soobin lets you slide onto him while he’s soft so you can feel him slowly grow hard inside you.
❛ content 2.8k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, power bottom!male reader, nerd!soobin, getting hard while inside, big dick!soobin, unprotected sex (p in a), cockwarming kinda, riding, creampie, praise, lots of kisses.
"can we put it in soft and feel it grow together?"
the question hangs in the air of soobin's dimly lit room, completely severing the comfortable silence that had settled over them like a well-worn blanket.
soobin's pen freezes mid-annotation over his biology textbook, and for a solid three seconds, or maybe just a little more, his brain — usually so quick, so sharp when it came to memorizing diagrams and reciting historical dates — completely short-circuits.
he hears your words, processes each one individually, but putting them together into a coherent concept feels like trying to solve a calculus problem underwater.
beside him, you're already wiggling with barely contained excitement, your phone abandoned face-down on the mattress. you're watching your boyfriend with those eager eyes, waiting, practically vibrating.
soobin slowly turns his head, and he can feel the heat creeping up his neck, flooding his cheeks. his glasses have slid down his pretty nose slightly, and he pushes them up with one finger, a nervous habit.
"what?!"
but you're already leaning into him, your hand finding his knee through the soft gray fabric of his sweatpants.
"i'm serious! think about it, babe."
your voice is that special kind of excited, the one soobin usually hears when you're explaining a new game you're completely obsessed with or suggesting a takeout place you've been dying to try.
"we've never done it like that. it's always, you know... we're both already hard, and it's kind of rushed and intense. but this..." you squeeze his knee, your thumb tracing a small circle. "this would be different. slower. we could just... be together. and feel everything."
soobin's heart is doing something erratic in his chest.
he's still holding his pen, still surrounded by highlighters and flashcards, and his ridiculously attractive boyfriend is sitting on his bed, talking about his dick like it's the most natural thing in the world. which, okay, it is, they've been together for eight months, they're past the awkward stage. but this is... new.
"you want to..." soobin swallows, his throat suddenly dry. he glances down at his own lap, then back at you, his cheeks impossibly pinker. "you want to sit on it? while it's... you know?"
"soft, yeah."
you nod enthusiastically, scooting closer, and your thigh presses against his.
"i just keep thinking about what it would feel like. the sensation of it... waking up inside me. getting harder because of me, because of us," your voice drops a little, losing some of its excited energy and gaining something warmer, something more intimate. "i think it would feel really good, babe. really close."
and that's the thing.
soobin has never been able to deny you anything when you look at him like that, when your voice goes soft and you say his name like it means something more than just letters strung together. he's completely, utterly gone for you, and you know it. you use that power sometimes, but never cruelly. always like this — to pull him closer, to bring him into a moment with you.
he sets his pen down carefully, marking his place in the textbook with a sticky note; a small, practical gesture that's so distinctly him that it makes your heart clench.
"you really want to?" soobin asks softly, his voice quieter now, a little shy.
"yeah, more than anything right now," you admit, and it's the truth.
the textbook, the phone, the outside world — it's all completely faded away. there is just soobin, in his ridiculously soft-looking oversized white t-shirt and those grey sweatpants that you've told him a hundred times should be illegal, his dark hair falling over his forehead, his glasses framing those warm, curious eyes that are currently fixed entirely on you.
soobin bites his lower lip, a telltale sign that he's thinking, he's considering. then, slowly, he shifts on the bed, putting his textbook on the nightstand. he leans back against the headboard, the wood creaking softly, and his long legs stretch out, then bend slightly, creating a space for you, an invitation.
"okay," he breathes out, the word carrying a mix of nervousness and genuine curiosity. "let's... let's try."
and oh, you don't need to be told twice.
you're moving immediately, crawling over the messy comforter to settle between your boyfriend’s legs. soobin watches you, his hands coming up to softly rest on your hips as you straddle him, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs.
you're face to face now, close enough to see the tiny mole under his eye, the way his eyelashes flutter.
"hi," you whisper, a stupid, giddy smile spreading across your face.
a matching smile tugs at soobin's lips, despite his obvious embarrassment.
"hi," he whispers back. his hands are warm through the thin fabric of your pajama pants. "this is so weird."
"good weird or bad weird?"
"just... weird. different."
soobin ducks his head slightly, looking at where your bodies meet, at the tentatively interested bulge in his own pants that's nowhere near full attention.
"are you sure you're gonna be comfortable? what if—"
you cut him off with a kiss; it's soft, just a brush of lips, simply meant to soothe.
"we'll go slow. if it's weird or uncomfortable, we can just stop. okay?"
soobin nods against your mouth. "okay."
you kiss him again, deeper this time, and you feel his huge hands tighten on your hips. you rock forward experimentally, just a small shift of weight, and soobin makes a tiny sound against your lips.
you break the kiss to sit back slightly, your hands finding the hem of his oversized t-shirt. "can i?"
soobin lifts his arms without a word, and you pull the shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind you, and your breath catches, like it always does.
you've already seen him naked countless times, but the sight of his pretty bare chest, the smooth expanse of pale skin, the subtle definition of muscle from carrying heavy books and the occasional gym session with his friends — it never gets old. he's beautiful in a way that feels accidental, unassuming.
soobin doesn't seem to fully realize how hot he is, and that, somehow, makes him even hotter.
your fingers find the waistband of his sweatpants, and you look at him for permission. once again, soobin gives a small, shy nod. you tug them down, along with his boxers, just enough. his cock lies soft against his thigh, and you feel a fresh wave of heat pool in your stomach. it's still him, still soobin, still the part of him that makes you feel so incredibly full and complete.
it's just... resting.
you shimmy out of your own pajama pants and boxers quickly, not wanting to break the moment. when you settle back on his lap, it's skin-to-skin, his soft length pressed against the curve of your ass. soobin hisses in a breath, his fingers digging into your hips.
you position yourself carefully, one hand on soobin’s shoulder for balance, the other reaching down to guide him. your eyes meet his.
"ready?"
he looks terrified and thrilled in equal measure.
"ready."
you shift your weight, lowering yourself slowly. the head of soobin’s soft cock presses against your entrance, and for a moment, it just... sits there. it's an odd sensation, really — the familiar pressure, but without the familiar hardness. it feels almost impossibly soft, pliable.
you take a breath and push down gently.
the slide is different; way slower. there is no resistance in the same way, because he's soft, but your body still has to accommodate his size. even soft, soobin is... well, considerable. you feel yourself stretching around him, taking him in inch by inch, and the sensation is so unique, so new, that a shaky moan escapes your lips.
soobin's eyes are wide.
"oh," he breathes. "oh, wow."
"you okay?" you manage to ask, pausing when you're about halfway seated.
soobin nods frantically, his hands softly stroking up and down your sides.
"y-yeah. it's just... it feels so warm, and so tight. but it's also different. it's like... i can feel everything. i can feel every part of you."
you lower yourself the rest of the way, and then you're fully seated, his soft cock buried completely inside you. you sit there for a moment, just breathing, just feeling; the weight of him, the fullness, the strange, intimate knowledge that he's inside you but not hard inside you.
it's like a secret, a moment stolen from time.
you're both still for a long, breathless moment. soobin's hands are splayed across your lower back, warm and grounding, and you can feel his heartbeat, or maybe it's yours — it's hard to tell anymore when you're this close.
"how does it feel?" you whisper, your forehead resting against his.
"warm," he repeats, his voice soft with wonder. "and... tight. but it's like..." he struggles for words, his brow furrowing adorably. "it's like i can feel you holding me. not like... fucking. just holding."
you smile, pressing a gentle kiss to soobin’s lips.
"yeah. that's what i wanted."
you start to move, but not in any real rhythm.
just small, subtle shifts of your hips. you were rocking, more than anything, simply testing the sensation. with each tiny movement, you feel him, soft and pliant, moving inside you, and it's incredibly intimate in a way you hadn't tully anticipated.
soobin's hands roam your back, your sides, his touch full of reverence. your boyfriend is looking at you like you're something so precious, something he can't quite believe is real. his cheeks are still flushed that pretty pink you love so much, his lips slightly parted.
"you're so beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself.
you feel a flutter of warmth in your chest that has nothing to do with where you're connected.
"so are you."
you kiss him again, deeper this time. your tongue slides against his, slow and exploratory, and soobin’s hands come up to cup your face, holding you close. the kiss deepens, becomes more urgent, more hungry. you feel his hips twitch beneath you, a small, unconscious thrust.
and then, finally, you feel it — the slightest change; a thickening, a growing weight inside you. you gasp against his mouth at the very new sensation, pulling back just enough to look at him.
soobin’s eyes are hazy, his pupils blown wide.
"soobin," you breathe. "i can feel you."
he looks down, as if he could see through both your bodies to where they're joined.
"it's you," soobin whispers, his voice wrecked. "it's because of you. you feel so good."
another small, unconscious thrust. another surge of growth. soobin’s cock is filling out inside you, pressing against your walls in a way it couldn't when it was soft. the sensation is really overwhelming — the gradual stretch, the increasing fullness… you can feel every ridge, every vein as they become more pronounced.
you can feel soobin getting harder because of you, because of the way your body is wrapped around him, because of the kisses, because of the closeness.
"oh—my god," soobin pathetically whimpers, his head falling back against the headboard. his hands grip your hips tighter, his knuckles white. "oh my god, that feels... that feels so..."
"i know," you groan, and you start to move with more purpose now, rolling your hips in a slow circle. each movement seems to encourage him, to draw more blood, more hardness. "i can feel every second of it. you're getting so hard inside me, babe."
soobin makes a sound that's somewhere between a moan and a whine, high-pitched and desperate.
"d-don't stop. please don't stop."
you don't. you keep moving, keep kissing him, keep whispering praise against his lips.
"feel how good you feel. feel how perfectly you fit."
"i can't—" soobin cuts himself off with another whine, his hips starting to thrust up in small, jerky movements that meet your rolls. "it's too much. it feels too good."
"it's not too much," you assure him, your hand coming up to card through his soft hair, pushing it back from his forehead. "you're doing so well. just feel it. feel me."
soobin is fully hard now, thick and heavy inside you, and the transition from soft to hard has left you both breathless and shaking. you've never experienced anything like it — the gradual, inexorable filling, the knowledge that his arousal is a direct response to you, to this moment. it's really intoxicating.
"i wanna move," soobin begs, his voice cracking. "please, baby, please can i move? i need—i need to—"
you simply nod, unable to form words properly. you lift yourself slightly, and soobin thrusts up, a real thrust this time, deep and sure. you both moan, the sound mingling in the small space between you.
"y-yeah," you gasp. "like that. just like that—"
soobin sets a rhythm, slow at first, still overwhelmed by the newness of it all. his thrusts are deep, deliberate, each one punching a soft sound from your lips, and his hands are everywhere — your hips, your back, your face.
he can't stop touching you, can't stop looking at you.
"you're so perfect," soobin babbles, his words tumbling out between kisses and pretty moans. "so perfect for me. i love you so much. i love being inside you. i love—ah!—i love feeling you."
you capture his mouth with yours, swallowing his words, his every sounds. you simply love him like this — open, vulnerable, completely undone by you. the pretty nerd who annotates his textbooks and makes color-coded study guides, reduced to a whining, desperate mess because of how you feel around him.
you start to meet his thrusts, matching his rhythm, making it deeper and harder. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound joining the wet, obscene noises of your bodies coming together.
"i'm close," soobin warns, his voice tight.
he's gripping you so hard you know there will be bruises tomorrow, and you can't bring yourself to care.
"i'm so close, baby, where do you want—"
"inside," you moans. "stay inside—wanna feel you come inside me."
soobin’s eyes roll back slightly at your words, and his thrusts become erratic, losing their rhythm. he's chasing his release, but he's also watching you, making sure you're with him. your boyfriend’s hand snakes down between your bodies, finding your cock, stroking you in time with his thrusts.
it only takes a few more strokes; you come with a broken cry of his name, your body clenching around him, and that's all it takes to push soobin over the edge. he follows with a desperate, high-pitched moan, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you, hot and deep.
for a long moment, neither of you moves.
you're both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, sharing the same humid air. soobin's hands are still on you, but they've gone soft, just resting.
right now, you can feel him softening inside you, the reverse of the sensation from before, and it's just as incredible in its own way.
finally, you shift, wincing slightly at the oversensitivity, and soobin's hands immediately try to hold you still.
"wait," he murmurs. "just... wait a second. i'm not ready to not be inside you yet."
you smile, pressing a kiss to his nose.
"okay."
you simply stay like that for a long time, connected, breathing together. soobin’s thumbs trace absent patterns on your skin, and your fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck.
the room slowly cools around you, but you're both warm, wrapped up in each other.
"that was..." he trails off, searching for the right word.
"incredible?" you offer.
"yeah," soobin laughs softly, a little puff of air against your lips. "incredible. you always have the best ideas."
"i know," you tease, but you're smiling too.
eventually, you have to move.
the practicalities of cleanup, of bodily functions, of reality intruding on the perfect bubble you've created. but even as you disentangle yourselves, even as soobin disappears into his attached bathroom and returns with a warm, damp washcloth to clean you both with gentle, careful hands, the intimacy doesn't break.
when you finally settle back into bed, both of you having pulled on fresh boxers, soobin immediately pulls you against his chest. he's warm and solid, and you can feel his heartbeat, still slightly elevated, against your cheek.
"so," you mumble against his skin. "worth interrupting your study session?"
soobin laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest.
"my biology textbook can wait. this was..." he pauses, and you feel him press a kiss to the top of your head. "this was the best kind of practical application."
you snort, elbowing him gently. "such a nerd."
the room falls into a comfortable silence, the kind that only comes after moments of profound intimacy.
outside, the city continues its endless hum.
inside, in soobin's small, cluttered bedroom, there's just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, sated and sleepy and utterly, completely in love.
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Summary: Your boyfriend — despite being naturally leading, is pretty submissive in bed. It comes as quite a shock when he decides to take control once but who are you to say no?
⤷ smut!!! p in v, softdom!soobin. established relationship. soobin spits in and on you a couple times. lowk size kink. big dick!soobin agenda. few praises thrown in.
a/n: fem!reader (afab so implied), inspired by my dream & requested kinda 🫡 soobin nation rise up. not proof read ><
Being intimate with Soobin has never felt this heavy and hot. His bigger, more intimidating frame easily envelops your body and naturally leads the progress of your connection. You’re not sure when you ended up in his lap, swallowed by his broad stature as you struggle to keep up with the prodding tongue exploring your mouth. Your heart is dizzy with lust-fuelled excitement and your stomach starts to clench and sends sparks of passion towards your lower body. Your hips rock subconsciously against his own as you chase relief for the pressure that’s built up in your sensitive clit from his actions.
You’re practically panting as Soobin continues his ministrations. The usually passive and quite submissive man clings to you needingly, pressing his mouth against yours in a clash of teeth and tongues as if trying to prove a point to someone in his head.
Your hands which dig into the skin as the base of his neck falter and squeeze at the wisps of hair as he pushes you impossibly closer by the small of your back. Your lips disconnect slightly so his hot, heavy tongue can lick a daring stripe from your neck to just above your jaw.
You can’t help but whimper at the feeling. You feel like you’re going insane as Soobin continues to have his way with you. It’s not like Soobin to practically jump on you and have you sit pretty in his lap as he does what he wants to you. Usually, he’s staring at you with eyes blown large with desire as he asks you want you want him to do. What he can do to make you feel so good. Usually the control over someone so much larger than you makes your legs clench but the way Soobin is practically treating you like a doll has you drenched in a way you didn’t think was ever possible.
“Mhmph — Soobin!” You mewl as he presses heavy kisses against your cheek, travelling up your face to press them into your hairline before he lands back at your mouth. He snakes a hand from the small of your back to clench your chin between fingers, pulling his face back so he can stare at you with dark eyes. You swear your eyes almost roll to the back of your head at the sight of his plush, bruised lip. They’re slick with saliva and a small string still connects your lips.
He breathes heavily but the way you’re panting at having your breath stolen from you is undeniably hot to both of you. Your hands slip from his neck to hold his broad shoulders. You must look crazed — hair messy and lips swollen from the nips caused by Soobin.
“What’s gotten into you?” You question under pants, eyes darting around your boyfriend’s face. His hooded eyes drink in the details of your wrecked face. Soft eyes, furrowed brows and parted, kiss bitten red lips that glisten under the dull light in the bedroom like a crude layer of lipgloss. Soobin’s dick twitches at the sight.
“Need you.” Soobin mutters honestly as his hand drops from your chin. You swallow thickly before letting out a small puff in surprise as Soobin swiftly scoots back to lay you flat against the bed. Your stomach flutters as he easily manhandles you in a pliant position he wants to see you in.
“H-Hah..” You exhale shakily as Soobin’s hand runs down your body. His large plans envelope your tits, squeezing and pushing them together under the fabric of your top. He uses his thumbs to rub over the protruding tips, revelling in the way you shiver and bite your lip at the feeling. Your legs greedily rub together, ignoring how your knees knock into his legs and give away what you’re doing.
Wriggling and twisting, you reach after his touch. He curses as his hands trail further down your body until he reaches the hem of your shirt. His head dips as he pushes the material up, lips pressing wet searing kisses to the exposed skin of your torso. When he lifts away to press more, tongue darting to lap at the skin, the cool air causes a nipping sensation that makes your back arch.
Your head falls further back into the pillows as your hands grasp at the sheets. Soobin pushes your shirt up to the point it bunches over the swell of your breasts, pert nipples facing the cool air without much cover. Your legs press together as his head rounds up to the flesh of your tits. His tongue leaves a hot trail of desire, mapping his ministrations as he finally targets your breasts. He swirls the tongue around the perky bud, lips suctioning down as his teeth graze at the sensitive surface. You mewl and yelp as his other hand comes to twist at the neglected nipple.
“A-Ah, Soobin..” You moan wantonly, back arching and twisting. You try to pull away from the pinching of your right nipple but it leads you to push against Soobin’s face causing his teeth to dig into the soft flesh. You hiss and mewl as you feel yourself become more needy at the opposite sensations.
“So needy.” Soobin mumbles around the flesh as he moves to suck the skin just under your areola. You seizes his pinching to lightly roll over the bud with his thumb. You sigh as he separates from your tit with a soft ‘pop!’
The skin presents with a slight red tint. Soobin exhales as he realises the mark will slowly darken over time.
You release your hands from the sheets to weave your fingers into Soobin’s dark strands. He follows your lead until his face connects with your again. Your lips jut into a pout as you motion for him to meet you halfway with another kiss but he stills despite the pull on his hair.
“Jus’ kiss me, already.” You whine, feeling slightly lightheaded by the change in dynamic. Soobin’s lip flips into a smirk at one corner, the expression sends a flutter straight to your cunt. He leans in and presses a soft kiss against your lips.
You relish in the soft kiss. It’s different from what he’s inflicted upon you tonight.
He pulls away softly and his eyes almost seem a little lighter. They’re still clouded with unwavering desire but his expression seems just a fraction smaller.
“..My beautiful baby.” Soobin practically whispers as his eyes take in the features of your face. You turn hot under the appreciation. Soobin presses a soft kiss against your jawline, eyes dazzling with love.
“Soobin..” You whine with embarrassment laced into your words, “Just fuck me already.”
If the room wasn’t hot before it was hot now. As soon as the plea left your mouth Soobin was stripping his shirt and unbuckling his belt. The visual of the taller man sat on his knees above you as his belt clacked and jiggled as he whipped it off and threw the accessory to the side with a metallic thud made your thighs clench. The way his brows furrowed slightly as the belt fumbled a little and the groan of relief once he was able to undo it and throw it to the side made the everyday action just a little hotter.
You shuffle and pull yourself up to fully take off the shirt that was uncomfortably bunched around your chest. Soobin’s eyes shamelessly stare at your tits as they shake a little when you readjust the strands of hair that fell into your face.
“Shit. Baby. Let me eat you out.” Soobin asks as he hurriedly pushes his trousers around his ankles. If you weren’t so turned on you’d probably laugh at how he swears when the material bunches on his thighs and he’s forced to hop off the bed to fully take the denim off. The strain of his cock against the black material of his Calvin Klein’s makes whatever humour die in the back of your head as you zone in on the print.
“Jus’ need you in me.” You reply earnestly. Soobin crawls back on the bed, leaning over you like predator to prey. His eyes meet yours softly, “I’ve been dying to taste you, baby.”
You almost moan at his words. Soobin uses a hand to trace your features with delicate fingers. Your hand raises to softly hold at the hand. Not to stop him but just to simply touch him.
“I just need your cock, ‘Bin.” You say it so easily Soobin feels himself twitch in his underwear. The fingers tracing your lips lead themselves to your lips, slightly pressing down on the pink flesh to open your mouth silently. You let him use you, opening your mouth so he can press down on your tongue.
“Get my fingers wet, my love.” Soobin hums as he zones in on the way your tongue twirls over the long digits. He wills himself to not teasingly press a little deeper. If he was feeling a little meaner maybe he’d see how far he could go before you gag against the prodding digits. He hooks a thumb on your chin so he can rub his pointer and middle fingers against your tongue.
You hum, voice bordering on a whine as your mouth salivates from his actions and face alone. Soobin pulls his fingers away but taps on your lips to tell you to keep your mouth open. You flinch a little when he spits but you can’t help but smile when the droplet of saliva lands on your tongue neatly. He dips his fingers back in to scoop it up and really coat his fingers.
He lets you breathe when he pulls away. You swallow thickly as Soobin shifts his attention to your needy cunt. The cool sensation of his fingers prodding as your hot, gushing pussy is enough to make your eyes roll back. He circles your clit a few times — the way you like — before dipping the tips of his fingers into your needy hole. He glances up to gage your reaction before pushing in his fingers, wiggling a little to ease them in.
“Didn’t even need you to drool all over my fingers.” Soobin laughs a little as your mouth falls open. You let out a breathy exhale as he scissors you open, fingers slowly spreading against your gummy walls to get you used to the feeling.
“Ha-ah, told you I need you.” You retort as your fingers curl against the sheets. Soobin hums and bends his head so he can leave a small kiss at the top of your thigh. The muscle twitches at the sensation but the loving action next to the pumping of his fingers makes your stomach feel warm and fuzzy.
It’s not long before the usual dirty sound of squelching fills the air. Soobin manages to wiggle in a third finger despite your little huffs when it stings as he introduces the third. He hums as he shifts back on his knees so he can use his other hand to circle at your clit.
Your thighs begin to shake a little. Your head lolls back as you whimper. Soobin’s long fingers and strikingly ability to find the spot that makes you see stars is a lethal combo, but one that makes you moan like a bitch in heat.
“Soob, ‘m gonna cum.” You warn. Soobin continues, twisting his fingers just slightly as he rubs a little faster on your clit. You should be embarrassed at the wet sloshing sound that fills the room but you can’t focus on it when the familiar warm tugging sensation starts to pull in your lower stomach.
“Gonna cum for me?” Soobin asks as he looks at your face. Your hair is disheveled from throwing your head back but it falls around your head like a halo. He presses a fingers a little harder against the spongy spot inside your cunt as he continues to coo little praises that makes your walls clench against the fingers.
“Pretty baby.” Soobin cooes as you cum. Your back arches with your pretty tits pointing perkily to the air. Soobin wills himself to not grab at the flesh as he continues to slowly pump his fingers in your squishy walls to help you ride out the orgasm. Your hips chase after the fading sensation before eventually stopping.
Soobin takes the signal to slowly detach his fingers from your cunt. Your pussy clenches as he pulls out.
Your head feels dizzy as you turn your head to look at your boyfriend. He’s slowly peeling the elastic band of his boxers away from his hips. You’d offer to help if you weren’t still a little breathless from whining for Soobin to keep going.
He rolls the material down his thighs. His quads tighten as his hand wraps around the base of his cock. He uses the juices from the hand he used to finger you to spread it across the sensitive skin.
He hisses at the contact. Despite being sexually active Soobin still swears he feels like he could cum from one touch alone as he looks at your body. He feels like a dam teenager who just got their hands on their first porn mag as he drinks in your vulgar position.
“Roll over for me, baby.” Soobin commands. You nod, slowly rolling yourself over so you can plant yourself on your hands and knees. It used to feel embarrassing to present yourself so freely to Soobin but you’ve gotten used to this man and his libido to realise he’s way to horny to care for slight imperfections you’ve decided you’ve got in your head.
Your back arches as Soobin places a palm on the skin of your ass. You feel the bed dip as he shuffles forward, stomach clenching when the head of his cock taps against your weeping hole.
You hear Soobin inhale before pausing. He shifts backwards before a hot, wet trail of liquid meet your puffy lips. The needy moan that erupts from your mouth when you realise Soobin’s spat on you again — specifically your pussy, turns you on immensely.
“Tell me if it hurts.” Soobin comments as he guides his cock with his hand. He use the fleshy tip to spread the wetness over your folds, gathering them on the bulbous tip so it makes it easier for him to press into your fluttering hole.
The hand on the palm of your ass smooths to your lower back. You instinctively arch further into the mattress, proving him a better view of your messy pussy. He groans as he presses in, relishing in the way your wet cunt immediately sucks him in.
The stinging is delicious. The way the tears poke at your eyes as you clench them shut would make Soobin cum on the spot if he could see your face. You press your face into the pillows, gasping as he inches in slowly.
“Doing okay, love?” Soobin asks as he stops halfway. You nod against the pillow, biting your lip to swallow any hisses. The stretch does burn but the reward after is too enticing to stop him. Soobin leans forward a bit, accidentally pushing in more as he tries to catch a glance of your face, “Words, baby.”
“G-Good! Keep going, Soob. Need it bad!” You squeal as he inches in more. Your legs want to flail but you ground yourself by biting at the pillow you’ve forced your head into.
Soobin bottoms out swiftly. The base of his hips sit snug against your ass as he allows you a moment to breathe. The way your walls clench rapidly around his cock makes the hand on your back slip to grab at your waist. He holds the flesh firmly between his fingers.
“‘M gonna cum if you keep doing that.” He confesses breathlessly. You whimper out an apology as you try to calm your racing heart.
“Move. It’s okay.” You give Soobin the green light to move.
He rocks his hips slowly. Your eyes almost roll back at how big he is. Soobin doesn’t seem to understand that he is bigger than average because the amount of times you have to tell him he can’t just jackhammer into you from start to finish is astonishing. He doesn’t seem to understand that you barely squeeze him into your cunt before he’s almost breaking into your cervix. Poor guy just wants to make you feel good.
He sighs, both hands finding home on your hips as he finds his rhythm. His thighs slap against the back of your legs, filling the void silence in the room as he slowly speeds up.
Your legs shake. His stupidly big cock practically abuses your gspot, punching and drilling it stupid. Even at the slower pace the mushroom tip makes your toes curl like you’re about to cum on the spot.
“Faster!” You command greedily as you press your hips against Soobin’s. Soobin takes your word for it as he begins to press harder, transferring his weight to the grip on your hips so he can thrust harder.
The bruising placement of his hands makes your mouth water. The thought of him leaving imprints of his hands on the soft flesh like a silent marking of ‘Soobin was here.’ is dirtily tantalising.
“Always so tight. You sure you can take me?” Soobin muses as he thrusts harder. The sounds filling the room are a perverts fantasy. Between the sound of slick skin slapping, obscene squelching and pornographic moans alongside the softest dirty talk would have any person sweating.
You pant and wriggle, hips pushing back to meet Soobin. The plush of your ass slaps against the skin of Soobin’s hips leaving soft little stings in its wake. He slides a hand from your hip to messily play with your clit. You cry as he punches hastily, the force of his thrusts making his hand slip and pull at the sensitive skin.
“‘M gonna cum!” You warn as Soobin continues to draw messy figure 8’s on your clit. He pants as he chases the orgasm, legs and arms burning as he wills himself to keep going.
The sweat that was building on his hairline falls down his face in small streaks and he groans as he flicks his head back. The strands of his hair stick to the sweaty skin, casting a shadow across his face.
“Go ahead, love. Come.” Soobin keens when you clamp down a little firmer than usual. The spasms of your sensitive walls leads him to a quicker release but he refuses to come before you do.
You yelp as a specifically hard thrust makes your vision dot “Fuck! Mhmph!! Soobin — Ha-ah, shit!”
“You sound like a pornstar.” Soobin manages to speak past the whiny whimper that escaped him when the first spirt of his cum shoots into your walls. He spews apologies when he can’t hold it back, fucking you like a pocket pussy as he chases his relief.
You’re practically melted onto the sheets when you come. Whether it’s from Soobin’s off handed comment or the searing hot feeling of his cum costing your walls, one last clench around his bulbous cock and you’re cumming like a whiny bitch.
Soobin lets you ride it out despite his sensitive nature. The sounds that escape him are more adjacent to his usual tone during sex, soft and needy. The slamming of his hips has slowed to a rocking pace. You both hiss as his sensitive heads prods at your spongy spot.
“You did.. so good for me.” Soobin exhales faintly. He slowly pulls out and your walls clench uncomfortably at the feeling. His hands detach themselves from your body as you fully embrace the soft bedding below you. Getting caught up in the heat of the moment made you forget about how hot you are. The warm flush radiates form your body as you both separate for cool air.
You shift, turning so you can face Soobin. He settles against the pillow next to you, facing the ceiling as he catches his breath.
“What got into you?” You ask with a trace of a laugh. Soobin snickers as he rolls his neck softly. He just shrugs.
#SYNOPSIS » you are mostly into girls. everyone knows that. soobin knows that. but that never stopped him from watching you like he knew something you didn’t. he’s your favorite boy, your quietest tension, you flirt with him because you think it’s fun. until one night, a horror movie, and a question you weren’t ready for — are you really not into guys? and maybe it was never about boys. maybe it was just about him.
