#soobin imagines

taglist: @pageraf , @nota10butadefinite8 , @komigyu , @txtworlddom , @bluepains , @tubatuxx

Soobin sat beside you, one leg bent, one dangling over the edge, as relaxed as if this rooftop were just another couch in his apartment. The faint orange from the small, flickering rooftop light painted gentle shadows along his jaw, softening his features even more. He swirled the drink in his hand, the clink of ice against glass punctuating the silence between your words.

“Sometimes it feels like everything is some kind of sick joke,” you said suddenly, staring out at the skyline. “Like… I’m doing everything I’m supposed to, and life just keeps finding new ways to prove I don’t deserve any of it anyway.”

Soobin huffed a quiet laugh, one that wasn’t really amused. “Feels unfair?”

“That’s an understatement,” you murmured. “It feels like I’m being punished for something I don’t remember doing. Like I missed a memo somewhere.”

He didn’t respond right away, just tilted his head back, looking up at the murky sky. The breeze ruffled his hair, and for a moment, you envied how effortlessly calm he always seemed.

You took another sip of your drink, letting the alcohol burn its way down your throat, hoping it would burn away the heaviness in your chest too.

“I keep thinking,” you went on, voice softer now, “that nobody really cares about me. Not really.” You paused, then corrected yourself. “I mean, my family does. But that’s… different. It’s like they’re obligated to. They love me because they’re supposed to. It doesn’t feel like something I earned. It just… is.”

You swallowed, eyes tracing the antennae on a nearby building, the blinking red light that marked its tip.

“I miss the feeling of knowing someone cares because they want to. Because they decided I was worth it. Because they chose me. Not because blood or history or guilt said they had to.”

The words left your mouth and drifted into the air between you both, fragile and raw. You weren’t even sure what you expected him to say in response. Maybe nothing. Maybe just that familiar, quiet presence you’d grown used to on these nights.

Soobin glanced at you, his lips pressed into a small line. “I get that,” he said after a moment. “More than you think.”

You turned to look at him properly then. His gaze was steady, gentle, but serious in a way that made you feel like he wasn’t just saying it to relate.

“It’s not as hopeless as it feels,” he added. “People care about you more than you realize.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You don’t know that.”

He smiled faintly, eyes dropping to his drink before returning to the skyline. “I think I do. It’s just… people are bad at saying it. Or showing it in the way you need. Sometimes they care in these small, stupid ways that don’t look like much until you’re really vulnerable. Until something breaks you open. Then you notice all the little things.”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around your glass. “It just makes me feel ungrateful when you say it like that. Like I’m ignoring what I have and focusing on what I don’t.”

“No,” he said immediately, turning back to you. “That’s not what I mean.” His voice was soft but firm. “You’re allowed to feel like this. It doesn’t make you ungrateful. It makes you human. Wanting to be chosen, wanting to be loved, wanting to hear that you matter—that’s not selfish.”

Your shoulders loosened a little, the tension there unraveling just a bit.

“As long as you don’t let it eat you alive,” he finished quietly. “That’s the only part that worries me.”

You looked down at your hands, tracing the faint ring of moisture your drink had left on the rooftop ledge. “It’s been hard lately,” you confessed. “Harder than I want to admit.”

The city hummed below, a distant, unfocused sound. Up here, the noise inside your head was louder.

“I’ve become so painfully aware of how much I want to be loved,” you said. “Like, obsessively aware. I want someone to look at me and just… decide I’m worth the effort. I want to hear it from someone’s mouth, not just assume or hope. I want to know I matter to someone, and not in a vague, ‘everyone matters’ way. In a real way.”

You could feel his eyes on you, heavy and attentive. Before he could speak, you rushed on, cutting him off.

“And I don’t need to hear it from you,” you added quickly, a half-laugh slipping out that sounded more like a defense mechanism than actual humor. “That’s not what I’m fishing for. I don’t want it to be some empty consolation prize you hand me because I sound pathetic. I want it to mean something when I finally hear it.”

Soobin stared at you, then let out a low chuckle, the sound warm but tinged with something else. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

You shrugged, a little embarrassed now that your own words had caught up with you.

