elina

[elinabi]

OMG, you're such a good writer! I absolutely loved the story about Lee Kang, I really want and hope for a part two!! Thank you so much

aww thank you sm💗 unfortunately i dont have a pt 2 in mind rn, however im working on something else with lee kang!

[elinabi]

Hey! I was wondering if you could a fanfic about Lee Kang. So basically its like he meets an old friend from the orphanage home years later at the university, the one he used to like a lot. And he can like ask her to help him with his plan or wtv you want. I hope its not too much. Thank you. I love your works btw.💗

hi!! i have various requests abt lee kang atm, i will probably harmonize them into one fic (including this) since they are kind of similar 🫶🏻

[elinabi]

Hey, I hope you’re not too discouraged by the recent negative comments. I really enjoy your fics and besides, people need to realize that this is fanfiction, emphasis on the FICTION part, because it’s NOT REAL. Like, you wouldn’t complain that a horror writer is too gory or a smut writer is too sexy, right??? They would’ve seen on your account that you write dark content and they didn’t care enough to check. Obviously you’re not advocating for the characters actions, it seems like they didn’t read the story at all. The story clearly places the character’s action in a negative light and they thought you were trying to make it sound hot??? If they don’t like this type of work, they have the very free option of skipping it. Giving you much love for your stories! ♥️♥️♥️

omg anon tysm this means a lot!! honestly i was getting a bit demotivated, i love u for this🥹 and also, im confused on how people miss the content warning then lash at me even though i clearly write everything… anyway, i will continue to write just for you guys, thanks ❤️

[elinabi]

Observed - Lee Kang x F!Reader

You thought he was your brother's friend—he always knew you were his.

CW: MDNI, dark themes, stalking, obsession, choking, non-consensual sexual content, creampie, unprotected sex, degradation, violence

A/N: hyunwook ate his role so bad i had to write abt him in his own fiction

You never liked your brother's friend.

There was always something about Lee Kang that unsettled you, something you couldn't quite name. It wasn't that he was rude or unfriendly. If anything, he was painfully quiet. He rarely spoke unless someone addressed him first, and even then, his answers were short, almost mechanical. Most of the time, his head stayed lowered, as if he were more interested in whatever was on his phone or laptop than the people around him.

Lately, though, your brother had started inviting him over far more often than before. At first, you assumed it was just a phase, another friendship that would fizzle out after a few weeks. Instead, Kang became an increasingly familiar presence in your home. According to your brother, the two had gotten close this year after Kang helped him survive his coding class, a favor your brother never seemed to stop talking about.

You supposed it made sense. Lee Kang fit every stereotype of a coding genius. Quiet, reserved, brilliant in ways that made everyone else look hopelessly behind. Yet beneath his withdrawn demeanor was something you could never ignore. His eyes.

Whenever he looked at someone, it never felt like a casual glance. His gaze lingered just a little too long, sharp enough to make your skin prickle, as though he were silently dissecting every expression and movement before storing it away. He never appeared distracted, not really. Even with his head bowed, you always had the strange feeling that he noticed far more than he let on.

And somehow, every time he stepped into your house, that feeling only grew stronger.

At first, you really did try to like him. You chalked his awkwardness up to shyness. You cracked jokes whenever the room grew too quiet, hoping to ease the tension that seemed to follow him wherever he went. You made an effort to include him in conversations, asking questions that were easy to answer and carrying discussions whenever they threatened to die out. It wasn't as though he was unpleasant, just... difficult to read.

Whenever he replied, his voice was barely above a murmur, flat and unassuming, each word delivered in the same dull cadence. He came across as timid, almost nervous around you.

But his eyes never matched the rest of him.

There was nothing hesitant about the way he looked at you.

While his voice remained soft and his posture reserved, his gaze never wavered. It didn't falter under yours or dart away in embarrassment the way a shy person's usually would. If anything, you were the one who found yourself breaking eye contact first, unsettled by the unwavering intensity behind his expression. It wasn't openly hostile or affectionate, it was simply observing. Too carefully and quietly.

His eyes were the problem.

Even when the two of you were occupied with entirely different things, you'd catch the unmistakable sensation of being watched. Across the living room while you scrolled through your phone. From the dining table as you washed dishes in the kitchen. During movie nights, when everyone else's attention was fixed on the television, you'd glance over only to find his eyes lingering on you for a split second before he looked away.

You tried to brush it off. Maybe he was just socially awkward. Maybe he zoned out more often than most people. Maybe you were reading too much into it.

But eventually, the feeling became impossible to ignore.

Your own home, once the only place you never had to think twice about relaxing, began to feel different whenever Lee Kang was there. Every room suddenly seemed to have a pair of unseen eyes tucked into the corner, following your movements with quiet, patient precision.

And no matter how many times you convinced yourself you were imagining it, you could never shake the strange, predatory feeling of being watched.

Even something as simple as leaving your room to grab a glass of water had become enough to send goosebumps racing down your arms.

You could feel his gaze before you even saw him.

It would follow you from the moment you stepped into the hallway, drifting over you with unsettling slowness, never obvious enough for anyone else to notice, yet impossible for you to ignore. It wasn't a quick glance or absent-minded curiosity. It lingered, tracing your movements from head to toe with a quiet intensity that made your skin crawl. Every trip to the kitchen felt like walking onto a stage where you hadn't agreed to be seen.

And Lee Kang's unnerving behavior didn't end with those piercing eyes.

More than once, you caught him standing inside your bedroom.

The first time, he claimed he had been looking for the bathroom after taking a wrong turn. The second time, he awkwardly muttered something about searching for your brother. By the third, you stopped believing the excuses altogether.

Each time, he always seemed to be standing near your dresser, the one where you kept your clothes. You tried to convince yourself it was nothing. Until you realized some of your underwear had gone missing.

After checking every drawer twice and searching the laundry basket for the hundredth time, you finally worked up the courage to tell your mom. You admitted that Lee Kang made you uncomfortable, that something about him had felt wrong from the very beginning, and that you couldn't shake the feeling he was crossing boundaries no one else seemed willing to acknowledge.

She listened, then she sighed. "He's just a quiet boy."

That was all. Somehow, Lee Kang had already won your parents over with his reserved, polite demeanor. He always greeted them respectfully, thanked your mother for every meal, offered to help clean up afterward, and had earned endless praise for helping your brother pass his coding class. To them, he was thoughtful, mature and well-mannered.

Then it happened. The very thing you had quietly dreaded ever since Lee Kang became a regular in your home.

Your parents decided he would tutor you.

The idea came about so casually that it almost made you sick. During dinner, Lee Kang had mentioned how exhausted he was from juggling multiple part-time jobs alongside university. Your father, impressed by his work ethic and still grateful that he'd helped your brother pass his coding class, immediately saw an opportunity.

"You could just tutor her instead," he'd suggested with a smile. "We'll pay you more than all those jobs combined."

You had laughed at first, convinced he was joking. He wasn't.

A few days later, your mother walked into your room wearing the same excited expression she always had whenever she thought she'd solved one of your problems.

"Good news," she announced cheerfully. "Lee Kang accepted. He'll start tutoring you next week."

For a moment, you heard nothing.

A high-pitched ringing filled your ears as the words settled in. Your chest tightened, your thoughts becoming sluggish beneath a wave of disbelief. It felt as though all the air had been pulled from the room.

"...What?"

Your mother continued talking, oblivious to the panic creeping across your face.

"He'll come over a few evenings a week. This is wonderful, sweetheart. He's such a bright young man—"

"Are you out of your mind?" you blurted, your voice breaking between uneven breaths. "I already told you he makes me uncomfortable! He's weird, Mom!"

She frowned immediately.

"Oh, don't start this again."

"No, you're not listening to me—"

Before she could finish, a gentle knock interrupted the argument.

The bedroom door had been left slightly ajar, Lee Kang stood on the other side.

His eyes found you first. Your chest rose and fell with sharp breaths, your face flushed with frustration, your hands trembling at your sides. He studied you for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

You could have sworn the corner of his mouth twitched. Not enough to call it a smile. Just the faintest hint of one before vanishing into his sugar-coated face.

He shifted his attention to your mother, his expression settling back into its usual quiet politeness.

"Um..." he began softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just wanted to let you know... I quit all my part-time jobs. Since we made our agreement, I figured I'd commit to this full-time."

His gaze drifted back to you for the briefest moment.

"Is... everything okay?"

A bitter scoff escaped before you could stop it.

Unable to bear the sight of him any longer, you tore your gaze away and looked out the window instead. The trees outside swayed gently beneath the evening breeze, their leaves rustling softly in the fading light. You focused on the movement, desperately trying to let the cool, familiar scene smother the anger burning through your veins.

Behind you, your mother let out an awkward laugh.

"Oh, everything's fine," she assured him quickly, waving a dismissive hand. "She's just overwhelmed. She agreed to the tutoring."

The lie made your stomach twist. You didn't turn around.

You heard Lee Kang murmur a quiet, "I see," before the floorboards creaked beneath his footsteps. The bedroom door clicked shut a moment later.

Only then did you allow yourself to blink.

Your vision blurred as tears stung the corners of your eyes. You hated it.

You hated that no matter how many times you tried to explain yourself, no one seemed willing to believe you. To everyone else, Lee Kang was simply a quiet, hardworking young man who had gone out of his way to help your brother and was now sacrificing his time to help you as well.

To them, you were being dramatic.

Your mother moved closer, her voice softening.

"Sweetheart..." she sighed. "You need to have a little empathy for him."

You stayed silent.

"He's shy. Socially awkward, maybe. Not everyone is good with people."

Still, you said nothing.

"Imagine how hurt he'd feel if he knew you thought these things about him."

You bit the inside of your cheek until it hurt.

Because no matter how desperately you wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that something wasn't right, that every instinct in your body was screaming at you, you already knew how the conversation would end.

With Lee Kang earning more sympathy, and you being told you were imagining things.

-

The first tutoring session arrived sooner than you would have liked.

Lee Kang was already seated next to you by the time you reluctantly entered your bedroom, your textbooks tucked beneath your arm. The silence between you stretched on as you settled into your chair, refusing to acknowledge him.

A ceramic mug slid into your line of sight.

"I made you coffee," he said quietly.

You looked down. Your favorite order, exactly how you liked it.

For a second, you simply stared at the cup before your eyes drifted back to him. You couldn't remember ever telling him how you took your coffee. He didn't seem to notice your hesitation.

"Your mom thought we should go over literature first," he continued, carefully arranging your textbooks into neat piles. Every movement was precise, almost methodical, as though he'd rehearsed the routine beforehand.

You remained silent, your disinterest written plainly across your face.

When he finally looked up, your expression seemed to make him pause.

He let out a quiet breath before he speaks up,."I wanted to apologize."

His voice was as soft as ever, lacking its usual monotony.

"I accidentally overheard your conversation with your mom the other day." He hesitated before continuing. "I... didn't realize I was making you uncomfortable."

For the first time since you'd met him, there was something different in his eyes.

They weren't empty and distant. They held an almost desperate sincerity, as if your answer genuinely mattered to him.

"I know we didn't get off on the right foot," he said, folding his hands together. "I just hope these sessions can give you a chance to know me better," He makes a small pause. "...To give us a second chance."

The choice of words made something inside you tighten.

Us.

His gaze lingered on yours, unwavering, patiently waiting for a response.