✰ pairing: soobin x bi!fem!reader … ﹒smut, slowburn, friends to something, power play, pwp ✰ w/c: 15k #nowplaying 1980s horror film - wallows
✰ warnings: explicit sexual content (mdni!!), power dynamics, dom! soobin, oral (m receiving), praise + degradation kink, cum eating, consent is clear but push-pull tension, light pain, confusion around sexuality, reader is bi but leans heavily towards girls
you never really liked boys anyway. except for choi soobin, of course.
which was annoying. infuriating, really. because he was the one boy you let yourself like, just a little, back when college was still new and everything felt like it could be a movie. he was cute in a lazy, floppy-haired way. laughed too loud. had that smug look on his face like he knew girls liked him, and you hated boys like that.
but you liked him, just a little. you liked the way he always saved you a seat. liked the way he looked at you when you talked, like you were saying something important, even when you weren’t. and maybe, once or twice, you thought about kissing him. maybe, if he kissed you first, you wouldn’t have stopped him. and soobin, well, he’s just your friend. even if you’re always in his lap. even if you always call him baby when you’re drunk. even if sometimes he looks at you like he wants to ruin you.
but then you hooked up with that girl from your lit class and remembered: oh. right. you like girls. you’ve always known you were mostly into girls. since before you even had a word for it. barbie made out with other barbie. you had crushes on your best friends. and when you finally kissed a girl for the first time, it felt like everything made sense. you’re bi, technically. but girls were always easier for you. guys were… well, guys. loud, messy, handsy. they talked over you. and every time you tried to “give it a shot” with one, it ended in disappointment. sometimes disgust. you got tired of being disappointed, so you stopped trying.
but then there was soobin.
your friendship with him is… complicated. you watch movies together all the time. mostly 1980's horror films. bad ones, always. you eat from the same bowl of popcorn and scream at the same jump scares. he lets you paint his nails while you ramble about some bullshit while you’re high, and he acts like it doesn’t hurt when you say things like i think i’m into her.
but also, you caught him staring once. not in a gross way. more like… sad? like he wanted to ask something, but didn’t know if he should. well, you didn’t ask either. you just laid your head on his shoulder and said, “you’re my favorite boy, you know that?” and he said, “i better be."
you’ve seen him shirtless more times than you can count. not on purpose, just sleepovers, gym selfies, pool days. but still, his stupid abs live rent-free in your head. and maybe you’ve thought about kissing him. maybe you wonder what it’d feel like to let him touch you, like, really touch you. maybe your brain goes quiet when he calls you pretty. maybe you’re scared of what that means.
maybe you don’t know if you’re confused about him, or just confused about yourself.
and soobin? oh, soobin wants you in ways he can’t say out loud.
it is not sweet, nor soft. no, he wants you in the most carnal way a person can want someone. wants your thighs around his face. wants to hear you whimper. wants to fuck the brat right out of you. and it’s hell, you know, being your friend.
because you’re always touching him. always looking at him like he’s just soobin, your favorite pillow, your emotional support boy. you straddle his lap like it means nothing. call him baby when you’re tipsy. you whisper in his ear at parties like you’re telling him secrets, when really it’s just to feel your lips on his neck. he knows what you’re doing. or maybe you don’t. maybe you’re just like this. maybe you really don’t know what you do to him.
but he does, because he thinks about it way too often. you on your knees. you moaning his name. your lipgloss smeared across his skin. and he hates himself for it, for the way his cock aches just from being around you. for the way he jerks off after you leave his apartment, like some sad, pathetic, friendzoned loser. he wants to blame you, but he can’t. it’s not your fault you’re like this.
and tonight’s the worst. today is taehyun’s birthday party. everyone’s sweating through their clothes and the floor’s sticky and someone’s already puked in the sink. but you look unreal, you always do. little black skirt, bare thighs, something sparkly on your chest. and of course soobin wants to bite you.
you’re drunk, but not too drunk. just buzzed enough to be mean about it. to smile at him with that lipglossed mouth and say shit like: “you know you’re stupid hot, right?”
he freezes. “what?”
you grin. lean in, real close. “you heard me.”
he tries not to react. tries to keep his eyes on your face and not the way your fingers trail down his arm. but his skin’s buzzing, and you’re everywhere. your perfume, your voice, your thighs on his. you’re pressing into him like you want him to do something. and fuck, he almost does. but you’re gone again, like you always are. off to refill your drink, or to dance, or to do whatever the fuck you do when you’re tipsy and glowing and unstoppable.
he finds you later in the kitchen. kissing some girl against the counter, all teeth and tongue and fingers knotted in hair. and he shouldn’t be surprised. he’s not surprised. he’s just, well. soobin is hard.
and ashamed. and dizzy with it. so he turns away. drinks whatever’s in his cup. vodka? piss? who cares.
an hour later, you sit on his lap like nothing happened. like you didn’t just let some other girl bite your neck while he watched. like he isn’t the one unraveling.
“hey,” you whisper. one arm around his shoulders, nails grazing the back of his neck. “you okay?” he doesn’t answer. you tilt your head. “what’re you thinking about?”
he says it before he can stop himself. “don’t know what to say to you,” he breathes. “i feel… you’re always on my mind.”
you freeze for a second. then your face softens. not in the way he wants. “soobin…” you laugh, too gentle. “i’m really not that into guys.”
the words hit like a blade to the gut. or maybe like a jump scare in one of those shitty 1980s horror films you always make him watch. the kind where someone’s about to get gutted, but the music’s still cheerful. like the world doesn’t know something awful is happening.
and he’s sitting there, hard as a rock, hands on your waist, and he can’t even move. just smiles, swallows it down. lets the blood drain from his chest to somewhere lower. because fuck it, right? because he wants you so bad he’ll take anything. even this.
but after that night, things started to change inside you.
you didn’t want to admit it, not even to yourself. you played it off, laughed it off, because that’s what you always do when things get a little too real. but something shifted, something you didn’t know how to name. but you weren’t stupid. you knew what you were doing that night. you were drunk, yes. but not that drunk. just loose enough to let your hands wander. just tipsy enough to call soobin pretty and pretend it didn’t mean anything. just bold enough to climb into his lap and act like you belonged there.
and god, the way he looked at you. he always looked at you soft. like you were something delicate, something sacred. but that night? something in his eyes was darker. heavier. something that made your stomach flip and your thighs press together just a little.
you liked it, you fucking liked it. and then you said it — i’m really not that into guys — and watched it hit him like a punch to the face. you weren’t lying. well, not entirely. you are bi. you always have been. but it’s been a long time since a man made you feel anything. it’s been years since one touched you and your body responded like this. and it’s not like you didn’t try, you did. dates, hookups, situationships. they all fizzled out into nothing. no spark. no heat. just another guy thinking he deserved something just for showing up.
but soobin isn’t like them. soobin is sweet. soobin holds your hand when you’re hungover and makes playlists for your moods and never pushes, never assumes, never demands. he’s soft-spoken, polite, too damn good for his own sanity. and maybe that’s why you liked teasing him so much. maybe that’s why you started testing your limits.
you knew he liked you. he never said it, but it clung to everything he did. the way he lingered when you touched him. the way he looked away when you changed clothes in front of him, but not too fast. the way he let you flirt and flirt and flirt, and never told you to stop.
and well, you’re a little fucked up, you know that. you like playing with fire just to see how long it takes to burn. and with soobin? soobin had this face, all soft lashes and pink lips and that stupid shy smile, and yet you knew he wasn’t innocent, no, not really. you’d catch him looking sometimes, like really looking. not just at your face, but at your thighs. your chest. your mouth. the hunger was there, hiding behind the sweet boy act.
and it did something to you, something ugly. something hot.
so you started to lean in closer when you talked to him. started calling him baby more often, just to see how his ears turned red. you wore shorts that barely covered anything when he came over. you let your fingers linger a little too long on his hand when you passed him things. and when you caught him staring, you smiled.
but you told yourself it was just fun. you told yourself you were figuring things out, seeing if your body could still want a guy. if your brain could still go there. and if it was anyone else, you probably would’ve pulled away already. but it’s soobin, and you trust him. and that’s what makes it worse. because now every time you’re alone together, you can feel it crackling between you. every laugh, every brush of skin, every too-long stare— it all builds and builds until you feel like your bones might snap from the pressure of not doing anything.
you wake up thinking about his mouth. you fall asleep wondering how he tastes. you touch yourself and pretend it’s still just curiosity. you don’t know what this makes you. don’t know if you’re into him, or just into how he makes you feel. don’t know if you want him because it’s him… or because your body is begging for something and he’s the first person to really look at you like he’s starving.
and maybe that’s the scariest part. not wanting him, but not knowing why you want him.
so you text him two nights later.
[you]: hey, movie night?
[you]: u owe me horror and gore
he answers in under five minutes.
[soobin]: omw
you stare at the message longer than necessary, because you don’t know what you’re doing. but also— you know exactly what you’re doing.
you pick the movie carefully, not something classy. the slumber party massacre. a cult slasher soaked in tits and blood and bad acting. the kind of movie that makes you feel sticky just watching it. the kind of movie you’d make fun of together. the kind of movie where sexual tension is part of the plot, of course
you throw on a hoodie and tiny shorts. not for him, not really. you just want to be comfortable. or you just want to see what happens.
and when soobin shows up, he looks like he always does. hoodie, sweats, his hair slightly messed up from the wind. but his eyes flick to your legs when you open the door. just for a second. and that’s all it takes. that second burns straight through you.
“hey,” he says, voice a little too low.
“you brought snacks?” you ask, already turning your back to him, pretending your skin isn’t hot.
“yeah,” he says, and when you glance back, he’s still standing there, holding the chips awkwardly, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
“you ever seen the slumber party massacre?” you ask, flopping onto your bed.
soobin blinks. “uh, yeah. tits and blood, right?”
you grin. “exactly.”
you settle on your bed with the laptop open, lights off except for the screen’s dim glow. he kicks off his shoes and joins you, back against the pillows, a little too far from you. he swears his heart skips. or maybe it’s his dick. hard to tell.
you don’t say anything, you just press play. and the movie starts. basically: girls scream, clothes come off, fake blood splashes across the screen. it’s stupid. you’ve seen it before. but you don’t care. because all you can feel is the space between your bodies.
you stretch your legs out and let one brush against his thigh. you pretend it’s accidental. it’s not. he stiffens a little, but doesn’t pull away. fifteen minutes in, you shift closer. your bare thigh fully pressed to his now. he still doesn’t move, but his breathing changes, though. a little shallower. you don’t look at him, not yet. you lean your head back, neck exposed, hoodie slipping off one shoulder.
you’re not watching the movie anymore. you’re watching him watch the movie. he’s tense and quiet, too quiet. and then one of the girls on screen moans — loud and ridiculous and obviously fake — and you can practically feel soobin’s whole body flinch beside you.
you turn to him, finally, and your voice comes out low. teasing. “you okay?”
he nods, too quickly. “mhm.”
you smile and lean in a little closer. “you’re so jumpy. it’s just a dumb movie.”
he swallows hard. “yeah, i know.”
and then silence again. well, except it’s not silence. it’s the sound of his breath catching every time you shift. the rustle of sheets when your leg slides higher against his. the creak of the bed when you lean into his side and pretend not to notice how he holds himself like he’s about to explode. you rest your chin on his shoulder. your lips brush his neck. again— just pretend.
your eyes are half-lidded as you stare at the screen, though you’ve long since stopped registering anything happening in the movie. he’s so still beside you it’s almost funny, like he thinks if he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe too loudly, the tension will somehow break on its own. but you feel him. the way his thigh tenses beneath yours. the way his hands are clenched, fingers digging into his own leg. the way he keeps his eyes on the screen like he’s being tested. like this is some exam he has to pass.
“you still think this movie’s just tits and blood?” you ask voice low, teasing. your lips graze the curve of his neck just slightly as you speak, enough to make him flinch.
he lets out a sound, half a laugh, half a breath he’d been holding. “that’s literally all it is,” he says, but his voice is tight, a little hoarse, like it’s caught on something he’s not saying. “plot? never heard of her.”
you grin, slow and lazy. “right. because you only watch movies for the plot.”
“i do, actually.” he turns his head a little, just enough to glance at you, and you catch the flicker of something in his eyes, maybe amusement, restraint, a quiet kind of want that makes your stomach flip. “that’s why i’m here. for the deep narrative of slumber party massacre.”
you laugh, you can’t help it. “mm, yeah. so insightful.”
“exactly,” he murmurs, his gaze dropping (not very subtly) to your mouth. “truly… cinematic.”
there’s a beat of silence where neither of you speaks, where the only sound is the girl on screen screaming as a power drill tears through a door. you shift closer again, just barely, and his breath catches. you can feel the way the air between you is thick. the push and pull of something neither of you wants to name.
you smile, almost wicked, and lean into him fully now, your weight settling half across his chest, your hand resting on his stomach, too casual to be casual at all. you can feel the tension in him, the way his body is coiled tight, like he’s holding himself back from something. “hey..” you whisper, voice syrupy and low. “you uncomfortable?”
he swallows hard. “no,” he says, way too fast. “why would i be?”
you let your fingers drag slowly, lazily over the hem of his hoodie. “dunno. you just seem kinda… stiff.”
you know you’re being cruel. you know exactly what you’re doing, and part of you hates yourself for it. and the other part (the louder one) is trying to make sense of the chaos inside you, the confusion, the heat, the sudden ache that’s been gnawing at you ever since that night at the party. you tell yourself this is about clarity, you just want to know.
he exhales sharply, like he’s trying to keep himself from combusting. “you’re really playing with fire right now,” he mutters, half under his breath.
you tilt your head again, wide-eyed and fake-innocent. “me? i would never.”
he turns to you then and suddenly he’s close, so close that his nose almost brushes yours, and all the tension from before condenses into a single, dangerous moment. “are you really not that into guys?” he asks, low and careful, like he’s trying to sound casual but can’t quite pull it off. “or are you just… not into me?”
the words hit harder than you expect. you blink, thrown for a second. you were playing a game, but suddenly you’re not sure what the rules are anymore. and he doesn’t move, doesn’t look away. he’s not teasing now, he’s just waiting. you open your mouth, then close it again. because what the hell are you supposed to say? you could lie. you could laugh it off. you could flirt your way out of it like you always do. but you don’t. because suddenly you feel a little sick, like something’s lodged in your chest.
“i…” you start, but your voice cracks, and you have to look away. you pull back just slightly, your hand slipping off his stomach, and the loss of contact makes you feel cold. “i don’t know.”
and that’s the truth, and it’s the worst answer you could give. but soobin doesn’t respond right away. he just watches you for a moment, eyes sharp, mouth tight. “you know,” he says finally, voice low and calm in that dangerous way, “i can’t keep pretending this is nothing. that you don’t know what you’re doing.”
your breath hitches. “i didn’t mean to—”
“yes, you did,” he cuts in, not harsh, but not gentle either. “you did mean to. you do it all the time.”
you want to argue, but you can’t. because he’s right. “i don’t know what i want,” you admit, your voice small now. “it’s not about you. it’s not— it’s not because i don’t think about you. i do. i think about you more than i should.”
he exhales slowly. “then stop acting like it’s a joke.”
you look up at him, and suddenly he’s too close again, and the space between your bodies feels like it might collapse. “i’m just... scared,” you whisper, and it’s the first honest thing you’ve said all night.
his expression softens, not completely, not enough to erase the frustration and the want, but enough to remind you who he is. that it’s soobin. that he’s not going to take advantage. that he just wants you to be sure. “then say that,” he says gently. “don’t play with me.”
you don’t say anything at first. you just sit there with your hands in your lap like some kind of penitent virgin, like you weren’t half on top of him five seconds ago whispering in his ear like a tease. it’s funny, in a pathetic kind of way. you don’t even realize how obvious it is, how you’re still pressed up against him, still breathing like you ran a mile, still watching his mouth like it might do something terrible. and soobin? soobin’s done pretending he doesn’t notice.
“you know what your problem is?” he says, voice calm in a way that’s somehow more dangerous than yelling.
you blink. “um—”
he leans in just slightly, not enough to touch, but close enough to make you feel it. “you think you can keep playing these games with me and i’m just gonna sit here and take it.”
your stomach flips. “i wasn’t—”
“you weren’t?” he cuts in, tone sharp now. “what was that then? just casual flirting with your friend since you are 'not that into guys’? calling me baby and crawling into my lap and rubbing up against me during a fucking slasher movie? just normal behavior?”
you open your mouth. close it again. because yeah. yeah, okay. you have no argument. he laughs, humorless. “you want to know what i think?”
you don’t, you really don’t, but you nod anyway. he shifts his body, finally, his legs opening just slightly, taking up more space, spine straighter now, eyes locked on you like he’s finally tired of pretending he’s not starving. he doesn’t touch you, not yet, but every inch of his posture says he could. would, if you let him.
“i think you like pretending you’re in control,” he says. “i think you like pushing me just far enough to feel powerful. but you never let it go further, because then it’s real. and if it’s real, you can’t hide behind your sexuality crisis or your drunk-girl flirty bullshit.”
you suck in a sharp breath. “wow.”
“yeah,” he says. “wow.”
there’s a long pause. you don’t move, but your skin’s buzzing, your thighs pressed together like that’ll help. it won’t. your whole body’s betraying you. and the worst part is that he knows. because he continues: “but here’s the thing,” he continues, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “you’re not in control. not anymore.”
“oh?” you shoot back, voice a little thinner than you want. “and you are?”
he tilts his head, eyes dark now, smile lazy. “wanna find out?”
you hate him. you hate that your legs feel weak and your face is hot and your stomach is doing flips like you’re seventeen and he’s the first boy who ever looked at you like he meant it. you swallow hard. “you think i’m scared of you?”
“i know you’re scared of how bad you want me,” he says, and it’s not cocky. it’s not a guess. it’s a goddamn fact.
and you hate that he’s right. so you laugh, mostly to cover the way your heart is slamming in your chest. “you’re full of yourself.”
“maybe,” he shrugs. “but you’re still sitting in my lap like, so.”
you blink. your brain short-circuits a little. “jesus christ.”
“say the word,” he says, voice dropping just enough to make your spine tingle. “say it and i’ll stop. we can finish the movie, you can pretend you’re totally unbothered, and i’ll go home like nothing happened.”
you look at him, and he’s still soobin. your sweet, smart, quietly hot friend who lets you paint his nails and listens to your drunk girl rants and always brings the right snacks. except now his eyes are blown wide, his lips are parted, and he’s looking at you like he wants to eat you alive. you’re not used to this version of him, but god, it’s doing something to you.
“i’m not saying stop,” you whisper, and it sounds like a confession.
he grins, slow and dangerous. “didn’t think so.”
you don’t have time to think before he moves. he’s grabbing your waist and pulling you into his lap like you weigh nothing. just grabs you, shifts you over until you’re straddling him, knees on either side of his thighs, face inches from his. like it’s easy, like he’s done it before.
your breath catches in your throat. your hands find his shoulders out of instinct, grounding yourself, but your head is spinning, because he’s so close. his hoodie smells like laundry detergent and something distinctly him, and you’re hyper-aware of how warm his hands feel on your hips, how his thumbs drag slowly against the waistband of your shorts like he’s barely restraining himself.
“you okay?” he asks, but there’s no softness in his voice this time. just control. “still playing?”
you blink at him, wide-eyed. “i’m not—”
“don’t lie,” he cuts in, eyes dark and steady on yours. “not now.”
your lips part, but no sound comes out. you can feel the tension in your own body of the pull, the ache, the raw want that’s been building for weeks, maybe months, maybe longer than you care to admit. and now it’s all boiling under your skin. he leans back slightly against the pillows, relaxed now, one hand still heavy on your hip. his other arm stretches behind his head, the picture of composure, like he’s not losing his mind with you sitting like this on top of him.
“so,” he says, almost lazily, like this is just another dumb conversation between friends. “what do you like?”
you blink. “what?”
“sexually,” he clarifies, casual as anything, like he’s asking what your favorite color is. “what do you like? do you even know?” you swallow hard and he tilts his head, watching you. “you’ve been playing this game for weeks. teasing me, acting like you don’t notice when i’m hard because you’re grinding on me. so i wanna know. is it just for fun? or do you actually get off on this?”
your cheeks burn. you should get up, you should say something. instead, you shift slightly in his lap, barely, and his hands tighten on your waist in warning. “don’t do that unless you’re ready to take responsibility,” he says, voice lower now, dangerous. “you wanted to know how i feel? this is it.”
you bite your lip, heart pounding. you feel too exposed, even fully dressed. like he’s peeled something open inside you and now there’s nowhere to hide. “you’re being mean,” you whisper.
he grins, sharp and slow. “good. someone’s gotta stop letting you play dumb.” you stare at him, chest tight, skin buzzing. “so,” he says again, voice softer now but no less intense. “what do you like?”
you hesitate. not because you don’t know, but because saying it out loud would make it real. and he watches your face, expression unreadable. and then he leans in again, voice low in your ear. “tell me what you want,” he murmurs. “or nothing happens. i’m not gonna touch you unless you ask for it.”
you don’t mean to move, not really, but your hips shift slightly, like your body’s trying to answer for you. your lips part, and for a second, you just breathe. you’re not sure where your voice went. everything’s tight in your throat, but soobin doesn’t rush you. he just waits, watching you from below with a look that’s way too composed for someone whose thighs you’re currently sitting on.
“i…” you start, barely above a whisper. “i like…”
he arches an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smirk pulling at his mouth. “yeah?”
you glare at him, cheeks burning. “don’t be smug.”
“i’m literally just sitting here,” he says, all innocent, like his fingers aren’t gripping your hips like a fucking anchor. “you’re the one grinding on me.”
you huff, exasperated, but your body betrays you again— your thighs tighten, your nails dig lightly into his shoulders. you lean in closer so you don’t have to look at him full in the eyes when you say it. “i like…” you pause, then exhale hard. “i like being in control. usually.”
he hums. “yeah?”
“with girls,” you clarify, quieter now. “it’s just always been easier. they… let me lead.”
soobin’s eyes flicker darker, but he keeps the same calm expression on his face, his voice steady. “so you’re a top,” he says, teasing, like he’s just making an observation about the weather.
you roll your eyes. “not like that.”
“no?” he tilts his head. “how then?”
you bite your lip, struggling for the words. “i mean— i like the dynamic. i like girls with that…” your voice drops. “with that… innocent face. it’s hot.”
you feel soobin’s breath hitch under you, just barely. it makes your heart spike in your chest. he laughs softly, but there’s something sharp underneath it. “so is that how you see me?”
you finally meet his eyes. they’re unreadable now, but locked onto yours with a focus that makes your stomach twist. “no,” you say, and your voice is firmer this time. “you’re not like that.”
he hums again, this time low and slow. “so what am i like, then?”
you swallow, your hands sliding slightly down his arms. “you’re… harder to read. you play along, but i know you’re not passive. you pretend you don’t care, but i can feel it when you touch me.”
“yeah?” he says, fingers tightening just slightly at your waist. “and what does that make you?”
this time you don’t look away. “i don’t know,” you admit. “i like… control. but sometimes—” you pause, frustrated at how hard it is to say. “sometimes i like giving it up.”
“why?” he asks, and his voice is quieter now. not mean, just curious. like he genuinely wants to know what makes you tick.
you think about it. “it depends,” you say slowly, choosing your words with care. “on how the person treats me. if they make me feel safe or wanted. if they deserve it.”
his gaze doesn’t waver. “and am i treating you like that right now?”
that question hits somewhere deep, somewhere between your lungs and your core, and you can’t tell if it makes you want to run or stay forever, so you nod. and he smirks, not cruel, not cocky. just knowing. “good,” he says, voice low. “because i’m not trying to play pretend with you anymore.”
you nod again, smaller this time, your breath shaky. “i don’t want to play either.”
his thumb strokes gently along your side, slow and steady, grounding you. his other hand moves up to rest lightly against the back of your neck, just holding you there, close enough to feel his breath against your lips. “you like being in control,” he says, like he’s repeating it back just to make sure you know he heard you. “but you don’t need to be.”
you don’t answer out loud. your body answers for you, because your hips are rolling forward slightly without permission, the friction making you gasp. his grip tightens instantly, holding you in place. “ah ah,” he tuts, voice like velvet. “you still haven’t told me what you want.”
your head drops forward, forehead resting against his. “you’re so fucking annoying.”
he grins. “am i?”
you’re burning. your whole body is vibrating with need and frustration and anticipation. you feel like you’re going to scream if he doesn’t do something, or let you do something. “i want you to touch me,” you whisper, barely audible.
he leans in just a bit more. “gonna have to say that louder, baby.”
you grit your teeth. “fuck you.”
he smiles sweetly. “you wish.”
your fingers tighten in the fabric of his hoodie. your thighs are trembling now, and you’re so wound up you feel like your skin might split open. you inhale shakily, close your eyes, and say it again. louder this time. clearer. “i want you to touch me.”
you feel the way his breath catches, like even he wasn’t prepared to hear you say it like that. and then his voice drops, low and hot in your ear.
“good girl.”
you almost moan at his words, but you bite your lips and hold yourself back. his hands rest on your thighs like they live there. his thumb draws slow, absent circles against your skin, barely noticeable if your entire nervous system wasn’t screaming at you. his eyes are on you like he’s watching a storm roll in. and you’re trying not to come apart over a fucking stare. you shift a little, chasing friction, and he smirks immediately.
“comfortable?” he asks, voice too soft to be innocent.
you glare. “you’re enjoying this.”
“obviously,” he says. “you’re so easy to read it’s kind of adorable.”
you roll your eyes, annoyed and flustered, which only seems to please him more. his thumb trails higher, a little closer to the hem of your shorts, but doesn’t go any further. he’s doing this on purpose. you know he is.
“you’re not gonna kiss me?” you ask before you can stop yourself.
he raises an eyebrow, gaze flicking from your mouth to your eyes. “is that what you want?” your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. he smiles, slow and cruel and so fucking pretty. “then kiss me.” you freeze. his voice drops, lower now. “what? don’t get shy now.”
you want to hit him. you want to kiss him. you want to melt into him. mostly, you want him to stop talking. but you don’t move. so soobin leans in and exhales. “or do you just want me to do everything for you?”
you swallow hard. “you’re insufferable.”
he hums, grinning. his hand moves again, dragging up the back of your thigh, slow and deliberate, until he’s cupping the underside of it, holding you just a little tighter. “you gonna kiss me or what?” he asks again, voice practically a purr. “or are you scared of that too?”
“i’m not scared.”
“then what’s stopping you?”
you stare at him. you can feel your pulse everywhere — in your neck, your wrists, between your legs. he’s right there. he’s asking for it. and still, you hesitate. so he keeps going. “you want it to be me?” he asks, fingers now pressing into your thigh a little rougher. “you want me to make the first move? pin you down? take it from you?” you shiver. “i could,” he adds. “but i won’t. not until you ask for it.”
his words hit low and deep, and you can’t tell if your thighs are shaking from nerves or want. maybe both. so you reach up, slow and hesitant, and brush your fingers along his jaw. he doesn’t move, he just waits. and when you finally lean in and kiss him, it’s like biting into lightning.
he doesn’t move at first. lets you kiss him, tentative, searching, like he wants to see how far you’ll go on your own. but when your fingers curl into the collar of his hoodie and your hips shift forward instinctively, he groans low in his throat and grabs your waist tight. his mouth moves against yours like he’s been waiting. like he’s been holding back for weeks and now he’s finally letting himself want. well, because he is. so he kisses rougher, deeper, his tongue slipping into your mouth like it belongs there. and when you whimper, he pulls back just barely, breathing hard.
“that what you wanted?” he asks, voice ragged now. you nod, dazed. he kisses the corner of your mouth. your jaw. down your neck. everywhere but where you’re begging for it. “you’re gonna have to be more specific,” he murmurs against your skin. “i wanna hear exactly what you like.”
your hips grind down again. he grips your thighs harder, holds you in place. “you like being on top?” he asks, almost amused.
you nod, biting your lip. “sometimes.”
“but not tonight?” he asks, tilting his head. “you want me to take over, baby?” you can’t speak. you just breathe and nod. he grins. “you know what to do then.”
you press your forehead to his, shaky and desperate and so ready to say it. “please,” you whisper. “i want you.”
“how bad?” he asks.
“i can’t think,” you breathe. “i need you to do something.”
he chuckles — low, smug, wrecked. “good. now we’re getting somewhere.”
his hand is on your throat before you even process it. not squeezing, just resting there, firm enough to feel the beat of your pulse against his palm. he holds your gaze steady with his, like he’s daring you to pull away. you don’t. your breath comes out shaky and uneven, and his thumb strokes just once along the column of your neck. “say it again,” he murmurs, voice low and unforgiving.
you swallow hard. “need you to do something. please.”
he nods once, like that’s all he needed. his other hand slides up under your hoodie, knuckles brushing the bare skin of your waist. his fingers are cold at first, but the way they move is purposeful, not searching, not unsure. he knows what he’s doing. he drags his hand up slowly, deliberately, until his palm rests just under your bra.
“like this?” he asks, thumb teasing the edge of the fabric. “or do you want more?”
you gasp, breath catching. “more.”
he grins, lazy and infuriating. “thought so.”
he slides your hoodie up, not bothering to take it off, just pushing it out of the way enough to get what he wants. his hands move with a kind of patience that makes you ache, like he’s got all the time in the world to make you lose your mind. he cups your breasts through the thin fabric, thumbing over your nipple until it hardens beneath his touch. you arch into it without thinking. “you like that?” he asks, voice close to your ear.
“yes.”
“say it.”
“i like it.”
his hand dips lower, sliding down your stomach, teasing the waistband of your shorts. his fingers toy with the edge like he’s still deciding if he’s going to keep going. “you want me to take these off too?”you nod, dizzy. he clicks his tongue. “use your words.”
“yes. take them off.”
he drags them down slowly, watching your face the whole time. he wants to see everything— the way your lips part, the way your body tenses when he touches you, the way you shiver when the fabric brushes down your legs. you kick them off and now you’re in nothing but your underwear, straddling him, your hoodie still half pushed up, breath coming in shaky bursts.
“fuck,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “you’re really just gonna sit here looking like that and expect me to behave?”
“i like it,” you manage to say.
he smirks. “of course you do.”
his hands slide down slow, fingers splaying wide as they skim the sides of your thighs, tracing the shape of you like he’s memorizing it. and then they’re under your ass, lifting you just enough so he can shift your panties to the side, fingers brushing over where you’re wet and aching. he whistles low, mouth curling into a grin. “fuck,” he mutters. “you really needed this, didn’t you?”
you let out a shaky breath, gripping his shoulders like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. your whole body jolts at the first real contact, the drag of his fingers through your folds, slow and sure, like he’s testing what you can handle. “so wet for me already,” he murmurs, circling your clit with maddening precision. “and i haven’t even done anything yet.”
he rubs slow circles with the heel of his palm, watching you squirm. your hips jerk instinctively, but his hands pin you down. he keeps you still, makes you feel every slow movement, every teasing glide. he’s not in a rush. you might be desperate, but he isn’t. not anymore. still, he slips a finger inside you, slow, deliberate, and your whole body tightens around him. he groans low in his throat.