“It is disappointing,” he said, rolling the glass between his palms. “When life doesn’t meet your expectations. When the things that are supposed to come naturally—love, comfort, being understood—feel like things you have to beg for instead.”

His voice faded off, and you noticed the way his expression shifted. His shoulders tensed slightly, his gaze dropping to his drink again. He pressed his lips together, as if weighing something in his head.

You watched him, your earlier heaviness momentarily replaced by curiosity. “What?” you asked softly. “What’s on your mind?”

He hesitated. You could practically see the thought wrestling behind his eyes. The rooftop suddenly felt smaller, the space between you both more charged.

He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, eyes flickering up to meet yours. “I… probably shouldn’t say this,” he muttered.

You tilted your head. “You know that’s the worst possible way to start a sentence.”

He let out a breathy laugh, almost nervous this time. A heartbeat passed. Then another.

Finally, in a low voice that felt like it was meant just for you, he said, “You need to know that I have grown to care for you. Deeply.”

For a second, you were sure you’d misheard him. Your brain refused to process the words, as if they were in a language you’d never learned.

You stared at him, your mouth parting slightly. “What… are you talking about?” you asked, the words coming out faint and disbelieving.

Soobin looked almost painfully honest as he held your gaze. “We’ve been doing this for a while now,” he said. “You and me. Coming up here, talking about everything we don’t tell anyone else. Trading scars. Being vulnerable in that weird, safe way because we’re just… neighbors who happen to share a rooftop escape.”

His fingers drummed lightly against his glass. “At first, I thought I just pitied you a little,” he admitted. “Or that I sympathized with you. I liked having someone I could relate to every now and then. Someone who didn’t expect anything from me outside of these conversations.”

He swallowed, his eyes softening. “But then it started to hurt,” he continued quietly. “Every time you told me you were having a hard time, something in me twisted. Because to me, you don’t deserve any of it. Not the loneliness, not the doubt, not that feeling that no one cares about you.”

His voice trembled on the last words, almost imperceptibly.

“We’re just two strangers,” he went on. “Two people who decided this rooftop would be our way to escape the rest of the world. We started talking because it was easier to tell the truth to someone who had no influence over our lives. No shared history. No expectations.”

He paused, then gave a small, almost helpless smile.

“But somewhere along the way, the lines blurred,” he said. “Somewhere, you stopped being just a stranger I vented to. I started looking forward to seeing you up here. To hearing your voice. To knowing how your day went. And I knew what that meant.”

Your heart was hammering in your chest, thudding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

“It meant,” he finished softly, “that you were going through something. That I was going through something. That our hurt brought us together. And I…” He exhaled slowly. “I don’t want that to be the only reason we stay together.”

The words settled over the rooftop like a warm blanket, heavy and comforting and terrifying all at once.

You didn’t know what to say. You were stunned, but beneath the shock, something in you felt achingly moved. Touched in a place you hadn’t allowed anyone to reach in a long time.

You understood, in a way, why he hadn’t said anything sooner. If he had, on some random night when you were still clinging to the idea that your lives were cleanly separated, it would have made no sense. It would have broken the unspoken rules you’d both quietly agreed to.

Still, hearing it now made your chest ache.

He seemed to notice your silence and quickly raised his hands in a small, reassuring gesture. “I’m not expecting anything from you,” he said. “I just… wanted you to know. So that the next time you feel like no one cares, you can at least remember that isn’t true.”

Your throat tightened. “Soobin…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he added gently. “Really. This isn’t supposed to make things harder for you. I just didn’t want to keep it all in and let you sit with those thoughts alone.”

You blinked rapidly, turning your gaze away so he wouldn’t see the way your eyes were starting to sting. The city lights blurred, smearing into hazy streaks.

“Thank you,” you managed after a moment, your voice quiet but sincere. “For telling me. For… all of this.”

He smiled, small and relieved, like your gratitude was more than enough.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence then, the kind that only people who had bared enough of themselves could share without it feeling awkward. You listened to the hum of distant traffic, the faint thump of bass from a party a few buildings over, the clink of his ice melting completely in his glass.

Time passed in unmeasured increments. Eventually, Soobin stretched his arms above his head and let out a soft sigh.

