. “You’re not going to hurt me.”

Seungcheol scoffs from across the room. Maybe he wasn’t totally ignoring the two of you. He drops his cool-older-kid act to turn and grumble, “He’d put you on your ass, Baby. Lucky for you, he always lets you win.” 

The nickname makes you bristle. You hate when people point out that you’re the baby of the family, like you’re something less than or incapable of keeping pace. You especially hate it when Seungcheol uses it to put you in your place, reminding you that one day your shithead older brother is going to be leading the family business. 

The family business is the reason you spar with them at all. Occasionally Vernon joins, though those days are as unpredictable as his appearances. Usually when he’s over at your house, it’s never a good thing. His arrivals are always bracketed with the sound of his father’s manic yelling and his mother’s frantic begging, followed closely by slammed doors and your father’s calming voice. 

Today it’s just the three of you, though. Soonyoung comes over and sits on the mat by your feet, holding a hand up to you. You pass him your water bottle, rolling your eyes at him even though it doesn’t really bother you. 

Nothing Soonyoung does really bothers you. Since that first day he showed up at your house sobbing because his mother was leaving him for the day, he’s grown on you. More than grown on you, in fact. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t noticed your lingering gazes and the way he flusters you when he gets too close, and you hope to keep it that way. 

“I don’t want to hit you,” Soonyoung offers gently, voice low over the metal clang of Seuncheol’s weights. “And it’s not ‘cause I don’t think you can’t take it,” he adds with a grin, bumping his shoulder against your leg. “I just don’t like the idea of you getting hurt.” 

“Everyone treats me like a baby.” 

“You are. But it’s not a bad thing. For example, you say jump and everyone says how high. Even my dad.” 

That makes you smirk a little. You look at the floor, letting his words wash over you. They do ring true - there’s no one in the Syndicate who would deny you anything, and though you’re utterly terrified of Soonyoung’s dad, he would do anything for you. In a way, it was the Kwon family’s divine purpose to be by the side of the Chois. 

“What about you?” you ask. 

“What about me?” 

“Jump.”

Soonyoung grins and sets the water bottle down, getting up to his feet at your command. “How high, Baby?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t shed a tear on the day of his parents’ funeral. He’s a far cry from the little boy who showed up at your house to play video games and become friends. 

Instead, he sits in silence, eyes raging - always raging, now. You don’t think the fury stops, his gaze burning the entire ceremony. His grip on your hand is like iron, and after a while, your arm tingles with pins and needles. You say nothing, willing to endure. Eventually, your arm goes numb entirely, and he keeps holding your hand. 

Afterward, Soonyoung says nothing. You do the talking for him, accepting the hand shakes and bows on his behalf when he doesn’t reach out to accept them, thanking those who have come to offer him condolences and respect when he doesn’t speak.

His grip on you is steadfast. Iron and fire. Even when your father drops his gaze down with a look of disapproval, Soonyoung doesn’t let go and you don’t ask him to. If there’s any day that you can break decorum and tradition, it’s certainly now in the wake of Soonyoung’s loss. 

They don’t need to know you’d let him hold you anyway.  

The boy who existed before the murder of his parents is dead. You knew it before the funeral. But when the last guest finally leaves the Choi Estate and Soonyoung doesn’t shed a tear, you realize it isn’t just his parents that you’ve buried. 

The sweet, gentle boy who had cried those tears for fear of his mother leaving him has died too. And you don’t think you’ll ever see him again. 

-

“You want me to do what?” Soonyoung asks, pulling you into his room and looking out the cracked door to make sure no one else is around. “Where is your brother?” 

“I have no idea.” 

“You can’t just- ” Soonyoung fumbles for words as he shuts the door and takes a few steps past you into his room proper. It’s dark, safe for the glow of his AetherLink glowing with a paused video game. “Did he see you follow me up here?” 

“Why are you being weird? I’m in here all the time. You live here.” 

“I’m being weird? You just asked me to kiss you. Neither your brother nor your dad want you in my room in the middle of the night.” 

You frown. “Since when? Look, I’m sixteen and I’ve never been kissed, and Lin just lost her virginity to Jeonghan. What happened to when I say jump you say how high?”

“Oh don’t start with me. Who cares if Lin is giving it up to Jeonghan. She blew Wonwoo like two weeks ago. It’s not a competition.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, caving in on yourself a little. Maybe it was a stupid idea to ask Soonyoung after all. But you can’t get over the way all of the other girls were clinging to Lin’s every word as she spilled the details of sleeping with Jeonghan. Everyone else in your friends group had at least made out with boys - you had nothing. 

Being the daughter of the leader of the Choi Syndicate has its benefits. Being accessible to do things like kissing boys and going out with your friends to new cool clubs like Echo Space and Hyper Vibe were not one of them. Getting any of the boys your age to even look you in the eye was impossible, the fear of catching the wrath of Seungcheol and your father looming over them like the Sword of Damocles. 

Soonyoung is Soonyoung, though. Your father has brought him into the fold like one of his own, keeping his oath to Soonyoung’s parents to always watch over him and protect him. You’re old enough now to understand that the bonds between higher members of the Syndicate are bonds of faith and blood, of family and something more. 

If anyone shouldn’t be afraid to kiss you, it’s Soonyoung. He lives down the hall from you, and he’s best friends with your brother. It wouldn’t be that weird. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you lay awake in your bed at night while you stared at the ceiling, fingers trailing your lips. 

Now, you’re not so sure. The way Soonyoung recoils makes you realize you hadn’t thought of the single most important thing before marching in here and asking him to be your first kiss: maybe Soonyoung didn’t want to kiss you. 

It hadn’t even crossed your mind - one of the many downsides to getting mostly everything you wanted. You’re so infrequently told no that in the light of rejection, you don’t know what to do, recoiling like you’ve been mortally wounded. 

Nodding your head, you turn away from Soonyoung, throat tightening as the new wave of emotions threatens to spill over. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” 

“Baby,” he sighs. You ignore him, bolting for the door. Soonyoung is fast, though. He snatches your arm and drags you back toward him, though you turn your face away from him to hide the evidence of oncoming tears. “Don’t be like that.” 

“I’m not being like anything. It was a stupid favor to ask.” 

“Would you look at me?”

“No.”

He sighs heavily. “Why are you being so difficult?”

Trying to wrench your arm from his hold is useless. He’s not hurting you, but the grip on your bicep is firm. “Well if I’m so difficult then let me go.”

“Baby.” The frustration in his voice is evident. You ignore the way your nickname rolls off his tongue, the way he’s the only person you don’t absolutely hate the name from. 

“Just let me go!” 

“No. Why do you want me to kiss you?”

The question is like nails against chalkboard now, your embarrassment peaking. “Forget I even asked, just let me go!” 

“Fuck - are you crying?”

“No.”

“Baby, look at me.”

Too afraid that the wavering in your voice will give you away, you shake your head, refusing to turn and face him. With a growl, he gives a sharp tug on your arm, spinning you toward him. You let out a noise of protest, ready to lash out at him again when you feel his mouth on yours. 

Startled, you don’t do anything at first. Soonyoung’s grip is still on your bicep, firm and steadfast. Your eyes blink for a second before they flutter closed, unsure exactly what to do beyond lean into him a little, pressing your lips firmer to his. 

It’s somehow exactly what you expected and totally unexpected at the same time. Soonyoung’s mouth is softer than you were ready for, slotted gently against yours. He’s warm and smells like vanilla and sandalwood, a scent you’ve grown familiar with. Your thoughts peter out, enjoying the way he holds you to him, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. 

When Soonyoung pulls away, you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, your breath shaky. He doesn’t pull back very far, looking down at you with a dark gaze. This close, you can see the real Soonyoung. His expression is soft, eyes sparkling in the blue light of his room. He looks so young suddenly, all of the rage and wrath that lurks under the surface of the calm mask he wears gone for just a moment. 

“You have pretty eyes,” you whisper. His mouth twitches at the corner, an almost smile. “I’ve always thought you had beautiful eyes.” 

He opens and closes his mouth again, trying to find words. You wait him out, heart thudding. He’s still holding you close to him, fingers digging desperately into your arm. 

Footsteps thundering up the stairs wake him from his daze, Seungcheol calling your name. Soonyoung drops his hand and steps away from you, a cool mask of calm sliding into place, the vulnerability gone in an instant. “There’s your kiss,” he murmurs. “Is there anything else you need from me or do I need to jump too?” 

Synth pulses through you, vibrating your very bones as you lounge on the velvet couch in a private section of the club. The lights above you are hazy, but you can make out the shapes of holographic dancers, their graphics so high definition that you can see the sweat beading down their bare backs. 

From the VIP section, you have the perfect view of the DJ platform. Screens flash behind it, holographic wonders of creatures and places and visuals flashing brightly. Writhing bodies twist on the dancefloor around the DJ like a pit of snakes. Among them, you know your father’s Taps slither among the crowd, pushing drugs and psychedelics into the hands of those who can afford it. 

A trained eye can spot a Tap well enough. Though they blend in with the nylon and leather of the partiers, they tend to be sharp eyed and lucid, chewing on stim pops or some other substance to keep them awake and alert. 

It’s not the drug dealers in the crowd who keep drawing your attention, though. You shouldn’t be able to spot Soonyoung in the mass of bodies so easily, but you do. His hair is bleached, reflecting the flashing lights around him as he presses in close to the girl attached to him, hips swaying.

Your mouth sours. Leaning forward you snatch one of the bottles from the ice bucket and pour a shot into a crystal glass. Angel raises her brows as you slide the glass over to her and pour another for yourself. She’s not much of a drinker, but she takes the glass wordlessly, sensing your need to have a partner in crime.

Knocking it back, you hiss as the liquor burns all the way back. Even the high grade alcohol is like fire, washing away your irritation for a dizzy moment, veins buzzing. Leaning back, your eyes scan the crowd and settle on Soonyoung again. This time, he’s leading his partner through the crowd and toward the stairs. The stairs that lead to you. 

Seungcheol and Wonwoo crashing onto the seat next to you breaks your concentration. Seungcheol’s pupils are wide as saucers, eyes trailing upward to dance at the visual of a woman with pink skin sliding out of her top. 

Next to him, Wonwoo pulls a small bag with glittering dust from his pocket, shaking it to settle all of the contents at the bottom before unsealing the top. The way the powder glows against the lights tells you its high quality frostbyte, a powerful stimulant named for the biting feeling when inhaled. 

Instead of yelling over the music, you gesture toward the bag, catching Wonwoo’s attention. He gives you a surprised look followed by a wolfish grin. Wonwoo loves when you partake in partying harder, a side everyone so rarely sees from you. 

Sliding a knife from his pocket, you watch with rapt attention as Wonwoo dips it into the baggie, scooping delicately. You’d rather he cut lines on the table, but you’ll take what you can get, watching as he expertly fishes out a decent sized amount for you to take. 

You’re mutely aware that a group of bodies enters your section. Vernon throws himself down next to Angel, jostling you both as you lean over Seungcheol’s half-asleep form toward where Wonwoo extends the knife toward you carefully. You ignore the weight of Soonyoung’s eyes on you as he, Mingyu and a group of girls sit down and reach to fill their glasses with liquor. 

Wonwoo’s hands are steady as he holds the tip of his blade out to you, a hand held underneath to catch any powder that slips off the blade. Careful not to lose your balance and stab yourself, you level your face with the knife, inhaling sharply. 

Immediately the drug bites the back of your throat, eyes watering as you tilt your head upwards and blink for a second, letting it settle. Sniffing harshly a few times, you clear your nasal passage and blow out a breath, feeling the softest beginning of a tingle as you look at Wonwoo, who is still holding his hands out to you. 

“Thanks,” you nod. He grins and pulls back, rubbing the excess powder along his gums as you fall heavily against the back of the booth. 

Turning to look at your brother, you elbow him. “Are you alive?”

“Mhmm,” he grunts, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. Lights dance across his face, all pinks and blues and purples as he breathes in heavily. “I am fucked right now. Can you get me a stim pop from Hoshi? If I do anymore frostbyte I’m gonna get a nosebleed. Again.” 

Actually, asking Soonyoung for anything is the last thing you want to do. However, your brother does look like he needs to wake up, the mess of drugs and alcohol in his system working overtime to put him on his ass. Stim pops are a quick fix, a careful mix of sweet candy and methylphenidate to wake up the nervous system. Soongyoung always has them on his person, especially for when he works late night shifts. 

Turning in the booth, you’re smacked with a wave of color. For a moment, you drink it in, tilting your head upward as the figures dancing above explode into a world of lavender butterflies. They’re utterly captivating, your eyes watching them twist and dance in the air as they flutter. 

A laugh bubbles from your lips, entirely childlike. Grinning, you watch them for a few moments more before they disintegrate into stars, entire solar systems hovering and floating through the space above your head.

Seungcheol elbowing you breaks you from your concentration. Right. Stim pop. From Soonyoung. Glancing at the man in question makes your stomach plummet. Soonyoung’s head is resting against the back of the booth, the girl next to him draped over him with her mouth pressed hot to his throat, her teeth overly white in the blacklight of the club. 

A surge of rage shivers through you, your nails scratching across the green velvet, leaving marks in their wake. Leaning forward, you reach out a hand and smack Vernon’s knee to get his attention. He turns his lazy gaze on you, brows raised. When you point at Soonyoung, he nods and yells over his shoulder to get your target’s attention.

Soonyoung’s eyes flutter open and flick to where you’re sitting. He drinks in your expression before muttering something to the woman mouthing at his neck and peels her off, standing up and shuffling over to you. Angel makes room for him, all but sliding into Vernon’s lap as Soonyoung crashes down on the couch next to you. 

“Hi, Baby. What’s up?” 

“Cheol needs a stim pop,” you answer curtly, leaning away from him. He smells like vanilla and sandalwood laced with alcohol. Soonyoung is so close you can feel his body heat, his breath fanning across your bare shoulder as he moves to look at Seungcheol half asleep on your other side. “Then you can go back to your little public sex session.” 

Soonyoung makes an angry cat noise, narrowing his eyes at you as he smirks. He leans toward you further to reach into his pocket, shoulder pressed against you. His scent fills your nose, heady and familiar. You’re dizzy with it, the touch of his warmth against your skin making you flush.

Suddenly, his nearness is overwhelming. Every hair on the back of your neck stands on end, your skin hypersensitive to the way he leans against you. The glow of the lights is sharper than you remember, and you swear you feel the blood rushing through your body.

A response that could be either because of the drugs you inhaled a moment ago or because Soonyoung is pressed against you and you have the sudden urge to lean into him, to feel his warmth, to press your lips against his and feel their softness. 

In an attempt to save yourself from the trap, you shove back at him. He huffs, glaring at you as he fishes a stim pop out of his pocket and hands it over to you. You’re careful to avoid his touch when you snatch it from his nimble fingers, turning your back on him in the booth to look at Seungcheol.

“Why are you being a brat?” His voice is loud over the music, shouted into your ear as he tilts back into your space again. You can feel the warmth of him on your back. 

“Go away.”

“Baby, please don’t start with me.”

“I’m not starting fuck with you.” 

Seungcheol cracks an eye open to observe your argument with a look of interest. Seungcheol’s pupils are dilated like moons, totally empty of any coherent thought. You peel the wrapper off the stim pop, careful to hold it by the cardboard stick as you pop it into your brother’s mouth. 

For a few moments, your brother lolls the candy around his mouth, sucking greedily. Then, he blinks his eyes open, pupils narrowing as he drinks in the lights and the clubs. He sighs in relief, patting your thigh gratefully as the stimulant chases away whatever else is washing him out.

When you turn around, Soonyoung is still lingering, his dark eyes fierce and focused only on you. He looks good tonight. He looks good every night. He has become your picture perfect torture since that night you asked him to be your first kiss, kickstarting something you were incapable of foreseeing. 

The bleached hair is new and you hate how much you like it. The silvery strands look just as soft as his natural black, and it’s a nice contrast to his dark eyes and sharp cheekbones. Those stormy eyes are staring at you now, something playful that you don’t like glittering under the surface. 

He pouts at you. “Why are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you. Go away!”

“You definitely are. What did I do, hmm? Tell me.” 

“Please fuck off.” 

He rolls his eyes, peeling himself off the couch and muttering something under his breath. You’re sure he has nothing nice to say, so you sink further into the couch, crossing your hands over your chest as you sulk. 

Sticky air clings to your skin. You can feel your heart racing in your chest, the music vibrating your ribcage. Your anger is like a monster given life, fueled by the frostbyte and the feverish anger taking root in your stomach as Soonyoung settles back in his spot, pressing his mouth sloppily to the woman next to him. 

And that’s the problem, really. It’s not you that is pressing your mouth to his jaw while he leans against the back of the seat. It isn’t you running manicured nails down the front of his shirts, pulling at buttons despite the audience. 

It isn’t you and it should be. You want it to be.

It’s been two years since Soonyoung kissed you for the first time in his room. You’ve had more experience with other people since then, but it dulls in comparison to his simple kiss. You hate it. What you hate even more is how childish it makes you feel, embarrassment heating your cheeks and throat when he catches your gaze across the booth and you divert your attention. 

For the second time, Soonyoung peels the girl off of him, making like he’s going to get up and come sit next to you again. This time, his companion keeps him rooted to the spot, her nails digging into his forearm as she hisses something at him. He groans, head tilted back like he’s once again the most inconvenienced man in the room. 

Wanting nothing more than to blot him out, you call Wonwoo’s name again, leaning forward heavily for more frostbyte. Soonyoung whistles and snaps his finger in your direction as though to tell you no. You bristle, your anger turning to an inferno, burning up inside of you. 

Vernon and Angel both cringe, leaning out of your line of fire as you swivel to angle yourself toward Soonyoung, hands shaking. “Don’t fucking whistle and snap at me! I’m not a dog.”

“Baby, you don’t need more. Your pupils are the size of Mingyu’s big ass head.”

Mingyu, though right next to Soonyoung, doesn’t hear the insult, his tongue being sucked down the throat of the girl sitting in his lap, hips grinding on him. Another girl is pressed to his side, teeth nipping at his jaw. At least someone is having fun, you think, the three of them totally aware of the crackling tension in their booth. 

The girl attached to Soonyoung’s neck a moment ago bristles when she hears your nickname. “Baby?” she asks, face scrunching. “Are you serious?”

“Chill out, Victra. It’s her nickname.”

“Yeah,” you agree, shooting her a venomous look, despite her doing nothing to earn your ire. “Chill, Victra.”

Once again, you turn your back on Soonyoung, standing and scooting Seungcheol over to swap places with him. He does so with a keen eye, watching the scene unfold as he sucks his lollipop happily, content to watch the drama. 

Wonwoo dips his knife into the bag as you settle in next to him, bouncing with excitement. “I love when you do drugs, you’re so much fun.” 

“I don’t feel very fun right now.”

“Drugs will fix it!” 

“Wonwoo, don’t you dare give her that,” Soonyoung warns. He pries Victra’s hands off of him, leaning forward as though to reach across the table. 

“Ignore him,” you insist. 

Wonwoo hesitates, stuck between a rock and a hard place. The last thing he wants to do is tell you no. No one but your father and older brother get to tell you no. Wonwoo knows this better than most people. But he also doesn’t want to cross Soonyoung, a venture nearly as dangerous as pissing off Seungcheol. 

Soonyoung hisses at the girl next to him,  “Stop clawing at me! Baby, please stop being stubborn for one moment. Just one. ”

“Why the fuck did you even bring me up here?” Victra interrupts, ignoring Soonyoung’s plea. “You’ve done nothing but fawn over her since we got here. This isn’t fun.” 

Soonyoung ignores her. “If you’re mad at me, be mad at me. Stop blowing shit up your nose to prove a point and be a bitch, though.”

“I’m not proving fuck, Soonyoung. And Victra’s right, go fuck her in the bathroom or something and stop telling me what to do.”

“So it is about her?” 

“I have a name!” The her in question snaps. You turn around, temper flaring as you level your glare at her. She turns her nose up at you as she says, “It’s obvious you’re bothered he brought me here. Your jealousy is insufferable.” 

“Ding, ding ding,” Seungcheol imitates a bell. You turn around to look at Victra. “Round one! Fight!”

It takes a second for Victra’s words to land. It’s like each one hits you a second apart, packing their own punch as you register them. The pulsing music around you fades to a dull roar as you stare at her, seeing the way her lips twitch upward as she realizes she’s right. You are jealous that Soonyoung brought her up here. 

Victra’s grin is all it takes for you to spill over. Before you can register what you’re doing, you’re out of your seat and leaping over the table at her, knocking over glasses and bottles. Wonwoo cheers in delight behind you as your brother catches you by the waist, trying to keep you on your side of the booth as you tear at his hands to get across the booth. 

Seeing the attack of opportunity while you’re subdued, Victra shoots to her feet. Angel is fast as an adder, one moment sitting in Vernon’s lap and the next striking Victra down into the booth, knee planted in her stomach. Vernon does nothing to stop his girlfriend, opting instead to reach for a water bottle, unscrewing it to take a sip as his girlfriend pins Victra down to the seat with little effort. 

Noticing for the first time that their friend is in distress, the two women with Mingyu lift their heads. As soon as one starts to slide from his lap to reach for Angel, you kick a foot out, striking the bucket of alcohol and ice. The bucket goes flying at her, hitting her hard in the face. She screams, crumbling in Mingyu’s lap, cradling her face. 

Mingyu and Soonyoung are on their feet in seconds, soaked from the waist down and trying to gain control of the situation as it spirals. Mingyu becomes a blockade between Victra’s two friends, trying to keep them on their side of the booth. Soonyoung is prying a bottle from a hand before it can make its way toward you, yelling something indecipherable. 

Angel is still pressing her knee deep into Victra’s gut. Victra’s attention has diverted from you entirely as she screams like a wounded animal, pushing and scratching at Angel’s knee to try and get her off. You’re sure it hurts, but Angel doesn’t budge, sinking her weight into it. 

Leaning down, you grab something to lob at them - someone’s shoe - but Seungcheol manages to haul you off your feet and spin you, planting you into the booth behind him. You growl, shoving at his legs to move him out of the way, trying to re-engage. 

“Fucking hell,” he grunts. “Are you fucking juicing? Why are you so strong?”

“It’s the drugs,” Wonwoo offers unhelpfully. “Really top of the line drugs.”

“Shut up, Wonwoo!” Both you and Seungcheol bark at the same time. 

Wonwoo holds up his hands, leaning back into the seat as he watches the mess unfold with a delighted grin. You strike out with your foot, slamming against the booth’s table, shoving it in Soonyoung’s direction. You hear glass shatter as more things fall off the table, clattering to the ground. There are shrieks and curses that you can’t see with Seungcheol blocking the way. 

“He’s a fucking asshole!” You seethe to your brother, panting with rage. 

“He is, and you did exactly what he wanted you to do.” You try to kick the table again but he stops you, grabbing your knee. You feel like you can’t get enough air, sweat slicking your skin and the velvet of the couch too sharp against your flesh. “Soonyoung loves a fight when he’s fucked up. You know that.” 

“Well fuck him!”

He pulls the stick from his mouth, candied stim gone. He tosses it onto the floor and looks over his shoulder where Mingyu and Soonyoung are corralling the three women out of the booth. “God, Angel  broke that girl's rib I think. Hahahha!” 

“I want to break her fucking face!” 

“I think you broke her friend's face. She is fucked up. That bucket hit her right in the eye. What a shot.” 

“If you’re so entertained, why’d you get in my way?”

“There’s a lot of eyes here.” You glance around, noticing other booths looking at you, people ducking toward one another to whisper. “You have an image to maintain.” 

Adjusting your shirt, you settle back into the booth. “Alright. Alright I’m good.”

When Seungcheol moves out of the way to take a seat, Soonyoung replaces him. You glare up at him, feeling your anger curl up in you again. His lips twitch, a hint of a smirk as he sits down next to you, sighing heavily and tilting his head to look up at the flashing lights.

The girls are nowhere to be found. Angel is sitting back down next to Vernon who hasn’t moved, and there are servers picking up the mess you made. Mingyu is notably absent, though you can guess where he’s gone for the night. He’s good at making scorned lovers feel better about their bad luck. 

“Jealousy is crazy on you,” Soonyoung notes, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he glances at you sidelong. “I kind of like it.” 

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” you warn. He laughs, the fight totally leaving him. “I’m serious. Don’t ever do that to me again, Soonyoung. Not to me.” 

“Alright, alright. When you say jump, right?” 

Soonyoung’s fingers brush against yours. Just the rough feeling of his calluses against the tips of your fingers has you shivering, anger replaced with want. He doesn’t take your hand, doesn’t move to do anything else but lean back in silence with your fingers touching. 

Resigned, you say nothing else to him. You’d got what you wanted - sort of - even if you know you made an ass out of yourself doing it. It isn’t the first time he’s made you jealous, but it is the first time it’s boiled over so violently. 

You remind yourself not to do frostbyte when you’re mad anymore.

You turn your attention to where Angel is snorting frostbyte up her nose off of her boyfriend’s phone, accidentally turning on the hologram as she does, her face suddenly caged by green screen data. You call her name gently. She looks up at you, pupils blown, reflecting the lights dancing above like dark glass. “Thanks,” you offer. 

Her grin is too wide, teeth too white. She reminds you of a demon more than she does an angel. “Anytime.” 

When you settle back in, you glance at Soonyoung once. He looks down at you, smirking a single time before he leans into you and rests his head on your shoulder. You feel him melt into you, sighing as his eyes close and he nuzzles a little closer. You put your hand on his thigh, squeezing once before you leave it there, feeling the heat of his skin through his pants.

It isn’t until he’s almost asleep, pressed as close as possible to you that you realize maybe he got what he wanted too. 

Rain washes over the black city, the mist turning the thousands of digital and holographic advertisements into a watercolor smear of neon. It smells wet and like rot, the drains overworked and belching water and trash back out into the street as you walk, feet splashing. 

You quickly duck out of the way of a group of rowdy men spilling from a bar. You can smell the drink on them, their feet sloshing in the rising water of the street as they dredge toward the next bar. They whistle at the pretty girls dressed in light up raincoats and flickering green contacts, stumbling toward a brothel instead of the bar. 

Gripping your umbrella tighter, you quicken your steps. Grease smoke drifts toward you from various hawker carts, the sizzle of meat making your stomach growl. You ignore them, knowing you have dinner with your family later as you take a corner and plunge into the darkness of an underground stairwell. 

The LEDs on your umbrella cast a pink light as you descend the stairs, careful not to slip on the caked grime. Two guards stand outside metal double doors, music pulsing faintly behind it. They look you up and down, ready to deny entry until you state your name at the bottom of the steps. 

“ID?” the one on the right asks, giving you a critical eye. 

Of course he doesn't believe you. The daughter of the Tower would never walk anywhere without a body guard, especially in this part of the city. You spin the umbrella, the pink coalescing as he takes the phone from your hand and taps it, blue lighting up his face when your ID and profile appear in holographic data above the screen. 

He clears his throat and bows at the waist. When his counterpart doesn’t, he smacks him hard on the back, making the man lean over. “Apologies, Miss Choi. Right this way.” 

Music hits you full on when the doors open, the base creating static in the air. You cringe as it vibrates through your ribcage and teeth, wondering how anyone could stand to be in a club this loud. Popping the umbrella shut, you let your eyes adjust while one security guard remains at the door, shutting it behind you, and the other hands you your ID.

“Should I escort you to the office, Miss?” 

Writhing bodies dance together, scintillating like snakes in a pit. Above them, lasers and holograms light up the world with flashes of colors you didn’t even know existed. A wide bar stretches to the left of the floor, lit up by soft cyan lights. Behind it, the bartenders move in a blur, the glow on their clothes turning them ethereal. 

You glance at the security guard, who waits patiently before shaking your head. You point to the space above the bar where there are two large, mirrored windows looking out into the club. “Up there?”

“Yes,” he answers, hesitating. “Let me escort you.” 

With a roll of your eyes you nod, gesturing to him to lead the way. He clears a path, clubbers and workers alike moving out of his way when he shoves them. You walk behind him, swinging your head from side-to-side as you look at the people, fascinated. 

People with spikes pierced in their skin and whorling tattoos with glow ink stare back at you, glowing contact lenses and gemmed teeth all taking you in. You rarely get to mix in with the crowd that partakes in more unique cosmetic alterations and fashion, fascinated by someone who walks by with red glowing face tattoos like a demon mask. 

At the foot of the stairs, the guard lets you walk up first. It’s clear of people, so he remains standing at the bottom, taking up an imposing position with his hands linked in front of him, blocking the stairway entirely. 

The thud of music vibrates through your boots as you climb the stairs, greeting another security guard. You can tell he’s already been warned you’re here - he bows immediately and keys in the pad at the door, opening the office for you. 

You pass by him airily, stepping into the dry and much cooler office. The door closes behind you, immediately cutting off the sound with high–tech sound proofing. Soonyoung is leaning against the bar, his back to the door as he watches out the windows, a glass in his hand. 

“What in the fuck are you doing?” he asks, tossing you a look over his shoulder. You grin, skipping over to him. He doesn’t grin back, looking you up and down as you join him. You reach for the decanter he’s drinking from but he smacks your hand, viper fast. “Not a chance.”

“What? Why not?”

“You shouldn’t be here, much less without a security team. The Tower will be livid.” 

“The Tower doesn’t have to know.”

Soonyoung’s jaw flexes. “The security team will tell him you were here.”

“Not if you tell them not to.”

“Baby,” he sighs, tilting his head up and closing his eyes. You lean against the bar, watching him. The lights from the club are dimmer in here, but they flash against his face, painting him in golden light. He’s beautiful. “What are you doing here?”

“Angel said you had a bad day.”

“I always have a bad day. And tell Angel to shut her mouth.”

You snort. “You tell her that.”

That gets a grin out of him. He lowers his head, dark gaze finding yours. “You can’t just walk around the Lower City without a personal guard, Baby.”

“I’m not helpless.”

“I know you’re not. I’m not either but people try to rob me all the time. You, on the other hand, are a lot prettier of a prize than I am.” 

“So you think I’m pretty?”