You frowned.

It was strange seeing this side of him. Softer, more expressive. More... human than the unnerving, silent figure you'd grown accustomed to avoiding. Against your will, your mother's words echoed in the back of your mind.

He's just shy.

Have a little empathy.

Maybe you've judged him too quickly.

You looked away, taking a slow breath as you gathered your thoughts.

Maybe... Maybe you really had been too harsh.

After a long moment, you let out a quiet sigh before giving him a reluctant nod.

"...Let's just start."

For the first time since entering the room, you turned your full attention toward him.

Across the table, Lee Kang smiled. It wasn't wide and it barely lasted a second. But somehow... It looked less like relief, and more like satisfaction.

-

The following weeks passed in a comfortable haze.

Every tutoring session blended seamlessly into the next. Lee Kang never crossed a boundary, never lingered too close, and never gave you another reason to doubt him. He kept a respectful distance, patiently guiding you through each lesson while conversations flowed with surprising ease.

Slowly, almost without realizing it, you found yourself letting your guard down.

The unsettling first impression he'd left behind began to blur around the edges, replaced by the quieter sides of him you discovered after every lesson. You learned that he preferred rainy days over sunny ones because they made it easier to write. That he almost never listened to music while studying. That he had a habit of tapping his pencil whenever he was searching for the right word.

And that he loved literature.

It quickly became your favorite subject to study together, not because you struggled with it, but because it was the only time Lee Kang truly came alive. His usually reserved voice gained warmth whenever he spoke about novels or poetry, and discussions that were meant to last half an hour somehow stretched into two.

He had once admitted, almost shyly, that writing was his greatest passion.

You believed him without question.

One evening, he'd even read one of his own poems aloud from the worn brown leather notebook he carried everywhere. You'd never forgotten the way his eyes had lit up with quiet pride as he read each line. It was the first time you'd seen genuine emotion break through his otherwise composed exterior.

Your parents noticed the change too.

They seemed relieved that you'd finally warmed up to him, convinced their judgment had been right all along. They'd trusted Lee Kang from the very beginning, but seeing the two of you chatting comfortably after lessons was enough for them to stop worrying altogether.

Soon, they no longer felt the need to stay home during tutoring sessions.

It became normal for the house to be left entirely to the two of you.

—

Another lesson begins much like the others. Today's topic is literature.

Halfway through organizing the books, Lee Kang rises from his chair. "I'll be right back," he says quietly. "Bathroom."

You nod without much thought.

As soon as his footsteps disappear down the hallway, you take another sip of your drink and absentmindedly skim through today's reading material. A small smile tugs at your lips.

Literature always brings out the most talkative version of him.

Your thoughts drift back to the afternoon he reads one of his poems aloud, his fingers gently tracing the edges of that familiar brown leather notebook. He lets you listen, but never once allows you to hold it yourself, always closing it the moment he finishes reading.

You tease him about being so secretive. He only smiles before tucking it back into his bag.

Your let your eyes wander across the table, stopping when you see the notebook there.

He must have forgot it. Your gaze flicks toward the hallway. When a deafening silence fills your ears, a quiet laugh escapes you before you can stop it.

"Curiosity really is going to kill me..."

Reaching across the table, you carefully pick up the brown notebook.

It's heavier than you expect.

The leather cover is worn smooth from years of use, its edges softened and creased as though it has accompanied him everywhere he goes. It's beautiful in the way only well-loved things can be.

You open it carefully. The first several pages are exactly what you expect, poems.

Some are handwritten so neatly they could have been printed, while others are hastily scribbled with corrections filling the margins. You can't help but smile as you remember him reading a few of them aloud.

Then, as you continue turning the pages, your fingers stop.

This isn't poetry. The handwriting is denser. Longer entries fill the page from top to bottom; each one neatly dated in the corner.

A diary.

Your stomach tightens. You should close it, you know you should, it was his privacy. But curiosity tugs harder than your conscience.

Glancing toward the empty hallway one last time, you bite your lip before lowering your eyes to the first line.

And you begin to read.

"I met her brother today."

"He's such a dumbass compared to her."

Your eyebrows knit together the moment your eyes catch the mention of yourself. Confusion crashes over you like an overflowing river.

This wasn't a diary. It was a collection of reports.

You flip to the next page.

"I met her parents through her brother today. She tried to talk to me… Cute."

Your heartbeat stutters.

Another page.

"I finally gained her parents' trust by helping her stupid brother pass."

Another.

"I can't resist staring at her."

Another.

"She catched me looking today. She looked away first."

Your breathing grows uneven as you keep turning the pages.

Each entry is dated, his writing shortening gradually. Like observations written by someone documenting an experiment.

"I gained her trust too. Easier than I thought."

Your fingers tremble. No. No, no, no... This can't be happening.

You hurriedly flip to the next page before a sharp thud stops you in your tracks.

The sound of the front door closing echoes through the house as a sharp gasp leaves your lips. The notebook slips from your hands, landing on the table with a heavy smack as you whip your head toward the hallway.

Lee Kang stands in the doorway, perfectly still. His expression is as calm as it has always been. As though nothing in the world is out of place.

He looks from the notebook... to you.

"What are you doing?" His voice is quiet, almost gentle.

"I was just—" The words catch in your throat.

You snatch the notebook from the table and place it back on top of the stack of books, your trembling hands desperately rearranging them into a neat pile.

"I was... rearranging the table." You force out a shaky laugh that even you don't believe. "I'm sorry, I—"

A short laugh cuts through your frantic explanation. It isn't loud, but it doesn't sound embarrassed, it’s rather amused.

"Why," he asks softly, "would you apologize for that?"

He starts walking toward you with slow, unhurried steps, each one so measured it feels almost calculated. Your eyes remain fixed on the books scattered across the table, too terrified to look up. If you meet his gaze now, you're certain he'll read every ounce of panic written across your face.

The footsteps come to a stop beside your chair.

He's close enough that you can feel his presence looming over you, the silence stretching unbearably between the two of you. Your fingers curl against the edge of the table as you force yourself to keep your breathing steady.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter than before, dropping into a tone that sends a chill down your spine.

"...Unless," he murmurs, "you were reading something you weren't supposed to read?"

Your breath catches, leaving your lungs in short, shaky bursts. Hidden beneath the table, your hands tremble uncontrollably in your lap as your mind races for a way out.

Don't think, just run.

The thought flashes through your mind, and your body acts before fear can root you to the spot.

You shoot up from your chair and shove him with every ounce of strength you have. The sudden force catches him off guard just enough for you to dart past him, your chair scraping violently against the floor as you lunge toward the door.

You barely make it two steps before a sharp tug at the back of your head jerks you to an abrupt stop. Pain blooms across your scalp as your hair is pulled taut, forcing your body backward before you can reach the handle.

Before you can regain your footing, he's already on you.

With alarming ease, Lee Kang forces you backward, and you stumble onto your bed. The mattress dips beneath your weight, the same bed that had always been your safest place, now suddenly feeling like a trap.

Panic surges through you. You lash out instinctively, kicking and twisting in a desperate attempt to put distance between the two of you. He catches your movements with frustrating precision, pinning you before you can slip away.

A hand clamps around your neck as your breath hitches.

The room spins as instinct takes over, your hands flying to his wrist as you try to pry him away. Every breath comes shorter than the last.

He lets out a quiet scoff, shaking his head as though you'd merely inconvenienced him.

"Stupid bitch," he mutters, disappointment lacing his voice. "And here I thought everything was going so smoothly."

Your vision blurs as you cling to his wrist with trembling fingers.

"P-please..." you manage, your voice strained and barely audible. "Don't... don't kill me."

For the first time since you'd met him, something in Lee Kang's expression shifts.

Not anger, nor satisfaction, something far more unsettling.

His grip eases just enough for air to rush painfully back into your lungs.

You suck in a ragged breath, coughing as your chest rises and falls in frantic, uneven rhythms.

A small sigh escapes him, almost... relieved.

"Oh, baby," he says softly, tilting his head as though the very idea had caught him off guard. "I would never."

The corners of his mouth lift into a faint smile. "I love you far too much for that."

The words don't comfort you, they hollow you out.

Your eyes widen as you stare at him, searching desperately for some sign that this is a joke, that the quiet, awkward tutor you've spent weeks convincing yourself to trust is still somewhere behind those familiar features.

Instead, you find only calm certainty. With relentless precision he grabs your shorts along with your panties and yanks them downwards, leaving you bare and defenseless.

You cry out to tell him to stop, but his hand tightens around your neck, reducing your voice into helpless hitches as tears stream down your cheek.

A spank cuts through the room, making you yelp when you feel a sharp pain across your pussy.

“Stay still.” There wasn't a trace of anger in his voice, only quiet, merciless certainty.

When he lowers his trousers and lets his flushed cock out, it unravels the last thread of composure you're clinging to. Your heartbeat spikes, each frantic thud echoing louder than your own thoughts.

He briefly grazes himself against your folds before pushing abruptly, eliciting a pained gasp from you. He fills you all the way to the brim with a groan under his breath before the corners of his mouth curl upward. “You’re gripping me so well, such a good slut.”

You feel him withdraw to the tip before thrusting harshly again. Tears stream down your face as your nails dig into the hand still gripping your neck, and he lets out a strained hiss, along with a twitch of his cock. He was enjoying the painful scratches you were giving him.

Every reaction, every touch from you was pleasurable for him, he had wanted this for so long.

He quickens his pace as you feel yourself growing hazier. He moves closer to your swollen, parted lips, smiling warmly as if nothing is wrong. Then he kisses you, unhurried, before resting his forehead against yours like this is something intimate and normal. “I love you so… so much,” he murmurs. “I’m going to prove it to you.”

When you feel his cock twitch continuously inside of your squelching pussy, you gather up your last strength to shake your head frantically as you whine.

“Shh. It’s okay. It’ll be over soon.” His voice stays steady, like he’s stating a fact rather than trying to calm you down.

With one final thrust, he presses deep into you as he releases his cum against your womb. He lets out rigid pants, trying to steady himself, before slowly releasing his grip around your neck. You let out worn out coughs as you feel his cum drip out from your hole. Between ragged breaths, sobs begin to overtake you, each one harder to suppress than the last. Your entire body trembles as you curl in on yourself, unable to steady your breathing.

Lee Kang watches you in silence for a long moment. Then, with a tenderness that makes your stomach turn, he brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face.

"You did well," he says quietly, sounding almost proud. "I knew you'd get through it."

[elinabi]

Hi! Well, I loved your writing in Pretend and I wanted to know if you could do like a part two, where her parents took her and her brother out of their current school, then he went to another school and she went to Eujang without knowing that Si Eun was there.

Pretend pt.2 - Yeon Sieun x F!Reader

pt. 1

CW: angst, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional manipulation, trauma responses (panic attacks!), violence (not towards reader), suggestive themes

A/N: ik this is super late but ty for the request <3

“Come on, introduce yourself.”

The teacher’s voice carries gently through the classroom as she turns to you with quiet patience, leaving no room for escape. Taking a steadying breath, you force yourself to meet the curious gazes of your new classmates, dozens of unfamiliar eyes fixed on you with varying degrees of interest and indifference. Offering a brief introduction, you manage a polite smile before making your way toward your seat, your pulse refusing to settle as whispers and fleeting glances immediately begin to spread around the room.