“It’s getting late,” he said, his tone apologetic but light. He set his now-empty glass aside and pushed himself to his feet. “I should probably head in before I turn into a rooftop fossil.”

You snorted quietly at that. He dusted off his jeans, then looked down at you, hesitating for a moment.

He usually ended nights like this with a soft, certain, “I’ll see you again.” It had become your unspoken promise, your assurance that this strange little bubble you’d built together wouldn’t just pop overnight.

But tonight, he hesitated.

“Will I…” He paused, catching himself, and his voice came out a little more tentative. “Will I see you again up here?”

There it was—the question slipped in where a statement used to be. It shouldn’t have made such a difference, but it did. You felt his uncertainty like a small tug on your heart.

You looked up at him and nodded, a tiny smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah,” you said softly. “You will.”

Relief flashed through his expression, subtle but unmistakable. He gave you a gentle smile, one that lingered even after he turned to head toward the rooftop door.

You watched his back as he disappeared down the stairs, the metal door swinging shut behind him with a soft clank. You stayed there a little longer, your drink now warm and flat, your mind replaying his confession over and over like a record caught in a groove.

Eventually, when the chill in the air seeped past your clothes and into your skin, you dragged yourself downstairs and back to your own apartment.

—

Your bedroom was dim, lit only by the faint glow from your phone screen on the nightstand. You lay on your back, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the shadows there morphing into shapes that didn’t hold your attention for more than a heartbeat at a time.

You were exhausted. The alcohol had left a pleasant heaviness in your limbs, your body sinking comfortably into the mattress. But your mind wouldn’t quiet.

Every time you closed your eyes, you heard his voice again.

You need to know that I have grown to care for you. Deeply.

It echoed, threading itself around old memories of his soft smiles, his thoughtful questions, the way he always listened like what you were saying actually mattered.

You tossed onto your side. Then your other side. You kicked your blanket off, then pulled it back over you. Your pillow felt too warm, then too cold. Your frustration built with each minute that passed, and still, sleep refused to take you.

You didn’t fully understand why you were so restless, but you knew—instinctively—that it had everything to do with him.

With a sigh, you sat up and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. You stared at the floor for a moment, then found yourself standing, your body moving before your mind caught up.

By the time you were slipping into a hoodie and shoving your keys into your pocket, you’d stopped questioning it. You just needed to see him. To make sense of this new thing between you.

The hallway outside your apartment was quiet, the hum of old fluorescent lights overhead filling the silence. You padded down the worn carpet, your steps soft but quick, your heart pounding unreasonably fast for such a short walk.

You stopped in front of his door, staring at the faded number for a few seconds. Part of you wanted to turn back, to crawl into bed and pretend this was just another passing late-night thought.

Instead, you raised your fist and knocked.

For a long moment, there was nothing.

Then you heard faint movement inside—footsteps, the shifting creak of floorboards, the soft rustle of fabric. Your pulse skipped.

The door opened.

Soobin stood there, hair slightly tousled, wearing a loose t-shirt and sweatpants that hung comfortably from his hips. He looked tired, but not annoyed. If anything, his expression first flickered to surprise, then very quickly softened into something like concern.

He didn’t ask, What are you doing here? He didn’t demand an explanation.

Instead, the first words out of his mouth were, “Are you okay?”

The simplicity of it, the sincerity, hit you harder than you expected.

You nodded slowly. “Yeah,” you said, though your voice came out a little thin. “I just… can’t fall asleep.”

He studied you for a beat, his eyes searching your face like he was trying to read between every blink, every twitch of your mouth.

He didn’t ask why. He didn’t ask what he was supposed to do about it.

He simply stepped aside, opening the door wider. “Come in,” he said quietly. “It’s okay.”

You swallowed, your chest tightening again for a totally different reason this time, and stepped past him into his apartment.

He closed the door behind you with a soft click, but you both lingered there near the entryway, neither of you rushing to move further in. The air felt different in here—warmer, more intimate, carrying a subtle scent of something clean and earthy.

You’d known him as your neighbor for a while now. You’d shared so much of yourselves on that rooftop that it sometimes felt like you knew every corner of his mind. But this… this was different.

You’d never been inside his space before.

You slipped off your shoes, more out of instinct than instruction, and let your eyes roam.

