Seong Taehun

Seong Taehun was a menace. "If you don't like it, then just shut up and sit still. You're making me lose." His chin digs into your shoulder, chest brushing against your back. You're trapped in between the arcade cabinet and Taehun, giving you little to no mind as he continued his unrelenting focus on the game on front of him with his fingers punching in the buttons of the controls. He's just finished his usual practice at his family dojo, dragged you along with him after classes from the comfort of your home unannounced. There isn't anywhere he doesn't bring you. You were close enough to the point where he's let you stay over every once in a while with his eomma and his old man, the first person he’s ever let them meet, really, and definitely the last. He doesn’t plan on letting others experience the things he’s done with you. Taehun doesn’t like labels, but he's come to the conclusion that you're his. You've been with him since god knows how long—it was only natural to consider you as someone he was 'associated' with, someone he keeps close to his side and somehow can’t let out of his sight or else he’ll go crazy the next time he sees you with someone else. And it's not like he can just tell you that he loves you. He doesn't. He's pretty sure. Love was sappy and for the weak and for stupid people like you. Sure, he holds you close, wraps his arms around you and doesn't like to let go. Sure, he's more than protective of you and can't bear to see you interacting with others. Sure, he’s always seen trailing behind you, glowering and sneering at the first person who looks at you, drags people to an alleyway when you’re not around just to beat them up until his knuckles were raw from the fact that they even dared to hit on you. You're his property, a possession he's unwilling to easily let go of. Never an obsession. That’s all there was to it.