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𝖂𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊!<3

⁀➴𝐀𝐞𝐫𝐢𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ╰┈➤𝟐𝟏+ 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬ˎˊ˗ ⤷ "𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 ˎˊ˗

"my mama said big girls don't cry, it only hurts if you let it."

>heewonjake biased!<3 >almost every work is 18+, so please minors do not interact!

perm taglist. masterlist.

✧ requests: open

@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

[heesvnqie]

omg hi!! i’ve been waiting to request something but i could never get an idea!! so here’s what im thinking: jay with reader who has tourette’s? doesn’t have to be too detailed- but they’re doing the do and reader has an attack? like a wild attack and they’re flailing and maybe it’s the first time jay finds out about this? tysm!! i love ur blog <33

author: omg suree! why not? i love writing requests. i never wrote anything like this so hope you like it.

It's Okay-park jongseong

pairing: jay (park jongseong) × reader (you) word count: 1.3k+ warnings: insecurity, slow burn, smut,cussing, biting/marking, fingering, begging, unprotected sex (a big NO-NO)

The room was warm, lights dimmed low. Jay had you underneath him, his body pressed flush against yours as he moved slowly, deeply, like he wanted to savor every second.

His mouth was on your neck, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses while he rocked into you with that perfect, steady rhythm that always made your head spin.

“You feel so good,” he whispered against your skin, voice husky.

One of his hands slid down to grip your thigh, pulling it higher around his waist. “Been thinking about this all day, baby…”

You were lost in it.

The stretch, the heat, the way he filled you so perfectly. Your fingers dug into his back, breathy moans slipping out as pleasure built higher and higher.

And then it hit.

Without warning, your neck jerked sharply to the side, once, twice.

Then harder.

Your arm flailed out suddenly, knocking into his shoulder.

Your leg twitched violently, kicking against the mattress.

Another harsh tic rippled through your shoulder and head, making your whole upper body spasm.

Jay froze instantly.

“Baby?” His voice was breathless but concerned.

He stopped moving, holding himself still inside you as he lifted his head to look at you. His eyes widened when he saw your face.

The way your head kept jerking, your arm flapping uncontrollably, your expression a mix of pleasure and sudden frustration.

Another strong tic hit, making your torso twist sharply underneath him. You let out a strained sound, half-moan, half-grunt of annoyance.

“Fuck— Jay, I’m sorry—” you managed to gasp out between tics, your voice tight. Your free hand grabbed at the sheets as your body continued to move on its own.

He didn’t pull out. Instead, he carefully shifted his weight, one hand gently but firmly pressing on your hip to help ground you.

His other hand came up to cup the side of your face, thumb stroking your cheek even as your head jerked again.

“Hey, hey… breathe,” he murmured, voice steady even though you could see the surprise in his eyes.

This was new to him.

You’d never told him about your tourette’s. Not like this, not in such an vulnerable, exposed moment.

Another big tic made your arm fly up. Jay caught it gently, intertwining your fingers with his and pressing your hand into the pillow above your head.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your twitching cheek. “I’ve got you. Just let it happen, baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

He stayed buried inside you, warm and full, but completely still waiting, patient, his body a solid weight keeping you anchored while the tics rolled through you in waves.

His eyes never left your face, full of concern… and something softer.

Something that looked a lot like love.

The tics kept coming in waves. They were strong, unpredictable, and frustrating.

Your head jerked hard to the left again, then your shoulder twitched violently, causing your whole upper body to twist underneath Jay. A sharp, involuntary sound escaped your throat.

Jay stayed completely still inside you, breathing steady. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t look disgusted or weirded out.

Instead, he gently lowered more of his weight onto you. Not crushing, just grounding and wrapped both arms around you, holding you through it.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple. “You’re safe. Just let it out, baby. Don’t fight it.”

One of your arms flailed again, smacking lightly against his back.

Jay caught it without hesitation, threading his fingers through yours and pinning it gently to the mattress beside your head. His thumb rubbed slow, soothing circles on the back of your hand.

“I didn’t… I didn’t tell you,” you gasped between tics, voice shaky with embarrassment and lingering pleasure. “I have Tourette’s… it gets worse when I’m… overwhelmed. Or excited. Or—”

Another strong tic made your neck snap and your leg kick out. J

ay absorbed the movement easily, hips still pressed flush against yours, keeping himself deep inside you.

“Hey,” he said softly, tilting your chin so you’d look at him. His eyes were warm, a little glassy with arousal but full of tenderness. “You don’t have to explain right now. We can talk about it later, okay? Right now I just want you to feel good.”

He waited until the biggest wave passed, then started moving again, slower this time, deeper, more intentional. Every thrust was careful, like he was learning how to love you through this.

“Is this okay?” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth as your head jerked again. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s… good,” you managed, voice breaking into a moan as he hit that perfect spot. Even with the tics still flickering through your body, the pleasure was building again, hotter and more intense because of how safe he made you feel.

Jay groaned quietly when you clenched around him, his forehead dropping to yours. “Fuck, you’re still so tight… so perfect.”

He kept one hand holding yours, the other sliding between your bodies to rub gentle circles on your clit, helping you chase the edge even as your free arm twitched and your shoulder rolled.

Every time a tic hit, he adjusted, shifting his weight, kissing wherever your body moved, whispering soft praises against your skin.

“You’re doing so good, baby… so fucking good for me.”

The combination of his steady thrusts, his voice, and the way he held you through every unpredictable movement finally pushed you over.

You came hard, body shaking with both pleasure and tics, crying out his name as your muscles clenched around him.

Jay followed right after, burying himself deep with a low, broken moan, hips stuttering as he filled you up.

He stayed inside you afterwards, arms wrapped tight around your trembling frame, pressing soft kisses all over your face even when your head jerked and your shoulder twitched against him.

After a few long minutes, when your breathing finally evened out and the tics calmed into smaller, occasional movements, he pulled back just enough to look at you.

His thumb gently wiped a tear from the corner of your eye. You hadn’t even realized you were crying from the intensity.

“You okay?” he asked softly, voice full of care. “Was that… too much?”

You shook your head, still a little shy. “No… it was perfect. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. It’s embarrassing sometimes.”

Jay leaned down and kissed you slow and sweet, like he was pouring every ounce of affection into it.

“Don’t be sorry,” he whispered against your lips. “I want all of you. The tics, the flailing, the sounds… everything. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

He stayed buried inside you, holding you close as your body finally relaxed completely against him.

“It's okay, baby. I love you.”

@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

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comment down below to be added! :3

[heesvnqie]

Ruin You-sunghoon

pairing: fem!reader x park!sunghoon genre: enemies to lovers, angst, smut warnings: 18+ only, angst, fight, smut,cussing, biting/marking, fingering, begging, size kink, dom!jsunghoon x sub!reader, unprotected sex, possessive behavior, marking, power imbalance word count: 19.7k author's note: this idea purely came out of my late night overthinking sessions...got high hopes for this ff. It's been a while since I wrote Sunghoon so i def missed him lmao. tell me how it came out in the comments! :3

The rain in Seoul that September felt different from back home. It was sharper, colder, the kind that seeped through your coat and settled into your bones. You stood at the main gate of Seoul National University with your suitcase handle gripped tightly in one hand and a soggy orientation map in the other.

Mid-year transfer. Engineering department. Second year. It sounded simple on paper, but the reality of stepping into a campus where everyone already belonged somewhere made your stomach twist. You had chosen SNU for its reputation. Top engineering program in the country. Better scholarship opportunities. A chance to finally push yourself after a year of feeling stuck at your old university.

Your dorm room was on the sixth floor of Building 3. It was a cramped double that smelled faintly of instant ramen and old textbooks. Your roommate, Mina, was a third-year business major with bright pink highlights and a habit of talking nonstop when she was nervous.

The moment you pushed the door open, dragging your suitcase behind you, Mina jumped up from her bed, nearly knocking over a stack of notebooks.

“Oh my god, you’re finally here!” she exclaimed, rushing over with a bright smile. “I was starting to think the rain swallowed you. Here, let me help with that—”

She grabbed one end of your suitcase before you could even respond, wrestling it toward the empty side of the room with surprising determination. You couldn’t help but smile at her energy.

“Thanks,” you said, shaking rain from your hair. “I’m Y/N. And yeah, the rain almost won that round.”

"I’m Mina. Business major, third year, professional stress-eater. I talk a lot when I’m excited, fair warning. Your bed’s the one by the window." Mina laughed, already launching into a whirlwind of words as she cleared space on your desk. "I thought you might like the view even if it’s mostly other dorm buildings. The Wi-Fi password is on that sticky note, and if the hot water sucks in the mornings, just kick the pipe under the sink twice. Trust me, it works."

You dropped your bag on the bed and started unpacking, matching her pace easily. Within minutes you were both chatting like you’d known each other for months. You cracked a joke about surviving on cafeteria food and energy drinks, and Mina fired back with stories about the worst dorm meals she’d had last year. The conversation flowed naturally loud, easy, bouncing between campus tips and random life stories. She matched your energy without missing a beat.

By the time your clothes were hanging in the small closet and your textbooks were stacked on the desk, the room already felt less like a stranger’s space and more like the start of something manageable.

That first night, after ordering late takeout, the two of you sat cross-legged on the floor surrounded by half-unpacked boxes. Mina popped open a can of soda and leaned back against her bed.

“So, engineering… you’re either really smart or a masochist,” she teased. “Which one is it?”

“Both, probably,” you shot back with a smirk, stealing a piece of tteokbokki from her container. “I like the challenge. Plus, I’m not about to let a bunch of circuit diagrams scare me off.”

Mina raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Bold. I like it. You’re gonna need that energy in that department.” She paused, chewing thoughtfully before continuing in a lower voice. “Speaking of… just watch yourself around some of the third-years, okay? Especially in mechanical engineering.”

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. “Why? Spill.”

She hesitated, then sighed. “There’s this guy. Park Sunghoon. He’s… the danger final boss. Crazy smart, like scary good grades, but he’s got this reputation that clears hallways. People say he’s the reason a couple of students transferred out last semester. He doesn’t start fights for no reason, but when he does…” She made a face. “It gets ugly. And the girls who get involved with him? Most end up regretting it. He’s the type who gets what he wants and then acts like you never existed.”

You shrugged, popping another rice cake into your mouth. “Sounds like every campus has one of those. I’m not planning on getting anywhere near him.

Mina nodded, but her expression stayed serious for a moment longer before she switched back to lighter topics like complaining about her group project partners and asking about your old university. The conversation carried on late into the night, easy laughter filling the small room.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The next two weeks passed in a blur of adjustment. You threw yourself into the chaos of mid-year transfer life with the same forward energy that had always carried you through new situations.

You introduced yourself in every class, asked questions without hesitation when you didn’t understand something, and even managed to charm a few group members into actually including you in discussions.

Some days were exhausting. The engineering workload was heavier than your previous school, and the competition was intense. But you refused to shrink back.

Between lectures, you explored the campus and accidentally found the best coffee spot near the library, joined a casual study group that met in the quad, and dragged Mina to a late-night convenience store run when neither of you could sleep.

You heard Sunghoon’s name a few more times in passing.

In the cafeteria line, two girls whispered about how he had shoved a guy against the wall outside the gym for “looking at him funny.”

In your fluid mechanics class, a guy joked nervously that he’d rather fail the course than ask Sunghoon for notes, even though they were supposedly perfect.

Each story painted the same picture of him being cold, untouchable, and dangerous.

But you still hadn’t seen him. Not really.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The first time you properly laid eyes on Park Sunghoon was on a rainy Thursday afternoon.

You were hurrying across the central quad, umbrella battling the wind, backpack strap digging into your shoulder. Your 2 PM circuit theory lecture was starting in ten minutes on the opposite side of campus, and the rain was relentless. Most students had already ducked indoors.

A small crowd had gathered near the old stone fountain. You slowed down without meaning to, curiosity winning for a second.

In the middle of it all stood a tall figure in a soaked black hoodie. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, water running down the sharp line of his jaw. Even from a distance, his presence cut through the rain like a blade. Two guys lingered behind him, smirking. At his feet, another student was curled on the wet ground, clutching his nose as blood mixed with rainwater.

“You think that was funny?” Sunghoon’s voice carried across the downpour. It was low, calm, almost bored. No yelling but it had a icy certainty.

The boy on the ground mumbled something incoherent. Sunghoon’s foot connected with his ribs in a sharp, deliberate kick. Several people in the crowd flinched. You stopped completely under your umbrella, heart picking up speed.

His face was striking in a way that felt unfair. Pale skin, perfect bone structure, dark eyes completely detached from the violence he’d just caused. He looked like he could’ve been modeling instead of standing in the rain hurting someone. He wiped his knuckles on his sleeve, said something quiet to his friends, and then turned and walked away without another glance. The crowd scattered fast.

You stood there a moment longer than you should have, watching his tall figure disappear toward the engineering buildings. He never looked your way. Not once.

That night, the image stuck with you while you tried to focus on homework.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

Two weeks later, midterms loomed like a storm cloud.

You had claimed the quiet 24-hour study lounge on the third floor of the main engineering library as your new favorite hiding spot. It was almost always empty after midnight. The library had dim warm lighting, big windows overlooking the campus, long wooden tables perfect for spreading out notes and diagrams.

You arrived that night around 11:30 PM with your usual supplies. Your laptop, thick textbooks, highlighters, and a massive iced coffee. Caffeine ought to keep you awake the entire night. You settled into your favorite corner desk near the window, earphones in, and lost yourself in Kirchhoff’s laws and circuit analysis. The rain tapped steadily against the glass, creating a soothing rhythm.

At 1:17 AM the door opened. You didn’t look up right away. Heavy footsteps crossed the room. A bag dropped onto a table with a thud. Chair scraping. The faint scent of rain and cigarette smoke drifted through the air.

When you finally glanced up, your stomach tightened.

Park Sunghoon had taken the table directly across from yours.

He sat with long legs stretched out, one ankle crossed over the other, black hoodie sleeves pushed up to show fresh bruises across his knuckles. His hair was still slightly damp. Earbuds in, he scrolled on his phone for a moment before opening his laptop and diving into what looked like complex engineering software.

He didn’t look at you.

To him, you were just another student in the library. Background noise.

Your pulse quickened. Every rumor, every warning, every distant glimpse flashed through your mind. You considered packing up. There were other floors, other corners. But you stayed. You had claimed this spot first. You weren’t going to let the mere presence of some notorious third-year chase you out.

So you forced your eyes back to your notes.

For the next several hours, the lounge remained almost silent except for the occasional page turn, keyboard clicks, and the rain outside. Sunghoon worked without pause, focused, efficient, intimidating even when doing nothing. At one point he stood up to get a drink from the vending machine, moving with that same effortless, predatory grace you’d seen in the quad. When he returned, he dropped back into his seat and continued like you weren’t even there.

You stole careful glances when you were sure his attention was elsewhere. Up close he was even more striking and more unsettling. The sharp jawline, the way his fingers moved across the keyboard, the complete lack of warmth in his expression.

At 3:42 AM he finally closed his laptop, stretched once with a quiet sigh, slung his bag over his shoulder, and left without a word. He never looked in your direction.

You exhaled slowly once the door clicked shut behind him, tension draining from your shoulders.

He still didn’t know who you were.

And for now, that felt like the only protection you had.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The days after that late-night library encounter blurred together in a mix of caffeine, lecture halls, and the constant hum of midterms approaching. You refused to let one silent night with Park Sunghoon rattle you. If anything, it lit a stubborn spark in your chest. The same one that had pushed you to transfer to SNU in the first place. You weren’t going to hide in your dorm or switch study spots like some scared freshman.

This campus was big enough for both of you.

Mina noticed your extra energy immediately.

“You look like you chugged three espressos,” she said one morning, watching you bounce around the room while throwing together your bag. You were already dressed in a cropped hoodie and jeans, hair tied up messily but purposefully. “Or did something happen? Spill.”

You grinned, slinging your backpack over one shoulder. “Nothing major. Just decided I’m not letting this place intimidate me. Want to grab breakfast at that new café near the arts building before my first class? My treat if you’re quick.”

Mina’s eyes lit up. “You’re dangerous when you’re motivated, you know that?” She grabbed her own bag and followed you out the door, the two of you chatting loudly down the hallway, teasing each other about who would finish their assignments first this week. Your laughter echoed off the walls, turning a few heads. You didn’t mind. It felt good to move through the day with confidence instead of shrinking back.

The café was packed, but you managed to charm your way into a corner table by joking with the barista about the ridiculous engineering workload. Mina shook her head in amusement as you carried the tray back. “You make friends everywhere, don’t you?”

“Keeps things interesting,” you replied with a wink, sliding into the seat. Over coffee and pastries, the conversation flowed easily again. Topics were never constant. It bounced from complaints about professors, gossip about upcoming campus festivals, and Mina’s dramatic retelling of her latest failed situationship. You gave her just as much energy back, sharing funny stories from your old university and declaring that this semester was going to be different. Better.

But even as you laughed and planned weekend study sessions, Sunghoon’s detached face from the quad and the library lingered somewhere in the back of your mind.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The following week brought your first real group project meeting for a major circuits course. You arrived at the assigned study room early, claiming the best spot near the whiteboard and immediately starting to organize the materials. When the other three members trickled in, two guys and one girl, you greeted them with bright smiles and easy questions about their weekends, quickly breaking the initial awkwardness.

By the end of the two-hour session, you had volunteered to handle the most complicated simulation part, cracked a few jokes that had everyone relaxing, and even convinced the quietest member to speak up more. As you packed up, one of the guys, Jaehyun, lingered.

“You’re pretty fearless for a transfer student,” he said, half-impressed, half-teasing. “Most people stay quiet in these groups.”

You shrugged, zipping your bag. “Quiet doesn’t get the project done. Plus, I actually like this stuff. See you next session?”

He nodded, smiling a little wider than necessary. “Yeah. Definitely.”

You waved goodbye and headed out, feeling the familiar rush of satisfaction that came from pushing through new situations. Still, as you walked across campus, you couldn’t help but scan the pathways out of habit. No sign of the tall figure with the sharp gaze. Good.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

Thursday evening found you back in the same 24-hour study lounge. This time you arrived earlier, around 10 PM, determined to get a solid head start on problem sets. You wore a comfortable oversized sweater and leggings, hair loose after a long day. The rainy season had eased into a light drizzle, tapping softly against the windows.

The lounge was emptier than usual. You spread out your notes, plugged in your earphones, and lost yourself in the work, occasionally humming under your breath when a concept finally clicked.

At 11:45 PM the door opened again.

You glanced up casually then froze for half a second.

Park Sunghoon walked in, but he looked different tonight. Instead of the usual dark hoodie, he wore a fitted black crewneck sweater that showed the lean muscle of his shoulders, paired with dark grey sweatpants and slightly scuffed sneakers. His hair was dry this time, falling neatly across his forehead, though a faint bruise still colored the side of his left hand. He carried a large coffee and his laptop bag, moving with that same quiet, commanding presence.

He didn’t acknowledge anyone else in the room. His eyes swept over the space once before he chose a table two rows away from yours, still close enough that you could catch the faint scent of his cologne mixed with fresh rain when he passed.