Your first day at Eunjang High unfolds exactly as you had imagined it would; people staring, quiet gossip exchanged behind raised hands, curious eyes lingering for just a second too long. You curl your fingers into tight fists beneath the desk, willing yourself to calm down, reminding yourself that this is simply what being new feels like.

And gradually, as the days pass, you begin to settle into unfamiliar routines, convincing yourself that perhaps this is what a fresh start is supposed to feel like. You tell yourself, over and over again, that everything belonging to your old life has been left behind.

Until one afternoon, while absentmindedly making your way through the hallway, you turn the corner and see him. Yeon Sieun.

The world around you falls silent as you freeze where you stand, neither of you move.

And in a single, unbearable moment, all the months that separate you from him come crashing down, collapsing beneath the weight of memories you have spent countless sleepless nights trying to bury.

Your chest tightens painfully, your ears ringing so loudly that it drowns out the chatter around you. Panic rises like a tidal wave, swift and merciless, and before your knees have the chance to give out beneath you, you turn away without a word and make your way toward the nearest bathroom, your footsteps quickening with every passing second.

The moment you lock yourself inside a stall, the first tremor runs through your body.

Your hands begin to shake uncontrollably as a sickening wave of nausea rolls over you. The walls suddenly feel too close, the air impossibly thin. Your breathing turns shallow and uneven, your heartbeat hammering wildly against your ribs as though desperate to escape.

And for the first time since that night in the storage lot, the first time since blood-stained knuckles and cruel words shattered your world beyond repair, you find yourself trapped in the suffocating grip of a panic attack, helplessly reliving a pain you had foolishly convinced yourself was buried in the past.

In the weeks that follow, life slowly settles into a rhythm you convince yourself you are becoming accustomed to. The hallways no longer feel quite as unfamiliar, and faces that had once belonged to strangers gradually become names, conversations, and invitations to lunch. You learn where the quieter corners of the school are, which convenience store nearby sells the best snacks, and which classmates always seem to have something amusing to say whenever the atmosphere grows dull.

And in those same weeks, you occasionally cross paths with him.

Sometimes it happens in the hallway between classes, where the crowd parts just enough for your eyes to meet before you quickly avert your gaze. Sometimes it's in the library, where you can feel his presence before you even see him, your grip tightening around your pen as you pretend to be engrossed in your notes. Sometimes, it's nothing more than catching sight of his figure disappearing down the staircase a second before your heart begins to race all over again. You do your best to avoid those dark, piercing eyes.

And he notices. The new friends you've made, how your laughter, once something reserved for quiet moments between the two of you, now spills freely across classrooms and lunch tables. He notices the way you smile more easily, the confidence slowly returning to your posture, the color gradually finding its way back into your expressions after months of looking hollow.

And every time he sees it, something bitter twists unpleasantly inside his chest.

Because you're okay, and you're recovering. It looks as though you've learned how to live without him and you act as though he doesn't even exist.

It kills Sieun. Not because he deserves your attention, or he expects your forgiveness.

But because somewhere along the way, in the quiet aftermath of his own cruelty, he had grown selfish enough to wish that maybe, just maybe, you would still look for him.

What Yeon Sieun doesn't know, however, is that in the sickest, most twisted way imaginable, you're performing. Not entirely, of course. The friendships are real, and so is the laughter that occasionally slips past your lips when your classmates say something stupid enough to make your stomach hurt. You are healing, little by little, learning how to live again in ways you once thought impossible. But the indifference, the way you pretend not to notice him whenever your paths cross, the ease with which you laugh with others when he's nearby, the practiced indifference you wear every morning before stepping through Eunjang's gates, that part is a lie.

A carefully rehearsed performance you cling to with embarrassing desperation, because some pathetic, hopeless part of you still wonders whether his eyes are following you through crowded hallways, whether he notices when you smile, whether seeing you with someone else stirs even the slightest emotion inside him.

And every time you dare steal a glance, only to find that dark, familiar gaze already lingering on you before quickly looking away, something shamefully warm blooms inside your chest, filling you with relief so humiliating it almost makes you hate yourself more than you hate him. You still find yourself unconsciously searching for his figure in crowded hallways. You still linger outside classrooms a second longer than necessary, wondering whether he's nearby. You still catch yourself hoping he'll stop you, say something, anything at all, even if it’s only your name.

After school one day, the noise of the school shifts into something heavier, more chaotic, as a fight breaks out near the edge of the school grounds and students instinctively gather in tightening circles, curiosity and adrenaline pulling them closer despite the underlying tension in the air. Voices overlap; sharp, excited and alarmed, until the scene becomes difficult to separate into anything coherent, just movement, noise and the raw, uncomfortable thrill of watching something unravel in real time.

A boy is thrown to the ground with enough force to knock the breath out of him, his body hitting the pavement in a way that makes the surrounding crowd collectively recoil, a few students shouting at once while others step forward as if unable to look away. The sound that follows is disjointed and ugly; someone yelling for teachers, someone else laughing too loudly, someone else frozen in place, unsure whether to intervene or simply watch.

But none of it reaches you properly. Because something in the way the boy falls, the sudden stillness that follows impact before pain fully registers, pulls you somewhere else entirely.

Suddenly, you're not standing in a crowded schoolyard anymore, you're back there.

Back in the storage lot where the air felt too cold and too sharp to breathe properly, where panic had once wrapped itself around your throat and refused to let go. Your vision shifts, reality thinning at the edges as your mind betrays you, replacing present noise with something far more intimate and far more devastating.

Your brother on the pavement, the world around him unnaturally still in the aftermath of impact, as if even sound has recoiled from the moment and left only a suffocating silence hanging in its place.

Blood stains the space between him and the world in uneven, spreading patterns that feel too vivid to belong to memory alone, too sharp to be safely contained in the past where they belong.

And Sieun, standing over him. His hands marked by your brother, frozen in that same terrible stillness, neither fully defensive nor fully remorseful, just suspended in a moment that refuses to resolve itself into anything understandable or clean.

That cruel sentence returns again, heavier now than it ever was in reality, collapsing inward with a kind of unbearable finality that drowns out everything else around it.

“You were never anything more than revenge.”

Your breath catches abruptly, shallow and fractured, as if your lungs have forgotten how to function in any steady rhythm. Your fingers begin to lose feeling, a cold numbness spreading through your hands and climbing upward as the world around you tilts in slow, disorienting waves that make it difficult to distinguish direction or distance.

The noise of Eunjang fades into something distant, replaced instead by the violent echo of your own heartbeat hammering painfully against your ribs. For a moment, you try to anchor yourself, but nothing holds long enough to keep you present.

And then instinct takes over as you turn and run.

You don’t make it far.

An empty hallway bench catches you before your legs fully give out, as if your body finally decides it can’t carry the weight of what you’ve just seen anymore. The corridor around you is nearly deserted now, the earlier chaos outside reduced to a distant echo that barely feels real, replaced by the sterile hum of fluorescent lights that stretch the moment into something unnaturally long and suffocating.

Your hands shake uncontrollably as you try to steady yourself, fingers curling and uncurling against nothing, searching for a sense of control that doesn’t come. Your vision blurs at the edges, the world bending slightly out of shape, as though reality itself is losing coherence. You can’t tell if you’re breathing properly anymore; each inhale feels too short, too sharp, stolen before it can settle, while every exhale leaves you lighter in a way that feels wrong.

Tears come without warning, spilling hot and unrestrained down your cheeks as you lean forward slightly, one hand pressing uselessly against your chest as if you could physically slow the panic building inside you.

And then, a voice cuts through the noise, not loud enough to command attention, but steady in a way that feels almost impossible in a moment like this, as if it refuses to be swallowed by everything breaking apart inside you.

“Look at me.”

It takes effort, more than it should, to lift your head.

The world still feels unstable, edges of reality wavering as your breath refuses to settle into anything consistent, but slowly, painfully, your gaze rises anyway, dragged upward by something you can’t fully name.

Sieun is there, kneeling in front of you.

Close enough that you can see the subtle tension in his posture, the controlled stillness of someone who is choosing every movement carefully, as if any sudden shift might shatter whatever fragile space exists between you.

He doesn’t touch you at first, doesn’t invade your space or rush you into stillness. He simply stays where you can see him, as if offering himself as something solid in a world that has just fractured beneath your feet.

“Hey,” he says quietly, voice low and controlled in a way that almost feels practiced. “You’re okay.” He pauses before continuing, “Just breathe. Slowly.”

You drag in a shaky breath, holding it for a second too long before letting it fall out of you in a broken exhale.

And at some point, without you even realizing when, your hand moves, not deliberately or calmly but purely on instinct, as if your body has made a decision your mind hasn’t caught up to yet.

Your fingers find the fabric of his sleeve and close around it tightly, desperately, like it’s the only thing keeping you from slipping completely out of yourself.

Sieun goes still immediately, not just in movement but in presence, as if even breathing has been paused. His expression shift in the most imperceptible way; something in it tightening, then cracking, not fully breaking but no longer holding together the way it was before.

Because after everything he did, you’re still holding onto him.

Eventually, your breathing steadies, uneven at first and then slowly more controlled, as if your body is finally remembering how to exist outside of panic. You lean against his shoulder without really thinking about it, exhaustion settling into your bones in a way that feels heavier than sleep, heavier than anything you can name.

Neither of you speaks for a long time. The silence between you isn’t empty, but dense, saturated with everything that has been said and everything that still refuses to be said out loud, hanging there like something fragile neither of you wants to disturb.

Then, quietly, through lingering tears, your voice breaks it.

“I hate you.”

Sieun closes his eyes at that, not in defense or rejection, but in something more complicated, because he understands exactly what you mean, and worse, he understands that you mean it and still haven’t moved away from him.

“I know,” he answers softly.

And that; not the shouting, not the betrayal, not even the memory of what was lost between you, is what unsettles him the most.

Because despite everything he destroyed, despite everything you lost because of him, you are still here, still within reach, still choosing not to leave. And he realizes, with a clarity that sits heavy in his chest, that he still doesn’t know how to let you go.

The silence stretches again, thinner now, more fragile in a way that almost hurts to sit inside of. You don’t pull away. If anything, you stay close enough that the space between you feels like a question neither of you is brave enough to answer.

Sieun looks at you for a long moment, like he’s weighing something he already knows the answer to, like every instinct he’s ever trained himself to suppress is suddenly pressing forward at once.

And then, very slowly, he leans in, not rushed or desperate but careful, like he’s giving you every possible chance to stop him.

His lips meet yours in a quiet, restrained kiss, soft and uncertain at first, as if even this is something neither of you fully knows how to survive, something that exists somewhere between apology and relapse rather than anything close to peace.

And when he pulls back, there’s no relief in the space that follows, only the silent, heavy understanding that nothing between you has been fixed, only confirmed.