Soobin’s apartment was nothing like what you had imagined, and yet somehow, it fit him perfectly. The living room was tidy but lived-in, with soft, mismatched cushions thrown over a comfortable-looking couch. A small bookshelf stood against one wall, filled not just with books, but also with small trinkets—tiny figurines, a few framed photos, a well-loved mug holding an assortment of pens.

Plants claimed the corners—tall ones reaching for the light, smaller ones perched on shelves, their leaves catching the dim glow from a warm lamp. A faint scent of vanilla and something woody hung in the air, likely from the half-burnt candle you spotted on the coffee table.

You drifted further inside, drawn by curiosity. Your fingers brushed the edges of a framed print on the wall—abstract shapes in soft blues and muted pinks. You paused at a small gallery of photos: blurry shots of city streets, close-ups of hands holding coffee cups, a candid picture of someone laughing that you didn’t recognize.

You noticed Soobin watching you quietly, his hands tucked into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“You have good taste,” you said, turning to him with a small, genuine smile.

He ducked his head, a hint of color blooming along his cheeks. “I just buy whatever doesn’t make my eyes hurt,” he replied, trying to play it off. But there was a glimmer of pride there, and you caught it.

You moved slowly through the hallway, the soft soles of your socks silent against the floor. You ran your fingers along the wall as you passed, letting yourself feel the texture of the paint, the quiet intimacy of being in his space.

He followed a few steps behind, saying nothing, but you could feel his presence like a warm shadow.

When you reached the doorway of his bedroom, you hesitated.

The room was dim, illuminated only by the faint light spilling in from the hall and a soft glow from a lamp on his nightstand. The bed was unmade but not messy—sheets slightly rumpled, pillows pushed toward the headboard like he’d been lying there not long before you knocked.

A couple more plants sat on the windowsill, their leaves silhouetted against the curtains. The fabric filtered the city lights outside into a muted, dreamy glow.

You stepped inside and went straight toward the window, drawn as always to the view. You slipped your fingers into the curtain, parting it just enough to see the city stretching out below, familiar but new from this angle.

Through the thin reflection in the glass, you could see Soobin behind you.

He’d followed you into the room, standing a few steps away, his posture relaxed but careful, like he was trying very hard to give you space in his own bedroom.

Your eyes flicked to his reflection. He looked softer in the weak light—eyes gentle, hair falling haphazardly over his forehead. Something about the sight of him there, in his space, with you in it too, settled over you like a quiet calm.

Looking at him made you feel oddly peaceful.

You let the curtain fall back into place and turned around.

For a moment, the two of you simply looked at each other. No one said anything. The silence didn’t feel empty; it felt full, charged with everything you’d said earlier and everything you hadn’t.

You weren’t sure who moved first.

All you knew was that one second you were standing a few feet apart, and the next, the distance between you was gone.

You closed the gap slowly, bodies drawn together by something that felt inevitable. The first brush of his lips against yours was tentative, almost questioning, but there was a warmth there that made your knees go weak. His hands hovered for a second, like he was asking for permission without words.

You gave it.

You let your hands find him—his shoulders, his chest, the solid, surprising strength beneath the softness of his shirt. He shivered under your touch, his breath catching, and it sent a thrill through you that had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with him.

You moved together through the dim room, slow steps bringing you closer to the edge of his bed, your mouths never fully parting for long. You could feel the thud of his heart when you pressed closer, fast and uneven against your palm.

When he sat down on the mattress and you followed, settling onto his lap, the world outside the bedroom ceased to exist. There was only the slide of his hands over your sides, the way he murmured your name like it meant something precious, the familiar smell of his skin now so close it wrapped around you.

He lifted your hoodie off your body, the faint clink of your keys hitting the floor compelling you to learn further into him. His shirt followed. Your hands roamed over his firm shoulders, his chest, his back. His skin was soft and warm, his heart hammering rapidly under his ribs. 

His fingers were gentle, patient as they unclasped your bra, which joined your hoodie by the foot of his bed. He touched your breasts, caressed your back, and picked you up, placing your body under his, shifting to hover over you. 