Your heart picked up its pace, but you forced yourself to look back down at your notes. He still doesn’t know who I am, you reminded yourself. Act normal.

For a long stretch, the lounge stayed quiet. You focused hard on your work, solving one problem after another, occasionally tapping your pen against the desk when you thought through a tricky equation. At one point you caught yourself muttering a soft “Yes!” when a simulation finally ran correctly. You winced internally, hoping he hadn’t heard.

He had his earbuds in again, completely absorbed in whatever was on his screen. From the occasional glances you dared to steal, it looked like advanced thermodynamics notes mixed with lines of code. His long fingers moved across the keyboard with precision, jaw set in concentration. There was something almost hypnotic about watching him work , the way his sharp features softened just slightly when he was focused, the subtle furrow between his brows.

He got up once around 1:20 AM to refill his coffee at the machine near the entrance. As he walked back, his path brought him closer to your table than necessary. For a brief moment, his eyes flicked in your direction, not really seeing you, more like registering that someone else was still here this late. His expression remained blank, indifferent. He returned to his seat without a word.

You let out a slow breath.

The hours stretched on. Around 2:30 AM, you stood up to stretch your legs and grab a snack from your bag. As you moved, your pen rolled off the table and clattered loudly onto the floor, stopping near Sunghoon’s table.

You froze.

Before you could decide what to do, he glanced over. His dark eyes landed on the pen, then lifted slowly to your face. For the first time, he actually looked at you. Really looked. It lasted only a couple of seconds. No recognition. No spark of interest. Just mild annoyance at the interruption, maybe.

You walked over quickly, keeping your steps confident. “Sorry about that,” you said lightly, bending to pick up the pen. Your voice came out steady, even a little casual. “Late-night brain fog.”

Sunghoon didn’t reply. He simply watched you for another beat, then turned his attention back to his laptop as if you had already ceased to exist. No smirk, no cutting remark. It was just cold dismissal.

You returned to your seat, cheeks slightly warm but refusing to show it. Inside, your mind raced. That was the closest you had ever been to him. Close enough to notice the small scar near his eyebrow and the way his shoulders tensed slightly when he was irritated.

The rest of the night passed in tense silence. He left first this time, around 4:10 AM, packing up without looking back. You stayed another thirty minutes, finishing your last set of problems before finally heading back to the dorm, mind buzzing with a confusing mix of adrenaline and unease.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The weekend brought a much-needed break. You dragged Mina to a small off-campus market on Saturday afternoon, the two of you linking arms and weaving through stalls, trying street food and bargaining for cute keychains. Your laughter rang out often as you teased her about her terrible sense of direction and posed dramatically for silly photos.

“See? This is why we’re perfect roommates,” Mina declared, biting into a hot fish cake. “You make everything fun.”

You bumped her shoulder playfully. “Someone has to keep the vibe alive around here.”

Even as you enjoyed the normalcy, your thoughts drifted back to the study lounge. To the way Sunghoon had finally looked at you even if only for a moment and seen nothing of importance.

Little did you know that the fragile distance you had been clinging to was about to shrink, slowly but inevitably.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The next few days felt like walking a tightrope you pretended wasn’t there. You kept your usual rhythm. Loud laughs in the hallways, quick-witted comments during lectures, and dragging Mina into spontaneous plans but something had shifted under the surface.

That brief moment in the study lounge when Sunghoon’s eyes had actually landed on you kept replaying in your head at the worst times. Not because he had been cruel. But because he had been so… indifferent. Like you were background noise in his perfectly controlled world.

You hated how much it stuck with you.

Friday afternoon brought your circuits lab. The room buzzed with the usual chaos of soldering irons, muttered curses, and the smell of hot metal. You arrived early as always, claiming a workstation near the front and immediately starting to organize the equipment. When your lab partner, a quiet guy named Minjun, showed up looking stressed, you flashed him a bright grin.

“Hey, no dying on me today,” you teased, handing him a pair of safety goggles. “We’re finishing this circuit without any sparks flying except the good kind. You take the voltage measurements, I’ll handle the wiring. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

Minjun relaxed a little, chuckling. “You’re way too energetic for a Friday lab. How do you do it?”

“Pure survival instinct,” you replied, already clipping wires with focused movements. Throughout the session you kept the energy up by cracking jokes when something went wrong, hyping Minjun up when the readings finally matched the simulation, and even helping the pair next to you when they got stuck. By the end of the three hours, your station was the loudest and most productive one in the room. The TA even complimented your setup.

As you packed up, Minjun lingered. “You’re pretty cool for a transfer student. A bunch of us are grabbing drinks at the campus bar tonight. Wanna come?”

You thought about it for half a second before nodding. “Yeah, why not? Text me the details.”

Mina was thrilled when you told her later.

“Finally! You’ve been all study-mode lately,” she said, raiding your closet for something to wear. She held up a black top. “This would look killer on you. Show off that ‘I’m a badass engineering girl’ energy.”

You laughed and snatched it from her. “Only if you promise not to ditch me for some business major guy.”

“Deal.”

The bar was crowded and noisy, filled with students blowing off steam before midterms really hit. You arrived with Mina, already in high spirits, ordering drinks and pulling her onto the small dance floor area when your favorite song came on. You moved confidently, laughing when Mina tried (and failed) to match your rhythm, shouting lyrics together and drawing a small group of people into your orbit.

For a couple of hours, you let yourself forget about quiet study lounges and sharp-eyed third-years. You were just Y/N . The loud, bold, enjoying the night Y/N.

But around 11:30 PM, the atmosphere shifted.

You were at the bar grabbing another round when you felt it that heavy, unmistakable presence. You turned your head slightly and there he was.

Park Sunghoon.

He stood near the back wall with two of his usual friends, leaning casually against the dark paneling. Tonight he wore a black leather jacket over a plain white tee, the jacket slightly worn at the cuffs, paired with dark jeans. His hair was styled a little messier than in the library, falling across his forehead in a way that somehow made his sharp features look even more god-like under the low bar lights. A faint bruise still lingered on his knuckles, but he looked relaxed or as relaxed as someone like him ever seemed.

He wasn’t looking at you. As usual.

His group was talking among themselves, and Sunghoon’s expression remained detached, almost bored, as he scanned the room once. His gaze passed over you without pausing. You quickly turned back to the bartender, heart hammering harder than you wanted to admit.

Mina appeared beside you, eyes wide. “Is that…?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, forcing a casual smile. “Don’t stare.”

But you couldn’t help stealing another glance as you waited for your drinks. Someone approached Sunghoon’s group. It was a girl, pretty and clearly tipsy. She smiled up at him, touching his arm lightly. Sunghoon looked down at her, said something short, and the girl’s smile faltered. His friends laughed. The girl retreated a moment later, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Cold. Efficient. Cruel in the most casual way.

You grabbed the drinks and dragged Mina back to your group, throwing yourself into the conversation with even more energy than before. Laughing louder. Dancing harder. Pretending the knot in your stomach wasn’t there.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The week after the bar night passed in a whirlwind of midterms and barely enough sleep. You powered through it the only way you knew how — with loud determination and zero room for overthinking. Between back-to-back exams and late-night cramming sessions in the library where Sunghoon had become a silent shadow, you felt the need for something outside of engineering textbooks and quiet tension-filled nights.

Mina noticed it first, as usual.

“You’ve been glued to problem sets for days,” she said one afternoon while you were both sprawled on your dorm room floor. “You need a break before you turn into a circuit diagram yourself. There’s a club fair happening tomorrow near the student center. Come with me?”

You rolled onto your stomach, propping your chin on your hands. “Clubs? I was thinking of something low-key.”

Mina grinned mischievously. “Low-key is boring. You? You thrive on chaos. Let’s go check out the Debate Club. I heard they’re doing trial debates this semester. It’ll be fun, arguing with people on purpose instead of just in group projects.”

You laughed, the idea sparking immediate interest. “Debate? Bold. I’m in. But if I get too competitive and embarrass you, that’s on you.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” she shot back, already pulling you up to pick outfits for the fair.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The club fair was lively, filled with colorful booths, music, and upperclassmen enthusiastically pitching their groups. You moved through the crowds with your usual energy, stopping at a few booths. The photography club caught your eye for a moment, and the dance team made you pause longer but Mina kept steering you toward the far end.

The Debate Club table was surprisingly packed. A tall banner with “SNU Debate Society” hung behind it, and several members were engaged in animated discussions. You scanned the area casually, grabbing a pamphlet.

Then your stomach dropped.

Standing near the back of the booth, arms crossed as he listened to someone speak, was Park Sunghoon.

He looked different in daylight, wearing a clean black button-up with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, revealing those familiar faint bruises, paired with dark trousers. His hair was neatly styled, falling across his forehead in that effortlessly sharp way. He wasn’t smiling, but he nodded occasionally, exuding that same quiet authority that made people instinctively give him space.

You quickly looked away, heart racing. “Mina… you didn’t mention he might be here.”

Mina followed your gaze and her eyes widened. “Wait...he’s in debate this year? I thought he only did it sporadically. Shit. We can leave if you want.”

You straightened your shoulders, forcing a confident smile. “No. We’re already here. I’m not running just because he exists. Let’s see what it’s about.”

The club advisor, Professor Kang, a sharp-tongued man in his forties known for his no-nonsense style stepped forward and clapped his hands. “Alright, new faces and returning members! We’re doing a quick trial debate today to gauge interest and team dynamics. Nothing too formal. We’ll split into two teams for a practice round on the topic ‘Is competition in academics more harmful than beneficial?’”

Mina leaned over and whispered excitedly, “This is perfect for you. You argue with professors in class all the time.”

Before you could respond, Professor Kang started dividing people. Names were called, and teams began forming. Mina, ever the chaos agent and clearly in a playful mood, suddenly shot her hand up when he asked for a volunteer to lead one side.

“She’ll do it!” Mina announced loudly, pointing straight at you with a grin. “Y/N’s great at this. She’s bold, quick on her feet, and she never backs down. Perfect opposition leader material.”

You shot her a wide-eyed look, half-amused, half-“I’m going to kill you later.” But you didn’t deny it. Instead, you raised your hand properly, stepping forward with a confident smirk. “Yeah, I’ll take it. Sounds fun.”

A few people clapped. Professor Kang nodded approvingly. “Great. Y/N leading the opposition. Now, for the proposition leader…”

His eyes scanned the group. Several members looked away, clearly not wanting the pressure. Then, from the back, a hand rose slowly.

Park Sunghoon stepped forward, the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint, almost mocking smirk. His dark eyes swept over the group before landing directly on you for the first time with real focus.

“I’ll take it,” he said, voice low and smooth, carrying easily across the room.

Your world stopped.

The air felt suddenly thinner. That smirk was cold, confident, and laced with something dangerously unreadable and was aimed straight at you. For a split second, everything else faded. The chatter of the club, Mina’s surprised gasp beside you, the shuffling of papers. It was just you and Sunghoon, standing on opposite sides of an imaginary battlefield he hadn’t even known existed until thirty seconds ago.

He still didn’t know your name. Professor Kang had said it, but it clearly hadn’t registered as important. To him, you were just another bold new face who had volunteered for something most people avoided.

But the way he looked at you now, assessing, slightly amused, like he was already calculating how easily he could dismantle you, sent a shiver down your spine.

Professor Kang clapped again. “Excellent. Sunghoon as proposition leader. Teams, gather your members and prepare your opening statements. You have fifteen minutes.”

Mina grabbed your arm, whispering frantically, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he’d actually join. Do you want to back out?”

You shook your head, adrenaline already surging through your veins. “No. We’re doing this.”

Professor Kang quickly shifted the venue from the crowded booth to the larger seminar hall nearby so the swelling crowd could fit. What was supposed to be a small, low-stakes trial debate exploded into something legendary within minutes.

Word spread like wildfire across campus. Students poured in from every faculty. Engineering majors, business students, even people from the arts faculty. The small seminar room overflowed. People stood in the hallways, craned their necks from doorways, and someone had pulled out a small portable stage at the front. Phones were recording. The entire college seemed to have gathered.

Professor Kang looked both surprised and delighted. “Very well. We’ll treat this as a full formal debate. Opening statements, then open rebuttals and cross-examination. Topic remains: ‘Is competition in academics more harmful than beneficial?’ Sunghoon starts.”

The room fell into a charged hush as Sunghoon stepped up to his podium. That faint smirk was already on his face, growing wider as he scanned the massive crowd.

“Competition in academics is not a driver of success. It is a silent destroyer,” he began. “It turns learning into a battlefield where students are ranked, compared, and discarded. We see the results every semester. Rising anxiety disorders, burnout, and students sacrificing their health and sanity for a 0.1 GPA difference. True education should foster collaboration and curiosity, not this brutal survival of the fittest. Competition doesn’t create excellence. It creates casualties.”

His words landed heavily. The audience murmured in agreement.

But you stepped forward, heart pounding but voice ringing out strong and full of conviction.

“Competition is the very engine of human progress,” you fired back. “Without it, we settle for average. Every major breakthrough in engineering, medicine, and technology came because someone refused to accept the current standard and competed to do better. Remove competition and you remove the fire that pushes us forward. Yes, it creates pressure but pressure creates diamonds. The solution isn’t to eliminate competition. It’s to build better support systems while keeping the drive that makes us exceptional.”

The crowd reacted with scattered applause and murmurs. Then the real battle began.

Sunghoon’s smirk grew wider as he stepped closer to the center of the stage during rebuttals. “Diamonds under pressure? Romantic, but naive. Most students aren’t diamonds. They’re glass. They crack. Studies from top universities show that hyper-competitive environments correlate directly with increased depression and dropout rates. You glorify a system that rewards the ruthless while ignoring the majority who suffer silently. That isn’t progress. That’s cruelty masked as motivation.”

You met him in the middle of the stage, voice rising with determined energy. “And you propose what exactly? Removing all competition so we can all hold hands and achieve mediocrity together? That’s not compassion, that’s complacency! History proves competition drives innovation. The countries and institutions that embrace healthy competition lead the world in patents, discoveries, and breakthroughs. Your argument protects weakness instead of building strength. We need competition to evolve, not coddling to stay stagnant!”

The tension skyrocketed. Both of you were now fully in the center, facing each other directly. The rest of the debaters had stepped back, letting the two of you dominate.

Sunghoon’s smirk was at its wides. Sharp, almost exhilarated as he fired back. “Healthy competition? There’s no such thing in this cutthroat environment. It becomes toxic the moment rankings and scholarships are on the line. Students aren’t evolving. They’re surviving. Your idealism ignores the human cost. We need reform, not more fuel on the fire!”

You raised your voice, frustration colliding as you shouted, “Then fix the support systems instead of blaming the drive to improve! We don’t lower the bar because some can’t reach it. We help them jump higher! Your argument is fear disguised as empathy. I’d rather struggle and grow than live in a world where no one even tries to be exceptional. Competition made this university great. It will keep pushing us forward whether you like it or not!”

Even Sunghoon’s friends, standing near the front, looked visibly shocked at the sheer determination and fire in your voice. Their usual smug expressions replaced with wide-eyed surprise as they exchanged glances.

The crowd, the professors, and the college was completely hooked. Phones started lowering as people got lost in the moment. Someone cheered loudly. Then another. Soon the entire hall was erupting. Students shouting encouragement, clapping, and forgetting they were supposed to be recording. The energy was pure and raw.

Sunghoon laughed once. It was low and dangerous but his smirk never faded as he leaned in slightly, voice loud and cutting. “Fighting to rise? At what cost? Sleep deprivation? Destroyed relationships? A generation of burnt-out high achievers? Your ‘rise higher’ philosophy is exactly why so many students break. Competition doesn’t build character. It reveals who was already broken by the system!”

You were practically toe-to-toe now, shouting back with everything you had. “As I said! Fix the support, not the standard! We don’t lower the bar because some can’t reach it. Your argument is defeatist and lazy.”

The hall exploded. Students were now fully cheering, some standing on chairs, completely absorbed. Phones were forgotten in hands as the raw clash between your fiery personality and Sunghoon’s cold, calculated precision captivated everyone.

Professor Kang finally stepped in, raising his hands with visible excitement. “Enough! That was one of the most intense debates this society has ever seen.”

The room erupted in thunderous applause.

Professor Kang continued, “Y/N. Excellent. You're passionate, unyielding defense of competition as a force for growth. Sunghoon. Amazing. you're compelling, ruthless highlighting of its human cost. We’ll announce official team decisions next week. Now scramble! It's late already!

As the crowd slowly began to disperse in a buzz of excited gossip, Sunghoon walked past you on the stage. His arm brushed yours deliberately. He leaned in just enough for you to hear.

“Not bad at all… Y/N.”

He pulled back with that same wide, dangerous smirk and disappeared into the sea of students.

You stood there, breathing hard, adrenaline still flooding your system.

The unfamiliarity and distance was officially gone.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The applause was still ringing in your ears as you stepped off the small stage, legs feeling slightly unsteady from the adrenaline crash. The seminar hall was buzzing with excited chatter. People replaying moments from the debate, whispering about how intense it had gotten, and already spreading clips on campus group chats.

Before you could even catch your breath, Mina came barreling through the crowd, eyes wide with a mix of amazement and disbelief.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” she practically screamed, grabbing both your arms. “That was insane! You were on fire up there! The way you went head-to-head with him… I swear the whole campus is going to be talking about this for weeks. You were amazing!”

You let out a breathless laugh, still riding the high. “Thanks… I guess? I didn’t plan on it turning into an all-out war.”

Mina pulled you into a quick hug, then pulled back with a more serious expression. “But seriously… that was Park Sunghoon. Like, the Park Sunghoon. I’m low-key worried now. He looked way too into it, and that smirk he had? He’s not the type to just let things go. What if he decides to pick on you because of this?”

She brushed it off quickly with a wave of her hand, trying to sound casual. “Never mind. It’s fine. You two don’t even run in the same circles anyway. You’ll probably never actually meet him outside of this one random debate. It was just a one-time thing.”

You nervously laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. The sound came out a little too forced. “Yeah… about that…”

Mina raised an eyebrow. “What?”

You hesitated for a second before admitting, “When I pull all-nighters in the library… he does come. To the same study lounge. Multiple times already.”

Mina’s eyes widened comically. “Wait… what?! You’ve been sharing late-night library sessions with Park Sunghoon and you didn’t tell me?!”

“It wasn’t like we talked or anything,” you said quickly, trying to downplay it. “He just… sits there. Works. Leaves. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”

Mina stared at you like you had grown a second head. “Y/N. This is Park Sunghoon we’re talking about. The guy who ruins lives for fun. And now he knows your name and saw how fiery you can get? This is not ‘not worth mentioning’ territory!”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool even as your stomach twisted a little. “It’s fine. He still barely acknowledges I exist. It was just a debate. Nothing’s going to happen.”

But even as you said the words, you couldn’t shake the memory of that final smirk and the way he had leaned in to say your name.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The rest of the day passed in a blur of campus gossip. Everywhere you went. The cafeteria, the quad, even your afternoon lecture. People were talking about the debate. Some congratulated you. Others gave you wary looks, like they couldn’t believe you had gone toe-to-toe with Sunghoon and walked away intact.