This time when Soonyoung sighs, it’s affectionate. He sips his glass of amber liquid, turning to watch the crowd outside the office. He holds out his glass to you, a concession. You grin further, accepting it from him and bring it up to your nose to smell. You don’t know anything about liquor, but from the spiced scent you can tell it’s good quality.

You take a tiny sip. It goes down smooth - strong, but good and warm. Instead of giving him the glass back, you cradle it to your chest, leaning against the bar next to him close enough that your arms are almost touching. He continues looking out at the crowd, keen eyes serious and back to work while you look at him. 

Soonyoung is beautiful. His side profile is lethal, the slope of his neck elegant, the curve of his jaw sharp but delicate, his high cheekbones catching the light. His eyes are dark pools, reflecting the snatches of light that come through the dark windows. 

“Did you come here to stare at me?” he asks, never taking his eyes off the crowd. 

“What if I said I did?” 

His mouth twitches at the corner. “Unfortunately I would believe you.”

Watching over clubs isn’t usually Soonyoung’s job. But this club is in a terrible part of the city and isn’t worth much to the Choi Syndicate, so sometimes he’s awarded the opportunity to prove himself to your father and to the elders of the Syndicate that he’s competent and capable of leadership, despite the fact you’ve always known him to be. 

Soonyoung isn’t meant for leading like Seungcheol. But there is a certain level of loyalty and understanding he has to cultivate with the heavies of the family, the Swords who carry out the bloody tasks of removing people from the way and keeping assets safe. His father had been the Sentinel of your family for years until his death, and Soonyoung is expected to pick up that mantle.

This is all a part of that. Soonyoung already has the loyalty of the security team running this hole in the wall, alerting him the second you arrived and refusing to let you go up the stairs alone. Had they failed to do that, you might think a little less of them. 

Soonyoung also probably would have had them beaten. 

Finally, Soonyoung turns to look at you. He sighs and raises his brows expectantly. 

“What?” you ask. 

“What did you come here for? Real answer, this time.” 

“I told you. Angel said you had a bad day. That is my real answer.”

“And?”

You shrug, sipping from the glass and turning toward the windows. “I wanted to make it a better one.” 

That makes him go silent. You can see him turn to look at you, his stormy gaze pinning you to the spot. You don’t look at him, letting him stare as you nurse the drink and watch the dancing crowd down below. They’re beautiful, in a way, an ocean of bodies saying as colors turn them blue and then green and then bright red and then lavender. 

Soonyoung leans toward you, bumping his head on yours lightly. That gets a laugh out of you, stomach fluttering and wishing he would stay leaned against you. He pulls away though, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his eyes back to his job. 

“Thank you,” he finally says, voice quiet. “It is already a better day.” 

The silence is comfortable. You eventually give him the drink back and he takes it, tongue darting out to lick the lip gloss you left. He hums. “Cherries.” 

“You’re gross.” 

He smiles into the glass, taking a sip. “I actually have something for you.” 

“A present?”

He snorts. “Not exactly. Go to the desk - top drawer on the right.” 

Eagerly, you do as he says. The heavy wooden desk sits in the back of the room, imposing even without the metal lockers behind it with weapons. You ignore the heavy guns under padlocks and go for the drawer in question. 

A rectangular box is in the drawer Soonyoung specified, unmarked. You turn it over in your hands, curious. It’s not very heavy and fits mostly in your palm. 

“Bring it over here.” 

You do, trailing back to Soonyoung. He extends his hand and you pass it over to him, watching with interest as he cracks the box open with the sheer strength of his fingers. He pulls out a small device, a wire and what looks to be a plug, tossing the box to the bar. 

“Do you know what this is?” he asks, holding up the device. 

It’s a small rectangle with a keypad and a screen. You raise your brows in surprise. “It is a very old phone.” 

“It is.” He smiles, pleased with your answer. He passes the materials over to you and you hold them against your chest. “That’s the charger and the charging cord. It’s one of the old kinds of phones that requires a phone tower. There are barely any in the city.” 

“And what is this gift for?” 

“I own the phone towers that support it.” You raise your brows. Soonyoung rarely spends the inheritance his parents left behind, so you’re surprised. “It only has a single phone number programmed into it that will call the one I have.”

At this, he reaches into his pocket and produces the phone’s twin. He shakes it for emphasis, pressing a button and lighting up the screen. “You have to make sure to keep it charged. I want you to have it for emergencies only. And I mean emergencies, Baby. This is a last resort kind of device, alright?” 

You chew your bottom lip, dragging your eyes to look up at him. “Why?” 

“Because I need to know that you always have a last resort.” His gaze darkens. “Clearly your assigned security team lets you give them the slip. I need to know that you can hit the dial on this faster than you can on our phones. They’re overly complicated and not quick. With this?” 

He reaches over and turns on the phone in your hand. Once booted, he presses the one button. The device in his hand starts ringing. “Direct and fast access to me at all times. Do it even if you can’t tell me where you are. I’ll find you.” 

Emotion twists your throat. You grip the phone with a vice grip, looking up at him with wide eyes. His face is serious. He slips his phone in his pocket, turning back to do his job. “I will answer,” he promises. “It doesn’t matter when and where. I will answer that phone even if I’m dying. Do you understand?” 

“Yes.”

He nods. “Good.”

A knock on your door wakes you up from a dreamless sleep. Darkness spills across your room like ink as you slip from your bed, cursing when you kick the corner of your nightstand. With a raspy voice, you ask the automated room assistant to turn on the nightlights, a hazy purple immediately lighting the circumference of your room.

Squinting against the lavender glow, you pad over your room to open the door. Soonyoung is leaning heavily against the wall just beyond the threshold, his chin tucked to his chest and his hair sweaty and clinging to his temples. 

He doesn’t move when you open the door, the lilac light casting an eerie radiance on the side of his face. It’s hard to make out his expression in the lurking shadow of the hallway, and he offers no explanation for why he’s knocking on your door at three in the morning. 

“Soonyoung?” you whisper, eyes darting down the hall. No one else is around. “Where are Cheol and Vernon?”

“S’cheol is still working. Vernon went to stay at Angel’s.”

“Are you - Soonyoung are you drunk? Or high?”

“Yeah.” 

Both you realize. You can deal with both. 

Grabbing him by the hand, you tug him gently. He pushes off the wall with heavy steps, stumbling through your open door and into the room. You grip him tighter, shutting your door with a gentle click before turning around to face him. 

Soonyoung won’t look at you, turning his face away as he sways a little where he stands. Now that you can see him fully, you realize that there is blood on the collar of his shirt. Heart thudding, your hands reach for it, peeling it back to look at his neck. Specs of dry crimson flake from sweaty skin, making your terror reach new heights. 

He shrugs you off. “Not mine.” 

“I - what’s going on?” 

Instead of answering you, he walks a few crooked steps toward your bed and sits down on the edge. Licking your lips, you approach him slowly. He’s slouched over, elbows pressed to his knees as his head hangs heavily. He still hasn’t looked at you properly and you’re aching to see his eyes. You can always understand him better when you see his eyes, able to read the depth of emotions hiding beneath his mask.

When you reach him, you crouch down. Instead of grabbing for him again and risking him pulling away, you rest your hands on top of your knees. When afraid or upset, Soonyoung is like a cornered animal. You don’t know whether he’s in fight or flight, both just as dangerous as the next. 

“Soonyoung,” you say again gently. You watch his every move. “You’re scaring me. Do you need me to call Cheol or Vernon?”

If Seungcheol is working the circuit, he isn’t the best to call. Late night circuits include going from club to club under the Choi banner to monitor the drug trafficking and attend small business meetings as appropriate. Seungcheol will drop whatever he’s doing for you in a heartbeat, but it’s more complicated than that. 

In theory, Vernon is easier to get a hold of. He’s already off work and though he might not answer his phone if you call, you know his girlfriend will. Plus, the blood on Soonyoung’s shirt and skin can give you a guess at what’s happened, and Vernon is more equipped for that type of thing than you are. 

“Let me call Vernon-”

“No,” he finally says. “No. Sorry. I just.” 

Your chest squeezes in pain. It’s like you can feel the torture radiating through him, feel the weight of whatever it is that’s dragging him down yourself. Desperation drives you to reach out toward him slowly, watching for any sign of startling him. When he doesn’t move to pull away, you touch him gently, squeezing his knee gently. “What do you need?” 

“My dad always said I should feel something.” His words are halting, coming out slurred. You wait, holding your breath as he works through them. “Always said that you should feel something when you kill someone. If you don’t, it means you’re nothing more than a beast with base instincts. Not intelligent or refined.”

It takes everything in you not to let your grip turn to steel at his words. Instead, you rub your hand up and down his thigh soothingly, saying nothing. Soonyoung has never killed someone before. You would know if he had. He’s the last in your immediate circle of friends beside yourself to take on the weight of stealing life, and you’ve dreaded this day for a long time. 

Murder is an inevitability in your family. Keeping the Choi Syndicate on top requires sacrifice, cruelty and cunning. Soonyoung had started serving as an officially ranked member of the Syndicate over a year ago, and though he had fucked up a lot of people and brought them to the brink of death, he hadn’t actually done it yet. 

“I felt nothing,” he whispers, voice thick. “Fucking nothing.” 

“What do you mean?”

“There was no guilt. I didn’t even flinch. It was so easy, like fucking breathing. That’s not what my dad wanted me to be. He always said that those who felt nothing were just… baser creatures. That we were better because we were… made better.” 

“I think your dad wanted a lot of things. You being alive was the most important of those things, Soonyoung.” 

“I’m just tired of feeling fucking empty. I don’t give a shit that I killed someone, Baby. Honestly? I was fucking looking forward to it. I thought maybe - just maybe - I would feel something, even if it was guilt or horror or satisfaction. There was nothing.” 

You have no idea what to say. Instead of words, you surge forward, letting go of Soonyoung’s knee to push yourself between his thighs, wrapping your arms around his middle. He flinches for a moment, arms hanging dead at his side as you press your cheek to his chest, squeezing. 

Inside, you feel your heart crack open. You shove down the overwhelming sense of despair on his behalf, instead focused on him. There’s nothing to say with words, and you hope he can feel what you’re trying to tell him through touch, that he can feel everything you don’t know how to say as you hold him tight, clinging to him. 

Slowly, his arms encircle you. It takes him a moment, but he applies a little pressure back. It makes you scoot in more, pressed as close as you can get to him. He buries his face in your neck, his breaths warm and smelling like tequila. He smells like him too, vanilla and sandalwood. 

“I don’t feel like a person sometimes,” he whispers. “It’s like the ability for me to feel anything died forever ago. Like I killed it so that I didn’t ever have to hurt again. Now I only ever feel when-”

He cuts himself off and sinks into you a little more. You bear his weight, willing to carry any burden for him. You don’t think he realizes that he could ask you to jump and you’d say how high. You’ve always been willing to jump for him, always willing to do whatever he wants, whatever he needs. 

Gently, you ask, “You only ever feel when what? You can tell me if you want. Whatever you need.” 

“I feel when I’m with you.” Soonyoung whispers it like it’s a secret he doesn’t want you to hear. You feel the words hit your skin where he speaks them, a shiver slithering through you. His grip on you tightens a little with the admission, like now that he’s said it, he can’t let go. Won’t. “I feel most like a person when I’m with you.”

Pressing the flat of your hand to his back, you begin to stroke up and down slowly, touch following the careful ridges of his spine. He sighs, shivering in your hold. You want nothing more than to take the pain or whatever he’s feeling away, to rip it from him and to destroy it. 

The fierceness of your love for him is hard to tamp down. A fiery admission of your feelings for him isn’t what he needs right now. You know Soonyoung like the inside of your own soul, everything that makes him tick, every habit he’s picked up over the years. You can sense him standing lost at sea, needing an anchor. Needing you. 

“Okay,” you say softly. “So stay with me. Be a person with me.”

“I’m not made for you.”

“Yes you are.” Your nails dig into his back through his shirt, pressing sharply. The desire to covet him is so intense it overtakes you. “If I make you a person, then how could we be made for anyone but one another?” 

Silence greets your logic. You stay holding him like that, desperate to keep him there, terrified he’ll shrug you off and get up. He’s done it before, shucking off your affection like something to be disposed of. And still you give it to him freely, begging him to take it. 

He doesn’t shy away from you. Instead you feel him nod, mouth brushing tenderly across your throat in the ghost of a kiss. “If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. Do you understand? I won’t… I will be incapable of ever letting you go. Ever. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

You hug him tighter. “Try to leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung.” 

“Where’s your other half?” the voice causes you to turn from where you lean against the bar. Angel slides up next to you, cocking her head as she does. She looks like a wraith, dressed in a rain slicker over black long-sleeved shirt that’s tucked into black pants. Her jacket and combat boots are wet, suggesting it’s still raining outside. “You’re usually attached at the hip. My therapist calls that codependency. Says Hansol and I have it too.” 

“Does your therapist also know you’re a murderer?” you mutter. The bartender slides drinks over to you and you nod in thanks. “Or that you’re only seeing her because Jeonghan made a bet with you? Or that your job often involves extortion? What does she think about that?” 

As a Rook of the Choi Syndicate, Angel’s job is a far cry from the holy nickname she’s sported since she was a child. Like Vernon, her role within your father’s empire is to collect debts owed to the Choi family and to remind them never to fall behind on payments. Other times, she’s simply used as a good tool to put the fear of god into enemies of the Choi family, and she’s good at it.

Raised under the careful tutelage of the Yoon family, there’s no weakness Angel can’t find and use. The only one better at it than her is her step brother, who is probably sitting next to your brother behind closed doors somewhere in the Choi Estate holding a meeting.

As Seungcheol’s future second in command, it’s Jeonghan’s responsibility to learn the ropes just like your brother. One day, it’ll be the two of them leading your family, a thought that makes you cringe with worry. 

Angel answers your question with a shrug. “I’m sure she knows I’m into some shit. I’m learning all kinds of new things about myself.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” 

“I don’t like therapy. And I kind of want to ask my therapist why she thinks she’s qualified for therapy when she’s fucking three of her clients.”

A snort escapes you as you shake your head. Of course Angel knows that about her own therapist. Lifting the two drinks on the bar, you drift away from her, eyes flicking over the Rook. “Stay out of trouble, Angel. And give Vernon my love.” 

She grins, wicked sharp and deadly. “No bar fights, hmm? Enjoy the party.” 

The party in question is exhausting. You’ve been playing pretty princess all night, saying hello to all of the right people, shaking all of the jeweled hands, kissing all of the right asses. You’re exhausted and the tension in your shoulder has been knotting further and further. 

Once upon a time you would have been thankful to at least not be Seungcheol. He shouldered a lot more responsibility. Now you’ve realized that you don’t shoulder less than him - it’s just different. If Seungcheol is the sword and shield of the Syndicate, you’re the face and smile. Galas, charities, celebrity events - it’s a never ending stream of smile, pose, shake hands. 

It doesn’t hide the fact that you sit on a throne that belongs to a criminal empire, of course. But it’s also no secret that the Three Syndicates run the city. Your family has long been one of the stalwart backbones of the government and city infrastructure. Only the Kim family and the Yong family come close. 

Still, appearances are everything. Especially when the Yong family owns most of the media outlets, weaponizing it against the Choi Syndicate every chance they get. You make it harder for them, using your appearances and platforms like a carefully wielded sword. 

Spotting Soonyoung among those dressed in dark security uniforms is easy. He nearly blends in with the dark pipe and drape that has been set up all over the ballroom of your home, but you could find him anywhere, your internal compass pointing to him even in the dark.

Soonyoung’s eyes alight on you, sharp and intense. His face is a cool mask of indifference, but you can see the way interest sparks in his eyes as he drinks you in. He’s already seen you in your dress tonight, but it doesn’t stop him from refamiliarizing himself, eyes tracing every dip and curve.

God you wish you were somewhere else with him. Specifically wrapped in the gray sheets of his bed, sweat-slicked and out of breath. 

“Stop looking at me like that,” you say shyly, handing him a drink.

He takes it and looks up at you, arching a brow. “I can’t drink this, I’m working.” 

“It’s just soda with lime, the way you like it.” 

His lips twitch in a smile as he takes a sip, nodding in confirmation. He doesn’t reach out to you and hold you close like you know he wants to, respecting the propriety of his position and the fact that he is on the clock right now. 

“You look tired,” he murmurs, eyes studying your face. 

So does he. As an official Sword of the Choi family, his job keeps him out late, bloodied, and tired. He’s completely changed from the man who sank into your arms that first night he killed someone, hardened into someone that your father sends to do just that often. 

A weapon. A Sword. A trusted knife in the dark for the Choi family.

You think Soonyoung is more capable than being a heavy for your dad and his associates. Soonyoung is intelligent and sharp, having gained perspective and a wealth of knowledge from living with your family. Still, his dad had been the leader of the hired guns for the Choi Syndicate. Soonyoung is an efficient killer, his fate bound by his father long ago.

“When are you off tonight?” you ask instead of telling him how tired he looks.

“I’m not.” You frown. He sips his drink again and gives you a soft smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s been busy. The Yong family are getting in our way at the docks. I gotta head down there with Vernon and Jeonghan after the party.” 

“The Yongs are doing it outright?” 

“No. We’re pretty confident it’s them though. Jeonghan is working on it. If we can bring the Xu family under our wing, it would be a lot easier to push them out.” 

“They have a son,” you note, thinking about the last event you attended where the Xu heir was in attendance. “Maybe marriage to one of our big hitters? Nexus Capital has an heiress.”

“I’ll mention it to Jeonghan. Who the fuck would want an arranged marriage, though?”

“Not me,” you laugh, wiping the eyelash you spot on his cheek gently. He gives you a tired, albeit affectionate smile. “You’ve been working nonstop. Tell Seungcheol you need a night off.”

“We both know it’s not Seungcheol working me to the bone, Baby.” 

Swallowing thickly, you turn away from him under the guise of scanning the crowd. You know you don’t fool him. Both you and Soongyoung know your father does not approve of your relationship, taking it out on Soonyoung to keep him busy and away from you. 

Your father would never hurt Soonyoung directly. You know that. He loves him like a son - sees his late best friend in the features of the man that Soonyoung has been shaped into under his care and tutelage. When you started dating Soonyoung seriously, you thought your parents might be happy. They adore him and they loved his parents just as much. 

Soonyoung is below your station, though. 

Your father will never say it outright. He wouldn’t insult his late friend’s son that way. But the way your father works Soonyoung harder than anyone else, holding him to a standard he doesn’t even keep for his highest level of men, you realize how deep the dissatisfaction goes. Even your mother’s adoration of Soonyoung does little to shield him from the petty assignments, try as she might. 

Still, you don’t care. And at the end of the day, neither does Soonyoung. As long as he gets to have you, he’s willing to put up with the petty assignments and the working late. 

“Hey,” Soonyoung says gently, bringing your attention back to him. He finishes his drink and sets it on a banquet table nearby. His eyes are averted, looking somewhere across the room as his hand slips around your waist to squeeze you quickly and press a kiss to your temple. “I’ve got to go - I’ve got a meeting with Vernon before we head out tonight. I’ll see you when I’m done. Probably won’t be until late morning.” 

“Alright,” You sigh. His hand slips from your waist and you wish you could pull him back to you. “Love you.” 

He grins brightly, giving you a wink before he melts into the crowd, weaving around party goers. Your heart squeezes when you lose sight of him. 

Someone clearing their throat catches your attention. You spin around to see Lan, one of your father’s personal Swords nodding politely at you. “Your father wishes to see you in the West Parlor. I’m to escort you.”

“Oh. Sure.” You set your drink down on the banquet table, wiping your damp hands on your dress. “Lead the way.” 

People bow their heads in respect as you go. You keep an even pace with Lan, which is hard to do with his long strides and your strappy heels digging into your ankles. He slows for your benefit and you give him a grateful smile, the swelling noise from the party leaving you behind as you step out of the ballroom and walk toward the west wing of the house. 

Some people mill about the halls of the estate. You can spot the members of the Syndicate who are on duty, mostly Swords that belong to the security force employed under the Choi family. You spot Chan leaning against a wall while gesturing broadly with his hands as he speaks to the owner of a new club on the edge of the Pearl District. When he catches your stare, Chan winks before focusing his attention back on the owner. Probably trying to work out some sort of deal or partnership, as is his job. 

The west wing of the house is quiet and off limits to the rest of the party. Your bedroom is just up two flights of stairs, your bed calling your name as you pass under the stairwell into the hallway that belongs to the West Parlor, the library, the study and your father’s billiards room. 

Old Man Vero is standing outside your fathers study, his hands linked in front of him and his head straight forward. He glances your way as Lan leans you toward the door, cracking a bit of a smile on his leathery face and giving you a wink. You grin, lightly reaching out and touching his elbow as Lan opens the door for you. Your father’s Swords have been in your life since you were a child, permanent figures of fixed loyalty and familiarity. 

They love you like they love your father, like they love your brother. It isn’t pure fear and power that keeps the Choi Syndicate together. Your father has plenty of that among the ranks, but the loyalty and love between him and his higher ranking members is real. Critical. It was a skill he taught you and Seungcheol, both of you arming yourself with your own shield of friends and confidants. 

Your father sits in a leather armchair, leaned back with his eyes closed. Next to him, a cigar smokes in the ashtray, threatening to go out as the thin wisps of smoke vanish into the air. An old fashioned record player echoes in the far corner of the room, smoothe notes vibrating through the air. 

“Tower,” you greet him formally, bowing at the waist. “How can I be of service to the family?” 

His eyes flutter open and he looks at you tiredly. He looks so much like your brother that it’s uncanny, sometimes. But his youth has worn off, his age more and more evident these days as he spreads himself thin expanding the Choi empire. Your mother has asked him - begged him - to give more responsibility to Seungcheol, but he refuses.

At least you know where your stubborn streak comes from. 

“So formal,” he notes, his lips twitching upward. He gestured for you to sit in one of the arm chairs. You do, smoothing your dress carefully as you sit. Behind you, Lan exits the room, the soft click of the door behind you. “You were always a better student than your brother.”

“That’s because he’s a man.”

A hearty laugh makes you grin, feeling a flutter of fondness. He was never an overly affectionate father, but he’s always been kind, though firm. You respect him, which is saying something in your world.

“Spoken like an intelligent woman,” he sighs. You wait patiently, watching as he seems to gather his words. Your stomach knots, sensing a trepidation about him that you’re not used to. “Your intelligence has always been your best asset, though you’re a little hot-headed like your brother.” 

“Steadfast is the mountain,” you say, quoting the Choi family motto.

He grins and adds your mother’s family moniker, “But the fire does burn. I knew marrying your mother was a good choice. Marrying the right person is paramount in this life. Family unions can make or break an empire, and they forge old alliances anew or secure new alliances.” 

A prickle down your spine makes you sit straighter. You had implied as much earlier to Soonyoung about the Xu family, knowing marriage was a viable option to bring the shipping mogul into the Choi empire. Now, though, the notion has you on edge, watching him like a frightened cat.

“I didn’t pick your mother, you know,” he muses, his eyes unfocusing somewhere far away. “But when my father recommended her, I knew he was right. I was familiar with her, of course. We went to school together. Fought like cats, but she was so intelligent and fierce.” 

You’ve heard this story before. Your father hadn’t loved her to start, but your mother had loved him right away. Had always known that she loved him. She’d shown up at one of his billiard nights and told him exactly how she felt, asserting that they would be married and that he would be loyal to her. 

He’d fallen in love with her that night. 

He sighs heavily. “I see a lot of your mother in you.”

“Don’t let her hear you sound so disappointed. She might be offended.”

“She’s better than me,” he says. His eyes focus on you, flicking back to appraise you. Sweat slicks on your back and only years of training keep you from not fidgeting under his weighty gaze. “But it would be easier sometimes if you were more like me. Less fire, more mountain. Still, you are rational, so let us speak plainly: you are going to marry the Kim family heir.” 

Silence hangs in the air. You stare at him, your brain taking a moment to catch up with his words. It’s like you’re moving in slow motion, processing the firmness in his voice, the way he looks at you with heavy countenance. 

You are going to marry the Kim family heir.

A high-pitched ringing starts in your ears and you feel the buzz of panic start to tingle at the base of your spine. Your fingers dig into the arms of your chair a little, trying to fight the staccato rhythm of your heart from getting out of control. 

“What?” you ask. It feels dumb, compared to the eloquence you’re capable of. 

“Kim Yijun is a perfect match,” he says simply. “He’s in line to inherit the Kim Syndicate. There is tension with the Yong family, and I will not lie to you: they have a far larger reach than we would like. They don’t do things the old way like the Choi and Kim families. They have started to ally themselves with the Arash family in Veridian, giving them cuts and room in our city to spread their reach outside the bounds of their own city.” 

“I don’t understand.”

“The Kim and Choi families have been united before. They’ve always been our first ally in times of city upheaval and Syndicate war, and they, like us, don’t believe in letting outsiders have a seat at the table. The Yong family don’t understand that, and are willing to let vermin have scraps if it means scooting us out.”

“I’m-” you shake your head. “You can’t ask that of me.”

“I’m not asking.” He reaches for a lighter and picks up the cigar. He takes a moment to relight it, taking his focus off of you. You feel your pulse spiking, your grip on the chair like iron. “I am telling you that this is what your future will be. I understand you like the Kwon boy, but-”

You sneer, baring your teeth. “The Kwon boy? Don’t reduce him to some stranger. Soonyoung grew up in this house, he is family. And I don’t just like him, I love him. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you bullying him because you’re frustrated that I love him. You love him too.” 

“I do. I love him like my own. But he is not for you.”

“He is. I will not marry Yijun. I am asking you not as a member of this Syndicate, but as your daughter to drop this machination from your plans. I am your blood, you cannot ask this of me.”

“I told you, I am not asking. I am telling you.” 

A tremor starts in your hands. Your heart races so fast that you feel sick, sweat slicking your skin as you begin to pant sharply. The ringing in your ears grows until you feel disconnected to it, like suddenly you’re living in third person. You’re aware that you’re hyperventilating and yet, suddenly it’s separate from you.

Standing abruptly, you feel the world tilt. You take a second to steady yourself, feeling the numb tingle spread throughout you like a flood. 

“Sit down,” your father demands. You hear the warning. Recognize the firmness in it. This is the Tower of the Choi Syndicate speaking, not your father. 

“Take this as my resignation from the family,” you tell him. Your voice doesn’t feel like your own, steady and without inflection. “I’ll renounce my inheritance and will not use the Choi family for any connection or advantages-”

“You will not!” 

His voice startles you. Lures you away from the safety of your detachment. You look at him, eyes wide and shaking. His hand is fisted on the armchair, his rage crackling around him like a thunderstorm. “I will not have my only daughter sabotage everything this family has built for the affection of someone unfit for her station. Kwon Soonyoung is a weapon meant to serve you. You will marry Kim Yijun or I will remove the obstacle altogether.” 

Your entire life there have been two versions of your father. The stoic leader of one of the oldest criminal empires in Hyperion, the vicious man who could be cold and calculating, and who was reverently feared by his enemies. The kind father who watched you and Seungcheol study math together, carefully explaining to you how to carry numbers over in the equation. 

It is the former who sits before you now. Someone entirely unfamiliar to you, though you’ve always known he existed. And why would you? Your father has never had to be ruthless with you before, hiding the way he could cut from you until it was necessary. 

Soonyoung knew. You know it with absolute clarity. You remember the fear in his eyes when you had slipped into his room that night asking for a kiss, the way that he is always so careful about when and where he touches you, the way he takes the assignments and the mistreatment without so much as a protest because it means he gets to have you.

“You would kill him?” you whisper, looking your father in the eye. “You promised to take him in when his family was murdered. He had no one, and you promised his father you’d raise him as your own. You would go back on that?” 

He scowls. “If his father knew what he was, he’d kill Soonyoung himself. That boy is a dog to be set upon whoever his owner wishes, who kills with impunity.” You say nothing. I don’t feel like a person. Soonyoung’s words echo in your mind, haunting. “I hold the collar and I will put him down, if need be.” 

“So you raised a pet to be disposed of at your convenience?”

“I raised a boy who should be grateful I haven’t put him in the fucking ground for sullying my only daughter. I let you two have time, and you should be grateful. It is my love for him that has stayed my hand this long. No more. You will marry Kim Yijun, or you will bury that boy. This is the command of your Tower.”

“Mother will not let you-”

“Your mother doesn’t let me do anything. I am the Tower of this family, and it does what I command. You will fall in line.” 

Tears spill from your eyes. You suddenly feel like you’re standing on a cliff, the vertigo of nothingness at the bottom making you sick with fear. Desperation grips at you as you stare at your father, willing him to change his mind. Begging him. 

His pity doesn’t come. There is only resolute silence, watching as you crumple in front of him, knees going weak as you abruptly sit - fall - on the floor. You bury your face in your hands, grief for something lost stealing your ability to maintain control before you’ve even given an answer. 

I’m not made for you. 

Soonyoung had tried to tell you a long time ago and you’d brushed him off. Of course he was made for you. He was all you’ve ever wanted, and you’ve always been given what you wanted. You made him whole, and he you. How could you not be made for one another. 

“Please don’t do this to me. Daddy,” you whisper, trying to appeal to him with the little girl he loves. “Please, I love him.” 

“Lan will escort you to your room.” You ignore his words, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes, willing the tears to stop. You know later you’ll feel pathetic for the display of emotion, for the meltdown in the face of adversity. “You will announce your engagement at the end of the week.”

“Yes, Tower.”

“If you so much as remotely try to sneak around with him, I will put him in the ground and bear the weight of that grief for eternity.” 

“Yes, Tower.”

“Know that I love you. We must make sacrifices for this family we wish not to. But you will make the sacrifice like I have so many times before. So will Soonyoung.” 

You stand, limbs shaky as you look at your father, the heat of your mother’s rage fueling your gaze. “Yes, Tower.”

Sleep claws at you with greedy fingers, unwilling to give you up to the waking light of day. You groan, suspended in that moment of almost awake but achingly unaware. A brush of warm skin on your arm pulls you the rest of the way from heavy sleep, your thoughts sticky as they formulate and you open your eyes, squinting in the gray light of your room. 