[elinabi]

girl im curious about which major’s finals week is keeping you away from us 😢

architecture is absolutely destroying me rn😭 im almost done with it thankfully, i will start writing my ass off (especially the requests on my inbox🙏🏻)

[elinabi]

Gurl pls don’t stop the noncon fics they’re soooo so good and please make y/n have more fierce and strong personality like don’t make her dumb and submissive so we have more fun ❤️❤️ thank u for u art u are A QUEEN

thank you & noted😝 if i survive my finals i will finally be active 🤞🏻🤞🏻

[elinabi]

Ooo yay! 💌 Do you think you could make a Sieun angst fic? I know you already wrote about him, or Kang Wooyoung if you don’t feel like writing Sieun again. Maybe just a really toxic relationship, arguing, violence (if you don’t write that then you can change it to something else) hint of abuse and manipulation? I want to read something so sad tjat it hurts my heart lol😭😭

Pretend - Yeon Sieun x F!Reader

pt. 2

CW: angst, dark themes, bullying, stalking, violence (not towards reader)

A/N: i kind of accidentally got carried away with this one and took it in a different direction, but i hope it still meets expectations <3

There had always been something unsettling about the way people underestimated Sieun. Your brother liked to laugh about it with his friends. It usually happened after school, when he came home with that same smug grin stretched lazily across his face, dropping his bag onto the kitchen floor while your mother scolded him half-heartedly for making noise.

“He just sat there and took it,” your brother had said once, shoving rice into his mouth as though he were recounting something trivial. “Seriously, he’s like some creepy little robot. No reaction. Nothing.”

You had frowned from your seat across the table. “Who?”

“That weird kid. Sieun.” The name had meant nothing to you then. Your brother had rolled his eyes when you asked why they bothered him. “Because he acts like he’s better than everyone.”

That was all the explanation he gave. And because your brother had always occupied your life with an overwhelming sort of certainty, because he had always spoken as though his version of events was the only version worth hearing, you had accepted it without question. You never asked more. You never knew that while your brother was dismissing it as harmless teasing, he and his friends had spent months making Park Sieun’s life miserable.

They switched his test papers before submission and laughed when teachers accused him of carelessness. They “accidentally” spilled ink over his notes. They cornered him in stairwells, mocked his silence, shoved him into lockers, called him names they knew he would never dignify with a response. And through all of it, Sieun had endured. He remained quiet as he waited and calculated.

The day everything changed, your brother had switched his answer sheet during a major exam. It had been almost laughably simple. A sleight of hand while the teacher’s back was turned.

It was enough to drag Sieun’s perfect score into failure, making even the teacher look disappointed. Sieun had stared at the marked paper for a long moment, with an unreadable expression. Then his head slowly swiveled up, his gaze turning towards your brother. And for the first time, your brother saw it. His eyes weren’t filled with anger nor humiliation. It was something colder, distant; filled with the kind of silence that made people uneasy without understanding why.

His body stayed completely still despite the rage boiling within his veins. He kept his composure through his bullies snickering and teasing stares.

That afternoon, as students poured through the school gates in loose, noisy streams, Sieun stepped outside with his bag slung over one shoulder and saw your brother standing near the entrance. Sieun narrowed his eyes onto his form as he examined him patiently. He was waiting for someone.

You appeared moments later, weaving through the crowd toward him with your usual absentminded clumsiness, nearly dropping the books in your arms before your brother caught them with a laugh. He flicked your forehead as you swatted his hand away. And for a brief second, your brother’s entire expression softened. It was subtle, but Sieun made sure to caught it. And just like that, an idea slipped into place.

That night, he found your social media in under ten minutes. Your profile was public, an easy access for information. He rummaged through your page, learning everything quickly. Your favorite books, the café drinks you posted every Thursday, the library you checked into three evenings a week. The way you reviewed novels in long, overly earnest paragraphs, the playlists you shared. The little details that made a person feel knowable.

His finger stilled against the scroll wheel of his mouse the moment the screen shifted to a new post. A selfie filled the display, and his breath caught almost imperceptibly. There he was, your brother, the one who had made his life a calculated kind of hell, grinning smugly into the camera. And beside him stood you, your smile bright and guileless, your expression lit with an innocence so untouched by cruelty that it felt almost jarring against the darkness your brother carried so effortlessly.

And when he realized exactly who you were, his bully’s younger sister, his plan became clear.

He would hurt him for every bruise, every humiliation, every moment he had forced Sieun to endure in silence. And he would do it in the cruelest way possible, not by striking back at him directly, but through the one person foolishly untouched by any of it. Through you, his trusting, gullible little sister.

 —

For six evenings, he sat across from you in the library. You noticed him on the second. The boy with the pale face and unreadable expression who always sat by the opposite window, a stack of books arranged with clinical precision in front of him. He never allowed his gaze to linger on you for more than a fleeting second, offering only the briefest of glances before returning to his book, as though your presence were nothing more than a quiet acknowledgment. Sometimes, when your eyes happened to meet, he would give a small, almost imperceptible nod, subtle enough to feel accidental, yet deliberate enough to plant a strange sense of familiarity between you.

It was the kind of familiar acknowledgment shared between strangers who occupy the same spaces often enough to become part of each other’s routine.

On the seventh evening, he sets a book down carefully atop the polished wooden table, the motion so casual it would have gone unnoticed by anyone else. But your eyes catch the familiar cover almost instantly. It was your favorite novel, the exact collector’s edition you had once posted about online, captioned with a dramatic complaint about how impossible it was to find.

Your breath catches on your throat.

For a moment, all you could do is stare, your fingers tightening around the edge of your own book as your mind scrambled to process the coincidence. Then, before hesitation could stop you, the words slipped out.

“That one’s impossible to find.”

The quietness of your tone seemed to ripple through the stillness between you. He lifts his gaze slowly, as though mildly surprised to hear you speaking to him at all. His expression remains unreadable for half a second, and then he glances down at the book before meeting your eyes again.

“It wasn’t easy.”

There was something understated about the way he said it, absent of any boastfulness, as though he were simply stating a fact.

A smile tugged at your lips before you could stop it, and then he smiled too.

It was small, almost hesitant, the faintest curve of his mouth, restrained enough to seem natural and yet deliberate enough to send an inexplicable warmth blooming through your chest. It was the kind of smile that felt earned, as though you had somehow coaxed it out of him, and that thought alone was enough to make your pulse flutter.

That is how it begins.

At first, you convince yourself it is nothing more than a coincidence stretched into familiarity, the kind of quiet connection that forms so naturally it barely seems worth questioning. Conversation slips into your routine with an ease that feels almost inevitable. What starts as brief exchanges across the library table slowly unfolds into something deeper, threading itself through the ordinary rhythm of your days before you even realize it has taken root.

Library meetings turn into coffee afterward, the two of you lingering in quiet little cafés long after your cups have gone cold, talking in low voices as evening settles beyond the windows. Coffee becomes slow walks home beneath the amber glow of streetlights, where the pauses between your conversations never feel awkward, only comfortable, as though silence itself has learned how to accommodate the two of you. And somehow, without either of you ever acknowledging the shift, those walks become late-night texts that stretch long past midnight, conversations about books and classes and scattered thoughts that feel too personal to tell anyone else.

Sieun is unlike anyone you have ever known.

He listens in a way that makes you feel as though every word matter, as though nothing you say is ever too trivial to deserve his attention. Not the absent-minded kind of listening people offer while waiting for their turn to speak, but the kind that is deliberate, attentive, almost unnervingly precise. He absorbs every detail and carries it with him as though he cannot bear to let it be forgotten.

He remembers things even you barely recall telling him.

The name of the cat you had when you were seven.

The exact date of your chemistry exam.

The offhand comment you once made about rereading tragic endings because they make you feel less alone somehow.

And then, without fanfare, he lets those details resurface in ways that leave your chest tightening with quiet wonder.

When you mention struggling with calculus one evening, frustrated enough to joke that failing might be less painful than trying to understand it, he arrives at the library the next day with pages of handwritten notes. Every formula is broken down with meticulous precision, each explanation arranged so neatly it looks as though it belongs in a textbook. The margins are filled with annotations in his careful handwriting, little clarifications and examples written solely with you in mind.

You stare at the pages, momentarily speechless.

“You did all this for me?”

He only shrugs, his expression unreadable, “It wasn’t difficult.”

But your fingers linger against the paper as warmth unfurls slowly through your chest, because no one has ever made effort look so effortless. No one has ever made this much effort for you.

And then there are your friends.

At first, they tease you lightly whenever you decline another invitation, all knowing smiles and raised brows when they ask if you are ditching them for your mysterious library boy again. You laugh it off, pretending not to notice the knowing glances they exchange.

But the teasing grows sharper, the questions more pointed.

One evening, after your third canceled plan in two weeks, one of them mutters that maybe you are getting a little too attached.

You tell Sieun about it later, trying to sound amused, though the comment lingers unpleasantly in your mind.

He is quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the darkening street ahead of you.

Then he tilts his head slightly and says, his tone low and calm, “You don’t have to force yourself to be around people who exhaust you.”

The words are simple. Reasonable, even. And yet something about the way he says them, so certain, so quietly reassuring, settles over you like permission. After that, canceling plans becomes easier as the guilt fades faster each time.

And somewhere in the quiet spaces he carves open for himself within your life, your world begins to narrow until, without quite realizing when it happens, it starts revolving around him.

Weeks became months. He became the first person you wanted to text in the morning. The last person you thought about before sleeping. The person whose approval mattered enough to reshape yourself around it.

You opened up to him in pieces. About how your brother’s shadow had always stretched too large over your life. How everyone knew you as his sister before they knew your name, and how lonely that felt.

Sieun would watch you with those dark, unreadable eyes and say softly, “You deserve to be seen for yourself.” Every time he spoke with the hint of tenderness in his voice, something inside you melted.

You never notice the guilt that crosses his face after moments like that, too caught in the warmth of his attention to recognize it for what it is. It begins as something small, barely there at first, slipping quietly through the cracks of a plan he once carried out with ruthless certainty. It settles itself into him in the quietest moments, in the space after your laughter fades, in the seconds after your fingers brush his when he passes you a cup of coffee, in the late hours of the night when your name appears across his screen and his chest tightens for reasons he refuses to examine too closely.

And he hates it. He hates the way your smile no longer feels like a victory.

He hates the way he catches himself rereading your messages long after the conversation has ended, his thumb hovering uselessly over the screen as though there is something more he wants to say.

He hates how the sound of your laughter, bright and unguarded, sometimes makes him forget entirely why he sought you out in the first place.

Most of all, he hates the realization that takes shape slowly and then all at once, impossible to ignore once it has fully formed.

If things had been different, if your brother had not made himself into something Sieun needed to destroy, if revenge had never planted itself between the two of you like rot beneath polished floorboards, then perhaps this could have been real.

Perhaps he could have loved you honestly. The thought sickens him.

Because by the time he allows himself to name it, the lie has already stretched too far to be undone.

It has woven itself through every moment between you, through every smile, every conversation, every late-night confession whispered into the glow of a phone screen. To unravel it now would mean confronting the truth of what he has done, and Park Sieun has never been the kind of person to flinch from cruelty once he has committed himself to it.

So, he buries whatever softness has begun taking root inside him and forces himself to remember.

He forces himself to remember the exam papers your brother stole and tampered with, the bruises blooming dark beneath the sleeves of his uniform where no teacher would think to look, the quiet humiliation of standing under accusing stares for things he had never done, and above all, the sharp echo of your brother’s laughter carrying through empty hallways as though every moment of his suffering had been nothing more than entertainment.

And as though sensing the quiet fracture beginning to form within him, your brother only pushes harder.

It is as though he cannot stand the thought of Sieun remaining untouched, and so he keeps escalating, keeps provoking, keeps digging at wounds that have never truly healed.

Until eventually, there comes a night when something inside Sieun finally snaps.

And with it, everything the two of you have built splinters beyond repair.