By evening, you were exhausted. You told Mina you were going to the library again to catch up on missed work. She gave you a long, concerned look but eventually let you go with a warning to “be careful.”

The 24-hour study lounge was quieter than usual that night. You arrived around 11 PM, claiming your usual corner desk near the window. You spread out your notes and tried to focus, but your mind kept drifting back to the stage, to the way Sunghoon had looked at you while arguing.

At 12:47 AM the door opened.

You didn’t need to look up to know who it was. The familiar faint scent of cologne reached you first. Heavy footsteps. The scrape of a chair.

When you finally glanced up, Sunghoon was there.

He wore a dark navy hoodie tonight, sleeves pushed up, hair slightly messy like he’d run his hand through it multiple times. A fresh bruise marked his right knuckles. He dropped his bag at a table two rows away, closer than usual and sat down without a word.

He didn’t look at you.

But the air felt heavier. Different.

You forced your eyes back to your notes, heart beating a little faster. For the next hour, the lounge stayed silent except for the occasional keyboard clicks and page turns. You caught yourself stealing glances. He was working intently, jaw set, but every so often his eyes would flick in your direction, brief but unreadable.

At 2:15 AM you stood up to stretch and get a drink from the vending machine. As you walked back, your path took you past his table. You kept your steps confident, refusing to shrink.

Just as you passed him, Sunghoon spoke without looking up from his laptop.

“You argue well.”

His voice was low, almost casual, but it stopped you in your tracks.

You turned slightly. “Thanks… I guess.”

He finally lifted his gaze. That smirk was back. Smaller this time, but still dangerous. “Don’t let it go to your head. I still think your opinion is idealistic bullshit.”

You couldn’t help the small, defiant smile that tugged at your lips. “And I still think yours is defeatist. Guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

For a moment, the two of you just looked at each other. There was no shouting. No crowd. Just quiet, charged tension in the empty lounge.

Sunghoon leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving yours. “We’ll see.”

Then he went back to his work like nothing had happened.

You returned to your seat, pulse racing, a confusing mix of nerves and strange excitement settling in your chest.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The days following that day felt strangely quiet.

You didn’t see Sunghoon in the study lounge for an entire week. Then another. The late nights became peaceful again.

Just you, your notes, the soft hum of the air conditioning, and the distant sound of occasional rain against the windows. No heavy footsteps. No faint scent of cologne. No sharp, assessing gaze from across the room.

At first, you were tense every time the door opened. But as the days stretched into two full weeks without a single sighting, you slowly started to relax. The knot in your stomach loosened.

The constant low hum of anxiety faded. You even joked with Mina about it one night while the two of you were eating ramen in your dorm.

“See? I told you it was nothing,” you said, slurping noodles confidently. “One debate and he’s already bored of me. Back to normal life.”

Mina still looked a little worried but eventually laughed along. “Yeah, maybe. Just… stay out of his way anyway. That guy is trouble.”

You threw yourself back into your usual rhythm with renewed energy.

Loud laughter in group projects, dragging Mina to late-night convenience store runs, charming your way through tough labs, and even joining a few casual study sessions with Jaehyun, Minjun and his friends. The campus gossip about the debate slowly died down, replaced by study stress and upcoming festivals. Life felt manageable again.

Until that Friday evening.

It was just a weekend before midterms, and the campus was buzzing with last-minute panic. You were walking through the quieter second-floor corridor of the engineering building after a long group meeting, backpack heavy on your shoulder, mind already planning your all-nighter. The hallway was nearly empty. Most students had headed back to their dorms or the library.

You turned the corner casually. And stopped dead.

Park Sunghoon had a girl pressed against the wall, his hand wrapped firmly around her throat. Not enough to fully cut off her air, but enough that she was gasping, eyes wide with a mix of fear and fury. Tears streaked her face. She looked familiar. One of the girls you’d seen him with before, possibly an ex.

“You think you can run your mouth about me and just disappear?” Sunghoon’s voice was low, trembling with barely restrained rage. “I told you what would happen if you kept spreading lies.”

The girl clutched at his wrist, voice hoarse. “We’re done, you psycho! Let go—”

He tightened his grip slightly. The girl whimpered.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. You must have made a small noise because Sunghoon’s head snapped toward you instantly. His dark eyes locked onto yours, wild, furious, and dangerous.

For a split second, everything froze.

Then you ran.

You spun on your heel and sprinted down the corridor, footsteps echoing loudly. You didn’t look back. You took the stairs two at a time, burst out of the building into the cool evening air, and kept running until you were deep in the central quad, chest burning and mind spinning.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

That night, despite the knot of fear in your stomach, you still forced yourself to go to the study lounge. You refused to let him scare you out of your routine. The lounge was quiet and dimly lit when you arrived just after 1 AM. You settled into your usual corner desk, spreading out your notes and textbooks, trying to lose yourself in problem sets.

The door slammed open at 1:47 AM with enough force to rattle the windows.

Sunghoon stormed in.

He looked like a storm barely contained. His hair was disheveled, jaw clenched so tightly the muscle ticked, and his eyes burned with raw, barely controlled fury. The black leather jacket he wore was slightly askew, and his knuckles were freshly bruised and split this time. He definitely had beat the hell out of someone this time. He moved with aggression, every step heavy and threatening.

His eyes scanned the lounge and his gaze locked onto you instantly.

You started packing up immediately, heart hammering as you shoved notebooks and pens into your bag. Before you could stand, he crossed the room in long strides and slammed his bag and laptop down on your table with a violent thud. The sound echoed sharply in the empty lounge.

“Running away again, baby?” he growled, voice low and shaky with barely restrained anger. He leaned over the table, towering above you, breathing hard. “You saw something you shouldn’t have and decided to sprint like a fucking coward?”

You straightened up, refusing to cower.

“In your fucking dreams.” Your voice came out surprisingly sharp and defiant.

Sunghoon laughed. Itwas a low, mocking sound that sent chills racing down your spine. His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous, but his eyes were still burning with fury.

“Sit down,” he ordered, voice still trembling as he dropped heavily into the chair directly across from you.

You glared at him for a long, tense moment before slowly sinking back into your seat. The lounge felt suffocatingly small. The tension between you two was thick enough to cut with a knife.

He stared at you across the table, fists clenched on the surface, breathing uneven. For several long seconds, neither of you spoke. The air crackled with everything unsaid. The debate, the corridor, the library nights, the way he now knew exactly who you were and what you had witnessed.

Finally, his voice came out rough and dangerous. “You saw too much.”

“I didn’t ask to see it,” you shot back, trying to keep your voice steady. “I was just walking through the corridor.”

Sunghoon leaned forward, dark eyes never leaving yours. “And now you’re a problem.”

The way he said it. Quiet, threatening, and full of warning. It made your pulse spike. But that stubborn fire in you refused to back down completely.

You met his gaze head-on, chin lifted. “Then what are you going to do about it?”

Sunghoon’s smirk deepened, slow and dangerous, as he stared at you like he was deciding exactly how much trouble you were worth.

The lounge stayed deathly silent. No more words passed between you. The air was thick with tension. His eyes, still dark with leftover fury from the corridor incident, never left yours. The usual cold indifference was gone. It was replaced by something sharper, more personal.

You held his gaze for several long, charged seconds, refusing to be the first to look away. Your heart was pounding, but you kept your expression steady, chin slightly lifted. The memory of his hand around that girl’s throat flashed in your mind, mixing with the fire from the debate stage.

Then you stood up.

You gathered the rest of your things with deliberate movements, zipping your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. Without saying another word, you turned and walked toward the door.

Sunghoon didn’t speak.

He didn’t try to stop you.

But you could feel his darkened eyes burning into your back the entire way out. The weight of his stare followed you until the door clicked shut behind you.

The cool night air hit your face the moment you stepped outside the library. You walked fast across the quad, the echo of your footsteps mixing with the soft rain. Your mind was spinning, filled with fear, adrenaline, anger, and a strange, unwelcome spark of something else you didn’t want to name.

You didn’t look back.

But you knew he was still watching.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The next week was midterms.

The campus turned into a pressure cooker. Lectures became frantic review sessions. Group chats were flooded with panicked questions. The libraries were packed with students surviving on caffeine and sheer willpower. You barely had time to breathe, let alone think about Sunghoon.

You avoided the usual study lounge completely, choosing busier floors or studying in your dorm with Mina when she was around. The memory of that silent confrontation still lingered, but midterms gave you the perfect distraction.

Mina was your lifeline through it all.

“You look like death,” she said one night as the two of you sat on the floor surrounded by notes and empty coffee cups. “When was the last time you slept?”

You laughed tiredly. “I’ll sleep when midterms are over. Right now I just need to pass fluid mechanics.”

She nudged your shoulder. “You’ve got this. You’re the same girl who went toe-to-toe with Park Sunghoon in front of the entire campus. A few exams won’t break you.”

You smiled, but the mention of his name still made your stomach twist. You didn’t see him during midterms week.

Not once.

It was like he had vanished into his own storm of exams and whatever trouble he usually got into. The campus felt almost peaceful without his presence looming. You focused on your papers, your group presentations, and the occasional late-night study sessions with Jaehyun and Minjun. Life narrowed down to surviving one exam at a time.

By the end of the week, you were exhausted but relieved. The last exam was over. The campus slowly started to breathe again as students emerged from their rooms like survivors of a war.

That Friday night, you finally allowed yourself to relax.

Mina dragged you to a small off-campus café to celebrate. The two of you sat by the window, drinking overpriced lattes and laughing about the ridiculous questions on the circuits exam. For the first time in weeks, you felt light.

Until you looked out the window.

Across the street, leaning against a lamppost under the streetlight, was Sunghoon.

He was alone, hands in the pockets of his black jacket, hair slightly messy from the wind. His eyes were fixed on the café, precisely on you.

Your laughter died in your throat.

He didn’t move. He just watched you with that same darkened intensity, the corner of his mouth lifting into the faintest smirk when your eyes met.

Mina followed your gaze and froze. “Oh shit… is that—?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, quickly looking away. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

You left the café before finishing your drink, heart racing the entire walk back to the dorm. Sunghoon didn’t follow.

But you knew the peace was over.

He was done waiting.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

You avoided the usual study lounge completely, choosing busier floors or studying in your dorm with Mina. The memory of Sunghoon’s darkened eyes and the heavy silence still lingered, but you pushed it down. Midterms results came out the following Monday, and the department posted them on the main notice board near the engineering building.

You checked yours first.

Second Year Rankings:-

Y/N — 97.7

Jaehyun— 96.2

Minjun — 95.8

You stared at the board for a long moment, a small, proud smile tugging at your lips. First in your year. All the late nights, the stress, the refusal to back down. It had paid off.

Out of pure curiosity, you scanned the third-year board next.

Third Year Rankings:-

Park Sunghoon — 98.9

Jay Park — 97.4

Jake Sim — 96.8

You let out a soft laugh.

Of course he was top.

98.9.

The guy was infuriatingly good at everything. Including beating people.

Shaking your head, you turned away from the board and headed to class.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

That afternoon, the engineering department held a joint senior-junior lecture on advanced sustainable systems. It was mandatory for second-years and open to third-years for extra credit. The lecture hall was packed when you arrived. You found a seat near the middle and settled in, pulling out your notebook.

Then Jay and Jake walked in. You obviously knew them. They were Sunghoon's friends. You and Mina called them the "the brat's sidechicks" as an internal joke.

They spotted you almost immediately. Jake grinned and slid into the seat next to you. Jay took the one on your other side.

“Hey, debate girl,” Jake whispered, nudging your arm. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Congrats on topping second year, by the way.”

You smiled, rolling your eyes. “Thanks. You guys killed it too. 98.9 for Sunghoon… that’s insane.”

Jay chuckled softly, leaning in a bit too close on your other side. “He doesn’t do anything halfway. Perfectionist to the core. Unlike some people who probably pulled all-nighters just to scrape by.”

Jake snickered. “Yeah, we saw your ranking. Impressive for a transfer. But tell us. Did you really stay up till 4 AM every night, or are you secretly a genius pretending to struggle?”

You gave them a flat look, but there was a small smile on your lips. They were annoying, just like you expected from Sunghoon’s circle. Cocky, teasing, and a little too comfortable pushing buttons.

The lecture started, but the two of them kept whispering throughout, making snide little comments about the professor’s slides and occasionally dragging you into their banter. Halfway through, Jake leaned in way too close, his voice dropping into a mischievous whisper.

“So, debate girl… since we’re all being honest here. When you’re pulling those late all-nighters in the lounge, do you ever… you know… get a little hot and bothered thinking about certain tall, brooding third-years who also happen to be there?”

Jay snickered on your other side, leaning in as well. “Yeah. Be honest. Does the silent tension with Sunghoon ever make you wonder what it would be like if he wasn’t so… cold? Or do you like the chase?”

You blinked, caught completely off guard by how weird and pervy the question was. Your cheeks burned slightly, but you quickly recovered with a sharp glare.

“You two are disgusting,” you muttered, trying to focus on the lecture.

Jake laughed quietly. “Hey, fair’s fair. You can ask us something too. To even it out.”

Jay smirked. “Yeah. Anything. We’re feeling generous.”

You hesitated for a second, then curiosity and a bit of petty revenge won.

“How many exes does Sunghoon actually have?” You asked.

Jake let out a low whistle. Jay raised an eyebrow, looking mildly amused.

“Bold question,” Jay said, leaning back slightly. “Let’s just say… more than a few. He doesn’t do relationships. He does… situations. Most of them don’t last long. A couple of months at most. Then they get too clingy or start talking, and he ends it. Cold.”

Jake grinned, clearly enjoying this. “Soojin was the latest. The one you must have seen him with in the corridors. She thought she was different. Turns out she wasn’t. He’s had at least five or six serious ones in the last two years. The rest were just… casual. Why? You planning on adding your name to the list?”

You rolled your eyes. “In his fucking dreams.”

Both of them laughed quietly.

“Feisty,” Jake teased. “We like that. Sunghoon might too.”

The rest of the lecture passed with more annoying little jabs from them, but nothing too serious. When it ended, Jake bumped your shoulder one last time.

“See you around, debate girl. Try not to get on Sunghoon’s bad side. Or… maybe do. It’s more fun that way.”

You waved them off and headed back to your dorm, mind spinning with the new information.

Sunghoon’s world was darker and messier than you had imagined.

And you had somehow caught his attention.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The days after the joint lecture passed in a surprisingly normal rhythm.

Midterms had ended two weeks ago, so the pressure had finally eased. You no longer needed to pull all-nighters just to survive. Instead, you settled into a calmer routine. Attending lectures, finishing regular assignments at reasonable hours, and actually getting decent sleep for the first time in months. Life felt manageable again.

You spent most evenings with Mina, the two of you binge-watching dramas, complaining about professors, and dragging each other to late-night convenience store runs.

You and Mina even joined a few casual hangouts with Jaehyun and Minjun, laughing over bad cafeteria food and group project horror stories. The campus felt lighter without the constant shadow of midterms.

Sunghoon was still around. You caught glimpses of him across the quad or in the distance during lectures but he didn’t approach. The heavy tension from the lounge and the corridor seemed to have settled into a strange, watchful silence. You told yourself it was fine. You didn’t need to think about him.

Until that Saturday night.

Mina had dragged you to a big off-campus party hosted by some third-year business majors. The house was packed, music blasting, red cups everywhere. You had only planned to stay for an hour, but the energy was contagious. You danced with Mina, laughed with a group of juniors, and even had a few drinks. Just enough to feel light and carefree.

Then you saw Soojin.

She was in the corner with a group of girls, eyes locked on you. When she noticed you looking, she smirked and walked over, drink in hand.

“So you’re the new girl causing drama with Sunghoon,” she said sweetly, but her eyes were sharp. “Cute. Just a heads up. He’ll use you and throw you away like the rest of us. Don’t get too attached.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’m not attached to anything involving him.”

Soojin laughed, but it was bitter. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. He’s poison. And you’re already drinking from the cup.”

She walked away before you could respond, leaving a sour taste in your mouth.

You needed air.

You slipped upstairs to the terrace, the cool night breeze hitting your face. The music was muffled up here. You leaned against the railing, staring at the city lights, trying to shake off the encounter.

The door behind you opened.

"You found me-" You turned, expecting Mina.

It was Sunghoon.

He stepped out, closing the door behind him. He looked good. Black shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy from the party. His eyes found you immediately.

You straightened up. “What are you doing here?”

He walked closer, stopping a few feet away. “Same as you. Needed air.”

The terrace was quiet except for the distant bass from downstairs. The tension between you two was back. Thick, unspoken, and electric.

Sunghoon leaned against the railing beside you, looking out at the city. For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Then he glanced at you.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You were surprised by the question. “Yeah. Just… Soojin being Soojin.”

He scoffed. “She’s always been a dramatic. bitch”

You turned to face him fully. “She warned me about you. Said you’d use me and throw me away.”

Sunghoon’s eyes darkened slightly. “And what did you say?”

“I told her I’m not interested in anything involving you.”

He smirked, but it was smaller than usual. “Smart girl.”

The silence returned, but this time it felt different. Almost comfortable. The city lights twinkled below. The breeze was cool. For a moment, it didn’t feel like you were standing next to the campus nightmare.

Sunghoon spoke again, voice low. “You’re not like the others.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a compliment or a threat?”

He looked at you, eyes intense. “Both.”

The door opened again. This time it really was Mina.

“Y/N? There you are— oh.” She froze when she saw Sunghoon.

Sunghoon straightened up, giving you one last look before walking past Mina and back inside.

Mina rushed over. “What the hell was that?!”

You sighed, leaning back against the railing. “Just… complicated shit.”

The party continued downstairs, but up on the terrace, something had quietly shifted between you and Sunghoon.

And you had no idea what to do with it.

The party downstairs was still in full swing when you and Mina finally left the terrace.

Mina wouldn’t stop talking the entire walk back to the dorm.

“I can’t believe you were alone with him on the terrace! What did he say? Did he threaten you? Did he try to kiss you? Wait — no, that would be bad. But also hot. Wait, no — bad! Very bad!”

You laughed tiredly, unlocking the door. “Nothing happened. We just… talked. Sort of. He asked if I was okay after Soojin was being a bitch.”

Mina stared at you like you had grown two heads. “Sunghoon asked if you were okay? The same Sunghoon who chokes his ex in corridors? I need to sit down.”

You collapsed onto your bed, still buzzing from the alcohol and the strange moment on the terrace. “It was weird. He seemed… almost human for a second.”

Mina flopped down next to you. “This is dangerous territory, Y/N. You know that, right?”

“I know.”

But you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he had looked at you on the terrace.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The week after the party settled into something almost dangerously normal. You threw yourself into lectures, group projects, and late-night study sessions with Mina, pretending the terrace conversation with Sunghoon hadn’t lodged itself under your skin like a splinter you couldn’t quite pull out.

He hadn’t approached you again. No more heavy stares across the quad, no late-night library run-ins. Just the occasional glimpse of his tall figure moving through campus like a shadow that refused to fully disappear.