“tight,” he mutters, adding a second finger without warning. “jesus. you’d fall apart if i fucked you right now.” you moan, breathless. “you’d let me, wouldn’t you?” he says, curling his fingers just right. “after all that teasing.”
“yes—”
his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing tight, lazy circles as his fingers fuck into you deep and steady. you can’t breathe, can’t think, just clutch at him like you’re drowning. and then he leans in close, voice a growl against your ear. “you need someone to put you in your place,” he says. “you act like you’re in charge, but look at you now. look how easy it is to break you.”
your thighs tremble around his hips, pleasure building sharp and fast, overwhelming. “you like being handled like this, don’t you?” he asks again, his tone dark, laced with smug delight.
“yes,” you gasp, hips twitching.
“of course you do,” he says. “you like being fucked slow. deep. with a hand on your throat so you remember who’s in charge.” his other hand slides up again, fingers wrapping gently around your neck and your whole body tenses in response. “you make everything so difficult,” he says. “all your mixed signals, all your little games. but this? this is simple. this is what you really wanted.”
your walls clench around his fingers as your body tips over the edge, sudden and hard and overwhelming. your mouth falls open in a moan you can’t stop, hips jerking despite the grip he has on you. he doesn’t let up. just keeps fucking you through it, watching your face the whole time.
“look at you,” he breathes. “so fucking pretty like this. i should’ve done this a long time ago.” your body’s shaking when he finally slows down. he pulls his fingers out and brings them to his lips, licking them clean like he’s tasting something expensive. “mm,” he says. “sweet.”
you stare at him, wrecked and speechless, still trying to remember how your lungs work. then he leans in, takes his fingers back to your clenching cunt again, his voice rough in your ear. “tell me how it feels.”
you grip his shoulders tighter, fingers digging into the fabric of his hoodie. “it feels good.”
“how good?”
“i don’t know—fuck—soobin—”
he presses a little harder, the friction just right now, and your hips jerk again. “you like when i touch you here?” he asks, eyes locked on yours, no trace of softness in his voice.
“yes,” you breathe. “yes, i do.”
his fingers slide between your folds, slick and warm, and he lets out a low groan. “fuck,” he mutters again. “you’re soaked.” you whimper, forehead dropping to his shoulder. his fingers move with ease, finding your clit again and circling it with infuriating slowness.
“look at me,” he says. you lift your head, barely. your eyes meet his, and the intensity there nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. he curls his fingers inside you, hitting just the right spot, and you cry out before you can stop yourself. your hips grind down, chasing the pressure. “needy little thing,” he says, amused. “so much for being in control.”
you whimper again, half shame, half desperation. he’s relentless now, thrusting his fingers in and out while his thumb circles your clit, pushing you higher, closer. “soobin—”
“tell me you’re close.”
“i’m close,” you breathe, eyes squeezing shut.
he leans in again, lips ghosting over your ear. “then say please.” you hesitate, and his pace slows. “come on,” he murmurs. “you’ve been bossing me around for months. let me hear you beg.”
you’re shaking now, thighs trembling around him, every nerve on fire. “please,” you whisper.
“louder.”
“please, soobin—please don’t stop.”
his mouth curves into a grin, and he gives you exactly what you asked for. “good girl,” he says again, and this time, you fall apart in his fingers, and god, this feeling is smoothing, something you don’t remember feeling it before.
you’re still in his lap, limbs loose, head buzzing, the movie’s looping on the laptop like background noise at a bad dream rave. his hand is parked on your waist—heavy but not pushing, more placeholder than threat—and you can’t decide if you’re melting into him or trying to keep from slipping clean off the planet.
he’s the one who breaks the hush. “you’re thinking again,” he says, voice low.
you don’t look at him. “i’m recovering.”
“that’s what i’m worried about.” his thumb taps a slow beat against your skin. “every time you start thinking, you talk yourself out of wanting me.”
you snort, tired and raw. “i literally just made a mess on your hand. i think the wanting part is confirmed.”
“for now,” he says. “in ten minutes you’ll start reciting the ‘i’m not that into guys’ speech again, and i’ll be back at square one.”
you lift your eyes, glare half-heartedly. “square one was me calling you pretty in a kitchen full of tequila fumes. i’d say we’ve upgraded.”
“fine,” he admits, lips twitching. “square two, then. still a demotion from where i’m sitting.”
you finally meet his gaze, and it is clear, unflinching, annoyingly perceptive, and something inside you trips. the room tilts a millimeter. because you realize he isn’t holding you tighter, he isn’t trying to start round two, he’s just… waiting.
the silence stretches. your brain tries to sprint off a cliff, but your body’s too heavy to follow. so you talk, because you can’t not. “i’m not gonna pretend i’m suddenly into guys again,” you say, words slurred around honesty. “and i’m definitely not in love with you, so don’t get weird.”
“bold of you to assume i want either,” he shoots back, all teeth.
you blink. “you don’t?”
“i like you messy,” he says, shrugging one shoulder. “in love is boring. this—” he gestures to the tangle of limbs and shame you’re both stewing in— “this is entertaining.”
you should probably punch him. instead you laugh, breathless. “you are absolutely dirty.”
he smiles, small but real. “dirty keeps you on my lap, apparently.”
you roll your eyes, shift, realize he’s still hard beneath you and freeze. he notices, of course he does, and tilts his head, studying your face. “thinking again,” he murmurs.
“wondering,” you correct, voice thin.
“about?”
“if i should, um… help you?”
his brows lift. “help?” he echoes, amused. “sound mighty altruistic of you.”
“shut up,” you mutter, cheeks burning. “i’m new at this.”
“new at what?”
“wanting a guy enough to… you know.”
he hums, all fake contemplation. “we could have a symposium. ‘introduction to blowing choi soobin.’” you smack his chest; he laughs, catches your wrist, threads your fingers through his. the joke dissolves, but the warmth sticks. “we can slow down,” he says, quieter now. “or stop. or order pizza. i don’t care—just don’t ghost me.”
you stare at him, throat tight. “i don’t want to stop,” you whisper.
his thumb strokes the back of your hand. “good. then tell me how you want to start.”
the question hangs there, simple but also terrifying. your pulse trips a little faster. “kiss me again,” you answer, voice steadier than you feel. “but slow.”
“slow.” he nods, serious. “any further instructions, boss?”
“don’t call me boss,” you mutter.
“princess?” you glare.
“soobin,” you warn.
his grin spreads, wolfish. “see? thinking stopped. progress.”
he leans in (slow, like requested) and kisses you softer than before, mouths parting, breath catching, no rush. your hands slide up into his hair, anchor there; his free hand cups the back of your neck, thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. and when you finally pull back, you’re trembling again, but it’s a quieter shake.
his eyes search yours. “so?”
you laugh into his shoulder. “shut up and keep going.”
“sure,” he whispers, mouth brushing yours, “but remember—if you want more, you ask.”
you nod, firm. “i will. i promise.”
you don’t remember when his hands started moving again, but they’re under your hoodie again now. his mouth is still pressed against yours, but the kiss has changed. it’s deeper and slower. and he’s not letting you lead anymore. he tilts your chin up with one hand, holds you there like he’s adjusting the angle of something he owns. his other hand slides along your spine, dragging heat everywhere it touches.
his hands slide back down to your hips, pulling you toward him until you’re close enough to feel everything again. he shifts his leg just slightly between yours and applies the lightest pressure, forcing you to roll your hips against his thigh. your mouth falls open without meaning to.
“feels good?” he asks, low.
“yeah,” you whisper.
he hums, unimpressed. “what was that?”
“yes,” you say again, louder.
his hand moves to the back of your neck. not rough, just enough to hold you still. to keep you looking at him. “you’re gonna do what i say,” he says. “because you want to. not because i make you.” you nod. “say it.”
“i want to,” you whisper.
“you want what?”
“i want to do what you say.”
he smiles. “then take your hoodie off.”
your hands move before your brain catches up. you pull it over your head, toss it to the floor. your chest is rising and falling too fast, and he’s just sitting there, watching you like you’re a puzzle he’s already solved.
his gaze drags over your body, slow and hungry, but he still doesn’t touch. instead, he leans back slightly and says, “take off your bra.”
your fingers fumble a little, but you do it. it joins the hoodie on the floor. he exhales like it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to. and then he looks you in the eyes again. your body’s humming, nerves and heat and need all tangled together. his hands slide up to cup your chest, thumbs brushing over your nipples, slow and deliberate. he watches every twitch of your face as he touches you.
“you like being told what to do?” he asks, voice low, dragging.
“yeah.”
he raises an eyebrow. “say it.”
“i like being told what to do.”
he kisses you slow one last time before pulling back. “then get off,” he says quietly.
you blink, breathless, already lightheaded. “what?”
he tilts his head. “off my lap. on your knees. on the floor.”
you stare for half a second. then your body moves before your brain can argue. you climb off the bed and drop down onto the floor between his legs, palms pressing into the hardwood for balance. your knees hit the floor, and the air shifts.
he exhales like the sight alone is enough to wreck him. his legs spread wider, slow, deliberate, and he leans forward a little, one hand cupping the side of your face. his thumb drags along your cheek, down to your lip. “look at you,” he murmurs. “you ever been on your knees for a guy before?” you shake your head. he smiles. smirks, really. “good.”
his thumb presses against your bottom lip, slipping inside just slightly. your mouth parts for him on instinct. “open,” he says, and you do. he pushes his thumb in deeper, then pulls it out just as slow. “good girl.”
your breath stutters. he leans forward more, one elbow resting on his thigh as he looks down at you. “you’re doing so well for me. on your knees, waiting for what i give you. you don’t even know how pretty you look like this.” his other hand slides into your hair, not hard, but firm. guiding and steady. you can feel how calm he is—like this is just natural for him. like having someone kneeling between his legs is a position he was meant for. “hands behind your back,” he says.
you obey, slowly, feeling the shift in your own body when you do. your balance changes. your chest pushes forward slightly. your breath feels deeper and needier. he smiles. “you want to do something for me?”
“yes,” you whisper.
“then ask.” your throat tightens. he leans closer, almost nose-to-nose, his voice a quiet threat. “ask me what you want, baby.”
“can i…” your voice breaks. you swallow. “can i touch you?”
he leans back, sits up straight, eyes heavy on yours. “you want to touch me?”
“yes.”
“where?”
your cheeks burn. “your cock.”
his breath hitches. he doesn’t show much, but that gets him. a shift in his jaw. a slight flex of his thigh. “say it again.”
you breathe in. “i want to touch your cock.”
he smiles. “then take it out.”
you move carefully, your hands now free again, fingers working his waistband, slow and precise. you don’t rush. he watches you the entire time, like you’re a performance made just for him. and when you finally pull him out, hard and heavy in your palm, his breath leaves in one long, quiet exhale.
you look up, eyes wide. “now what?” you ask, voice barely there.
he smirks again, hand back in your hair. “first, you keep those pretty eyes on mine the entire time,” he says, voice low and dark. his hand tightens just slightly in your hair, not painful, just present. like a reminder: he’s the one leading. “start slow,” he says, voice steady. “get used to the way i feel in your hand.”
you swallow, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. he’s warm and heavy. hard enough to make your pulse spike just from the weight of him in your palm. you glance up. “like this?” you ask.
he nods once, but doesn’t say anything. just watches. the corner of his mouth lifts a little. proud, curious and patient. you start to stroke, slow and careful, your thumb brushing over the head like you’ve done this before—you did, but it’s different with him. he makes it feel deliberate, like every movement matters.
“good,” he murmurs. “tighter. don’t be scared.”
you adjust, hand squeezing a little more, sliding down and back up in a steady rhythm. you’re learning how he twitches, how his breath catches, how his thighs tense a little under your arms when you get the pressure right. he lets out a quiet groan.
“yeah. just like that,” he says, hand sliding to cradle the side of your face. his thumb traces your cheekbone. “you’re so fucking good at this, fuck—” you blush, ridiculous considering the situation, and he smirks. “you like hearing that?” he asks.
you nod. “yeah.”
he hums, thumb brushing your lips again. “then earn more of it.”
your hand speeds up slightly, bolder now. you’re watching him just as much as he’s watching you, studying every reaction. every flicker in his eyes, every tiny breath that tells you yes, this.
“spit on it,” he says suddenly, and your stomach flips. you glance up again. he looks right back, unblinking. “go ahead. don’t be shy.” you lean in, let spit fall from your lips, and he groans when it lands just right, messy and perfect. “fuck, that’s it,” he mutters, hips jerking slightly. “that mouth’s gonna ruin me.”
you stroke him again with your now-wet hand, and his jaw clenches. he leans forward, hand sliding back into your hair, this time with more grip.
“open your mouth,” he says. you do, lips parting obediently. he taps the tip of his cock against your tongue, slow, dragging it over your bottom lip, and you hold still, waiting, not rushing. letting him guide you. “don’t take me yet,” he says. “just taste.”
you lick him, slow and soft, and his eyes flutter half-closed. “again,” he says. his voice is lower now, strained. you lean forward more, lips wrapping around just the tip, sucking gently. “fuck,” he breathes, thumb brushing your cheek. “you keep looking at me like that and i’m gonna lose it.”
you moan softly around him, just enough to make him shudder. his hand tightens in your hair. “you want to keep going?” he asks. you nod, mouth still full, eyes wide. he groans again. “then you’re gonna take what i give you.”
and you do. you let him guide the rhythm, slow thrusts, shallow, letting you get used to the weight, the stretch. his grip is steady, voice low as he talks you through every inch. “you’re doing so well,” he murmurs. “look so fucking pretty on your knees like this. taking it like a good girl.”
you press your thighs together, pulse pounding in your ears. your whole body’s on fire, but you don’t stop. you keep your eyes on his. you let him control the pace. you listen. because nothing’s ever felt quite like this. he’s barely holding himself back now, his hips rolling deeper into your mouth, hand fisted in your hair, jaw clenched tight. your throat’s sore, your lips stretched, spit dripping from your chin, but you don’t stop. you don’t want to stop.
“fuck, that’s it,” he growls, voice sharp. “you like this, don’t you? like being used like this.”
you hum around him, and his whole body jolts. his other hand grips the edge of the bed like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. he’s panting now, jaw tight, eyes locked on yours as your head bobs with the rhythm he’s set.
“look at you,” he hisses. “so fucking obedient now. you’ll take anything i give you, won’t you?”
you nod, gagging just a little as he pushes deeper. his thumb brushes your cheek again, almost tender, but not soft. “shit, baby,” he groans. “just like that. don’t stop. don’t you fucking stop.” his breathing gets rougher. his thighs tense. his grip tightens. “you’re gonna take every fucking drop,” he says, voice low and wild. “don’t even think about pulling back.”
and when he comes, it’s with a broken, wrecked moan, his head falling back, his whole body shuddering. he holds you there, deep in your throat, as his cock pulses between your lips. you stay still. obedient. take every drop, exactly how he told you to. he pulls out slow, panting hard, watching you swallow every bit like it’s a reward.
“fuck,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “you’re dangerous.”
your legs are shaking, your body’s buzzing and your throat hurts. but your eyes are still on him. and he smiles.
he leans forward, grabs your arms, and pulls you off the floor like you weigh nothing. places you back in his lap, one hand still wrapped in your hair, the other gripping your thigh. his voice is calmer now, but darker.
“so?” he asks, breath still a little ragged. “you like praise better?”
you blink. “what?”
“you like when i call you a good girl?” he says, fingers brushing your jaw. “tell you how pretty you look on your knees?”
you nod, a little dazed. “yeah…”
his hand tightens suddenly on your thigh. “or do you like it more when i talk to you like a fucking toy?” your breath catches. his eyes narrow. “like when i say you’re only good for your mouth? that you were made to take cock and nothing else?” you gasp. your body tenses, and he sees the reaction instantly. his smirk spreads slow. “that’s what i thought,” he says.
your voice is barely a whisper. “i like both.”
he raises a brow. “yeah?”
you meet his gaze. “you can do whatever you want.”
his eyes darken completely. something in him shifts. he leans in close, voice like a promise against your skin. “you don’t know what you just agreed to.”
he hasn’t let go of you. your legs are thrown across his lap now, arms limp around his shoulders, your chest pressed to his. and still he’s got one hand curled around your jaw like he’s not done claiming it. he tilts your face up and studies you. not like you’re fragile, but like you’re fascinating.
he chuckles, meanly. “you look wrecked, baby. wrecked and all fucking mine.” his fingers trail down your neck, slow and soft. “you like when i say that?” he murmurs. “that you’re mine?”
you nod, small. “yeah.”
he kisses the edge of your jaw. “you like being good?”
“yes.”
he smirks against your skin. “but you also like when i treat you like a dumb little toy.” your whole body tenses. he chuckles again. “you fucking melt when i talk like that, huh?” he says. “wanna be praised and spat on in the same breath.”
he pulls back just enough to look at you. your face flushed, lips swollen, eyes wide and glassy. “fuck, you’re pretty when you don’t know what to do with yourself,” he says, almost admiring. “bet you don’t even know who you are when i touch you like this.”
his hand slides down your stomach—over the curve of your hip—back between your thighs, over your ruined underwear. you gasp and twitch. he grins. “yeah. that’s what i thought.” he presses just a little harder, fingers rubbing through the fabric. “still this wet for me? even after everything?”
you nod, biting your lip. he tsks, shaking his head. “you don’t learn, do you?”
you swallow, trembling. “i wanna be good.”
he chuckles. “you are. but you’re also a little desperate. greedy. filthy.” his fingers tug your panties to the side and slide against you again, slow, controlled, so light it makes you ache. “should i finger you again like this?” he says. “while you sit in my lap like a good girl? or should i bend you over and fuck the brat out of you?”
your breath catches in your throat. “or maybe i shouldn’t touch you at all,” he adds, tilting his head. “maybe you don’t get to come unless you beg.”
“soobin—”
he grabs your chin again, eyes sharp. “say it.”
you’re panting now. hot and flustered and completely under him. “please,” you whisper. he waits. “please touch me,” you say again, voice cracking. “please make me come.”
his smirk is slow. cruel. gorgeous. “that’s more like it.”he slides two fingers back inside you without warning, and your whole body jolts. “you’re gonna take everything i give you,” he murmurs. “and you’re gonna say thank you when you come.” your legs shake. your grip on his shirt tightens. “say it.”
“thank you,” you breathe.
he kisses you—filthy, fast—and then breaks away, breath hot against your mouth. “don’t come yet.”
he’s not moving fast. he’s not giving you what you want, not really. and that’s the point. he’s watching you, studying you, like he’s waiting for something specific. a crack. a shift. the moment where your body stops trying to lead and just listens. he leans back slightly, his fingers inside you don’t speed up, and they don’t slow down either. just deep enough to tease, never enough to let you lose yourself. he’s giving you nothing and everything at once.
he watches your face closely, eyes scanning your mouth, your eyebrows, the way your breath catches. you’re close, he knows it. he can feel the way your body tightens around him, the way your thighs shake just barely. you’re trying to hold back. trying not to move too much. it’s cute, in a way. respectful, obedient even. but he doesn’t want nice right now.
“you’re doing it again,” he says, voice low, calm.
your eyes flutter open, confused. “what?”
“holding it in,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your waist. “trying to be good in the wrong way.”
you blink, breath trembling. “i thought you wanted—”
he cuts you off with a quiet laugh, not mocking, just amused. “i want you to be good, yeah. but not quiet. not frozen. not careful.” his fingers slide deeper and you gasp, hips twitching. “good doesn’t mean silent.” he leans in, mouth near your ear. “if i wanted a doll, i’d buy one.”
your breath stutters. your hands grip his shoulders, nails digging in just slightly, and that makes him smile. “there you go,” he murmurs. “there’s my girl.” he moves his fingers again, just a little faster now, just enough to make your whole body jerk. you bite your lip hard, trying not to cry out. “still fighting it?” he says. “you think i don’t notice how tight you’re clenching around my hand? you think i don’t feel how close you are?”
you shake your head, desperate. he pulls back slightly to look at you. “look at me.” you do, barely. your vision’s blurry, and your mouth’s open, and you’re so close it almost hurts. “you wanna come?” he asks, calm. direct.
“yes,” you breathe.
“you sure?” you nod. his voice drops lower. “you ready to say thank you when you do?”
you nod again, more frantically. he keeps his eyes on yours as his thumb finally finds your clit, rubbing slow circles while his fingers thrust deeper. your whole body reacts at once, tensing, jerking, then unraveling.
“come for me,” he says, and you do.
it hits hard, sharp and blinding. your legs tremble. your fingers dig into his arms. your mouth opens but nothing comes out except broken gasps and a soft, choked sob. and through all of it, his hand doesn’t leave you. he works you through it, slow, steady, like he’s memorizing every second.
your body slumps against his chest. he holds you there for a moment, his hand still resting between your legs but not moving anymore. you’re breathing hard, face pressed into his shoulder. then his mouth finds your ear again. “thank me.”
you whisper it without thinking. “thank you.”
he exhales, satisfied. his fingers slip out of you, slow and careful. he brings them to his mouth, licking them clean without breaking eye contact. you watch, dazed, and he grins. “good girl.”
he lifts you gently, shifts you until you’re straddling him again, your knees on either side of his hips, your body still shaky. his hands hold your waist firmly, steadying you like he knows you can’t do it on your own yet.
he tilts your chin up, and there’s something new in his eyes now—still dark, still dominant, but softer around the edges. like he’s trying to decide something. “you were made for this,” he says, quiet. “you know that, right?”
you swallow hard. “yeah.”
his thumb brushes your cheek, and then he leans back, legs spread, hands resting on his thighs like he’s just relaxing, like he’s not watching every single twitch in your body. you’re still on his lap, still catching your breath when he says, low and steady, “get on.”
you look at him, confused, dazed. “what?”
he grabs your hips, drags you forward slightly, then leans in just enough for you to feel his breath on your jaw. “you like being on top, right?” he says, voice calm but full of something sharper underneath. “so ride me.”
your heart stutters. your thighs are still shaking. he knows.
“go ahead,” he says. “show me how good you are.”
you shift back slowly, thighs trembling, one hand steadying yourself on his chest while the other wraps around his cock. he’s already hard again—how is he already this hard?—and thick in your palm, warm and heavy. you hold him there, just under the tip, as you line yourself up, and for a second, you hesitate.
you bite your lip. your body’s still sensitive, your legs sore, your mind fogged, and there’s a pressure building low in your stomach that has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with the way your heart starts to race. it’s been a long time since you let a guy inside you. since you even wanted to. and even now, it feels foreign. like your body’s remembering something it forgot on purpose.
but you want this. you want him. so you press down slowly, barely taking the tip, and your breath catches in your throat. he doesn’t say anything, just watches. his hands resting on your hips, not moving, not pushing. but he’s tense and alert. like he knows you’re struggling and he’s waiting to see how far you’ll go on your own.
you lower yourself more, inch by inch, and the stretch makes your eyes flutter shut. it burns. not unbearable, but tight, too tight. your thighs start to tremble harder, and your fingers dig into his shoulders for balance. his grip on your hips tightens.
“breathe,” he says, calm. “take your time.”
you nod, shaky, and try to relax. you ease down another inch, and your whole body reacts—hips twitching, core clenching, thighs starting to cramp. it’s too much all at once, and not enough at the same time.
he cuts you off gently, one hand lifting to brush your hair from your face. “don’t stop now. you wanted to ride my cock, right? prove you can take it.”
you whimper, breath catching again, and finally sink lower, slowly taking more of him. your legs feel weak. your cunt clenches tight around him, and the stretch still burns, but underneath it, there’s something else. a pulse. a heat that starts to take over the discomfort.
he groans quietly, his jaw tense. “shit. you’re so tight.” you press your forehead to his collarbone, trying to stay steady. “don’t hide,” he says. “let me see you.” you lift your head, barely, and his eyes lock on yours. “good girl,” he mutters. “you’re almost there. just a little more.”
you shift again, forcing your hips down further, until you’re fully seated in his lap. he groans, deep and low, his fingers pressing harder into your skin. “fuck. there you go.”
you’re breathing hard, thighs trembling, everything inside you stretched to its limit. “hurts?” he asks. you shake your head. he smiles, not sweet. “good.” you glare at him, but there’s no strength behind it. “you’ll get used to it,” he says, voice low. you sink down slow, body trembling, and his grip tightens on your hips. “that’s it,” he mutters. “fuck—look at you.”
you start to move, unsure at first. he lets you find your rhythm, lets you work for it, but his hands don’t leave you. he keeps you steady, fingers digging into your waist. his eyes never leave your face.
“you like being in charge?” he says, breath rougher now. “then don’t fucking slow down.” you moan softly, trying to keep the pace, but your legs are tired, your body already wrecked. your movements falter, and he notices immediately. “what’s wrong?” he says, lips curling. “getting tired already? thought you liked being on top.”
you try to keep going, bouncing slow, your hands braced on his chest.
“keep your eyes on me,” he says. you do, barely, and he grins when he sees the look in your face. “you’re falling apart,” he murmurs. “and you’ve barely done anything.”
he doesn’t slow down. he grabs your chin again, makes you look at him. “ride me like you mean it,” he snaps, thrusting up into you suddenly, making your whole body jolt.
“fuck, soobin—”
“no. don’t whine. you wanted this. show me.” you try. you move your hips, faster this time, trying to match him. he watches you closely, hands on your ass now, guiding your movement, controlling the depth. “that’s better,” he says. “now you’re working for it.”
you gasp, leaning forward, forehead on his shoulder. he grabs your hair and pulls your head back up. “no hiding. i wanna see you struggle.” your thighs are shaking so hard it’s hard to keep the rhythm. your breathing’s uneven, your nails digging into his arms. “you can take it,” he says, voice lower now, almost gentle. “i know you can. you’re my good girl, remember?”
you moan again, louder, and he smiles. “there she is,” he murmurs. “knew you’d come back to me.” your hips stutter again, and he slaps your ass once, not hard, just firm enough to make you move. “don’t stop until i say,” he says. “and if you come first, you’re doing it with my name in your mouth.”
your fingers grip his shoulders harder, your thighs are burning now, trembling with effort, but you force yourself to keep going. up, down, again. you’re trying to stay focused, but the stretch of him inside you, the heat building low in your stomach, the pressure of his hands guiding you—it’s all too much, and not enough at once.
he watches you the whole time, eyes fixed on your face. you can’t hide anything from him like this. not the way your brows pinch together, not the way your mouth keeps falling open with each bounce, not the quiet, broken sounds that slip out no matter how hard you try to hold them in.
“you wanted this,” he reminds you, calm. you nod, desperate, hips moving faster now, sloppy and uneven but still trying. he lets you ride him, lets you feel like you’re in control, just for a second, until he shifts beneath you and fucks up into you hard, once, and your whole body folds forward with a gasp. “thought so,” he mutters.
your forehead falls against his collarbone, and he pulls your hair, tilting your face up again. “no hiding.” his mouth brushes yours, not quite a kiss. “you look like you’re gonna cry.”
“i’m not,” you breathe, though your voice is shaking.
“you will if i tell you not to come yet,” he says, like it’s just a thought. you whimper. his hand moves from your hip to your throat, loose but solid, just enough to hold you still. “you like this?” he asks. “being used like this?” you nod quickly, eyes fluttering shut. “don’t lie.”
“i’m not.”
he leans in, lips by your ear again. “you gonna come for me?”
“yes.”
“say my name.” you pause, too close to think. “say it.”
“soobin…”
he groans, deep and low, and that’s all it takes for his rhythm to break. he grabs your waist hard and starts fucking up into you, fast now, with purpose, like he’s chasing the end and dragging you there with him. “come on,” he mutters. “come for me. make it count.”
you do. your whole body shudders, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent moan. everything inside you pulls tight and snaps all at once, and you collapse against him, shaking. he holds you through it, breath heavy against your ear, his arms wrapped tight around your waist like he’s trying to keep you from slipping through his fingers.
then he moves. he lifts you off him slowly, carefully, lays you down on the bed like you weigh nothing. you’re still catching your breath, blinking at the ceiling, when you feel the mattress dip again and his weight settles beside you. his fingers slide down your stomach, soft now, slow. “you like praise,” he says, almost casual. “but i think you like it more when i’m mean.”
you glance at him, lips parted. he leans in close. “so tell me, baby,” he murmurs. “you want me to ruin you with my mouth or just make you cry again first?”
“i can’t,” you breathe, voice shaky. “i can’t take it anymore.”
he tilts his head, like he’s not sure he heard you right. his hands are already back on your thighs, spreading them open again, his body moving lower, slower, like this is nothing for him. like he’s just getting started. “can’t?” he repeats, tone light, mocking. “you sure, baby?”
you swallow hard, legs twitching under his grip. he presses his mouth to your inner thigh, kissing slow, warm, soft, too soft. like he’s pretending to be sweet again. and it only makes the tension worse. “you looked so fucking confident riding my cock,” he murmurs, right against your skin. “and now you’re what? tapped out?” you shake your head weakly, but he keeps going, lips trailing higher, breath hotter. “you want me to stop?” he asks, voice low.
“no.”
“then don’t say can’t,” he says, and bites down on the inside of your thigh, sharp enough to make your hips jerk. “say please.” your breath catches. “say it.”
“please,” you whisper, barely audible.
he smiles against your skin. “thought so.”
he kisses higher, right between your legs now, and you gasp when his mouth finally finds you again, tongue slow, deliberate, dragging over your sensitive skin with zero mercy. you’re already overstimulated, every nerve lit up and shaking, but he doesn’t stop. he knows you’re right there again, and that’s exactly what he wants.
“you’ve teased me for weeks,” he says, voice muffled against you. “walking around in those tiny fucking shorts. sitting on my lap like it’s nothing. saying shit like ‘you’re my favorite boy’ with that little smirk on your face.” you whine, twisting under him, but he holds your hips down with one arm and licks a slow circle around your clit without touching it directly. “you think i didn’t notice? think i didn’t see you bite your lip every time i looked at you too long?”
you’re panting now, legs trembling again. “and now you wanna act all shy?” he scoffs. “now you can’t take it?” his mouth finally closes around your clit, sucking slow and deep, and your hips buck hard, but he doesn’t stop. “you can take more,” he mutters. your fingers find his hair, tugging, trying to anchor yourself to something while your body starts to come undone all over again. “i’ll be gentle,” he says, pulling back just enough to look at you, mouth wet, eyes dark. “but only if you fucking ask.”
you stare down at him, dazed, lips parted. “go on,” he says. “ask for it.”