—

A text from Sieun arrives a little after eight.

Come to the old storage lot behind the academy. It’s important. I’m hurt.

The moment your eyes land on the message, your stomach drops.

You call him immediately, your thumb trembling so badly that you nearly miss the button. The line rings once. Twice. Three times. No answer.

A sharp wave of panic surges through you so suddenly it leaves your hands shaking. You barely manage to grab your coat before rushing out the door, your thoughts tangling into frantic, incoherent possibilities with every second that passes unanswered.

The cold night air cuts harshly against your skin as you run, each breath tearing through your lungs in ragged bursts. Dread coils tighter inside your chest with every step, heavy and suffocating, until it feels impossible to breathe around it.

By the time you reach the abandoned storage lot behind the academy, your heart is pounding so violently it drowns out everything else.

And then you see it.

Your brother lies sprawled across the cracked pavement, motionless except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. One of his friends is slumped a few feet away, letting out a low groan before forcing himself upright. The second his eyes meet yours, he pales, scrambling clumsily to his feet before bolting into the darkness without a word. The others are already gone.

And there, beside your brother’s crumpled body, sits Sieun. He is perfectly still.

Blood drips in slow, deliberate drops from split knuckles onto the concrete below, staining the ground dark beneath his hands. His uniform is disheveled, his hair slightly mussed, a faint bruise beginning to darken along the sharp line of his jaw.

For one dizzying, breathless second, relief crashes through you. He is alive. The thought floods your chest so powerfully that your knees nearly buckle. Then he lifts his head.

And the moment your eyes meet his, something inside you turns to ice. There is no fear in his expression, no relief at seeing you. Only a stillness so cold and deliberate that it sends a sharp chill racing down your spine, as though some instinct buried deep within you is suddenly screaming that the boy you thought you knew is nowhere to be found.

You stumble toward him, panic colliding chaotically in your chest.

“Oh my god—Sieun, what happened?”

Before you can reach him, he rises in one swift, fluid motion, so sudden it makes you instinctively falter. His hand lashes out without hesitation, fingers closing around your arm with a grip so tight it instantly sends pain flaring through your skin as you let out a startled gasp.

For a split second, your mind refuses to process what is happening. Then he yanks you forward.

The force of it sends you stumbling helplessly toward him before he shoves you down beside your brother’s unconscious form. Your knees slam hard against the unforgiving pavement, sharp pain shooting upward on impact. The sting barely registers over the wave of confusion that crashes through you so violently it steals the breath from your lungs.

“S-Sieun…?”

Your voice comes out thin and trembling, fractured by disbelief as your eyes start to water.

Slowly, you lift your head to look at him. He stares down at you before he smiles.

It is not the smile you knew, the small, careful curve of his lips that had once made warmth bloom softly through your chest. There is no trace of quiet fondness in it, no familiar restraint that had always made his rare smiles feel precious.

This one is something else entirely, it is filled with an underlying cruelity.

For one terrible moment, all you can do is stare, your pulse roaring in your ears as the horrifying realization begins to unfurl inside you.

You do not know the boy standing in front of you. Maybe you never did.

He speaks up, his tone distant and sharp, “Do you know how easy this was?” The words hit you like a slap. You blink rapidly, tears spilling unchecked down your flushed cheeks, but they do nothing to clear the dizzying swell of confusion still crashing through you, thick and suffocating, leaving you grasping desperately for some explanation that will make sense of the boy standing before you. You retort, trying to steady your shaky voice. “What?”

A quiet laugh slips past his lips. It is soft enough to almost sound gentle, but there is something in it that makes your stomach twist, a note of cold disbelief laced with something dangerously close to pity.

“You really never figured it out.” Slowly, he crouches in front of you, lowering himself until he is close enough for you to see the dark crimson drying across his knuckles, close enough for you to notice the faint rise and fall of his chest, steady and controlled in stark contrast to the frantic pounding of your own heart. “This was planned from the very beginning.”

For a moment, the world seems to tilt beneath you. Your lips part, but no sound comes out. The words catch somewhere in your throat, strangled by the sharp wave of disbelief crashing through your chest.

Sieun continues as though he is simply reciting facts, his voice calm and measured, each word delivered with deliberate precision, “Your brother ruined my grades. He sabotaged my work. He thought he could keep doing it and never face consequences.”

His gaze flickers briefly toward your brother’s motionless form sprawled across the pavement, his expression remaining maddeningly unreadable.

“So, I decided to take something from him,” his unforgiving eyes return to yours, “You.”

The single syllable strikes with enough force to hollow out your chest. A sharp, broken sound escapes you.

“No.” Your voice cracks under the weight of it, trembling violently as you shake your head. “No, that’s not—”

“I saw him with you outside the school gates.”

He cuts through your denial effortlessly, his tone still terrifyingly composed.

“I looked you up that same night.”

Every word peels away another layer of the life you thought the two of you had built together.

“I learned where you studied. What books you liked. I knew exactly when you would be at the library,” his gaze does not waver, “I sat across from you because I already knew what would catch your attention. I knew exactly what to say.”

The memories crash into you all at once; the collector’s edition of your favorite novel, the carefully measured glances, the effortless conversations that had once felt so achingly genuine. And in a single horrifying instant, every treasured moment twists into something unrecognizable. None of it had been accidental. Every smile, every text, every detail he had remembered so perfectly had been carefully calculated, a cruel performance designed for one purpose alone: to earn your trust just deeply enough to shatter it.

“You’re lying,” you whisper weakly. For one impossible moment, pain flickers across his irises before it hardens.

“Am I?” He leaned closer. “Did you really think someone could love someone as naive as you?”

Your tears spill rapidly, hot and humiliating, blurring your vision as you shake your head frantically, as though denial alone might somehow unravel the truth standing so mercilessly in front of you.

Sieun lets out a quiet exhale, almost amused. He speaks again, his voice lowered a few octaves now, “Do you know what was almost embarrassing to watch?,” he tilts his head, studying your shattered expression with detached cruelty, “How quickly you isolated yourself the second I made you think your friends didn’t understand you. How easily you lied to your family just because I gave you a little attention. How desperately you handed over every pathetic little insecurity you had, practically begging me to use them,” he leans closer, his gaze unrelenting, “You made this disgustingly easy.”

Each sentence lands with surgical precision, stripping away what little dignity your heartbreak has left.

His eyes flick over your trembling frame before settling back on your tear-streaked face.

“You really thought any of this meant something?,” he lets out a scornful laugh, “God, you were easier to fool than I thought.”

Your chest constricted so violently it hurt to breathe. All you could think about were the tiny moments you had treasured, and the fact that none of it had been real.

You were crying openly now, shoulders shaking. And for the first time that night, Sieun’s composure falters. It is subtle enough that anyone else might have missed it; the slight tightening of his jaw, the near-imperceptible twitch of his hand at his side, as though some instinct buried deep within him is fighting to reach for you, to take back everything he has just said before it can settle permanently between you.

For a fleeting moment, it almost looks as though he might. But then the hesitation disappears.

His expression hardens, whatever softness had threatened to surface vanishing beneath the cold armor he has spent months perfecting.

“You were never anything more than revenge.” The words leave him clipped and sharp, spoken with the kind of finality that severs whatever fragile thread still exists between the two of you.

Through the blur of tears clouding your vision, you stare at him desperately, searching his face for something, anything, that resembles the boy you had fallen for.

And then you see a flicker momentarily. Something raw and fractured passing through his dark eyes so quickly it is almost gone before you can fully recognize it.

Regret.

It lasts less than a heartbeat, but it is enough. Enough to force the cruelest truth into devastating clarity. Somewhere along the way, he had cared, something real had taken root despite everything he had intended. But he had destroyed it regardless.

The realization carves through you more brutally than any insult he has thrown your way.

Because if he had never felt anything, then this would have been simple cruelty, easier to dismiss as emptiness. But he had felt it. He had known exactly what this would do to you.

And he had chosen to break you anyway.

[elinabi]

hello! I love your work and I was wondering if you are going to continue the latest fanfic you wrote, it was the one with Sieun and Wooyoung just mentioned in it.

hi🫶🏻 it started as a one-shot so i probably won’t continue it 😞 i’m currently working on something with wooyoung!

[elinabi]

Hi! Do you only make dark content or do you also make angsty written fics for requests? Just read all your fics and you write so well oh my🤲🏼🤲🏼

tysmm🫶🏻 im very versatile about fics so feel free to send any kind!!

[elinabi]

Instead of Me - Yeon Sieun x F!Reader

You drift from the person who knew you best into a world you can’t control, and when Si-eun finally catches up, there’s no escaping what comes next.

CW: MDNI, dark themes, non-consensual sexual content, creampie, unprotected sex, degradation, violence, obsession.

A/N: kang woo-young is mentioned. this was requested.

You chug down the last bits of your food as Sieun’s silence fills the local restaurant. You scour at his face for a bit while he refuses to start a conversation. You clear your throat before speaking up in a cheerful demeanor.

“So, how is it going with your new friends at school? Ready to replace me yet?” He frowns slightly as he takes your joke seriously. “I would never replace you. I’m not really sure if I’ll get along with them anyway.”

You tilt your head, followed by a light smile. “Sieun… I’ve known you since we’re little kids. You’re always quick to judge when making new friends.”

Sieun averts his gaze anywhere else than your persistent eyes as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He opens his mouth to argue, but no words come out as he narrows his eyes at the cut marks on your arm. When your gaze follows his, you quickly pull your sleeve over your arm, avoiding his tense expression.

“Why are you injured?” he asks, his tone laced with worry.

“I um.. my arm scraped against the dresser.” You let out a nervous laugh before checking your watch. “I really should get going.” You hurriedly pull out some cash and place it on the table. Without giving Sieun a chance to pester further, you leave the restaurant with quickened steps. When your phone buzzes, you stop momentarily. A message from Woo-young lights up your screen: We got another one. Come to my place.

You purse your lips as you look around and change your direction towards Woo-young’s spot, completely unaware of Sieun’s piercing gaze from afar.

—

You tug your hood lower as you walk, examining your surroundings carefully. The sun had already dipped below the buildings, leaving only the illuminating glow of streetlights and the bite of evening cold seeping through your jacket.

When a bus stop comes into your view, you slow down, teeth pressing into your lip as your eyes flicker around. You desperately hoped nobody would be around.

Your gaze darts towards the secluded street as you walk towards it hurriedly, without hesitation. When you hear groans coming from the narrow alley, your lips curve upward into a small smile. You were right on time. You quickly pull out your phone's camera as your eyes meet the guy on the floor. Collapsed on the ground, barely able to move while he writhes, blood smeared across his face as the guys from your team circle him like a routine.

 “Keep recording his miserable ass.”

Woo-young’s amused tone cut through the beaten man’s whines as he takes slow and deliberate steps towards you. You stop the recording only when he gets close enough to block your view. He lets out a quiet chuckle, reaching up to push your hood back before ruffling your hair.

“Nice work.” Before you can respond, a sharp voice shouts towards your team’s direction. A voice that sounded too familiar.

“Get away from him!” Your shoulders tense instantly, praying that the person is not who you think is as you slowly glance back. Your chest tightens; eyes widening as they meet non-other than Yeon Sieun. For a second, he just looks at you. Not the others. Not the guy on the ground, you. His gaze flicks over you; your hands, your face, the phone still in your grip. Taking everything in, calculating. Then his expression shifts unremarkably to something darker along with confusion, intensifying by the second. And something else, something you’ve never seen directed at you before.