You told yourself it was a relief.

It was a humid Thursday evening when everything tilted again.

You’d stayed late at the engineering building finishing up a lab report, the sky already bleeding into deep violet by the time you stepped outside. The air smelled like coming rain. You cut through the quieter path behind the arts faculty building. A shortcut Mina swore by, earphones in, mind half on dinner plans and half on the upcoming assignment deadline.

Then you saw it.

Half-hidden by the low stone wall and overgrown ivy near the back exit, under the dim glow of an old lamppost… Park Sunghoon.

He had some girl pressed against the wall, one hand braced beside her head, the other tangled in her hair. She was kissing him like she was drowning and he was oxygen. The kiss was desperate, messy, all trembling hands and soft sounds you couldn’t hear but could somehow feel. Sunghoon kissed her back with that same controlled intensity he brought to everything else. Sharp, consuming, almost clinical in how perfectly he tilted her chin to deepen it. His black shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the top, hair messy from her fingers, the faint bruise on his knuckles still visible even from this distance.

You stopped dead in your tracks, hidden partially by the shadow of a nearby tree. Your stomach twisted hard. Not quite jealousy. Something sharper. Hotter. More confusing.

He pulled back just enough to say something low against her lips, that dangerous little smirk you knew too well curling at the corner of his mouth. The girl laughed breathlessly, pulling him back in.

You couldn’t look away.

“See something interesting, debate girl?”

The voice came from right beside you, low and teasing. You nearly jumped out of your skin.

Jake stood there with his hands in his pockets, grin wide and wicked like he’d been watching you watch them for the past minute. Jay leaned against the tree on your other side, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in mock surprise.

“Shit—” you hissed under your breath, yanking your earphones out.

Jake chuckled softly, eyes flicking toward the scene in the distance. “Didn’t know you were into voyeurism. Bold choice.”

“I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to—” You glared at both of them, cheeks burning. “I was just taking a shortcut.”

“Sure,” Jay drawled, voice dripping with amusement. “And we just happened to find you standing here like a statue, staring at Sunghoon tongue-fucking some poor second-year who doesn’t know any better yet.”

Jake leaned in closer, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “Jealous, Y/N? You’ve got that little frown going on. It’s cute.”

“I’m not jealous,” you snapped, maybe a little too quickly. Your eyes betrayed you, darting back to the lamppost for half a second. Sunghoon had the girl’s leg hooked around his hip now, kissing her like he had all the time in the world and zero interest in being gentle about it.

Jay let out a low whistle. “Damn. He’s really going for it tonight. That’s Hyejin, I think. Or was it Minji? Hard to keep track.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jake shrugged, still grinning at you. “None of them last. You know that already, right? He’ll kiss her stupid, fuck her even stupider, then act like she doesn’t exist by next week.”

You swallowed hard, forcing your gaze away. “I don’t care what he does.”

“Mhm,” Jay hummed, clearly not believing a word. “That’s why you’re still standing here instead of walking away like a smart girl would.”

The three of you stood in silence for another moment, the distant sounds of kissing and soft gasps carrying through the humid air. Sunghoon’s hand slid down the girl’s waist, possessive and sure. Your chest felt tight.

Jake bumped your shoulder lightly. “C’mon, debate girl. Let’s get you out of here before you see something that’ll keep you up all night for the wrong reasons.”

They started walking, and you fell into step between them almost automatically, cheeks still warm with a confusing mix of embarrassment and something you refused to name.

The walk back to your dorm was filled with their relentless teasing.

Jake kept throwing his arm around your shoulders dramatically. “You should’ve seen your face. Pure heartbreak. I thought you were gonna march over there and pull him off her by the hair.”

“I was not,” you muttered, shoving his arm off.

Jay laughed on your other side. “She’s got fire on the debate stage but gets shy watching Sunghoon kiss someone? Interesting.”

“Shut up,” you groaned, but there was no real heat in it. Their teasing was annoying… but weirdly comforting. Like they were letting you in on the chaos of Sunghoon’s world whether you wanted it or not.

By the time you reached the entrance of Building 3, the rain had finally started falling again. That same sharp Seoul rain that always seemed to show up at the worst moments.

Jake stopped at the bottom of the steps, smirking. “Try not to dream about what you saw tonight, yeah?”

Jay gave you a lazy salute. “Night, debate girl. Don’t let the big bad wolf ruin your sleep too much.”

You flipped them off half-heartedly and headed inside, footsteps echoing up the stairs to the sixth floor.

Mina was sprawled on her bed when you pushed the door open, scrolling on her phone. She took one look at your face and sat up.

“Okay… what happened?”

You dropped your bag, flopping face-first onto your own bed with a groan.

“I saw Sunghoon kissing some girl. Like… really kissing her. And then Jake and Jay found me staring and wouldn’t stop teasing me the entire walk back.”

Mina was quiet for half a second before bursting into laughter. “Oh my god. This is getting so messy. Are you okay?”

You turned your head just enough to look at her, voice muffled by your pillow.

“…I don’t know.”

The rain tapped harder against the window.

And somewhere across campus, Sunghoon was probably still wrapped up in someone who wasn’t you.

But the way he’d looked at you on that terrace… the way his eyes had burned into your back when you left the lounge… it all felt like the beginning of something inevitable.

You closed your eyes, heart still racing.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The next few days blurred into a strange game of cat and mouse you never signed up for.

You tried to avoid the usual paths. Steering clear of the arts building at night, picking different routes to class, even changing your late-night study spot to a busier floor in the main library. But campus was only so big, and Sunghoon had a way of existing everywhere at once.

Thursday afternoon found you in the central quad after your last lecture, sitting on a bench with Mina as she dramatically recounted her latest group project disaster. The sun was out for once, warm and golden, and for a moment everything felt light.

Until Jake and Jay appeared like they’d been summoned by chaos itself.

“Debate girl!” Jake called out, jogging over with that signature mischievous grin. Jay followed at a more relaxed pace, hands in his pockets, already smirking like he knew something you didn’t.

Mina raised an eyebrow. “Friends of yours?”

“Something like that,” you muttered.

Jake flopped down on the bench beside you without invitation, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “We’ve been tasked with Operation: Keep Y/N Away From The Walking Red Flag.”

Jay leaned against the bench arm, looking down at you. “Sunghoon’s been in a mood since that party. We figured we’d do you a public service and kidnap you before he decides to corner you again.”

You shrugged Jake’s arm off, but you couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. “I don’t need babysitters.”

“Clearly you do,” Jay countered smoothly. “We saw the way you froze watching him devour Hyejin against that wall. Looked like you needed rescuing then, and you still do now.”

Mina’s eyes went wide. “Wait— what? What details about the incident did I miss?”

Jake launched into a very exaggerated retelling, complete with hand gestures and dramatic gasps, while you buried your face in your hands. By the end, Mina was laughing so hard she was leaning against you for support.

“Come on,” Jake said, standing up and offering you his hand. “We’re dragging you to the off-campus café. Our treat. Consider it damage control.”

You hesitated, glancing around the quad like you might spot Sunghoon lurking. Jay noticed.

“He’s at the gym right now,” Jay said quietly, reading your mind too easily. “Won’t be done for another hour. You’re safe, promise.”

Against your better judgment, you let them pull you up. Mina tagged along, clearly entertained by the whole situation. The four of you walked across campus, Jake and Jay flanking you like oversized, annoyingly attractive bodyguards.

At the café, they claimed a big corner booth and refused to let you pay for anything.

“Think of it as reparations for our best friend being a walking emotional hazard,” Jake said, sliding a strawberry latte toward you.

Jay leaned back, stirring his iced americano. “He’s not a bad guy. Not really. He’s just… complicated. But you? You’ve got that fire. You went toe-to-toe with him in front of the whole campus. Most girls either run or throw themselves at him. You did neither. It’s got him interested.”

“Interested?” you echoed, voice drier than the pastries on the table.

Jake grinned around a bite of cake. “Very. He hasn’t shut up about the debate since it happened. Keeps calling you ‘that loudmouth transfer’ but there’s this look in his eyes…”

Mina kicked you under the table, eyes sparkling with gossip. “See? Told you it wasn’t nothing.”

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks felt warm. “I’m not trying to get his attention.”

“Too late,” Jay said with a shrug. “You already have it. So we’re here to help you navigate the chaos. Rule number one: don’t be alone with him when he’s in one of his moods. Rule number two: if he starts smirking like he wants to eat you alive, run.”

“Or don’t,” Jake added with a wink. “We won’t judge.”

The afternoon passed surprisingly easily. They teased you relentlessly but also fed you snacks, told embarrassing stories about Sunghoon from first year (including the time he got caught smoking on the roof and charmed his way out of trouble), and generally acted like chaotic older brothers who enjoyed stirring the pot.

When it started getting dark, they walked you and Mina all the way back to your dorm building again.

“Same time tomorrow?” Jake asked, leaning against the entrance door. “We’ll keep playing interference.”

“You don’t have to—”

“We want to,” Jay cut in, surprisingly sincere for once. “Sunghoon’s our boy, but we’re not blind. You’re good for the chaos around here. Don’t let him scare you off completely.”

They left with matching grins and lazy waves, disappearing into the evening crowd.

Mina closed the dorm door behind you two and immediately turned. “Okay. They’re kinda hot. And weirdly protective? What alternate universe did we fall into?”

You collapsed onto your bed, staring at the ceiling.

“I have no idea.”

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The “same time tomorrow” became a dangerous little routine.

For the next few days, Jake and Jay kept appearing like chaotic guardian angels. Steering you away from Sunghoon’s usual haunts, dragging you and Mina into random cafés, empty study rooms, or late-night convenience store runs. Their teasing never stopped, but underneath it you could tell they were genuinely trying to give you breathing room.

Until Friday night.

Mina had convinced you to join another off-campus gathering. This one smaller, at a quiet bar near the back gate that mostly engineering and business majors frequented. “Low stress,” she promised. “Just drinks and vibes.”

You should’ve known better.

You were halfway through your second drink, laughing at something Mina said, when the air in the room shifted. That familiar heavy presence settled over your shoulders like a warning.

Sunghoon had just walked in.

And he wasn’t alone.

Hyejin, the same girl from behind the arts building was tucked against his side, one of his arms slung casually around her shoulders. She looked flushed and pleased, leaning into him like she belonged there. Sunghoon’s expression was its usual detached mask, but his hand rested possessively on her waist as they moved through the crowd. His eyes scanned the room once… and immediately locked onto you.

Your stomach dropped.

Jay and Jake were already at a table in the corner. The moment they spotted Sunghoon, Jake muttered a quiet “shit” and tried to wave you over to them, but it was too late.

Sunghoon’s gaze didn’t waver. That dangerous little smirk slowly curved his lips as he leaned down to say something in Hyejin’s ear. She glanced in your direction, her smile turning sharp and catlike.

Mina grabbed your wrist. “We can leave—”

“No,” you said quietly, forcing your shoulders back. “I’m not running.”

Jake and Jay appeared at your side like magic, flanking you again.

“Bad timing,” Jay murmured under his breath. “He wasn’t supposed to show up here tonight.”

Sunghoon didn’t come straight over. Instead, he guided Hyejin to a table not far from yours, close enough that you could see everything. Close enough that every time he leaned in to speak to her, every time his fingers brushed her arm or tucked her hair behind her ear, you felt it like a spark against your skin.

Hyejin played it up, laughing too loudly at whatever he said, touching his chest, pressing close. Sunghoon let her. But his eyes kept drifting back to you. Dark. Unreadable. Challenging.

Jake leaned in, voice low. “We know our bestfriend. He’s doing this on purpose. Don’t give him the reaction he wants.”

“Too late,” you muttered, gripping your glass tighter. “I already want to throw my drink at his head.”

Jay chuckled despite the tension. “Violent. We like it. But seriously. Breathe. He’s testing you.”

Sunghoon finally stood, murmuring something to Hyejin before walking over to your group with that effortless, predatory stride. Hyejin stayed at their table, watching with narrowed eyes.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Sunghoon said, voice low and smooth as he stopped right in front of you. His gaze flicked to Jake and Jay for a split second. Like it spoke a silent 'what the fuck are you two doing' before returning to you. “Keeping my friends busy, Y/N?”

Jake threw an arm around your shoulders again, grinning. “Just making sure she doesn’t get bored. You know how it is.”

Jay nodded, casual as ever. “We’ve been showing her the better side of campus life. Less choking in corridors, more actual fun.”

Sunghoon’s jaw ticked, but that smirk stayed in place. He stepped closer, towering over you, the scent of his cologne cutting through the bar smell.

“You don’t need them babysitting you,” he said quietly, eyes locked on yours. “You’re a big girl. You proved that on the debate stage.”

The tension crackled. Hyejin was staring daggers from across the room now. Mina looked ready to jump in. Jake and Jay stayed close, but even they seemed to know this moment had been coming.

You lifted your chin, meeting Sunghoon’s gaze head-on. “And you don’t need to parade your latest toy around just to get my attention. It’s pathetic.”

Something flashed in his eyes. Amusement, irritation, maybe eveb heat. He leaned in just enough that only you could hear.

“Jealous, baby?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

Before you could snap back, Jake cleared his throat loudly. “Alright, big guy and girl. Let’s not cause a scene. We were just leaving anyway.”

Jay was already gently steering you toward the door, Mina grabbing your bag. Sunghoon didn’t stop you this time, but you felt his stare burning into your back the entire way out . The same way it always did.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The cool night air hit you like a slap as you stepped outside. Jake let out a long breath.

“Well… that went about as well as expected.”

Mina was still wide-eyed. “He brought her here? On purpose?”

“Obviously,” Jay said, running a hand through his hair. “He’s done playing hide and seek. He knows we’ve been keeping you away from him.”

You walked in silence for a bit, the four of them sticking close as they escorted you back toward the dorms again. Jake kept glancing over his shoulder like he expected Sunghoon to appear out of the shadows.

At the entrance of Building 3, Jay stopped you before you went inside.

“Look… he’s complicated as hell. But the fact that he’s bothered enough to pull this shit?” He shrugged. “Means you’re under his skin. Just be careful, yeah?”

Jake gave you a softer smile than usual. “We’ll keep running interference as long as you want. But eventually… you’re gonna have to decide if you want to keep running or finally face him.”

You nodded, throat tight, and headed upstairs with Mina.

Later that night, lying in bed while rain pattered against the window, you couldn’t stop replaying the way Sunghoon had looked at you. It had looked possessive, irritated, and even hungry.

Hyejin was on his arm.

But his eyes had been on you the whole time.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

Saturday night arrived wrapped in neon lights and the low hum of bass.

Jay and Jake had ditched the usual “babysitting” duty for once. They told you they had plans with “the guys” which everyone on campus knew meant Sunghoon and the rest of their tight little circle. You tried not to think about it. You really did.

Instead, you and Mina holed up in your dorm with takeout and a drama, pretending everything was normal.

Meanwhile, across campus in a private room at one of the more exclusive off-campus lounges, the boys were sprawled out like they owned the place.

Sunghoon sat in the corner booth, legs stretched out, nursing a glass of whiskey. His expression was unreadable, but his fingers tapped restlessly against the glass. Hyejin had tried to come along earlier but he’d brushed her off with a cold “not tonight.” She hadn’t taken it well.

Jake leaned back, spinning an empty soju bottle on the table. “So… you gonna keep pretending you’re not obsessed with the transfer girl or what?”

Sunghoon’s eyes flicked up, sharp. “She’s not obsessed with me?”

Jay snorted, kicking his feet up. “She’s trying not to be. We’ve been keeping her busy so she doesn’t have to deal with your moody ass. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Sunghoon’s smirk was slow and dangerous. “You two have been playing guard dogs for her. Cute.” He took a sip, voice dropping. “How’s she doing? Still acting like she doesn’t care?”

Jake grinned. “She cares. Saw the way she looked at you and Hyejin last night. Jealousy looks good on her. Fire in her eyes and everything.”

“She called Hyejin my ‘latest toy’,” Sunghoon said quietly, almost amused. “Got under my skin more than it should’ve.”

Jay laughed. “Because it’s true. You’ve been dragging that girl around like a prop ever since Y/N started avoiding you. Real mature, man.”

Sunghoon didn’t deny it. He just stared into his glass, jaw tight. The silence stretched for a moment before he spoke again.

“She’s different.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Jake said, suddenly more serious. “She went head-to-head with you in front of the entire school and didn’t flinch. Most girls throw themselves at you or run away crying. She just… matches your energy. It’s kinda hot.”

Jay nodded, stealing a fry from the table. “We like her. She’s got spine. Doesn’t take your bullshit. But she’s also not stupid. She knows your reputation. The corridor thing with Soojin? She saw that. She’s scared, but she’s also stubborn as hell.”

Sunghoon’s expression darkened at the mention of the corridor. “She ran.”

“Can you blame her?” Jake raised an eyebrow. “You had your hand around your ex’s throat. Not exactly boyfriend material.”

Sunghoon stayed quiet, but his knuckles went white around the glass.

The conversation drifted after that. Classes, upcoming exams, stupid stories from practice but Sunghoon kept circling back. Asking small questions about you. What you talked about. Whether you mentioned him. How you laughed with Mina and the others.

Jake eventually groaned, throwing a napkin at him. “Dude, just talk to her like a normal person instead of doing this possessive staring shit. Or keep using Hyejin as a shield. Your choice.”

“I’m not using her as a shield,” Sunghoon muttered.

Jay smirked. “Sure you’re not.”

The night went on, the three of them falling into their usual rhythm. Sunghoon brooding in the corner while Jake and Jay roasted him between shots. But underneath the banter, something was shifting.

Even his best friends could see it.

You were no longer just another girl who caught his attention.

You were becoming a problem he didn’t want to solve.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

Back in your dorm, your phone buzzed.

Jake: he’s in a mood tonight. keep avoiding the usual spots tomorrow 😂

Jay: we tried to talk sense into him. he’s hopeless. you good?

You stared at the messages, heart doing that stupid flip again.

Mina peeked over your shoulder. “They’re really out here playing double agents, huh?”

You set the phone down and leaned back against your pillows, the distant sound of rain filling the room.

“Yeah… they are.”

But you both knew it wouldn’t last forever.

Sunghoon was done playing games.

And Jay and Jake? They could only run interference for so long before their best friend decided to stop waiting.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

Sunday night broke the fragile peace you’d been clinging to.

You’d gone back to the 24-hour study lounge after midnight, telling yourself you were done hiding. The place was nearly empty, just the soft hum of the AC and rain streaking down the tall windows. You claimed your old corner desk, earphones in, determined to finish a problem set.

At 1:32 AM the door opened with a slow, deliberate push.

You didn’t have to look up. You already knew.

Heavy footsteps crossed the room. A bag dropped onto the table directly across from yours, closer than he’d ever sat before. The scent of cigarette smoke, and that expensive cologne hit you like a warning.

You kept your eyes on your notes, pen moving across the page even as your pulse spiked.

Sunghoon didn’t speak at first. He just sat there, long legs stretched out, watching you. The silence stretched, thick and electric, until you finally glanced up.