“please,” you gasp, voice breaking. “please, soobin—be gentle.”
he grins against your skin, slow and cruel. not because he wants to be mean. because he can. because you gave him permission. “that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he murmurs, lips brushing your thigh. “knew you could ask nicely.”
then he moves again, mouth right where you need him, tongue flat and slow against your clit this time, no teasing now. just heat, rhythm, and pressure. your hands grab at his hair, your back arching off the bed, and he doesn’t stop. doesn’t even pause. “fuck, you’re so wet like this,” he says, voice low, fingers gripping your thighs to keep you wide open. you moan, louder now, hips trying to move against his face, chasing the rhythm. “good girl,” he mutters. “you want to come for me like this?”
“yes—yes, please—”
“then keep your legs open.”
you do. you try. your whole body’s tight, burning, desperate. he knows exactly how to keep you right there, his tongue curling just right, lips pressing just enough, his hand slipping lower, fingers teasing your entrance without going in. “you close?” he asks, voice rough and muffed now.
you nod frantically. “so close—please don’t stop—”
he groans into you, and the vibration alone almost pushes you over the edge. his fingers finally slip inside, two of them, smooth and deep, curling just right, and that’s it. you fall apart.
your whole body spasms, legs trembling violently, a loud moan breaking from your throat as you come hard, everything clenching tight around his fingers. your vision goes white for a second, and you barely register the way he keeps going, slow now, helping you ride it out, dragging every last wave out of you until you collapse into the sheets, twitching and breathless.
he finally pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, then crawling up over you, eyes dark and satisfied. “you’re so fucking hot like this,” he says, voice low. “all soft. all mine.” you can’t even speak yet. your chest rises and falls, skin flushed, lips parted. he leans down. “now,” he says, tone shifting—less gentle, more commanding again. “turn over.”
you don’t speak. you just move. your body shifts slowly, limbs still weak, and you roll onto your stomach like he asked, like he told you to. your face sinks into the pillow, and you feel his eyes on your back. you know what he sees: the curve of your spine, the way your legs part instinctively, the way you arch your back so he sees your ass available for him to take it. you hear him exhale, sharp through his nose. a pause, then the bed dips as he moves behind you, knees spreading yours a little more, hands running down your back with purpose, not care. he doesn’t soothe. he positions.
soobin stays still at first, taking his time. watching how you lay there for him, waiting. looking how your shoulders tense like you don’t know what’s coming next, but you want to. he likes that. he likes that a lot.
his hands drag down your back, not to comfort, but to arrange. he touches you like he’s correcting something. a tool out of place. a painting hung crooked. “lower,” he says. you sink deeper into the mattress. his palm lands between your shoulder blades, keeping you there. “stay.”
then nothing. just the weight of his hand. the silence. he takes a deep breath. “you have any idea how long i’ve waited for this?”
you don’t answer. he leans down, lips barely brushing your ear. “how many times i pictured you just like this?” his voice is calm, almost bored. “on all fours for me,” he mutters. “but you talk too much. always making jokes. always pretending like you’re not dying for me to shut you up.” his fingers slide down your side, pausing at your hip. “you don’t get to pretend now.” his grip tightens. “so stop fidgeting.” he forces your hips up, adjusts the angle himself like your body’s just another thing to be handled. “just like that,” he says. “good girl.”
he doesn’t rush. doesn’t say more than he needs to. because he knows you’re listening to every breath, every word, every shift in tone. and when his cock teases your cunt and he watches the way your body twitches. the way you don’t stop him. “still so sensitive,” he mutters. “but you’ll take it.” he presses slow, watching you squirm, watching you try to be still. “don’t you dare move.” you breathe out hard. he can hear it. feel it. “that’s what i thought.”
he pushes deeper. drags it out. makes sure you feel every second of it. then he leans back, sitting tall behind you, hands steady on your waist. this isn’t about what you want. not anymore. so he aligns his cock with your drooling entrance again, and smacks his hand in your ass, and you whimper, a whiny whimper. he chuckles, low and provocative. “you’re not gonna come until i say,” he says. “and if you do, i’ll edge you ‘til you cry.”
you whimper into the pillow. “but if you listen?” he continues. “i’ll let you come so hard you forget your own name.” he rolls his hips forward, just once, just enough to make you scream. his cock makes you feel so full already, especially in that position. your legs shake. “choice is yours. not mine,” he adds. “yours.”
he pauses again. then pulls back, only to snap his hips forward harder this time, controlled and deep. again. again. his pace isn’t rushed. it’s mean. efficient. every thrust timed with precision. he watches your hands claw at the sheets. hears the sounds you’re trying to hold back, and it makes him smile. “you were so sure you didn’t like boys,” he mutters. “but look at you now.” another thrust, harder. “fucked out like a bitch.”
his hand slides to your throat from behind again, just resting there. “you’re mine tonight,” he says. “say it.”
“i’m yours,” you whisper.
he grins. “louder.”
“i’m yours, soobin! please!” you choke out.
his grip tightens, choking slightly, just containing you, grounding you to the moment. then he leans in, breath hot against your ear. “yes, yes,” he says. “you are fucking mine.”
if anything, now that you’ve said it—i’m yours—he settles deeper into it, into you. into the full weight of what it means to have you like this: pliant, spread out, quiet except for the sounds you can’t hold back. it’s not just about the physical now. it’s the power. the permission. and he’s going to stretch it as far as it can go.
his hands stay locked on your hips, thumbs pressing into the dip of your waist as he fucks into you slow and heavy, no urgency in his pace, just control. all of it his. he watches your shoulders tighten with each movement, the way your back arches when it’s too much, the way your face twists into the sheets to muffle sounds you don’t want him to hear. he hears them anyway. he loves them.
your hand reaches for the pillow, gripping tight, but you don’t fight him. you don’t even ask him to slow down. he leans over you again, pressing down on your back with one hand to keep you steady, his chest brushing your spine. his breath fans hot against your shoulder as his hips drive into yours again, firmer now, drawing a helpless cry from your throat.
“you gonna keep taking it like this?” he asks, not because he needs permission, but because he wants to hear the sound of you begging again. “or you gonna fall apart like a little brat who talked too much?” your fingers dig into the mattress. “go ahead,” he mutters, almost laughing. “prove me wrong.”
you let out a shaky breath, half a moan, half something broken. he sits back up, dragging you with him by your hips, making you meet each thrust head-on. he doesn’t slow. he doesn’t give. he stays steady and mean, dragging it out just enough to feel cruel. “you wanted to be in charge, right?” he says. “whatever you tell your little girlfriends.”
he leans in again, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back just slightly. “but you came crawling to me. let me put you on your knees. let me fuck you like this.” he pauses, breath heavy. “so which one is it, baby?” he murmurs. “you like being in charge? or you like being ruined?”
you try to answer, but all that comes out is a moan. his grip in your hair tightens just a little. “nah. use your words.”
you manage to whisper, barely audible: “i like it—like this.”
he smirks. “i know you do.”
he lets go of your hair, both hands dropping back to your waist as his movements grow rougher, rhythm sharper now, like he’s chasing something but refusing to let either of you reach it until he decides. you feel your body tighten again, another orgasm building fast, threatening to take over, but you remember what he said earlier. not until he says.
you try to hold it. try to breathe through it. but your legs are trembling, hands fisted in the sheets, and he’s relentless now. he notices. he always notices. “you close again?” he asks. “tsk tsk… already?”
you nod desperately. he chuckles under his breath, dark and satisfied. “don’t come yet.” you whine, legs shaking harder. “nope. not yet,” he says again, slower this time. “you want it? then beg.”
you gasp. “please, soobin—i—i need it—”
“yeah?” he says, still moving, still holding you right on that edge. “wanna cream my cock again?”
“yes—please—”
“beg harder, angel.”
“please—please, i need it, i need you—”
he groans deep in his throat, and finally, finally, his hands shift, his pace changes, more erratic now, more brutal, like he’s losing his own control right along with you. “come for me,” he growls. “right fucking now.”
and you do, loud and raw and completely undone. your whole body tightens and shakes beneath him, and he doesn’t stop. doesn’t give you time to catch your breath. he fucks you through it, eyes locked on the way you break for him. his name’s the only thing that comes out of your mouth.
he follows seconds later, a sharp curse escaping him as he buries in your cunt deep and stills, hands gripping so tight they’ll leave marks on your hips. he breathes through it, shaky and harsh, chest heaving, body pressed to yours like he needs the contact just as much as he needs the release.
the room is silent for a beat. just the sound of two people wrecked and catching up to themselves. finally, he leans down again, presses a kiss to your shoulder, and murmurs against your skin—
“you really don’t hate boys, do you?”
you let out a laugh, a real one. exhausted and a little horrified. “don’t start.”
“no, i’m serious,” he grins, turning his head toward you, as you switch your body, turning around to face him. “i feel like i just contributed something meaningful to your sexual awakening.”
“that’s… such a weird sentence to say out loud.”
“yeah, well. you’re the one who was like, ‘i’m not into guys’ and then came on my cock like, what? four times or something?”
you groan and cover your face with your hands. “i hate you.”
“you’re literally still shaking.”
“shut up.”
he doesn’t. of course he doesn’t. instead, he sits on the edge of the bed right next to you, and his fingers start tracing light, absent-minded patterns along your spine, featherlight, soothing, almost tender. it’s stupid, really, how soft he is now, after everything. after the way he touched you, took you, like he had no intention of being gentle.
and yet here he is, brushing his fingertips over your back like you might break. and you hate how much you like it. how easily it melts something inside you. because it’s not just the touch — it’s him. the contradiction of him. soobin, with his filthy mouth and his gentle hands.
“listen,” he says, voice dropping into a mock-serious tone, he stretches his arms behind his head, still catching his breath like nothing monumental just happened. and then, in that same too-casual voice, he says, “if you ever feel like exploring your… curiosity more, you know, about your preferences or whatever…” you glance over at him, one eyebrow raised. his expression doesn’t change, except for the little shrug he gives, half amused, half dead serious. “i’m available for educational purposes.”
you exhale, slow and disbelieving. “you’re such an asshole.”
“maybe.” he turns his head toward you, gaze dragging over your bare shoulders, his mouth twitching. “but look where it got me.”
you shake your head, but you don’t move away. you don’t slap his arm or tell him to shut up again. instead, you let your knee knock against his, your breath finally starting to feel like your own again. the air shifts between you, not heavy or awkward like you thought it might be. just… different. charged, maybe. softer around the edges. there’s a quiet comfort in it now that you hadn’t expected.
minutes pass, the movie already ended, the blood-streaked screen frozen in place. then your voice breaks through, low and almost thoughtful. “do you think they survived?”
soobin blinks. “who?”
“the girls,” you say, nodding toward the laptop. slumber party massacre, paused on a cheap shot of cleavage and red corn syrup. “from the movie.”
he tilts his head, gives it a second of actual thought. “nah. they’re all dead. definitely.”
you hum in agreement, a small smile playing at your lips. “yeah. figured.”
there’s another beat of silence, and then he says, “but you would’ve made it.” you look at him, unsure what he means. he keeps going. “you’ve got final girl energy. like… the type who doesn’t run upstairs. the type who waits. watches. stabs the killer with his own weapon.”
you laugh under your breath. “i feel like that’s a lot to project onto me.”
he shrugs. “or maybe you’d flirt with the murderer and confuse the shit out of him until he gave up.”
you grin. “there it is.”
he smirks. “i’d be the dumb hot one who dies first.”
“you are the dumb hot one.”
“thank you for seeing me.”
it shouldn’t feel like relief, this moment. but it does. like something that could’ve broken just… didn’t. like maybe it bent a little, stretched out of shape, but held. and somehow, you’re both still here—naked, slightly dazed, watching a bad slasher movie with blood on the screen and probably some still on your thighs.
you peek at him again. he’s looking at you like he never stopped. “you okay?” he asks, voice quieter now.
you nod. “yeah. i’m good.”
his hand finds your knee again, thumb brushing idly across the bone. it’s casual. but it’s not. you let your head fall onto his shoulder, stare at the screen without really seeing it. plastic knife. overexposed skin. predictable death.
and next to you, soobin. the same soobin who still uses three-in-one shampoo and forgets to charge his phone. the same boy who always lets you pick the movie. who saves you the middle seat on the couch. who carries your bag when you complain and never says anything about it. the same boy you trusted enough to call when your heart was broken. the same one you teased too much and touched too often and didn’t admit you wanted until now.
maybe you were never that into guys. but soobin never felt like just a guy. he felt like a constant, a question mark that stayed open too long. and now, with his hand on your leg and that dumb horror movie frozen in front of you, it finally clicks:
maybe you were never into boys. but you were always, always into him.
author’s note: this might be one of the longest pwp fics i’ve ever written and ngl i was so hesitant to post it. the themes felt a little too specific, a little too personal, and i kept going back and forth like “do i really wanna put this out there??” but then i re-listened to 1980s horror film by wallows and my brain just went: okay but what if this was about beomgyu. or soobin. and suddenly i had 15k words of confused bisexual tension, dry humping, and one very persistent movie night. anyway. if you made it this far, thanks for reading!! and for letting me indulge in a character dynamic that’s messy and horny and kinda tender in all the wrong ways 🖤
synopsis IF YOU LET ME STAY THE NIGHT, I THINK I MIGHT JUST HAVE TO STAY FOREVER ⋆ 𐙚 ̊ in which you spend 7 days in cebu, and the fellow tourist you meet by chance makes it difficult for you to stomach the thought of leaving.
pairing choi soobin x (f) reader
genre fluff, smut, reader and soobin are both tourists, strangers to friends to lovers
a/n first fic on this blog kinda nervous :3 been feeling sososo much for my soobie doobie these days, my love couldn't help but spill all over tumblr. hi, new friends! ♡
It seems as though the whole universe has conspired against you.
Standing under the scorching heat, you could not help but think that you should have stayed in the confines of your sweet, humble abode. If only Karina hadn’t convinced you to, in her words, “Step out of your comfort zone, you homebody!”, then maybe you would have been 12 episodes deep in a new drama, or even getting your rank rating up in League of Legends.
It’s hard to gaslight yourself that your trip to Cebu is supposed to be a cathartic experience when it’s all starting so horribly already. Not when you are fresh off a miserable flight with the person in front of you reclining their chair all the way. Not when some businessman spilt their coffee all over your pristinely white hoodie, mumbling that you should have stayed out of the way because he has a flight to catch. Not when you are all alone while everyone else seems to be having the time of their lives raving about the beaches and parties this place has to offer. Not when you couldn’t even shoot a message to Karina complaining about how this was such a dumb idea for a raging introvert like you, because your stupid phone is betraying you and it can’t catch a stupid signal.
And while you are easily irritated, it’s also easy for you to come to terms with the fact that you will be stuck on this island by yourself for 7 days. You tried your best to convince Karina to come with you, but she kept insisting that it was time for you to attempt solo traveling just for the experience. Easy to say for someone as outgoing as her. You huff, feeling defeated as you slump to sit on your luggage, waiting for a cab to take you to your hotel, when you catch sight of a man bickering with… a cab driver?
“What do you mean I have to pay a thousand pesos? My hotel is 15 minutes away!”
If you thought you were already the epitome of irritation, this guy was far worse. He looks like he just clawed his way out of hell with how messy his hair is and how much sweat he’s drenched in. Not to mention the bags under his eyes and how flushed his skin looks from how hard he’s keeping his annoyance within and oh god, he’s beautiful.
He drags his feet to walk away from the cab, eyebrows still furrowed, and you had to begrudgingly stop yourself from checking this stranger out because you do not want embarrassment to lace all the exasperation you’re feeling right now. You feel your cheeks heat up when you realize he stopped to stand beside your slumped form, sulking like you’ve lost all your will to live.
“Jesus, it’s so hot…” you hear him groan as he types away on his phone. You assume he’s complaining to a friend because it’s what you would have done. That is, if you could catch a signal.
You giggle to yourself and he snaps his head to look at you, expression softening.
“Tourist?”
He’s talking to you. What the hell are you supposed to do when a man (who looks like he stepped out of a typical romance drama) strikes a conversation with you? You choose to face him, avoiding eye contact, and nod meekly.
He immediately whines. A behavior such a stark contrast to a man whose figure towers over you, “Can you believe that cab driver tried to charge me 1000 pesos for a 15-minute ride? My friend told me they overcharge tourists like crazy, so I should just act angry, but I guess I’m not scaring them off..?”
You finally make eye contact with him, skimming over his features. He’s handsome, but not in a way that suffocates you. He’s… cute. Makes you feel fuzzy inside with his soft features. Round, wide eyes, nose slightly scrunched, and the way his front teeth sit on his bottom lip makes him look like a bunny who wasn’t given enough carrot treats. What the fuck are you even saying at this point? He’s just some guy. Okay, a gorgeous one, at that.
You clear your throat, “Maybe you should try an Uber?”
“Ubers aren’t available in the Philippines…”
You nod, not knowing what to say. You’ve proven yet again that you are physically incapable of talking to cute guys.
“Shit. Now my phone is at 1%.”
You snort, “I’d offer mine, but this dumb fuck cannot catch a signal.”
He sighs defeatedly, now sitting on his luggage as well, “Aren’t you going to try and get a cab?”
“I was going to, but after seeing you with that cab driver, I might as well just take a flight back home already…”
He chuckles. Even his laugh is pretty.
“Maybe you’re better at haggling than I am?”
He seems to be right, because the first cab driver you hailed instantly agreed to drive you for 300 pesos. You nod at the stranger while loading your luggage in the back, and he smiles at you in return. You’re probably never going to see each other again. So much for a short-lived airport crush.
You fall back onto the expanse of your bed once you’ve checked in, relishing in the comfort after a pain-staking flight. Stretching your back, you’re relieved to find that the hotel wi-fi works like magic, finally satiating your need for chronically online personal time. After a few moments of scrolling through your feed to see what you’ve missed, you grew bored, pressing the call button beside Karina’s contact name. Her face lights up your screen immediately.
“Yah! Why are you on your phone instead of the beach? I just saw you repost a Tiktok 5 minutes ago!”
You roll your eyes, “Can’t a girl replenish her social battery before going out and about all alone?” She simply chuckles, giving you an avenue to start complaining to her about all the mishaps that have happened so far. You drone on and on until you’ve lost track of all the time you spent just grumbling over every inconvenience, and she reassures you that maybe you used up all your bad luck, and from hereon, everything will fall into place smoothly. You aspire to be as optimistic as she is. Soon enough, she yawns, saying that it’s time for her afternoon nap, and you’re left to scurry over to the bathroom to freshen up.
It’s 4PM when you step out of your hotel room, padding over to the lobby to ask for the pathway to the beach, when you catch sight of a familiar tall figure hunched over the receptionist desk. He seems to feel your presence, because he snaps his head towards you.
“Huh? Oh!”
It’s the cute guy from the airport. You swear you’re going to get a heart attack.
“O-oh? Hey,” you try to muster out. You really, really suck at talking to cute guys.
He smiles, “Didn’t know you booked the same hotel! We could have shared a cab, then.”
“Would be weird to tell a complete stranger which hotel I booked, right?” You didn’t mean for the words to trail off your mouth quite harshly, really, but your realization hits you too late when his face flushes in panic as he responds. “A-ah! Yeah! I suppose it would be really weird. Sorry…”
You glance over at the receptionist desk to see that there was no one manning. Great. Now you can’t weasel your way out of this awkward situation.
“Uh… I was going to ask the receptionist where the pathway leading directly to the beach was, but I guess there’s nobody here?”
He’s shocked. It’s almost animated how his expressions are painted on his face. “I was going to ask them too! I’ve been waiting for about 10 minutes now, but I have no idea where the receptionist has gone, so…” He trails off, and maybe it’s the impatience getting to your head, so you ask,
“You want to just fuck it and find it ourselves?”
He looks at you, and for just a moment, you’re terrified. What if he thinks you’re hitting on him? Wanting to spend time alone with a hot guy? You almost think you’re fucked until he flashes a grin.
“I’m already itching to get my feet in the sand.”
And that’s how you find yourself walking side by side with him. You learn that his name is Soobin, and that he’s from South Korea, working in corporate like you. Soobin tells you about his friend that was supposed to come with him, but he booked his flight incorrectly in an absentminded haze, thus he was traveling solo. You tell him that your friend practically had to bribe you into going on this vacation because of all the stress you have bottled up from your miserable job. He lets out a giggle, saying that he needed to get away from his laptop screen given that even typing was giving him a migraine.
Despite your closed off nature, it was surprisingly easy to fall into a conversation with Soobin. Maybe you enjoyed the conversation a little too much, because it’s only then that you realize you’ve been going around in circles, still not finding the beachside.
“Do you think we’re lost?”
He turns over to you and stops in his tracks, smiling sheepishly. “Maybe?”
And then it hits you. You’re lost. God knows where you are, and you’re stuck navigating your way back with someone you met less than 5 hours ago. Did you really put your guard down for a stranger?
“Shit,” you pull out your phone, only to be reminded that it’s practically useless. It doesn’t help that you’re in a dead zone. You see him fiddling with his phone, seemingly to find a way to map yourselves out of this, but he was met with disappointment upon reading the words “no cellular service”.
You groan, wanting nothing but to go back to your hotel room to curl up in your bed, but Soobin was still adamant on finding the beachside. Unfortunately for you and your aching legs, you had to choose between dragging yourself sluggishly or having a tantrum in the middle of nowhere. The latter was a no-go, obviously, unless you had a death wish?
The fatigue and anxiety were catching up to the both of you as dead silence remained in the air, save from the small huffs you were letting out occasionally. Soobin glances at you from time to time, seemingly to check on your pathetic state. The sun was starting to set, and you’re certain you were going to make it to the headlines as the 25 year-old woman who (a) perished in extreme fatigue and irritation, or; (b) got brutally murdered by a bunny-looking stranger twice her size.
You don’t notice that you were looking at the ground, questioning every life decision that has led you to this absurdity, when Soobin’s awed gasp snaps you back into reality.
“Heol…”
You look up to see a breathtaking view, all yours to behold. The sun was setting in the horizon, etched in the apricot sky. Palm trees breezed through the path, and the salt in the air barely grazed your tongue. Soobin has his mouth agape, eyes full of wonder. Okay, maybe he’s not a serial killer out to murder you if he brought you to such a beautiful part of the seaside. Unless this is all part of his grand scheme to let your guard down? But he looks clueless as he can be, perhaps you were more likely to be the murderer in this situation.
“Come! There’s no one around!” Soobin hurriedly waddles over to a spot just below the trees, inviting you to join him. Once you’re sat beside him in the sand, he stretches the entirety of his legs, letting out a hum of relief. He has a stupid smile on his face as his eyes glaze to take in the golden hour.
“I’m sorry I got us lost. I’ve never been good at directions,” Soobin smiles apologetically. “But hey, this view is nice. We have this all to ourselves.”
No one was around. Okay. Maybe this is the part where he brutally murd-
“I hope you’re not too tired. I… kinda heard you huffing a lot earlier and I figured you were getting antsy. Also it was probably because you were lost in god knows where with a dude you just met, so that must have been scary for you? I can’t convince you that I’m completely harmless because that would make me more suspicious, right? And oh god why am I rambling?” He’s melting into a puddle of embarrassment. Usually, you liked it when men learned to shut the fuck up, but you tolerated his rambling. He was quite… endearing, actually.
You let out a small chuckle, “Soobin, it’s fine. We’re chill. I was just tired of walking in circles, that’s all.” He sighs in response, fingers tracing shapes in the sand.
“The view is beautiful though. I’m kinda glad we got lost. We can gatekeep this experience,” you add, shooting a reassuring smile. Now you feel bad for ever thinking ill of him, because the way he perks up and grins at you just seals the deal that he was never a threat. Soobin turns away to continue watching the sunset, basking in the way the sun’s rays kiss his skin.
Time flew by too fast, and now you’re left with the problem of how you’re supposed to go back to the hotel, when a light suddenly beams at the two of you.
“Hey! This is private property!” Fuck. No wonder there weren’t any people around. The two of you get escorted out, with the security guard huffing about how “kids these days just fool around everywhere”, to which you and Soobin turn crimson profusely. You had no choice but to push your luck, asking him the way to your hotel no matter how embarrassed the pair of you were.
“Okay… that was humiliating,” you cringe and glance over at Soobin, who was not faring any better than you. His cheeks were still puffed out, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip.
“Kinda feels like we’re trauma bonded now,” he mutters, praying that this time around, you were going the right way. “Trauma bonded over a humiliation ritual…. today felt too long.”
You hum, “Yep. Might have to skip dinner. I just want to sleep and stock up on social battery for the next 6 days.”
His eyes widened, “Wow. We have the exact same hotel and trip duration.”
You nod, not knowing what to make of this new knowledge, but all the rummaging in your brain was instantly cut off by him.
“Do you, perhaps…” His voice turns small. “Perhaps you’d like to stick together?”
“A whole week together? You might get sick of me.”
He grins, “Well, if by chance I do, it would be totally fine. We’re most likely never going to cross paths with each other again anyway.”
You don’t know what compels you to, but you agree.
You hope Karina would be proud of you stepping outside of your comfort zone (and trusting that some guy doesn’t offer you as human sacrifice.)
The next few days went by like a dream.
On the second and third day, Soobin took you ziplining and leaping off waterfalls despite your protests. You remember how your heart skipped a beat at his proud, child-like grin when he got you to admit that facing your fear of heights ended up rather enjoyable. The day after, the pair of you decided to take a break from the adrenaline and wandered off to the cultural spots Cebu had to offer. You didn’t expect him to take such good shots of you, worthy enough to be posted on your wilting Instagram account. Karina had even bombarded you with question marks, asking if you’ve finally made a new friend. Imagine her shock when you sent her a selfie you had taken of the two of you, and she found out your new “friend” looks like he stepped out of a manhwa.
By the end of the fifth day of your escapades with Soobin, you had suggested trying out the beachside bars your Tiktok algorithm was raging about. It seems like Karina had magic senses, because your phone suddenly chirped with a text notification while you added finishing touches to your makeup.
rina<3: u crack cebu boy yet?
You furrow your eyebrows at this.
: huh
: we’re FRIENDS
rina<3: and he’s ur exact type
: well yes
: but it would be weird to get in a random stranger’s pants
rina<3: dude that’s exactly why
: u can just leave it behind
: what happens in cebu stays in cebu type shit
: esp if hes bad in bed 💀
: you are so…
: what if i catch something from him
rina<3: feelings?
: oh u meant an std
: i snooped through his instagram and mans looks bitchless anyway
: his following list consists of league gameplay accounts and 4 of his friends
: ugh idk man
: i just
: hes hot but
: i’d rather not put weird thoughts in my head about a dude i’m spending the remaining days with
rina<3: LMAO it’s okay i’m playing
: just sayin u only live once
: and i’ve prayed hard for u to finally get laid again
: especially after ur ugly ass ex
: and don’t tell me u haven’t snooped through his ig either
: ?
: i have but
: just out of pure curiosity
rina<3: love when u get defensive
: u in bed alrdy? do u wanna call and catch up
: im yearning for my best friend
: awww i’m going out
: trying the beachside bars
rina<3: oh? 👀
: enjoy <3
: hoping u break ur vow of abstinence
: ????
: love you
: i’ll call u tomorrow evening maybe
Karina sends a heart and a wink in response, making you smile and shake your head
Looking at yourself in the mirror, you adjust a strand of your hair and suddenly become antsy. All those talks about Soobin suddenly made you feel hauntingly self-aware. You hate to admit that you wanted to look pretty to him. Life has a way of making things fall into place so perfectly, because not long after your frustrated fussing, you hear three knocks on your door. Soobin.
You pad over, opening your door to see Soobin standing in true, awkward, painfully endearing Soobin fashion.
His eyes fall on your face, drifting just a millisecond to your bikini-clad and sheer covered body. You barely miss the way his cheeks burn despite the cold air from your room.
“You look-” he starts, but cuts himself off. Alarms blare in your head. Look horrible? A mess? You look like you tried to get all pretty for me but absolutely failed?
“Look what?” you squeak out, voice small. He scratches his neck, as if debating what words to say. You’re painfully fretting over every possible response until he eventually mumbles something after a few beats.
“You look beautiful.”
He says it so sincerely it makes your head spin. But alas, Soobin is Soobin…
“Not in a creepy way! The color of your outfit just fits you really well. And the way you did your hair and makeup is pretty cool. And-”
You shush him, trying to calm your heart that is about to beat out of your chest, “It’s fine, Soobin. You don’t look too bad yourself.”
Awkward silence then envelopes you in the warmly lit hotel hallway, both of you not daring to meet each other’s eyes.
You were the one to break the stillness, “Let’s go?”, to which he hums in response. He looked like he had much more to say, but you don’t dare to pry him on his thoughts in fear of further straining the situation.
One thing you liked about spending time with Soobin is how the two of you go well together. Platonically, you swear. It isn’t even five minutes deep into the walk together when you’re back to telling each other mundane stories about your lives back home. Soobin whines about how he misses his dog, Tori, to which you reply “so she’s far better company than me?”, causing him to ramble in panic. You, in turn, tell him about how you don’t want to come back to office paperwork when you’ve been having the time of your life getting your feet in the sand all day.
“I wish we could stay here forever,” he sighs, seemingly in a haze as the night breeze grazes his hair. “It’s been really fun just doing anything and everything with you.”
You take the chance to finally, actually look at Soobin. He towers over you, looking you straight in the eye like he doesn’t know your heart is about to beat out of your chest every time he does so. His hair is messy from the wind, the outline of his face perfectly chiseled by the moonlight gracing his skin.
In that moment, you know something starts shifting between your feelings and your ever-so rational mind. You can’t help it. Not when he’s looking at you like you hung up the moon. Not when his beauty is one you would only find once in a lifetime.
You’re done for.
Despite this, you push your thoughts down your throat, managing to whisper, “I’ll really miss you when we go our separate ways, you know?”
He chuckles, “Because I’m the only male friend you have that actually takes good photos of you?”
“Your words, not mine.”
He beams teasingly before adding, “I’ll miss you too. A lot.”
Suddenly confronted with the vulnerability of your words, you tear your eyes away from him and start kicking sand beneath your feet, “I don’t know why I got sappy, sorry. I still have 2 days with you.”