Squinting at the clock displayed on your nightstand, you realize it’s late morning. The tinted windows of your room keep out the sunlight, but a single panel has been adjusted to let some of the cloudy day in, a single shaft of gray spilling into your room like muddy water. 

Warmth presses behind your back, the steady touch on your arm trailing up and down. For a second, you lean back into it, feeling your head thud against Soonyoung’s chest, his mouth pressing against the crown of your head. He drags his fingers up and down your arm absently, light as a feather. He smells like soap, a hint of his familiar vanilla and sandalwood. 

“Have trouble sleeping?” the words are mumbled against you. 

“Hmm?”

“There’s lines of crushed knockout on your nightstand, Baby.” 

You look at the nightstand. Sure enough, the white pills you crushed are dusted across the surface. The reality of why you used them slams into you so suddenly that you stiffen, muscles locking.

Soonyoung notices immediately, his touch stilling. “What?”

Finding the words is impossible. You don’t know where to start, your father’s words make you dizzy. The sheets stick to your skin, Soonyoung’s warmth too hot to stand. You scramble from bed, kicking at the sheets and putting distance between you as you bolt toward the bathroom. 

“Hey,” he calls after you. You don’t turn to look at him, the cool tile giving you goosebump as the lights flicker on. You close the door behind you firmly, pressing your back against it. Soonyoung’s knocks are immediate, his voice calling your name on the other side. “What’s wrong?” 

The use of your name sours your stomach. You lurch forward, diving for the toilet as the contents of your stomach empty. The bile burns, your eyes watering as you press against the cold porcelain, clinging to it for life. 

Soonyoung opens the door, letting himself in as you heave again. He’s quick to react, opening the medicine cabinet to remove an anti-nausea inhalent. He wordlessly pads over to you, crouching down to extend it toward you. 

You avoid looking at him directly in the eye as you snatch it from him. His brows are pinched in concern, face swollen with what little sleep he got and mouth turned downward. Your stomach roils again but holds as you crack the inhalent and wave it under your nose, breathing in gently. 

The stimulant makes your eyes water, but immediately the churning in your stomach subsides. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in and out slowly, trying to regulate yourself. Soonyoung watches in silence, his hands opening and closing at his sides like he wants to reach out and touch you but doesn’t. 

When you open your eyes, there is so much love and concern on his face that you almost break right then and there. Instead, you clear your throat and straighten, tossing the medication in the trash.

“Thanks, just hungover. I need to shower.”

He looks doubtful. “Alright.”

Soonyoung stands, heading to the shower. You clear your throat and he pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Alone, please.” 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just want to shower.” 

He says your name again. Not Baby. Not any other derivative. Your name. “You can talk to me.”

Your heart cracks. You panic. Your brain races for the only viable option. “I just want to take a fucking shower, Soonyoung.” You push yourself off the ground, scowling at him. He moves out of your way as you pass him, stunned to silence. “I don’t need you crowding my space every five seconds.” 

Refusing to look at him as you hit the panel in the wall, you instead focus on the water that falls from the ceiling, a storm of heat and the smell of peppermint. You keep your back turned toward him, staring at the water as it heats, steam curling in tendrils where it hits the stone tiles. 

“You can go,” you say sharply. 

“Alright.” 

The gentle click of the door when he leaves is barely audible over the hum of the shower. You let the rushing water lull you into a state of numbness, peeling your clothes off with unsteady, mechanical movements. 

Hot water slicks off your shoulders. You close your eyes and hang your head, letting the feel of the peppering water sluice over your ears, eyes, nose, mouth. You let it blind your senses to nothing but the roar of water, blotting out everything else. 

If I stay right now, you will never get me to leave. 

You remember when Soonyoung whispered it against your skin just a few years ago, spoken carefully and clearly, a promise and a warning. He would never let you go. You had to let him go. Telling him what your father has asked of you - has threatened to take away from you - will only make Soonyoung’s feet dig in further.

For as long as you’ve known him, Soonyoung has been a covetous creature. You remember the night at the club he antagonized you just to see that spark of want, just to prove to himself it was him you wanted. You remember the way he clung to you in the dark of your bedroom, the only person who could ever make him whole. Who could make him feel. 

Your father sees Soonyoung as a loyal attack dog - but it isn’t the Tower of the Choi Syndicate who holds Soonyoung’s collar. It never has been. Soonyoung has never asked your father how high. 

Pressing your palms to your eyes, you start deep breathing exercises. In through your nose, out through your mouth. The shaking in your fingers begins to subside, the logic part of your brain turning on. 

The threat on Soonyoung’s life is real. You saw the resolve in your father’s eye, the painful glint. He would hate to do it, but he would do it. You’re entwined too deep into your family’s affairs and business to vanish. There is nothing in the world you have that’s your own, no assets that are not connected to them in some way.

And if you tell Soonyoung, he’ll face the problem like he does everything that stands in his way: try to kill it. 

For a split moment, your brain chases the thought like a mouse after cheese. Like a long math problem, you work out if it’s possible to commit patricide and get away with it. Your mother will never forgive you, but Seungcheol might. Your friends would - they’re loyal to you, especially Jeonghan and Angel. 

The older generation, though- 

You toss aside the thought almost as quickly as you thought of it - not because you don’t want to kill your father, but because it isn’t possible. Not just like that. There are too many pieces on the chessboard, too many domino effects spreading out in every direction if you take that route.

No. There is only a single path for you, set in motion by a hand with more power than you. 

And there’s only one way you can move forward with Soonyoung. 

There’s so much of your mother’s side of the family you’ve inherited. Her side has always been associated with the phoenix, the burning immortality of their name and their strength, a blazing glory. Your maternal relatives have always been the rage and the fire that was needed for a Syndicate to advance, a good partnership for the Choi’s who were cold and steadfast. 

What you need now is the winter of the mountain, not the rage of the phoenix. You need to be a Choi. 

Steadfast is the mountain. 

You love Soonyoung. You love him you love him you love him youlovehimyoulovehimyoulovehimYOULOVEHIMYOULOVEHIM- 

Pressing your fist to your mouth, you bite down for one, blinding moment of untapped rage. You feel your skin break, taste iron and salt, feel pain bloom. 

Steadfast is the mountain. 

Then it’s gone. You drop your hand from your mouth. Open your eyes. Turn off the shower. The rage is gone, buried beneath a layer of newly formed ice. If there is anyone you can do this for, it’s Soonyoung. You love him. You will destroy him. But he’ll be alive. 

Soonyoung is sitting on your bed when you open the door. He’s got a tablet in his hand, the holographic images displaying above the screen, haloing his face in blue light. There are circles under his eyes and his teeth worry at his bottom lip, which is chapped. He’s shirtless, the compact planes of his body half shadowed by the single shaft of light filtering through a window. 

He looks up at you but you ignore him, heading to your closet. The silence is brutal. You push through it, opening the closet doors to reveal a massive space nearly the same size of your bathroom. Track lights kick on, rows and rows of clothes by color greeting you. In the middle, there is an island counter, filled with drawers and biolocked jewelry safes. 

Soft steps tell you Soonyoung is standing at the entrance of the closet. You still don’t face him, walking over to your section of black clothes. You flick through them, eyes scanning. Black seems appropriate. It feels like death, afterall. 

Soonyoung’s voice is soft as his late night kisses. “What’s going on?” 

“I’m marrying Kim Yijun.” 

A beat passes. Then another. 

“Is that supposed to be a joke? I’m not interested in pranks this morning.”

“It’s not a prank.” You pull out a black, silk dress. “The Tower has asked this of me, and I’ll be doing it.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

You continue, undeterred as you put the dress back and keep looking. “The Kim family has agreed to the match ahead of the rising tensions with the Yong Syndicate and their new take on foreign allies. A united front of the old families will benefit our family-”

“You’re not fucking marrying Kim Yijun.” 

“All of the metrics we’ve run for public opinion and potential city-wide reaction are favorable. The Tower needs his children to fall in line, and I intend to do so.”

Soonyoung storms toward you. You turn on your heel, holding a finger out to him, voice severe, “Don’t come near me.” 

“Why? Because you know you’ll lose your resolve? Because the second I touch you, you’ll drop whatever bravado this is and let me help you?”

Exactly that. He knows you inside and out. Sees through the front. It doesn’t matter. You don’t need him to believe you, you need him to obey. 

He takes another step and you back up. “I will scream,” you threaten, venom in your voice. “I will scream and Seungcheol and Vernon are right down the hall. Whose side do you think they’ll take, with your reputation for violence?” 

“Fuck you, they know I’d never hurt you.”

You hear the waver in his voice. That tiny sliver of doubt, so small and tiny but there. They do know he would never hurt you, but Soonyoung isn’t convinced they’d believe him. It makes you sick, but you latch onto it, unspooling that tiny bit of hurt. “Do they, Soonyoung? I hear some of them call you a mad dog because you attack with no regard for anything. Do you really think they trust you entirely with me?”

Soonyoung is raging. His chest rising and falling, shaking his head back and forth as he tries to understand. You’re rooted to the spot, muscles coiled, pulse thudding in your throat. “You are not,” he growls. “Marrying Kim Yijun. You don’t even want to, don’t try to lie to me about your feelings or insult me thinking you can bait me. You love me. You are mine.” 

“I belong to the Choi family and it’s what my family needs from me. I will do my duty.”

“Fuck your family!” His roar makes you flinch, briefly closing your eyes. His palm slams on the top of the countertop in front of him, sharp in the silence. “You have a duty to me. I told you I would not fucking let you go. You’re not doing it. I’ll fucking kill him, you think I won’t? I’ll murder every last one of them-” 

“You don’t tell me what to do, Kwon Soonyoung. I will do this, and you will obey.” He bristles, going rigid as your words land like a slap. “When I say jump, you say how high. You’ve always known that.” 

For a second, he cracks. The Soonyoung you first saw on your doorstep, crying and round-cheeked and ruddy returns. His lip trembles and the way he looks at you nearly melts your iron will. You’re so close to collapsing, to laying it out before him, to risking it all. 

“Don’t do this to me.” His whisper is made of glass. Delicate. He presses his palm to his chest, right over his heart. Earnest. “I can’t - you know I can’t. I- please. I can’t do this.” 

Licking your lips, you look him in the eyes. His eyes are your favorite. Dark. Stormy. Endless. They are lined with silver, panic rippling across the surface. 

You lift your chin and push back your shoulders. “You can and you will, because I told you to jump, Soonyoung. Now ask how high.” 

Sunlight warms the back of your neck, humidity clinging to your skin like a second layer. You take a deep breath, though the steamy air offers no relief. You snap open a silk fan, waving it in front of your face in hopes of chasing away some of the sweat, feeling the separation between skin and makeup the longer you sit in the wretched heat of the garden. 

It’s not even real sunlight or heat. You can’t tell beyond the projection in the room, but you know that there are vents heating up the room and controls that make the air humid and sticky, making it feel like you’re sitting in a real garden outside somewhere lush. 

Lin drones on and on about something. You tuned her out long ago, eyes flickering back and forth to your watch and the women’s faces around you. None of them here are really your friend - not in the way Angel is, the way Wonwoo or Jeonghan are. 

Yet you’re expected to be here, entertaining the upper echelon wives of the Choi and Kim Syndicates, boiling away in an imaginary garden while you sweat to death, dress clinging to your skin and thighs slippery in the seat as you adjust yourself, uncomfortable. 

“It’s hot as a motherfucker,” a whispered voice comes from next to you. You look up to see the newly engaged heiress of Nexus Capital next to you, glaring behind the dark shade of her sunglasses as Lin continues rambling about something. “Couldn’t she have made it less real?”

A smirk twitches on your lips. You haven’t spoken to her much, but her recent engagement to Xu Minghao had secured the position the Choi Syndicate had been fighting for in the shipping yards and docks with the Yong family, elevating her family into the favored circle of your father.

Suddenly, you remember who had recommended that marriage in the first place. You remember the party, the pretty dress you wore, Soonyoung’s hand briefly on your waist as he kissed you goodbye for a meeting. You had no idea then that your throwaway comment about an arranged marriage to benefit your family would become your own nightmare under an hour later.

Grief is a funny thing. You never knew that you could feel grief for someone who isn’t dead, yet sometimes you feel such an overwhelming amount of grief at the hole that Soonyoung has left behind that you can’t breathe. 

Throat dry, you reach for water, drinking eagerly. You feel a bead of water run down your face, but you ignore it in favor of trying to focus on not panicking. 

Anxiety attacks are new for you. Though your entire life has been colored with stressful situations unique to growing up in a criminal Syndicate, you could never say that you were anxious before. At least not in the way that made the back of your neck too hot and the tips of your fingers buzz with the threat of a looming meltdown. 

You ignore it. It’s all you know how to do. The anxiety medication your therapist gave you doesn't work, and you can’t crush a bunch of pills and inhale them anytime you feel like you’re about to get tunnel vision and spiral. 

Well, you suppose you can, but you’re trying not to get into the habit. 

Instead of acknowledging the way the panic lurks around your edges like a predator waiting to pounce, you listen to the dull conversation around you. Focus on the gossip that you don’t care about, exactly, but know it’s good to have. 

Since marrying into the Kim family, you’re not sure what your job is. With your family, your role as the face, the legacy and the representation of the Choi Syndicate had always been clear and obvious. Now, your husband sends you to stupid things like this with preening people that you don’t like and makes you leave events early when he’s irritable. 

Gossip is a weapon, though. So you gather it when you can, taking in bits of information and storing it for yourself. Rarely do you offer it to Yijun - not that he would take it - but Jeonghan finds the information you share useful. So does Angel, but there’s rarely anything you know that she doesn’t. 

Just as your anxiety begins to fade, the source of it materializes. 

At first, you think you’re seeing things when a door appears in the wall depicting an apple orchard and Soonyoung strolls out into the fake-sun. You blink dumbly, spine tingling as you realize that your mind is not playing tricks on you and it is him. 

He sees you immediately. His dark eyes burn like embers, pinning you to the spot. His face remains motionless but you see his jaw tick, the only sign that he is immediately on edge when he sees you. He’s dressed for work in an all black suit, required for the Swords of the Choi family. 

Giggles breakout around the table as he approaches, the ladies around you all flushed cheeks and demure smiles. You feel the buzzing start in your hands again, this time worse. It goes up your arms, working its way to your chest as the anxiety increases tenfold, heart pounding.

Soonyoung bows. “I beg your pardon, ladies.” 

“My goodness, Soonyoung,” Lin preens. “You must be horribly hot in that suit, but you do look handsome.”

You fight the urge to snarl at her that the imitation of the garden isn’t real and no amount of pretending will make it real. You even imagine reaching across the table and plunging her fish knife into her hand. Instead, you watch Soonyoung, your hummingbird heart fluttering. 

He gives her a polite smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be alright. I apologize for interrupting, but the Tower of the Choi family has sent me to escort his daughter home.” 

“Home?” 

“The Choi Estate.” 

He doesn’t say what he means: the Kim Estate is not your home. 

“Alright,” you say, voice reedy. Your hands are trembling as you slide your chair from the table, the metal legs grinding loudly against concrete. You flinch at the sound, hyper aware of every bead of sweat crawling down your spine, every beat of your heart that is too fast, too hard.

Static fills you as you mumble parting words to the women who watch you in confusion. At least, you think you mumble your goodbyes. Blood rushes in your ears as you take uneven steps toward Soonyoung, who turns on his heel and starts marching toward the apple orchard. 

It feels like you’re in an echo chamber. Everything suddenly feels hollow and everything sounds as though you’re hearing it through a thin wall. Muted. Dull. He opens the door that you can’t quite spot even this close, ushering you inside as your vision starts tunneling to a narrow point, everything else blurry and distorted. 

No. No no no no no. 

Lifting your hands, you glance down at them to see them trembling, opening and closing your fists in an attempt to stop the buzzing feeling, as though you could will it away. You think Soonyoung says something but you can’t hear him over the roar of panic that grips you and tears you sideways.

Instead of following him down the hall, you lurch toward a different hall, rushing toward the powder room. It feels like the walls are narrowing as you throw open the door, breath coming out in pants. Everything feels tight and compact, crushing smaller still. 

Stumbling to the sink you try to turn the faucet on. Once. Twice. Cold water spits from the faucet and you gasp, leaning down over the sink to splash freezing water into your face. It doesn’t have the desired effect, the water is not cool enough to shock you out of your panic. 

Soonyoung speaks behind you. You can’t hear him, the grip of your anxiety so strong that you grab the edges of the sink to keep you up right. You’re heaving now, heart rattling so hard you think that maybe you’re having a heart attack instead. 

A firm grip wretches your attention from the porcelain sink to the mirror, where you see your dripping reflection, eyes blown like saucers. Soonyoung is standing behind you, a hand on your bicep, squeezing. His face is no longer a mask of indifference, but one of confusion. 

His mouth moves and you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. “I can’t,” you gasp, ragged. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” 

Then, he does something that catches you entirely off guard. You watch in slow motion as he steps back and removes the gun from the holster underneath his suit jacket. You hear the safety on the gun click and the hum as the weapon charges, ready to fire rounds of plasma if he squeezes the trigger. 

And then he points the gun at your head, the lights on it flipping from blue to red, signaling it’s ready to kill. 

The world stops. The panic vanishes for a split second, replaced with utter shock as you stare at him in the mirror. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” you demand, voice stronger than you expect. 

Soonyoung is ten levels of crazy, but he’s never pointed a gun at you before. You stare at him, open-mouthed and wondering if he’ll do it. If he could pull the trigger. He’d told you a hundred times when you were together that he would never let you go and it was always with clarity that you understood what he meant: it’s me or no one. 

With stark clarity, you realize there’s no reason for Soonyoung not to pull the trigger. He doesn’t care much about the value of his own life from what you can glean over the last two years, and he doesn’t really seem to care about yours. 

Not that he should. You promised to make him feel human and you did. Then you took it away from him, leaving him adrift in a vast ocean of nothing alone and untethered. 

No, you don’t think you inspire Soonyoung to feel human anymore. If anything, you probably make him want to be the worst version of himself. 

Soonyoung’s voice holds no emotion when he asks, “Are you with me?”

“Why are you pointing a gun at me?” 

“Breathe,” he says instead. He doesn’t lower the weapon, stormy eyes focused on yours. “Breathe,” he repeats. “Slowly, maybe.” 

“Soonyoung, you are holding a gun at me, what do you mean breathe?” 

“What do you mean what do I mean? I mean what I fucking said. Breathe normally.”

“Lower the gun!” He does. “What the fuck?”

He breaks eye contact, sliding the weapon back into his suit jacket. He turns away from you as though he didn’t have you at gunpoint a second ago. “You were having a panic attack. Sometimes a shock to the system stalls it. Your breathing has slowed down now. And you’re not panicking.” 

A beat of silence passes. Then, “So you leveled a gun at my head?” 

“It worked. Let’s go.”

“Are you fucking crazy?”

“Yes. Now let’s go. You’re needed at the Choi Estate.”

“Why?” 

“Do I look like I have all the answers? I just do what I’m told. When a Choi says jump, remember?”

You visibly flinch as his words land. Soonyoung doesn’t wait for you to gather yourself, spinning on his heel and exiting the powder room to stride through the halls. Tightness gathers in your chest, left over from your anxiety attack. 

Pressing your hands against your dress to wipe the sweat from them, you chase after Soonyoung. He’s already by the apartment’s elevator, jamming his finger into the button. He doesn’t look at you as he waits, content to stare at the metal door. 

You don’t know where else to look - you want to look anywhere but him. Turning around, you fixate on the floor to ceiling windows. It’s still morning outside, but it’s hard to tell with the way the clouds block out the view, turning everything to mist. 

This high up in the city is reserved for the elite. You can’t imagine why - there’s nothing to look at but clouds, clouds, and more clouds. It’s what makes them have virtual reality rooms in the first place, trying to recreate the experience that they might have if they were wealthy enough to own land. 

The sound of the elevator arriving makes you flinch. Soonyoung ignores you, getting in and leaning against the wall as he hits a button to go to the parking garage. You scramble in after him, a little breathless as the doors close just behind you. 

Immediately you start shooting down several floors. He glares at the wall, unseeing and unfeeling. You swallow thickly, watching the numbers decrease until you’re at Lin’s private parking garage. Soonyoung is out of the elevator before it finishes opening all the way, storming toward the car he’s left running idle. 

Normally someone would open a car door for you. Instead, Soonyoung gets in the driver’s seat and slams the door shut. You reach for the handle of the passenger seat and pause. Normally you sit in the back when being driven somewhere, it’s always been like that. But this is Soonyoung and you’ve always been beside him in the car, his equal. 

A muffled get in the fucking car reaches you. Deciding that sitting next to him is too personal, you open the back seat and slide in. You’ve barely shut the door when he punches the gas, slamming you into the back of the seat as he goes. 

“Would you stop being an asshole?” you seethe, ripping the seatbelt from next to you to buckle in. Your hands are still shaking and it takes a moment for the clasp to click.

Instead of answering, you hear the way the car accelerates under his foot. Scowling, you look out the window. He speeds into the lift that brings the car down to the ground floor. Lights blur by as the lift drops at lurching speed, your stomach in your throat. You hate coming to apartments for this reason, the feeling of having to freefall to leave never growing on you. 

It’s raining when the lift opens to the wet street. Soonyoung peels out on the pavement, tires spinning until they gain traction and the car slides onto the road, narrowly missing someone. You slam against the seatbelt, cursing and clinging onto the door as he pushes the gas down, engine roaring.

“Are you trying to kill us?”

Soonyoung doesn’t answer you. You think it might be because he’s not explicitly trying to kill the two of you, but he doesn’t care if he does. You try not to think about it so much as he powers through the streets of the Upper City, driving past towering businesses, luxury districts with entertainment and bars and apartment buildings. 

The road starts to incline and you hit a line of trees. The city vanishes behind you as Soonyoung drives the car up the winding road, leaving a world of metal and lights for greenery and earth. The contrast between the cities below and the Estates above is stark, especially as he drive’s higher up the mountain, snatches of the city below visible. 

“Why did you come to get me?” you ask, flicking your gaze to the rearview mirror to watch him. Soonyoung keeps his eyes on the road, but you see his mouth tighten. “Last I checked you’re not an errand boy.”

“So what, you check on me?”

“It’s a figure of speech, you know what I mean.”

“The Tower personally requested I come get you.” 

That gives you pause. Soonyoung’s face reveals nothing as he turns on the street that will inevitably lead to the massive metal wall that blocks off the world from the Choi Estate. There can only be a single reason why Soonyoung was sent to fetch you when usually your husband’s staff would do so.

“What’s happened?” 

Soonyoung doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he rolls the window down at the guard house to show his face. The security team recognizes him immediately, waving him through as the gate begins to slide open to reveal lush, green jungle. 

Gravel crunches underneath the car tires as he drives through the winding foliage on Choi grounds. Your great-great-grandfather had built the Choi compound, the first of the few elite houses on the mountain. He thought it was important to keep the plant life and sprawling greenery to conserve, but you knew it was really about power. Symbolism. Greenery didn’t really exist in the city, and this much space and plantlife meant wealth. 

The sprawling estate you grew up in reveals itself. Multiple buildings dot the property, making it more a family compound than an estate. Now that Seungcheol is old enough, he’s moved out of the main house and into one of the smaller homes, occupying the space with his own men and staff. Still, he’s just a brief stroll away from your childhood home.

Home. Even two years under a Kim family banner hasn’t erased the feeling of home for you. There is nothing in the house you share with Yijun that makes it feel like you. It is as devoid of love as your marriage, merely a placeholder for you to sleep, eat, and occasionally, try to produce an heir. 

Soonyoung pulls up to the long building that serves as a garage, hitting a button on the car’s screen to open one of the bays. He pulls in slowly, the outside world fading as the garage door shuts behind the car, dousing it in darkness until the neon lights above flicker on. 

Without a word, he powers off the vehicle and gets out. Taking a deep breath, you square your shoulders and get out of the car. He doesn’t wait for you - even shuts the door as he enters the main house so you’re forced to lug it open. 

He’s already opening the door to the main house a few yards away, forcing you again to haphazardly navigate gravel in your heels as you give chase. You’re sweating and irritated by the time you’re up the steps and pushing through the front door, a nasty quip on your lips ready until you see your aunt coming down the stairs. 

“Oh thank goodness,” she says, seeing you. She looks older than you remember, the lines of her face deep and the hair at her temples gray. “Come along.”

“What’s going on?” you ask, uncertain as you step into the foyer and let her take your arm. 

She scowls. “Did that useless boy not tell you? Your mother suffered a heart attack this morning. She’s with Dr. Ymir in the medical wing.”

Your heart thuds to a stop as you wheel around to look over your shoulder at Soonyoung. His gaze is stormy but his face gives away nothing as he turns to leave the way he came, slamming the front door and vanishing down the steps to leave you alone. 

“No,” you mumble as your aunt pulls you down the hall. “He didn’t tell me.” 

Because that’s how much Soonyoung hates you. Hate isn’t even the right word, you think. It is something far deeper and far more sinister, fueled only by taking away something that he valued more than anything else in the world and forcing him to live with it. 

I deserve this, you think as the door to one of the private medical rooms opens, a clinical smell hitting you in the face. I deserve everything that happens to me. 

I deserve this. It’s all you can think of as you watch the black casket lower into the ground. Seungcheol stands beside you, his hands linked in front of him. You want to reach out and take his hand in yours, but you don’t want him to look weak. Don’t want others to see him crack like you know he will if you comfort him. 

Instead, you comfort yourself as best you can, which isn’t saying much. You’ve never been good at dealing with your feelings, too much of your mother’s blood running through you. It was your father’s least favorite trait of yours and perhaps Soonyoung’s favorite.

Soonyoung, who has always been your emotional tether and outlet. You’re not accustomed to dealing with grief alone, and the pull of it feels like an undertow threatening to drag you under and drown you. 

Someone shifts behind you, close enough that you feel Yijun next to you stiffen. You turn to look over your shoulder, blinking in surprise as you tilt your head up to see Soonyoung. He doesn’t look at you, dark eyes fixed forward and jaw flexing tightly. He’s standing closer than is necessary, as shown by your husband’s scoff. 

Soonyoung doesn’t move, though. He remains nearly pressed against your back, so close that you can smell vanilla and sandalwood. Turning away from him, you feel your shoulders relax. He ignores you, but he’s there, a stoic guardian that’s just out of reach.

The Tower of the Choi Syndicate is too lost in his grief to notice or care about Soonyoung’s proximity to you. Your brother couldn’t care less, barely realizing that his brother by choice is an inch away from him. But you know Soonyoung is there and that’s all that matters. 

The grief lessens, turning back from churning waters to gentle, lapping waves.

“Your brother doesn’t respect me,” Yijun asserts. You look at him in the bathroom mirror. He’s standing behind you in the closet, taking out glinting cufflinks to replace them in the countertop in the middle of the aisles of clothes. “You should work on that.”

“Seungcheol hardly takes what I say to heart.”

Yijun snorts, detecting the lie before you can even get it out. Seungcheol very much values your insight and opinion far more than he’s interested in Yijun’s. He’s made it clear at multiple parties and events now, often asking you how business is and how the shared Kim-Choi accounts are doing, despite not having anything to do with them. 

Seungcheol hates your role within the Kim family. On more than one occasion he’s recommended Yijun make use of you somewhere in the family business, to make you the head of operation somewhere so that your schooling and experience weren’t going to waste. Yijun asserted that your social skills were being put to perfect use, entertaining the wives of his associates and serving as the perfect host when his business colleagues and friends were over. 

“He’s going to be leading the family soon,” Yijun sighs. “It would be better for us if he saw me as a real ally.”

“He does see you as an ally. You’re married to his sister.”

“Exactly, so you should remind him that I’m family.” It doesn’t sound like a threat, but it also doesn’t sound like a request. Sighing, you shut the drawer in the counter forcefully. It draws his attention, gaze darkening. “Don’t you want your brother to respect your husband?”

No, you think. You don’t respect your husband, so why should Seungcheol?

Instead, you sigh. “Of course, Yi.” He doesn’t soften at the nickname. “I’ll talk to him, alright? He’s got a lot going on. And don’t talk about my father’s health that way.”

“I didn’t say anything about his health.”

“Please,” you snort. “I know what you meant about Cheol taking over soon.” 

Yijun had been talking about Seungcheol more and more. You’ve watched with a sour taste in your mouth as your husband tries to earn your brother’s attention and trust, flashing what he thinks Seungcheol cares about in his face, telling him about the new car he acquired, or the historical art piece you purchased at an auction, and the new apartment building he’s constructing. 

Seungcheol doesn’t give a fuck about any of that. The Choi family never has. Your ancestors didn’t make a name for themselves and carve it on the mountain they built their home on by showing off their wealth and what it could do for them. They did it by earning it, and by remaining steadfast and intelligent. Political. 

Yijun understands none of that. As the eldest son of his family, it’s a shame. The real world of the Syndicates is lost on him. He has enough business acumen to run companies under his father’s careful tutelage and instruction, but he doesn’t have the social savvy for it, the right drive. 

His brother does. You think of Kim Minchan and nearly shiver. The middle child of the Kim family has more than enough understanding of the way that things work, but the ocean of blood behind him is enough for you to prefer Yijun leading the Kim Syndicate any day. 

“I’m just saying,” Yijun grunts, flicking off the lights in the closet. “Your brother has all the reason in the world to respect me and he doesn’t.” He looks at you, face hardening. “Do you tell him not to? Is that what it is? His baby sister tells him how useless her husband is?” 

Danger is in the air. Yijun won’t lay a hand on you, but it doesn’t make this dance any less stressful. You turn away from the mirror, looking at him fully. He’s not terrible to look at - he has a sharp jaw and a broad nose and a pleasant shaped mouth. He’s handsome, even. 

He’s not Kwon Soonyoung. 

Swallowing away the thought, you reach up to put your hands on his chest, placating. “I wouldn’t do that,” you assure him, softening your voice. You hate the sound of your voice, hate the way you pitch it low and gentle. “You’re a reflection of me too. I would never let my brother think any of those things about my husband.” 