His dark eyes were already locked on you. No smirk this time. Just raw, unfiltered intensity. Hair slightly damp from his late-night shower, black hoodie unzipped to show the sharp line of his collarbones, knuckles still faintly bruised. He looked like sin wrapped in control.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said lowly. His voice cut through the quiet like a blade.

You leaned back in your chair, refusing to shrink. “Smart of me, don’t you think?”

He stood up slowly, rounding the table until he was right beside you. Towering. Close enough that you had to tilt your head to meet his gaze. He placed one hand on the back of your chair, the other on the table, effectively caging you in without touching you.

Your breath caught.

“Running away with my friends every time I get close?” He leaned down, voice dropping even lower, rough around the edges. “Cute, Y/N. But I’m done with the games.”

Heat rolled off him. You could feel it against your skin. That dangerous mix of anger and something darker, hungrier. His eyes dragged slowly down your face, lingering on your lips for a beat too long before flicking back up.

“I heard you watched me with Hyejin,” he murmured, almost amused. “I saw the way you looked at us. Tell me… did it piss you off?”

Your cheeks burned, but you held his stare. “You’re delusional if you think I care who you’re kissing.”

Sunghoon’s smirk finally appeared. Slow, sharp, and devastating. He leaned in closer, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“Liar.”

The single word sent a shiver straight down your spine. You hated how your body reacted. Heart hammering, skin tingling, thighs pressing together under the desk.

Before you could snap back, his fingers caught your chin, tilting your face up to his. Not rough, but firm. Controlling. His thumb brushed your lower lip, dark eyes burning.

“You’ve been in my head since that fucking debate,” he growled softly. “That fire in your eyes when you yelled at me in front of everyone… the way you didn’t flinch when I got close. No one talks to me like that.”

His face was inches from yours now. You could feel his breath, warm against your mouth. The tension was suffocating. Heavy, electric, months of slow-burn finally snapping.

You whispered, voice shaky but defiant, “Then what are you gonna do about it?”

Sunghoon’s control fractured.

He kissed you like he’d been starving for it.

Hard. Possessive. All teeth and heat and barely restrained violence. One hand slid into your hair, gripping just tight enough to tilt your head how he wanted. The other braced on the table as he leaned over you, devouring the small gasp you let out.

It wasn’t sweet. It was months of tension exploding. It was angry, desperate, addictive. His tongue swept into your mouth like he owned it, and for a moment you kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers fisting in his hoodie, pulling him closer.

He made a low sound in the back of his throat, half groan, half warning and bit your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were blown dark, breathing ragged, that dangerous smirk smeared across his swollen lips.

“Still think you don’t care?” he rasped.

You were dizzy, lips tingling, chest heaving. The lounge suddenly felt too small, too hot. Rain hammered against the glass like it was trying to get in.

Sunghoon didn’t wait for an answer. He kissed you again, slower this time but no less devastating, one hand sliding down to grip your waist, fingers digging in like he was afraid you’d disappear.

When he finally pulled away, forehead resting against yours, voice rough and low:

“You’re mine to ruin now, baby.”

You didn’t go back to your dorm until almost dawn.

And when you did, lips still swollen and mind spinning, you knew nothing would ever be the same again.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The next morning came too bright and too soon.

Your lips still felt tender, slightly swollen from the way Sunghoon had kissed you like he wanted to consume you whole. Every time you looked in the mirror, the evidence stared back at you. Pink and puffy, impossible to hide. You tried to cover it with lip balm and a hoodie pulled low over your face, but Mina still did a double-take the second you stepped out of the dorm.

“Girl… what the hell happened to your mouth?” she whispered as you started walking toward campus.

You avoided her eyes. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” she grinned, linking her arm with yours. “That looks suspiciously like—”

Before she could finish, Jake and Jay appeared at the main gate like they’d been waiting for you. The moment they got close, both of them froze.

Jake’s eyes zeroed in on your lips instantly. His grin spread slow and wicked. “No fucking way.”

Jay let out a low whistle, stepping closer to inspect you like you were a crime scene. “Well, well, well… look who finally got a taste of the devil. Those lips are swollen, debate girl. Sunghoon doesn’t do gentle, does he?”

Your face burned. “Shut up.”

Mina’s jaw dropped. “Wait— Sunghoon?! Last night?! In the library?!”

Jake threw his arm around your shoulders, laughing. “We told you he was restless. Damn. He really went for it, huh? You look like you got attacked by a very determined vacuum.”

Jay smirked, walking on your other side. “Proud of you for surviving. Most girls tap out after five minutes. You’ve got his attention and his teeth marks. Iconic.”

You shoved both of them, mortified but unable to stop the small smile tugging at your sore lips. “You two are the worst bodyguards ever.”

“Clearly we suck at our job,” Jake said cheerfully. “We were supposed to keep him away from you, not deliver you straight into his mouth.”

The four of you kept walking across the central quad, their relentless teasing filling the morning air. Mina kept shooting you wide-eyed looks, equal parts horrified and thrilled.

Then you saw it.

Near the fountain where you’d first properly seen Sunghoon weeks ago, he was standing with Hyejin. Her voice was raised, sharp and upset. His posture was cold, arms crossed, face completely blank.

“I’m done,” Sunghoon said flatly, voice carrying just enough for you to hear as your group approached. “Whatever this was, it’s over. Don’t call me. Don’t text me. We’re finished.”

Hyejin looked stunned, then furious. “You’re such an asshole! You used me to make her jealous, didn’t you?!”

Sunghoon didn’t even flinch. “And it worked. Leave.”

He turned away from her without another word, leaving her standing there fuming. The second his eyes found your group, specifically you, that dangerous smirk returned. His gaze dropped straight to your swollen lips and darkened with obvious satisfaction.

Without hesitation, he changed direction and fell into step right beside you, slipping easily between you and Jake like he belonged there.

“Morning,” he said casually, voice low and rough, eyes still glued to your mouth. His fingers brushed against yours for half a secon, deliberate, teasing before he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Jake choked on a laugh. “Dude. You just dumped Hyejin in public and immediately came to claim your new girl? Zero chill.”

Jay shook his head, amused. “We literally just finished teasing her about the swollen lips. Timing is insane.”

Mina was staring between the two of you like she was watching a drama unfold in real time. “This is… a lot.”

Sunghoon ignored all of them, leaning down slightly so only you could hear. “Sleep well, baby?”

The memory of his mouth on yours, the way he’d gripped your hair, the low growl in his throat. It all rushed back. Your cheeks heated.

You shot him a defiant look even as your pulse raced. “Better than you, probably.”

His smirk widened. “True. I couldn’t stop thinking about how you tasted.”

Jake groaned loudly. “We’re right here, man.”

“Walk faster then,” Sunghoon replied without missing a beat, eyes never leaving you.

The five of you continued across campus together . Mina still in shock, Jay and Jake exchanging knowing glances and throwing occasional teasing comments, while Sunghoon walked dangerously close to your side.

Every now and then his hand would brush yours. Sometimes his shoulder bumped yours. He didn’t say much else, but the way he looked at you, possessive, heated, satisfied said everything.

The distance was gone.

And as the morning sun climbed higher, you realized something terrifyingly clear.

Park Sunghoon had decided you were his.

And he wasn’t planning on letting you go.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

That same night, the universe decided to throw gasoline on the fire.

A big off-campus party was happening at one of the third-year business majors’ houses. The kind with too many people, too much alcohol, and way too many bad decisions. Mina dragged you there saying you needed to “loosen up after the library incident.” Jay and Jake were already there when you arrived. And of course… so was Sunghoon.

The moment you walked in, his eyes found you through the crowd like a predator locking onto prey. He was leaning against the wall in a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up, looking unfairly hot. His gaze dropped to your still-swollen lips and darkened instantly.

The dares started innocently enough.

Truth or Dare in a crowded circle on the living room floor. Jake was the instigator, as always.

First few rounds were tame. Then Jay smirked and looked straight at you and Sunghoon sitting across from each other.

“Y/N. Truth or Dare?”

“Dare,” you said, refusing to back down.

Jay’s grin turned evil. “Kiss Sunghoon. On the mouth. Thirty seconds.”

The circle exploded with hoots and whistles. Sunghoon’s smirk was slow and dangerous as he leaned back, legs spread, waiting.

You crawled across the circle, heart pounding. The second your lips met his, the kiss turned hungry. His hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you in harder, tongue sliding against yours like he’d been waiting all day for this. The thirty seconds felt like thirty minutes. When you finally pulled away, breathing hard, the whole room was losing it.

“Fucking hell,” Jake laughed. “That wasn’t a kiss, that was foreplay.”

Sunghoon’s eyes stayed on you the entire night, dark and promising.

More dares followed. Someone dared Sunghoon to sit you on his lap for the next three rounds. He did. Hands possessively on your hips, lips occasionally brushing your neck when no one was looking, whispering filthy little things in your ear that made your thighs clench.

Then came the final dare.

“Seven minutes in heaven,” Mina announced, spinning an empty bottle. It landed pointing directly between you and Sunghoon

The room erupted.

“Get in the closet, you two!”

“No escaping this time!”

Sunghoon stood first, offering you his hand with that signature dangerous smirk. You took it. The second the closet door shut behind you, the noise of the party became muffled.

It was dark. Tight. Just enough space for the two of you.

Sunghoon didn’t waste a single second.

He shoved you against the wall, mouth crashing into yours with raw hunger. This wasn’t the controlled tension from the library . This was weeks of frustration exploding.

“Been hard since I saw how swollen your lips were this morning,” he growled against your mouth, hands already sliding under your top. “Thinking about how they looked wrapped around my cock instead.”

You moaned into the kiss as he palmed your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. His hips pressed forward, letting you feel exactly how hard he was through his jeans.

“Sunghoon—” you gasped.

He dropped to his knees fast, yanking your pants and underwear down in one rough motion. No teasing. No patience left. He threw one of your legs over his shoulder and buried his face between your thighs like a man starved.

His tongue was relentless. Licking, sucking, fucking into you while two fingers curled deep inside. You had to bite your hand to keep from crying out too loud. The wet sounds were obscene in the small closet.

When you came on his tongue, shaking and whimpering his name, he stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like it was nothing.

Then he spun you around, pressing your chest against the wall.

“Gonna fuck you now, baby,” he rasped, already undoing his belt. “Been dying to feel this tight pussy since the debate stage.”

He pushed in with one deep thrust, burying himself to the hilt. You both groaned at the feeling. He was big, stretching you perfectly, and he didn’t give you time to adjust. Just started fucking you hard and deep, one hand over your mouth to muffle your moans, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.

“Fuck— so good,” he panted against your neck, biting down as he pounded into you. “This pussy is mine now. Say it.”

“Yours— Sunghoon, fuck—”

The seven minutes were long gone. No one came to get you. The sounds of the party continued outside while he fucked you like he owned you.

When he finally came, he buried himself deep and groaned your name against your shoulder, hips stuttering.

You stayed like that for a moment, panting, sweaty, his cock still inside you before he slowly pulled out and turned you around to face him.

He kissed you again, slower this time but still hungry.

“Told you I’d ruin you,” he whispered, thumb brushing your bottom lip.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

The next few days after the party were a whirlwind of stolen touches, heated kisses in hidden corners, and Sunghoon’s sudden inability to keep his hands off you.

He walked you to every class. Sat with you in the cafeteria like it was the most natural thing in the world. Kissed you against your dorm door at night until Mina started banging on the wall telling you two to “get a room.” Jay and Jake gave up pretending they were bodyguards and just started roasting both of you instead.

But Sunghoon still hadn’t said anything official.

Until that Friday night.

It was raining again. That sharp, cold Seoul rain that always seemed to show up when things got intense. You were back in the 24-hour study lounge, the same place where everything had started. Only this time, Sunghoon was sitting right next to you instead of across the table.

You were trying to focus on notes when he suddenly closed your laptop.

You looked up, startled. “What—”

He turned toward you, one arm resting on the back of your chair, the other reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His dark eyes were serious in a way you’d rarely seen.

“I’m not good at this,” he said quietly, voice low. “The whole… relationship thing. I’ve never done it. Never wanted to.”

Your heart started beating faster.

He leaned in closer, forehead almost touching yours.

“But I can’t stop thinking about you. Not just fucking you. Though trust me, I think about that constantly.” His lips curved into a small, dangerous smirk for a second before softening again. “I think about you arguing with me. The way you don’t flinch when I get intense. The way you looked at me the morning after I dumped Hyejin like you were proud of me for finally choosing right.”

He took your hand, threading your fingers together.

“I don’t want anyone else looking at you. I don’t want anyone else touching you. I don’t want to hide this anymore.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “Be my girlfriend, Y/N. For real. Not just whatever the fuck we’ve been doing.”

The rain pounded harder against the windows.

Sunghoon’s usual cold mask was completely gone. He looked almost vulnerable, waiting for your answer like it actually mattered.

You smiled, slow and teasing, even as your chest felt too full.

“Took you long enough, Park Sunghoon.”

He let out a breathless laugh, the tension breaking. Then he was pulling you into his lap, kissing you deep and slow and sweet in a way he’d never done before.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, eyes closed.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered. “Officially. And I’m yours. Even when I’m an asshole. Even when shit gets messy.”

You kissed him again, softer this time.

“I know what I signed up for.”

He smirked against your lips. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go.”

The two of you stayed like that for a long time. Tangled together in the quiet lounge while the rain fell outside.

Later that night, when he walked you back to your dorm, he held your hand the entire way. No hiding. No games.

When you reached your building, he pulled you in for one last kiss, deep and claiming, before murmuring against your mouth:

“Girlfriend.”

You smiled. “Boyfriend.”

His eyes flashed with something warm and possessive.

“Say it again.”

You laughed softly. “My boyfriend.”

Sunghoon groaned, kissing you harder. “Fuck. I like the sound of that way too much.”

The next morning, the entire campus would know.

Park Sunghoon had a girlfriend.

And he wasn’t planning on keeping it quiet.

<𝟑 .ᐟ

@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

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comment down below to be added! :3

[heesvnqie]

Desire unleash part 3 plssss like i need it,it was insainly beautiful btw💋😘😝🤤

yayay i would love to write part 3 but im running a bit short of ideas for it like what would you like to read, honey?

tell me and ill cook up something! :3

[heesvnqie]

EPILOGUE OF FEEL ME PLSSSSSS

gurlll i made part 2! tell me how you liked it! hope you'll enjoy! hehe!:3

[heesvnqie]

desire:unleash was soo good,epilogue please 🙏

i made a pt.2, honey! make sure to check! :3

[heesvnqie]

omg hiiiii i love ur stories! ive never done this so i hope im asking nicely but i have a request for one!

a story with ni-ki w reader and they’re on dancing w the stars. they’re selected as a duo and reader, a sweet actress with on and off dance experience, and niki form a bond with him being intrigued by her! even teaching her words in japanese, getting past a potential language barrier, and him helping her improve her dance skills! maybe the fans start noticing his giddy he can be around her!

this is a self insert i couldn’t help it lollolol

thank you so much sending love 💞💞💞

Dancing Into Your Heart ft. nishimura riki

pairing: nishimura riki (ENHYPEN) × fem!reader genre: dance, comfort, mutual pining, fluff word count: 5.4k author's note: this was such a cute request! i had so much fun writing this. hope this makes your heart flutter! :3

The air in the Dancing with the Stars studio was electric, thick with the scent of stage makeup, fresh hairspray, and that unmistakable buzz of live television anticipation. Bright, unforgiving lights hung from the rafters like stars that had descended too close to earth, casting everything in a glamorous but slightly intimidating glow.

You stood backstage among the other celebrity contestants, your fingers nervously twisting the soft fabric of your practice top.

As a rising actress beloved for your sweet, approachable charm, those romantic comedy leads where you played the girl-next-door with a heart of gold, and the occasional heartfelt drama that had fans reaching for tissues, you were no stranger to cameras.

But this? This was entirely different.

Dance had always been an on-and-off thing in your life. A few childhood ballet and jazz classes your parents signed you up for because “it builds confidence,” some choreographed routines for music videos early in your career, and the occasional fun TikTok dance you’d film in your trailer between takes. You could hold a beat, smile through the steps, and sell the emotion, but competitive Latin, ballroom, or contemporary?

That felt like stepping into a whole new world. When the producers had reached out and offered you a spot on the show, you’d laughed in disbelief at first, then said yes because it sounded like the kind of wild, out-of-your-comfort-zone adventure that might be good for your soul (and your career). Now, standing here waiting for the pairings to be announced, your stomach was doing Olympic-level flips.

The host’s voice boomed through the speakers, hyping up the audience. Names were called one by one, familiar faces from sports, music, and acting pairing up with professional dancers. Your heart raced faster with every announcement. Then, finally,

“And next… our talented actress known for stealing hearts on screen, Y/N… your partner is… the incredible dancer and maknae of ENHYPEN, Ni-ki!”

The crowd erupted in cheers so loud it vibrated through your chest. The cameras swung toward you as Ni-ki emerged from the opposite side of the stage. He was taller than you’d imagined up close, with those sharp, striking features, expressive dark eyes, and an effortless aura of cool confidence that came from years of performing on massive stages around the world. His hair was styled just so, and he moved with that natural grace even when he was just walking. He gave a polite, respectful bow to the audience and then turned his full attention to you.

Your eyes met, and for a split second, the noise around you faded. There was something in his gaze. Curiosity, intrigue, like he was already sizing up this new partner who wasn’t a trained idol or performer in the same way. Not judgment, but genuine interest. You offered him your brightest, sweetest smile, the one that had carried you through countless red carpets and interviews, and extended your hand.

“Hi… I’m Y/N,” you said, your voice soft but warm, trying to hide the nervous tremble. “I have to be honest, I’m really excited but also a little terrified. I’m not a professional dancer at all. I’ve had some experience here and there, but I’m probably going to need a ton of patience and help.”

Ni-ki took your hand in his. His grip was warm, steady, and surprisingly gentle for someone who could execute flips and intricate footwork like it was nothing. A small, genuine smile curved his lips, softening the cool image he usually projected. “I’m Ni-ki,” he replied, his English accented but clear and confident. He tilted his head slightly, studying you for a moment longer than necessary. “Don’t worry. We will be a good team. I help you every step. You have… nice energy. I think we can make something special.”

The way he said it, with that spark of intrigue in his eyes, made your cheeks warm. He wasn’t just going through the motions like some pairings you’d seen in past seasons. He seemed truly curious about you, the actress who smiled like sunshine but admitted her weaknesses right away. As the cameras captured your first handshake and the audience clapped, you felt the beginning of something shift between you two. This wasn’t just a competition pairing. It felt like the start of a real connection.

Backstage after the announcement, while the crew bustled around preparing for the first rehearsal schedule, Ni-ki stayed close. He asked simple questions about your favorite roles, what kind of music you liked, whether you got nervous on set the same way he did before big performances. His English was good, but every now and then he’d pause, searching for the right word, and you’d patiently wait or gently suggest one. The language barrier was there, but it didn’t feel like a wall. It felt like something you’d figure out together.

Little did you know, that intrigued look in his eyes would only grow stronger with every rehearsal. And for you, being paired with someone as talented and kind as Ni-ki already made the whole daunting experience feel a little less scary… and a lot more exciting.