Your eyes met briefly, a gentle smile splaying on his lips. You pulled his mouth back to yours, tasting a faint sweetness that was likely his mouthwash, but also something irresistibly him. He pulled your shorts down, along with your underwear. You kicked them off, your breath hiking as his own pants followed. Nothing about his actions felt hasty. Even though you were moving fast, everything felt just right. 

You let your hand wrap around his member. He wasn’t completely hard. You tugged softly. He groaned quietly, his fingers sliding between your folds tentatively. He swallowed your helpless whimpers as his tongue rolled over yours. You could feel his cock getting heavier with each second that passed, matching the aching pulse between your legs as his thumb toyed with your clit. 

He pulled away from you, just for a moment, and you could see in his expression that he was ready. So were you. He settled next to you and drew you on top of him. You pressed your chest flush against his, angling your hip upward while he worked to slip his cock inside you. 

You lowered yourself slowly, losing your breath as he filled your walls. His hands found your hips, holding you tighter now than he had before. He guided your movements, keeping them steady. As he brought you down, he bucked his hips up, your bodies falling into a cohesive harmony. 

Eventually, leaving one hand fixed on your hip, Soobin brought the other to your jaw. Your lips, which had been travelling down to his neck and collar, were brought back to his mouth. His kisses felt more urgent now, the pace of his thrusts picking up just slightly. 

Your fingers wove out of his hair and pressed against his chest. Sitting up, you sent all your weight into your hips, meeting his thrusts halfway, making them feel sharper. Though your thighs burned, you didn’t relent. The way his head fell back against the pillow and his jaw slacked motivated you to keep going just the same. 

Soobin’s fingers squeezed your ass, his touch feeling desperate. Heat crawled up your face every time you slid down on his cock. Your body was ablaze. As his thrusts began faltering, you moved faster. He sat up quickly, mouth opening on your neck, anguished lips sucking on your skin. 

It was like he had struck a match; the sensation ignited you. He took control of your movements again, relieving the fire in your legs, using your body selfishly. You dug your knees into the mattress, throwing your head back, letting him have at you.

With one final push, you felt his body tense up, and then he released. Your limbs were shaking with adrenaline. He relaxed within seconds, still groaning through gritted teeth, but he maintained his strong grip on you, not ready to let you slip away. 

You pressed your forehead against his, panting softly, eyes shut, focused on the feeling of his cum mixing with your own wetness. The thin sheen of sweat lining your back felt icy now as you finally registered your state of undress. It felt calming, like a gentle breeze. 

Soobin didn’t want you to move an inch. He wanted to stay just like this, bodies recovering in tandem. 

Later, when everything had quieted down and the air in the room felt heavy and warm, you found yourself lying with your head resting on his chest.

His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear—a slow, gentle rhythm that reminded you of waves lapping at the shore. Comforting. Repetitive. Safe.

Your fingers skimmed lazily across his torso, tracing meaningless patterns along his skin. He, in turn, was doing the same to you, drawing feather-light lines along your arm, your side, wherever he could reach without disturbing the way you were perfectly draped over him.

His touch was so soft it was almost ticklish, but there was something soothing in it too, something that made your eyelids grow heavier with each passing minute.

You fought the sleep pulling at you.

You didn’t want to close your eyes, didn’t want to miss a single detail about him that you’d never been allowed to notice this closely before. Not just his words now, but him. The ordinary, quiet things that made up who he was in these unguarded moments.

The way his chest rose and fell under your cheek. The subtle, clean scent of his skin, still tinged with the faint sweetness of his body wash. The shape of his collarbone beneath your palm when you shifted slightly.

You lifted your head just enough to look at him.

His hair was a little messy, strands falling haphazardly over his forehead. His eyes were half-lidded, lashes resting gently against his cheeks every few seconds as he blinked slowly, like he was on the edge of sleep too but fighting it for the same reason you were.

When he looked at you, it was with an expression so soft it made your chest ache. He looked at you like you were something fragile and precious—a delicate vase he was terrified of dropping, but couldn’t bring himself to put down.

Your throat felt tight again, but not in the same painful way it had on the rooftop.

He reached up and brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering for a second longer than necessary against your skin.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “You should sleep.”

You wanted to protest, to tell him you weren’t tired, but your jaw stretched betraying you in a slow, involuntary yawn.

He smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting in quiet amusement.