Before any of the guys could close in on him with their fists, Woo-young calls out with a firm tone, “We should get moving.” His hand clamp around your arm, dragging you in the opposite direction of Sieun. You force yourself to look away from Sieun’s narrowed gaze, unaware of his deep scowl while allowing Woo-young to pull you away.

After you, along with your team meets with the boss and take the share of your money, you amble towards your apartment through the chill of the night. Your mind wanders back to Sieun, sighing as you make up a ton of lies to come up with. As you climb up the stairs while trying to will your thoughts away, a figure crouched on your doorstep makes you stop in your tracks. You take a step back and activate the hallway lights, revealing your dear friend. Letting a frown take over your expression, you speak up after taking a deep breath.

“Sieun. What are you doing here?”

He stands up slowly as he maintains a steady expression. “Am I not allowed to drop by your house?”

You blink a few times, letting silence fill the hall before your soft voice cuts through it. “No, of course not.” You force a small smile to form on your lips as you aim towards the door. Your keys clink faintly as you unlock the door, his heavy presence evident in an unyielding manner. Slipping inside, you leave the door slightly ajar for Si-eun to follow.

“Take a seat, I’ll bring some tea.” He quickly retorts with a harsh tone. “No need. We need to talk immediately.”

You let out a deep exhale, feeling frustration settle within the bellows of your stomach. “I believe I don’t need an explanation for earlier, it was a simple encounter.”

“A simple encounter?,” He speaks up with disbelief, A flicker of fire igniting within his irises. “You call that a simple encounter? Me catching you in a guilty state? What kind of a sick relation you have to Kang Woo-young anyways?”

You let your voice raise slightly in response as you frown at him, “I don’t understand how this concerns you in any way.” He takes a step towards you as his eyes widen. “Of course it concerns me when I care about you this much.” You grit your teeth, turning your head away for a moment before meeting his hurt gaze with fury. “Then don’t. I’m tired of your pestering while I’m clearly doing nothing but making money.”

He swiftly grabs your arm and holds it up, revealing your vague scars. “If this is your way of making money, then I suppose I’ve never known you until now.” You quickly retract your arm, feeling rage boil within your veins upon hearing his words. “Well, you clearly haven’t.”

Sieun lets silence fill between you two momentarily, his voice dropping a few octaves. “But Woo-young has?”

You let out a deep exhale before responding, “You are unbelievable Sieun. Just,” You shake your head with a slight roll of your eyes, “please just leave.”

He immediately takes a few steps back, narrowing his eyes as he searches your face for any reaction other than anger. When he finds none, he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him, leaving you alone in your dimly lit apartment with a pang of remorse in your chest.

_

The following days pass in a haze as you start pulling away from Sieun, taking on more work with Woo-young instead. With you and Woo-young at the same school, lunch with him becomes routine, replacing the ones you used to share with Sieun. It isn’t long before rumors start; first at your school, then making their way to his.

“Have you seen Woo-young’s new chick?”

Sieun’s head snaps up from his plate to his friend’s words. Around him, utensils clink against trays, the noise of the cafeteria bleeding back in as his expression hardens into a frown.

“No.” He retorts quickly, gritting his teeth as he silently hopes you weren’t the “chick” his friend was mentioning about.

The friend pulls out his phone for a photo. “Here-" When the screen light hits Sieun’s gaze, he feels his throat run dry.

It’s you. Standing beside Woo-young, his arm slung over your shoulders like it belongs there. Like you belong there. Like you’re nothing more than something casual to him.

Blood rushes to his head as he pushes back from his seat, standing abruptly before pacing out of the cafeteria. The noise around him dulls, reduced to a faint ringing in his ears, his own breathing sharp and uneven. The voice of his friend calling out to him fades into a distant, vague sound, along with the chatter in the cafeteria. He heads straight to your school with determined steps.

_

You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand as you huff, giving the floor one last sweep. Having cleaning duty today wasn’t as easy as you’d expected. You glance at the clock on the wall, 4 p.m. You mutter a curse under your breath, two full hours gone by just to finish, all the other students long gone to the comfort of their own spaces. You set the supplies aside and amble toward your bag, ready to leave the school, now devoid of sound except for the faint breeze.

Then you hear it. Slow and deliberate footsteps, at a time when there shouldn’t be any. You feel a strange feeling of unease creeping into you as you swivel your head towards the direction of the sound, facing the classroom door, your frown deepening by the second. Your breath hitches at the squeaking sound of the door as it’s pushed open.

“Ah, sorry to interrupt, I think I forgot my notebook on my desk.”  You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath in as you attempt to calm yourself while your classmate heads towards her seat. When you feel a little clearer, you let out the breath you had been holding in, fanning the air out slowly as you try to relax the tension on your shoulders, why were you so worked up for anyway?

She quickly murmurs another apology before slipping out through the door. You turn back toward your bag, the weight of the day finally catching up to you. But before your fingers can even reach the handle, a warm hand clamps over your mouth from behind in a swift motion.

Your body abruptly stiffens. For a split second, pure, unfiltered panic surges through you, sharp and suffocating, your breath caught against a palm as your mind blanks, every instinct screaming at once. Your nails scratch against the stranger’s hand, eliciting a hiss from the male as you let out a muffled scream. Your heart slams violently against your ribs as you try to inhale, but the grip is firm, unyielding, dragging you back into a solid chest. No. Not like this. The panic doesn’t last; it can’t.

You force the hand down harshly, grounding yourself in the pressure, your thoughts snapping back into place with practiced precision. You twist your wrist upward, fingers digging into his hand as you shift your weight sharply to the side, just enough to destabilize the hold and drive your elbow back. It lands square against his stomach.

You feel the solid impact travel up your arm effectively. He mutters a curse under his breath as his grip falters, not completely, but enough for you to wrench yourself forward, tearing free as you stumble out of his hold. You spin around immediately, breath uneven, chest rising and falling as adrenaline floods your system, and you freeze when your gaze meets Yeon Sieun. He returns your look with a tinge of restrained fury in his eyes.

For a split second, something flickers across your expression; shock, recognition, something dangerously close to hesitation, and that’s your mistake. He quickly moves first this time. His hand shoots out, catching your wrist before you can react fully, grip tightening with precise control as he pulls you back toward him. You try to regain your composure as you use the pull instead of thrashing against it.  Your leg snaps up, fast and sharp, your knee driving toward his side with intent; less brute force, more calculation, aiming for impact over strength.

Your strike is not clean enough to take him down, but enough to make him shift again, enough to break the balance between you.

You twist out of his grasp the second his hold loosens while you push with everything you have. Sieun’s eyes threaten to widen as he flies backward and hits the desk with a sharp thud. Without wasting a second, you run, the door just a few steps away, yet somehow too far all at once.

Your fingers stretch toward the handle, pulse roaring in your ears, every instinct screaming at you to get out, to move, to not let him close the distance again. You’re almost there before pain explodes across your scalp. A sharp, brutal force yanks you backward as Sieun’s hand fists into your hair, dragging you off your momentum so suddenly your breath leaves you in a broken gasp.

Your hand slips from the handle. And before you can recover, your head slams into the wall.

The impact is jarring, a dull crack that sends a violent shock through your skull. Your vision fractures instantly, black spots bursting across your sight as a high-pitched ringing floods your ears, drowning everything else out. Your knees buckle, for a moment, your body doesn’t respond the way you need it to. Your fingers twitch uselessly at your side, your balance gone, your thoughts scattering as the pain pulses through your head in sharp, relentless waves.

You hate this. You hate the way your body lags behind you.

Behind you, his grip in your hair tightens just enough to keep you upright, to keep you exactly where he wants you, caught between resistance and collapse. Your breathing turns uneven, shallow, your chest rising too fast as you try to force yourself back into focus, to push past the disorientation clawing at your senses.

The pressure in your scalp suddenly shifts unrelentingly as he yanks you back, not enough to knock you off your feet, but enough to make your balance falter all over again. A strained gasp slips past your lips as your head is forced back, your vision still swimming, your body a step too slow to catch up.

You try to react anyway as your hand shoots up, fingers wrapping around his wrist, nails digging in as you try to pry him off, to relieve even a fraction of the pull, but he doesn’t let go. If anything, his grip tightens deliberately like he’s testing just how much force it takes to keep you there.

“Stop—” the word barely forms, breath catching halfway as he moves again.

A sharp thud fills the classroom. Your body is pulled forward this time, momentum stolen from you as he drags you a step before forcing you down, your hands barely catching yourself against the edge of a desk as he bends you over it. The impact rattles through your arms. Your palms press hard against the surface, fingers splaying for balance as your breath stutters again, your head still throbbing, your thoughts lagging just behind your body.

The male clicks his tongue, sounding a little impatient as he starts, “You fucking bitch. Instead of me, you chose Woo-young?,” he seethes, pressing you onto the desk harshly as you stare at him in bewilderment, “I didn’t think you’d stoop this low.”

A swell of confusion and panic builds in the pits of your stomach while you speak up, “W-what are you talking about?” Without giving you any time to speculate further on his words, he leans down, his voice barely above a whisper on your ear, “Now you’ll pay, for all the times you led me on.” His words send a shiver down your spine, and you roll your eyes upwards to meet his gaze once more, noticing his strange, unreadable expression despite the slight smile on his face.

When you feel his free hand bunch up your skirt up clumsily, your breath hitches in your throat, your eyes threatening to widen in realization as you feel your muscles tense. He rips your delicate undergarment and you gather the last bit of strength within you as you struggle against him. “Sieun, please! You’ve got it all wrong—”

He quickly retorts with a low, almost dangerous tone, “Shut the fuck up. You’ll take exactly what I want you to take.” When you hear the faint click of his belt buckle and the zip of his trousers coming undone, you begin to panic, anxiety flooding your system, surging from your head to the tips of your fingers, like electricity running through you.

You feel him graze himself against your folds briefly, pressing against your bundle of nerves. You feel his hands run up the sides of your legs before landing by your ass, giving you a firm squeeze while he continues his ministrations. You hear him whimper, feeling a wetness build between your thighs involuntarily as liquid fire flooded your veins.

He slowly pushes against you, your legs quivering when you feel the head of his cock press against your entrance before sliding in smoothly, eliciting a moan from both you and Sieun. He takes his time, enjoying the feeling of his cock around your walls as he pressed deeper into your cunt, your face feeling hotter as you feel every inch of him twitch within you. You let out a small whimper when he reaches the end of your pussy, the tip of his head now pressing firmly against your cervix, buried balls deep into you. You shiver, keeping your hands firm on your sides as you tighten around him, pleasure flooding you when he moves his hips just a little bit in reaction to your tightening. He presses his digits into the skin of your ass as he grinds against you, stirring your insides with every shift of his hips, causing you to moan.

 “I’m going to make sure you regret your actions,” Sieun whispers, before suddenly forcing your hips all the way down on his cock, “love.” You let out a raw scream, feeling unaccustomed to the size of his dick inside your pussy, it feels painful. Feeling heat rising to your face, and feeling tears prick your eyes, you whine, clenching your fists as moans escape your throat. “I’ll use this body of yours,” Sieun whispers, his voice sounding husky when it falls on your ears, “since you want attention so badly, you can have all of it,” he scoffs, pressing his fingers deeper into the skin of your hips, keeping a bruising weight on them, “this is what you wanted, right? To be fucked by me?”