The morning after the pairing announcement, you arrived at the spacious rehearsal studio with a mix of excitement and butterflies swirling in your stomach. As a Korean actress who had built her career in both Korean dramas and some international projects, you were used to long hours on set, emotional scenes that drained you, and the pressure of perfection.

But dancing competitively on Dancing with the Stars was a whole different challenge. Your Korean background meant you were fluent in the language and comfortable navigating the entertainment industry back home, but here in this American spotlight, everything felt amplified.

The studio smelled like polished wood floors and faint sweat from previous sessions. Mirrors lined every wall, reflecting the bright overhead lights and making the room feel endless. You were already changed into comfortable practice clothes, leggings and a soft oversized hoodie, when Ni-ki walked in. He was dressed simply in black sweats and a loose t-shirt, but his presence immediately filled the space.

Ni-ki, the Japanese-born maknae of ENHYPEN, had moved to Korea as a trainee and mastered the language after debut, becoming fluent in Korean while keeping his native Japanese close to his heart. That shared East Asian connection already felt comforting to you.

“Annyeong,” he greeted you in Korean with a small, warm smile, bowing slightly out of habit. His Korean was smooth and natural now, though you could still catch the subtle Japanese accent that made it charming. “Ready for today?”

You returned the bow and smiled brightly, your sweet actress charm shining through even in your nervousness. “Annyeong, Ni-ki! Honestly… I’m a bit scared. I’ve done some dance for dramas and MVs back in Korea, but nothing this intense. I hope I don’t hold you back too much.”

He chuckled softly, his dark eyes lighting up with that same intrigued look from the night before. He seemed genuinely curious about you—the Korean actress who carried herself with such genuine warmth. “You won’t hold me back. I watched some of your clips last night. You have good rhythm and expression. That’s important for dance. We start slow.”

The first hour was dedicated to basics. The choreographer had assigned you a cha-cha for Week One. An upbeat, flirty Latin number.

Ni-ki demonstrated the steps with effortless precision, his body moving like it was made for music. You tried to follow, but your feet tangled, your hips felt stiff, and you kept laughing at yourself in embarrassment.

Instead of frustration, Ni-ki stopped and stepped closer. “It’s okay. Many people start like this.” He gently placed his hands on your shoulders to adjust your posture. “Relax here. Breathe with the beat. Think of it like acting. Your character is confident, playful. Show that in your body.”

His touch was professional but caring, and you felt your cheeks warm. As a Korean girl who had grown up watching idols, you knew how talented he was, but up close, his patience surprised you. He broke everything down slowly, counting in both Korean and English for you. When words failed, he’d demonstrate again, sometimes exaggerating the movements to make you laugh.

During the first break, you sat on the floor with water bottles. The language barrier was minimal since he spoke Korean so well, but he wanted to connect deeper. “I teach you Japanese,” he said suddenly, eyes sparkling with that boyish interest. He pointed at your determined face. “Kawaii. It means cute. You look kawaii when you focus.”

You repeated it carefully, your Korean accent making it sound adorable. “Kawaii… like this?” You tried your best imitation, and he burst into a bright, giddy laugh—the kind that made his eyes crinkle and his cool idol image melt away for a moment.

“Yes! Perfect,” he said, switching back to Korean. “You learn fast. Like me when I first came to Korea. Everything was new, but I practiced every day.”

You opened up a little more. “It must have been hard. I’m Korean, so being here in the US for this show already feels big. But having a partner who understands the idol and actor life… it helps.”

He nodded, intrigued. “I like that. You’re sweet but strong. Most celebrities pretend they’re perfect. You just say you need help. Honest. I respect that.”

From there, the rehearsal flowed better. He helped you with footwork by turning it into storytelling, something you excelled at as an actress. “This step? You’re teasing your partner. Eyes here, smile like in your dramas.” Slowly, your movements became smoother. He celebrated every small improvement with genuine enthusiasm, ruffling your hair lightly or giving you a high-five that lingered just a second longer than necessary.

By the end of the long session, you were tired but glowing. Ni-ki walked you to the door, still chatting. “Tomorrow we do more. You did well today, Y/N.”

As you left, you caught him in the mirror reflection—watching you with that soft, intrigued smile. Little did you know, the staff had already started whispering about how different he seemed around you… more open, more alive.

The days blurred into a whirlwind of rehearsals, but by the end of the first full week, something magical was starting to happen between you and Ni-ki. The studio had become your second home, mirrors fogged up from hours of practice, the floor marked with tape for formations, and a playlist of upbeat Latin tracks mixed with some of your favorite K-pop songs for warm-ups. As a Korean actress who thrived on emotional connection and storytelling, you were slowly discovering that dance could feel just as heartfelt as a good script. And Ni-ki? He was turning out to be the most patient, fun, and intriguingly sweet partner you could have asked for.

One evening, after a particularly long rehearsal for the cha-cha, the clock had already ticked past 10 PM. The other couples had left, but you and Ni-ki stayed behind. Your legs were aching, and you kept messing up the same tricky turn. Instead of pushing through with strict drills, Ni-ki suddenly clapped his hands and grinned that bright, boyish smile that made his sharp features soften into pure cuteness.

“Okay, break time! No more serious dance. We do something fun,” he declared in Korean, his Japanese accent peeking through adorably. He jogged over to his bag and pulled out two strawberry milk boxes and some homemade onigiri wrapped neatly. “I made these. Japanese style. Try?”

You accepted one with wide eyes, your sweet smile lighting up the room. “Ni-ki, you’re spoiling me already! Arigatou… wait, is that right?” You tried the Japanese word he’d taught you earlier, tilting your head cutely.

He laughed, a light, giddy sound that echoed off the mirrors. “Almost! Arigatou gozaimasu for polite. But for me, just arigatou is cute from you.” He sat cross-legged on the floor beside you, closer than strictly necessary, and demonstrated how to open the milk box. His eyes sparkled with intrigue as he watched you take a sip, clearly enjoying these quiet moments where it was just the two of you.

To keep things light and help with the language barrier (even though his Korean was impressively fluent after years in ENHYPEN), he started a new game. “Japanese lesson time! Fun words only.” He pointed at the onigiri. “Onigiri. Rice ball. Your turn. Say it while doing a silly dance move.”

You stood up dramatically like you were in one of your rom-com scenes, holding the onigiri like a prop. “Onigiri~!” you sang, doing an exaggerated, clumsy cha-cha step that ended in a little spin. Ni-ki doubled over laughing, clutching his stomach. The cool, composed idol image completely vanished—he was giddy, cheeks flushed, eyes crinkled in pure delight.

“Sugoi! Amazing! You are natural comedian,” he said, still chuckling as he stood to join you. He taught you more: “Kawaii—cute, like your smile when you nail a step.” He poked your cheek gently. “Baka—means silly, like me when I forget English in interviews.” You repeated them back with your soft Korean accent, and every time you got one right, he’d give you a high-five that turned into a playful hand-hold for just a second too long.

The fun turned back to dance naturally. He pulled you up and dimmed the studio lights a bit for a relaxed vibe. “Dance is story, remember? Let’s make this cha-cha our own. You’re the charming actress who teases the mysterious dancer.” He demonstrated a flirty turn, then guided you through it with light hands on your waist. You stumbled once, bumping into his chest, and both of you froze before bursting into giggles.

“Sorry! I’m such a baka,” you said, using the new word.

Ni-ki’s ears turned pink, but his smile was huge. “No sorry. This is best part. You make practice fun. Usually I’m strict with myself, but with you… I feel happy.” His voice softened, and that intrigued look deepened—he was clearly drawn to your genuine sweetness, the way you didn’t pretend to be a pro but gave everything your all.

You spent the next hour mixing technique with playfulness. He’d correct your hip movement by having you imagine walking down a red carpet in one of your dramas, then suddenly switch to teaching you a silly Japanese tongue twister that had you both tripping over syllables and laughing until your sides hurt. “Nani ga ii? What’s good? You are good partner,” he’d say between lessons, his giddy energy making the late night feel like an adventure rather than work.

By the time you wrapped up, your cha-cha was noticeably smoother. The turns felt flirty, your posture more confident, and the chemistry between you sparkled. As you gathered your things, Ni-ki walked you to the exit, still buzzing. “Tomorrow we add lifts? Only if you want. You’re getting stronger fast.”

Outside, the cool night air hit you both. He hesitated, then added with a shy grin, “I like this. Dancing with you. Suki… means I like.” His eyes met yours, playful but sincere, that maknae charm in full force.

Social media was already catching on. Clips from rehearsal sneak peeks showed Ni-ki’s rare giddy laughs and the way he lit up around you. Fans posted: “Ni-ki smiling like that with Y/N is everything 😭 So cute!!” “Japanese-Korean duo stealing the season!”

You waved goodbye, heart fluttering. This partnership was becoming way more than just dance—it was turning into something genuinely fun, sweet, and full of butterflies.

The week leading up to the first live performance flew by in a colorful blur of costumes, camera tests, and last-minute tweaks. As the Korean actress who had charmed audiences with your warm on-screen presence, you were no stranger to performing under pressure, but Dancing with the Stars felt like stepping onto a stage where every misstep could be replayed in slow motion forever. Your cha-cha routine had improved dramatically thanks to Ni-ki’s patient guidance, but the nerves were real. What if you froze under the lights? What if your on-and-off dance experience wasn’t enough?

The dress rehearsal day was intense. The studio buzzed with stylists, producers, and the other couples rushing around. You stood in your sparkling cha-cha costume, a flirty, flowy red dress with shimmering accents that made you feel like the heroine in one of your romantic comedies. Ni-ki appeared in his matching sleek black outfit, looking every bit the professional idol. But when his eyes landed on you, that cool composure cracked just a little. His intrigued gaze softened into something warmer, almost giddy.

“Wow… Kawaii,” he said under his breath at first, then louder in Korean, “You look really beautiful. Like a drama scene come to life.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a shy smile breaking through as he offered you a small bento box he’d prepared. “Eat a little. For energy. I added extra strawberries because I noticed you like sweet things.”

Your heart did a little flip. “Ni-ki, you’re too thoughtful! Arigatou gozaimasu,” you replied, using the full polite phrase he’d taught you, bowing playfully. The two of you shared the snack in a quiet corner, away from the chaos. He taught you another Japanese word while you ate: “Hajimemashite — nice to meet you properly. Even though we already met… it feels new every day with you.”

You repeated it cutely, making him laugh that bright, infectious laugh again. The staff nearby exchanged glances — Ni-ki, usually so focused and intense during preparations, seemed lighter, happier, almost playful around you. He kept finding little ways to make you smile: demonstrating a silly exaggerated hip move to loosen you up, then pulling you into a gentle practice turn that ended with him dipping you dramatically. “See? Trust me. I’ve got you,” he whispered, his hand steady on your waist.

But as showtime approached, your nerves hit harder. Backstage, just minutes before your turn, you paced in a small circle, whispering lines from your favorite drama to calm yourself. “What if I mess up the timing? Or forget the lift? Everyone’s watching…”

Ni-ki stepped in front of you, gently holding your shoulders. His dark eyes were serious but kind, that intrigued spark now mixed with real care. “Hey. Remember what we practiced. Dance is story, right? You’re the sweet actress who charms the mysterious dancer. I’m just following your lead in the story.” He switched to Japanese for a moment, then translated: “Daijoubu desu. It’s okay. We’re a team. Japanese-Korean power couple—wait, duo!” He grinned, trying to lighten the mood, and it worked. You laughed, the tension easing.

He taught you one more quick word right there: “Ganbatte — do your best. We ganbatte together.” You repeated it, and he gave you a high-five that turned into a brief, encouraging hand squeeze. The language practice had become your special ritual — something that bridged any tiny gaps and made the bond feel even more personal.

When the announcer called your names, the audience roared. The lights dimmed, the upbeat pop track started, and you stepped onto the floor with Ni-ki right beside you. The first few steps were pure adrenaline. Your heart pounded, but his steady lead grounded you. He guided you through the cha-cha with perfect timing — playful chasses, flirty turns, and that one confident lift where he spun you effortlessly before catching you close. Your acting instincts kicked in beautifully; you sold every smile, every teasing glance, turning the routine into a charming little love story.

Halfway through, you nailed a tricky syncopated section you’d struggled with all week. Ni-ki’s eyes lit up with pure delight, and for a second, his professional mask slipped — he flashed you the biggest, giddiest smile mid-performance, the kind that made fans in the audience scream. You blushed under the lights but kept going, the chemistry between you undeniable. The way he looked at you wasn’t just partner focus anymore; it was intrigued admiration, soft and real.

The music ended with a final spin and a sweet pose — his arm around your waist, your hand on his chest. The crowd exploded. Standing ovations, cheers, and whistles filled the studio. You and Ni-ki bowed together, both breathing hard and laughing in relief. Backstage, he didn’t hold back. The moment the cameras were off you for a second, he pulled you into a quick, excited hug — rare for the usually composed Ni-ki.

“You were sugoi! Amazing! So good!” he exclaimed, his voice giddy and bright. He bounced on his toes a little, ruffling your hair before catching himself. “See? All those late nights paid off. Your rhythm improved so much. I’m proud.”

The judges raved: high scores for technique and connection, with special praise for your “natural sparkle and obvious bond.” One judge even noted, “There’s real chemistry here — it feels genuine!”

Later that night, as you reviewed clips on your phone in the green room, social media was already exploding. Clips of Ni-ki’s bright, giddy smiles directed only at you were going viral. Fans posted edits:

“Ni-ki looking at Y/N like she hung the stars 😭 The Japanese lessons and giggles?? They’re bonding so cute!!”

“Our maknae is WHIPPED for the Korean actress!! Protect this duo at all costs.”

Hashtags like #NiKi/YN and #DancingWithNiKi trended.

Ni-ki sat beside you, scrolling through some of the comments with you, his shoulder brushing yours. “They notice everything,” he said with a soft laugh, a hint of pink on his cheeks. “But they’re right about one thing. Dancing with you is different. Fun. I’m… intrigued more every day.” He taught you another word quietly: “Tokubetsu — special. This partnership feels tokubetsu.”

You felt the plot of your story deepening. What started as a competition pairing was turning into late-night snacks, language exchanges, emotional support, and undeniable sparks. The season was just getting started, and with Ni-ki by your side — patient teacher, intrigued partner, and now someone who made your heart race — you couldn’t wait to see what came next.

The small challenges only brought you closer: a minor costume malfunction during dress rehearsal that you both laughed off, a moment where you helped him with a Korean pronunciation in an interview, and the growing fan attention that added exciting pressure.

The entire season had been a whirlwind of emotions, growth, and undeniable magic. From that very first nervous handshake to the giddy late-night rehearsals filled with Japanese lessons and strawberry milk, your partnership with Ni-ki had blossomed into something far beyond competition.

As the sweet Korean actress who brought warmth and storytelling to every routine, you had improved leaps and bounds—your on-and-off dance experience transforming into confident, expressive performances thanks to his patient teaching.

Ni-ki, the Japanese-born ENHYPEN maknae who had mastered Korean after debut, found himself more intrigued by you with every passing week. The fans had noticed it all: his rare giddy smiles, the way he lit up when you entered the room, the protective arm around your shoulders during group numbers, and those viral clips of him teaching you silly phrases like “boku no kawaii” (my cute one) while blushing.

Week after week, you two powered through. Samba nights where he turned your hip wiggles into flirty acting scenes, foxtrot elegance that felt like a drama romance, and that emotional contemporary piece in the quarterfinals where he choreographed soft lifts around your strengths, whispering “Daijoubu… I’m here” every time nerves hit. The internet dubbed you the “Japanese-Korean Dream Duo,” with edits of his intrigued glances and your sweet laughter flooding timelines. There were tiny plot twists along the way—a minor injury scare for you that he helped nurse with ice packs and quiet encouragement, a language mix-up during a live interview that ended in adorable giggles, and fan theories that only brought you closer as you laughed about them together in the studio.

Now, the Grand Finale had arrived. The studio was packed, lights brighter than ever, the audience buzzing with anticipation. You and Ni-ki had made it to the top two couples after a season of standout performances. For the finale, you prepared two dances: a high-energy freestyle that mixed your Latin roots with K-pop flair, and a beautiful, heartfelt Viennese waltz that told your real story—the nervous actress meeting the intrigued idol, growing together.

Backstage before the final round, the nerves were at their peak. You stood in a stunning, flowing white-and-gold gown that sparkled like starlight, while Ni-ki looked dashing in a tailored black tuxedo with subtle Japanese-inspired details. He noticed your trembling hands and pulled you aside into a quiet corner.

“Y/N,” he said softly in Korean, his voice warm and steady. “We’ve come so far. From you saying you needed lots of help to this… you shine now. Like the brightest actress on any stage.” His dark eyes held that deep intrigue that had never faded—only grown into something softer, more affectionate. He reached into his pocket and handed you a small wrapped gift. “Open it later. But first… Ganbatte kudasai. Let’s win this together.”

You unwrapped it quickly: a delicate silver bracelet with tiny charms—a star for your acting dreams and a little onigiri for your late-night snacks. Tears pricked your eyes. “Ni-ki… it’s perfect. Arigatou gozaimasu. Really.” You hugged him tightly, and he hugged back, his chin resting on your head for a moment, that giddy energy bubbling under his calm exterior.

The performances were magical. Your freestyle was explosive—full of flips, lifts, and joyful chemistry that had the audience on their feet. Ni-ki led with power and grace, but his eyes never left yours, that bright, boyish smile breaking through during the final spin. The waltz was pure emotion: slow, sweeping turns where he whispered Japanese words mid-dance—“Suki desu… I like you”—just loud enough for you to hear, making your heart soar as you glided across the floor like a scene from the most romantic drama.

When the scores came in, the studio fell silent for a heartbeat… then erupted. Perfect scores across the board. You and Ni-ki had won the Mirrorball Trophy—the grand prize!

The confetti cannons exploded in a shower of gold and silver as the host announced, “This season’s champions… Actress Y/N and Ni-ki!” You jumped into his arms, both of you laughing and crying happy tears. He spun you around once, right there on the stage, his giddy laughter louder than the cheers. The fans were screaming, phones up, capturing the moment the whole world had been rooting for.

In the quiet aftermath, after the cameras stopped rolling and the celebrations quieted, you two slipped away to the empty rehearsal studio where it all began. The lights were low, just like those late nights. Ni-ki took your hands, the bracelet he gave you catching the light.

“Y/N… this season changed everything,” he started, switching between Korean and the Japanese he loved sharing with you. “At first, I was intrigued by the sweet actress who admitted she wasn’t perfect. But every day, your kindness, your hard work, your smile… it made me suki desu. More than like. I fell for you. Daisuki.” He looked nervous but determined, ears pink, that cool idol mask completely gone. “Will you be my girlfriend? Not just dance partner… real one.”

Tears of joy slipped down your cheeks. You nodded, smiling that bright, sweet smile he adored. “Yes, Ni-ki. I’ve felt it too—from the first Japanese lessons to every giddy moment. You helped me believe in myself as a dancer, and you stole my heart as the kindest, most talented person. Suki desu right back.”