“See?” he whispered. “Go to sleep.”

You rested your head back on his chest, this time letting more of your weight sink into him. His arm tightened around you, holding you secure against him in a way that made something deep inside you finally, finally relax.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he added softly, his lips brushing the top of your head as he spoke. “Still holding you. I’m not going anywhere.”

The reassurance settled into you, warm and sure, filling the spaces that once felt so hopelessly empty.

For the first time in a long time, the thought of being cared for didn’t feel like some distant, unreachable fantasy.

With the steady beat of his heart in your ear and the weight of his arms around you, your eyes fluttered shut. The city outside continued on, loud and endless, but in Soobin’s bedroom, everything was quiet.

You let yourself believe him.

he gives you a look and takes another bite of his mom's an alien flavour as you two sit beneath the scorching heat. it was your idea to get ice cream, since the mall hadn't exactly been the most fruitful and you had wanted to cool down after leaving the house on such a hot day. you continue to eat in silence, enjoying the delicious mint chocolate ice cream until you hear the sound of a picture being taken beside you.

you whirl your head around. "did you just take a picture of me?"

he doesn't say anything, instead tilting his phone towards you to show you the picture with a barely-suppressed a laugh. you look over to see a picture of yourself with some mint chocolate that had made its way onto your nose, somehow.

"delete that!" you yell. he simply laughs in response.

you move your arm to wipe the ice cream off when he catches your arm halfway. you turn towards him, a questioning look on your face, when he takes a napkin out of his pocket and delicately wipes the ice cream for you.

"there," he says softly. he leans in and gives you a small kiss where he just finished cleaning your face.

you smile at him and return to eating your ice cream when he has a wonderful idea. he takes a small spoonful of melted ice cream and wipes it on his lips.

"look, [y/n], i got ice cream on myself," he pouts.

"i'll get it," you say, reaching for the discarded napkin in his lap. before you can grab it, he quickly takes it and shoves it behind his back.

"uh oh, looks like we have no napkins. i wonder if there's another way to clean it," he ponders, devious look in his eyes.

you look at him, incredulous look on your face. he looks so endearing silly with ice cream in one hand, the other shoved behind his back, melted ice cream dripping from his lips onto his chin and a wild look in his eyes.

"you know if you want a kiss, all you have to do is ask," you laugh, shaking your head.

you lean in and capture his lips in a soft kiss, and you can taste the sweet flavour in your mouth as you kiss the ice cream off his lips. he drops the napkin behind his back and slides his arm around your back, pulling you closer. you pull away after a few moments, aware that your ice cream is going to melt at this rate.

"i can confirm, mint chocolate sucks," he smirks against your lips.

"you're so mean!" you slap his arm jokingly.

He let out an uncharacteristically loud laugh, clutching his stomach as his cheeks indented at the corners of his lips. 

“Relax! I just have to color your whole head. Not like i’m doing some fancy stuff. I mean, I probably could…” He grinned.

You rolled your eyes in faux-annoyance, nodding your head slightly to urge him to continue as you focused on coloring the ends of your hair.

“Isn’t the color cute though?”

He hummed softly in response, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he focused on coloring your hair near your hairline.

“Yeah,” he said softly.

“What made you pick the color? I wonder…” He mused before perking up, his eyes sparkling as he made eye contact with you through the bathroom mirror.

“Was it the character from that anime I told you to watch? Saiki.” 

You nodded, a small smile on your lips as you got back to work.

“Yeah. His hair color is cute. And fun.” 

“True. And it does suit you. I hope i’ll be credited for the inspiration.”

You raised an eyebrow at his words, setting the brush down as you prepared another batch of dye. 

“Wouldn’t I instead be crediting the character though?”

“No.” He smiled, raising his own brush pointedly. “I told you to watch the show…so I basically fed the idea to you. It’s my logic.”

“Some logic you have…”

“If it wasn’t a Sunday, I would’ve been ready to explain my incredible reasoning to you all night if i had to, but you’re off the hook. For now.”

You laughed softly, the small banter between you continuing as your hair continued to bloom pink, the dye occasionally staining your skin— but who were you to pay mind to it? After all, Sundays like this with Soobin were always the best kind.