 You hazily shake your head while his cock goes deeper into your pussy, “S-Sieun,” you moan, feeling tears leave your eyes as you cling onto the desk as though your life hand depended on it, “please stop, it hurts–!”

 “Good then, maybe we can have you learn a little. Don’t you love it anyway,” Sieun huffs, feeling your liquids seep out onto his cock with every punishing thrust he gives you, “the pain from how well my cock stretches you out?” You can’t help but tighten at his words, earning a low groan from him as he pulls your hair locks, hitting your deepest parts while he arches your back and bites into the skin of your neck. 

You feel your mind growing fuzzier with each passing second as his pace quicken. His free hand rise to meet your neck, pressing tightly around your throat, choking you a little. Despite feeling the pressure of his hands around your neck, you tighten to the feeling of his cock in you as he rotated his hips to hit you at different angles. When he repeatedly brushes up against a spot within you, you continuously shake, letting out strings of moans as you throw your head back, feeling your legs shake, threatening to collapse completely. 

 “Needy little slut,” Sieun hums, sounding happy with himself as he gazes at you endearingly, a smile on his lips as he tilts his head, focused on your expression of bliss, “are you going to cum around the cock you claim to hate?” Despite how happy he looks right now, his words are somewhat sharp.

 You tremble, listening to his words as you shut your eyes, clenching your teeth while you try to deny the pleasure.  “Go on,” he coos, raising a hand to knead one of your clothed breasts, causing you to hum in pleasure, “cum for me.”

 Sieun groans when he feels you tighten around him again as you become wetter, your liquids spilling out of you as he fucks you. You scream as he abruptly thrusts his hips upwards, meeting you with every roll of your hips. He growls as he thrusts into you, the skin of your ass slapping across his lower half becoming louder as he quickened his pace once more.

He grunts as he feels your cunt close up around his cock, and you gasp, your body shivering as he fucks you throughout your orgasm, not slowing down once for you, causing you to whimper as tears began to form in your eyes.

 “S-Sieun,” you say amidst your moans, “it’s too much..!” You gasp when he tugs at your hair, pulling you back as he continues his onslaught into you. With every thrust he gave you, you felt your pussy become more sensitive, threatening to cum around him again despite having just come. You were being overstimulated, to the point where you could hardly move anymore.

 “This is what you wanted,” he hisses, feeling his own orgasm approaching as he continues to relentlessly fuck into you, “this is what you deserve,” with one last thrust, he forces your hips down on his cock, groaning as he fills you up with his seed. You shiver, your hips shaking in his hold as you feel his cum drown your insides, the tip of his cock pressed firmly against your womb as he shoots deep inside of you.

He pants as his warmth seeps out of you while he rests momentarily. When he lets go of the hold he has on you, you collapse on the floor, feeling tears forming at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill as you shut your eyes and catch your breath.

Sieun shifts his head, getting a better look at you, his eyes wandering across the plane of your face, examining your tear-stained cheeks along with your hazy expression, he grins. He crouches to your level before speaking up, his tone distant, “This isn’t over, it’ll never be.”

You tremble on the floor as he stands straight again and ambles towards the exit, leaving you in a wretched state, all alone in the cold classroom.

[elinabi]

After the Silence - Yeon Sieun x F!Reader

When your distance fractures Sieun, his silence turns into action.

CW: MDNI, dark themes, drugging, non-consensual sexual content, fingering, creampie, unprotected sex.

“Lastly, Yeon Sieun with…” your teacher’s voice echoes across the quiet classroom, snapping you out of your daydream.

You hear your name getting called out by your teacher, indicating the grouping.

Your class was assigned with a presentation, submitted by two people.

You turn to Sieun who’s sitting a couple of desks away from you, despite him not returning your gaze. He seems careless about who he’s grouped with.

Your friend nudges your side before whispering how lucky you are to be grouped with a “nerd”. You look at his tense back one last time before focusing back to your class.

The rest of the class blurs by. When the bell finally rings, you take a breath and head straight towards him.

Sieun’s gaze is glued to his textbook, earbuds in, completely in his own world. You sigh, thinking he is going to frustrate you from his lack of communication.

You tap your knuckles on his desk, hesitant at first.

His head shifts slightly, turning towards your hand. Then slowly, he takes both his earbuds off, putting it to his pocket. His eyes flick up from the page, waiting for you to speak. You take a deep breath before speaking up, keeping your voice friendly.

“Hi. Sorry for interrupting. I am your group partner. When and where should we meet for the project?”

He checks his watch, then speaks up, his tone coming out neutral, lacking any kind of emotion.

“Meet me at the school library at 6 p.m.”

You give a reassuring nod, then you leave to lunch.

—

Weeks pass. The meetings stretch longer, your notes turning into small talks, then quiet laughter between pages.

You start realizing how similar you are, enabling a friendship to form between you two.

Despite his occasional bugging, you could say.

You do like him as a friend, but sometimes he is too much.

“Why didn’t you call me back?”

“When are you going to be free?”

“You never spare time for me.”

“Who was that guy? Are you replacing me?”

Each question came laced with worry, but you told yourself it was harmless. He didn’t have many friends; you thought he just needed someone to rely on.

Until it became too much. Until the air around him started to feel heavy, leading into putting a distance between you and him. And he did not like that.

—

When the class bell rings, you’re the first to move. You pack up quickly, hoping to slip out before Sieun can corner you again. But as you stand, your pencil case slips from your hand and clatters to the floor, the sound filling the quiet classroom. You bend down to collect your scattered pens, but then, a shadow falls over you.

A pair of shoes. Familiar. Too familiar.

Your fingers freeze mid-reach. You slowly look up, meeting his eyes. Eyes that watch you intensely, like you’re a puzzle he can’t solve.

Everyone else is gone. Just you, and him, and the echo of the bell fading down the hall.

“Hey, Sieun.” Your voice comes out lighter than you feel. “What’s up?”

You straighten up slowly as you force a smile; friendly, harmless, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

He speaks up with a cold demeanor, tilting his head to the side while narrowing his eyes.

“I feel like you’re avoiding me.” His tone is flat, but the edge in it makes your pulse quicken.

You spurt out a nervous laugh.

“What? Me? Don’t be ridiculous.”

He studies you, his gaze flickers over your face, catching your sign of unease.

“Then come over today. Let’s spend some time together.”

He takes a step towards you, caging you between him and your desk. You can smell his perfume, that faint citrus you used to like. It makes your chest tighten. He speaks up again, his voice lowering a few octaves.

“I missed you.”

For a heartbeat, everything stands still; the air, the room, even your breath.

When he notices your hesitation, he softens his tone, the kind that slides into apologies without actually saying the word.

“We can study for the midterm; I’ll help you plentifully.”

You purse your lips, and after a few beats of silence pass between you two, you speak up.

“Alright, I could use some help.”

⸻

You place your textbooks on Sieun’s desk, waiting for him to prepare you a tea he insisted on. Your ears catch the faint sound of clattering utensils coming from the kitchen, then his footsteps follow.

When Sieun enters, he keeps his gaze on the mugs as he takes slow steps. You hum as you smell the faint lavender, thanking him after he places your mug in front of you.

You show him some of your questions, listening intently as he explains. When you take a generous amount of sip from the tea he prepared, you notice the way his irises gleam. Your eyebrows furrow slightly, unease blooming in your chest from the way he was acting.

He was quiet, but this time it felt different.

It was like he was studying you, your expression, the rise of your chest as you fill your lungs with air, the way your eyelids closed over your eyes.

It felt absurd, but you shrug it off, or at least tried to.

When you gulp the last bit of your tea, you feel a pang of headache, wincing as your brows tighten.

Sieun’s gaze flickers over your expression, speaking with feigned affection.

“Are you alright?”

You rub your temples, trying to ease the pain.

“Yeah, I—" You cut yourself off as you feel a wave of dizziness wash over you. You shut your eyes for a moment, weakly attempting to gather yourself as your mind whirls with panic, you were about to faint.

You hear Sieun’s fading voice as his hand comes up to your shoulder, steadying you to stay upright. You turn your gaze to him despite your darkening vision.

He was grinning. It was slight, hard to catch, but it was there. You frown deepens, and before you can reason his evident smile, the world goes completely dark.

⸻

When you regain your consciousness, your eyelids slowly flicker, adjusting to the dim lighting. A shiver runs through your body with the feeling of exposure to the chill of the night, like you had no sense of defense towards it.

You feel the bed dip, from another weight that didn’t belong to you.

You stir, quickly turning your gaze to the figure that is sitting on your bed.

“Sieun, what are you—"

Your head throbs, causing you to let out a wince. The air around you felt heavy and you felt dizzy, like you haven’t slept for days.

Unease blooms in your chest when you feel your hands below your resting back— you couldn’t move them. It takes you seconds to realize your hands were bound together, and when you look down, your eyes open wide.

You were exposed, left in nothing but your underwear. You try to sit up as panic whirls inside you, but your body refuses to do so.

While you try to reason why your body felt so heavy, Sieun speaks up, his voice low,

“You shouldn’t have ignored me, baby.” His hand came next, cupping your cheek with a false affection. You feel his thumb roll lightly against your skin.

You furrow your brows as your heart pounds against your ribcage, you realize you don’t even have the strength to pull away from his hand. You force yourself to speak, your voice spurting out raspy, laced with venom.

“What the hell is wrong with you—” Your voice falters, “Get away from me.”

His irises gleam with annoyance against your rejection as you feel his hand slightly twitch against your cheek.

He narrows his eyes, his gaze trailing down your body. You shift uncomfortably, being unable to cover yourself driving you wild.

His hand on your cheek slowly trails down, his fingers wrapping around your neck. He presses lightly, too light to choke you, but to warn you.

He leans closer towards your face before speaking up with a scowl on his lips, “Don’t test my patience. Be a good girl, or I’ll make you.”

Your breath hitches when you feel his hand cup your breast. He closes the distance between you and him, kissing you with frustration. He darts his tongue over your lips, and when you refuse him, he increases the pressure around your throat, forcing your lips to part. You feel him push his tongue inside your mouth as he pinches your nipple through your bra, making you let out a whimper.

Sieun pulls back, panting. He narrows his eyes on your features; your swollen lips, flushed cheeks, teary eyes. You breathe heavily, staying awake felt like a battle that you were going to lose. He grins slightly, knowing that the drug he had given you was working, igniting something darker in him.

He reaches for your panties, and without giving you a chance to react, he discards it. His index and middle finger reach to your kiss-bruised lips, parting them slightly.

“Open.”

You don’t find the strength to defy him, giving him access to push his fingers inside your mouth. He presses against your tongue, making you gag, letting out an approving hum.

After you wet his fingers, he trails them down to your folds, tracing your entrance teasingly. He speaks up, his voice breathy,

“You’re wet. It doesn’t seem like you hate this.”

You shake your head weakly, looking away from him to fixate your focus on anything but his ministrations. He frowns before intruding his fingers inside with a quick motion, eliciting a loud gasp from you. You clench your tied fists as he sets a rhythm, circling your sensitive bud in quick motions.

You feel your stomach coil as you dig your nails inside your palm. You screamed internally to not feed the unwanted pleasure Sieun provided— until he discovered a spot that made you moan out load. He lets out a reassuring hum as you hold yourself back, a last futile attempt to dissatisfy him.