He pulled you close, forehead resting against yours, and shared the softest, sweetest kiss—full of all the unspoken feelings from the season. The language barrier that once existed was now just a beautiful thread connecting your worlds.

In the months that followed, your story continued beautifully. You supported each other through busy schedules—him with ENHYPEN tours, you with new acting projects—stealing moments for secret dates, more Japanese lessons (now including love phrases), and even a few guest appearances together. The fans celebrated your relationship when it became official, calling it the sweetest Dancing with the Stars love story ever.

And every time you looked at that Mirrorball Trophy sitting proudly in your home, or felt the bracelet on your wrist, you remembered: sometimes the best plots aren’t written in scripts… they’re danced into life with the right partner.

@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

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[heesvnqie]

DESIRE: UNLEASH pt.2

pairing: enhypen!ot7 x reader genre: sci-fi au, dark romance, smut, enhanced alpha au, breeding kink, possessive yandere warnings: 18+ only, explicit smut, gangbang, dubcon, breeding kink, creampie, cum inflation, double/triple penetration, heat cycle sex, possessive behavior, marking, overstimulation, power imbalance word count: 11.2k (phew!) author's note: Whew… we finally made it, babies 😭 Thank you SO much for riding this wild wave with me. From the underground lab, to the chaotic Seoul drift chase and finally breaking free — this part was an absolute rollercoaster and I loved every filthy, thrilling second of it. To everyone who wanted more filth, more thrill, more possessiveness, and that sweet mix of soft + nasty — this one’s for you. Part 3 is already brewing in my head (new AETHER era, possible pregnancy). But I’ll only write it and post it if you guys want it. Cus the part 2's ending is beautiful too! ..thank you again for all the support!<3

Two weeks had passed since the first heat cycle consumed the nest room.

The habitat had settled into a strange, fragile rhythm. You still clung to your routines like a security blanket. Crisp white lab coat over soft pastel blouses, hair tied in that signature cute bun with the little white ribbon, tablet always in hand, and your brightest smile ready for every interaction. The boys had grown impossibly more protective, more tactile, more hungry, but they were trying, for you to keep some semblance of the “experiment” intact.

Mornings started with group check-ins in the common area. You’d bounce in with your usual energy, voice light and cheerful despite the constant ache between your legs and the faint bruises hidden under your collar.

“Good morning, my favorite seven~!” you sang out on this particular day, waving your tablet like a flag of professionalism. “Who’s ready for today’s vitals and mood logs? I brought those new calming teas Dr. Voss approved!”

Heeseung was already watching you from the couch, legs spread wide, golden-ringed eyes tracking every bounce of your ribbon. He didn’t speak at first but just let his gaze drag slowly down your body, lingering on the way your blouse hugged your chest. The others weren’t much better. Jake’s bright smile held a darker edge now. Sunghoon’s stare was icy and unblinking. Ni-ki flexed his hands like he was fighting the urge to grab you immediately.

They answered your questions. They let you take notes. But every session ended with them pulling you into their laps “for grounding contact,” hands slipping under fabric, lips brushing your neck, low growls vibrating against your skin when you tried to pull away.

“You’re still pretending, sunshine,” Jungwon murmured during one such moment, his large hand splayed possessively over your lower belly. “We can smell how wet you are just from sitting with us.”

You giggled nervously, cheeks pink, scribbling nonsense on your tablet. “Professional boundaries, remember? We’re still collecting data…”

The truth was the data had become secondary. The facility — Helios Corporation — was watching everything. Dr. Voss’s reports had grown more frequent, more clinical. The boys’ enhancement levels were off the charts. Their instincts were no longer just “heightened.” Something darker was stirring beneath the surface.

And then the email came.

You were in the small monitoring annex attached to the habitat, reviewing logs alone after a particularly handsy group session, when your encrypted tablet pinged with a priority message from the Director.

Project Aether – Urgent Reassignment Directive

Dr. Y/N,

Effective immediately, you are being temporarily reassigned to Subject Zero – a high-ranking criminal asset currently in solitary containment on Level -7. This individual is a former elite operative with extreme psychological instability. Your expertise in behavioral anchoring is required to stabilize him for interrogation. Duration: minimum 4 weeks. Daily sessions. Full security escort provided.

Your current subjects (ENHYPEN prototypes) will be placed under automated monitoring and partial chemical sedation protocols to maintain stability in your absence. This is non-negotiable for project security.

Report to Transfer Room 3 at 08:00 tomorrow.

Your stomach dropped. Four weeks. Away from them. Sedation protocols.

You read the message three times, heart hammering. The boys had barely tolerated Dr. Voss’s minor interventions before. This… this would break them.

That night you tried to tell them gently.

You gathered them in the common area after dinner, still wearing your lab coat and ribbon, sitting cross-legged on the big couch like it was just another casual session. Seven pairs of eyes locked onto you the second you opened your mouth.

“So… I got some news from upstairs today,” you started, keeping your voice bright and steady. “The Director wants me to consult on another case. Just for a few weeks. A high-security subject on a lower level. It’s important work, and I—”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop.

Heeseung’s hand, which had been resting casually on your knee, tightened hard enough to make you wince.

“Another subject,” he repeated, voice low and dangerously calm. “You’re leaving us.”

Jake’s usual sunny expression cracked. “No. Absolutely not.”

Sunghoon stood up slowly, shadows playing across his sharp features. “Who is he? This ‘high-ranking criminal’?”

You swallowed, trying to keep smiling. “I don’t know much yet. Just that he’s unstable and they think my anchoring methods could help. But I’ll still visit when I can, and—”

Ni-ki cut you off with a sharp laugh that didn’t sound playful at all. “Visit? Like we’re fucking pets in a cage you can come pet when convenient?”

Sunoo looked sad. Jay's eyes glared into space, zoning out.

Jungwon, ever the leader, hadn’t moved from his spot beside you. But his hand found yours, gripping it with controlled strength. “You’re our Anchor, Y/N. Not theirs. Not anyone else’s.”

The air grew thick with tension. You could feel it, that primal undercurrent they’d been fighting since the last heat. Their eyes flickered with that golden glow. Muscles tensed. You noticed Jay’s fingers twitching, small sparks of electricity dancing between them, a new, unstable manifestation of their powers that had started appearing in the last few days.

You reached out, placing your free hand on Heeseung’s chest, letting your own modified presence, that soft, soothing omega warmth, flow toward them.

“I know it’s hard,” you said softly, bubbly tone gentling into something more sincere. “But this is still my job. I signed up to help. And if I can stabilize this guy, maybe it helps the whole project. Helps you.”

Sunoo smiled, but it was the terrifyingly sweet one that hid fangs. “You smell scared, Doctor. You know what this will do to us.”

They didn’t stop you from going to bed that night, but none of them slept in their own areas. They crowded into your room, surrounding the bed in a protective pile. Hands never left your body, stroking your hair, rubbing your thighs, pressing possessive kisses to every inch of skin they could reach without fully escalating. They held back… barely.

Heeseung whispered against your neck as you drifted off, voice rough,“One week. If you’re not back by then, we won’t be able to hold this in anymore.”

The next morning, Transfer Room 3 felt colder than usual. You stood in your full “professional” outfit. Lab coat crisp, ribbon neatly tied, a small duffel with clothes and tablet ready. Security guards flanked you, eyes nervous.

The boys were allowed a supervised goodbye.

They looked… wrong. Taller. Broader. The enhancements seemed to be accelerating under stress. Heeseung’s jaw was clenched so tight you worried it might crack. Jungwon’s usual calm had fractured into quiet intensity. Ni-ki paced like a caged tiger.

You hugged each of them tightly, whispering encouragement.

“I’ll be back soon. Be good for the monitoring team, okay? I’ll call in every day.”

Jake hugged you the longest, burying his face in your hair. “Don’t let him touch you. Not even professionally. You’re ours.”

When the heavy doors finally closed between you, the last thing you saw was seven pairs of glowing eyes staring after you like predators watching their mate walk into danger.

The new subject was… chilling.

He was a high-ranking criminal. Code name: “Reaper.” Tall, scarred, with dead eyes that seemed to calculate your every micro-expression. Sessions started clinical. You kept your bubbly demeanor, asking gentle questions, using the same techniques that had worked on the boys.

But every night, back in your temporary quarters, you received the habitat reports for the boys.

Day 1: Minor aggression spikes. Sedation increased 15%.

Day 3: Heeseung destroyed a reinforced table during a “mood evaluation.” Powers manifesting unpredictably.

Day 5: Group refused all food unless it came from your hands. Monitoring cameras showed them pacing in circles, growling your name in their sleep.

You tried to advocate. You sent messages to Dr. Voss begging for adjustments. The replies were curt: Stability protocols must be maintained. Focus on Reaper.

On Day 6, during a particularly intense session with the criminal, who had started smiling at you in a way that made your skin crawl, the habitat alarm triggered.

It was a containment breach at Level 4 Habitat. At Enhypen's habitat?

You were rushed back under heavy escort, heart in your throat.

When the doors to the common area opened, the sight stole your breath.

The once-luxurious space was in ruins. Couches torn apart. Walls cracked. Sparks raining from destroyed fixtures. And in the center stood all seven of them — breathing heavily, eyes blazing pure gold, bodies radiating unstable power.

They looked feral. Beautifully terrifying.

Heeseung stepped forward first, voice distorted with barely-contained rage.

“You’re back,” he said, but it sounded more like a snarl. His hand reached for you, trembling with the effort not to grab too hard. “But it’s too late, sunshine. We tried… we really tried to stay in control.”

Behind him, Jake’s fists were clenched, small electric arcs dancing over his knuckles. Sunghoon’s breath came out in visible cold mist. Ni-ki’s movements were too fast, blurring at the edges.

They were losing the battle against whatever psychopathic darkness the enhancements had unlocked. The anger , the possessive, protective fury was taking over their minds like a virus.

You stepped closer despite the guards’ warnings, your ribbon slightly crooked from the rushed journey, voice still trying to be bright even as tears pricked your eyes.

“I’m here now. We can fix this. Breathe with me, okay? Just like we practiced—”

Jungwon’s calm voice cut through, but it was edged with something unhinged. “No more breathing exercises, Doctor. No more protocols.”

He looked straight at the security team behind you.

“Leave. Or we won’t be able to stop ourselves from tearing you apart to get to her.”

The ruined common area smelled of ozone, sweat, and something darker, raw, primal anger barely held in check.

You stood frozen just inside the shattered doorway, your white lab coat slightly torn at the sleeve from the rushed escort, the little white ribbon in your hair hanging crooked. Your heart hammered so loudly you were sure they could all hear it with their enhanced senses. The security team behind you had already taken several steps back, hands hovering near their tasers and sedatives.

Heeseung was closest, towering over you, chest heaving. The golden rings in his eyes were brighter than you’d ever seen, almost swallowing the dark pupils. His hand reached out slowly, as if he was fighting every instinct not to crush you against him.

“Sunshine…” His voice was rough, cracked. “You came back.”

You forced your brightest, softest smile, the one that had worked so many times before. “Of course I did. I told you I would. Now everyone just… breathe with me, okay? Like we practiced in sessions. In… and out…”

Behind him, the others shifted. Jake’s usual warm grin was gone, replaced by a strained expression, fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. Small blue sparks danced across his forearms, unstable electricity he couldn’t quite control. Sunghoon stood unnaturally still, frost creeping across the floor beneath his feet. Ni-ki blurred for a split second, appearing two meters closer than before, fangs fully extended.

Jungwon’s calm voice cut through the tension, but it carried an edge that made your stomach twist. “The doctors sent you to another male. A criminal. While they pumped us full of sedatives and told us to wait.”

You stepped forward carefully, ignoring the guards’ warnings, and placed your palm on Heeseung’s chest. Your own modified energy, that soft, soothing warmth, flowed into him. For a moment, the glow in his eyes dimmed slightly.

“I know it was hard,” you said gently, voice still carrying that bubbly lilt even as fear and guilt mixed inside you. “But I’m here now. Let’s sit down and talk about it. I can adjust the protocols. We can—”

A low, collective growl rumbled through all seven of them.

Sunoo smiled, sweet and terrifying. “Talk? Doctor, we’ve been talking for days while you were gone. It didn’t help.”

Jay’s hand sparked with electricity as he ripped a piece of fallen debris out of the way, clearing a path toward the big sectional couch, now torn and tilted at an odd angle. “Sit with us. Now.”

They didn’t give you much choice.

Heeseung scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his massive chest as if you were made of glass and dynamite at the same time. The others closed in, surrounding you completely as he carried you to the couch. You ended up in the center again. your favorite (and most dangerous) position with Heeseung on one side, Jungwon on the other, and the rest forming a tight circle around you.

Hands immediately found your body. Not rough yet… but possessive. Heeseung’s palm settled heavily on your thigh, thumb stroking the fabric of your pants higher and higher. Jake nuzzled into your neck from behind, inhaling deeply. “You smell like him. That other male. It’s making me want to rip something apart.”

You shivered but kept smiling, gently running your fingers through Jake’s hair. “It was just sessions. Clinical. Nothing happened. I promise.”

Ni-ki knelt in front of you, hands gripping your knees and slowly spreading them. “We believe you, Doctor. But the anger… it’s louder now. Harder to push down.” His voice dropped. “We tried to be good. For you.”

The slow burn of their control was visibly fraying.

You spent the next hour trying to anchor them the old wa, asking about their sleep, their mood swings, suggesting breathing exercises while they touched you more and more boldly. Every time you tried to stand up to grab your tablet (now cracked on the floor), someone pulled you back down onto a lap.

Sunghoon pressed cold lips to your collarbone, leaving a trail of frost that made you gasp. “Stay still. We need you close.”

Jay’s sparks danced lightly over your arms, not painful, but enough to make your skin tingle and your nipples harden under your blouse. “You were gone too long.”

The guards eventually retreated after Jungwon gave them one chilling look. The habitat doors sealed. It was just you and them now.

As evening fell (according to the flickering digital clock on the wall), the touches grew heavier. Heeseung pulled you fully onto his lap, facing him, your legs straddling his thick thighs. His hands slid under your lab coat, pushing it off your shoulders until it pooled at your elbows.

“You’re still wearing the ribbon,” he murmured, voice low and dark. One finger hooked under the white strip of fabric in your hair and tugged gently. “Trying so hard to look professional while we fall apart.”

You bit your lip, cheeks flushing. “Someone has to keep things together…”

Sunoo leaned in from the side, unbuttoning the top buttons of your blouse with delicate fingers. “Let us take care of you tonight, Doctor. You’ve been working so hard.”

They didn’t fuck you immediately. That was what made it worse was the slow, torturous build.

They kept you trapped in the center, passing you from lap to lap. Kissing your neck, sucking marks into your skin, hands roaming under your clothes but never quite going all the way. Every time you moaned or whimpered, they praised you in low, broken voices.

“Good girl… still trying to calm us.”

“Our perfect Anchor.”

But you could feel the darkness creeping in. Their eyes kept flashing. Their new, unstable powers flared unpredictably, sparks, frost, speed bursts, shadows. The anger at your temporary removal was feeding something psychopathic, something the enhancements had planted deep.

At one point, Jungwon had you pressed against his chest, your back to him, while Heeseung knelt between your spread legs, slowly kissing up your inner thigh.

“We tried to stay normal,” Jungwon whispered against your ear, voice strained. “But every minute you were with that criminal… I kept imagining breaking his neck. Taking you back. Keeping you here forever.”

You reached back to cup his cheek, still trying. “You don’t have to fight it alone. I’m right here.”

That was when the first real crack happened.

A distant alarm sounded from the upper levels, probably Dr. Voss realizing the habitat was no longer responding to external controls. The boys stiffened.

Heeseung’s eyes went fully feral. “They’re coming to take you again.”

You felt the shift in the air, the slow burn turning into an inferno.

Ni-ki moved in a blur, smashing the main control panel on the wall. Sparks flew. “No more doctors.”

Jake’s electricity surged, frying the hidden cameras one by one. “No more watching.”

Sunghoon froze the electronic locks on the habitat doors. Jungwon stood up, gently setting you down but keeping one arm around your waist.

Heeseung looked at you, chest heaving, fighting one last time.

“Sunshine… tell us to stop. Tell us you’ll stay and we’ll try—”

You swallowed hard, ribbon now completely loose in your messy hair, blouse half-open, body trembling with a mix of fear and that traitorous heat they always pulled out of you.

“I’m not leaving,” you whispered. “But please… don’t lose yourselves completely.”

It was the last push they needed.

The lab was about to break.

Heeseung kissed you deep, desperate, consuming. The others closed in like a pack finally unleashed after days of starvation.

And the real storm was only beginning.

You only left for an hour.

Just one single hour.

After the intense evening in the ruined common area, you had convinced the boys barely to let you step out for a emergency meeting with Dr. Voss. You promised you’d be right back. You kissed each of them on the cheek, adjusted your crooked ribbon, buttoned your lab coat, and whispered, “Be good for me. Please.”

Heeseung had gripped your wrist at the door, eyes glowing. “One hour, sunshine. Not a minute more.”

You nodded, heart heavy, and stepped through the reinforced doors.

That was the mistake.

The entire facility went into chaos.

Alarms screamed across every level. Red emergency lights flashed in the corridors. Scientists, security teams, and doctors from all departments even those who had never worked on Project Aether, were rushing toward the basement habitat like their lives depended on it.

Because it did.

You were running too, lab coat flapping behind you, ribbon bouncing wildly in your messy bun as a security escort half-dragged you through the panic. Your tablet was clutched tightly in your hands, showing live feed from the observation deck.

The boys had destroyed everything.

The reinforced glass wall — the thick, unbreakable barrier that had once separated the “human” monitoring side from the habitat was now the only thing still standing. On the other side, the luxurious common area was in ruins. Couches shredded. Walls cracked and dented. Sparks raining from destroyed gadgets. The gym equipment was twisted like scrap metal.

And in the middle of the destruction stood all seven of them.

They looked terrifying.

This was their second habitat in complete ruins in the last 24 hours.

Taller. Broader. Muscles bulging with uncontrollable power. Their eyes burned solid gold. Heeseung’s presence alone seemed to make the air vibrate. Jungwon stood like a silent commander, shadows flickering unnaturally around him. Ni-ki moved in short, impossible bursts of speed, leaving afterimages. Jake’s entire arms crackled with visible electricity. Sunghoon’s breath created freezing mist that coated the broken glass in frost. Sunoo’s sweet face was twisted into something darkly angelic as tendrils of shadow moved at his command. Jay’s hands glowed with raw electric current.

They were no longer just enhanced.

They were something monstrously beautiful. Superpowered Alphas on the edge of total psychopathic breakdown.

Dr. Voss and a dozen senior staff were crowded at the observation deck, faces pale as they stared through the thick glass.

“They’ve awakened full abilities,” one scientist whispered in horror. “This wasn’t supposed to happen for months…”

“They’re going to break the final wall,” another added.

You pushed through the crowd, breathless. “Let me in.”