Yijun swats your hands away, making you grit your teeth. “Don’t act like a whore. Just - tell your brother. I should be in his inner circle by now. Make it happen.” 

As Yijun leaves the bathroom, the urge to grab him by his collar and yank him back in to smash his head on the counter almost wins. You stare at him until he vanishes in the bedroom, your rage a live, sentient thing. You feel it crawl beneath your skin, slithering and clawing and biting and begging to be let out. 

Steady is the mountain. You take that fire and shove it down. Years of instinct of reacting with your mother’s temper peter out slowly. It’s a shame - you’re the last woman left from her side of the family, the only one who can carry the fire of the phoenix. 

You glare at the bedroom. Somewhere, Yijun lurks, getting into bed. Oh how the shadows of the weak choke out the fire of the strong. 

If killing Yijun wouldn’t risk everything, you’d have done it already. That first month spent with him where you realized this would not only be a loveless marriage, but a hateful one had almost driven you to it. The Choi Syndicate could surely survive a war with the Kim Syndicate - you had better assets, stronger loyalties, and more money. 

But if the Kim family turned to the Yong family… 

Avoiding unification of the Kim and Yong families is why you were married to Kim Yijun in the first place. To murder him now would mean Syndicate war, and despite the fact that every moment with him is hateful and poisonous, you’re too nervous to put your family at risk. 

Especially with your father’s failing health, as Yijun had pointed out. 

Syndicate war isn’t the only thing keeping you from stabbing Kim Yijun until you can’t feel anything anymore. Minchan’s shadow of a presence lingers over your thoughts, one of the few threats you truly fear. Any harm to his brother would elevate Minchan to a position where he could only wield his power more. 

And he’d hunt you like a bloodhound. You’re unsure if there is any corner of the world he would leave unturned if you killed his brother, no matter how much it would benefit him if Yijun keeled over tomorrow. 

Inside your bedroom is dark. It doesn’t feel like your bedroom at all. There’s nothing homey about it, no possession or unique decor, no pictures. You wouldn’t sleep in here at all if Yijun didn’t make you, insisting that he couldn’t trust any of the house staff not to tell your father you weren’t sleeping in the same room. 

Your father doesn’t care. He stopped caring about anything the day you put your mother into the dirt. Even if he hadn’t, as long as your relationship looked functional to whom it mattered, it mattered little to him if you slept in the same room or if you even liked Kim Yijun.

He’d made that very clear the day he tore away your future with Soonyoung. 

Yijun is already snoring when you climb into bed. You grind your teeth, reaching to pull open the nightstand for noise cancelling earbuds and sleep medication. The medication isn’t as strong as the crushed up knockout you might have used previously, but it helps take the edge off without making you vulnerable to attack. 

Which is something you still worry about. 

Setting your phone on silent, you settle in for sleep. It takes a long time, but you finally drift away to thinking about smothering the man next to you in his sleep. 

Something wakes you. Blinking sleep from your eyes, you sit up in bed and look around the room. It’s dark, but you can see the barely-there outlines of the furniture in your bedroom. Next to you, Yijun is gone. You can feel the lack of presence there more than you can see it, reaching your hand over to confirm the bed is cold and that he’s not been there for a while. 

You reach for the phone on your nightstand but can’t find it. Frowning, you press your hand on the cool marble, sweeping back and forth to no avail. You lean further, finger finding the button to the light function on the stand and press down. 

Dim, lavender light halos the top of the nightstand. Your phone is nowhere in sight. It’s just your jewelry dish, a decanter for water, and your sleep medication. You’re pretty sure that you put your phone face down before you went to bed, but you can’t be sure. 

Pulling open the nightstand drawer only makes the back of your neck sweat. Your phone isn’t there, but neither is the gun you keep in the top drawer. Both you and Yijun sleep armed, despite having armed guards on the premises at all times. 

Snapping the drawer shut, you roll to the other side of the bed and pull his open. A book, a watch, some pill bottles and a pack of cigarettes fill the drawer. No gun. 

The back of your neck tingles. You rip the sheets off of you, heading to the bedroom door. The house is mostly dark when you open it, the entire second floor dim. Leaning over the banister, you can see a shaft of light falling across the room, perhaps coming from the kitchen. 

Quietly, you stalk toward the top of the stairwell, trying to reduce noise as you creep down. A high pitched whine rings in your ears, heart thundering. You have no idea why you’re so afraid all of the sudden, especially in your own house, but your instincts tell you to be alert and quiet. 

At the foot of the stairs, you confirm the light is coming from the kitchen. It’s not uncommon for people to be in the house in the middle of the night. Official Syndicate business happens at any time, and often goes into the early hours of morning. 

Tonight, it’s not busy. Before you’d gone upstairs to bed, you’d noted that it was a skeleton crew security team for the night, just a few of them at the gate house and walking the premises while you and Yijun returned upstairs for the evening alone. 

Creeping toward the hallway, you pause when you hear voices. You identify Yijun’s voice right away, holding your breath and straining your hearing as he says, “What do you want me to do here?” 

“Keep her contained. Make sure no one from her family can reach her.”

“I already took her phone and her gun.”

Your stomach drops. “Good.” That’s Minchan’s voice, you realize, dread growing tenfold. “The second she finds out the Tower has fallen, she’ll try to run or her brother will try to get her.”

“Or that psycho fuck,” Yijun mutters. 

“You’d be lucky if it was Seungcheol who came to get her. If Kwon Soonyoung comes looking, call me immediately. We’ll make our move in two hours. We’ve got the biggest team outside the Choi estate ready to go in and we’ve got men and women stationed at all the key points.”

“So I’m just supposed to sit here and babysit my wife?”

“Yes.” Minchan’s tone is nonnegotiable. “We’ll leave the guards at the gatehouse but we can’t spare anyone else. This kind of assault requires everyone. The Yong family will take care of the Pearl District and the Salt.” 

Yijun hesitates. “What about the Yoon family? Are they all accounted for?” 

“Yes. I have a team on the crazy one - what do they call her?”

“Angel, I think.”

Minchan laughs. “Demon is more fitting. Stay here. Stay by your phone. We’ll call thirty minutes before we give the signal to link everyone on comms. We do this right, and the Choi Syndicate is gone.” 

Panic presses in for a moment. Your heart hammers. Your hands shake. Bile churns your stomach. It feels like you can’t get enough air, the pieces of what they're talking about falling into place.

The Tower has fallen.

Your father is dead, and in the wake of the crushing blow, the Kim family intends to strike at yours alongside the Yong family. The realization lands like a blow, immediately slapping you out of your panic. 

Fear turns to rage. Rage turns to ice. You are fire, you are the mountain. 

Steadfast is the mountain, but the fire does burn. 

As quietly as you can, you creep up the stairs. You keep turning over your shoulder to ensure Minchan doesn’t leave the kitchen and catch you creeping back toward your bedroom. When you hit the second floor landing, you all but sprint to your room, gears turning. 

Yijun took your phone and intends to keep you locked in the house until they finish their plan. From their discussion, you know they intend to mobilize within two hours, targeting important members of the Choi Syndicate across the city with the help of the Yong family. 

It means you have only a few minutes to warn your family to respond, to prepare and to fight back or strike first. Which is hard to do without a phone, but your husband doesn’t know you nearly as well as he thinks.

Door closed behind you, you flip the lock on the bedroom door and dash for the closet. The lights above come to life, bathing you in ghoulish, grey light. You dive to the floor toward your shelf holding all of your shoes, the carpet burns nothing compared to the pain starting to bloom behind your sternum where your grief builds slowly under your anger. 

Your father is dead. The Kims are going to turn on you anyway. Your marriage to Kim Yijun to secure alliances against the Yong family was for nothing.

You’ve endured for nothing. 

Snatching a pair of boots, you swallow down the bile again. You will not break now, not when there are more important things than the time you’ve wasted withering away in this cold home. Shoving your hand inside the boot, you come into contact with what you were looking for. Your hand closes around the device, yanking it out and powering it on. 

The screen flashes to life. You press one and hold, hearing the buzz on the phone as it begins to ring. You cradle the phone against your shoulder and ear, nearly sick with the adrenaline that is pounding through you, your vision blurring, hands shaking. 

You grab another shoe, this time reaching inside carefully instead of shoving your hand in. The smooth, bone handle of a knife meets your hand and you wrap your fingers around it firmly, pulling it out. 

Soonyoung answers on the fourth ring. “Where are you?” 

“The Kim family has turned on the Chois. They’re mobilizing for a full scale attack in roughly two hours. The Yong family is helping them. They’re at the estate and all over the city - anyone who is important to us regardless of position will need to be warned. The Yong family is handling the Pearl District and the Salt.” 

“How many men are at Yijun’s estate?” You can hear him moving on the other side of the line, something rustling. Perhaps clothes as he gets dressed. “Are you armed?” 

“There are men at the guard house and one walking the perimeter. It’s just me and Yijun inside, I think Minchan is leaving. I’ve got a knife.” 

“Where are you in the house?” 

“Bedroom, second landing to the right and all the way at the end of the hall. There are windows but they don’t open.” 

“Listen to me,” Soonyoung says, voice like ice. “The second we start moving into position to accept the assault, they’ll know something is off. When that happens, Yijun is going to try to kill you, do you understand?” When you say nothing, he asks again, voice louder. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes.”

“I need you to fight back. Either kill him or hold him off until I’m there.” 

“You need to warn-”

“Don’t worry about the fucking Syndicate! We’ll be fine. You’ve given us more than enough time. I need you to be entirely focused on yourself.”

You take a deep breath, letting it out shakily. “Okay.”

“Do you have frostbyte?”

“Maybe? Yijun might have it in the nightstand.”

“Take some. Not enough to fuck you up, but enough to pump that adrenaline and make your head clear. I will be there in thirty minutes.” 

“Okay.” 

You squeeze the phone, unwilling to hang up. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t heard his voice in months. It doesn’t matter that he hates you, it doesn’t matter that you know whatever used to be between you is broken and it’s entirely your fault. You just… don’t want to hang up. 

“Hey.” Soonyoung’s voice is soft, drawing you from your trembling spiral. “Do what I said. Do the frostbyte and kill him if you have to. I have to go.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you in thirty minutes.” Soonyoung pauses, the silence heavy on the line. “I love you.” 

Nothing breaks you like those words, whispered but firm, whispered in case you die before he gets there. He doesn’t have to say that’s why he’s saying it - you know. You know the chance of him not getting there fast enough is likely and real. He does too, but instead of telling you, he gives you this. 

You whisper back, “I love you.” 

Soonyoung hangs up the phone and you fight a sob. You bring the knife up to your hand, pressing your pointer finger down on the tip. The sting is immediate, making you his in pain as blood beads on the tip of your finger, red and garish in the closet lighting. 

The sting grounds you enough to push yourself from the floor, following Soonyoung’s directions to Yijun’s nightstand. You yank it open, rattling around the contents until you find the bag of frostbyte you were hoping was there. Yijun uses it the nights he attempts to put an heir in you, numbing himself the way you never did, taking your punishment for what you’d done to Soonyoung raw.

Not enough to fuck me up, you think, untwisting the bag and shaking. Just enough to make it easier. 

Dipping the tip of your knife into the bag, you pull out a small lump of the glittering drug. You try not to think about that night at the club all those years ago, when you and Soonyoung were still dancing around one another’s feelings, doing anything you could to get a reaction out of one another. 

You take a sharp breath in. The drug hits your nasal passage and it burns, your eyes smarting as you tilt your head up, cursing and blinking away the tears. It hits the back of your throat, bitter and awful as you cough a little, trying to wait for it to clear your nasal passage.

When the burning subsides a little, you do it again. It’s less harsh than the first bump but still just as awful, making you wonder how the fuck you did this on the weekend with your friends as a teenager. Tossing the back on the nightstand, you stand waiting, closing your eyes and trying to do deep breathing exercises your therapist taught you to calm down. 

Frostbyte works fast. It hits your bloodstream and an electric calm comes over you. Everything comes into sharper focus, the adrenaline pumping as your simmering rage turns to a boil, ready to kick the fucking door down and hunt down Yijun yourself.

Nerves fade away to the background of your mind. You walk toward the door, waiting to the side so when Yijun ultimately kicks it down, you’re ready. 

Ten minutes pass. The entire time your ears are ringing, heart thundering in your chest. You think the frostbyte was a good idea - if you had to wait in silence like this without it, you would have gone crazy by now. Even with the drug, fear nips at your ankles, a hound ever on your tail. 

Yijun’s footsteps thunder up the stairs. Your heart lurches and you inch away from the door, readying yourself. He storms down the hall, fury in each step until he gets to the door and turns the handle. It doesn’t move. He tries a few more times, shaking the door. 

His roar on the other side of the door is loud and feral, making you grin as he thrashes against the door, cursing and screaming at you. The door holds, rattling in place as he slams what you think is his shoulder into it multiple times. 

The bombardment pauses for a second and then restarts ten times stronger. This time, you recognize that it’s his foot slamming into the side of the door. You realize he’s kicking where the door is latched, trying to break it open instead of kicking through it. 

A small crack sounds. You take a breath, readying yourself as you hear another snap go through the door, now rattling loose in its frame. He kicks hard again and the door blows open, nearly smacking you as it does. You roll away from it on the wall, keeping close as Yijun barrels past you, swinging his head from left to right as he looks for you.

It’s your only chance to get the jump on him. You slide from the dark, heart hammering. You’ve never stabbed anyone before, but you’ve practiced. You drive the knife upward, intending to puncture his kidneys. Yijun twists a little to the side, sensing your presence as the knife plunges into his side. 

Yijun screams. Your satisfaction only lasts a second before he throws his elbow backward, catching you in the nose. Pain explodes in your face, blinding you as your eyes water and you stumble backward hands shooting to your face. 

Removing the knife from his side, Yijun screams at you, spit flying as he comes at you. Through tears and warm blood rushing from your nose, you reach for anything to use as a weapon. Your hand closes on the ceramic artwork on the dresser and you launch it at him, hitting him hard in the face. 

The ceramic shatters and he drops the knife. You dive for it but he grabs you by the hair, ripping you upward and backward like a ragdoll. You lose your footing, screaming as he tightens his fist in your hair and drags you toward the bed, tossing you there. 

With a feral shout, you kick your foot forward, catching him in the lower gut. He grunts but wraps his hand around your ankle, yanking you back off the bed onto the floor, where the knife lays. You reach for it, seething, your hands managing to close around it just as he pivots, foot landing against your ribcage. 

Again, pain explodes inside of you. With the frostbyte, you barely recognize it, grabbing the knife and stabbing him in the calf. He shrieks and collapses to a knee, reaching for the knife. This time you rip it back out, nearly losing your grip on the bone handle, fingers slippery with blood. 

You stab him again, this time in the thigh. His knee presses into your stomach, crushing you and forcing air from your lungs. You ignore the pain, stabbing him again and again in the thigh until he falls backward off of you, muscles malfunctioning, tendons give away. 

Yijun kicks out at you with his good leg but you’re already moving, ignoring the way your body is screaming in utter agony, every part of you throbbing and begging you to give up. 

You don’t. You scramble on top of him. His hands shoot up to your throat but you spit at him, a spray of blood blinding him and making his grip loosen momentarily. It’s enough to bring the knife down home again, this time directly in the juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

For a second, he fights back. You hear the wet gasp and he thrashes, but you stab him again. And again and again and again and again -

You think about all of the times that you were forced to submit to him. 

And again and again and again - 

The way he heaved himself on top of you, trying to force a child into you so he could be done with you, the way you’d wish it had been Soonyoung instead. 

And again and again and again - 

The way Soonyoung’s face broke that morning, begging you not to do this to him. 

And again and again and again -

All for the Kim family to turn on the Choi’s anyway, wasting the entire time you’ve spent under lock and key, doing Yijun’s bidding while Soonyoung hated you. Loathed you. Wish you never happened to him. 

Again and AGAINANDAGAINANDAGAINAND- 

Yijun isn’t moving under you. Your hand is warm and wet, the knife becoming slippery as you let it go. It clatters to the floor and you sit backward on his knees. He’s unmoving as you heave, sucking down air that tastes like iron and salt. 

Sweat slicks the back of your neck and down your spine. Somewhere in the house, there’s a crashing noise. You leap for the knife, rolling off of Yijun’s mutilated body toward the door, positioning yourself in a defensive position as feet thunder up the stairs. 

You bare your teeth, knowing this is it. Knowing Soonyoung hasn’t come quickly enough but it doesn’t matter, because you warned them and they are safe. Your penance for destroying him has been paid in half, though never full, and -

Soonyoung appears in the doorway. He looks like an angel from hell, wreathed in shallow light that comes from the first floor, his silver hair stained with blood. He’s in black trousers and a short-sleeve shirt with his favorite band on it - one of his sleep shirts. 

For less than a second, he stares at you. Then, Soonyoung dives at you, dropping the gun in his head and grabbing you. You hadn’t realized that you’d sunk to your knees, looking up at him as he grabs your face, turning you this way and that. He’s asking you a question but you can’t understand him, dizzy and confused and in so much pain that the edge of your vision wavers. 

“Baby,” Soonyoung begs, his voice warped and echoey. “Hey, I need you to answer me. Where are you bleeding?” 

“S’mostly his,” you answer, feeling how heavy your tongue is. Your thoughts are sticky and slow. Concussed, you think. “Maybe broke my nose.” 

Soonyoung’s thumb brushes gently across your cheek, smearing blood. “Can you walk if I help you?”  You think about it. Shake your head. “Okay. I’m going to lift you up, alright? Tell me where it hurts so I don’t hurt you, Baby.” 

“Ribs.” 

“Left or right?” 

You pause, breathing in and feeling the pain bloom. “Right.” 

“Okay, tell me if I hurt you, okay? We’re going to take you home.”

“Thank you.” Soonyoung hesitates at your tone, looking at you. His eyes are vulnerable and open, more raw than you have seen them since you were kids. “You didn’t have to come get me.” 

He stares and stares at you. The world fades a little and Soonyoung lifts you toward him. “Of course I did,” he murmurs, so soft you barely hear what he’s saying. “When you say jump, remember?”

“Where's this?” You mumble, looking out the window at a small home behind high gates.

Soonyoung has been driving for an hour and a half, his silence nearly unbearable as you both left the city. You don’t ask about where you’re going or if everyone is okay - you don’t think you can stomach the answers right now. Not while in the car. 

Rain mists through the window as Soonyoung rolls it down to punch in a code in front of the gate. It flashes green and the metal starts to roll open, revealing a large but modest house - at least by Syndicate standards. He drives through, gravel crunching beneath the tires. 

“Safe House. Very few people know it exists.” 

“Are we in Levin?” He nods his head. You’ve never been to the small town, but you know it’s mostly a vacation village on the coast. “Who does this place belong to?” 

“Me.” You look at him, surprised. “I bought it when you… got engaged.” 

It’s like a stone sinking to the bottom of your stomach. You don’t have to ask why. It was his failsafe for you, a way to get you away from Yijun if you had just asked. 

You should have asked. Should have just thrown it away and called him, should have begged him from your knees- 

Soonyoung turns the car off and opens the door. You open yours, rain pattering against your red skin. He rushes to help you out of the car, hands hovering around you, unsure where to touch. It makes you want to sob. You want him to touch you anywhere - everywhere. 

Instead, he leads you to the house, a hand wrapped firmly around your forearm to keep you upright and steady as you walk up the steps. 

A porch light flickers on. You cringe away from the brightness, squinting through your fingers as the door opens to reveal Vernon standing on the other side. His eyes flicker between the two of you and he nods, stepping to the side to let you in. 

Warmth blankets you as Soonyoung shuts the door. You’re standing in a small entryway with a staircase to the right leading to the second floor. Straight on, the lights are on, revealing a sliver of the living room. You can hear voices pause as they hear the door shut. 

Angel materializes in the doorway, her hair damp. She’s dressed down like she recently showered, her eyes on you as she heaves a sigh of relief. “It’s Hoshi and Baby,” she calls over her shoulder, coming forward. 

Soonyoung nudges you toward Angel gently. “Take her to shower.” 

“Yeah of course.” 

“Where’s Seungcheol?” You ask, turning to look at Soonyoung, who is already looking at his phone, holoscreen lighting up his face. 

“On his way. The main crew is safe.” He hesitates. “We lost Lan, Old Man Vero and Yoon Minji.” 

Your heart seizes, eyes darting to Angel. “Angel, I’m-”

“Jeonghan is taking care of it.” For the first time in years, you hear a note of pain in her voice, raw and real. Angel has - had - a complicated relationship with her step-mother, the matriarch of the Yoong family. “I’ve already satiated my vengeance. This is his. Come on.” 

You hesitate. Soonyoung nudges you toward the stairs gently by the hip, suddenly looking tired. “Go. I’m going to find a doctor for that nose.” 

“Is it terrible?” 

He huffs, trying not to laugh. “No, but it needs to be fixed. Go. Shower.” 

I love you. It’s on the tip of your tongue, right there. I love you. It’s all you can think about, thundering in your ribcage. I love you. It consumes you, makes you freeze up, staring at him. I love you. 

Angel tugs your wrist delicately and breaks the spell. You follow her up the stairs. She’s careful with you, making you take one step at a time. You don’t think you’ve ever seen her so gentle, her eyes softened with worry and her touch on you delicate as butterfly wings. 

Upstairs, she leads you into a room that smells like vanilla and sandalwood. Soonyoung. This room belongs to Soonyoung. You spot his subtle touches, a gaming computer shoved in the corner and powered off. A closet with a metal door that is under lock and key. A single gun sitting on top of the nightstand. 

But what makes the room spin is the touches of you. A teakwood candle sitting on the dresser. Weighted blankets folded at the end of the bed. A bookshelf with all your favorite titles. A jar of saltwater taffy in multiple flavors. 

Angel hesitates by the bathroom door, watching you drink in the room. You turn to her, shaking your head, confused and mouth open. She nods. “I know. I didn’t know either.” 

“I could live and die a thousand times and never deserve him.” 

“I’m not the best judge of character, but I don’t think I believe that to be true.” 

Angel isn’t the best judge of character. But she also doesn’t say things she does not mean. She’s the last person in the world to offer words of comfort, and yet she’s standing in the bathroom staring at you like she can see through you, right down to the very core. 

Maybe she can. Seeing what is rotting people on the inside and sniffing out their weaknesses is what she does best. 

Instead of pointing out where you hurt, she manages to get you into the bathroom. It’s spacious but not grand like what you’re used to - it’s small. Safe. She starts the shower and backs away, helping you get out of your bloody clothing. 

Everything hurts so bad. Your ribs ache, the bruising on them blotchy and horrendous as Angel peels back your shirt. She thankfully doesn’t react - she’s seen worse and done worse. Suddenly, you realize why Soonyoung picked her to help you. She’s steady, her fingers sure as she holds your arm while you pull your pants down.

You don’t dare look in the mirror. From what you can see without it, it’s already bad enough. Yijun hadn’t dealt fatal damage, but you know you’re bruised and covered in dry, flaking blood. 

Angel leaves you in the shower, shutting the door to go sit on the sink, a guardian willing to give you space but ready to help when you need it. Shaking, you shuffle into the stream of hot water, hissing when it hits your skin. 

It’s both heaven and hell. The hot water feels so good on your aching muscles and throbbing pain, but it also hurts when the water taps against your nose, reminding you that it is indeed broken. You suck in sharp air as you slowly begin to work your fingers into your skin, turning the water pink as you wash off the blood. 

Blood that belongs to you. Blood that belongs to Yijun.

Yijun. 

You’re not sorry you killed him. It was satisfying and necessary. But… the weight of your grief comes crashing into you. You could have killed him years ago and ran. Could have gone crawling back to Soonyoung and asked for his help. Could have told him that the only reason you ever agreed to marry him in the first place was to protect him. 

None of it mattered. You bought him a paltry couple years worth of protection and for what? To shackle yourself to a man who thought little of you, who wanted to fuck you until you gave him another version of himself, who wanted to kill you at every moment because he knew you didn’t respect him and because he was afraid of you and the way you command respect from your family, but he never did.

All that time you’d made yourself smaller for him. Held back your bite. Hid your teeth. Mourned Soonyoung everyday, knowing that you’d never touch him again, that he would never kiss you again, that you’d never wake up in the morning when he got home from work and crawled into bed with you.

A potential lifetime of happiness, one of your own making, wasted on a promise that they broke anyway. 

For nothing. It had been for nothing, you’d hurt Soonyoung for nothing, shut him out, promised you would never leave him and threw him away, forced him to jump for you, forced him to leave you when he said he wouldn’t all for nothing nothing nothing nothing notHING NOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHINGNOTHING-

Angel’s arms are around you. You startle, looking up to see that she is in the shower fully clothed, holding you to her. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying - screaming - in the shower. She presses you closer to her, the only way she knows how to tell you that she’s got you. She’s there. She understands. 

You crumble, leaning heavily on her as you let it out, sobbing. Your throat is raw, your face throbbing each time you squeeze your eyes shut. Angel says nothing, content to hold you while her clothes soak up the water, weighing her down as you let out your grief in full, ugly waves. 

Eventually, the water starts to get cold and your tears start to dry up. You sniff and groan, the pain in your face so poignant that it can’t be ignored. Lifting your head from her shoulder, you glance at her boots, soaked and murky red around the edges.

“Can I tell you something?” Angel asks, voice low. You nod. She hesitates, putting the words together before she says, “He’s going to accept you back. He’s going to do it with no conditions, and ask nothing of you. You’re going to want to torture yourself and beg for his forgiveness and deny yourself of him because you think you should be punished, that there is not a god powerful enough to hurt you the way you deserve.”

You blink in surprise. Angel isn’t religious, despite the nickname. She also isn’t overly emotional or wordy. But you see the severity in which she tells you this, see the pain in her eyes. You remember that she has demons far older than yours, ones that have followed her since childhood. 

And she’s right. She reads you like a book, seeing the fucking pain radiating inside of you, the desire to be punished and hated and whipped- 

“Let him take you back.” Her words are firm. “Don’t make him punish you. Don’t believe for a second that Soonyoung wants to make you pay. He doesn’t. He doesn’t care what you did or why. Just… let him have you. You’ve endured enough.” 

You nod. “Alright. I’ll try.”

“Good. Um - can we get out of the shower though? It’s very cold in here.” 

You laugh, immediately followed by a groan. “Please don’t make me laugh. I am in so much pain.” 

“Yeah, let’s go get you some drugs, dude.” 

The three Syndicates of the city are officially at war. Of all the news that has poured in over the last few days, this is the least surprising. When you’d seen Seungcheol that first night after everything went to hell, he’d held you close and promised that he would kill every last Kim in the city.

He had also told you he was proud of you. Not just for surviving Yijun long enough for Soonyoung to come get you, but for being able to warn the family what was coming. Your single warning alone had saved them a great deal and wounded the Kim Syndicate more than you could understand. 

The days following your father’s death are strange. It doesn’t feel like he’s dead - at least, you haven’t truly processed it yet. There are things that demand your attention like being seen by Dr. Ymir for your fractured nose and bruised ribs, and the accounts and logistics of what being at war with the Kim and Yong family truly means. 

On the fifth day at the safe house, you go back home. Seungcheol makes you ride with him, unwilling to let you out of his sight these days. You’re the only two members of the Choi family left, and it’s up to the two of you to rally the troops and remind everyone what the mountain can do. 

Seungcheol replaces your father as the Tower of the Choi Syndicate. Typically there’s a small ceremony to pass the torch so to speak, but there’s no time for that. Seungcheol is buried in problems and trying to maneuver the family into a favorable position, but it’s hard - the Yongs and Kims have been preparing this for a while. 

You’re suddenly given a job again. Fresh in his position leading the family, Seungcheol needs those he trusts by his side, immediately appointing you as the Architect of the Syndicate. There’s no one he trusts more with the finances and the logistics of the businesses under the Choi banner and who have pledged to his family. 

With Yoon Minji’s death, Jeonghan’s takes his rightful side as the Wisdom and second in command to Seungcheol. It’s like you’d always known it would be as a kid, but it brings you no joy to see the two of them together in an office until the early hours of the morning, worn at the edges and sick with the grief they’re ignoring to push forward. 

With no surprise, Seungcheol immediately promotes Soonyoung to the lead military position, rising from Sword to Sentinel in a single night. It’s the same position his father held under your father, and Soonyoung takes it with steely resolve. 

It also means you don’t see him. You move back into your old room at home. At first, it doesn’t feel like your room at all because Soonyoung isn't in it. He had moved into your room when you first started dating, spending two years in that bed with you. Now, he’s taken up residence in his room down the hall, so close and yet the distance feels larger than ever. 

Of all the problems mounting for you to solve, Soonyoung is the most important. You know he shouldn’t be. There are a thousand other things that you need to figure out, like how to assure that the businesses you own in and near the Kim and Yong family territories won’t go under or be attacked, or how to assure that payment to the family won’t increase now that there’s a fight. 

Your days are filled with countless meetings, assuring loyal patrons that the Choi Syndicate will not fall and will not fail them, and that the Choi’s protect their own. You can see the fear in people’s eyes - the city hasn’t had the big three at war in a long time. Already the city officials are cracking down on Syndicate activity to try and establish order. 

It’s farcical at best. 

Squeezing your temples between your fingers, you lean back from the desk in your newly appointed office - which is really just your father’s. It feels weird to be in here. It still smells like leather and sweet tobacco, a little bit of smoke hanging in the air. 

The last time you’d been in this office, you’d fallen to your knees and begged him not to make you marry Kim Yijun. Now you sit at the desk, hanging up the phone as another call ends - not as bad as the first, but not as good as you’d hoped. 

Quickly, you scribble down a summary of the call to give to Seungcheol. You know he’ll read every word you write, determined to hear each concern of those under Choi patronage, whether they’re valid or not. 

At the sound of the door opening, you glance up. Soonyoung sticks his head in, surprising you. You straighten in your seat, heart racing when you take him in. His silver hair has grown longer, tapered a bit at the neck. He’s dressed in all black but he’s clean, indicating that he showered not that long ago. You thought he would be out all day like usual, looking at your watch to see he’s back far earlier than normal.