“It’s cute,” Soobin reassures you. As a friend would, right? You don’t want to overthink it. “I never would have thought we’d warm up to each other so fast, but maybe I was meant to meet you on this trip.”
“Just so you have someone to buy you vinegar for your jellyfish stings?”
“That, and we make quite a good pair for people who only met at the start of this week.” Your heart feels like it’s being tugged from all sides, painfully reminded of the fact that you’ve grown attached to him in such a short period of time.
Right. You really shouldn’t get too attached to someone who will be an ocean away by the following week.
Your forlorn musings are interrupted by the chants of people that cut through the bubble you and Soobin have placed yourselves in. He flashes an ever so sweet smile at you, taking your hand in his.
“You ready to get absolutely shitfaced?”
The world is spinning before your eyes.
“Sooooobieeee” you slur out, arm snugly wrapped around his. “Let’s drink more!”
You don’t know how much alcohol is flowing through your bloodstream, but it was enough for you to cling into Soobin like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. Literally. If it weren’t for him, you would have fallen face flat into the ground.
He squeaks, “No more! You’re red all over!”
“And you’re not!” you pout, “It’s like I’m the only one having fun!”
You would have thought he was starting to get sick of you if it weren’t for his grip tightening before he says, “I’m having fun. But-”
“Soobin. Soobin. I’m going to throw up.”
He mutters a profanity in his native language, dragging you up so gently and guiding you somewhere your inebriated mind couldn’t fathom. It’s only when you breathe in the stench that you piece out that he had taken you to the bathroom (more specifically, the line of people leading to it.)
“Don’t barf on me, please,” Soobin practically begs, rubbing circles on your back as you lean further into his grip, dopey smile plastered on your face as you admire him from the angle below.
“You’re really, really, reallyyyy cute, Soobie,” you squeeze the bicep you’re clinging onto, making the man shriek in surprise. “How are you even real?”
He chooses to look away from your eyes that keep raking all over him, cheeks now a carmine red.
“I told you earlier that you didn’t look too bad yourself, but I wanted to tell you that you looked absolutely fucking beautiful. Far prettier than me. Even though I spent so long trying to look cute for you,” you stumble over your words as he keeps his hold on your waist. You don’t even notice that it was your turn to enter the bathroom when he sighs and escorts you inside, oblivious to the stares you got from stepping inside together.
He positions you so that you’re hunched over the toilet, his annoyingly long legs folded to keep you at eye level while he bunches your hair up. As your drunkenness wills, you expel the intoxication out of your system as Soobin wipes the sweat off your face and neck. When all is done, you look at him and weakly ask for toilet paper to wipe your face with, to which he takes it upon himself to do it for you, gingerly padding over your mouth and tear-stained cheeks.
“All okay?” Soobin asks as he throws the toilet paper away and tidies up the bathroom the best he could.
“Mhm,” you purr, latching onto his arm as he opens the door, receiving pointed stares from the people witnessing you step outside together. You were all oblivious to it, wanting nothing but to curl up into the heat his body tenders. He’s silent as you stumble over your feet, and yet he traces his arm back around your waist once more.
“Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you back.”
“But you haven’t even drank that much yet!”
“I’m not a heavy drinker.”
You sulk as he maneuvers you all the way back to your hotel room.
When he sets you down on the bed, your frown only gets deeper. He’s immediately rummaging through your bathroom, hurriedly asking where your cleansing wipes are before you succumb to slumber, and returns to your side albeit not telling him where it was. It’s funny, really, the way you could see yourselves falling into this routine in the future. A future that seems so out of reach, if only you wouldn’t be miles away from each other when all this is done.
“Stay still,” Soobin whispers, as if terrified of breaking through the air of tenderness sifting through your hotel room. He holds your face so delicately as he drags the makeup off of your lethargic state. He’s merely inches away and yet he seems so far from your reach.
“Soobin,” you let out, almost a pained, yearning whimper. You feel his fingers tremble against your cheek before he resumes his ministrations with a simple hum. “You’re even prettier up close.”
Maybe it’s the liquid courage. Maybe it’s all those talks with Karina. Maybe it’s the rare occurrence of you acting according to impulse– but you close the distance between the two of you, letting out a contented sigh as you feel his plump lips against yours.
The problem is Soobin stays unmoving.
You pull away, shame overcoming the entirety of your system.
“Soobin, I’m sor-”
“Good night,” he replies curtly.
All inebriety has fallen out of the window as you lay down, pulling the sheets all over yourself. You pray this was all just a dream. That you had actually dozed off as he was busying himself on tidying the makeup off your face.
The last thing you hear before sleep overcomes you are his faint footsteps and the clicking of your door.
page.soobin: let me know if you’re awake
: i bought painkillers for you
: i’ll come by then
It’s half past 3 in the afternoon when you awake from your slumber, groaning as you curse yourself for drinking like a maniac the previous night. You simply blink at Soobin’s texts, about to reply when you recall all the humiliation you put yourself in.
Fuck. Fuck. You’re fucked.
page.soobin: you awake?
: you have read receipts on by the way
Great.
: i just woke up
: it’s fine i can manage
: you don’t have to come over
page.soobin: stop
: at least let me take care of you
: i’m okay, soobin
: i swear
page.soobin: i’m still dropping by
: elevator rn
It all happens so quickly. One second you’re grimacing at the thought of seeing him in your disheveled and oh-so dreadfully humiliated state, and the next you’re opening the door for him. He’s dressed in a baggy shirt and shorts, hair disheveled as if he’s been running his hands through it the whole while.
“You should have gone out instead of worrying about my hungover,” you grumble under your breath, eyes not daring to land on him.
“Go out? Without you?” He says it like nothing significant happened between the two of you just hours ago.
“Yeah, I don’t know about that…”
Soobin puffs out a breath he’s been keeping for God knows how long.
“Listen-”
“We don’t have to talk about it, Soobin. I’m really sorry. We should just forget that ever happened and just go our separate ways for the rest of our days here.”
Your mind is in shambles as he stares blankly, debating what to say next.
“Please look at me.”
You can’t deny his request when his voice sounds like it’s about to break. When your eyes meet for the first time since last night, everything just comes crashing out on you. He’s staring so intently, you fear you’ll break upon his gaze.
“Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
“That you find me beautiful,” he pauses before adding, “That you tried to look pretty for me.”
You grimace at his prodding. “Why would I not mean it?”
“You were drunk.”
“Just because I’m drunk doesn’t mean I’m lying.”
Just like that, another awkward silence falls upon you. You could only hear his shallow breaths, like he was holding himself back. You pray he doesn’t hear the buzzing in your brain.
“I wanted to kiss you,” he professes matter-of-factly.
“You didn’t kiss me back.”
“I didn’t want our first kiss to be of us being drunk.”
You’re dumbfounded as you took in his feverish appearance.
“So, if you’ll let me,” he murmurs, “I’d like to have a do-over.”
This time, it wasn’t you who closed the distance between your lips. In a matter of seconds, all of you is filled with him. Soobin. Soobin, who didn’t want to make a move in fear of you not reciprocating. Soobin, who was patient enough to care for you in the most minuscule of ways. Soobin, who you have at the palm of your hand, giving you himself wholeheartedly. Soobin, who has yearned for you all this time.
His soft lips glide against yours so smoothly, his hands eventually slotting around the curve of your waist to pull you in closer. Kissing him felt like coming home. Pressed up against him is where you wanted to be forever.
Soobin pushes you to lay on the bed, with him following suit. He’s careful not to put his whole weight on you, but even so, you feel suffocated by the affection bubbling within you. He’s all yours, albeit just for this moment.
“Soob,” you manage to mewl out against the kisses he is peppering all over your collarbone.
“You alright, baby?” The endearment is enough to make your legs buckle around his waist, wanting to pull him in closer.
“More than alright,” you gasp as he grazes his teeth against your neck, leaving love bites. “I just can’t believe you’re mine today.”
He furrows his eyebrows, halting his actions, “Today?”
“Today,” you frown. “Last full day together and we’re back to our old lives.”
His eyes soften immediately, brushing the strands of hair from your face before he speaks, “It doesn’t have to be just today. I’m yours evermore.”
“But-”
“I’ll visit you every now and then. You can show me around your hometown, and I’ll fly you out to mine,” he traces his finger against your cheek, “And then you’ll meet Tori. I swear you’ll fall in love with her. And we’ll have all the time to ourselves.”
You snicker, “Do you say that to the girls back home too?”
Soobin chuckles in response, a low humming in his chest, “Home is with you.”
You feel like you’re going insane as you pull him in once more, so overwhelmed with the infatuation. Your kisses escalate from shy smacks to a full-blown makeout session, eliciting soft groans from the man looming above you. The way you touch each other feels as though you’re trying to memorize the feel of your bodies, your hands making their way to the skin of his chest under his shirt.
“Take it off if you want to, baby,” he prompts, half-teasing and half-desperate. You catch your breath before tugging on it, motioning for him to help you in pulling it over his head. Every part of him looks like it was sculpted by the gods so intricately. You really can’t believe he’s yours for the taking.
“You look like you’re about to devour me,” he teases.
“I am about to devour you.”
He moans at your words, taking you aback.
“You’re into that?”
“Only if it’s you.”
You don’t know how much time passes– all you know is that your clothes ended up on the floor and he’s inching his long fingers into your heat. His eyebrows are knit as he presses each knuckle to your walls, while you are left to whimper helplessly. His pace picks up, making your face scrunch up from the pleasure.
“Soo- baby, no,” you have a death grip on his arm, trying to stop him.
“Hurts?”
“No, good,” you swivel your hips, “Just want you inside.”
He gulps, a rush of heat going straight to his groin. “Condom?”
It’s irresponsible, really. Despite having previous experiences, you’ve never done it without. You don’t know why, but your brain compels you to heave in response, “No. I want all of you.”
“You’re going to be the death of me.”
“Death by dick seems pleasurable.”
Soobin almost can’t believe the humor laced in your words when he’s about to fuck the living daylights out of you, “Don’t die on me.”
He pulls himself out of his boxers, stroking himself. He’s achingly hard, and it took everything in you not to shoot up and beg him to let you have a taste.
“Soobin, you’re huge.”
“More surface area for me to love you with.”
You were about to shoot him a cringed out look when he guided his tip to your entrance. Both your faces scrunch up in pleasure despite the lack of penetration.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“Baby,” your chest heaves, “I need you. I thought I made that clear.”
He beams, a stark contrast to him starting to inch through your insides. He’s biting his lip as he holds your hips down, “You’re- fuck.”
Your brain has officially melted into a puddle when he manages to fit everything inside. He gives you time to adjust to the intrusion, pecking your face all over. You swear this is the closest thing to paradise.
And he’s not far off. You notice how his knuckles are turning white from gripping your hips so tautly, trying to ground himself.
When you give him the signal to move, Soobin swears he could almost finish from the first thrust. He’s almost whining from the all-consuming pleasure, thrusts going from the softest brushes against your walls to calculated presses against the deepest parts of you. Soon enough, you’re babbling against his collarbone, leaving your own marks on his ivory skin. He’s yours, yours, yours.
“Fuck,” Soobin sobs, “I just want to stay like this forever.”
You can’t even bring yourself to respond verbally, resorting to clenching around him. His sobs grow even louder, hips unrelenting against yours. You wish you had met back in your hometown. You wish he was easily within your reach. You wish you had the liberty of being tangled up with him for the rest of your life. You don’t want to let him go. What can you do when the only person you’ve allowed yourself to feel everything and anything for lives oceans away?
“Baby,” your voice is weak as you scratch up his back, tugging on his nape. “About to cum.”
This only eggs him on faster, now slamming his hips roughly as he chases your orgasm. “F-fuck. I-inside?”
You hum, locking your legs tighter around his waist, “Nowhere else. N-need to have a piece of you with- in me before we fly back tomorrow.”
Your words seem to do wonders for Soobin. Your orgasm hits you at the same time he spills his warmth deep inside. You would’ve teased him about how he came so much if you weren’t twitching from the aftershocks of your release. He stays inside as the two of you unwind, him drawing circles against your hips, trying to soothe it from his death grip from earlier.
“You alright?” he mumbles against your neck, lapping at it gently. You hum in response, running your fingers through his tousled hair. You lay in silence, relishing in each other’s body warmth under the covers. He kisses the top of your head from time to time, breathing in your scent.
“I smell like vomit,” you grimace.
“You smell like sex.”
You roll your eyes, “That too. But I’m too lazy to take a shower. Just want to be with you.”
He taps your thigh, smirking, “Just say you want to take a shower with me.”
And that, you did. He takes his time with you, locking you in his embrace as the water simmers through your bare bodies. Mundane as it is, you bask in the feel of his body pressed against yours. You’d do anything to live in this moment eternally.
When it was time to fly back home, it took everything in you not to lock yourself inside Soobin’s luggage. You had walked hand in hand, waiting for each other’s flights back home. He kept kissing your knuckles, hushing sweet nothings. When your flight had been announced for boarding, you had cried in his arms, desperately wanting to take him with you. Soobin, ever the mediator, kisses the top of your head, promising to be by your side in a few months’ time. You don’t dare to look back when you enter the gate. You’re scared you’ll fall into another fit of sobs.
It’s been 5 months since, and you’re lounging on your couch, waiting for Soobin’s daily good morning message. He had been consistent in giving you even the smallest details of his life, the highlight of each of your days being the video call you hop on for your debriefings until you fall asleep.
soob ♡: good morning
: the heat is killing me
Your face lights up as his name pops up on your screen.
: good morning <3
: it’s 17° in seoul though?
soob ♡: wanna see something funny?
: baby it’s too early for your league of legends gameplay
soob ♡: heyyy :(
: but please say yes
: this isn’t related to league i swear
: ?
: okay yes i wanna know something funny
soob ♡: okay maybe this is borderline creepy instead of funny
: [Sent a photo attachment.]
You shriek as you open the photo, feet immediately waddling over to your front door.
There he is.
Soobin has a large grin on his face when his eyes land on you, a bouquet of lilies in his hand extended towards you. Even so, your favorite flowers dull in comparison to your favorite boy. The bouquet is all forgotten on the ground when you run to his embrace, one that you’ve been longing for. You don’t care if the neighbors could hear your squealing throughout the apartment hallway. He’s here. He’s here. He’s here, and he’s finally all yours.
As a chaebol, you always knew you wouldn't choose your husband. It would always be your parents' choice, not yours. A buisness marriage. Since your 6th birthday, you've been promised to Soobin, the heir of the Choi family. Over the years you became friends. But can't there be more than just friendship ?
Wc: ~12.3k
Warnings: Arranged marriage, Chaebol family dynamics and high society pressure, parental pressure and family conflict, emotional vulnerability, possessiveness, protectiveness, mild sexism/objectification (not from Soobin), power imbalance themes (family + societal, not between Soobin and reader), smut, making out, p in v, protected sex, oral f receiving, fingering, handjob.
You’ve known Choi Soobin your whole life. That’s not an exaggeration. Not in the "we went to the same school" way or the "our parents were friends so we saw each other sometimes" way. No, you’ve literally grown up with him, stitched into his days like a second shadow. The first birthday you actually remember, the one with the giant cake shaped like a castle, he was right there, wearing a crooked paper crown and making you laugh so hard you spat juice all over your expensive dress. When you went to Jeju for summer vacation as kids, you spent hours together on the beach, digging useless holes in the sand while your parents sat under parasols and talked business.
You can’t think of a single version of your childhood that doesn’t have him in it. That’s what it means to be born into families like yours: chaebol families. Dynasties. Empires disguised as people. Your life is never really your own; it’s an asset, a piece on a chessboard. Everyone knows it, but nobody ever says it out loud. Not at the long dinner tables, not in the marble hallways, not in the black cars with tinted windows.
But you always knew. Because when you were still young enough to think ten years was forever away, your grandmother leaned down and said it so casually, so naturally, like it was the most obvious thing in the world: "One day, you’ll marry Soobin."
Promised. That’s the word she used.
At first it didn’t mean anything. You were six years old and more concerned with whether Soobin would let you win at board games. (He didn’t. But he always slipped you the extra piece of candy when no one was looking, so you forgave him.)
But as you grew older, the promise became less of a whisper and more of a fact. Your families said it at parties with knowing smiles, with champagne flutes raised high. Your teachers at school looked at the two of you and shook their heads fondly. Even your classmates teased you about it, though not cruelly. It was just… obvious. It was the story everyone had already written for you.
And maybe it should’ve felt suffocating. Maybe it should’ve made you want to run away. But it didn’t, because it was Soobin. Tall, gentle, awkward Soobin. The boy who lent you his notes in high school because he knew you hated math. The boy who carried your bag without being asked when you sprained your ankle in PE. The boy who, even when the world expected him to be perfect, would trip over his own feet and laugh at himself before anyone else could.
So when the engagement was finally announced, you weren’t shocked. You didn’t cry in your room, or curse your family, or dream of some secret romance that would sweep you away from all this. You just nodded. Because this wasn’t some stranger. This wasn’t a hostile takeover. This was the same boy who used to sneak you strawberry milk from the corner store, the same boy who let you copy his answers during boring summer tutoring, the same boy who knew you better than anyone else ever could.
You're now 23 and two months ago, you married him.
The wedding was exactly what you’d expect when two conglomerates decide to tie themselves together with silk ribbon. Endless flowers flown in from Europe, tables so tall with champagne glasses they looked like crystal towers, a guest list packed with politicians and CEOs. Your dress was heavy, glittering, the kind of thing little girls dream about until they realize how exhausting it is to actually walk in.
And beside you, through all of it, was Soobin. His hand steady in yours. His eyes darting to yours every time the cameras flashed, a silent check-in: you okay? And every time, you nodded back.
The tabloids loved it. They called it the alliance of the year, the perfect pairing, the future of chaebol dynasties. Your parents smiled wider than you’d ever seen. The stock prices went up.
But under all the noise, all the spectacle, the truth was quiet: you and Soobin were married now.
And surprisingly…it wasn’t bad.
It’s been two months, and the mansion is still absurdly large for two people. The kind of place with three kitchens and a hallway long enough to echo when you walk down it. You used to feel small in it, like the house itself was swallowing you whole. But now there are slippers by the door that aren’t yours. There are mugs in the cabinet that aren't yours.
Sometimes, when you’re walking through the garden, you’ll hear his laugh drift through the open window of his study. And suddenly it feels less empty.
The truth is, you’re not unhappy. You’re not strangers fumbling through awkward silences. You’re not enemies forced to play nice. You’re not even in denial. You just…are. Comfortable. Steady. Friendly.
Because who else in the world would understand this life like he does? Who else would get the endless galas, the suffocating weight of expectation, the way your last name feels more like a brand than your own? He’s the only one who’s ever seen the parts of you that exist outside of all that, the real you, the messy, quiet, human you.
And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.
Your mornings together are strangely domestic. Not in the sitcom way, not in the “we’re cooking pancakes in matching aprons” way. More like: you wake up to sunlight spilling across the bed, and Soobin is already awake, sitting with a book open, his glasses sliding down his nose. He looks up when you stir, and he smiles in that small, sleepy way that makes your chest ache a little.
"Morning" he’ll say, voice low, gentle.
And you’ll groan, roll over, and accuse him of waking up early just to be smug about it. He never denies it, but he always laughs.
Breakfast is a table way too big for two people, lined with dishes no normal person could finish. But it doesn’t feel ridiculous anymore, not when you’re sitting across from him. Sometimes you tease him about looking like a staged magazine spread: Heir to the Choi Empire, photographed in his natural habitat. He always goes along with the joke, tilting his chin and pretending to look aloof until you’re laughing so loudly the maids startle.It’s not love. Not yet. But it’s something.
And at night, when the day’s obligations are finally over, the two of you walk the garden together. You don’t always talk. Sometimes it’s enough just to match your footsteps, to breathe the same air under the glow of the moon.
But when you do talk, it’s easy.
"Do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we hadn’t been promised to each other?" you asked him once.
He thought about it, long and serious, like he always does. And then he said "I don’t wonder about marrying someone else. I wonder if we would’ve found each other anyway."
You’d stared at him, heart aching in your chest.
"I like to think we would have" he added, quiet, almost shy.
And the worst part (the best part) was that you believed him.
The bed is big. Too big.
It was imported, of course. Some custom Italian designer your mother-in-law mentioned with pride as though you’d appreciate the craftsmanship. It could easily fit four people if it wanted to, maybe even six if you tried hard enough. But it’s just the two of you.
You, on one side. Soobin, on the other.
The mattress dips gently under his weight, a subtle reminder that he’s there, close enough that if you rolled over just a little, you could tuck yourself into the space where his warmth lingers. But you don’t. Not really. Because even though you share a bed, you don’t actually touch. Not when you climb under the sheets at night, not when you both shift and turn in your sleep, not even in the hazy, half-awake mornings when it would be so easy to just...reach out.
His body is a steady presence beside you, always within reach, but there’s a line drawn between you, invisible but sharp, and he never crosses it.
You don’t either. At least, not on purpose.
At first, it made sense. You weren’t in love. You weren’t strangers, but you weren’t lovers, either. This wasn’t some passionate whirlwind romance; this was a promise, a duty, a friendship sealed with wedding vows. The world didn’t need to know that when the cameras stopped flashing and the door shut behind you, you and Soobin just quietly agreed to go to bed. Together. Separately.
But then the weeks turned into months. And now, every night, you find yourself lying there, staring at the ceiling, wishing. Wishing for something simple. Not the grand gestures, no sweeping kisses in the rain, no cinematic declarations of love. Just…closeness. His arm draped over your waist. His breath warm against your hair. His fingers tangled with yours under the sheets. Cuddles. That’s all you want.
But every time you shift a little closer, every time you let your hand hover just inches from his, Soobin subtly moves. Not harshly, not with rejection, but with quiet, careful distance. As if to say: we’re friends, remember? And you hate that it stings.
Sometimes you catch yourself wondering if he notices. Like when you’re brushing your teeth side by side in the ensuite bathroom, and you glance at his reflection in the mirror. He looks calm, collected, as though nothing about this arrangement is strange. As though sleeping side by side without ever touching is perfectly normal.
Or when you’re both curled up on opposite ends of the couch, reading, the quiet of the house pressing in around you. You want to scoot closer, lean your head on his shoulder. But you don’t. Because you already know he’ll gently shift away, not enough to be cruel, but enough to remind you of the line.
It’s not rejection. Not exactly. It’s worse. It’s care. The kind of care that says: I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to take advantage. I don’t want to blur something you might regret.
But what if you wouldn’t regret it? The thing is, you can’t stop thinking about how easy it would be. All those years of friendship mean you already know him, the way he likes his coffee, the way he fidgets when he’s nervous, the way his laugh cracks when it’s really genuine. You already know him better than anyone else.
So what would be so wrong about leaning into him at night? What would be so wrong about asking for a little more warmth, a little more closeness?You’re married, for God’s sake. You wear the ring. You share the name. You stand beside him at every gala, every business dinner, every press event. People look at you and see a couple. They don’t see the gap between you in bed. They don’t see the way your fingers ache to reach for his.
They don’t see how much you want.
One night, the yearning gets the better of you. You’re lying on your side, staring at the shadow of him in the dark. His back is turned, broad and solid, his breathing slow, steady. The kind of rhythm that says he’s either asleep or pretending very, very well. Your hand twitches against the sheets. Just a little. Just enough to brush the edge of his side if you dared to reach.
You think about it. God, you think about it. And then you let your hand fall back, curling into yourself instead. Because you know what will happen. If you touch him, he’ll shift away. If you reach for him, he’ll gently set you back. Not cruel, not cold, just firm. Just Soobin. Drawing that same line he’s always drawn: we’re friends. I won’t cross it. I won’t let you cross it either.
And so you stay put. The distance between you becomes heavy, louder than the silence. You stare at the ceiling, heart aching in a way you can’t even explain.
But here’s the thing about yearning: it doesn’t go away just because you ignore it. You start noticing little things. The way his arm sometimes drifts across the middle of the bed when he’s half-asleep. The way his warmth seeps through the sheets and brushes your skin when you both turn at the same time. The way his voice softens when he says goodnight, even if it’s just a whisper in the dark. You want to reach across that invisible line so badly it hurts.
But Soobin doesn’t. He never does. And you wonder, late at night, when your chest feels tight and the silence feels endless, if he doesn’t want to.
The cruelest part is that he’s still Soobin. He’s still the boy who lets you steal the last dumpling at dinner. The boy who always walks on the street side of the sidewalk without thinking. The boy who makes you laugh so hard you forget what you were stressed about. He still cares for you, still looks out for you, still makes the whole weight of your life feel a little lighter just by being in it.
But he won’t touch you. Not the way you want. Not even a little. And maybe it shouldn’t matter. Maybe it’s selfish to want more when you already have so much. But when you’re lying awake in the middle of the night, staring at the shadow of his body just inches away, it feels like the only thing that matters at all.
So the bed remains too big. The line remains uncrossed. And you remain caught in the middle of wanting and waiting, wondering if one day he’ll finally reach across the space between you. Or if you’ll be the one who breaks first.
You’d been through countless dinners like this before. The polished silverware, the endless wine, the hushed but razor-sharp conversations that weren’t really about family at all, but about power. You’d sat through dozens of them with your own parents, smiling until your cheeks ached, nodding at comments you didn’t agree with, answering questions that weren’t questions but commands disguised as polite curiosity.
But somehow, walking into the Choi mansion that evening, the weight on your chest felt heavier than usual.
Maybe it was because it had been two months since the wedding, and tonight wasn’t just you being scrutinized, it was you as Soobin’s wife. The official daughter-in-law. The new extension of the Choi family name.
You smoothed the front of your dress as the butler opened the tall doors, the sound of your heels clicking too loud against the marble floor. Beside you, Soobin’s hand hovered close enough that you could feel the warmth of it, but he didn’t take yours. Not here. Not under his parents’ roof.
"Ready?" he murmured under his breath.
You nodded, though your stomach had been twisting all afternoon.
His parents were already waiting in the grand dining room, seated at the head of the impossibly long table. Crystal chandeliers glittered above. His mother’s jewelry caught the light. His father looked up from the glass of red wine in his hand, sharp-eyed even in his casual indifference.
"Finally" his mother said, her smile tight. "We were beginning to wonder if marriage had made you both tardy."
Soobin bowed slightly, polite, measured. "Traffic" he explained simply, before gesturing for you to take the seat beside him.
You sat, folding your hands neatly in your lap, back straight. You’d been trained for this, in a way. Years of practice had taught you how to smile without showing discomfort, how to look attentive even when you wanted to disappear.
The first few courses passed in silence, the clink of silverware against porcelain the only sound. But of course, it didn’t last.
"So" his father began, swirling his wine "two months already. How are you finding married life?"
You opened your mouth to answer, but Soobin beat you to it. "Comfortable" he said easily, as if that was the only word that mattered.
His father arched a brow. "Comfortable? That’s all?"
Soobin smiled faintly. "It suits us."
His parents exchanged a look, one of those silent, wordless glances that carried entire conversations. You kept your gaze lowered to your plate, pretending not to notice.
And then, as expected, his mother turned the topic where it was always destined to go.
"It’s time you start thinking about the future" she said, her voice smooth, rehearsed. "An heir. Or heirs, preferably. You both are young, healthy, there’s no need to waste time."
The words made your fork freeze mid-air. Heirs. Of course. You’d known it was coming. You’d known it from the moment the engagement was announced, from the way people at galas whispered not about the wedding but about what would come after. Your body, your life, reduced to an expectation.
But even expecting it didn’t stop the sting.
You set your fork down carefully, keeping your expression neutral.
His mother continued, as though she hadn’t just tossed the weight of an entire future onto the table like another dish to be served. "And of course, there’s the matter of your public presence. Charity work, hosting events, managing appearances. You’ve been doing...fine so far." She said the word with a little tilt of her head, a dismissal wrapped in silk. "But the press will be looking for more from you. More polish. More perfection. The wife of Choi Soobin must embody our family’s standard."
Your pulse thudded in your ears. You wanted to sink into the floor, to vanish into the glittering chandelier light above.
Because of course this was how it went. You weren’t a person to them. You were an accessory, a vessel, an extension of their empire. A trophy.
You swallowed hard, trying to will your face into calmness, but your chest ached with something sharp.
And then, for the first time in your life, you heard Soobin’s voice cut through the air, not soft, not hesitant.
"That’s enough."
The table went silent. You turned to him, startled. His gaze wasn’t on you, it was fixed on his parents.
"What did you say?" his father asked, his tone icy.
Soobin didn’t flinch. "I said that’s enough. She’s already doing everything asked of her. More than enough. She’s been dragged into every dinner, every event, every gala. She smiles, she answers your questions, she plays the role. And now you sit here and tell her she isn’t perfect enough?"
His mother’s expression tightened. "Soobin..."
"No" he interrupted, sharper than you’d ever heard him. "No more. We got married because you all decided it was best for the families. Fine. But she’s my wife. She’s not your project. She’s not your accessory. And she’s not here to be lectured like she’s never enough. She already is."
Your breath caught. The chandelier light blurred in your eyes, your throat tightening as you tried to process the words leaving his mouth.
His father’s jaw clenched. "You’re being emotional."
"I’m being honest" Soobin replied calmly, though there was a harshness beneath it. "If you can’t respect her, then you’re not respecting me either."
The silence that followed was deafening. His mother placed her wine glass down with a controlled little click. "We’ll continue this conversation another time."
Soobin stood, his chair scraping against the floor. "No. We won’t."
Then he turned to you, his expression softening instantly, and held out his hand. "Come on. We’re leaving."
You hesitated only for a second before slipping your hand into his. His grip was warm, steady, grounding. Together, you walked out of the glittering dining room, past the butlers and maids frozen in shock, out of the heavy mansion doors.
The car ride back was quiet. Not uncomfortable, just quiet. Your hands were folded in your lap, but you could still feel the ghost of his hand in yours, still feel the way your heart had been thruming in your chest from the moment he spoke up.
You kept replaying it in your head, over and over. The way he’d looked at his parents, unflinching. How he defended you. The way he’d said you're already enough. You hadn’t realized until now how badly you’d needed someone to say it.
By the time you reached your own home, your throat felt tight, heavy with unspoken words. Soobin closed the car door behind you. He turned, eyes immediately searching yours.“
"Hey" he said gently. "You okay?"
You opened your mouth, but the words tangled. "I…I don’t know."
His expression softened, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice like he was afraid to scare you off. "You don’t have to listen to them. Not tonight. Not ever, if I can help it."