His weight pressed firmly into you, his chest hot against your own, the heat of his bare skin searing into you until there was no space left between your bodies, only breathless clinging and slick flesh. “Soobin—” your voice cracked on his name, your lips brushing against his ear in a trembling whisper, raw with desperation. “Harder.”

His response was a low, amused sound, the kind of cruel tenderness that made your stomach twist. “Harder?” he echoed softly, almost sweetly, though his hips answered first, snapping forward with a sharp, punishing thrust that had you gasping. His hands bracketed your head against the pillow, caging you in as his dark gaze pinned you beneath him. “My baby wants it harder, hmm?” His tone was dripping with mockery, with delight, as he slowed suddenly, rolling his hips in deliberate, languid circles, each drag torturous. He was teasing you, denying you, reveling in the way your body trembled and your voice broke as you tried to chase more.

Tears burned your eyes as you pleaded, your voice fraying with helpless need. “Please…” your whisper came out hoarse, barely more than a broken exhale. “Please fuck me harder.” That earned you a chuckle, low and wicked, vibrating through his chest. It wasn’t kind, no, it was the sound of a man savoring every ounce of your begging. His large hands slid down, fingers digging into your hips with bruising force before he shifted you, angling your body just so, and then drove into you with a merciless rhythm. The first thrust stole the air from your lungs in a single jagged gasp, a squeak tumbling out of your lips as your back arched off the bed. He gave you no reprieve. His pace was brutal, unrelenting, each stroke sending waves of heat crashing through you until your voice dissolved into broken cries. His breathing grew ragged to match yours, his jaw tight, his muscles straining with the sheer intensity of it. 

“My pretty baby,” Soobin hissed between clenched teeth, the words tumbling out like a growl. His hips never faltered, his relentless pace only making the bed groan beneath you. “So small, so perfect. I can’t wait until you’re swollen and round with my baby—fuck, you’ll look so beautiful like that.” The words slammed into you as hard as his thrusts, pulling a ragged moan from deep within your chest. Your body arched again, surrendering to him completely, offering yourself up to be filled, to be broken apart beneath the sheer weight of his desire. You couldn’t stop the sounds falling from your lips, couldn’t stop the way your body clung desperately to his, every part of you unraveling as you let him take what he wanted, however he wanted. 

His hands clamped back onto your hips, fingers digging into your flesh with bruising force before he yanked himself out in one rough, dizzying motion. You barely had time to gasp, let alone comprehend, before he was flipping you onto your stomach, your body jolting with the suddenness of it all. A sharp cry left your throat, but the sound was cut off as he shoved back into you with unyielding force, burying himself to the hilt as if he had never left. There was no moment to breathe, no chance to adjust, just the relentless fullness of him stretching you again, driving you into the mattress until your lungs burned. “Oh—fuck!” The word tore from your lips, ragged and loud, only to be muffled when his hand pressed firmly against the back of your head, forcing your face into the pillow. You clawed at the sheets, the pressure, the rhythm, everything overwhelming as he drove forward with merciless strength.

“I’m going to fuck a baby into you,” Soobin panted against the curve of your spine, his voice low and ragged, dripping with a promise that made your insides clench. His palm cracked sharply against your ass, the sting blooming into heat that made you whimper, your body jolting with the impact. He watched the recoil with a wicked grin tugging at his lips, the sight alone stoking his hunger. “Do you want that, baby? Do you want me to fill you up and put my kids inside you, mama?”

“Yes—yes,” the word broke from you in a desperate slur, muffled by the pillow beneath your mouth. “Fuck, yes, yes, yes.” Your hips weakly rolled back against him, searching for more, some shred of control, some fragment of dignity, but he denied you even that. His hand shoved your hips back down with ruthless force, pinning you to the mattress, holding you exactly where he wanted. His thrusts only grew harsher, faster, each one pounding the air from your lungs until you could do nothing but sob brokenly into the sheets. 

“Oh my god—” you cried out, your voice high, trembling, caught somewhere between a plea and a scream.