“Is everything alright?” You start to get up and he rushes to you, hands lifting to help you. “I’m alright. I am well on the mend.”

He chews his lip, nodding before dropping his hands hesitantly. “Everything’s fine I just.” He hesitates. “Do you want to eat lunch?” 

“Oh. Sure.”

Soonyoung’s smile is tentative. Shy. You give him one back, following him out of the office while sending a quick note to Jihoon that you’ll meet with him later. He sends a thumbs down back, less than pleased that you’ve not made time to talk to him about your potential murder charges for Yijun. 

“Are you busy? We don’t have to-”

“It’s just Jihoon.” 

“Ah. He’s persistent, are you sure-”

“I want to have lunch with you, Soonyoung.” 

He blushes and you grin. “Alright,” he murmurs. “When you say jump and all that.” 

That makes you pause. “You don’t have to do anything I tell you.” 

“What?” He stops walking, confused. 

“You don’t have to ask how high if I tell you to jump... I’m wrong a lot of the time. I don’t… want to be that.” 

I don’t want to repeat my mistakes. You don’t say it, but you think Soonyoung senses it when he says, “I’ve always wanted to jump for you. That hasn’t changed.” 

Let him take you back. Don’t make him punish you. 

Angel’s words come back to you so you swallow down your guilt and you nod, giving him a tentative smile that he returns. This time, he holds out his hand to take you in the kitchen. You take it, the feeling of his fingers wrapping around yours both foreign and familiar. 

The way he holds your hand in his makes you tremble. It’s something so simple and benign and yet you’re screaming on the inside, looking at where your fingers twine together like it’s everything, like it’s the only thing. 

Lunch consists of very badly burned grilled cheese. You don’t care because Soonyoung makes it, insistent that he wants to and that he can. He’s good at a lot of things, particularly on the spectrum of murder and weapons, but he is terrible at putting bread, cheese and butter in a pan. 

You eat it anyway, burnt bread and all. He sits next to you, his stool pulled so close that your thighs touch. You want to reach out and brush your fingers across his face, down his neck, through his hair. You want to touch until you’re grabbing, grab until you’re pulling. 

Instead, you let him lead this dance, too afraid to initiate. 

Let him take you back. Don’t make him punish you. 

You don’t, but you can’t let go of the fear of rejection. Can’t bring yourself to toe the line beyond what he’s giving you, which is more than you ever dreamed of. So you accept when he offers to take your plate, fingers brushing over the top of your hand either by design or by accident you don’t know. His touch makes you shiver and he notices, pausing. 

Slowly, you look up at Soonyoung. His eyes are dark and misty as ever, churning with emotion that you’re a little too afraid to read. Instead of taking the plates to the sink, he sets them down and reaches for you, cradling your face in his hands. 

A sob works its way up your throat but you force it down. You will not cry over this. You will not make him comfort you. 

“Are you afraid to touch me?” His question is gentle. You nod, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb brushes back and forth across your cheekbone. “Why?” 

“I… want to so badly. I just want it to be your choice.” 

“I want you to.” You open your eyes. His earnestness is right on the surface of him, rippling for you to see. “I’m dying for it. Please.” 

Soonyoung’s please sounds like that morning he’d begged you all that time ago. It freezes you in place, heart beating like a prey animal in fight or flight. He steps closer, his breath on your forehead when he whispers, “Please.” 

Slowly, you bring your hands up to his wrists. Licking your lips, you place your hands on him. His eyes close. His skin is warm to the touch and you feel him tremble as you brush your hands upward, tracing his forearms, his corded biceps. You brush your fingertips over the sleeves of his shirt and toward his neck until you’re cupping his throat, your thumbs resting against his hammering pulse. 

You close your eyes, remaining still. Both of you remain that way, his hands on your face, yours on his neck. You’re shaking under his touch, feel his breath against your forehead. His fingers add a little pressure to your face, careful not to hurt you where your bruise is finally fading on your nose as he turns you to look up at him. 

Soonyoung licks his lips, eyes open. “There is not a second I didn’t love you.”

And there it is. The admission that he never hated you. You bet he tried - you know he tried. You know the inside of Soonyoung’s soul better than you know your own, no part of him hidden to you even with time. 

“I don’t care why you did it,” he continues. “Not anymore. Not after everything. I don’t care about any of it. I just… want you.”

“Soonyoung-”

“I know you’re sorry. I know you hate yourself. I know there is guilt eating away at you. Get over it, because none of it changes how I feel. I love you. You’re mine. I don’t want to leave you again. You cannot make me.” 

“I know. I won’t make you.” 

“Good.” Soonyoung presses his forehead to yours gently. He’s careful not to knock noses with you too hard, aware of the pain it’ll cause. “I cannot do any of this without you.” 

“I know.”

Soonyoung’s mouth is tentative when it presses against yours. Your grip on him tightens, leaning forward into the kiss. It is everything - the only thing. You feel something wet on your face, thinking that you’ve got another nosebleed, but when you pull away, you realize it’s because Soonyoung is crying.

Crying for the first time since his parents died. 

You stand up from the stool, gripping the back of his neck to pull him toward you. He melts under your touch, letting you meld your mouths together. He tastes like his burnt sandwich and like him, his mouth warm and wet against yours. Vanilla and sandalwood invade your senses, overwhelming as you grip him for dear life, never wanting to let him go.

He doesn’t want to let you go either. His grip on your hips is crushing, fingers digging into flesh and bone as though he can force you to become one. The thought makes you dizzy. You slide your fingers in his silk-soft hair, wrapping the strands around them to pull lightly, pull him closer, pull him to you, pull him back. 

Soonyoung whines against your mouth and you break the kiss, panting. “Take me upstairs,” you whisper between peppering kissing against his mouth, his bottom lip, the corner of his lips. “Please take me upstairs.” 

He does. Soonyoung grabs you by the hands, tugging you toward the stairs that lead to your room - the room you used to share. The room that still smells like him, even if faintly. He takes you to your bed, where you’ve spent hundreds of nights with him, and lays you down gently like he has a million times before. 

Soonyoung touches you like you’re holy. His hands skim over you in worship, they scratch you in penance, they hold you in reverence. He slots himself between your knees, stealing a kiss from you like it’ll breathe new life into him, bare him anew, purge him of sin. 

You love him. You love him you love him you love him you love him you love him -

A moan leaves his mouth when your nails drag down his back. He is quaking under your touch, his mouth hungry but careful against yours, wanting to swallow you whole but knowing you’re hurt. You know he won’t break you but you wish he would.

There’s time for that later. Now isn’t the time for rough and biting. Now, Soonyoung peels the shirt from your skin, immediately covering your arms, chest, collarbones, shoulders in kisses. You vibrate under his touch, lashes fluttering as he sucks at the sensitive skin of your neck, tongue pressed flat to your pulse as he tastes you. 

You tug at his shirt and he complies, leaning upward to toss it. He’s back on you in a second, pressing you close, hip to hip as he tangles his tongue with yours, drinking you in. His touch ignites a fire and you’re burning, a complete inferno as you drag your fingers up the hard contour of his stomach to the firmness of his chest and around to his shoulders. 

“I love you,” he mutters against your mouth, rolling his hips into you. You let out a breathy sound and he groans. “Fuck I love you. I missed you. I love you.” 

“Please,” you beg. He understands, burying his face in your neck and biting down lightly. You feel like you’re going to burn up under him, an out of control blaze while his fingers work the buttons on your pants. “Never let me go.”

“Never.” 

Jeans scrape down your legs, his hands following. He drags his blunt nails down your thighs. Your hips twitch upward, loving the scratch, loving the way he touches you, loving him. He returns his mouth to yours, unable to get enough of your kissing. 

Soonyoung’s hand slips between your thighs, the pads of his fingers pressing against your clit through your underwear. You keen for him, pulling at the long strands of hair at the back of his neck. He moans in tandem, his pleasure driven by yours, loving the way you sound as you start to come apart under the gentle circle of his fingers. 

He only teases you a little, knowing the friction with the fabric between his fingers and your aching cunt isn’t enough. He finally decides that you’ve had enough, hooking a finger to pull them aside, the cool air hitting your sticky folds. 

Before you can complain, Soonyoung’s touch is there. He drags his fingers slow-soft from top to bottom, circling your clit slowly. He’s not in a hurry, dragging it out as he sucks your tongue into his mouth, sliding his fingers back down to press against your entrance but not breach it. 

You whine and he grins, pulling your bottom lip with his teeth until he lets go with a pop. “I love those sounds you make.” 

“Feels good,” you admit, head falling to the side as you close your eyes, enjoying the pressure he puts on your clit, wiggling his fingers back and forth. Your thighs close around his hand but he’s unbothered, drawing more arousal from you as he plays. “Fuck, your fingers.” 

His laugh is throaty and he shakes his head, attaching his mouth to your jaw where he sucks at the skin. He makes himself comfortable with nibbling toward your neck, both of his hands reaching for the sides of your underwear to pull them down. You let him, folding your knees toward your for a moment to help. 

Soonyoung’s hand returns to the wetness between your legs except this time, he’s not teasing. He presses a finger in deep and you whine, hips wiggling. You squeeze down on his finger, pussy spasming as he begins to pump leisurely, like he has all the time in the world.

And he does, doesn’t he? The work is far from done and the world is falling apart, but it doesn’t matter because he’s here with you. Because Soonyoung is yours again - always has been - and because he’s drawing your mouth toward his to kiss you messily, swallowing down your moans as he presses in another finger. 

Now you crumble beneath him. You can’t stop your hips from coming off the bed. You loop your arms around his neck, keeping him close, breathing the same air. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes impossible dark and half-lidded as he hooks his fingers, dragging them against that sensitive spot. 

You cry out his name and he grins. Now he knows where it is, pressing repeatedly as he fucks you on his fingers, driving you directly toward an orgasm. Your breathing becomes labored, your legs squeezing his hips, your fingers digging into his shoulders. It is so good that you think you might die, letting him yank you toward release. 

Soonyoung kisses you again and you come crashing down, cumming around his fingers, body squeezing, ignoring the ache in your ribs and the millions of other places that you’re sore. He doesn’t slow down, scissoring his fingers to pry you open, to stretch you more.

“Soonyoung,” you gasp, voice wrecked. “Soonyoung Soonyoung Soonyoung.” 

“Just like that,” he agrees. You can tell he loves the way you say his name, knows that on your tongue it means something different. “Come on, one more.” 

You’ll give him anything he wants. Never again will you deny him. You let him work you up again, feeling the way your breath gets stuck in your lungs and you shiver, another wave washing through you as you shudder around his fingers. 

When you start to pant, he pulls his fingers out. You feel the wet schlick as he does, immediately hating the way you feel empty, hating the way he leans away from you. Whining, you reach out toward him, needy. He hushes you with a brief kiss, only standing to rid himself of his jeans and briefs. 

Using the fingers covered in your arousal, Soonyoung pumps his cock, smearing a mixture of your slick and his precum down his shaft as he kneels on the bed again, taking his place between your thighs again. You watch with hooded eyes as he rubs the head of his cock through your messy folds, a moan dripping from your lips. 

Soonyoung is beautiful, skin flushed and a sheen of sweat on his arms. His stomach flexes and clenches as he presses the tip of his cock into your entrance, both of you taking a shaky breath together. He slowly slides home, the stretch of him driving you wild, pussy fluttering around him until he’s slotted to the hilt. 

He hangs his head, panting as he plants his hands on either side of your head. He takes a moment to collect himself, shaking. You turn your head to the side, kissing his wrist, peppering any skin you can reach with your love while your hands drift up his back, feeling the muscles flex. 

When he begins to move, you nearly die. It feels so good, your breath lodged in your throat. He lowers his face to yours, kissing you as gently as he fucks you. His thrusts are deep and timed, not hard or fast but slow and measured, pressing all the way in as he uses his weight to his advantage. 

Your fingers turn to talons on his back, nails biting his shoulder blades. He’s precise, the tip of his cock finding the right angle to make you nearly sob in a matter of a few thrusts. It’s familiar. Home. 

Soonyoung lowers himself to his forearms, pressing your chests together. The friction of his skin against your pert nipples makes you squeeze around him, his name a whisper on swollen, kiss-bitten lips. He presses his forehead to yours, breathing shakily as he continues to fuck you.

You feel him everywhere, feel everything that he wants to say. Soonyoung has never needed words to communicate to you and he doesn’t now, the way he shakes as he lets out a wispy moan enough, the way he slides one of his arms under your back to cradle you to his chest, closer closer closer.

He wants to be closer and so do you, arms around his neck, drawing him to you. You never want to let him go, never will let him go. You’ve learned your lesson and this, right here with him is the only thing that matters. 

“Shh,” he hushes. You realize you’re crying, tasting salt on your lips when he brushes his mouth against yours. “I know.” 

“I love you.”

“I know.” 

Soonyoung’s pace picks up only a little bit. It’s enough, sending you careening toward your third orgasm. He can feel it - needs it. He chases after your high, catching your mouth to brush his tongue against yours, rolling his hips until you’re clenching around him, whining into his mouth, lips buzzing against his.

He hums against you, waiting until your pussy lets go of its vice grip to speed up a little bit, the wet smack of his hips against yours loud and lewd, driving him forward until he comes, your name on his lips, his face buried in your neck. His thrusts slow, both of you trembling like leaves until he finally stops, remaining seated inside of you. 

“I will love you for a thousand lifetimes,” he mutters against your mouth, with no intention of moving. “You know that, right Baby?” 

You nod, fingers digging into his shoulder blades. “Leave me at your own peril, Kwon Soonyoung,” you rasp, quoting yourself that first night he finally caved, where he finally told you that he couldn’t exist without you. “I will never go anywhere ever again.” 

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SYNDICATE ROLES

Tower - title for a Syndicate boss Wisdom - title for the second-in-command to a Sydnicate boss Architect - title for the main business affairs and political tactician Sentinel - title for the main military leader of a Syndicate Riots - title for a member of the Syndicate responsible for sowing discord Swords - title for a member of the Syndicate who is a fighter/military role Chariots - members of the Syndicate who make deals/act as business brokers Rooks - members of the Syndicate who collect debts/lead the extortion practices Justices - members of the Syndicate on the legal counsel Hanged Men - members of the Syndicate who betrayed their Syndicate Watchers - members of a Syndicate who are spies/informants Patrons - citizens who pay homage/have an alliance/are under the protection of a Syndicate Vanguard - official members of the Syndicate who don't have specific roles but do work for the Syndicate

[seungkw1]

love me right — ksy

♡ pairing: roommate!hoshi x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], humor ♡ wc: 4.1k ♡ warnings: oral (f. & m. receiving), unprotected piv sex (do not do this), multiple orgasms, a lil spit play, head pushing, thigh riding, somnophilia, cum eating/swallowing, cumming in pants, like 2 seconds of angst, praise kink, hs is down bad for reader, gendered pet names (baby, good girl, pretty girl, etc), bit of fluff at the end ♡ a/n: this is part 2 to make me !! finally got this written hope yall like <3

Ever since you sort-of-accidentally had sex with your roommate for the first time, he’s been nothing but a fucking menace. 

Not in a bad way - no, despite the fact that he's kind of an actual insane person he's always been and continues to be a very considerate and agreeable roommate. There's no problem with your living arrangements. 

The problem is how fucking insatiable he has become. 

You previously never thought there could be such a thing as too many orgasms, but Soonyoung really is testing your limits. You've never had so much sex in your life - and you're not mad about it by any means. But your roommate-turned-friend with benefits is absolutely, utterly, wholeheartedly obsessed with having his entire face buried in your pussy at all possible times. And you love every second of it. 

Sure, sometimes your clit kinda feels like it's gonna fall off. Most of the time you've barely recovered from the last set of two, three, four orgasms (the current record is six, a record he's determined to beat) before he’s back between your legs again. But the constant cunnilingus leaves you more sensitive than ever before - and the more you squirm beneath his tongue and scream and cry as he takes you to paradise, the more it gets him off. One time you were wailing his name so much that he actually came in his pants, fully hands-free. The man simply worships you. 

You've had various kink-related conversations over the past couple months of nonstop boinking, as these things come up. You wouldn't necessarily say Soonyoung is into anything too crazy (besides the occasional burst of tiger roleplay, anyway), but so far he's been enthusiastically down for everything you've expressed interest in. He’s the very definition of matching one’s freak. 

“You know what would be hot?” Soonyoung asks you one day, approximately two minutes after you woke up and emerged from your room.

“Good morning to you too,” you tell him through a sleepy yawn.

“What if,” he continues anyway, “hypothetically, I were to wake you up one day by eating you out?”

“Soonyoung is it nine in the morning,” you reply as you give him a dull glare. You go to make yourself a cup of coffee, but he extends a full mug to you. You take the cup - it’s fresh, piping hot. 

“Oh, thanks,” you say, surprised by the kind gesture.

“So?” he prods, eagerly awaiting your reply.

“I mean, yeah, I wouldn’t be mad about that,” you answer with a small shrug.

“NOICE,” he exclaims, pumping his fist in the air.

“BUT-” you quickly add. “That cannot be an everyday thing.”

“Right, of course not,” he agrees with a nod. “Soooo, when can I try it?”

“Well, I can’t tell you that,” you reply straightforwardly. “It’s supposed to be a surprise, that would like, defeat the whole point.”

A wide grin spreads across his face, but he shakes it off right away, playing it cool. 

“Okay cool, well I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, grabbing your hand and shaking it vigorously. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

You roll your eyes at him. 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” you gibe, but your face cracks into a smile. He pulls you in and kisses you. 

“Love you too.”

You freeze. 

You may have been intimate with him more times than you can count, but your relationship is strictly casual. You only kiss when you're fucking, and the words I love you have never once been uttered by either of you. You know he probably was saying it facetiously, but the way he said it was so nonchalant. So… realistic. You stare at him for a second, not knowing how to respond. His smile slowly drops. 

“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes. His ears immediately turn red with embarrassment. 

“No no it’s fine,” you babble, trying to backtrack. “I just wasn't expecting…”

“I was just kidding,” he responds. Then his eyes widen. “I mean not like that, it's not that-”

“It’s fine!!” you quickly interject before he can say anything else. “I know what you mean.”

“Sorry,” he murmurs again. He suddenly realizes he's still holding onto your hand - he swiftly lets go. 

“Thanks for the coffee,” you tell him politely with a smile, trying to change the subject. 

“Of course,” he replies, trying to smile back at you, but you can tell he's still sulky. He departs from the kitchen without saying another word. He emerges from his room about a minute later in athletic gear, his gym bag slung over his shoulder. 

“Off to workout already? I thought you were going this afternoon” you inquire, but he's already breezing past you. 

“Yeah, Mingyu just texted me and wanted to meet earlier,” he answers as he grabs his keys. 

It’s a bad lie, and you both know it. But you don't press him further. 

“Okay, have fun!” you say cheerfully. But an air of tension remains. 

“Thanks,” he replies, turning back to glance at you for only a brief second. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “Soonyo-”

He's out the door before you have a chance to finish even saying his name. 

You stand there for a few moments, staring at the front door, wondering if you've just fucked everything up. You didn't mean to, of course. You were just so taken aback by the stupid L word. It's not something you ever expected to hear coming from Soonyoung’s lips, not about you anyways. But now it has you thinking. Was he simply joking around? Or does he actually have… feelings for you?

A small blip of a thought enters your mind: and do you have feelings for him?

You push it away before you can think about it any further. 

The next few days are undoubtedly a bit awkward. Soonyoung is clearly avoiding you - not in a malicious way, but he just so happens to have business elsewhere whenever you're at home. 

You're mildly annoyed, but more so you're feeling gloomy about the whole situation. You never meant to do anything to push him away - near-constant fucking aside, Soonyoung truly is a good friend. And now you find yourself missing him. 

After an entire week of this nonsense, you decide to confront him. You pretend to be going to sleep, anticipating that he’ll spend some time alone in the common area. A few minutes later your hunch is confirmed when you hear the tv come on, its volume low. You quietly open your door and sneak into the living room. You approach the couch slowly from behind - when you arrive at it, you jump around and plop down next to Soonyoung. 

“FUCK,” he yelps, nearly jumping out of his seat.  “You scared me!”

“I'm horny,” you tell him bluntly, scooting up next to him. “Let me suck your dick.”

Soonyoung stares at you, looking into your eyes that are now mere inches from his. You can tell he desperately wants to say yes, but he resists. You give him a flirty look, trying to entice him. 

“Pleaseeeee?”

“Well, I was gonna watch a movie…” his sentence trails off, unfinished. He tries to shift his focus away from you, but his eyes keep flickering back to yours. 

“Seriously?” you ask, crossing your arms. “Since when do you turn down head?” 

“Y/n…”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't. 

“Yes?”

He looks you in the eyes again, then sighs. 

“I dunno, I’m just not in the mood right now,” he finally answers. He looks away sullenly. 

“Are you okay?”

He looks back at you. He clearly wants to tell you something, but he hesitates. 

“About the other day…” he finally speaks. He pauses, in case you have something to say. You don’t; he continues.

“I didn't mean to make things weird. When I said that I loved you.”

“You didn't,” you assure him. You note that he didn’t say anything about it not being true, but you try to ignore that right now. 

You take his hand in yours, patting it softly. He looks at you, surprised by the gesture. 

“I was being weird, that's on me.”

His mood cautiously lightens. “You sure?” he verifies. 

“100%,” you say with a nod. He smiles at you. 

“Now will you please put your dick in my mouth?” you request again, looking into his eyes seductively.  

A smile creeps onto his face. 

“I mean if you're gonna be this fucking hot…”

You give him a mischievous smirk. You tug at his tshirt; he immediately takes it off. He groans as you grab his dick through his sweatpants, his cock starting to harden instantly in response. One thing about Soonyoung - you can do the bare minimum and he’ll have a boner within five seconds. You lick your lips, stroking him slowly through the soft gray fabric. He lets out a deep exhale, relieved by your touch - it had only been a week, but he missed you badly. He craved your touch, craved how insane you make him feel. He drops his head back, his legs spreading as he settles into the couch, shifting his pelvis up so you have full access to his groin. You rub your hand over the thick bulge, squeezing and pulling lightly, causing him to let out a pathetic-sounding moan. He is putty in your hands. 

About a minute more of your over-the-pants handjob and Soonyoung is rock fucking hard. You slide off the couch, taking to your knees between his spread thighs. You pull at the elastic waistband, tugging it down over the pulsating bulge in his underwear. You place your mouth on him through the fabric, letting him feel your lips, your hot breath on him. 

“Stop teasing me,” he begs after you plant several more kisses on his clothed dick. “Please.”

You gaze up at him, your eyes filled with lust. You reach into his underwear, retrieving his cock, prompting further pathetic moaning. He is leaking with precum - you take him in your fist, stroking up and down at a pace that he finds painfully slow. You place your lips atop the head, lightly sucking up his juices. He cries out as you then swirl your tongue over his tip.

“Aaaah,” he groans, his voice turning gravelly.

You grab his balls and take the rest of the head into your mouth. You hollow your cheeks as you begin sucking on it slowly - each motion of your lips long and drawn out. Saliva accumulates in the back of your mouth - and an overwhelming wetness accumulates in your underwear.

You draw your head back, gazing up at Soonyoung submissively. You collect your saliva, spitting it onto his cock - it trickles downwards. Wrapping your hand around his girth you spread it over his full length, coating his cock with your spit. 

“Oh wow,” he mutters, nearly going cross eyed. You take his cock in your mouth once more, swallowing more and more of him until his entire length is down your throat. 

“Goddamn baby,” he growls as you bottom out. You begin to bob your head, sucking him off. The sounds being made right now are grotesque - slurping and gagging from you, moaning and grunting from him. But it's only turning you on even more. 

“Ohh that's a good girl,” he grumbles as he pets your hair. You increase your pace - saliva coats your lips, dripping down your chin, spreading across your face. The utterly sloppy head has Soonyoung writhing beneath you, babbling unintelligibly as his orgasm draws near. 

“Feels so good baby.” 

“Fuck you’re so hot.”

“Pretty girl sucking my cock so good right now.” 

His other hand ventures to your head, holding you down as his hips jerk and shake. Your throat aches from him fucking it, your eyes well with tears - but your clit throbbing against the stickiness that has flooded your panties proves how much you fucking love this. 

“Ohhhhhmygoddddd,” he groans through gritted teeth. “Fuuuuck, y/n… I’m gonna cum…”

He pushes your head down as he releases, giving you several hard thrusts as his cum spurts down your throat. You let him fill you up, eagerly swallowing each burst of his load. His hips slow as his climax wanes. His arms plop onto the couch cushions, his body sinking into the sofa as his body relaxes. He drags one hand to your face, grasping your jaw gently as he slowly pulls you off of his sensitive throbbing cock. He wants to look at you so bad, see that pretty little face with those pretty swollen lips covered in both your juices - but his energy is too drained to even lift his head. 

“C’mere,” he pleads softly. 

You pull yourself back up onto the couch, pressing your body closely against his. You lay your head on his shoulder as your fingertips delicately trace up and down his cock - it pulsates at your touch. 

He turns his head to face you, his nose brushing up against yours. He lifts one hand, tenderly cradling your cheek. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice low and husky. 

You feel a pang deep in your stomach. You've been scared to admit it this whole time, but at this point it's undeniable: you are falling in love with your roommate. And god do you want to kiss him. 

“Yes,” you whisper, the word hot and breathy against his lips lingering before yours. 

Soonyoung grabs your face with both hands, pulling you deep into his kiss. His lips hungrily lock onto yours, his body stilling except for his chest, rising and falling with slow, heaving breaths. He kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you, holding you tightly, refusing to allow any physical space between you two. You want to stay here for all of eternity.

Slowly, your mouths part - he gives your bottom lip a few more tugs before letting go. His forehead rests against yours, both of you exhaling deeply in tandem. His hands drop to your waist, touching you gently as the warmth of his breath greets your face. He looks into your eyes as he holds you. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?”

You nod. Quickly tucking his remaining erection back into his sweats, he takes your hands and pulls you up with him, kissing you with each step as you stumble together into your room. You plop onto your bed, pulling Soonyoung on top of you. He rolls over, holding you snugly against him, your legs tangling together as he starts making out with you again. Your aching cunt presses against his thigh as you wrap your legs around him; you begin to grind your hips slowly.

“Wait,” he pauses. He reaches for your shorts, sliding your pajamas and panties off of you. You kick them the rest of the way off, discarding them somewhere on the bed, your shirt quickly joining them. He yanks his own pants off; you straddle his thigh again, your soaked cunt greeting his skin. 

“Oh my god,” he groans. “It’s so fucking wet.”

Your hips begin again, dragging your pussy up and down his thigh, your juices spreading everywhere. You whimper at the stimulation, riding Soonyoung’s thick muscular quads as he wraps his arms around your torso. You cling to him as he draws you in close, his mouth wandering to your neck to plant a string of small kisses on the delicate skin. Ceaseless moans escape you as a fire builds in your gut, the burning pleasure of your climax rapidly approaching. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you cry out as you frantically get yourself off on Soonyoung’s thigh. You feel his cock growing hard again - it presses into your belly as it strains against the fabric of his underwear. 

“Cum for me babe,” his low voice speaks softly into your ear. 

Desperately grinding your pussy on his thigh, you finally release. You scream his name as you cum, legs trembling as your body shakes with vigor. Soonyoung holds you tight, kissing your cheek lovingly as you orgasm in his arms.��

“That's my girl,” he murmurs as he kisses your lips. You begin to come down, but your head is still spinning from the overwhelming stimulation. You try to catch your breath, slowing your breathing as Soonyoung rubs your back - but his touch and the warmth of his body sends you into a deep state of relaxation. He whispers something else to you, but before you can even process what he's saying, you are fast asleep. 

You’re awoken the next morning by loud, moaning cries.

Still half asleep, you begin to register a familiar bodily sensation. Only when you pry your eyes open and see Soonyoung situated between your legs, do you realize you’re the one moaning. His face is buried in your pussy, licking you slowly, tasting you, savoring every moment of having his tongue in your cunt. 

He lifts his eyes, noticing that you’re now conscious.

“Soonyoung what the fu- ohhh,” you question, but are cut off by his lips attaching themselves to your clit. 

“Good morning beautiful,” he mumbles into your cunt, refusing to take his mouth of you for a second. 

“Oh my god,” you groan. “I forgot I told you you could do this.”

He pauses, looking up at you. 

“Do you want me to stop-”

“NO,” you shout, louder than you meant. You lift your hips, putting your folds back in his mouth. He smiles into your cunt, eagerly resuming eating you out.

“Good,” he replies, barely audible as his tongue begins working into your hole again. 

Your back arches as his nose presses into your clit, making it throb desperately. He flattens his tongue, licking you all the way up, then swirling around the sensitive bud. 

“Ahhh,” you cry out involuntarily. “You’re gonna make me cum already.”

This only eggs him on further. He wraps his arms around your thighs, grasping you tightly as the tip of his tongue quickly flicks over your clit.

“How- fuck, how long have you been down there?”

He glances up at you again, sticking his tongue out exaggeratedly as he continues licking you. 

“I dunno, like five minutes maybe.”

“Five?!” you proclaim as your head falls back onto the pillow. You run your fingers through his hair. “That’s it?”

Soonyoung smirks, planting several kisses on your pussy. 

“You were already soaking wet when I got here,” he informs you. “Must’ve been dreaming about me.”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” you pretend to be annoyed with him, but the moans escaping from your lips undermine your facade. 

“C’mon, you like it,” he teases.

“Yeah,” you admit. “I do.”

He grins widely. “Good girl.”

His praise and the way his tongue is now circling your clit send you over the edge. You whine as your orgasm approaches - loud, pathetic sounds filling the air as he sucks and slurps between your thighs. 

“Don’t stop,” you beg. 

The sensation builds and builds, making you squirm beneath him as every nerve in your body erupts with overwhelming delight.

“Oh fuck- I’m cumming,” you shriek as you reach your high. You cum on his tongue, long and hard - riding out your orgasm on his face accompanied by loud, unabashed cries of pleasure. As your body starts to relax, you release the tight grip you didn’t realize you had on his hair, stroking his head as he softly laps up your release. 