You blinked fast, your chest aching. "But they’re right. About the expectations. About-"
"No." His voice was firm. He reached out, and for once, he didn’t stop himself. His hands found your shoulders, warm and grounding. "Don’t say that. Don’t let them make you believe that. You’re already perfect."
The words hit you like a tidal wave. Perfect. Not for the cameras, not for the press, not for the family name. Perfect for him.
Your vision blurred as tears filled your eyes, and you lowered your head, embarrassed. But Soobin tilted your chin up gently, forcing you to meet his gaze.
"I mean it" he whispered. "You don’t have to do more. You don’t have to be more. You’re already enough, just as you are."
Your throat closed, your breath catching. And in that moment, standing in the quiet glow of your home, you let yourself believe him.
For the first time in weeks, maybe months, the ache in your chest eased. Because Soobin, your Soobin, your best friend, your husband, wasn’t just drawing lines to protect you. He was standing on your side.
Gala nights always feel the same. The chandelier light blinding, the air heavy with perfume and champagne, the endless murmur of voices that all sound the same: sharp, polished, and calculating. Everyone dresses like royalty, but you know better. These aren’t kings and queens. They’re hunters. Sharks in glittering gowns and tailored tuxedos.
And tonight, you are the newest piece of bait in the water.
"Remember" Soobin murmurs beside you as the car pulls up to the hotel entrance "it’s just a few hours. We smile, we greet, and then we leave."
You nod, clutching your clutch a little too tightly. His hand rests lightly on your back as the chauffeur opens the door, guiding you out into the blinding flash of cameras. For a moment, you want to lean into him, anchor yourself in the quiet steadiness he always carries, but there are too many eyes on you. So you straighten your shoulders, lift your chin, and step into the hall.
The first hour is a blur of introductions. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve bowed politely, how many times you’ve heard the same compliments dressed up in different words. Beautiful couple. Beautiful bride. So radiant. So graceful.
You know they don’t mean you. They mean the idea of you. The package you present standing beside Choi Soobin, the way your gown clings in all the right places, the way your smile looks like it was practiced in the mirror (because it was).
Soobin never strays far. Even when he’s shaking hands with an executive, even when he’s laughing at a politician’s dull joke, his eyes flick toward you. Just a glance, but enough. You can feel the tether between you, invisible but taut, pulling you back to him no matter where you drift.
It should make you feel safe. And it does. Mostly. Until you start noticing the other looks.
The first man is harmless enough, at least on the surface. Mid-fifties, balding, with the kind of smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He shakes Soobin’s hand, praises the merger, then lets his gaze slide to you. It lingers. Too long.
You feel the weight of it on your skin, crawling, leaving something dirty behind. You force a polite smile anyway, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. But you see the way his eyes trail over your dress, slow and greedy, before he finally looks away.
The second man doesn’t bother with subtlety. Younger, maybe mid-thirties, handsome in a too-perfect way. He laughs too loud at his own jokes, leans too close when he speaks to you, his gaze shameless as it drags down your figure.
"Soobin" he says, clapping your husband on the back "you really lucked out. Didn’t know you had such good taste."
You stiffen, your cheeks burning, but before you can even react, Soobin’s hand is at your waist. Tight. Firm. The man notices. He smirks, raising his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes flick to you one last time before he slinks away.
Soobin doesn’t say a word. But his hand doesn’t leave your waist.
As the hours drag on, it only gets worse. Everywhere you turn, someone is staring. Some openly, some behind the rim of their champagne flutes. You can feel their eyes tracing you, dissecting you, judging you like you’re not even real. You hate it. You hate how exposed you feel, how powerless. You hate that your smile has to stay fixed, that you can’t call them out, that you can’t do anything but endure it.
But Soobin sees. He always sees. You can tell by the way his jaw tightens when another man’s gaze lingers too long. By the way he positions himself just slightly in front of you, his broad frame blocking their view. By the way his arm finds its way around your shoulders, around your waist, pulling you into his side like he’s daring anyone else to look.
It’s subtle, almost invisible to anyone else. But you feel it. The possessiveness.The protectiveness. The unspoken promise: She’s mine. Don’t even think about hurting her. And God, it makes your chest ache.
At one point, while he’s momentarily pulled aside by a board member, you find yourself cornered by another man. Older. Wealthier. The kind of person who thinks his power allows him to do anything.
"You really are stunning" he says, his voice low, slimy. "Soobin’s a lucky man. Though, I suppose…luck has nothing to do with it, hm? Arrangements like yours are always…strategic."
The implication burns. You open your mouth, ready to respond, when a shadow falls over you. Soobin. His hand slips into yours, threading your fingers together firmly, unmistakably.
"Excuse us" he says, his voice smooth but edged with steel. "We have somewhere to be."
He doesn’t wait for a response. Just pulls you away, his grip protective, his stride long and determined. Only when you’re safely in a quieter corner of the hall does he stop. He turns to you, his eyes scanning your face, his jaw still tight.
"Are you okay?" he asks, softer now.
You nod, though your throat feels tight. "I’m fine."
He doesn’t look convinced. His hand squeezes yours, grounding. "I hate the way they look at you. Like just a trophy wife, a woman that got lucky to get married to me."
Your breath catches. He’s never said it out loud before.
"I know I can’t stop it" he continues, his voice low "but I want to. Every time I see it, I want to..." He cuts himself off, exhaling hard, shaking his head. "You’re not theirs to look at like that."
Something in your chest twists. Because you’ve wanted closeness. You’ve wanted warmth. You’ve wanted him to look at you as more than just a friend. And right now, in his words, in the way his grip tightens like he’ll never let go, you can feel the start of something more.
Something protective. Something possessive. Something that feels dangerously close to want.
The rest of the night, he doesn’t leave your side. Not for a second.
Every handshake, every smile, every polite conversation, you’re close to him. His arm around you, his hand at the small of your back, his gaze cutting sharp whenever someone’s eyes linger too long.
And you can’t help but feel it. The shift. Because this isn’t just duty. This isn’t just politeness. This is Soobin staking a claim.
By the fourth hour of the gala, your cheeks are starting to ache from smiling. The air is too warm, the champagne too sweet, and the voices all blend together in a single blur of names, titles, mergers, deals. You’ve shaken so many hands your skin feels faintly numb. And all the while, you can feel the eyes. Some curious, some calculating. Some wandering.
Soobin’s hand stays at the small of your back, a light pressure that never quite lets you forget he’s there. He hasn’t said much, he doesn’t need to. His presence is enough, a steady anchor in a sea of artificial glitter and teeth.
But then you feel it. A new gaze. Heavier. Hungrier. You know it before you even look up.
The man is older, maybe late forties or early fifties. Silver hair slicked back too neatly, a tailored suit stretched over a body gone soft from indulgence. He carries his glass like an extension of his hand, tilting it lazily as he steps toward you with the kind of confidence only obscene money and unchecked arrogance can buy.
You’re standing alone for a rare moment, Soobin pulled into conversation a few feet away and the man seizes the opportunity.
"My, my" he says, his voice oily, words slured as if drunk. "So this is the famous bride."
You bow politely, lips pressed into that same polite smile you’ve worn all night. "It’s an honor to meet you."
But you don’t miss the way his eyes trail down your frame. Slowly. Shamelessly. You want to shrink, to fold yourself into nothing, but you can’t. Not here. Not with so many people watching. So you stay still, spine straight, smile fixed.
"I must say, Soobin has excellent taste" he drawls, stepping closer, far too close. "I’d heard you were beautiful, but they didn’t do you justice. You’re even more exquisite in person."
The words make your skin crawl. His gaze doesn’t leave you, lingering on the neckline of your dress, the curve of your neck. You shift slightly, trying to put a little more space between you, but he only leans in.
"Tell me" he continues, his voice low, invasive, "are you finding married life… fulfilling?"
Your throat tightens. "I..." You glance toward Soobin, who’s still deep in discussion with two executives, his profile sharp under the light. He doesn’t see you. Not yet. You force a smile anyway. "We’re very happy, thank you."
But the man doesn’t take the hint. He chuckles, swirling his drink, eyes never leaving you. "Happy, yes. But satisfied?"
Your stomach turns. You take a half-step back, trying to keep your tone even. "Excuse me, I should..."
His hand darts out, fingers brushing against your arm to stop you. "No need to run off so quickly. I only wanted a little of your time."
The contact is brief, but it feels like a brand against your skin. You stiffen, panic flashing in your chest, when suddenly, his hand is gone. Because Soobin is there.
It happens fast. One moment, the man’s fingers are on you. The next, Soobin’s grip is wrapped around his wrist, firmly, pulling him back with a force that leaves no room for argument.
"Don’t touch her." Soobin’s voice is quiet, but it slices through the din of the gala like a blade.
The older man blinks, surprised, then tries to laugh it off. "Ah, Soobin. I didn’t see you there."
"You saw her" Soobin says flatly. His grip doesn’t loosen. His height towers over the man, his shoulders squared, his presence suddenly sharp in a way that makes the air around you tense. "And you touched her."
Around you, a few people glance over, curiosity flickering in their eyes. But most look away again just as quickly: no one wants to get in the middle of a chaebol son’s temper.
The man shifts uncomfortably, trying to free his wrist. "Come now, it was nothing..."
Soobin’s jaw tightens. "Don’t. Pretend it was nothing."
He finally releases the man’s wrist, but only to step closer, placing himself directly between you and him. The message is clear: a wall, immovable, impenetrable.
The man laughs again, brittle this time. "You’re overreacting. I was simply being friendly."
Soobin tilts his head slightly, his expression calm but cold. "If that’s your idea of friendly, then I suggest you keep it far away from my wife."
The word wife lands heavy, final. The man falters. His smile slips. He clears his throat, mutters something about needing another drink, and disappears into the crowd with his pride in tatters. And just like that, he’s gone.
But Soobin doesn’t move. He stays standing in front of you, tall and steady, his shoulders tense. His hand lingers at your waist now, not the polite, guiding touch he usually offers, but something firmer. Protective.
You realize you’ve been holding your breath.
"You okay?" he asks finally, his voice softer now, turning back to look at you.
You swallow, nodding quickly. "I...I’m fine."
His gaze lingers on your face, searching, like he doesn’t quite believe you. His hand squeezes lightly at your side. "Don’t lie to me."
The words nearly undo you. Because you weren’t fine. You’d felt cornered, trapped, like prey under a predator’s gaze. And if Soobin hadn’t stepped in...
Your chest tightens. "I just… I hated the way he looked at me."
Soobin’s expression darkens, his jaw clenching. "I did too."
Something about the honesty of it makes your breath hitch.
"I wanted to..." He stops himself, exhaling hard, like he’s fighting to hold something back. Then, quieter: "I wanted to make sure he’d never look at you again." Your heart stutters.You’re not used to hearing him like this. Not your gentle, patient Soobin, who always draws the line, who always insists you’re just friends despite the ring on your finger. This is different. Closer.
For a moment, you wonder if anyone else can feel it, the tension radiating off him, the way his hand hasn’t left your waist, the way his body is angled like he’s ready to fight anyone who dares come near.
It feels like a claim. It feels like protection. It feels like something more.
By the time the gala ends, you’re running on fumes. Your face aches from smiling, your hand feels numb from shaking so many others, and your feet, God, your feet are screaming. The heels you’d chosen to match your gown were stunning under the chandeliers, but after four hours of standing, walking, and twirling through conversations, they’re starting to feel like medieval torture devices.
You don’t complain, of course. Not out loud. Not here. You’ve been raised to know better. So you keep your spine straight, your head high, and your lips curved into that picture-perfect smile as the last goodbyes are exchanged, the last congratulations murmured. You let Soobin guide you through the glittering crowd with his hand at your back, the two of you weaving toward the exit.
But the second the massive doors close behind you and the cool night air hits your skin, you can’t help it. A small groan escapes you, soft, almost pitiful, as you shift your weight from one foot to the other.
Soobin hears it immediately. He glances down at you, brows furrowing, the sharp protectiveness from earlier melting into something softer, gentler. "Are you okay?"
You nod quickly, out of habit. "I’m fine."
"You’re not fine."
"I’m-"
"Please" he says, the word carrying that quiet firmness he always uses when he knows you’re hiding something. His eyes flick down to your shoes. "Your feet hurt."
Heat creeps into your cheeks. You don’t know why it feels embarrassing to admit it. Maybe because you’ve been trained to never show weakness in public. Maybe because you hate that he notices everything, even the things you try to hide.
"...They’re just a little sore" you mumble.
Soobin’s lips press into a line. Then, before you can even process what’s happening, he crouches down in front of you.
Your breath catches. "Soobin...what are you..."
"Stay still." He’s already reaching for your ankle, fingers brushing against the strap of your heel. With surprising ease, he unclasps it, sliding the shoe off your foot. The relief is immediate, sharp enough to make you sigh out loud.
He glances up briefly at the sound, his expression unreadable, before repeating the motion with your other shoe. Both heels dangle from his fingers a moment later, and you’re standing barefoot on the cool stone steps, your gown brushing the ground.
It should feel awkward. Indecent, even. But the only thing you feel is your heart, pounding too fast in your chest.
"You didn’t have to" you start, your voice embarrassingly small.
"Yes, I did" he interrupts simply. Then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, he straightens, slips one arm under your knees, the other around your back, and lifts you off the ground.
You gasp, your hands instinctively flying to his shoulders. "Soobin!"
"Shh" he says softly, not looking down at you as he carries you down the last few steps. His hold is steady, effortless, like you weigh nothing at all. "Your feet need a break."
You should protest. You should tell him to put you down. You should laugh it off, pretend it doesn’t mean anything.
But you don’t. You can’t.
Because something about the way he’s holding you, like it’s second nature, like he was meant to, is undoing all the walls you’ve carefully kept in place to avoid getting hurt.
The car is waiting at the curb. Soobin lowers you gently into the leather seat on the passenger side, careful not to let your gown catch, setting your heels beside you. Then he slides in next to you on the driver side, closing the door with a soft click. The city hums outside, neon lights casting colors across the tinted glass as the car pulls away from the gala. But inside, it feels quiet. Intimate.
You sit with your bare feet curled beneath you, the cool leather against your skin. Your hands twist nervously in your lap, the memory of his arms around you still burning into your body.
"You didn’t have to carry me" you murmur finally, unable to handle the silence.
"I know" he says simply.
Your chest tightens. "Then… why did you?"
Soobin leans back against the seat, his gaze fixed out the window. His profile is sharp in the passing light, but his voice is softer than you expect when he answers. "Because I wanted to."
The words are simple. Too simple. But they hit you harder than anything else tonight. You look down quickly, your cheeks heating, your fingers curling tighter in your lap. Your heart feels too big for your chest, pulsing rapidly.
The car ride stretches on, filled with silence but not empty. Not anymore.
You can feel him there beside you, close enough to touch. You can smell his cologne, expensive, clean, familiar. You can sense the weight of everything that went unsaid at the gala still hanging between you.
Your throat feels dry. You want to speak. You want to thank him again, not just for carrying you, but for everything, for stepping in when that man cornered you, for standing up for you in ways no one else ever has, for seeing you in a way that makes you feel less alone.
But the words won't come out. So instead, you sit in silence, watching the city blur past, your heart beating frantically.
And beside you, Soobin stays quiet too. But his hand, resting on the armrest between you, is close enough that if you reached out, just a little, you could slip your fingers into his.
You don’t. Not yet. But the thought lingers. You glance at him once, twice, before finally finding your voice.
"Thank you."
He turns his head, surprised. "For what?"
"For…earlier." You look down at your hands, fingers twisting together nervously. "For stepping in. For...protecting me."
His expression softens, just slightly. "You don’t need to thank me for that."
"I do" you say quietly. "You didn’t have to. But you did."
Soobin’s gaze lingers on you, unreadable. Then he exhales, leaning back against the seat.
"I’ll always step in" he says simply. "No one gets to treat you like that. Ever."
You want to reach out, to take his hand, to tell him how much it means. But you don’t. Instead, you sit in silence, the distance between you feeling shorter than ever. Something fragile.
By the time you get home, it feels like you’ve been holding your breath for hours. The mansion is quiet. The staff had gone to bed hours ago, leaving only a few lamps glowing to light your way inside.
You slip out of your gown in your shared walk-in closet, the heavy silk pooling at your feet. Your jewelry goes next, then the makeup, until all that’s left is the soft cotton of your pajamas and the faint ache in your muscles. You scrub at your face in the mirror until you look like yourself again, not the glittering wife of Choi Soobin, not the porcelain doll paraded through the gala. Just…you.
When you step into the bedroom, Soobin’s already there, changed into his own pajamas, simple, loose-fitting. His hair is damp from a quick shower, sticking slightly to his forehead, and his skin looks flushed and warm.
For a moment, you just…look at him. Not the heir of the family. Not the perfect son. Just the boy you grew up with, the one you’ve known all your life. He glances up when he feels your gaze and offers you a small smile, the kind that’s reserved only for you.
"Tired?" he asks quietly.
You nod. "Exhausted."
He doesn’t push further. He never does. Instead, he simply pulls back the duvet, a silent invitation for you to climb into the bed you’ve shared for two months without ever really sharing it.
You slide in carefully, settling onto your usual side, the cool sheets freezing your skin. The mattress dips as he joins you, the familiar distance stretching between you once again.
It should feel normal by now. Comforting, even. But tonight… it doesn’t. Tonight the space feels unbearable. You try to sleep. You really do. But your body is too aware of itself, too aware of him. Of the way his breathing sounds in the dark, steady but a little uneven. Of the way his presence radiates heat under the sheets. Of the way the silence between you feels heavy.
Finally, you turn your head slightly, peeking at his silhouette.
"Soobin?" you whisper.
He shifts slightly, enough that you know he’s awake. "Hm?" His voice is soft, a little rough from tiredness.
You hesitate, chewing at your lip, your chest tightening with nerves. You want to ask, but how do you? How do you put yearning into words without breaking the fragile balance you’ve kept for so long?
Your voice is small when it finally comes. "Can I…sleep closer to you?"
The silence that follows nearly swallows you whole. For a terrifying second, you think he’ll say no. That he’ll remind you of the line, the friendship, the duty. That he’ll gently set you back where you belong, as he always does.
But then, slowly, you feel the mattress shift. He lifts his arm, the duvet rustling faintly, a quiet opening. Your breath stutters. And then you move, tentative but determined, closing the space between you and curling carefully against his side.
His body is warm, solid, real. His chest rises and falls beneath your cheek, his heartbeat steady under your ear. His arm settles around you, not hesitantly, pulling you closer as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Your eyes sting unexpectedly. "You’re shaking" he murmurs, voice low.
"I’m not" you whisper back, though you are. Every nerve in your body is alive, buzzing with the reality of him holding you for the first time.
"You are" he says gently. His hand rubs a slow circle against your back, soothing, grounding. "Hey. It’s okay."
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. "It’s just…I’ve wanted this for so long" you admit quietly, so quietly you almost hope he won’t hear. "Just this. To be close."
Soobin goes still for a moment. And then, just as softly: "Me too."
Your heart stops. You tilt your head up slightly, searching his face in the dim light filtering through the curtains. His eyes are already on you, unreadable but warm. "You have…?"
"I didn’t want to push" he admits, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. So I kept my distance. But if you want this…" His arm tightens around you, just a little. "Then I do too."
Something inside you unravels. Relief, affection, longing, it all floods through you at once, overwhelming you. You bury your face against his chest to hide the tears threatening to spill, but he notices anyway.
"Hey" he murmurs again, tilting his head to press the lightest kiss to the top of your head. "You don’t have to be perfect with me, remember?"
Your throat aches. "I know" you whisper. "It’s just…I didn’t think you wanted this."
His chest rumbles with a quiet sigh. "I wanted it too much. That’s why I was careful."
You let out a shaky laugh, half-cry, half-disbelief. "So we were both suffering for nothing?"
"Pretty much" he says, a wry smile in his voice.
The absurdity of it makes you laugh for real this time, muffled against him. His arm tightens around you, his body shaking slightly with his own soft laugh.
And then the laughter fades, leaving only warmth, silence, closeness. You curl tighter against him, your bare feet brushing his legs, your body fitting into the shape of his like it was always meant to. His hand strokes absentmindedly through your hair, a steady rhythm that makes your eyelids close.
For the first time since your wedding, since the cameras and the vows and the expectations, you feel like you can breathe. For the first time, the bed doesn’t feel too big.
You drift toward sleep like that, wrapped in his warmth, his heartbeat steady under your ear, his breath a gentle whisper against your hair. And just before sleep pulls you under completely, you hear him murmur, so soft you almost think you’re dreaming: "You’re perfect."
The strange thing is, nothing really changes and yet everything does.
You still wake up in the same bed, still share the same routines, still go through the same obligations of two people born into chaebol families. The staff still bow when you pass through the halls. His phone still buzzes endlessly with meetings and decisions.
But now, there’s this. This secret sweetness. This undercurrent of joy. This quiet revolution between the two of you. Because now, when you wake up, Soobin’s arm is already around you. Not just draped politely, not the hesitant closeness from that first night you broke the invisible line, but solid and warm, curling you into his chest as though his body is the only place you belong. His face nuzzles against your hair in sleep, his breath soft on your skin, and sometimes you wake to the press of the faintest kiss against your forehead, placed unconsciously before his eyes even open.
And when he does open them, when those sleepy eyes meet yours in the first light of morning, it’s like the entire world softens.
"Morning" he murmurs, voice rough with sleep, lips curving into a smile that’s just for you. And you can’t help it, you smile back, every single time.
During the day, the difference shows in smaller ways. When you pass him a coffee, his fingers linger on yours longer than they need to, and the contact makes your chest flutter. When you’re walking through the gardens together, he sometimes reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers with his like it’s second nature. The first time he did it, you almost tripped from how casual he was about it, as though this wasn’t something you’d been secretly longing for, as though it hadn’t taken months of restraint to get here.
At the weekly family dinners, when his parents drone on about expectations, you feel his knee press against yours under the table. A grounding touch, steady, silent reassurance. Sometimes he glances your way, the tiniest lift of his brow, the corner of his lips quirking when he catches your stifled sighs. It’s almost conspiratorial, like you’re two kids again, sharing secrets across the dining table.
And then there are the kisses.
They’re not constant, not yet, Soobin is still Soobin, careful and deliberate, not one to fling passion out into the open carelessly. But now that the line has been crossed, he doesn’t stop himself when the moment feels right.
A kiss on your temple when he passes you in the hallway. A soft peck on your lips before he leaves for the office. A lingering kiss in the kitchen when you’re both trying to cook something ridiculous together, laughter spilling between you as flour dusts your hands.
Each one feels like the sun breaking through a cloudy sky.
One evening, a week after that first kiss, you find yourself on the balcony outside your bedroom. The air is cool, the city lights glittering like jewels in the distance, and you lean against the railing, letting the breeze wash over you.
You hear the soft slide of the glass door and turn your head just as Soobin steps out. He’s changed into something comfortable, his hair slightly damp from a shower, a faintly tired but soft expression on his face.
"Cold?" he asks, stopping beside you.
"Not too much."
Without a word, he slides his arm around your waist, pulling you against his side. The gesture is so natural, so easy, that you have to bite back the giddy smile threatening to bloom. For a while, you stand there together in silence, watching the city below.
Then Soobin exhales slowly, his chin resting atop your head. "You know… I didn’t think I’d get this."
Your brows furrow. "Get what?"
"This. Us. Like this." His thumb strokes absentmindedly against your hip. "I thought marriage would always just be…an arrangement. A contract. Duty."
You look up at him, heart squeezing at the vulnerability in his voice. "And now?"
He meets your gaze, and the answer is obvious in his eyes before he even speaks. "Now it feels like the first thing that’s really mine."
Your throat tightens, and before you can think better of it, you rise on your toes and kiss him. It’s slow, unhurried, full of quiet promises. His hands slide up your back, holding you close, and the world seems to melt away until it’s just the two of you and the taste of something sweeter than you ever thought you’d have.
The weeks that follow are full of little moments like that. Moments where joy drowns out all the pressure and expectations. There are late-night talks sprawled out across the bed, the two of you whispering about old childhood memories, about dreams you were too afraid to share before.
There are quiet car rides where his hand rests on your knee, absent but deliberate, like he needs to feel you there beside him. There are stolen kisses in the library, laughter muffled against his lips when one of the staff nearly catches you tucked between bookshelves.
You’ve always known him, as a friend, as a partner, as someone bound to you by family ties. But now you’re learning him in new ways: the little hum he makes when he’s focusing on a crossword puzzle, the way he always drapes a blanket over you when you fall asleep reading, the surprisingly terrible doodles he makes in the margins of his notebooks.
And you think maybe, just maybe, this is what love feels like.
One night, after a particularly long day, you’re curled on the sofa together, your head on his chest as he absentmindedly traces shapes against your arm.
"Soobin?" you murmur, breaking the silence.
"Hm?"
"Are you happy?"
His hand pauses for a moment. Then he tilts his head, looking at you, his expression softening.
"Yeah" he says finally. "I am. With you, I am."
Something inside you warms at the confidence in his tone.
And when he kisses you, slow, deep, filled with quiet devotion, you believe him completely.
The first brush of his lips against yours is as soft as ever, but tonight, it doesn’t end there. Tonight, he doesn’t pull away after a heartbeat. Tonight, when you sigh into him, his hand slides from your shoulder to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss.
Heat sparks low in your stomach. You respond instinctively, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer. The kiss grows sloppier, more insistent, the two of you finding a rhythm that makes the rest of the world blur.
Soobin makes a quiet sound into your mouth, half sigh, half something deeper, and it shoots straight through you. His thumb strokes against your jaw as his lips move against yours with more certainty, like he’s finally allowing himself to give in.
You’ve kissed him before, plenty now. Sweet, lingering pecks that left you smiling like a fool. But this…this is different. This is hungry. This is months of restraint finally slipping.
Your breath stutters as his tongue brushes against yours, hesitant for a moment until you part your lips for him. The contact sends a shiver down your spine, your body melting against his.
His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest. You can feel his heartbeat pounding hard, quick as yours, proof that he’s just as swept up as you are.
When you tilt your head, deepening the kiss further, his fingers thread into your hair, holding you to him like he’s afraid to let go. It’s dizzying. It’s intoxicating. It’s Soobin everywhere, overwhelming.
You lose track of how long it lasts, how many times you break for air only to dive back in, lips finding each other again and again like magnets.
Your fingers find their way into his hair, tugging lightly, and the low groan he lets out makes heat flood your cheeks. The sound is unlike anything you’ve heard from him before, raw, unguarded, uncomposed and you swear you’ll replay it in your head for days.
It’s messy. It’s breathless. It’s perfect.
By the time you finally part, your head is spinning, your lips numb, your body humming with the aftermath of it all. You collapse against his chest, your forehead pressed to his shoulder. His arms circle around you instantly, holding you close, as if sealing the moment. He presses one last kiss to the top of your head, soft again now, tender.
And in that quiet aftermath, wrapped up in him, you realize something certain: You don’t ever want to go back to the days before this.
It’s not perfect. Of course it isn’t. There are still the endless demands from family, the suffocating expectations of heirs and image, the looming shadows of duty that neither of you can entirely escape.
But now you face them together. And somehow, that makes all the difference. Because now, when the days are heavy, you have his hand to hold. When the nights are long, you have his arms to curl into. And when the world feels like too much, you have the reminder that in the midst of it all, you’ve found something real. Something joyful. Something yours. Something that feels like love.
The first sign is the silence.
Normally, when Soobin comes home, there’s at least some kind of soft acknowledgment: a muttered "I’m back", the faintest of smiles, the quick loosen of his tie as he enters the bedroom you share. Not always cheerful, he’s not the type to bubble over, but steady, familiar.
Tonight, there’s none of that. Tonight, the door shuts with a low thud, heavier than usual. The sound makes you glance up from where you’re curled on the sofa, a book open in your lap. You catch sight of him as he steps inside: shoulders hunched, tie askew, hair mussed in a way that isn’t charming but messy.
"Soobin?"
His eyes lift to you, and you’re startled by how tired he looks. Dark circles beneath his eyes and there’s a tightness around his mouth that hasn’t been there before.
"You’re still up" he says, his voice low, rough around the edges.
"I was waiting for you."
Something flickers in his gaze, too quick to understand, before he looks away. He crosses the room in long strides, shrugs off his suit jacket, and drops onto the other end of the sofa with a heavy exhale.
The silence stretches. You study him, worry gnawing at your chest. "Rough day?"
"That’s one way to put it" he mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Back-to-back meetings. Arguments. The board’s restless, the investors are restless. My father-" His jaw tightens. "He never thinks anything I do is enough."
Your heart aches at the sadness in his tone.
"Soobin…"
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands rubbing down his face.
Without thinking, you shift closer. You reach out, laying your hand gently on his back. The contact makes him freeze for a second, like he isn’t used to it. Then he exhales, some of the tension removing from his shoulders under your touch.
"Want to talk about it?" you ask softly.
His head shakes slowly. "Not really."
"Then don’t" you murmur. "You don’t have to. Just…let yourself rest."
For a moment, you’re not sure he’ll let you. For a moment, you think he’ll brush you off, stand up, retreat into the shell of duty and self-control that’s been drilled into him since birth.
But instead, he leans. His body tilts until his shoulder presses against yours, heavy, grounding. You slide your arm around him instinctively, and he lets you, his weight shifting until his head drops onto your shoulder.
The breath you let out is shaky, but you hold him anyway. Your fingers find their way into his hair, brushing lightly, soothing. His eyes flutter shut, his breathing slowing bit by bit.
You whisper his name once, softly. He hums in response, too tired to do more.
"You don’t always have to be perfect" you murmur, stroking his hair. "Not with me. You know that, right?"
For a long time, he doesn’t answer. You start to think he’s drifted to sleep, but then "Why do you always know what to say?" he mutters, voice muffled against your shoulder.
A small smile curves your lips, though your chest feels tight. “Because that's what I like to hear for myself."
That earns you the faintest huff of laughter, warm against your skin. But then, before you can react, he shifts. He kisses you deeply.
He makes a low sound in the back of his throat, something caught between relief and need, and suddenly the kiss deepens. His hand finds your waist, pulling you closer until your body presses against his. It’s dizzying. Overwhelming.
It happens so suddenly you almost think you imagined it. One moment you’re still on the sofa, wrapped in the warm haze of the kiss, his forehead pressed to yours like he can’t bear to let go. The next, Soobin is pulling back, his chest heaving, his eyes dark with something you’ve never seen in him before. Not just affection. Something deeper. Something hungrier.