“Not god, sweetheart.” His laugh was cruel, rough in your ear, full of dark satisfaction. “Me.” His free hand tangled into your hair, yanking your head back until your mouth opened in a helpless gasp, his breath scorching the shell of your ear. “I’m the one making you feel like this.” He hissed, his voice low and commanding, his hips never faltering as they pounded into you with merciless precision. “Say it.” The demand seared against your skin as his grip tightened in your hair. “Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”  

“Y-you—” The words broke in pieces from your throat, tears streaking hot down your cheeks in helpless streams. Your fists twisted the sheets beneath you, knuckles white with strain as your body trembled under the weight of his rhythm. “You—”

“What’s my fucking name?” Soobin snarled, the sound sharp as his hand cracked against your ass again, the sting blossoming through your skin.

“S-Soobin—” you gasped, choking on his name, your voice raw with need. “Soobin.” Your chest heaved, your face flushed deep crimson as your core clenched tight around him. He pulled out only to slam back into you with brutal force, the impact stealing the air from your lungs all over again, leaving you whimpering and broken.

“Soobin?” His tone was mocking, cruel in its playfulness, each syllable dragged out like a taunt. His hips slowed just enough to make you shiver with frustration. “Not daddy?”

“Daddy!” The word spilled from you in a desperate sob, your head dropping against the mattress as your body bucked beneath him. “Oh my—daddy.” The title left your lips like a prayer, shaky, needy, unrestrained.

“That’s right, sweetheart…” His voice dropped, softer now, though the fire beneath it still burned. His palms smoothed down your trembling back, drawing lazy, soothing circles against your skin as if he could calm what he had set ablaze. “And soon—” his voice dipped lower, rough with promise, “I’m going to make you a mommy. You hear me? My pretty little mommy.”

Your breath hitched, your body tightening around him as the words pushed you closer to the edge, so close it was unbearable. “Mhm…” you whimpered, your voice breaking apart. “Gonna be… a-a mommy…” Soobin’s breathing grew heavier, each exhale harsher against the back of your neck as his grip on your hips turned vice-like. He drove into you with unrelenting force, dragging you with him toward the precipice, his body claiming yours with every merciless thrust.

Your words were nearly lost beneath the steady rhythm of his thrusts, each one jarring you further, unraveling you more and more until you were nothing but whimpers and broken syllables beneath him. The coil deep inside you wound tighter, unbearably taut, each drag of his cock pulling you closer to the inevitable. Soobin’s grip on your hips tightened, fingers sinking into your skin hard enough to bruise, his panting hot and ragged as it fell over the shell of your ear. “That’s it, baby. Say it again,” he hissed, his voice fraying with need. “Tell me what you’re gonna be for me.” 

“A-a mommy—” you cried, the words spilling from you helplessly, muffled by the pillow you buried your face into. “Gonna be a mommy, daddy—” That was all it took. A guttural growl tore from his throat as he fucked into you harder, deeper, with an intensity that left you clawing at the sheets, your nails tearing into the fabric. The air left your lungs in broken gasps as every stroke dragged your body closer to the edge, your vision blurring with tears as pleasure clawed through you. 

Your climax hit you like a wave crashing against rock, shattering through every nerve in your body. You cried out, your voice cracking, your body convulsing beneath him as your walls fluttered and clenched desperately around his cock. Your vision went white-hot, your mind blank but for the sensation of him, stretching you, filling you, consuming you. “So fucking tight—” Soobin snarled, his thrusts growing reckless as he chased his own release, your spasming body only spurring him on. “Take it, baby. Take it all.” His voice dropped to a broken groan, his pace frantic as he buried himself deep one final time. 

You felt it then, his release flooding into you, hot and overwhelming, spilling deep inside until it was all you could feel. His hips stuttered against you as his body trembled with the force of it, his chest pressing hard against your back, his breath ragged and harsh in your ear. “Mine,” he groaned, his teeth grazing your skin as he held you flush against him, refusing to let you go. “My baby, my sweet fucking girl, gonna make you round and full of me.” 

Your body trembled violently, still reeling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your walls fluttering weakly around him as you gasped for air. You collapsed into the mattress, boneless and shaking, his weight a heavy, grounding presence on top of you. And still, even as the haze of release lingered, he soothed his palms along your trembling spine, slow circles pressed into your damp skin, whispering low promises into your ear. “So good for me, sweetheart… so perfect. You’re mine. Always mine.”