“Come here,” you tell him softly, but he doesn’t move. He seems to be even more relaxed than you are right now.

“Just a second,” he responds through deep breaths, his body sinking into the bed.

“Oh my god, did you…”

“Cum in my pants again?” he finishes your question for you. “Yeah. I did.”

He lifts his head, his eyes glazed over in post-orgasm bliss. 

“You’re so hot, I couldn’t help it,” he says with an amused grin.

Finally able to move, he rises - his underwear visibly filled with cum. He crawls back up to you, plopping onto his back right beside you. He peels the ruined underwear off, tossing them aside, then stares down at his own mess.

“Lemme just, um…” 

He goes to get up, intending to go clean himself off, but you pull him back onto the bed.

“I got it.”

You scoot yourself down, positioning your face near his groin. Slowly you begin to lick his own cum off of him.

“Jesus fuck, y/n,” he groans, his voice deep and low. “You’re filthy.”

“Don’t act like you don’t think this is hot.”

“Oh I do,” he says proudly. “Very fucking hot.”

He strokes your hair as you clean him up. As you finish he pulls you back up, laying you on top of him as he wraps his arms around you once more. Both of you are sweaty, and the embrace is nearly too warm - but neither of you want to move. 

You lay there in silence, your head tucked comfortably into his shoulder, peacefully listening to the songbirds chirping as warm morning sunlight filters into the room through the blinds. Soonyoung is breathing so steadily that you think he's fallen asleep underneath you, but eventually you hear your name softly muttered from his lips. 

“Hey, y/n?”

“Hmm?” you reply sleepily without moving. Soonyoung caresses your back, dragging his fingertips gently up and down over the soft skin. 

“What are we?”

You lift your head, propping yourself up by your elbow. You look down at Soonyoung - he gazes up at you, waiting for your response.

“I don’t know,” you answer after thinking for a moment. “What do you want us to be?”

He reaches for your face, stroking your cheek gently. 

“I wasn’t lying the other day.” He stares into your eyes. Despite the fact that he literally just had his face buried in your pussy, it feels overwhelmingly intimate. Your stomach churns anxiously.

“I really do love you.”

You knew he was going to say it, but your heart skips a beat anyway. Hearing him say it out loud, hearing him confess his love to you - it’s a thought that previously scared you. But you no longer fear confronting this reality. Now that you’re here, it feels comfortable, it feels right. 

“I’m sorry if that makes things weird between us, but it’s the truth,” he says timidly. “I just can’t deny it any longe-”

You cut him off with a kiss. 

You kiss him for far too long - but it’s never long enough. When your lips part at last, you gaze at him lovingly, a big, cheesy grin growing upon your face.

“I love you too, dummy.”

He stares back at you, mouth agape. He finally processes your words, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Really??” he asks you in awe. 

“Really really,” you nod.

He embraces you with explosive enthusiasm, making you yelp as he rolls over on top of you. You giggle as he gives you a series of rapidly-placed kisses all over your face. 

“Stop itttt,” you cry through your laughter. “That tickles!”

“Sorry,” he says with a big goofy smile. “I’m just really excited.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you say as you grab his boner that has quickly returned.

He beams at you. “What can I say, you make my dick happy.”

“God, you’re such a dork,” you tell him as you roll your eyes. But you guide his tip to your entrance, shifting your hips to take him inside you.

“Ohh fuuuuck,” he mumbles, his eyes rolling back into his head. He starts slowly sliding his overstimulated cock into you, grunting when his whole length is inside. He rests, unmoving.

“You good?” you ask him.

“Yeah, just trying not to cum immediately,” he says, grinning.

“Soonyoung, you are crazy.”

“Crazy for you,” he says with a kiss. 

You spend the rest of the day in bed together, making out, fucking, napping - anything, so long as you don’t have to leave his side. Soonyoung, being Soonyoung, tells you he loves you no fewer than 12 more times.

“So,” he asks as you intertwine your fingers with his, holding hands after he goes down on you for probably the fourth time today. “Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend now?”

You try to answer, but you’re trying to catch your breath after your millionth orgasm. 

“Hmmmm?” he pesters.

“Gimme a… fucking second…” you mumble, pushing him away playfully. He gets right back in your face.

“I’m not hearing no…” he says, kissing your nose.

“Oh my god, yes, Soonyoung. The answer is yes.”

He grins from ear to ear, then wraps his entire body around yours, clinging to you like a koala.

“Yayyyy!" he replies as he nuzzles his face into you. 

“You know,” he says after a few moments of silence. “I’m pretty hungry…”

“You better mean real food this time,” you tell him sternly. “I don’t think I could handle any more orgasms today.”

“Yes, real food,” he chuckles. “Shall I order delivery from that Thai place you like?”

“Yes please, I’m fucking starving.”

“You got it, baby.”

[archivegyu]

masterlist

invisible string

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

There’s a golden softness to late afternoons in Seoul. The kind that melts into the floorboards and sneaks into the corners of rooms. In Seungcheol’s apartment, it spills in through the wide living room windows, lazily painting everything with that hazy warmth only spring can offer. It catches in the ridges of your coffee mug, glimmers against the silver edges of your ruler, and warms the back of your neck as you hunch over the center table.

The apartment is quiet, save for the low hum of your laptop fan and the occasional scribble of your stylus across the screen. Your project , fills the display in layers of blueprints and notes. Post-its clutter the table’s edge, reminders of measurements and deadlines, and in the middle of it all, there’s you; oversized hoodie, glasses slipping down your nose, hair pulled back in a lazy bun.

And next to you, lying belly-up with a kind of careless peace you envy, is Kkuma.

She lets out a little huff, tail twitching as if in a dream. You reach over to scratch behind her ear with your free hand, lips twitching into a tired smile.

This is what most of your evenings look like lately. Half-finished sketches, cold takeout, and a drowsy dog keeping you company while your best friend dances himself to the bone in some faraway practice room.

You hadn’t meant to stay here long. When Seungcheol first offered his spare room, you’d told yourself it was just for a few months — until your life calmed down, until rent became less of a monster, until breathing felt easier.

But the months stretched, and the apartment never stopped feeling safe. He never made you feel like a guest, either. It wasn’t his place. It became yours too. The kind of home that smells like coffee and fabric softener, where the walls are filled with memories neither of you ever had to say out loud.

The front door clicks open a little past eight.

You don’t look up. You don’t need to.

The soft shuffle of sneakers on tile. The familiar thud of a duffle bag hitting the entryway floor. Then the drag of tired footsteps across the wood, slow and heavy, like gravity itself decided to cling to him today.

“I’m home,” he calls, his voice quieter than usual. Rough around the edges.

Still, you smile without looking. “There’s kimchi fried rice on the stove.”

He pauses, then: “Did you cook or order again?”

“Define ‘cook.’”

He laughs under his breath. A real one. Not the polite, camera-ready kind.

You finally glance up and find him standing a few feet away, hoodie soaked through, bangs sticking to his forehead, sweat glistening at his collarbone. Exhaustion clings to him like second skin, but his eyes are gentle, warm when they land on you.

“You’re still working?” he asks, nodding toward the screen.

You shrug. “Final review is next week.”

“You said that last week.”

“I meant it then, too.”

He shakes his head, kneels to pet Kkuma. She perks up, tail wagging in sleepy little thumps against the floor.

“She’s spoiled now,” he mutters. “Doesn’t even greet me at the door anymore.”

You hum without thinking, eyes drifting back to your screen. “She likes people who feed her on time.”

He snorts. “I’m taking a shower. Don’t pass out on the floor again.”

You raise a hand in lazy salute, already tuning back into the chaos of your canvas.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You’re fast asleep by the time he finds you again.

Curled up on the center table, cheek pressed to your folded arms, a pencil still tucked between your fingers. Your laptop screen has dimmed to black, casting the room into a warm hush. Kkuma lies beside you, paw resting near your knee like she’s been guarding you all evening.

Seungcheol exhales quietly from where he stands in the hallway, towel slung around his shoulders. His hair is still damp, shirt clinging slightly to his skin from the shower. His body aches from practice, but his chest aches for something else entirely.

He steps forward, careful not to wake you. There’s something fragile about the scene; the way your face is turned toward the window, the way your brows are relaxed, mouth slightly parted, like the weight you always carry has finally slipped off for just a moment.

And God, you still wear that hoodie he gave you two winters ago— fraying at the sleeves, too big for your frame, swallowed by the fabric.

He kneels beside the table.

“You weren’t supposed to fall asleep like this,” he murmurs softly, reaching to brush a stray hair out of your face.

You don’t stir. You never do, not when you’re this tired. It’s something he’s learned from the years. How you give everything you have until your body stops you. How you always say you’re fine even when you aren’t. How you carry the weight of the world in silence.

He hesitates, then gently scoops you up in his arms. You sink into his chest instinctively, head resting against the hollow of his shoulder. You smell like shampoo and his vanilla lotion you pretend not to like.

Your fingers twitch once in your sleep, curling lightly into the fabric of his shirt.

And that’s what does it; that tiny movement, that subconscious reach for him. Like something inside you knows, even now, even half-asleep, that it’s him.

He carries you to your room, nudging the door open with his foot. Lays you down slowly, carefully, like you’re something precious. Something breakable. His fingers linger on your wrist for a second too long before he pulls the blanket over you.

Then, without thinking, he reaches up and grazes the back of his knuckle along your cheek.

“Night, pretty girl,” he whispers, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Even your dreams deserve rest.”

He closes the door quietly behind him.

⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Back in the living room, Seungcheol sinks into the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. The quiet presses in; thick and full of everything he’s never said.

Kkuma climbs up beside him, paws light on the cushion. She flops down, tail flicking once, then still.

He chuckles softly, leaning back. “She’s gonna burn herself out before she even graduates.”

Kkuma yawns.

“She doesn’t take care of herself unless someone makes her. It’s annoying,” he says, his voice softer now, gentler. “But… I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the one who reminds her.”

Silence stretches between him and the dog.

“You know, I’ve been trying to ignore it. For years, maybe. Told myself it was just comfort, or familiarity. Like she’s just… always been here.”

He stares up at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded.

“But it’s not that. It’s never been that.”

His voice wavers just a little.

“I’m in love with her.”

There. He says it. Not to you. Not to anyone who can answer. Just to the only soul in the room who might understand.

Kkuma lifts her head slightly, ears twitching.

“I don’t even know when it started,” he continues, his eyes growing distant. “Maybe it was when she stood up to my bully. Maybe when she shared her candy and said I could have the red one.”

A soft laugh escapes him, short and breathless.

“Maybe I’ve always known.”

He reaches down and pets Kkuma’s head again, more to ground himself than anything.

“I don’t know what she’d say if I told her. I don’t know if she’d laugh, or freeze, or leave.” His voice turns quiet. “But I’d rather have her here, like this, than risk losing her at all.”

He looks toward your closed bedroom door.

“So maybe I’ll just wait a little longer.”

The city hums quietly outside the windows. And in this in-between, not quite night, not quite morning; he sits in the golden aftermath of everything unsaid, gently held by the thread that’s tied you to him all this time.

[stayteezdreams]

Secret Santa

Plot: For years, someone has been leaving you presents at Christmas, and you never knew who it was. This year, you caught them in the act.

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi x Gn!Reader (childhood friends > strangers > ???)

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, rumors, classic mean-girl stuff. Brief mention of possible stalker (but its not). Sort of an open-ending but its a happy one.

A/n: I try to write these ahead of time every time, but I always fail (I say the night before the day I post this as I am panicking to write it)

Words: 4.4k

As you laid the familiar Christmas themed blanket out on your couch, you thought back on how you got it.

The first Christmas after you moved into a place on your own, a present appeared at your doorstep. There was no note or tag, so you thought maybe it was a nice neighbor leaving a secret present as a welcoming gift. Inside was the blanket. Large, soft, and in your favorite pattern.

Then the next year, you received a cute stocking full of your favorite candies, and a pair of gloves and a matching scarf.

The year after that, you moved away and assumed the Christmas gifts would stop. So, when another present showed up on your new doorstep that Christmas, you started to grow more than a little concerned. Especially when the present consisted of your favorite band’s new album, and one of your favorite candles only sold at a store near where you grew up.

Asking everyone you knew, no one admitted it was them, but you assumed it had to be one of them. Otherwise, the only other option was a stalker, and you certainly didn't want to entertain that idea.

You had hoped that you would catch them in the act one time, to finally find out once and for all who it was playing secret Santa these past few years. But the presents always appeared when you weren’t home, or they were left over night. The identity of the secret Santa remained a mystery to this day.

When you returned from the grocery store that evening, you feared you missed catching them again, as a large package was sitting at your front door. But relief washed over you when you saw your parents’ name and address at the top.

Inside the package was an array of wrapped presents your parents sent, since you wouldn’t be able to see them until New Years.  

As you took out the packages, as well as various candies and home-made treats, you spotted a familiar photo in a frame you had decorated in class, a wave of melancholy hit you.

A small note from your mother was attached, ‘I found this the other day and thought you might want it.’

The photo was of you and your childhood best friend hugging, you were about eight years old. "Soonyoung." You mumbled his name softly as you smiled. It had been a long time since you had seen him.

Last you heard he got a job at a dance studio in the same city you lived. Which made sense, he was always fond of dancing. And loved to try and force you to like it too. You always wondered if you would run unto him at some point, but the city was pretty big.

Setting the framed photo on your shelf, you smiled, though your chest was a bit heavy as the memories of your last argument with Soonyoung ran through your mind.

You couldn't help but wonder if he thought of you at all, and if he ever did, did he hate you?

As the evening drew in and the sun continued to set at an alarmingly early hour, you cuddled up on the couch and started watching videos on your phone. You only intended to lounge for a while, but as you sunk deeper and deeper into the couch, you never got up. Even as the house grew dark around you, you remained in your spot.

So lost in the videos you were watching, it took a few moments for you to focus on a sound you were hearing somewhere. Finally noticing it again, you paused your video as you held your breath and strained your ears.

Your heart skipped a beat as your gut clenched when you realized it was coming from right outside your front door.

Was it scratching? No. It was more of a rustling noise.

Rising from the couch, you silently slunk to the window, crouching down as you peaked out, heart hammering. Your eyes widened in fear as you flinched at the sight of a person outside your door.

‘Oh God am I being robbed? Should I turn the lights on to scare them away?’

Looking a bit closer, you noticed they had a bag in their hands. A Christmas bag. You almost gasped as you realized it was the person who had been leaving presents the last few years. You finally caught them in the act.

Squinting, you sighed in frustration as you couldn’t make out their face. They were wearing a hoodie over their head and a mask on their face. Slinking to the door, you grabbed the door handle as softly as you could.

‘Should I?’

Nodding to yourself, you took in a breath before you turned the handle and pulled the door open as quickly as you could.

The stranger at your doorstep, fell backwards in surprise as you opened the door, you pointed at them with a yell, “Caught you!”

You expected the hooded figure to be someone you knew, a family member, a friend, a coworker. You expected them to laugh and reveal themselves. But instead, the person froze for a moment, remaining completely silent, before turning and running away.

“Wh- hey, HEY!” Without thinking you ran out your front door and after them.

The stranger glanced back, and upon seeing you chasing them let out a muffled gasp before tripping and nearly falling.

“Come back here!”

You made it about two houses away before you caught up with them as they got themselves caught at the end of the cul-de-sac. With nowhere to go, they tried to outmaneuver you and make it around you, but you managed to grab the bottom of their jacket and yank them towards you.

The momentum was more than you expected as they stumbled back and fell, bringing you with them. You grunted as you fell on your butt before rushing to grab the stranger before they ran off.

Turning them over, they started waving their hands, as if expecting you to beat them up. A voice called out from behind the mask in a desperate plea, “Wait, wait, it’s me!”

“Who is me!?” You asked as you pulled back the hood and pulled down their mask.

Revealing a startled face, you froze as you stared down at them, familiarity and realization watching you. His hair was bleached blonde, and he was older, but he still had the same eyes and the same cute cheeks.

“Soonyoung?” Your voice was soft, as you looked down at him, “SOONYOUNG?” You repeated as the full realization washed over you.

He gave you a strained smile as he waved his raised hand softly. “Hi.”

“You- what? What are you even doing here?” Your voice was full of confusion as you climbed off him.

He swallowed nervously, as he sat up, his breath a bit heavy from running. He started playing with his mask as he avoided looking over at you. “Well, I just- I-“ he was fumbling to find an answer, not sure if he should tell you everything now, or just give an excuse.

Remembering the present he left at your door, you let out a sigh, making him finally look at you. “It was you leaving the presents all this time?”

He nodded softly without speaking.

Reaching out you smacked his arm softly, an action that shot Soonyoung back in time, something he missed.

“Why didn’t you just tell me? Or knock on my door? Why leave them in secret? You know I thought someone might have been stalking me, right?” Your voice became a bit hesitant, “Y-You’re not…are you?”

He suddenly started shaking his head and waving his hands. “No, no I’m not I swear! I just… I wanted to give them to you myself, but you hate me, so….”

You felt your heart clench as guilt and familiar heart ache washed over you. “I don’t hate you Soonyoung.” Your voice was soft, sad, as you rose to stand up.

His eyes followed you, caught on to your words with everything he had. “You don’t?”

“No! No, I never hated you, I just- “looking around, you sighed as you reached out your hand to help him up, “Come on, get up.”

Taking your hand, he swallowed nervously, your words echoing in his mind. You didn’t hate him? But all this time he thought you did.

“If you don’t hate me then why did you leave?”

You almost scoffed but let it go, “You really don’t know?”

He shook his head softly, a familiar pout on his face. The same face of the boy who used to follow you around. The one who promised to marry you when you got excited at a wedding when you were nine. The boy who became your world.

The boy who broke your heart.

You swallowed as a dozen memories flooded over you. You cleared your throat, “It’s cold, I’m going inside. You can come in if you want.”

As you walked away from him, he watched you with a tight chest. The last time he had seen you, you were walking away from him. And you never came back. And it was his fault.  

Back then he didn’t know he should have followed you. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Following you, he remained close, part of him wanting to reach out and take your hand as he often did when you were children. You had always been together, until you weren’t.

It was the first time you felt your heart genuinely ache. Seeing Soonyoung hand in hand with another girl. His new girlfriend. A girl who asked him out and he said yes because he was excited to date when no one else was.

The popular pretty girl. The one the teachers loved. The girl who took your best friend from you.

No more sleepovers, no more hangouts, no more lunches together. Not unless she was there, and if she was, you were invisible.

You knew he was excited about having a girlfriend. He was a freshman and thought it would be the perfect way to start high school. What he didn’t think about was you.

You had always been afraid there would come a time when you and Soonyoung wouldn’t be close anymore. When his family moved houses, you feared it. But he was still by your side every day. Then you were afraid you’d lose touch in college, but you never even made it that far. It was inevitable. And it was heartbreaking.

Truthfully, you had feelings for Soonyoung as soon as you realized what “feelings” were. He was your best friend, and your first love, even if he had no idea, even if he didn’t feel the same. Maybe you should have told him, maybe things would have been different.

The girl he dated was terrible, manipulative and fake. In secret, she would bully you, playing tricks and starting rumors. She even blamed you for things you didn’t do. Petty things like accidentally breaking something, or pranks played on students or teachers.

She was the popular girl with a pretty face, and you weren’t. So, who did they believe?

Not only did she make your first year of high school miserable. But she took Soonyoung from you.

You tried to tell him she was a liar, that she hurt you, but he was so wrapped around her finger that he didn’t believe you. For the first time in ten years, he didn’t believe you. He told you not to lie to him, he told you to be nice to her. He was angry at you. He was never angry with you.

“You’re just jealous I’m in a relationship and you’re not! Just stay away from me if you’re gonna act like this!”

These weren’t his words, and you knew it. It was her. There was no way it wasn’t.

He chose her over you. He told you to stay away from him. So, you did.

“Fine.” That was the last word you spoke to him before you turned and walked away from him, leaving behind your best friend, your first love, your first heartbreak.

It was devastating, and so noticeable that your parents intervened. They found out about the bullying, and the rumors. They figured this was why you were miserable. So, they suggested switching you to another school. They thought you might refuse, not wanting to leave Soonyoung. But you agreed, and you left. And you never saw Soonyoung again.

Soonyoung stared at his clenched hands as you finished speaking. His heart was pounding as guilt rocked him. He knew it was his fault, but he had blocked so much of it out he couldn’t remember all the details. And so much of it he never knew at all.

But you remembered all of it. Of course you did. How could you not?

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled after a few moments of silence. He sniffled a bit as he finally looked at you. You were looking down at your lap, and he didn’t blame you for avoiding his gaze.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he put his elbows on the table and face in his hands as he groaned. “I’m such an asshole.”

You almost laughed at his sudden reaction but repressed it. Leaning back in his chair again with a sigh, he cleared his throat. Now it was his time to explain what happened next.

“I broke up with her a few months after you left.”

Your eyes shot over to him as he spoke, you had always wondered what happened to him, but made yourself stay distant.

“I guess once you had gone, she needed to find someone else to mistreat. I started to notice it more. I wasn’t as focused on her as I was, because… I was always thinking of you.”

Your heart skipped at this, as you looked over at him, heart jolting again as you saw him staring at you.

“I was devastated that you were gone. At first, she comforted me, but it never felt very genuine, then slowly, she started to get angry at me for it. She would say cruel things, and even insulted you. Then she slipped up about starting a rumor and I realized that you had been telling the truth the whole time. She got too comfortable and thought I wouldn’t care what she did. But I did. But I cared too late, I know that. I did the best I could at straightening out the rumors she started. Eventually by our second year she was known as the mean girl, and a lot of people avoided her. She couldn’t stop her true colors from being shown. She failed a lot of classes, and I don’t even think she passed her college exams.”

Listening to him, you did get a sort of satisfaction learning about her fate. The past was the past, but the hurt was still there.

“I wanted to talk to you so badly, but any time I showed up at your house you wouldn’t see me. Then when we graduated high school, you went to a college far away.”

Guilt washed over you as you let out a soft sigh. If you had given in and talked to him, maybe you wouldn’t have gone too long without seeing him.

“I’m sorry.” Soonyoung’s brow shot up as you spoke, “If I had talked to you at least once- “

“Don’t blame yourself! I mean… yeah, I wish you had, but I get why you didn’t. I blocked out the things I said to you that day. But…remembering now… I was so horrible. How could I do that to you? I mean. I was supposed to be your best friend.”

“I was supposed to be yours too. I should have tried harder to convince you about her.”

Silence sat between you for a few moments, as you both thought of what you did and didn’t do. There was guilt and heartbreak on both sides. Equal pain given and taken.

You finally spoke up again when you remembered what triggered this conversation all together “But… why the secret presents?”

“Oh! Oh. Uhm, after I heard from my parents that you graduated and moved back to the city, I really wanted to see you, but I was too scared. They got your new address from your parents and gave it to me. I got you that blanket as a housewarming gift, but when I got to your house, I got too scared, and I chickened out.” He let out an awkward laugh, “Then I just kept doing it. It was my way of being around, without really being around, you know?”

You nodded but remained silent, chewing on your lips as so many thoughts and questions crossed your mind. It was a habit Soonyoung noticed when you were kids, seeing that you still did it made him smile. He didn’t force you to speak or react as he sat there, thinking over what you had told him.

One detail he kept going back to made him smile as his heart raced. “So…you liked me?”

You froze in all your movements as you slowly looked over at him, seeing him repressing a grin. Why did you have to include that detail? Yes, it was an important part of why you were so hurt by him, but he was Soonyoung after all. And he most certainly would not be letting this go.

Groaning as you threw back your head, you heard him giggle and your heart raced, ‘uh-oh’. As he leaned forward like he was going to interrogate you, you shook your head, “Shut up. It was just a stupid childhood crush!”

He shook his head, his tone much less teasing than you expected, “I don’t think it’s stupid.” He seemed to think about something for a moment before he leaned a bit closer and spoke hesitantly. “I liked you too.”

You blinked in surprise, “What?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I mean. After you left, and I realized you were really gone, I started to think about how I felt when dating you-know-who versus when I was with you. I realized my feelings for you had been different. A good different, though. And the longer you were gone, the more I realized how I felt. But I think I refused to acknowledge them on purpose. I mean, you were already gone, so what was the point? But, yeah, I liked you too.”

As he rambled, your heart raced, and your neck grew hot. Why was this confession affecting you so much now? It had been ten years, surely those feelings were gone now. Right?

“I- uh, hmm.” You really weren’t sure how to respond, stunned by his acknowledgment of his past feelings.

Soonyoung smiled as he leaned forward, catching your eye. He had a somewhat tentative tone in his voice as he spoke, “Should we date?”

You nearly choked on your spit as you leaned forward, shock obvious on your face. You let out a bewildered laugh. “What?!”

“Come on! We both liked each other!”

You laughed again, but it held more bewilderment than humor. “Yeah, liked, as in past tense!”

He hummed under his breath, “But is it really?”

You stared at him in silence as you swallowed harshly, your heart pounding nonstop. “What? Of course it is.”

His smile turned into a familiar grin, “I recognize that tone, you’re not sure, are you? You still like me!”

You reached out and smacked at him again, “I do not! You’re being ridiculous. It’s been ten years!”

“But that’s even better then, isn’t it?! It means they’re real. More real than just a childhood crush.”

You sighed and shook your head, covering your face with your hands as you grew overwhelmed. With embarrassment or shock you weren’t sure.

You jumped ever so slightly when you felt him gently grab your wrists. Pulling your hands away from your face, you met his gaze. “I wasn’t sure just how much I liked you in the past, but I know now those feelings have only grown. You know, like that saying, distance makes the heart grow stronger.”

“Wh- are you saying, you still- “

“Like you?” He finished for you, before he nodded with a cheeky smile. “You’re right. It’s been ten years. We aren’t kids anymore. I know better now what these feelings are. I can recognize them better than I could back then. I won’t miss it this time.”

Letting your hands go, you watched as he reached down, before setting the bag he had brought in front of you. Sliding it in front of you, he spoke softly, “I was actually planning on letting you know it was me that was leaving the presents, with this.”

Hesitantly, you reached into the bag and pulled out the contents. Your heart swelled as you laid eyes on the teddy bear you had given him when you were kids. You had tied a note around its wrist and left it at his doorstep.

His family had just moved in next door, so you left him the bear and a letter introducing yourself and asking him if he wanted to be friends. The next day he showed up with his parents, and you had been inseparable since.

Around the bear’s wrist was a letter tied to it, just like how you had done so long ago.

Taking the letter off and opening it, you spared Soonyoung a look and saw him picking nervously at his nails.

‘Y/n,

I guess it’s time to finally give up this secret gift thing, it’s been four years now. I always want to knock on your door and give you the gifts yourself, but I’m a coward. You know I always have been. I hope you liked the gifts, and I hope I don’t ruin them by telling you it was me who left them.

It’s been so long since we talked, I can’t even remember the sound of your voice. Do you remember mine? I never thought there would come a time when we would stop speaking, but it happened, and I regret it every day.

I don’t know if you will feel anything when reading this. But I just wanted to let you know I think of you every day. I always have, ever since you left. And every day I feel more and more regret for letting you go, and never fighting to get you back.

The more time passed the harder it became. I felt like if I saw you, and you saw me, you would glare at me, or curse at me, or ignore me like you didn’t know me at all. That last one scares me the most. Even if we are strangers, I still hope you remember me. I think I would die if you forgot me.

I never had the courage to acknowledge how I felt about you back then. But I think I might gain some closure if I tell you at least once. Even if I am too big of a coward to tell you to your face.

You weren’t just my best friend, or my other half. You were my first love. I know that now. Too late, I know. But I hope, maybe, just maybe, that the knowledge that I never hated you, might make whatever heartache I caused you, lessen, at least a little.

I’ll leave my number at the bottom of this letter. In case you want to reach out. You don’t have to, and I won’t blame you if you don’t. But just know. I am here. I was always here. And if you ever need me, I’m just a call away.

-Soonyoung. P.S. I miss you.

As you read his letter, you hadn’t even realized you had started crying. Not until he reached out and gently swiped away a tear with his thumb.

Looking up, he smiled softly at you, a fond gaze you used to dream about seeing again.

“See? Those feelings are still there, aren’t they?” His tone wasn’t teasing, but genuine, and loving. You noticed the beginning of tears brimming his own eyes as well.

Nodding silently at his question, his smile turned into a grin.

Getting out of his chair, he knelt on his knees beside you as he held your hands. Looking up into your face he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I made you think you weren’t important to me back them. I’m sorry I was weak minded. I’m sorry I never sought you out, to make it right. I’m sorry it took me too long to realize you had been the most important thing in my life. I chased you away, I know that. And…I’m sorry I ran when you opened the door, but honestly you scared the shit out of me.”

You let out a bubbly laugh as he chuckled.

He squeezed your hands before continuing. “Please, let me make it up to you. I don’t want to start over, because I don’t want to forget what we used to be. But maybe we can start again from here?”

You swallowed back your emotions, uncertainly fading as you started to let go of the reservations you had held onto back then. He was right earlier; you weren’t children anymore. Maybe these feelings aren’t childish. Maybe they are real. Maybe you should try.

Taking in a soft breath, you nodded, “Alright. Let’s start again, here.”

He grinned up at you, letting out a shaky breath as his fear of rejection was replaced by relief and joy. Bringing your hand to his mouth, he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, making you giggle. Tugging your arms a bit, he spoke with an excited, yes soft tone.

“How about we have a sleepover? Like old times. We can properly catch up and maybe…”

You rose one of your brows before narrowing your eyes, “And?”

“Aaandd, maybe cuddle? Just a little?”

You bit back a laugh, but it escaped as he pleaded with his eyes. You cleared your throat as you tried to push back the growing bashful butterflies. “Don’t push your luck.”

He pouted, but it was quickly replaced by another smile as he suddenly yanked you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you returned the embrace, emotions overwhelming but welcomed.

As he cupped the back of your head, he spoke softly, though his voice held countless emotions. “I missed you so much.”