And before you can speak, he scoops you up. Your breath catches as your world tilts, his arms sliding beneath your knees and back like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He rises smoothly, holding you as though you weigh nothing at all, though you can feel the tension in the strength of his grip. His suit jacket is gone, but he still smells faintly of cologne and the long, exhausting day he’s carried on his shoulders.
"W–What are you doing?" you whisper, though your arms instinctively loop around his neck.
"Taking you to bed" he says simply. His voice is low, steady, but there’s a tremor under the calm, a crack in the perfect composure he’s always carried.
Your heart stutters at his words, your pulse hammering in your ears. Soobin carries you down the hall, his long strides unhurried but certain, every step echoing through the mansion. The two of you have walked this hallway a thousand times before. But this time feels different. Charged. Each step is weighted with something that makes your breath catch, makes you bury your face in the crook of his neck just to steady yourself.
You can feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, quick and uneven. He’s not as calm as he looks.
When he pushes open the door to your bedroom, the air shifts. It’s familiar, the soft lamplight spilling over the spacious room, the linen sheets tucked perfectly over the bed.
Soobin sets you down gently on the mattress, as though you’re made of glass. He lingers for a moment, his hands still at your waist, his tall frame looming over you. His eyes search yours, dark and uncertain and full of something that steals the breath from your lungs.
You should speak. You should say something, break the tension, make sure you’re both on the same page. But the words catch in your throat, because you want this. You want him.
And then he leans down, and your mouth meets his before you can think. The kiss is different this time. No hesitation, no testing. It’s deep and desperate, the kind of kiss that says I’ve been waiting for this longer than I can admit. His hands slide up your arms, cradling your face, his thumbs brushing your cheekbones with a tenderness that makes you ache.
You cling to him, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you. The world narrows to just the two of you, to the warmth of his body pressed against yours, to the way he sighs into your mouth like he’s finally letting go of something he’s been holding back.
When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, his breath uneven. His forehead drops against yours again, but this time his hands are trembling where they cradle your face.
"Are you sure?" he whispers, his voice rough.
The question triggers something in you, because it’s so him. Even now, even here, he’s giving you the choice. He’s always drawn the line, always kept you safe, even from himself. And for the first time, you push past it.
"Yes" you breathe, your voice steady despite the rush in your veins. "I’m sure. Soobin… I want this. I want you."
For a moment, he doesn’t move. His eyes search yours, looking for any flicker of doubt. And when he finds none, when he sees the certainty in your gaze, something inside him breaks.
His mouth is on yours again, fiercer this time, his hands sliding down to your waist as he presses you back into the mattress, his hips grinding against yours. You gasp into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his lips, and you swear you can feel the years of restraint unraveling in every movement, every touch.
The kiss deepens, turning messy and heated, as though he’s memorizing the taste of you. His hands trail over you with reverence, never rushing, never taking without asking.
"Good ?" He asks.
You nodded, though your mouth felt dry. "Yeah, just... nervous. In a good way."
He knelt in front of you, his large hands resting on your knees, thumbs tracing small circles over your skin through your thin pants.
"Me too" he admitted, his eyes meeting yours with raw honesty. "I've wanted this for so long, but I don't want to rush you."
You reached out, cupping his face, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palms. His cheeks flushed slightly, and you leaned in to kiss him. It was slow, his lips soft and tentative against yours, but as your fingers threaded into his hair, it deepened. His tongue slipped past your lips, and a low groan escaped him when you tugged lightly on his hair.
Soobin's hands slid up your thighs, gripping your hips, his body pressing flush against yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the subtle hardness growing in his pants brushing against your lower belly. It sent a thrill through you, a mix of excitement and nerves.
He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, sucking gently at the sensitive spot just below your ear. "Tell me if you want to stop" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Anytime."
"I don't" you whispered back, your voice breathy. "I want you."
That seemed to ignite something in him. His hands found the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly, his knuckles grazing your sides as he peeled it off. You raised your arms to help, and when it was gone, his eyes darkened as they roamed over your exposed skin, lingering on the lace of your bra.
"God, you're beautiful" he said, almost reverently.
You felt exposed, vulnerable, but the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in his world, made your confidence surge. You reached behind to unhook your bra, letting it fall away, and Soobin's breath hitched. His hands cupped your breasts immediately, thumbs brushing over your nipples, which hardened instantly under his touch. He leaned down, taking one into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the peak while his other hand kneaded the other.
A moan escaped you, your head falling back as pleasure sparked through your body. His mouth was hot, wet, and insistent, sucking and licking with a fervor that made your core ache. You arched into him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
"Soobin... that feels so good."
He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. Switching to the other breast, he gave it the same attention, his free hand sliding down to hook into the waistband of your pants. He tugged them down slowly, along with your panties, exposing you inch by inch. You got shy, now completely bare before him, and he straightened, his gaze hungry as it traveled down your body.
"Your turn" you said, your voice bolder than you felt. You grabbed his shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing his smooth chest, the toned abs that you'd only glimpsed before. He was lean but strong, muscles flexing under your touch as you ran your hands over him.
He kicked off his pants and boxers in one fluid motion, and your eyes widened at the sight of him. He was long and thick, the tip already glistening with pre-cum, veins prominent along his shaft. He was bigger than you'd imagined, and a flicker of apprehension mixed with your arousal.
He noticed, his expression softening. "We can take it slow" he assured you, stepping closer to wrap his arms around you. His erection pressed against your thigh, hot and hard, but he didn't push. Instead, he kissed you again, putting a pillow under your head.
He hovered over you, his weight supported on his elbows. His lips found yours once more, then moved down, kissing your collarbone, your sternum, down to your navel. He parted your thighs gently, settling between them, and you felt his breath fan over your core.
"Soobin..." you breathed, a mix of embarrassment and need.
He looked up at you, eyes locking with yours. "Can I taste you? Please?"
The plea in his voice made you melt. It was so him, your Soobin.
You nodded, and he didn't hesitate. His tongue flicked out, tracing a slow line along your folds, and you gasped at the sensation. He groaned at your taste, his tongue delving deeper, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked gently. His tongue circled the sensitive bud, then dipped lower, pushing inside you with shallow thrusts.
Your hips bucked involuntarily, pleasure building rapidly. "Oh fuck, Soobin... right there." One of his hands held your thigh open, the other sliding up to tease your entrance with a finger. He slipped it in slowly, your wetness making it glide easily, and curled it upward, hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
He added a second finger, stretching you gently, his mouth never leaving your clit. The dual sensation was overwhelming, his fingers pumping in and out, scissoring to prepare you, while his tongue lapped and sucked. You could feel the knot tightening in your belly, your breaths coming in short pants.
"I'm gonna... Soobin, I'm close..." you whimpered, your hand fisting in his hair.
He hummed in encouragement, increasing the pace, and it pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you, waves of ecstasy pulsing through your body as you clenched around his fingers. He worked you through it, his tongue gentle now, until you were trembling and oversensitive.
Pulling back, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He crawled up your body, kissing you deeply, and you tasted yourself on him, making you moan into his mouth.
"You taste amazing" he whispered, his voice rough with desire. His cock was pressed against your thigh, throbbing, and you reached down to wrap your hand around it. He hissed at the contact, his hips jerking forward. You stroked him slowly, feeling the smooth skin thumbing the slit to spread the pre-cum. He was so responsive, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he panted. "If you keep that up, I won't last."
You smiled, feeling empowered. "I want to make you feel good too, like you did for me."
He shook his head, kissing your neck. "Next time. Tonight's about us, together."
He reached over to his nightstand, pulling out a condom from the drawer. You watched as he tore it open with his teeth, rolling it down his length with ease.
"You had condoms in your drawer?" You ask.
"I mean, I kinda hoped we'd do this soon. And we don't plan on having kids yet."
He positioned himself between your legs, the tip pressing against your entrance.
"Ready?" he asked, his eyes searching yours.
"Yes" you whispered. "Please, Soobin."
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust. The stretch was intense, a delicious burn as he filled you completely. You gasped, nails digging into his back, and he stilled when he was fully seated, his hips flush against yours.
"Fuck, you're so tight" he groaned, his voice strained. "You feel incredible."
You nodded, breathing deeply, the fullness overwhelming but perfect. "Move, please."
He started with slow thrusts, pulling out almost entirely before sliding back in, each movement deliberate. The friction was exquisite, his cock dragging against your walls, hitting deep. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, and he picked up the pace.The room filled with the sounds of your bodies, skin slapping against skin, wet and rhythmic, mingled with your moans and his groans. He buried his face in your neck, sucking hickeys into your skin, his hands gripping your hips almost hard enough to bruise.
"Harder" you begged, and he obliged, slamming into you with more force. Each thrust sent jolts of pleasure through you, building toward another orgasm.
Soobin's control was slipping, his thrusts became erratic, deeper, his breath hot against your ear.
"I'm not gonna last much longer" he admitted, one hand moving between you to rub circles on your clit.
The added stimulation was too much. "Me neither...come with me."
A few more thrusts, and you shattered again, your walls clenching around him like a vice. He followed seconds later, groaning your name as he spilled into the condom, his hips stuttering as he rode out his release.
He collapsed beside you, both of you panting, sweaty and spent. After a moment, he disposed of the condom and pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead. "That was... amazing. Are you okay?"
You smiled, snuggling into his chest. "More than okay. That was perfect."
And in that quiet aftermath, wrapped up in him, you realize something certain: the marriage you once thought would only ever be duty and friendship has become something else entirely. Something real, something warm, something that feels like a home you never knew you were waiting for.
Soobin’s hand strokes down your back, his voice low but sure when he murmurs “We’ll be okay, you and me.”
And as you melt into him, heart light, you believe it.
Maybe this arranged marriage won’t be so bad after all, not when it’s him, not when it’s you, not when you have each other.
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ꨄ︎ warnings: use of 'soob boob', reader bullying soobin (s okay he's into it), princess treatment (soobin rec obv), soobmissive (lots mentioned), mentiones of soobin getting fucked, whimpering n whining, cursing, teasing, degradation, praise, boners, mean! reader (but not rly)
i'm still alive and well🙏🏼 i haven't posted in like a week, because of exams and i'm just soo tired and don't have any ideas of what to post, so i need requests and ideas, because my brain is fried and i can't think of anything anymore (i'm begging btw)😣😣
summary: you and your husband soobin have been married for a year, but your desire for each other hasn’t faded. in fact, it’s only grown more intense. from spontaneous office quickies to sensual public encounters, your love is as passionate as it is insatiable.
pairing: husband!soobin x wife fem!reader
genre: smut, pwp, romantic erotica, established marriage au.
warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, rough sex, oral, creampie, possessive behavior, riding, fingering, married couple dynamics, unrealistic libido (no mention of periods or pregnancy, this is pure fiction, not real-life sex ed) mutual obsession and desperate love vibes.
wc: 3,1k
notes: OMG! i just hit 1700 followers!! when did that even happen??? 🥹 thank you so much for all your love and support, i love you all endlessly 💌 you’re the reason i keep writing. i actually had this fic ready for a while, but i finally gave it a proper read-through so i could post it 🫠 husband!soobin is seriously the best concept ever… and him being a total perv too?? yes please 👅🔥
you never thought marriage would taste this sweet.
a year had passed since the two of you tied the knot, and not a single day had gone by without his hands on your skin, without your lips on his, without your body aching for him. most people said the passion would fade after the honeymoon, that routine would dull the fire, but it only seemed to burn hotter the longer you were together.
you weren’t just lovers. you were addicts. both of you.
it didn’t matter where you were or who was around—when the heat hit, you both found a way to release it. on the elevator to your apartment, pressed against the mirrored wall with soobin's hand covering your mouth to silence your moans. in the restroom of an upscale restaurant, your dress bunched up around your waist, legs trembling as he whispered filth into your ear while fucking you senseless against the sink. on your balcony at night, the wind carrying the scent of sex through the city, your knees bruising against the railing as he held you in place. at the beach, with the tide lapping at your ankles, his fingers inside you under the stars. in the backseat of your car, windows fogged up, your panties hanging from the rearview mirror by the time you were done. and then there was his office.
soobin was the editor-in-chief of one of the most renowned publishing houses in the country. prestigious, respected, calm under pressure. nobody would suspect that the man in that pristine tailored suit spent half of his lunch breaks buried between your thighs.
it always started the same way.
you’d text him something simple—are you free to eat together today?—and he’d reply with a time. never a word more than needed, not over messages. he liked it clean on the outside. so you’d walk into the lobby with your bag in one hand and a shy smile on your lips, nodding politely at the receptionist, who recognized you instantly. she’d give you that usual knowing glance, and you’d just giggle to yourself, acting like you weren’t about to get wrecked on the top floor.
his office was spacious, framed by tall windows and lined with bookshelves. his desk was always organized, the glass surface spotless—until you came in. the second he locked the door behind you, he turned into someone else entirely.
“took you long enough,” he murmured that day, voice thick with restraint as he pulled you in by the wrist.
“you said twelve-thirty,” you teased, your breath catching as he pressed you against the inside of the door, lips brushing your throat. “i’m right on time.”
“mm,” he hummed, dragging your coat from your shoulders with one hand, the other already slipping beneath your skirt. “that’s cute. thinking you get to play innocent.”
you gasped when his fingers met your bare heat, your thighs already sticky, aching, pulsing for him.
“no panties?” he chuckled darkly, dipping a finger between your folds. “what would the board say if they knew their editor’s wife walked into the building dripping like this?”
“they’d say it’s your fault,” you whispered, tilting your head to give him more access, already trembling when he started circling your clit slowly. “you make me like this.”
“that’s right,” he growled.
he dragged you away from the door, lifting you effortlessly onto his desk, scattering a few papers in the process. he shoved your skirt up to your hips, kneeling between your legs without hesitation. the cold glass pressed against your skin, contrasting the warmth of his breath as he kissed your inner thighs, teasing, licking, biting. then his tongue found your center, and you arched your back with a broken moan, one hand flying to grip the edge of the desk while the other threaded through his dark hair.
he always made you feel like this—unraveled, ruined, adored.
his tongue moved with practiced precision, licking you open as if you were his only purpose in life, savoring every twitch of your hips, every breathless cry. when your thighs started shaking, he pulled back just enough to whisper, “come on, baby. give it to me. i want to taste you.”
and you did. hard. moaning his name like a prayer, thighs clamping around his head as you came on his tongue.
he didn’t stop there.
before your body could recover, he stood up and unbuckled his belt with slow, deliberate movements, eyes locked on yours, filled with hunger. his cock was already hard, thick, leaking as he stroked it once, twice, while stepping closer. he didn’t ask. didn’t need to. you were already spreading your legs wider for him.
he slid into you in one smooth, deep thrust, swallowing your gasp with a kiss.
“fuck—” he breathed against your mouth, voice strained. “you’re so tight. always so good for me.”
you clung to him, arms around his neck, nails digging into his back through the fabric of his shirt. he fucked you slowly at first, savoring the way you clenched around him, the way you whimpered every time his hips rolled into yours. but it didn’t stay slow for long.
“you think i don’t know what you do?” he grunted, thrusting harder, faster, his desk creaking beneath the rhythm. “you walk in here all sweet and quiet, but you’re just begging to be used.”
“yes,” you cried, breathless. “yes, soobin—please, harder—”
he gave it to you.
his pace turned punishing, relentless, fucking you into the desk so hard you could barely think. you could hear your slickness every time he drove into you, could feel the tension coiling in your belly all over again, already close to a second climax.
he brought his hand between your bodies, rubbing tight circles on your clit until your vision blurred, until your moans echoed through the room.
“come for me again,” he ordered, jaw clenched. “want to feel you squeeze me while i fill you up.”
you came again, harder this time, your whole body convulsing around him as you sobbed his name, and seconds later, he buried himself deep and groaned as he spilled inside you, warm and thick, making you gasp at the sensation.
neither of you moved for a while.
his forehead rested against yours, both of you panting, still trembling from the high. he kissed you softly, this time slower, gentler, like the man everyone else knew.
“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered with a smile.
“you started it,” you replied, smiling back.
he chuckled, pulling out with a groan, helping you adjust your clothes before tucking himself back in and fixing his tie like nothing happened.
you straightened your skirt, kissed his cheek, and headed for the door.
“same time tomorrow?” you teased.
his eyes darkened.
“count on it.”
people would say it was just the honeymoon phase. a spark that would eventually die out.
“give it a few months,” they said. “you’ll settle down. you’ll calm down.” but they didn’t know you. they didn’t know soobin.
because a year into your marriage, the fire hadn’t dulled—it had grown. hotter. deeper. more desperate.
you craved him constantly, and he wanted you like he needed you to breathe. it didn’t matter how many times he’d had you the night before—when morning came, his hands were already wandering beneath the sheets. sometimes you barely made it out of bed before he was fucking you into the mattress, your sleepy moans muffled by the pillow as he thrusted into you from behind. and when breakfast was over, when the dishes were still in the sink, he’d pull you onto the kitchen counter and eat you out until your legs went numb, just because he missed the taste.
when you both came home from work, it didn’t matter how exhausted you were—he always kissed you like it was the first time, always touched you like he’d been starving all day. in the shower, you’d grind against each other under the hot water until one of you caved. on the couch after dinner, he’d have you straddling his lap, his hands under your shirt, his cock pressed between your thighs. even when you were both tucked into bed, skin warm and clean, he’d still reach for you in the dark, whispering soft, filthy things against your shoulder until you were whimpering for him again.
sometimes, in the middle of the night, you’d wake up to find his hand already between your legs, his mouth on your chest, his cock hard and ready against your hip.
but nothing compared to how needy he got when you dressed up.
you’d gone to dinner with his parents that evening. the restaurant was elegant, quiet, candle-lit. you wore a dress he hadn’t seen before—tight, black, hugging your body like it was made for you. it stopped just above the knee, a subtle slit climbing up one thigh. you knew the second he saw you walk out of the bedroom that you were in trouble.
he didn’t touch you during dinner. not once. but his eyes never left you. his hand stayed clenched on his thigh under the table, his jaw tense, his smile too tight whenever someone complimented the way you looked.
and the second you stepped out of the restaurant and slid into the backseat of the car, he lost it.
you barely had time to buckle your seatbelt before he reached over and unfastened it again.
“soobin?” you blinked at him, surprised.
he didn’t answer. just climbed over you, slammed the door shut, and pushed you back against the seat, his lips crashing into yours like he’d been holding it in for hours.
“fuck,” he hissed against your mouth, his hands already tugging your dress up your thighs. “you wore this on purpose, didn’t you?”
“i thought it looked pretty,” you breathed, gasping when his fingers found the edge of your panties and yanked them down without hesitation.
“you looked like a fucking dream,” he growled, kissing down your neck, biting your shoulder through the strap of your dress. “do you know how hard it was to sit across from you and pretend i wasn’t dying to fuck you under the table?”
you moaned when his fingers slipped between your legs, already coated in your arousal.
“you’re so wet already,” he muttered, rubbing slow, deliberate circles on your clit. “does dressing like that for me turn you on, baby?”
“yes,” you whimpered. “you looked so good in that suit, hubby. wanted to jump you the whole time.”
he groaned, cock twitching in his slacks at the sound of the word.
“say that again.”
you bit your lip, arching your hips into his hand. “my sexy husband. my baby. always so handsome.”
“fuck, baby, i’m gonna ruin you,” he grunted, already undoing his belt, freeing his cock with a breathless hiss.
he was hard, thick, leaking, and you couldn’t help but reach out and wrap your hand around him, stroking him slowly while he growled under his breath.
“that’s it, sweetheart,” he rasped, grabbing your wrist and guiding you down onto the seat. “turn around. get on your knees for me.”
you obeyed, heart pounding, body trembling with need. the soft leather dug into your skin as you leaned forward, dress bunched up around your waist, bare for him.
he gripped your hips and shoved into you in one swift, brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt and making you cry out.
“god—soobin—!”
“shhh,” he murmured, leaning over your back, pressing kisses to your spine. “you want them to hear, baby? the valet’s still outside.”
you whimpered, biting your fist to muffle your sounds, and he started moving—deep, rough thrusts that had the entire car rocking.
he held your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he fucked you harder, faster, his cock slamming into your sweet spot over and over until tears pricked the corners of your eyes.
“mine,” he growled. “my pretty wife. you love this, don’t you? love getting fucked like this by your husband. so desperate for my cock you couldn’t wait till we got home.”
“yes—yes, please—don’t stop—”
he reached around to rub your clit, fast and messy, and you broke with a cry, your whole body convulsing as your orgasm crashed over you.
but he didn’t stop.
“so fucking tight when you come,” he panted, slamming into you harder, chasing his own release. “gonna fill you up, baby. you want that?”
“yes, hubby—fill me up, please—need you—”
he groaned, buried himself deep, and spilled inside you with a shudder, hot and thick, making you tremble all over again.
you collapsed onto the seat, both of you panting, his cum already dripping down your thighs.
after a few moments, he kissed your lower back and helped you fix your dress, his hands gentle, voice softer now.
“you okay, baby?”
“never better,” you whispered with a lazy smile, reaching back to squeeze his hand. “think your parents noticed we left too fast?”
he laughed, pulling you into his lap for a kiss.
“they probably think we’re still in the honeymoon phase.”
you grinned against his lips.
“good. let them.”
you didn’t always mean to take it that far.
sometimes, the need just crept up slowly—starting with a brush of hands, a glance too long, the way his voice dropped when he leaned in to whisper in your ear. but with soobin, it was never just harmless teasing. not when the fire between you burned this deep, this fast, this endlessly.
the worst was when you were supposed to behave.
you were at a gallery opening, invited as a couple by one of soobin’s publishing partners. the space was sleek, minimalist, dimly lit with soft instrumental music echoing through the marble hallways. guests murmured about brushstrokes and contrast, sipping champagne, admiring modern pieces as if they understood them. you should’ve been focused. polite. engaged.
but all you could think about was the way soobin’s hand kept pressing low against your back, the way his lips brushed your temple every time he leaned in to comment on a piece, the way he looked in that black turtleneck and tailored slacks—quiet, elegant, composed. and the way his cock pressed against his thigh when he caught you watching him with that soft, hungry gaze of yours.
you lasted an hour. maybe less.
“you look stunning,” he murmured while you both stood in front of an abstract canvas, his fingers ghosting over the inside of your wrist.
“so do you,” you whispered back, stepping closer.
“i can’t stop thinking about the way you looked last night.”
“baby,” you warned in a low voice, heart fluttering.
“i can’t stop thinking about how tight you were. how you moaned for me.”
you swallowed, thighs clenching.
so when he found a quiet corridor tucked behind the private wing of the gallery, with large velvet curtains shielding the entrance and barely any foot traffic, you didn’t even hesitate when he took your hand and pulled you in with him.
the space was dark and unused, some storage room filled with rolled canvases and crates, dimly lit by a dusty lamp on a side table. you barely had time to glance around before he pulled you onto his lap on an old velvet loveseat, your dress riding up your thighs as he guided you to straddle him.
“here?” you breathed, heart racing, but already grinding against him.
he cupped your ass and pulled you down flush against his cock. “shh, just for a little. i promise i’ll be quiet if you will.”
you kissed him hard, needing him more than you cared to admit.
you fumbled with his belt, both of you breathless, frantic, silent laughter shaking your shoulders as you tried not to giggle while exposing him in the middle of the damn gallery. when you finally pulled him free, hard and hot in your hand, you didn’t hesitate. you lifted your hips, pushed your soaked panties aside, and sank down onto him in one smooth, aching motion.
you bit your lip hard to keep from gasping, forehead falling to his shoulder as you took him in completely, your walls stretching, pulsing, wrapping around him perfectly.
“god, baby,” he whispered, voice trembling. “you’re always so tight for me. always so wet.”
“i missed you,” you whispered back, starting to move slowly, your hands gripping his shoulders as you rolled your hips in slow, fluid waves. “i know it’s only been a few hours but… i missed you so much.”
his hands slid beneath your dress, gripping your waist, guiding your rhythm, helping you ride him deeper, slower, harder. every time you rocked down, you could feel his cock hit that spot that made you tremble, made your eyes flutter shut.
his head fell back against the wall as he watched you move—so beautiful, flushed, glowing under the low light. his perfect wife, riding his cock like it was her god-given purpose.
“fuck,” he whispered, jaw tight. “you’re gonna make me come so fast like this, baby. you feel too good.”
you leaned in, kissing his lips sweetly before whispering into his mouth, “then come with me. come inside me, love. fill me up. again.”
he groaned, desperate now, thrusting up into you as you bounced on his lap, your movements sloppy and fast, your moans barely restrained against his neck. you were close—so close—the tension in your belly winding tight, heat blooming between your legs as you chased your second high of the day.
and then he grabbed your face gently with one hand, the other still gripping your ass, and looked at you with that softness that always broke you.
“i’ll never get tired of you,” he whispered. “never. not your voice, not your body, not your mouth, not your moans. i’ll crave you forever, baby.”
you whined, overwhelmed, heart racing, body trembling.
“i love you,” you breathed. “you know that, right? i love you so much, soobin.”
“i love you more,” he said, and then you both broke at the same time—his warmth filling you deep as your walls clenched around him, your cries caught in the hollow of his throat, your nails raking down his back as you trembled in his arms.
you stayed there for a while, still joined, breathing each other in, hearts beating fast and in sync. you nuzzled into his neck as he stroked your back slowly, reverently, his softening cock still buried inside you.
and in that quiet little hidden room, beneath dim lights and forgotten paintings, you both made a silent vow without needing to speak it aloud:
to never tire of each other. to never stop touching, loving, needing. to crave, devour, and worship until your last breath.
because this love—this madness—wasn't just passion. it was eternity. and you were both so, so willing to burn in it forever.
summary : as your game night with the boys reached an unusual peak in boredom, huening kai suggests a few rounds of the pepero game to get the dopamine pumping. however, what kai didn't consider was the several-month long crush that you had on soobin, and what you didn't consider was the fact that soobin would choose you as his partner. at the end of the night, when the tension is suffocating you and your mind is swirling with "what-if's," soobin offers to give you a ride home. you accept, not realizing in the moment just how mutual that tension was.
pairing : choi soobin x fem!reader
genre: friends to lovers, mutual pining, non-idol au, smut, fluff
wc : 7.8k
warnings : pwp (like 50-50), unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f receiving), some pet names (baby, honey), multiple orgasms, creampie, both reader and soobin are really horny but especially soobin <3
a/n : i haven't written smut in literal years so this was purely driven by how whipped i am for choi soobin <3 inspired by txt playing the pepero game bc it's been on my mind ever since that vid dropped. never been so jealous in my life.
txt masterlist .
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“how about the pepero game?” kai suggested, earning varying kinds of stares from the group.
for the last ten minutes or so, you and the boys had been bickering in kai’s living room about which game was next to tackle on your game night list.
you had already exhausted all the games kai had on his switch, as well as almost half the board games he found tucked away under his bed. you were on a roll, and had no means of stopping quite yet; but there was no remaining game that anyone could agree was exciting enough to satisfy your boredom.
that was until kai piped up amongst the chatter, anyway. taehyun gave him a blatantly disgusted look, his brows furrowed and his eyes widened slightly, while yeonjun and beomgyu immediately jumped at the idea with loud agreements and wide smiles. they had gotten a few drinks in them by now, it was only a matter of time before they got reckless.
you, however, were nervous. the point of the pepero game was to make the stick as short as possible, but the real reason people played it was just to see how close two people could get to kissing. that wasn’t exactly what made you so nervous, the thought of a near-kiss actually didn’t phase you. you saw your relationship with the guys as entirely platonic, nothing more than friends – at least, for all but one of them.
a few months ago you started developing some sort of feelings for soobin, a tall, handsome, and sweet character, and it’s only been growing and festering ever since. it started with small fleeting moments of adoration, just letting your gaze linger for an extra second or smiling softly when he entered a room.
you realized you might have felt something real for him when you anxiously wanted to be around him, even though your heart would pound if you got too close. eventually he became all you could think about, your thoughts filled with fantasies of what it would be like to feel his embrace, his lips on yours. to feel his one of his large hands on your hips, the other wrapped so firmly around your neck.
god. that’s why you were nervous – even with the slimmest chance that the two of you would be paired together, what would you even do? how were you supposed to control yourself?
you laughed along with the guys for now, but your gaze quietly shifted over to soobin, sitting quietly on the other side of the room.
your heart jumped.
your eyes met, and neither of you looked away.
at first, you were just testing him; trying to figure out if it was just a coincidence or you had caught him staring. you got your answer when his dark eyes didn’t flinch when you looked at him, his expression calm and composed even though you felt like your heart was about to leap right out of your chest.
you could only take so much before you looked away, turning your attention back to the rest of the group in a daze. why was he already staring at you? why did he look so calm? what was he thinking?
“then who wants to go first?”
yeonjun’s voice grounded you in reality again, your mind suddenly coming back into focus. you didn’t even notice how the some guys had joined you on the floor, sitting in a circle, or how kai had opened a couple of boxes of pepero, keeping one for the game while dispersing the others.
“we’ll go first.”
your eyes immediately flicked to soobin at the sound of his voice, your heart sinking deep into your chest as your eyes met once again. he took on of the sticks from kai’s hands, slowly standing from the couch and making his approach.
he chose you.
the loud cheers and and laughter that came from the rest of the group was drowned out by the onslaught of thoughts that came flooding into your mind. half of you was convinced that he would make it quick, only opting to have you as a partner since you were close, and probably more bearable to work with than anyone else.
at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel that nervousness settle back in. what you thought was a slim chance of happening was now becoming a reality, and you already felt the heat rising into your cheeks before he was even within two feet of you.
as he knelt down in front of you, his eyes never left yours. his expression was still serious at first, until his eyes flicked down to your cheeks. the corners of his lips tugged up into a small smile, and immediately you knew you were caught. you silently prayed that the other guys were too drunk to notice your embarrassed flush, too.
soobin lifted the stick in his hand to your mouth, his smile widening.
“here, take it.”
your heart fluttered, eyes never looking away from him as you silently obeyed. his hands reached out to gently grip your shoulders, his warm hands sliding ever so subtly up the sleeves of your t-shirt so that he was touching your skin.
“just go already. your score is gonna get beat anyway.” yeonjun chirped, but you were far to enveloped in soobin’s gaze to listen.
