Forced Marriage - Soogyu

Confined by Choices

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Beomgyu was abruptly woken up by the shrill sound of his alarm. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes and muttered to himself, “I’m so dumb for setting an alarm on the weekend.” He shuffled to the bathroom, took a quick shower, and threw on a crop top and pants. Feeling good in his outfit—comfortable, confident, and ready to enjoy a quiet day at home—he descended the stairs with a sense of anticipation.

But when he reached the bottom of the stairs, the sight that greeted him made his heart sink. His parents were seated in the living room, and Soobin was perched next to them, an air of cold authority surrounding him. The tension in the room was palpable. Beomgyu’s parents looked stern, while Soobin’s eyes were locked on him, scanning his outfit with a disapproving glare.

“Beomgyu,” his mom began, her tone firm and unyielding, “Haejin and Jungwon think it’s best for you to move in with Soobin. I need you to pack your things.”

“What? No way—” Beomgyu’s voice rose in panic.

“Pack your stuff, Beomgyu,” his dad interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Soobin will help you.”

Beomgyu’s heart pounded as he looked to his parents for some sign of understanding, but they were oblivious to Soobin’s cold, calculating gaze. Soobin’s stare was sharp, a silent threat that sent a shiver down Beomgyu’s spine. He knew that look too well—it meant he had no choice.

Soobin put on a thin, polite smile and turned to Beomgyu’s parents. “It’s alright, Mr. and Mrs. Park. I’ll help Beomgyu pack and make sure to get rid of anything that doesn’t suit him. Honestly, most of his clothes are quite awful anyway.”

His parents nodded, seemingly grateful for Soobin’s ‘help,’ oblivious to the underlying menace in his words.

As they ascended the stairs to Beomgyu’s room, Soobin’s expression remained cold, his demeanor authoritative. “Hurry up, Beomgyu. We don’t have all day,” he snapped.

Upstairs, Soobin stepped into Beomgyu’s room, immediately wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Ugh, this room is so pink and tacky. Just like its owner,” he sneered. Beomgyu flinched at the insult, his eyes darting nervously as Soobin began rifling through his belongings.

“So, Beomgyu,” Soobin said with a malicious edge, “do you really think you can just flaunt your ridiculous clothes and expect no consequences?”

Beomgyu’s heart raced as he saw Soobin reach into his pocket, pulling out handcuffs and a roll of tape. Panic surged through him. “W-What are you—”

Before Beomgyu could finish, Soobin grabbed his wrist and snapped one end of the cuffs around it, securing the other end to the bed frame. Beomgyu yanked at the cuffs, but they held firm. His eyes widened in terror as Soobin placed a strip of tape over his mouth, muffling his cries.

“Hmmm hmmm mmmm hmmm!” Beomgyu tried to shout, but his voice was stifled and desperate. Soobin smirked at his helplessness, the satisfaction clear in his eyes, as he turned his attention to Beomgyu’s closet. He began yanking out all of Beomgyu’s clothes—anything colorful, feminine, or unique—and tossing them onto the floor in a chaotic pile.

With a cruel laugh, Soobin grabbed a pair of scissors from Beomgyu’s desk. He approached Beomgyu with a sadistic grin and began cutting through his crop top, the fabric tearing easily under the sharp blades. “Beomgyu, you know what happens when you disobey me. Look at you—so ugly with your clothes torn. Next, your pants.”

Beomgyu’s eyes filled with tears as Soobin cut through his pants, leaving him exposed in his underwear. Soobin paused when he saw Beomgyu’s underwear—a delicate, feminine pair that made him laugh cruelly. “Really, Beomgyu? A panties?” Soobin taunted, pulling out his phone and snapping a photo. “If I sell this, I could make a lot of money.”