You clenched your eyes shut as you squeezed him harder, letting out a soft breath as your heart swelled. “I missed you too.”

xx End xx

For having panic wrote this at nearly midnight before posting it, I'm pretty happy with how this came out!

((Taglist Form))

12 Days of Christmas Taglist: @multi-fandommaniac, @mbruben-stein

General Taglist: @charmsprout, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669,

@tinyelfperson, @pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop,

@shymexican, @stillwjk-channie-lixie, @alexxavicry

Seventeen Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn, @dancinglikebutterflywings

[seungcheorry]

svt + "oh no, the car is packed"

seungcheol: says you're riding shotgun and doesn't allow anyone to say anything else. "but hyung, i'm too big~" mingyu could say, and seungcheol would be like 🤷 yeah well, that sounds like a YOU problem.

jeonghan: depending on his mood, he's either the one sitting on your lap like a princess or he's the cocky motherfucker who will smirk because you'll have to sit on his.

joshua: ever a gentleman, he lets you decide if you're comfortable with sitting on his lap or if you'd rather sit on anyone else's/have someone on your lap. would probably tell you to ride in the front seat with the driver too.

jun: stands there like 🧍 just casually talking logistics with wonwoo and chan until he also casually gets in the car and gives you a small smile and a nod, telling you to make yourself as comfortable as possible. blushes the entire ride.

soonyoung: literally couldn't care less but has the time of his life with you sitting on his lap, you'll have to be careful not to bump your head as he's bouncing his legs in excitement.

wonwoo: has you on his lap like it doesn't mean a thing but deep down he's all butterflies, rainbows and unicorns. most likely to rest a hand on your waist just because. has the time of his life during a 15 minutes ride.

jihoon: "jihoon-ah, what do you prefer?" *doesn't answer as he's already calling an uber, he is NOT doing that or puttng you in such a position*.

seokmin: apologizes the moment you sit on his lap, but you know he ain't sorry - his smile is too big in that moment. will crack a joke to make you laugh and then he'll laugh with you and you'll feel his breath on your shoulder and-

mingyu: a big baby :( would be bullied into riding in the backseat and pouts because of it, but then smiles when you have to sit on his lap. wraps his arms around you to "make sure you're safe" - yeah, right. you don't fool me, kim mingyu.

minghao: does his best to make everyone let you ride in the passenger seat because you don't deserve to be in the backseat all squeezed against those losers. sneakily grab the keys and then drive the car, saving himself from the backseat too.

seungkwan: doesn't even try to play it cool or cocky, he literally giggle as he sits on your lap. grabs the back of the driver's seat for dear life the entire ride otherwise he's gonna combust. apologizes every time he has to move. "i'll start a diet tomorrow-" "boo seungkwan, just shut up, please".

vernon: "should we just ride the subway?" "i don't know, vernon. i mean, it's gonna take us double the time to get there?" "yeah. let's take the subway". please understand his message.

chan: is torned between having you on his lap or sitting on yours. frowns in annoyance when one of his hyungs tells you to sit on their lap - like, come on now, give him a break!! but also, chan has the brightest smile on his face when you have to change laps and sit on his because he's smaller than almost all of his hyungs.

[kissbyoon]

⠀𖼥ৎ⠀“hoodie!” ₍ hyung line ₎

───── ABOUT svt intentionally leaving their hoodie at your place ( & ridiculously trying to defend themselves )

⋆ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smau, fluff, humour, est. rs ⋆ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: bf!svt x gn!reader ⋆ 𝒄𝒘: terms of endearment, mild curse words, reader mentioned as 'gf' once (in hoshi's text)

A/N: [maknae line] OKAY I DIDN'T PROCRASTINATE THIS TIME.

────୨ৎ────

KISSBYOON 2025. all rights reserved. @maestro-net @kstrucknet

[joshujin]

can’t wait no more

🔞 18+, minors do not interact • masterlist • submit a request

your pov • soonyoung’s pov ⇣

soonyoung has been best friends with you for 10 years now—in love with you for almost all of that time. one way or another, those 10 years end tonight.

♫ darl+ing svt pairing: soonyoung x fem!reader word count: 11.6k (i don't want to talk about it) tags: best friends to lovers, idiots in love, a lil miscommunication, angst, happy ending, soonyoung pov, flashbacks cw: smut - possessiveness, unprotected piv (pull-out method. v irresponsible piv. don't be like these two), reader loses virginity, spit, oral f. receiving, fingering, mention of choking, mention of masturbating, soft vanilla smut, probably a little hornier than the other pov bc this is a MAN after all a/n: happy @citruscheol birth!!! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و to celebrate this momentous occasion, i ofc had to honor her request for a soonyoung pov of we can be all we need. you don’t really need to read that before this one; after all, they are essentially the same fic. BUT! i recommend you do bc it will make this version more enjoyable + easier to understand. and y’know what, i literally had to drive myself bat shit crazy and completely alter my brain chemistry to write this. like. there isn’t enough grass in the world that i can touch to return back to normal. and idk if i can ever look at hoshi the same ever again, so the least you can do is read both ok ㅠㅠㅠㅠ kidding ofc pls do what you want haha. either way, i think you’ll enjoy whichever one you want to read! as far as smut goes, same thing as last time: i marked where the smut starts and ends, but this courtesy is for adults who don’t want to read explicit material. minors should not be interacting at all pls!

soonyoung has been avoiding you. he knows you know it because you’ve asked him multiple times now if anything was wrong, and every time, he’s lied to you and told you everything was fine. everything wasn’t fine. it hardly felt like anything was fine, actually.

because you just blew out your candles, you’re 30 now, and his time has officially run out. he can’t blame anyone other than himself, though, and he knows it. he had seven whole years to tell you, and instead, he foolishly thought if he just continued to love you the way he’s always loved you, you would simply see it yourself. you would see how hopelessly in love with you he is. 

you didn’t. for whatever reason, his showering you with lavish gifts, vacations, and fancy meals didn’t strike you as odd for a friend. or the way he was constantly wrapped around you or leaving kisses on your forehead whenever he had the chance. or the fact that it’s been nine fucking years since he went on a date or slept with anyone. he’s fucking priestly at this point.

and he doesn’t do it just so you’ll get the hint. he does it because that’s how he loves you and that’s how he’s always loved you. but maybe that’s the issue: you think this is just how he is as a friend because he’s been this way ever since he met you. but you couldn’t be more wrong. 

soonyoung has never even felt inclined to treat anyone outside of his family the way he treats you. as far as he’s concerned, everything he does for you are just things he watched his dad do for his mom his whole life. you’re not even aware that the way he loves you is supposed to be reserved for whoever becomes his wife.

and he’s been so happy to give you all of that even if it meant you never saw him the way he longed for you to. it fills him with pride to know that your expectations are higher because he’s loved you so well—that you know exactly what you deserve because he’s always tried to give you exactly that.

at least, up until a few weeks ago, when the horror of the truth really started settling into his bones: you weren’t going to fall in love with him by the time you turn 30. and without even really realizing it, he started distancing himself from you, deluded into thinking it would be easier to let go if he just put a little space between the two of you. he knew it was hurting you just as much as it was hurting him, and he knew you didn’t deserve it.

it’s against his hardwiring to do anything that hurts you, and it’s reflected in how terrible his life has become in just a handful of weeks. his apartment has been filthy; the only reason it was ready for your party was because he paid the housekeeper double to come even though he wasn’t scheduled to clean for another week. his work is fortunately still fine, but he spends whole days with horrible brain fog, hardly understanding or even hearing anything anyone says to him. he hasn’t seen any friends—mutual or otherwise—because he spends all his free time in bed or drinking himself into a sobbing mess.

that’s all he can seem to do these days, is cry over you. 

soonyoung steps out into the balcony attached to his bedroom, leaning against the sliding door once it’s closed. he cranes his neck to look up toward the midnight sky, and takes a deep breath. it doesn’t help keep the tears at bay. he keeps his head tilted up. 

he knows you don’t deserve this. he knows you’re hurting and that you feel him slipping away. he saw it. just now, just before you blew your candles out, he saw the way the joy and life immediately fled your eyes when they landed on him. he wonders what you saw. did you see the apathy he was desperately forcing? did you see how sad he was at all? 

because he is. he’s the saddest he’s felt since you told him you would rather be on vacation with someone you were in love with seven years ago. someone who wasn’t him. maybe he’s even sadder now. at least back then, he was foolish enough to hope you would change your mind. at least back then, he had time on his side.

now, it’s over, and now, it’s time to give himself a fair chance to move on. you don’t deserve what he’s putting you through, and it’s true for him too. he doesn’t deserve what he’s put himself through for the last decade. 

countless nights you fell asleep at his place, countless times he wished he could gather you up in his arms and carry you into a bed you shared. all the times you told him you loved him and he desperately wanted to beg you to repeat it, even if it was just so he could pretend you meant it the way he needed you to mean it. whole weeks spent overseas on all kinds of vacations, time he spent daydreaming that this was what a honeymoon with you could feel like.

it all adds up to a decade of putting his heart on the backburner so he could allow himself to continue loving you.

soonyoung scoffs at himself when the tears refuse to stop welling in his eyes. he shakes his head and steps forward, resting his forearms against his railing and staring at the blackness in front of him.

part of him hates the version of himself from seven years ago that thought making this stupid promise was a good idea. what good can come from not loving you? but the reason he’s stuck to pulling away and holding you at arm’s distance is because that version of himself somehow knew the pain would grow more and more, year after year.

he can’t do this for the rest of his life—can’t just keep making room for more heartache the older he gets. you’re 30 now, and even though you insist you’re fine and have no desire to date, he knows you’ll get restless soon. and when he thinks of you finally deciding you want to have a boyfriend, he wants to vomit. when he thinks of some other asshole’s hands on you, his lips on yours—when he thinks of you sighing anyone’s name but his, he gets near homicidal over something that isn’t even real. at least not yet.

soonyoung doesn’t want to wait for that to happen. he doesn’t want to wait for you to hate him for being unable to share you—and he won’t be able to share you. he also doesn’t want you to have to face the pressure of having to choose between a best friend and a boyfriend. 

instead, he’d rather you start to hate him slowly, over time. he’d rather you allow him his space and not even realize you hate him for slipping away and leaving you behind—not until it’s years later, when you hear his name in passing, and you think, he just left, and you tell yourself it’s fine because your life is better without him anyway.

it hurts you now, but it’ll hurt less later. it’ll hurt less for both of you to endure this silence now, rather than fight until there’s nothing but resentment.

the door behind soonyoung slides open forcefully and slams closed a moment later. he flinches, looking over his shoulder to see who entered his room and ready to tell them to get out. when he sees you, though, he turns back away, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes.

“what are you doing?”

he quietly clears his throat, hoping he doesn’t sound too worn when he speaks. “just needed some air.”

“no.”

you say it in that tone that always scared him a little. it’s when he knew you were about to get your way. he wasn’t interested in doing the whole fighting thing with you; he just gave you whatever you wanted the moment this voice came out of your mouth. it always drew a smile out of you and it made his life easier.

this is about to be the one and only time he can’t let you have your way.

“what are you doing?”

soonyoung squeezes his eyes shut, like that will help him brace himself against the conversation he has to have with you.

this was coming, he tells himself. you knew this was coming. she was never just going to let you go without an explanation.

“why are you ignoring me?” you ask, voice cracking. it takes everything in him to stay where he stands and keep from wrapping his arms around you, apologizing, and begging you to stop crying. “why are you avoiding me? why are you acting like i’m not your best friend?”

soonyoung opens his eyes and almost laughs. best friend. he doesn’t know when the term became so derogatory to him. anyone would be lucky to be in your life, let alone be your best friend. he hates it anyway.

he’s your best friend. you’re not his. he would never dream of calling you that—at least not without calling you the love of his life first. his most beloved. the woman he would give anything to marry. on the totem pole of things he wants to call you, best friend is at the bottom.

“because you’re not,” he says honestly. he immediately regrets it when he hears the small whimper that escapes you. “at least, i don’t want you to be,” he adds, hoping it will soften the blow of what he just said.

“what are you saying?” 

soonyoung feels so tired and sad and heartbroken. he hangs his head a little as he takes a deep breath.

“what are you saying, soonyoung?” you repeat when he doesn’t answer immediately. patience was never your strong suit.

when he’s sure he’s not going to start sobbing upon turning, he finally faces you, and even then, he can’t bring himself to look you in the eye. if he does, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to do this.

“do you remember your 23rd birthday?” he asks, gaze fixed on the stain on his balcony where you dropped a smoothie and he insisted you leave it instead of cleaning it. he forgot to do it himself and now he has a permanent reminder of how whipped he is for you.

“siquijor,” you basically spit at him. he feels your walls coming up. he feels your defenses getting ready, and he knows you’re aware of what he’s about to do. “what about it?”

siquijor. the best and worst trip of his life.

“i think i’m drunk,” you announced, words slurring so badly, soonyoung was convinced anyone else wouldn’t be able to understand what you were saying.

“what?” he asked sarcastically. “no way. what makes you say that?” 

soonyoung loved being sober when you were drunk like this. he loved hearing and seeing all the silly shit you’d never say or do sober. most of all, he loved taking care of you. he loved pretending he meant something more to you and this was just another boyfriend duty of his—making sure his drunk girlfriend was happy and hydrated and safe, and that when she woke up, she had a lineup of hangover cures at her disposal.

you answered with the gnarliest burp. he burst into loud laughter, grateful the beach was far enough away from any rooms that the two of you weren’t disturbing anyone.

after a few moments, he realized you weren’t laughing along, simply leaning back on your elbows in the sand, smiling softly at him. he did what he does best: he pretended. he pretended you were just a lovesick girl staring at someone she yearned for. he pretended you wanted him just as badly as he needed you. he pretended you were in love.

“penny for your thoughts, you drunkard?” 

you giggled, slipping off of your elbows and laying all the way down. he joined you, both of you looking up at the sky. it was different here than it was back home. it was quiet and warm and there was no light to disrupt the view of the stars. he loved that he was seeing something like this for the first time with you.

“my thoughts are worth more than a penny.”

he snorted. even drunk, you were a brat. “nickel?”

“nice try. a hundred bucks, buddy.”

“ha!” he shouted. “never mind, keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“soonie!” you half whined, half burped. he made a face of disgust at you. he thought he did a good job of hiding how endeared he was.

“gross.” soonyoung sighed, turning back to the sky. “fifty.”

you giggled. “deal.” there was no way in hell you were going to remember he owed you $50. “i’m thinking… i am having the best time of my life.”

his heart swelled knowing he did well for your birthday celebration.

he let his head loll to the side, watching you. you had your hands folded politely over your ribs and your legs were crossed at the ankles, your feet swaying side to side like there was a song playing that only you could hear. if soonyoung concentrated hard enough, he thought he could hear it too. it sounded like what he imagined his love for you would if it were a song.

you smiled at the stars like you were talking to them. 

“i’m so happy,” you said. “best birthday ever, soonyoung. best month ever. thank you. i love you so much.”

“you’re welcome, y/n,” he said, voice coming out barely above a whisper. “i love you too.” so god damn much.

you turned to look at him when he said that, your smile fading naturally the longer you looked at him. “i…” you trailed off, frowning a little before you continued. “i think… i think i feel lonely, though.”

he mirrored your frown, immediately bringing his body closer to yours. he rested a hand on top of yours. “what’s wrong?”

you opened your mouth but before you could start speaking, you were suddenly crying. 

“y/n?” he sat up, bringing you up with him. “what’s wrong, baby?” his eyes widened at the slip-up, but you were too drunk to notice, frantically wiping the tears that kept streaming down your face.

“i’m so happy,” you breathed, hand still in his. “this is everything i’ve ever wanted. this is everything i could ever dream of having.” 

your words were still slurred and with the addition of the crying to your inebriated state, you’re hiccuping badly as you speak. 

“then why are you crying?” he asked. “why do you feel lonely?”

“this is what i want from y—from…” you hiccuped again. “this is everything i want from someone i’m in love with.”

he felt his heart drop into his stomach, and he couldn’t help the way his hand stiffened in yours. he pulled away.

“oh” was all he could bring himself to say.

what else was he supposed to say to that?

“i’m in love with you. please let me be the one that gets to give this to you.”

“please love me.”

“please don’t break my heart like this.”

he couldn’t say any of it.

“i want you to want… i want…” you kept hiccuping, and despite feeling like his heart was breaking into smithereens, soonyoung found it in himself to rub your back comfortingly. “i want—” you cut yourself off with another hiccup.

“shhh.” it came out in a daze. the sky looked darker. the stars looked duller. the water wasn’t as bright anymore. “it’s okay. it’s okay.” he didn’t know if he was telling you or himself. “it’s okay.”

soonyoung pulled you into his arms, still rubbing your back as he tucked your head under his chin. he didn’t bother trying to find the right words to tell you; he knew you probably wouldn’t remember any of this. so he allowed himself to feel heartbroken as you wept and hiccuped until eventually, you fell asleep.

and when you did, it was his turn. he silently cried until the sun came up, and when it did, soonyoung gathered you up in his arms and carried you back—only as a friend, to a bed you’d never share.

“it hurt,” he says, tears finally beginning to stream down his face.

soonyoung never shied away from crying in front of you; he did it kind of often. but there’s something especially humiliating about it now. he’s wrapped up in his sadness, and it’s suffocating him, making it hard to speak. he thinks if he does, he might choke on his grief.

“it hurt more than anything i’ve ever felt, y/n,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. he isn’t sure if you heard him, but he can’t bring himself to repeat it.

your hands close over his, where they hold the lapel of his jacket around your shoulders. he doesn’t even know when he took it off to put it on you. loving you was exactly like that—an instinct he didn’t have to think twice about. loving you was just something that happened without his knowledge or permission.

“soonyoung,” you call his name, high and desperate. your defenses have come down. you’re not using that scary voice on him anymore. you’re not bracing yourself. he thinks you should be. “that’s not what i meant. i—”

“it’s okay,” he breathes, so many tears in his eyes, he can barely make out the shape of you. he blinks rapidly to expel them. “i’ve had time to—”

“but if you would just let me ex—”

“there’s nothing to explain,” he interjects softly, eyes coming to you now that he can properly see past his tears. “i stayed around, didn’t i?”

your fight falters and you stop trying to talk over him.

“i stayed for seven more years. if i needed you to explain, i would’ve asked the second you woke up sober.”

your shoulders fall and he knows the rest of your fight has dissipated into the night. the next question you ask almost breaks his resolve. “only seven?”

the question comes out small and quiet and defeated, and soonyoung feels his lips tremble. he rolls them between his teeth to stop himself from telling you something he doesn’t want to say: no, of course not only seven. you’ll have me wrapped around your finger until the day i die.

he takes his hands back from under your hold once he’s absolutely sure he won’t say something that would disappoint the version of him that sat on that beach in siquijor, swearing that he wouldn’t let himself feel that heartbroken in the next decade of his life. 

“i didn’t mind waiting seven more years to see if you would ever return my feelings,” he says instead of answering you, fully aware of how badly his voice wavers as he speaks. “my friends, they told me i was insane for letting my 20s go to waste like that. but to me… if i still got to be around you, still give you experiences and love that made you feel like that’s what you deserved from someone you actually were in love with, then… i can’t see the issue in that. i’d happily wait seven more years. because even if it was seven years of the same longing—and even if it was seven years leading to nothing more, it was still seven years of me being able to show you how well i could…”

he swallows the lump in his throat and fails. he shakes his head and just says what he should’ve told you seven years ago.

“how well i could love you. how much i do love you.”

you look dumbfounded, and if this were any other situation—if soonyoung didn’t feel like he was actually fucking dying—he thinks he’d make fun of you. your eyes are the widest he’s ever seen them, and your mouth is parted like you’re poised to say something but you don’t even know what.

“soonie—” you start.

he doesn’t let you finish. he can’t. he’s so close to ending this—to doing the worst thing he’s ever going to have to do—and if he lets you finish, he’ll lose the courage to walk away.

“i told myself… while you slept in my lap on that beach in siquijor, that if by the time you turned 30, we still hadn’t moved past… this…” he can’t stand the look of horror on your face as you start to process what he’s saying. he looks at the sky behind your head instead. “then, i wouldn’t spend my 30s torturing myself anymore. i’d let you go.”

you don’t let even a millisecond pass before you practically scream: “i don’t want you to let me go!” at him so forcefully, he flinches. “i don’t want you to let me go, you stupid idiot! if that’s what you’ve been doing the last, few weeks, ‘letting me go’—” you make exaggerated air quotes with your fingers and a face that tells him you think he’s ridiculous. it catches him so off-guard, he almost laughs. “—then knock it off!”

you slap his chest to each word to punctuate your point. 

“wh—?” he brings his arm up reflexively to defend himself.

“what i meant to tell you, it came out wrong,” you inform him. his arms slowly fall back to his side as he listens to you as closely as he can. “i didn’t even mean to tell you anything, but if drunk me outed me like that, i need you to know that’s not what i meant.”

the words came out of your mouth in a rush like you thought soonyoung wouldn’t let you say them if you took too long. when he doesn’t say anything in the brief silence, you take a deep breath, obviously trying to steady yourself.

“i was lonely. i was really lonely,” you admit, seeming to remember the feeling more than you did the actual conversation. “and yes, it was because i enjoyed that vacation so much and yes, it was because i wished i could have it with someone i was in love with, but i was having it with someone i was in love with!”

everything in soonyoung’s body tenses, like his own defenses are coming up—like this is some kind of joke and his body is preparing to be laughed at. because you just said you were on vacation with someone you were in love with in the philippines… but you were on vacation with him in the philippines… 

his body braces itself.

“i just meant i wanted it to mean more for both of us,” you continue, hands waving erratically between you to drive your point home. “i wanted to be on vacation with you!” 

your brows furrow and your lips thin as you helplessly fight off a wave of tears he knows is pushing to be released. he knows that when you’re too emotional—whether it’s sadness, joy, rage—you cry, and once you do, you end up blubbering for so long, you usually end up asleep at the end of it.

but still, you bravely fight it off, obviously determined to tell soonyoung what you need to.

“but you as my boyfriend! not you as my best friend! there’s no one else i would’ve wanted to be with, soonyoung!”

he’s glad his body is stiff enough to keep his knees from immediately giving out under him. because all soonyoung wants to do now is fall to the floor and cry. cry because he never thought you’d say these words, because he felt like he was getting back something he lost on the beaches of siquijor, because the two of you wasted a decade dancing around each other instead of just fucking saying something.

“do you think i’ve been single our entire friendship for fun?!” you shriek the question through tears. “do you think it’s fun being the 30-year-old virgin who’s never even kissed anyone?! because it’s not!”

you whined about this often early on in your friendship, but eventually the complaints petered out, and he would drive himself crazy wondering if it was because that changed—if someone else had taken those firsts.

did it happen? 

she would tell me.

right?

no, i’m still a dude. that’s weird, she’d probably tell a girl.

no no, i’m her stupid ass best friend. she would tell me!

oh my god, would she tell me?

what if i just die?

and so the cycle would go. he knows it wasn’t any of his business and that if you had lost those firsts to someone else, that was your prerogative, but still, he feels relieved to hear that isn’t the case.

and he knows he has no right to—not when you haven’t had the proper conversation to hash things out yet—but he suddenly feels an overwhelming possessiveness for you. because he waited for you. no one was ever going to make him stray away from you, so he waited for you—never expecting, just hoping. sorely hoping. and now he knows you waited for him too, and now… now, all he can think about is making you his. all soonyoung can think about now is giving you all the things you abstained from in the hopes you’d have it with him of all people.

it’s what you deserve, isn’t it? for waiting? and isn’t he in the business of giving you what you deserve? his hand twitches, begging him to reach for you and kiss you stupid.

“but i didn’t want anyone else! i wanted you!” you point at him almost violently, and his heart grows too big for his chest. “you waited seven years, but i waited ten! TEN, soonyoung! do you—”

his willpower can only withstand so much. at the end of the day, soonyoung is just a man who’s pathetically in love with you, and hearing you say you wanted him—hearing you confirm you waited your entire friendship just for the chance to have him and be with him and only him—it completely undoes his entire being.

soonyoung’s mouth is on yours before his brain can fully process what’s happening. he feels the shock on your lips for only a moment before you’re moving. despite it being your first kiss, you respond quickly, your body knowing exactly what to do with soonyoung’s like it’s second nature.

you taste like tears and champagne, and even with all the extravagant dinners he’s taken you on and the places around the world you’ve traveled to together, this is the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

soonyoung thinks he’s happy to stand here, kissing you and tasting you and listening to your cute, little breaths against him forever. but then your hands start exploring him—his hips, his waist, his chest, before wrapping around his neck and bringing him in to kiss you even deeper. and he knows immediately that all the strength he mustered up to deal with tonight is gone. the moan that comes up his throat is loud and bordering on obscene, but you smile upon taking it into your own mouth, as if you’re feeding on his desire. as if you love the taste of it.

soonyoung doesn’t wait after that. he can’t wait after that. without letting your lips separate, he guides you back into his room, careful to keep you from tripping over the threshold and all the crap he left on the floor when he was busy having his pity parties.

he lays you in his bed gently, thankful that even though it’s unmade, he at least had the housekeeper wash his sheets. he lays on top of you, trying not to let his weight crush you, but when you wrap your arms around him, you press him to your body as close as it can possibly go, and after he releases his entire weight on you, you hold him like even that still isn’t close enough.

it’s all so much. after spending so long hoping you’d one day want him even a fraction as much as he wants you, tasting the excitement on you and feeling the adoration in your hands as they feel every surface of his body they could reach—it’s so much. 

it wears down his self-restraint. 

you don’t seem to mind, though, because when he runs his tongue along your lips, asking permission for more, you open your mouth immediately. and when his tongue slips in and meets yours, the moan he gets back is so loud and uninhibited and hot, he feels it in his dick.

you giggle a little, and though you recover quickly and continue trying to make out with him after that, the sound delights him enough that he stops to look at you. your makeup is tear stained and your eyes are still a little red, but you look worlds different than you did just a few minutes ago. there’s no tightness in your smile, no devastation in your eyes, no anger furrowed into your brows. when he looks at you this close, he realizes he’s never seen you this happy, this excited, or this light—like you’ve been relieved of a burden that was too heavy for you. but really, the most different thing about you now is that you just look like you’re his.

“what’s so funny, hm?” he asks, resting his forehead on yours. at the start of this night, he didn’t think he would ever hear you giggle again. 

“nothing,” you claim, even though your voice still has traces of amusement somewhere in there. your hand snakes up into his hair and starts scratching his scalp. he hums at the sensation. “i love you, soonyoung.”

he lifts his forehead to look at you. it’s his millionth time hearing you say that. it’s the first time he’s hearing it in the context he’s wished to hear it for the last decade. 

you love him. you love him. you love him.

“i’ve always loved you,” you announce unabashedly. “from the very start.”

in retrospect, the proper thing to do would’ve been to tell you he loved you too—so much that he didn’t even know how to process it well enough to attempt to put it into words. but instead, he pushes himself off you, slightly ashamed that your confession made his dick go from semi-hard to rock hard in record time, but insanely elated (and painfully and obviously turned on) at the idea of you having spent your entire friendship loving him just as much. 

when he sits back, his pants uncomfortably pull against his erection, and he winces, glancing down at it and silently scolding it to stop embarrassing him and have some goddamn decorum. 

he clears his throat and looks back at you, where you’re now propped up on your elbows, smiling at his crotch like it’s already yours. it ruins him.

soonyoung is going to tell you he loves you. and sure, you already know because he already did, but now he gets to tell you knowing you feel the same. so he’s going to tell you, and he’s going to say it over and over and over again, but once he does, he gets the feeling that he won’t want to stop at just kissing you.

he knows it’s probably a lot—to go from what you were to… this, and on top of that, lose your first kiss. and even though you made it clear that he’s the only reason you even remained a virgin, he doesn’t want to assume you’re ready to do something as big as have sex for the first time tonight too.

soonyoung wishes he could be a bigger person than the horny teenager he feels like right now. he wishes he could stop this for the both of you and insist on having a conversation first before things get any further like a proper adult would. but you want him and you love him, and it’s driving him absolutely fucking crazy, and if he gets any harder, his dick is going to start hurting.

“how far?” he asks, his voice so pathetically needy, he wants to die. “i don’t want you to feel rushed or pressured. i just…” he falters, trying to find a way to say this without making it sound like it’s all he wants from you. “we wasted so much time.” not a great start. “and i—”

“all the way,” you say, a coy smile on your lips when you interrupt him. his pants stretch even tighter. 

it’s clear he was worrying for nothing; from the way you look at him, he knows you understand what he’s desperately trying to say and failing. 

he watches you with heavy-lidded eyes as you lay yourself back down and wrap your legs around his torso, doing nothing when your already short dress rides all the way up to expose you. 