“i wanna take this seriously, actually. do you think i’m playing to lose?” soobin looked away from a moment, shooting a grin towards yeonjun before immediately turning back to you.
before anyone else could complain, soobin turned his head and slowly started biting down on the stick you were holding so tensely between your teeth, not being able to stop yourself from squeezing your eyes shut. you wished for something like this, maybe even dreamt about it.
his face mere centimeters away, large hands holding you still as he drew his lips closer to yours; but you didn’t want this. you wanted to be alone, to have him to yourself. you didn’t want anyone else to see how easily you lost yourself in his touch.
you felt the weight between your teeth become lighter and lighter, your heart pounding at the thought of just how close soobin would already be if you opened your eyes. but you kept them shut, hands clasped tightly in your lap as you desperately wished that you two were alone. you wished that he could stop being so polite and proper for the sake of the game, your desperation only getting worse as you felt soobin’s hot breath against your lips.
you thought maybe he would really do it, maybe he would close the distance and secretly wanted the same thing you did.
but you were sorely disappointed when his breath disappeared and he pulled away, your eyes opening wide as soon as he did. you watched as soobin held up the stick to the ruler in yeonjun’s hands, a proud expression washing over his features as he turned back towards you, hand shooting into the air.
“1.2 centimeters. not bad, right?” he beamed.
you agreed, suddenly breathless.
did he have any idea what he did to you?
that question haunted you for the rest of the night as the boys satisfied their dopamine craving with a couple more rounds of the pepero game, followed by a couple more rounds of drinks between yeonjun and beomgyu. it was only when they started getting out of hand that kai cut the night short, fearing for the cleanliness of his apartment, taehyun taking on the burden of driving them both home.
with taehyun now in charge of babysitting two drunk men and kai busy cleaning up the mess they left behind, you figured the best plan of action was just to call a taxi. you didn’t live far, so whatever the fee was wouldn’t be too much of a hassle to pay. as you stepped out of kai’s apartment building and into the street, however, a tall, familiar figure waited for you.
“y/n- you’re not actually gonna call a taxi, are you?” soobin’s eyes watched you carefully as they landed on you. the way you perceived those eyes, the way the looked at you and met yours so carefully, was utterly distorted now. all you could think of now when he looked at you was the way he stared you down earlier that night, holding the stick to your lips and shamelessly asking you to just take it.
“it’s no big deal, it’s not like i have to go that far.” even though you didn’t want to, you tore your eyes away from soobin, eyes searching the city streets instead.
“there’s not many drivers around at this hour, though. it’s cold, and it’s getting late.” you could feel soobin still watching you, the sound of his car keys jingling filling the otherwise quiet air.
“let me drive you home.”
you didn’t make any snappy movements. you didn’t flinch or flick your head up at the sound of his words. you just stared blankly at the other end of the street as your heart fluttered, head slowly turning up to finally look at him again.
“you don’t have to, really. you live in the other direction, anyway-”
“please. i insist.”
there was something different about the tone of his voice. something spilled out, something that was overflowing and threatening to unravel, even though he seemed to be doing such a good job with keeping it in check.
or maybe your delusions were getting the better of you. maybe your feelings for him were twisting reality, and you were starting to ignore the facts just to believe what you wanted.
logic was telling you that soobin had given you a ride home several times in the past, and this was just him worrying about you as your friend – but your feelings were telling you that this was a chance you couldn’t pass up.
“okay, okay.” you smiled, following him to his car. “let’s go.”
the first few minutes of the car ride were silent. not uncomfortably so, but part of you still felt tense, somehow. there was an inkling of a thought pacing back and forth in your head, making you wonder as you glanced over at soobin.
god, he was beautiful. the slight curve of his nose, his pouty lips, the pale glow on his skin. the way his jacket accentuated his shoulders, the way his hand so leisurely held the bottom of the steering wheel. if you focused hard enough, you could smell the faint scent of his cologne spreading through the air, filling your lungs and clouding your senses.
you wondered: were you really imagining things, or did he feel it too?
“i didn’t make you uncomfortable, did i?” soobin asked, glancing briefly at you. “during the pepero game.”
“no, not at all.” your mouth went a bit dry as you spoke, the question catching you off guard. “why do you ask?”
“you just seemed so tense. your cheeks were flushed and you were gripping your hands so tight your knuckles turned white. you know, you could’ve said no if you didn’t want to do it.” he chuckled lightly, but there was a sense of worry evident in his voice.
“oh, that?” you looked back out the window, mentally scolding yourself for making yourself so obvious. the worst part is that he interpreted your tension in the complete opposite way – you wanted it. in fact, you didn’t get nearly enough of it. if only the other guys weren’t watching it all happen, maybe you could have made that clearer.
“sorry, if that’s how it came across.” regaining your composure, you looked back over at soobin. “i was just nervous, that’s all. it kind of awkward doing that while everyone was watching, don’t you think?”
soobin grinned, letting out another light laugh, “definitely. but it was kind of fun, wasn’t it?”
you smiled to yourself, but couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread settle in your stomach. the way he talked about it was so casual, as if his breath against your lips and his hands so carefully holding your frame was a normal occurrence – but it wasn’t normal, not to you. didn’t he see that? didn’t he notice how hot he made you feel?
“soobin.” his name slipped out from your lips before you could even stop it. there was so much you wanted to say, and all the words you had been working so hard on keeping under wraps were threatening to burst right then and there.
he hummed in response, and from the corner of your eye you could see him periodically glancing over at you. he was waiting for you, like he was asking you to continue, and for some reason you wanted nothing more but to make it happen for him. you submit, each and every one of your secret thoughts beginning to spill out one by one, his gaze making you too weak to stop it.
“i was nervous, and it was because everyone was watching,” you paused, trying to swallow the dryness in your throat, “but i.. i wanted it, you know. i wanted to kiss you.”
the couple of seconds of silence that followed your words seemed to stretch out for hours. you could’ve sworn that you felt the air in the car shift, turning tense and heavy, the weight of it nearly suffocating you. your mouth opened as you rushed to reverse the damage, but the words died in your throat as soobin spoke up first.
“really?” he asked, though there was a certain softness to his words. there was a smile in his tone, and as you looked over at him, you could see how the corners of his mouth seemed to lift after your confession. it made your head spin.
“well-” originally, you were going to take it all back, snatch your words right out of the air and bury them somewhere not even you would remember; but that damn smile of his was urging you to keep going. “yeah, really. and you seemed so competitive that i thought maybe you would really do it, even if it was just for the game. but you pulled back last second.”
a few more seconds of silence, then soobin spoke again, “the guys wouldn’t have stopped talking about it if we did. i couldn’t do that to you.” he chuckled, and so did you. he had a point.
“but i was nervous, too. i think that’s why i ended up pulling back, it felt like my chest would explode if i didn’t. but i wanted it, too.”
..he wanted it, too?
the subtle beat of your heart started to pump harder within your chest, so excited by the mere words soobin was speaking that it flipped and turned every which way. your eyes didn’t turn away from him; they watched and studied his expression, and that’s when you caught it.
the pale red shade that rose into his cheeks, making him adjust himself in his seat and nervously fiddle with the steering wheel. he was just as nervous as you were.
your voice softened as you carefully tread the conversation, fearing that one wrong choice of words could shatter all the progress you’ve made.
“do you still want it?”
your eyes locked for a second, only a second, but that was enough to get a glance into him. you saw the way his eyes widened every so slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to ask such a question. but with the way that rosey flush spread into his ears, his mouth shifting as he bit the inside of his cheek, you could tell he liked it.
the car came to a slow as soobin skillfully pulled in front of your apartment building, one hand pulling off the wheel to put the car in park. finally, he looked over at you properly. the nearby streetlight shone through the windshield, illuminating his features perfectly. you could finally look into his eyes again, watching his gaze soften and seem to sparkle slightly in the light.
“even if i say yes, how will i get it?”
his question made your heart skip a beat. there was a shift in his tone; it became a bit curious, a bit suggestive. his eyes glanced between your eyes and your lips, and he didn’t seem even slightly ashamed when you caught him. you even noticed how he seemed to lean in just a bit closer, the scent of his cologne stronger. he wanted a certain answer from you, even if he didn’t say it.
and you were going to give it to him.
“can you stay for a bit?”
the walk to your apartment floor felt like it lasted hours, the thick tension between you two palpable. you weren’t rushing to leave the elevator or to grab your keys out of your bag to unlock your door, even though you felt like that was more appropriate than slowly and silently strolling through the hallways.
it was starting to drive you crazy – but then again, you would rather do this than do anything rash. what if he pushed back, what if he was scared away?
you pushed open the door to your apartment, soobin hovering behind you as you slid off your shoes and shrugged your coat off your shoulders. that was until, suddenly, your coat was properly lifted off your frame, your head spinning around to see soobin had taken it in his hands. he hung it on the hooks you had near your door, next to his.
but he never looked away from you. he looked at you in a similar way to earlier, in a way that nearly made your legs buckle beneath you. slowly, he approached you. your head gradually tilted up to meet his eyes, as his tilted down to meet yours.
one of his hands gently took hold of your shoulder, and you wondered if he could feel the goosebumps on your skin as he traced down your arm. he took your hand in his, while his other hand reached up to your face, gently cupping your cheek. he held you so gently, as if holding you too tightly would shatter your skin.
“is this okay?” his voice whispered into the dark, silent air. you nodded, and in response his face slowly started to draw closer to yours. unlike earlier, you didn’t close your eyes. your muscles didn’t tense and you didn’t squeeze your hands into tight fists. you watched him come closer and closer, until he stopped mere centimeters away from your face.
“this is where i stopped, during the game.” you could see a small smile grow over his features, as if he was proud. “you really want this?”
you chuckled at the fact he was even asking you that. you could feel his hot breath against your lips. the scent of his cologne flooded your senses, clouding your thoughts and dizzying your mind. you felt extra sensitive to his touch, even the slightest movement from him sending a chill down your spine. he was driving you crazy, and he didn’t even know it. that’s what made his question so ridiculous.
“more than anything.” you whispered, and his smile widened. he must have been playing with you, or he wouldn’t have looked so smug as he closed the gap between the two of you.
the feeling of his lips pressing against yours was like a sweet release, a weight being lifted off of your chest. you had wanted this for months, although they felt like years, and it was beyond anything you could have possibly imagined.
the taste of his lips was sweet, intoxicating you and getting you hooked on the flavor. he felt soft, almost fragile. he kissed you carefully, memorizing the way your lips danced and paying close attention when the rhythm changed. he leaned deeper into you, and you leaned back. your tongue grazed his teeth, and he granted you permission to enter.
without quite realizing it, the small entryway of your apartment became hot with the warmth radiating from your bodies. you felt it in your face, where soobin’s hands were touching, and especially where you wished he was touching.
the gentle kiss you two started with devolved into something hungry. needy. the hand soobin had been using to so carefully hold your face was now on the small of your back, pulling you close until there was no distance left between you.
your hands reached up from where they had been resting on soobin’s chest to instead tangle themselves in his hair. he kept leaning into you until you had no choice but to stumble back against your wall, and for a moment he pulled away. his hands moving to snake down your sides until they hooked under your thighs, lifting you up so effortlessly it sent a wave of heat straight to your core.
“where’s your room?”
his question practically knocked the wind out of you as you breathlessly answered:
“door on your right- there.”
you pointed to the door just ahead of your entry way, soobin following where your finger guided him. as he shoved the already ajar door completely open with his shoulder, he continued pressing deep kisses into your lips, the breathing between you two getting heavy and ragged.
within seconds you were being laid down onto your sheets, one of soobin’s hands supporting your back as the other pressed into the mattress, caging you in. you were waiting for him to lean down and allow you to intoxicate yourself with the taste of his lips, but for a few moments, he didn’t move. he merely hovered over you with half-lidded eyes and his pouty lips agape, waiting for something to say.
“i wanna do more than just kiss you, y/n. i want so much more..” he confessed, butterflies swirling in your stomach at his words. you knew by the lustful glint in his eyes that his intentions were sinful, naughty; but the way he spoke so softly felt so pure.
you almost felt giddy – if only that giddiness wasn’t being so loudly overtaken by a burning desire.
“i won’t stop you.” you whispered, your arms snaking around his neck as your hands found their way back his tousled hair, “i want it, soobin. i want you.”
it was only after your words that a switch seemed to flip in him, like the mutual desire between you too was finally understood. he let out a shaky exhale and dived into you, placing a kiss onto your jaw before latching onto your neck. you gasped at the sensation of sweet, gentle kisses being pressed into your skin, your neck craning to give him more space to work with.
“you smell so sweet.” he muttered between kisses, making you smile, “it’s driving me crazy.”
as soobin nipped at your neck, you did something you had been waiting so long to do: just touch him. your hands left his hair as they traced down his chest, sneakily making their way down to his waist. he was wearing a white, perfectly loose t-shirt, which gave you the perfect opportunity to slip your hands under the fabric, the ghostly touch of your fingertips barely grazing his skin. you felt him shiver, catching him gasp right beneath your ear.
but your movements didn’t stop him as his kisses got rougher, hungrier. devolving from soft and sweet pecks into starved sucking as he marked the space below your collarbone.
one of his hands slid down your waist, taking hold of the hem of your shirt and pulling it up.he pulled back, letting out a heavy breath as he pressed kisses on your chest, then your ribs, then your stomach – you were almost sure he would have been able to feel your heart pounding through his lips.
“soobin..” you mewled as you watched him lean back, eyes trained on your center as his fingers traced the waistline of your jeans.
you watched him undo the buttons and hook his thumbs around the waistline, pulling down your jeans in one single movement. his hands every so slightly pushed your thighs up, encouraging you to spread them open. you obeyed, although your cheeks burned with embarrassment at just the thought of how soaked you probably were.
“oh my god..” he practically groaned at the sight of you, his fingers laying flat against your pussy and sliding up. you whimpered in response, shocked at just how sensitive you felt to his touch. his eyes flicked up to you.
“you have no idea how bad i wanted this, baby.” his voice shifted into a husky tone as his body moved down, getting a pathetic whimper out of you. his arms hooked around your thighs as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, firm and decisive. his expression was almost desperate, his eyebrows turned up and his cheeks flushed, as if he was on his knees to start begging you for pleasure. it made your head spin.
as his hands grabbed and pulled at the hem of your panties, carefully yet quickly taking them off and discarding them, your legs practically shook with need. his hands held your thighs and spread you open, exposing you fully to him. mildly embarrassed, you turned away, averting your eyes from the lewd scene beneath you.
it was then you felt the warm, wet sensation of soobin’s tongue lick your slit from the bottom up, ending with a small peck against your sensitive clit. you breathed out a moan, your hands reaching up and taking hold of your sheets, as if to prepare for what was to come.
“eyes on me, honey.” he requested, and without even thinking you looked back at him, completely forgetting the bashfulness that overtook you a second ago. you nearly gasped at the view beneath you, how soobin’s gaze was wide and doe-eyed, staring so sweetly at you from between your thighs.
“there you go. want you to watch me, okay?” those words and the hint of his smile was enough to make you cum right then and there, but the dream of that was quickly cut off as soobin dove into you.
he tried to be patient, he really did. he started with shy licks and kisses, like he did on your neck, but it barely lasted a minute before he was sloppily lapping at your pussy. it was like he was thirsty for it, the way he thrusted his tongue between your folds and sucked at your clit.
“s-soobin, oh my god- fuck-“ you quickly unraveled into a moaning mess, knuckles turning white as you gripped the sheets and desperately tried to keep yourself still — but it was no use. you were squirming in his grasp, your hips shyly bucking into his face as the knot inside of you grew tighter.
“god- just like that, y/n. don’t stop.” soobin groaned into your cunt, as if he was getting off on it just as much as you were. using the brief moment of separation, two of his fingers brushed against your entrance before slowly sliding their way in. you both moaned at the sensation.
“you’re so tight-“ he practically whimpered, fingers thrusting at a steady pace right into a spot that made your back arch. “are you close, huh? you wanna cum all over my fingers, baby? can you do that for me?”
his senseless rambling into your cunt on in between his tongue lapping at your clit on top of his fingers keeping you full was making you see stars. this deep, burning desire that you had for soobin had been festering for so long, and the fact that it was finally being fulfilled was almost too much for you to handle. but even as your legs shook and you moaned shamelessly into the air, you wanted more. you needed more.
“i-i need-“ you gasped between your moans, your noise barely covering the sound of soobin sucking at your dripping cunt. your hips were moving completely on their own now, shame flying out the window as you slid up and down soobin’s tongue, “s-soobin, i’m gonna-“
“give it to me,” his groans sent vibrations up your body, making you tremble, “let it go baby, please. just give it to me.”
as if on command, the tight knot that had been stretching thin within your stomach snapped at his words, a blinding euphoria completely washing over your body. every limb, every muscle of yours shook with overwhelming pleasure, your entrance desperately tightening around soobin’s fingers as they slowed. he worked you carefully through your orgasm, pulling his mouth away to rub gentle circles on your clit.
“holy shit-” you breathed out, breathless as your eyes, previously squeezed shut, carefully opened. your vision gradually came into focus as a lightheadedness settled into your skull. you felt weak, your body limp against the mattress as you realized the sudden cramping in your fingers from so tightly holding onto your sheets. you had never experienced anything like that before.
but even as the orgasm soobin gave you with nothing but his mouth and fingers left you utterly stunned, your fantasies about him never stopped at foreplay. you needed more – and not only did you know it, but you could feel it.
the second soobin’s fingers carefully left your entrance, it was already begging for them to come back. it clasped and twitched around nothing, burning and pleading as it longed to be filled again. to be filled by him.
“god- i can’t wait-”
you gathered the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows as you looked down at where soobin had been kneeling, only to find he was already up on his feet. you felt a heat rush down your spine and fester at your core at the sight of him.
“you have no idea how bad i need you-” his words came out in breaths, “d’you even know how hot that was?”
he had already taken his t-shirt off, the subtle definition of his body practically glowing in the dim moonlight. his hands, still stained with your slick, anxiously fiddled with the buttons of his jeans before undoing them. even through the tight material of his jeans, there was an extremely evident tent in the fabric.
you felt your breath catch in your throat as he pulled down both his jeans and his boxers in one swift movement, his long, thick erection springing free.
soobin climbed onto the bed and resumed his position where he hung over you before, one hand by your side while the other slowly pumped his cock. you couldn’t help but watch as his thumb circled his flushed tip, barely able to catch the glisten of the pre-cum that he spread over the top of his shaft.
but the sight of his face made you just as hot. you met his eyes, and in an instant you recognized that you were seeing a completely different side of soobin. his face was flushed, eyes drowsy and half-open as if he was in a trance. soft pants escaped his open mouth every so often, his lips wet with a mix of your juices and his saliva.
he was needy. just as needy as you.
“do you have any condoms? where are they?” the words rushed out of his mouth, like anything that wasn’t fucking you was just a waste of time. you would have laughed if your mind wasn’t so overridden by desire.
“just forget that-” your tone hinted at a whine as your hips wiggled beneath him, your legs moving up to loosely wrap around his waist. you barely pulled him in, but you could already feel the tip of his cock brushing against your clit. you shivered at the sensation.
“wait, y/n, are you-”
“it’s okay, i promise,” you felt your heart pound in your chest, your core tighten and squeeze. your hands moved up into his hair again, your hands tangling in his locks. “just put it in binnie, please? i can’t wait either..”
although he looked like he had something he wanted to say, his hips responded first. he pushed his length against the lips of your pussy, not to enter, but just to slide up and down the wetness of it. you whimpered at the action, a combination of both impatience and sensitivity from your orgasm making you dizzy with need.
“i’m not gonna go slow. i can’t.” he said, the words phrased as a rule. a non-negotiable. “you okay with me being rough? sure you can take it?”
you rapidly nodded, biting back the pathetic sounds you so desperately wanted to make at the feeling of his length against your heat.
“tell me, baby.” he whined, “can you take it?”
your throat went dry.
“yes,” you breathed, “i can take it.”
a dazed, lazy smile spread over his features.
soobin leaned back, his large hands sliding up the back of your thighs as he spread you open wider, his eyes glued to where the two of you met. his brows furrowed and his mouth let out soft breaths as he slid over your clit just a couple more times, before pushing firmly into the heat of your entrance.
you moan in unison as just a portion of your desires are finally met, and you swear for a moment you saw stars. you could feel how tight you were around him, the massive size of him making you unbelievably full.
“fuck..” soobin let out a drawn out moan as he bottomed out inside of you, fingers pressing deep into the soft skin of your thighs. he already started to grind into you, your walls sucking him in each time he dared pull back.
“you don’t know how bad i wanted this, y/n..” he said, your heart jumping at his words. for just a moment, you debated what he said. you were shocked at the implication that he wanted this for longer than just a moment, making you wonder just how long the two of you waited before satiating a now mutual hunger.
but you couldn’t think about that too deeply yet – not when you could barely speak, let alone think about anything else but the delicious feeling of soobin steadily pounding into your burning cunt. not when the only thing that left your mouth was high-pitched moans and needy whines, occasionally interrupted by whispered swears.
you had been waiting for, dreaming, of this moment, and you were going to lavish in it.
the steady pace that soobin started at rapidly devolved into fast, desperate movements. his hips would pull almost all the way back, leaving you with nothing but the head of his cock before slamming right back into you.
he moved at a relentless pace, the lewd, merciless sound of skin slapping against skin leaving no room in the air for silence. the only thing competing with its volume was the sound of your own moans, shameless and explicit.
and amidst it all, soobin’s eyes never left yours, his head tilted to the side as he watched you fall apart beneath him. watching as your hands reached out and pawed at the skin of his arms, studying how your eyes briefly rolled back every time he hit the sweetest part of you; but, strangely, it didn’t feel like you were just being observed. you were being admired. idolized. worshipped.
“you look so pretty like this.” soobin cooed breathlessly, “so so pretty.. and so wet for me- so wet and so fucking tight-“
“soobin-“ all you could think to do was cry out his name in response. while you both seemed utterly drunk on the feeling of each other, soobin had been mindlessly rambling ever since he got the chance to touch you, while you couldn’t put together a proper sentence for the life of you.
it felt so good, almost too good, as tears stung the corners of your eyes and that euphoric tension tightened inside of you again with a vengeance. it didn’t help that all the words you tried to say to convey that message only came spewing out as fucked-out nonsense.
“you okay, baby? not too much for you, right?” soobin suddenly asked, a hint of concern in his voice despite the reckless speed of his hips slamming against yours. it didn’t seem like he could stop, even if he wanted to.
you anxiously shook your head. “n-no, please, don’t stop-“ you managed to choke out, your fingers wrapping around his forearms and tugging him towards you. he understood, leaning down and pushing your knees close to your chest with his arms in order to close the gap between the two of you.
the new angle made you see stars, and if soobin hadn’t pressed his lips passionately into yours, you knew it would have enough to rip a cry out of you.
he shoved his tongue between your lips as he rushed to get a taste of you, the quiet murmur of your mutual moaning getting muffled by it. you surrendered completely to him, letting him bite at your lips and tangle his hands into your hair.
although you succumbed to him, however, your entire body remained tense. every muscle in your body squeezed tight, especially where it was wrapped around soobin’s length. your moans became more high-pitched and whiny, your breaths in-between more ragged. your hands had found their place on soobin’s back, desperately clawing and dragging against his skin.
“i-i’m gonna fucking cum, soobin-” you mewled as soobin pulled back, resuming his previous position to tower over you, your legs spread open so obediently for him. “don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop- please don’t stop-”
your hurried blabber only encouraged soobin, each one of his thrusts hitting the deepest parts of you with a fiery passion. each one told you that nothing would be better than this. that you were ruined for any other man. that you were his.
“go ahead, baby, ‘s okay..” he said, speaking with a softness, “let me see you fall apart all over me.”
at his request, your second orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train. it was twice as intense, euphoria repeatedly striking you directly at your core before sending shockwaves down your body. you threw your head back into the pillows, stars scattered across your vision as a lewd, pornographic moan ripped from your throat. the sensation of your orgasm rippled around soobin’s cock, forcing him to breath out a drawn out moan and string of whispered curses.
“just like that, honey,” soobin’s moaned from over you, “so good.. so, so good..”
while the orgasm itself hit you twice as hard, it felt like the aftermath exhausted you ten times as much. you couldn’t control the way your legs shook in soobin’s grasp, or the way your chest steadily rose and fell in an attempt to catch your breath.
but coming down from such a high proved impossible as soobin continued to hammer into you, his pace only slowing when your orgasm made it too difficult to move.
“s-soo.. bin- wait- ‘s too much!” you cried out to him, watching through the blurry lens of your vision as he so mercilessly pounded your sensitive cunt.
“i know baby, i know..” he panted, “‘m sorry, i can’t stop- til your pussy’s stuffed full, i can’t stop-”
you were so spent already. every inch of your skin was covered in a thin film of sweat, your heart thundered relentlessly in your chest, and there was a thick scent of sex filling the air of your room. your legs felt so limp that you could barely feel them at all, the sweet sting of where soobin had dug his fingers into being the only reminder. and your head – you could have sworn that you were dreaming based on how lightheaded the rapid sense of overstimulation made you.
but, despite that, you didn’t dare stop him. you didn’t push him away or beg for a break – you laid there and took it. you let tears gather in your eyes, overstimulation wracking your body as your limbs quivered and pussy ached around soobin’s cock.
your hands found their place in your sheets once more, tightening and gripping onto the fabric as if it was somehow going to save you. and your voice, raw and ruined, knew nothing but the feeling of soobin’s name being ripped from your throat.
and he fucking loved it.
“you’re so hot, y/n, so fucking beautiful. d’you even know what you do to me? how long i wanted to pound your pretty pussy like this?” as soobin rambled on, his voice gradually became more out of breath, more desperate. his moans became whiny, high-pitched.
“needed you so bad it was driving me crazy- but you needed it too, huh, baby? did’ya wanna get pounded like this?”
his words made your head spin, a fresh wave of desire washing over your body and sending heat rushing to all the right places. he loved how he took you apart piece by piece, and you loved seeing how drunk he got on it.
“i-i needed it so bad, you have no f- fucking idea-” you cried, “it f-feels so good-”
his thrusts started to get sloppy, losing the ruthless rhythm he had started with. he fell to his elbows, his hands snaking up your arms and peeling your fingers away from the bedsheets. his hands intertwined with yours, holding your shaking frame against the mattress.
“y/n-” soobin’s lips hovered over yours, barely able to feel his hot breath against your skin, “lemme fill you up, huh? you want it? want me to fill you up nice ‘n full?”
“p-please- give it to me, binnie. want your cum-”
as if your permission was the trigger, soobin only lasted a few more thrusts before he bottomed out inside you with a high-pitched groan, the feeling of his warm seed instantly settling into your core. the feeling of it, however, was just as much of a trigger for you, your third orgasm of the night hitting you before you could even prepare for it – and all you could do was lay there and let it.
you pressed the knuckles of soobin’s hand – which were still intertwined with yours – against your lips, barely containing any of your pathetic whimpers and moans that your ruined orgasm forced out of you. your legs squeezed around soobin’s waist in an attempt to keep still, but there was no use against the sensitivity that overtook your body.
soobin, who had buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathed out a string of soft yet forceful moans, his stilled cock still twitching within your sensitive walls. every now and then his body shook, waves of pleasure shocking his body almost perfectly in sync with you, your orgasm no doubt heightening his own.
for a few moments, the two of you laid there; breathless, sensitive, unmoving. the silence that followed one of the loudest nights of your life was one of comfort. it wasn’t weird or awkward, like you almost expected it to be, but relaxing. like you finally felt a sense of relief after the past several months of undisturbed tension.
but the stillness of the room only lasted so long, soobin being the first to move. with a sharp wince he slowly pulled out of you, his cock carefully dragging through the walls of your throbbing pussy. even as spent as you were, you missed the full feeling.
he lifted his head up, but only enough to look you in the eyes again. he studied you carefully, his gaze scanning over every detail of your expression until you realized the way it made your heart pound. his hand reached up, and you didn’t dare move as his fingers so gently brushed some sweat-soaked strands of hair out of your face.
“i meant what i said. you’re so beautiful.” he said, his voice suddenly lowered to a whisper.
you laughed at his words, your voice coming out hoarse. “really?”
“really. seriously.”
you swallowed down the dry feeling in your throat, carefully picking out the words for a question you dreaded.
“did you mean it when you said you wanted me, too? when you said how long you wanted me for?” your voice shrank, “or did you just want sex?”
the question clearly caught soobin off guard as his eyes widened, the hand still intertwined with yours tightening slightly.
“what? y/n, are you serious?” a light chuckle escaped his lips, but he knew by reading your expression that the question was genuine. his free hand reached up and cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin.
“i like you. and it’s for so many more reasons other than sex.” he confessed carefully, “for so long i wanted you all to myself – and i mean it, when i say it.”
you felt butterflies swarm your stomach at his words, unable to hide the smile that spread over your features. you lean into the touch of his hand, partially hiding your face in it at the sudden shyness that came over you.
but in response, soobin turned your face to look right back at him, emphasizing the impact of his words with yet another kiss. this one was similar to the way the night started, with soft presses and sweet touches. you felt him smile into the kiss, and you smiled back, a powerful wave of sheer joy swelling in your chest. you felt complete.
soobin’s gentle smile beamed down at you as he pulled back, shy giggles being shared between the two of you.
“so.. does this make us official?” you asked bashfully, to which soobin responded with the soft drag of his hand, his fingers tracing down your chest and to your waist.
“well i’d hope so.” he grinned, moving to press a kiss onto your neck, “no way am i letting you go to anyone else. you’re all mine.”
as soobin enveloped you in his touch, his arms pulling back to snake around your waist and pull you into a warm embrace, he moved to lay on his side, properly able to pull you into his chest. your arms wrapped around his neck, your hands rubbing gentle circles onto the marks you left in his back earlier, and you could feel him relax just as much.
“i thought it was a stupid idea at first, but it’s good kai picked the pepero game, huh?” soobin muttered against your shoulder.
you grinned, “yeah, but it was only a matter of time until i got you to myself. i would’ve gone crazy if i didn’t.”
soobin chuckled into your skin, pressing on another kiss, “me too.”
within moments, as if you two had been doing it all your lives, you settled into each others warmth. an intimate silence filled the air as you laid there, the tense centimeters of distance that you had dealt with just hours ago finally being absolved into nothing.
god- if you had known then that this was how a round of the pepero game would end, you would’ve played it way sooner.