But when he pinches your clit, you throw your head back with a moan, cursing under your breath as you clench around his fingers, wetting them with your release. He rides out your orgasm slowly before retreating his fingers, the loss of him making you let out a whine.

Without wasting any second, he reaches for your restraints and loosens them, your hands falling to your sides.

While you come down from your high with rigged pants, Sieun gets rid of his clothing and approaches your exhausted sprawled body. His hands grip your thighs, parting them slowly knowing that you had little to no strength left to resist him.

When you feel him graze his tip against your hole you whine, blurting out a ‘No’ which goes unheard. His eyes trail to your face, looking at you affectionately— almost like a lover. Almost like you were a couple, and this was an intimate moment laced with love.

You hear him groan as he slowly pushes inside, stretching you to his size. You cry out, accommodating to him drawing a pang of pain. His grip loosens from your thigh and trails up to your cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear that was streaming down your cheek. He rests his hand there momentarily, proceeding to stroke your hair.

Then, you see him smile. For the first time. You remember your failed attempts of making your friend smile heartedly.

He looked the happiest while he was buried inside you, looking at you warmly, while you took him without a choice.

Sieun sets an unsteady pace, his inexperience showed in the way his hips stuttered.

He lets out a grunt, his gaze roaming around every corner of your exposed body before he speaks up with rigged breaths.

“You feel so good, exactly how I imagined.”

He picks up his pace, chasing his release,

“Should’ve done this way earlier, before you decided to put on a stupid stunt.”

You feel Sieun’s hands grip your waist, pulling you towards himself, getting rougher by the second as he whimpers.

“Now you know what happens if you disappoint me, don’t you?”

Your eyes widen when you feel him twitch inside you, panic whirling inside your head, he was about to finish inside of you.

He lets out a curse, his head falling forward slightly.

You try to retreat yourself, but to no avail from the way his fingers gripped your waist. They were tight in a way that would bruise you the next day.

Before you can protest further, Sieun’s tongue rolls out your name with a moan, warmness flooding your insides.

You whine with quickened breaths, your eyelids flickering as you frown with exhaustion. He pulls out slowly, his gaze flickering towards his leaking release from your folds.

Then he looks up at you, in a warmth that you didn’t search for from him.

He pats your hair as he smiles once more, and he whispers through the dim light;

“I love you.”

[elinabi]

Where Her Eyes Land pt. 2

Your boyfriend’s anger is sudden and intense. You think you can handle it—until it takes a turn you weren’t ready for.

Pairing: Ahn Suho x Fem! Reader

Pt. 1

A/N: Can be read without part one.

CW: MDNI, dark themes, dubcon/noncon, psychological manipulation, degradation, creampie, unprotected sex, rough sex, oral (m receiving), praise and punishment dynamics, obsession.

Your door bangs aggressively, making you jump in your seat. Panic swirls in your chest, you were in trouble. In trouble for being a bit too close with your male friend.

You walk towards your door quickly, already knowing who is across that door. You take a deep breath and open the door, meeting with furious eyes that pierce through yours.

There, was your boyfriend. Ahn Suho.

After the night he almost killed your abusive ex boyfriend, you saw him as a home. Knowing he was ready to protect you all the time made your heart flutter. When he kissed you for the first time, one part of you was screaming at you to not do it, that you were vulnerable, and he was manipulating you. The other part in the other hand, craved someone to love after your heart was crushed to crumbs.

Suho knew what he was doing, every move was planned. Planned to make you succumb to him. He took note of your vulnerable parts after your toxic relationship, made sure to seem like a perfect band aid. He wouldn’t care if you weren’t over that bastard yet, as long as you were his.

And he succeeded. You kissed him back.

Maybe you wanted him too, that’s what you thought.

After a few months, you noticed how easily jealous he was. Jealous enough to distance you from your own friends.

You only had him. You didn’t live with your parents, and Suho found ways to make you fight with your friends. You felt all alone, until he gave you a warm embrace.

You couldn’t leave him, you were so in love, you thought, despite it being nothing else than attachment.

He greeted himself in, not giving you a chance to close the door. You step back as he towers over you.

“Who the hell is he?”

You explain him that how the guy is non-other than a friend, that the man across you is the love of your life. Which results into nothing. So you do the best you can. You kiss him. If it meant he would calm down, that he would at least listen to you properly, you would kiss him for hours.

That results to you be thrown to your bed, hickeys forming across your neck already.

You tell yourself to keep being good for him, you were scared of losing your only one.

He almost rips your clothes off, leaving you in your underwear.

“Get on your knees, now.”

You blink once, then twice. You hesitate. He notices.

“I haven’t even done anything to you yet, is it that hard to process what you’re told? Get on your fucking knees before I drag you by the hair.”

You quickly oblige, your eyebrows furrowed. You never heard him speak harshly towards you.

He gets rid of his clothing, taking his length in his hand, guiding his tip to your mouth, the other gripping your hair tightly.

“Stick your tongue out, come on.”

Your mouth falls open, tongue darting out. He slaps himself on your tongue before thrusting all the way in your throat. Your eyes open wide as you choke, your hands hitting his thighs while he puts on a quick pace. He grunts as he grabs both of your wrists and secures them against his stomach. You gag, not just from his tip hitting the back of your throat, but also from how you looked at the moment.

You seemed devoted to him, worshipping him, like a prayer.

You hated it.

His pace quickened, you knew he was close.

“If you waste a drop… I’ll make sure you regret that.”

With a deep groan, he empties himself down your throat, while you have no option but to swallow because of how deep he is.

You cough repeatedly after he pulls out, trying to seize your throat until he speaks up.

“Get on the bed. All fours.”

His voice is firm and commanding, giving you no room to complain.

When you follow his instructions, you hear a faint hum behind you. Suddenly, a sharp slap sound fills the room. Your ass burns as you wince.

“You sorry for earlier?”

He asks, his tone pressuring you into saying what he wants to hear.

“Yes. I am.”

“Then you shouldn’t defy me, is that right?”

“Yes.”

You answer quickly without thinking. You hear him scoff before reaching for the waistband of your panties.

“That’s a good slut.”

He quickly pulls it down past your ankles. Not giving you a chance to react, he presses between your shoulder blades, sinking your head to the pillow. When you feel him rub his tip against your folds, you flinch.

“Hey! Wait, wait. I’m not sure— “

“Shut the fuck up. You’re going to take what I give you.”

You feel him push, stretching you slowly.

“Or would you rather I break up with you, hm? Nobody would want you after me.”

Your eyes tear up as you feel him bottom up, instantly putting a punishing pace. You close your eyes, trying to think about anything but the pain he’s causing.

“Focus on me, baby.”

He reaches for your sensitive bud, circling it fast, making you moan out loud.

“That’s it, just like that. You’re getting wetter for me.”

You clench your fists, your stomach coils. You involuntarily clench around him, making him grunt. He knew you were close too. When he changes the angle of his hips, hitting your sweet spot, you cry out, finishing around his length.

His pace doesn’t falter, doesn’t let you ride out your orgasm, gripping your hips tightly to leave you no room to escape. Then he leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

“I’m going to fill you up so deep; you’ll leak my release for days.”

Your eyes widen as you start trashing around.

“No— Not inside, please no.”

“Yes baby, inside.”

He twitches inside you, moaning your name as he bursts out ribbons of cum inside. You slightly sob as he pulls out, his gaze directed at your leaking entrance as you lay completely flat against the bed with exhaustion.

He lays down next to you and opens his arms, a slight grin evident on his face.

“Shh come here. I’ll buy you a plan B tomorrow if you hate it that much.”

You sniff, and you listen. You slowly scoot to him, hugging him tightly as he returns your embrace. You hug him like he didn’t just ruin you. You hug him because who else is going to embrace you, comfort you other than him? You drift off to sleep as he murmurs that you’re his.

[elinabi]

Where Her Eyes Land -Ahn Suho x F!Reader

When Ahn Su Ho gets cornered in a rare moment of vulnerability, a classmate steps in—fearless, unshaken, and gone before he can ask her name. Su Ho becomes fixated, spiraling into a quiet obsession. But when he discovers she belongs to someone else, his need for her attention festers into something darker, something dangerous.

CW: obsessive behavior, violence, possessive thoughts, toxic relationship, mild physical abuse

The sun was bleeding out of the sky, throwing sharp shadows across the cracked concrete of the schoolyard. Su Ho’s breathing was steady, but inside, a low storm raged. The group had circled him—a pack snarling, eager to tear into the one who never flinched, who rarely lost.

“You think you can talk shit about us?” a voice sneered, cruel and loud enough to draw attention.

Su Ho said nothing. His eyes scanned, cold and calculating, the space between them a war zone he’d conquer in seconds if he chose. But this wasn’t about strength—it was about control.

A sudden voice cut through the tension—clear and calm, but with a strange weight that made the crowd falter.

“You promised me to meet after class. Why are you here?”

The group turned, confusion blooming. From nowhere, a girl stepped forward. Her stare was steady, unblinking, like she owned the moment despite being a stranger to all.

She turned her gaze to the boys, voice rising, flawless in its deception.

“This fight’s been filmed from the start. A teacher’s on their way.”

She wasn’t afraid to lie, for a classmate of hers whom she never had a conversation with.

The boys hesitated, uncertainty fracturing their confidence.

Su Ho’s arm moved before he realized, pulled gently by her steady hand. They slipped to the edge of the chaos.

She pressed two pink band-aids on his cheek and hand—soft touches that unsettled him more than any punch.

“You should go to the nurse,” she said softly, then left.

Su Ho stood there, the world feeling subtly shifted. No one had ever dared touch him like that. No one had stood by him.

From that day, Su Ho’s mind twisted and turned, returning again and again to the girl who didn’t flinch at him. Her fearless eyes haunted him. He watched her: how she tucked hair behind her ear, the curve of her smile, the way her presence filled the classroom. He watched her from across his seat, unnoticed but observant. Every glance, every quiet laugh, every small gesture burned into his thoughts.

Before he could have the chance to get to know her, he learned she had someone—a boyfriend. A fact that slowed his impulse but ignited something darker. The chase was no longer about getting close. It was about possession, even if silent.

Weeks later, a fight broke out in class. Voices rose, chaos bubbling under desks and chairs. Su Ho didn’t defend himself the way he would always do. He took blows intentionally, just enough to have some cuts, enough to get noticed by a certain girl.

He wanted her to come. To care. To say something. He was desperate for her slightest attention, to be taken care of without anything in return. He missed how she looked at him with the pang of worry, even though it lasted seconds.

But she didn’t. Didn’t even say a word. She did look, but without the worry that he craved. She knew he could fight his own battles.

She silently observed, and when she figured that he seemed okay, she turned her eyes away from him. Eyes worth burning the world down for, if only to keep them fixed on him.

And that only twisted the knife deeper.

One afternoon, on a narrow street near school, he saw her. Her boyfriend—hands raised in anger, words sharp and cruel. Then her boyfriend’s fist, quick and cruel, hitting hard.

Su Ho’s breath caught. Without thinking, he stepped in, fists flying with cold precision even after the boy passed out.

Even while she begged him to stop.

He looked into her eyes—dark, fierce, fragile.

“No need to thank me. You’ll be safe with me from now on.”