“please,” you add on so sweetly, he groans. he won’t be lasting long at all tonight.

soonyoung rests his hands on your thighs, thumbs instinctively rubbing circles into the soft skin there as he tries to take a moment to process everything in front of him. he knows if he doesn’t, the excitement will paint over his memories with zero remorse, and all he’ll remember is that it happened—not what he said, did, or heard. and this is absolutely something he needs to remember. 

he has to remember the way your knees quickly and easily fall apart and away from each other at his touch—almost like they’re sighing in relief at his arrival. he has to remember how your lower back arches and your pelvis wriggles underneath his fingertips before he’s even really done anything to you. soonyoung’s gaze rakes over your figure, taking note of every, little thing he can, when finally, they land on something that lays his fears to rest. 

because there is no way he’ll ever forget the moment his eyes found the space between your legs. he stares at you now—right on the spot where your panties are already drenched with your arousal. soonyoung doesn’t care how overwhelming his excitement is right now; there is simply no possible way his brain will be able to gloss over this no matter how many years pass: the moment he saw physical evidence of just how much you craved him and needed him. how much you’ve deprived yourself of him.

and now, he gets to give you anything and everything you want from him.

his hands begin to travel up your thighs, goosebumps following the trail of his fingertips. he stops just shy of your cunt, trying to breathe deeply enough to calm his thunderous heartbeat. if he gets too lost in this, he’ll cum in his pants, and he will never forgive himself. 

he stares hard at your desire, just barely able to keep from screaming when he realizes the dark spot is slowly growing the longer he sits there, unmoving. you squirm under him, and his hands involuntarily squeeze in response. your thighs are plush in his grasp, so full and beautiful, your flesh is forcing its way into the spaces between his fingers and turning white from hard he grips you.

don’t fucking cum right now, you loser, he thinks hard to himself. you cannot cum before anything happens during your first time with y/n. he exhales deeply and slowly. i will literally kill you if you cum right now.

he’s so tempted to look you in the eye just to see if you’re struggling even a fraction of the amount that he is, but he knows eye contact with you right now will just set his progress back. 

when he’s mostly confident he won’t immediately finish in his pants, he has to swallow the idiotic smile that threatens to take over his entire face. finally, soonyoung gives in and he moves. just one finger, pressed against the part of your panties that sinks just a tiny bit more than the rest—right where he plans to be in the next few minutes, stuffing you full as far as he’ll go. 

as soon as you feel his fingertip brush against your entrance, your hole pulses like it’s trying to clamp around something bigger than his finger that isn’t there. he feels some of the control he has on that pathetic smile of his slip, and as if it’s an avalanche, the rest of his control comes crashing down. without thinking about it, his finger sinks the tiniest bit deeper as he drags it up your slit, the wetness from your panties catching on his skin ever so slightly.

when his finger finds and presses on your clit, you begin uncontrollably writhing and gasping beneath him, and his eyes tear themselves away from your cunt long enough to finally meet your gaze. you look at him with so much lust and love and longing—all of it so loudly desperate—he completely loses track of where his finger is and what it’s doing. all he wants to do is latch his lips onto yours again and say what he should’ve at least ten times by now: that he loves you.

so instead of rubbing your clit until he teases your first orgasm out of you like he planned to, he removes his hand from your center so that he can lean forward and kiss you senseless. but as soon as his touch leaves you, a strangled whine forces its way up your throat and past your lips, making him laugh immediately. 

“what?” you ask, your eyes narrowing at him. it should invoke fear in him, but he’s too endeared for that. “why are you laughing?! did i do something embarrassing?”

soonyoung scoffs as he brings himself over you. “‘embarrassing’? no, baby.” he rolls his eyes. “your neediness is not ‘embarrassing.’ it’s fucking hot.”

you turn the prettiest shade of pink. “shut up.”

he grins. “gladly.”

soonyoung kisses your nose, enjoying the shade of pink it turned under your blush. then, he kisses your lips, just for a moment so that he can lean back and look you in the eye when he says:

“i love you. i love you so god damn much, i thought i was going to die having to leave you.”

he knows it’s dramatic, but he was convinced that’s exactly what was happening to him not even an hour ago. the thought of doing life without you by his side made everything look and feel so colorless and dull and boring and ugly. dead was as good a word as any to describe what his life would look like without you. 

“you’re not leaving me,” you say so matter-of-factly, the smile it brings to his face hurts his cheeks. he was so dumb to think he could; even if he had all the strength in the world to end your friendship, you would’ve never let him off the hook that easily. 

“i’m not,” he says. 

soonyoung gets to work covering you in as many kisses as humanly possible, his lips pressing against your mouth, jaw, neck, collarbone—wherever you have skin, his lips are all over it. your gasps and moans reach a fever pitch, and he figures it’s time to stop making you wait. 

“you tell me if you want to stop, okay?” he asks, lips brushing against your ears as he speaks. “and we’ll stop, no questions asked.” 

you nod so eagerly—so obediently—he can’t help but smirk. his tongue darts out to lick your lobe and bring it between his teeth to nip at before he starts kissing his way down your body. 

“you sound so pretty,” he tells you as you continue to make sure he knows exactly how good you feel. all moans and groans and whispered begging. “exactly how i imagined you’d sound.” his lips graze your already hard nipples through the fabric of your dress and he earns another loud whimper. “fuck, even better actually.”

he pulls your dress down and off one shoulder to expose the breast he was just teasing, and when he sees you bare, he hangs his head, letting his forehead meet your chest as he grunts loudly. 

what is my life? he thinks to himself. this is literally insane.

soonyoung flattens his tongue against your nipple, and you inhale sharply, your hips immediately bucking up. he doesn’t realize his eyes have fluttered closed until he opens them to look at you and make sure you’re okay. from the way your eyes roll into the back of your head and your mouth hangs open in dazed ecstasy, he thinks it’s safe to assume you’re okay.

“soonyoung.”

god, his name sounds so good when you say it, especially when you say it like this.

“fuck,” he grumbles against your tit. he swears his dick is throbbing from how hard you have him.

“lower! please, god, lower!” you order him. 

“whatever you want,” he breathes against your skin. 

but he’s not moving before he has the chance to leave a tiny, little something that can lay claim to you—something only he and you will see. he presses his hand against the side of your breast, groaning at how full you are in his palm. he leans down and bites into the flesh just above your nipple. your hips jerk up as he sucks on the spot just long enough that he knows it will stay a few days. he smiles when he releases you, the hickey already turning a beautiful purple. 

“pretty,” he mutters. he wants to cover you in them. he kisses the mark gently before removing the other strap of your dress. 

with the bottom of your dress completely ridden up and the top half bunched around your waist, you’re almost completely naked, and already, soonyoung can hardly refrain from jumping off his bed and running around the room screaming.

fucking breathe, bro.

he gently lifts your hips up and off the bed so that he can slip both your dress and your ruined panties off your body in one go. once he does, all the refraining he’s been doing tonight comes to a brusque end. 

“oh my god!” he shouts, burying his face into your clothes and groaning into them. “i can’t believe this is my life right now, oh my god.” 

soonyoung presses your clothes against his eyes so hard, he thinks he should see stars, but still, all he can see are your perfect tits and your bare, glistening cunt and the sensual look in your eyes like they’re all forever burned into his retinas. or maybe his eyes are open?

he blinks and brings your clothes down just enough to be able to take a peek at you. nope, the image of your naked body in his bed are definitely just burned into his eyeballs. 

“oh my god, i really have you naked in my bed right now, oh my god oh my god oh my god.” he probably says it 20 more times. he’s not sure. 

“soonyoung!” you berate his behavior the way you always do. he smiles into your dress because even as everything is literally changing before his eyes… nothing has. you’re still his best friend, pretending to get mad at him for being silly. he knows from the fond way you look at him that you aren’t mad at all. “focus! come on, you’re just teasing me now. please.”

“okay, okay!” he says, voice muffled by your dress. “i’m so sorry, i’m not trying to tease you, i swear. i just…” he stammers, unable to stop the whole bunch of nothing that comes spilling out of his mouth. “i’m—just, i—it’s just, like… what?” the question comes out as a laugh. “y’know?” 

you raise an eyebrow at him and he realizes he isn’t really sure what he’s asking you. 

“like, what the actual fuck?” he adds like that will help explain. 

you groan. “it’s crazy how quickly you go from sex god to loser.”

soonyoung feels his face immediately fall into a glare—one you’re used to seeing whenever you two bicker. “you know…” he says, eyes narrowed at you. “my favorite thing about you has always been your patience.”

he throws your clothes aside, hands going to his shirt to begin unbuttoning it. 

“good thing i have a lot of it then,” you claim. your bratty smirk falls right off your face as you watch him slowly undress. 

“right.”

when he shrugs his shirt off and lets it join your clothes on the floor, your eyes widen like you’re seeing him shirtless for the first time. your eyes sweep up and down his torso, your chest heaving as you begin to breathe harder, and it almost makes him shy—almost makes him want to hug himself and jokingly tell you to stop ogling him like a piece of meat. but he also enjoys it more than anything. 

so many times you’ve been half naked together, wearing swimsuits at the beach or at the pool, and although he’s relished having your eyes on him before, this feels different. you stare at him shamelessly now, making no move to avert your eyes the way you used to. this is where he would make a joke to lighten the mood—to give you an out from a situation you might feel caged in by. 

this time, he just allows himself the space to revel in this feeling of being adored. 

“wait,” you say suddenly when he stands up off the bed and his hands start undoing his belt. you crawl over to him, completely naked, and he thinks he might have a heart attack watching you on all fours like this. 

“change your mind? it’s fine if you do,” he assures you, already fastening his belt before his dick can get any more ideas about where the night is going. 

“no,” you laugh as you rest your hands on top of his. “i’m not going to change my mind, soonie.”

you sound as sure as he does about this. it relaxes him immediately. you smile at him before you press your naked body against his, tangle your hands in his hair, and bring his face down to lock lips with you again. he holds you delicately as your tongues slide against each other—different from how he’s pressed, tugged, and groped at you tonight. he forces himself to be gentler. he forces himself to slow down and enjoy the feeling of being in love with you openly. 

he says as much. “i love you. oh my god, i love you. holy shit.”

“don’t start with the loser behavior again, please,” you mutter against the kiss. he wants to laugh, but he doesn’t dare leave your lips. “but i love you too.”

soonyoung doesn’t think he’ll get tired of hearing it. the past 10 years of his life have led up to this moment. it will take so much more than that for him to ever get used to the feeling of you telling him you love him.

he rests his forehead against yours and smiles. “i’m so happy.”

“me too, soonie.”

he watches as your hands leave his hair and travel down his chest, taking their time to trace every line and curve of every muscle. you finish the job of undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans, and that’s about all he can take before he decides it’s time to stop holding back. 

before you can even touch his zipper, he grabs your face and kisses you roughly, tongue twisting with yours immediately. he kisses you like he’s held his breath for 10 years and you’re air. you kiss him back the same, exact way. 

he finishes undressing, kicking his pants away and wasting no time picking you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he does. his cock twitches violently once it’s sandwiched between you and his stomach, and he has you laying back in his bed in mere seconds. 

our bed, a voice in his head reminds him. a bed we can share. if you want.

when you tear yourself away from him to catch your breath, your eyes immediately go south, and he doesn’t have to follow your gaze to know what you’re gaping at. 

“see something you like?”

you don’t even pretend to hear what he said. “uh, what?”

it inflates his ego to unprecedented levels, but he doesn’t gloat and annoy you the way he usually would. mostly because his laughs are cut off with your frantic begging. 

“soonyoung,” you whisper so suddenly and seriously, he freezes. “put it in me.”

the order catches him by so much surprise, he laughs even harder than before. “i can’t just put it in you.”

you shove him and he pushes off the bed to put some space in between you. he looks at you, amused. “what?! what do you mean you can’t just put it in me?” you sound the most offended he’s ever heard you. “is that not how sex works? you put that in me? like… over and over again?

“baby, please,” his laughs are bordering on uncontrollable wheezing. “you’re making this so unsexy.”

“you made it unsexy first!” you complain. “put it in me, soonyoung!”

he wants to keep pretending that this is incredibly unsexy, but this exchange, however goofy, is just making him want to fuck you even more. “stop saying that!”

“why?! you keep making me wait!” 

the way you complain and beg makes soonyoung briefly forget that you’re losing your virginity, and he isn’t letting that happen without proper foreplay first—without getting at least one orgasm out of you.

“pu—”

before you can tell him to put it in you again, he presses his hand against your mouth. “okay!” he says, raising his voice to drown out your muffled pleas. “okay! shhh. relax, and i will. alright?” your eyes widen and he feels a burn in his stomach when he sees the submission in them. you nod. “good girl.”

you moan into his hand and grind your hips up into his. 

“oh, you like that?” he asks, smirking. all you do is squirm more. 

he releases your mouth, and when you stay silent on your own accord—so willingly compliant—he thinks there are a few things he’d like to try in bed later on down the line.

soonyoung plants a wet kiss on your lips before he rests his hand against your neck, eyes watching as you swallow underneath his fingertips. he thinks you look pretty like this: bare throat adorned by his fingers. he has a passing thought to ask you if you would ever be into being choked, but there’s no fucking way he’d do that during your first time having sex. he lets the thought go, making note of it for a later time. 

“so pretty,” he says, finger tapping your lower lip. when you take his finger into your mouth all the way, sucking it and releasing it with a pop, he has to spend a few moments reminding himself he can’t cum already. “jesus christ…” he sighs. he needs to move fast or he will be embarrassing himself tonight. “let me know if i do anything you don’t like, okay?”

you nod quickly—impatiently. your enthusiasm stutters when he doesn’t immediately “put it in” like you’ve been begging. you frown as he pulls away again, but when he settles with his head between your legs, your tune changes immediately. 

“oh.”

soonyoung has dreamed about this moment for so long. he’s had obscene, vulgar thoughts about you—thoughts he would touch himself to. he’s spent an embarrassing amount of nights moaning your name while vigorously grinding into his fist, and all it took for him to cum was the thought of tasting you. he didn’t even have to think about fucking into your pussy or how wet you would be or how warm you would feel—all he thought about was eating you out until you came all over his face, and that would do it for him. 

if he was looking to get a quick orgasm, maybe release some frustration from a day spent hanging out with you, he’d just rub one out in the shower. but if it was one of those nights he was tossing and turning, thinking about how much he loved you and how much he wanted you to be his, he’d throw his blankets off, grab a bottle of lotion, a box of tissues, and sometimes, when he was feeling especially depraved, his favorite photos he’s taken of you. there was something about looking at photos no one else has seen of you—no matter how ordinary or innocent—that turned him on.

his daydreams always started with getting you sinfully wet. yes, with your own arousal, but with his spit too. he’d massage it into your clit, mixing the both of you and your pleasures together until your hips are bucking and shoving your needy cunt in his face. then, he’d give in and lap your clit gently and the first taste would send his eyes rolling into the back of his head. he would try to stay cool and composed, but realistically, he knew tasting you would send him into a frenzy. 

he’d already be close by this point in his fantasies, whining and groaning, his phone and photos of you long forgotten because he has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep from coming before he could finish playing everything out in his head.  

because soonyoung couldn’t cum before his favorite part: when he would imagine shoving his face as far in between your legs as he could, extending his tongue as far into you as humanly possible. you’d say his name the way no one has ever said his name. you’d pull at his hair until he was sure you were permanently damaging all of his follicles. sometimes, he’d immediately cum after this. other times, he’d be able to at least get to the part where he starts fucking you with his fingers. 

on lucky days, he would reach the end of his dreams. by this time, he’d be feverishly tugging on his cock, a mess of sweat and whimpers of your name as he thought about you squirting all over his face. he would drink you up like it’s the fucking elixir of life. you would make the filthiest mess of his face—chin dripping, cheeks sticky, lips swollen and covered in you—and he would thank you for it and beg for more. of course, more would never come because he would make a mess of his own hand after that. 

he always felt like a pervert after—always felt so guilty picturing his best friend like this and doing something so dirty with you in mind—but the next night would come and the next night and the next, and he couldn’t think of anything else. anyone else. 

and as lewd and impure and delicious and downright euphoric as his fantasies were, nothing could have prepared him for how much fucking better the real thing would feel. how much better the real you would taste. 

by the time you cum on his face, not once but twice, he knows this is something he can do for the rest of his life. he would never even need you to fuck him or blow him or give him a handjob; all he literally needs is to devour your cunt any time you’d grant him the privilege to and he’d be a happy man for the rest of his life. 

you’re still panting, chest heaving from your orgasms, when soonyoung climbs up over you once more and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing, nipping, licking, and whispering i-love-yous from your collarbone and up until he reaches your lips. he kisses you lightly just in case you don’t want to put your lips on him after he just ate you out, but when you deepen the kiss and hug him even closer, he thinks you might actually like the taste of you on his mouth. 

“soonie,” you eventually whisper against him. 

“mmm?” 

you say something that he’s been wanting to hear for a decade. you confirm something he’s been desperately searching for signs of for your entire friendship. “i want to be yours. i want to be yours so bad.”

he stops peppering you with kisses and watches you carefully, like this all might still be a hallucination that will fade if he gets too lost in the moment. but you remain where you are, looking at him with as much love as he imagines he’s always looked at you. tears gather in your eyes, some escaping the corners. he catches every single one that does, pressing it back into your skin with his finger. 

when you give him a small smile to tell him you’re okay—that these are just tears of happiness—he leans in, presses his cheek to yours, and promises you, “then i’ll make you mine.”

just being inside you is enough to make soonyoung want to cry. he does his absolute fucking best not to because you already are and he doesn’t want you to think of anything other than yourself and your pleasure during your first time. but he wants to cry as he buries his face into your neck and slowly pushes into you, only moving whenever you say it’s okay to.

when he woke up today, he did it with swollen eyes from a night spent crying over you. he tortured himself all day, thinking about how every last time he had with you was the last and he didn’t even know it—the last laugh he heard, the last smile he saw, the last time you bickered with him, the last time you told him you loved him. he steeled himself to face your tears or your screaming or whatever else you did to him when he ended your friendship. 

at the start of the day, soonyoung was preparing for his life to be over—for you to take every good thing he’s ever had and felt with you when he forced you to walk away.

now, he’s fully buried inside you, forehead resting against yours as you both struggle to adjust to the overwhelming feeling of each other. it’s when you tell soonyoung that after 10 years, there’s nothing that will change your mind about him, that he finally moves. 

“oh fuck,” he breathes as he starts rolling his hips, cock dragging in and out of you in an astonishingly seamless fit. “your cunt is perfect.”

you bloom at the praise, and you don’t shy away from returning it, chanting his name over and over again, whispers of how good he feels wherever you can fit them in between—how good he is for you, how he was made for you. 

“y/n,” he gasps. he tries to tell you that if you keep saying his name like this—like he’s yours—he’s going to cum inside you. but all that comes out is: “oh my god.”

and all you say is “soonyoung” again and again and again. he’s never put any thought into his birth-given name, but tonight, he decides it’s his favorite string of letters. he never wants to hear you say anyone else’s name. he never wants anyone other than you to say his name. it’s yours and yours alone. 

at some point, he can tell you can handle even more, and he pushes up off you, using the headboard as leverage as he pounds into you harder and rougher, rhythm becoming erratic and frenzied. the noises that come out of your mouth are so nasty, he’s on the brim of losing it. 

“oh my god. look at you,” he pants, his sweat dripping from his face, his neck, and his chest onto you. a drop lands on the corner of your mouth, and without hesitating, your tongue darts out to lick it up, and he groans.

it’s too much: your neediness, your obedience, your eagerness. your tits—one sporting his hickey—bouncing wildly as he fucks you at a brutal pace. your unbelievably tight cunt, sucking his cock in so desperately, near-strangling it and refusing to let him go. 

“so fucking perfect,” he tells you. 

you make it clear that you’re not lasting long—that your third orgasm is on the horizon. it’s a bittersweet realization; on one hand, he’s relieved because he’s been holding his own orgasm off since his tongue met your clit. on the other, he never wants to stop fucking you. 

but this is just the start, he tries to remind himself. this is just the first time, and there will be so many more now—now that you’re his and he’s yours. 

your voice rings loudly in his ears again. i want to be yours so bad.

his voice is hoarse when he asks, “do you feel like you’re mine yet?”

you nod frantically, pussy squeezing tightly around him like the thought is pushing you even closer to finishing. “yes, god, yes. yes!” 

“say it,” he demands, eyes never leaving yours. he can’t look away when you look like you would say or do anything for him. 

“i’m yours,” you say immediately. “soonie… i’m yours, soonyoung.” his name comes out in a tortured whimper. 

“i never want to hear another name come out of your mouth ever again,” he declares. “ah, fuck, holy shit. you feel so fucking good, baby. just for me, huh? oh fuck.” his orgasm is begging to be released, but he refuses to let up until you reach yours. “you’re mine. and i’m yours.”

you barely finish agreeing and calling soonyoung “mine” when your pussy is suddenly and violently quivering around him, pulsing and throbbing as you ride through your third orgasm of the night. the feeling of your climax squeezing around soonyoung is unreal, and he pulls out just in time to avoid coming inside of you, painting your beautiful, soft skin with his bliss. 

it feels like it lasts forever, the spurts of white splattering you. he thinks he could get hard again when you let your mouth hang open and catch some of him on your tongue.

“holy shit,” he breathes when he’s tugged himself dry, leaning back and trying to catch his breath. he feels drops of sweat sliding down his body everywhere, his muscles burning deliciously. 

soonyoung looks down at you and is pleased to see you covered with him: his cum, his sweat, his spit. he made good on his promise. if you don’t look like his right now, he has no idea what you look like.

“c’mere,” you whine, reaching for him with grabby hands when you have no energy to sit up and actually take hold of him. 

he smiles and leans in to kiss you, before retrieving a towel from the bathroom to clean you both up with. 

for the rest of the night, you two stay tangled up in each other’s arms and talk about when you fell in love.

you: when you first met him. 

him: when you first walked into the room.

neither of you know if the other is telling the truth or if you’re just trying to win the i-loved-you-first competition (you’re both telling the truth). 

you talk about what the future looks like. you decide you don’t know for sure, but one thing you’re confident about is that you’ll be facing it together. one thing soonyoung is sure about is that he’ll be making you his wife.

you ask if you can make your anniversary two days from now so it doesn’t land on your birthday. soonyoung asks if you can make it two days prior so that he can forget that he was trying to leave you on your 30th birthday. you agree. 

you both run through every big moment either of you can remember being so hopelessly in love with each other, it hurt and what the other person was thinking at that moment. for every memory of yours soonyoung can remember, he’s able to tell you he was suffering just as much as you were. the same is true for you. for every memory he can’t remember, he feels like a kid, giggling and kicking his feet in bed with you hearing about how you were equally, pathetically down bad for him.

your birthday party is long forgotten, traded for an intimate night getting to know each other in drastically different ways than you did as best friends. soonyoung feels like he’s meeting you for the first time again—a privilege he never thought he would be afforded ever again. aside from learning what you liked from your time in his bed tonight, he learns a lot.

like for one, you actually are very into physical affection, something soonyoung thought you didn’t like displaying since you were constantly shoving him away; you just avoided it because it exacerbated your feelings for him and blurred the lines too much for you. in fact, you stay burrowed into his side the entire night, whining any time he moved a tiny bit away, even when it was just to adjust his position or reach to turn off the lamp. you love playing with his hair and tracing little patterns on his chest (he thinks one of the things you traced was your names together). you constantly thread his fingers with yours and when you get tired of that, you still keep your pinkies linked.

he learns you love hanging out at his apartment more than you like the fancy dinners. you feel the most at home with him when you’re actually home with him. you tell him your favorite nights are when you’re in charge of placing a food delivery order at his place while he unwinds from his workday, showering and changing (and unbeknownst to you, probably jacking off in the shower to make sure he doesn’t accidentally get hard while you two hang out). you say it feels like you’re his wife and this is your home too. the sentiment is enough to make him tear up, and you, of course, tease him mercilessly once a fat teardrop lands on your head.

by the time the sun is rising, soonyoung realizes you both have rewritten siquijor in the confines of his bedroom. all the miscommunication (or absolute lack thereof) and the pain and heartbreak have been replaced. from where you two lay in bed, he watches the sun’s rays start to reach into the sky, turning it stunning shades of orange, pink, purple, and blue, and for the first time in seven years, he doesn’t cringe away from it and the feelings of loneliness it used to bring. he doesn’t feel heartbroken all over again like he used to.

this time, the sun rises, and soonyoung feels so ridiculously happy. you quietly watch the sky with him, and he thinks you know what he’s thinking of as you continuously trace hearts, one after the other, never-ending, into his skin.

“it’s a new day,” you say quietly.

“it is,” he agrees, his heart full. “it’s a new day, and i love you even more than i did yesterday.”

you hug him tighter to you even though there is literally no space between you.

“i love you, soonie.” you yawn. “is it time to say good night?”

“it’s morning, baby.”

“no, we didn’t go to sleep. it’s definitely still night.”

he grins and doesn’t bother arguing with that logic. he moves to get out of bed, but you immediately lock your arms so he can’t. he snorts. “i’m just going to pull the curtains so we can sleep.”

you sigh like it’s still an inconvenience, but you release him all the same. “fine. you should get, like, a remote for them or something. isn’t that what rich people do?”

he rolls his eyes as he gets up and closes the curtains, bidding the sunrise—the best of his life—a farewell for now. “rich people stay rich by not buying things they don’t need, baby.”

“i don’t think so,” you disagree, arms opening again for soonyoung to lay back in.

“you know what, whatever you say,” he says as you kiss all the skin you can reach from where you hug him. he preens at the feeling. “you’re always right.”

you hum, smiling against him. “good boyfriend.”

“soon-to-be husband,” he mutters before yawning.

you giggle the same way you have been every time he’s corrected you tonight. “soonie-be-husband.”

he scoffs. “boo,” he heckles you. “bad! get off the stage!” you laugh harder, and it coaxes a soft smile out of him as he watches you.

“best friend” doesn’t seem like such a bad title in this moment anymore. he thinks he gets it now that he’s able to call you even more than that; it’s such an honor to be able to be both your boyfriend and your best friend now. it’s such an honor to be able to build something more on a foundation of friendship as strong as the one he shares with you.

when the laughter subsides, you both sigh, sinking into the bed further and getting comfortable.

“good night, love of mine,” he says, kissing the top of your head.

“mine,” you repeat like you can’t get enough of the sound of it. “yours.”

soonyoung smiles and his eyes flutter closed with exhaustion, thoughts bleary but still painted with you and the last 10 years as he starts to drift off to sleep. if this is what he gets to have now, whatever pain he withstood and however much time he wasted is nothing to him—just a moot point in the story you’ll both tell for years to come.

he dreams of you two in siquijor that night, this time both of you sober and wrapped in each other and in love, with the rest of your lives ahead of you.

bonus (performance unit group chat):

[nerdycheol]

Rent-A-Boyfriend || SVT

💘 a rental romance series 💘

divider by @cafekitsune

Thank you for 500 followers (I still can’t believe it 🥹)! To celebrate, I’m dropping something special—a series that started with a single unhinged thought:

what if you could rent a fake boyfriend from an app... and accidentally caught feelings?

🌟 COMING SOON (3rd July): I’ll be posting each one as a standalone drabble—but all under the same theme, so you can binge your faves or pick your bias. Hope you enjoy renting them as much as I enjoy writing them 💌

rent a boyfriend here! | join my permanent taglist

Choi Seungcheol

Your parents wanted someone respectable on your arm at a high-stakes gala. You expected charm, maybe a few photo ops—but Seungcheol treats the event like a high-stakes operation. He’s subtly steering you through crowds, keeping a protective eye on your every move. It was supposed to be for show—but the way he moves around you says otherwise.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Yoon Jeonghan

What starts as a petty plan to provoke your situationship quickly spirals when Jeonghan decides he has his own agenda. He’s charming, persuasive, and far too good at playing the part—but he doesn’t stop there. Suddenly, he’s helping with little schemes, showing up uninvited (but never unwelcome), and somehow ends up making himself at home in your life—and on your couch.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Joshua Hong

You needed someone who could blend in at your cousin’s picture-perfect wedding—filled with watchful eyes and whispered prayers. Joshua fits the mold effortlessly, all soft smiles and perfect manners. But in between performances, his glances linger, his concern feels too genuine, and suddenly, you’re not sure what’s part of the act—and what isn’t.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Wen Junhui

A language barrier seemed like the easiest way to avoid awkward small talk during your solo trip abroad. Jun arrives looking like a dream, translator app in hand and eyes full of curiosity. You expect distance—but instead, you find connection in shared silences, quiet gestures, and the way he always seems to be right by your side.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Kwon Soonyoung

You hired him to be someone else’s fake boyfriend—your best friend, who deserved a reminder of what good love looks like. Hoshi steps in like a rom-com lead, full of energy and affection. The only problem? He thinks you’re the one he’s supposed to impress. And somehow, along the way… he starts to.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Jeon Wonwoo

A harmless lie at work spirals when your coworkers demand proof of your made-up boyfriend. Enter Wonwoo, quiet and composed, playing the part a little too well. He blends into the scene with soft smiles and subtle touches—until the night takes a turn and he draws the line between fake and real with unexpected conviction.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Lee Jihoon

Showing up alone would’ve been too sad, but bringing a boyfriend would’ve been too obvious. That’s why you brought an ex—specifically, a painfully attractive one. Woozi plays the role with precision: cold, indifferent, just the right amount of sting. But then he starts going off-script, and the lines between act and intention start to blur.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Xu Minghao

Your boss wouldn’t stop bragging about their plus-one for the art gala, so you decided to show up with your own. Minghao arrives sharp-tongued and sharper dressed, casually dissecting every sculpture and sparking debates like it’s his job. Somewhere between holding your hand and calling your boss pretentious, he becomes the main exhibit of the night.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Kim Mingyu

You signed up for a fake-dating challenge as a joke, something light and temporary. Mingyu shows up with the whole boyfriend starter pack—cooking, cleaning, carrying your groceries like a pro. It’s all fun and games… until the cameras are off and people start asking when the two of you became real.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Lee Seokmin

You hired him to get your mom off your back. DK is everything she could want—thoughtful, helpful, maybe a little too perfect. He wins over your family like it’s second nature and somehow slips into your life with ease. You tell yourself it’s all pretend, but the little notes he leaves behind suggest otherwise.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Boo Seungkwan

What started as a plan to one-up your ex turned theatrical fast. Seungkwan doesn’t just play the role—he builds an entire storyline, complete with shared memories and inside jokes you didn’t know you had. He’s loud, proud, and fully committed. But beneath all the drama and performance, you start to catch moments that feel a little too genuine to be fake.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Choi Vernon

You weren’t expecting much when you booked the cheapest option on the app. Vernon is quiet, hands in his pockets, and doesn’t try too hard. But there’s something about the way he listens—really listens. Every so often, he says something that cuts through the noise, soft and sincere, and makes you forget this isn’t supposed to mean anything.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

Lee Chan

You just wanted practice—a rehearsal date to work through the nerves before the real thing. He arrives with cue cards, a practiced smile, and way too much enthusiasm. At first, it’s all predictable, even a little awkward. But somewhere between his over-prepared charm and unexpected confidence, he flips the script—and suddenly, it feels less like a test run and more like the real deal.

rent here: [Coming soon to your doorstep]

© nerdycheol. Please respect the creator — do not repost, copy, or translate without permission.