Dr. Voss turned sharply. “Dr. Y/N, are you crazy? It’s too dangerous. They’re feral. Look at them—”

On the other side of the glass, Heeseung slammed his fist against the barrier. The entire wall shook. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from the point of impact. The boys’ heads snapped toward the sound of your voice instantly.

“Sunshine!” Heeseung said, voice distorted with power. “You’re late.”

The others pressed closer to the glass, eyes locked on you with terrifying hunger and rage. Their possessiveness had fully merged with something darker, the anger of being abandoned again, even for sixty minutes.

You stepped right up to the glass, placing your palm against it. Your voice stayed bright, even as tears stung your eyes. “I’m here now. Just like I promised. Please… let me come to you.”

Dr. Voss grabbed your arm. “We cannot open the hatch. They’ll—”

You turned to him with uncharacteristic firmness, your usual tone edged with steel. “Open it. Now. Or they will break through and this entire facility is gone. You know I’m the only one who can calm them.”

The monitoring team hesitated. The boys on the other side were growing louder, more agitated. Ni-ki blurred and punched the glass, leaving a deep dent. Frost from Sunghoon spread rapidly. Electricity from Jake and Jay danced across the surface.

Finally, Voss cursed under his breath and nodded to the control tech.

“Open the hatch. Dr. Y/N goes in only. Seal it immediately after.”

The heavy reinforced door beside the glass wall hissed open. You didn’t hesitate. You stepped through without looking back.

The moment the door sealed behind you and you were fully on their side, it happened.

A surge of energy, raw, overwhelming, and pink-tinged exploded inside your chest. The residual modifications from your time as their Anchor, combined with the chaotic power radiating off the seven boys, ignited something new in you.

Your eyes flashed soft pink. A visible aura shimmered around your body. You felt it instantly, the ability to project powerful soothing waves, to amplify or dampen their powers, and a sudden burst of enhanced endurance and strength.

Your new superpower had awakened the second you chose to stand with them.

The boys froze for half a second, sensing the change.

Then they were on you.

Heeseung reached you first, slamming you against his chest so hard it would have hurt before your power awakened. His arms locked around you like iron bands.

“You left us again,” he growled against your hair, voice broken. “Even for an hour.”

The others surrounded you instantly. Hands tore at your lab coat, ripping it open. Jake buried his face in your neck, electricity dancing lightly over your skin and making you gasp. Sunghoon pressed against your back, his cold hands sliding under your blouse. Ni-ki dropped to his knees, gripping your thighs with blurring speed.

You whimpered, but your new power instinctively flowed outward — soft pink waves that wrapped around all seven of them, calming the worst of the feral rage while leaving their hunger intact.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, voice still carrying that sweet tone even as they started devouring you. “I’m right here now. I’m not leaving.”

Jungwon cupped your face, golden eyes burning into yours. “No more doctors. You stay with us.”

They didn’t wait.

Right there in the destroyed common area, with the entire facility’s doctors and security watching in horrified silence from behind the cracked glass wall, ENHYPEN claimed their Anchor.

Heeseung kissed you first — deep, punishing, and desperate. While his tongue claimed your mouth, Jay and Jake worked together to strip you. Your blouse was torn open. Your pants were yanked down. The little white ribbon was pulled from your hair only for Ni-ki to use it to tie your wrists gently behind your back.

“Pretty,” Sunoo whispered, licking a stripe up your throat. “Our superpowered Doctor now.”

They took you hard and fast on the ruined couch.

Heeseung lifted you onto his cock first, slamming you down in one brutal thrust while the others held your legs spread wide. You screamed in pleasure, your new power making every sensation sharper, letting you take them easier even as they stretched you open.

“Fuck— so tight,” Heeseung groaned, bouncing you roughly. “Even after everything, you still feel like heaven.”

Jake pushed in beside him moments later, double-penetrating your pussy while electricity sparked pleasure through your nerves. Sunghoon froze your nipples with cold touches before sucking them hard. Ni-ki used your mouth, fucking your throat with speed-enhanced thrusts.

The doctors behind the glass were shouting, but no one dared open the door.

You came violently, your pink aura flaring and amplifying their powers — making their thrusts stronger, their cocks feel bigger, the pleasure overwhelming. Your belly swelled quickly with load after load as they rotated, breeding you relentlessly in full view of the observation team.

Heeseung came deep inside you with a roar, pressing his hand on the growing bulge in your stomach. “This is where you belong. Full of us. Always.”

They kept going for hours, passing you around, using every hole, marking your skin with bites and bruises and traces of their powers. Your new abilities let you keep up, soothing them between rounds so they didn’t completely lose their minds.

By the time the frenzy slowed, you were a wrecked, cum-filled, glowing mess in the center of them. Your ribbon was tied around your thigh like a claiming mark. Your body shimmered with soft pink light.

From behind the cracked glass, Dr. Voss stared in stunned silence.

The boys looked up at the watching scientists with glowing, victorious eyes.

Heeseung spoke loud enough for the mics to catch, still buried deep inside you.

“She’s ours now. Completely. Come and try to take her… if you dare.”

You looked up at the glass too, flushed and exhausted but still managing a tiny, shaky, bubbly smile.

The facility had just witnessed the birth of something unstoppable.

The ruined common area was silent except for heavy breathing and the faint crackling of dying electricity.

You lay in the center of them — a complete, beautiful wreck. Cum leaked down your thighs, marks covered your neck and breasts, your hair was wild, and your new pink aura still shimmered softly around your naked, trembling body. The seven boys surrounded you protectively, hands still possessively stroking your skin, cocks still half-hard and glistening. Their glowing golden eyes were filled with satisfaction… and lingering hunger.

Behind the cracked glass wall, dozens of doctors, scientists, and security personnel stared in stunned horror and fascination. The entire facility’s monitoring system had been broadcasting live to upper levels. Word had spread fast. Hundreds, soon thousands, were now watching.

You took a slow, shaky breath.

Then your new superpower surged.

A bright, blinding pink radiance exploded from your core. It was warm, soothing, and overwhelmingly powerful. Your body slowly lifted off the torn couch, floating upward as if gravity no longer applied. Soft pink light burst outward in waves, temporarily blinding everyone in the habitat and behind the glass.

The boys reached for you instantly.

“Sunshine—!” Heeseung lunged, eyes wide with panic and need.

“Y/N!” Jake and Jungwon called out, hands outstretched.

Ni-ki blurred forward at full speed. Sunghoon’s frost and Jay’s electricity flared as they tried to grab you.

You simply lifted one delicate hand.

A gentle but unbreakable wave of pink energy washed over all seven of them, freezing them in place mid-motion. They couldn’t move closer. Their powerful bodies strained against the soft restraint, muscles bulging, growls vibrating in their chests.

“Not yet,” you said softly, voice still carrying that sweet, bubbly tone even while floating several feet in the air, completely naked and glowing.

The pink radiance intensified for a few more seconds… and then something miraculous happened.

The light wrapped around your body like silk. Every drop of cum, every bruise, every trace of their claiming vanished as if it had never been. Your skin glowed flawless and clean. Your hair neatly arranged itself back into that signature cute bun. The little white ribbon reappeared perfectly tied in place. A fresh white lab coat materialized over a soft lavender blouse and neat black pants — exactly as clean and professional as when you had first stepped into the habitat that morning.

You gently floated back down until your feet touched the floor.

The boys were still frozen in place, staring at you with a mix of awe, lust, and confusion.

You smiled brightly — that same bubbly, warm smile that had started everything.

“That was fun~” you said cheerfully, tilting your head with playful innocence, as if you hadn’t just been gang-fucked for hours in front of half the facility.

A stunned silence fell.

Behind the glass wall, every scientist and doctor was frozen in awe. Some had their mouths open. Others were frantically taking notes. The pink radiance had been visible even on the monitors across the entire Helios Corporation network.

Dr. Elias Voss stepped forward to the cracked glass, his face pale but his eyes shining with something close to triumph.

“My God…” he whispered, then spoke louder into the intercom, voice echoing through the habitat. “Dr. Y/N… that power. It’s perfect synchronization. The Anchor has fully awakened.”

He turned to the rest of the monitoring team, voice rising with excitement.

“Gentlemen, this is what we’ve been waiting for. The Alphas are stable only with her. Their powers are fully online. And now… the Anchor herself has transcended. It’s time.”

Voss looked straight at the seven boys, who were still straining against your gentle pink hold.

“Project Aether is no longer contained. Effective immediately, we are moving to Phase Omega: Public Showcase. ENHYPEN will be released into the outside world under controlled conditions. National heroes. Global ambassadors. With Dr. Y/N as their official handler and Anchor.”

The boys’ eyes flashed dangerously.

Heeseung growled, still frozen. “She doesn’t handle us. She belongs to us.”

You giggled softly and lowered your hand. The pink wave released them.

They surged forward instantly, surrounding you again — but gentler this time, almost reverent. Heeseung pulled you against his chest, burying his face in your hair. The others pressed close, hands roaming over your now-pristine lab coat as if checking that you were really there.

“You’re not taking her anywhere without us,” Jungwon said calmly, but his tone left no room for argument.

Dr. Voss smiled thinly behind the glass. “Of course not. You seven are a package deal now. The world will meet ENHYPEN… and their beloved Doctor.”

Within forty-eight hours, the decision was made at the highest levels.

The underground facility’s secrecy was partially lifted. Leaked (carefully edited) footage of the boys’ power display and your radiant ascension had already gone viral.

The world was demanding to see them.

You stood on the surface level observation deck the next morning, dressed in your signature cute professional style — white lab coat, lavender blouse, ribbon in your hair, bright smile on your face. The seven boys surrounded you in sleek black tactical uniforms that barely contained their enhanced bodies.

Heeseung kept one arm firmly around your waist. Ni-ki played with the end of your ribbon. Sunghoon’s cold fingers brushed the back of your neck.

“Are you ready for this, sunshine?” Jake asked, voice low. “Once we’re out there… everyone will know you’re ours.”

You leaned into Heeseung’s side, still glowing faintly with that soft pink aura.

“I’m ready if you are,” you said cheerfully. “Just… try not to destroy any more buildings on the first day, okay?”

They chuckled darkly, but their eyes were already scanning the exit doors with predatory focus.

Dr. Voss approached one final time.

“Remember the world thinks you’re national heroes. Protect Dr. Y/N at all costs. She is the key to keeping you stable.” He paused, then added quietly, “And the key to everything we’ve built.”

The massive surface gates began to open.

Bright daylight streamed in for the first time in months.

You took a deep breath, ribbon fluttering slightly, and squeezed Heeseung’s hand.

The era of ENHYPEN was beginning.

The surface gates opened to a blinding wall of light and noise.

After months underground, the outside world hit like a supernova. Seoul’s skyline stretched endlessly under a clear blue sky. Crowds of reporters, government officials, fans, and curious citizens were already gathered behind heavy barricades and military lines. Helicopters circled overhead. Cameras flashed like endless fireworks.

You stood in the center of it all, flanked by seven towering, superpowered men.

Your white lab coat fluttered gently in the breeze, the little white ribbon in your neat bun bouncing with every step. You kept your brightest, most professional smile plastered on your face, even though your heart was racing and your new pink aura shimmered faintly around you.

Heeseung’s large hand stayed firmly on your lower back, thumb stroking possessively. Jungwon walked on your other side like a silent guard. The rest of the boys formed a tight protective formation around you — Jake and Sunoo slightly in front, Ni-ki and Sunghoon behind, Jay between them scanning the crowd with sparking fingertips hidden in his pockets.

The seven of them looked like they had stepped straight out of a luxury fashion campaign. Tailored black suits hugged their enhanced, powerful frames perfectly, broad shoulders, narrow waists, and long legs making every movement lethal and elegant.

Heeseung’s suit was slightly more commanding, with a deep V-neck shirt underneath that showed off the sharp lines of his collarbones. Jungwon wore his with authority, sleeves rolled up to expose veined forearms. Jake and Sunoo had softer, model-like charm with slightly unbuttoned collars and effortless charisma. Jay’s suit shimmered with subtle electric threading that matched his powers. Sunghoon looked icy and untouchable in all black, while Ni-ki’s slightly loosened tie and sharp jawline gave him a dangerous, rebellious idol edge. They looked devastatingly handsome.

Dr. Voss spoke first at the podium, voice amplified across the plaza.

“Today, Helios Corporation and the Republic of Korea proudly present ENHYPEN — the future of human evolution. Seven elite Alphas with extraordinary abilities, dedicated to protecting our nation… and guided by their official Anchor, Dr. Y/N.

The crowd erupted.

You waved shyly, cheeks pink. “Hello everyone~! We’re really happy to be here. Please be patient with us as we adjust to… everything.”

The boys didn’t wave. They stared.

Heeseung’s golden eyes swept the crowd like a predator evaluating threats. Ni-ki’s fangs flashed when someone shouted too loudly. Sunghoon’s breath created faint cold mist in the warm air.

The press conference began.

Questions flew fast.

“ENHYPEN! What are your powers exactly?”

“How does Dr. Y/N control you?”

“Are the rumors true — that she’s more than just your psychologist?”

Heeseung answered first, voice deep and carrying easily without a microphone. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you against his side in front of dozens of cameras.

“She doesn’t control us,” he said, a dangerous smile curving his lips. “She anchors us. She’s ours.”

The crowd went wild. Flashes intensified.

You laughed nervously, gently patting Heeseung’s chest. “Heeseung means we have a very close professional bond! I help keep them stable.”

Jake leaned in from your other side, nuzzling close to your ear on live television. “Very close,” he murmured, loud enough for the mics to catch.

The internet exploded in real time.

The government had prepared a luxurious penthouse tower in central Seoul for “controlled integration.” The top three floors belonged entirely to ENHYPEN and you.

The moment the heavy doors closed behind you and the last security team left, the boys’ control snapped.

Heeseung had you pinned against the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the glittering city before you could even set your tablet down.

“Finally,” he growled, ripping your lab coat open. “All those people watching you… smelling you… thinking they could ever have you.”

Your back pressed against the cool glass, city lights sparkling behind you as he shoved your blouse up and latched onto your breast. You moaned, fingers threading through his hair, your pink aura flaring softly.

“Everyone’s watching us now,” you gasped, still trying to sound bubbly even as Jake dropped to his knees and yanked your pants down. “We have to be careful—”

“Fuck careful,” Ni-ki snarled, appearing in a blur beside you. He used your ribbon like a leash again, tugging your head back for a filthy kiss while Jake buried his face between your thighs, tongue driving deep.

They took you right there against the window.

Heeseung fucked you first, lifting you easily and slamming into your soaked pussy while the city sprawled beneath you. Every powerful thrust made your breasts bounce and your breath fog the glass.

“Look at them, sunshine,” he panted against your neck. “All those tiny people down there have no idea I’m breeding their precious new hero right now.”

Jake took you next, bending you over the back of a designer couch while Jay pushed into your mouth. Sunghoon froze your nipples with icy touches before warming them with his tongue. Sunoo and Jungwon stroked themselves as they watched, occasionally feeding you their fingers or cocks.

Your pink power surged every time you came, waves of soothing radiance that only made them stronger, harder, more insatiable. At one point you floated slightly off the ground again, glowing, as all seven of them worshipped and ruined you at once.

Ni-ki fucked you mid-air, holding you suspended while Jungwon thrust into you from behind, double-stuffing your pussy. The others marked every inch of skin they could reach.

By the time they were temporarily sated, you were glowing, covered in fresh marks, and leaking their cum down your thighs again. Your ribbon was crooked, lab coat somewhere on the floor, but your smile was still bright and dazed.

“That… was a lot,” you whispered with a soft giggle, floating gently back down into Heeseung’s arms.

The world fell in love with ENHYPEN.

Just days after their dramatic debut to the public, a major contract was signed with HYBE Labels. The entertainment giant saw the global hype and immediately moved to debut them as a K-pop group with a dark, seductive vampire concept — mysterious, elegant, dangerously alluring blood princes with real superhuman (vampiric) abilities. The boys were given state-of-the-art training facilities, stylists, producers, and a full creative team. Their concept photos, with sharp fangs, glowing eyes, and elegant dark fashion, broke the internet overnight.

Within weeks they were recording their debut mini-album titled something like Border: Day one, filming music videos where they used their powers on camera in vampire-themed choreography, and preparing for their first comeback stage. The public went absolutely feral for them. “ENHYPEN” trended worldwide every single day, with fans obsessing over their predatory visuals and raw charisma.

You were right there with them through it all — attending meetings, calming their bloodlust and possessive instincts when the pressure got too high, and secretly getting railed in dressing rooms, practice rooms, and even the HYBE building’s private elevators.

But the possessiveness never stopped.

In green rooms before live broadcasts, they would pull you into quick, filthy quickies. Heeseung fucking you against the makeup counter while stylists waited outside. Ni-ki using his speed to rail you in under a minute. Once, during a photoshoot, Sunghoon froze the lock on the dressing room door and all seven of them took turns while cameras waited outside.

Your pink power became famous too. Fans called it “The Glow.” Whenever you calmed one of the boys during a public event, the soft pink light would appear, and the internet would lose its mind.

Yet threats were already rising.

Anonymous messages. Corporate rivals trying to develop suppression tech. A shadowy group calling themselves “The Purifiers” who believed enhanced Alphas (vampires) were abominations.

One night, after a massive stadium concert where ENHYPEN had performed with you offstage (you waving cheerfully while they showed off their vampire powers), the boys gathered around you in the private VIP lounge.

Heeseung pulled you onto his lap, still sweaty from the performance.

“They’re watching us, sunshine,” he murmured, hand possessively rubbing your slightly swollen belly, fangs grazing your neck. “The world loves us now… but they’ll try to take you again.”

You leaned back against his chest, fingers playing with your ribbon as your pink aura wrapped around all of them soothingly.

“Then we’ll show them why they can’t,” you said softly, that bubbly determination shining through. “Together.”

The outside world had welcomed ENHYPEN with open arms.

But it had no idea what kind of storm it had invited in.

The months flew by in a haze of lights, cameras, and hidden bites.

While the boys dominated the music charts with their vampire concept, you quietly started something of your own. What began as a way to relieve stress, filming short dance covers in the practice rooms or in the penthouse quickly blew up. You created an Instagram account (@anchor.dance) and it exploded.

Your style was addictive: cute feminine outfits, mini skirts, cropped tops, thigh-high socks, and always that signature white ribbon in your hair.

Your dances were smooth, sensual, and full of bubbly personality.

Within weeks, you had millions of followers. Clips of you dancing went viral. Netizens called you “ENHYPEN’s glowing fairy” and “the Anchor we all want.” You became a star in your own right.

The arena was packed for the new album showcase. Red and black lights bathed the stage as ENHYPEN performed their title track,"Bite Me." The vampire concept was in full force, sharp fangs, glowing eyes, and predatory grace.

You watched from the VIP side-stage wearing a tight black corset top with delicate pink ribbons, a short pleated skirt, and knee-high boots. Your hair was in loose waves with the white ribbon tied as a half-up bow. You looked like pure temptation.

After the main set, the MCs announced,“And now, for a special collaboration — please welcome Y/N performing ‘Woman’ by Doja Cat with Jake!”

The crowd screamed as Jake took your hand and pulled you onto the center stage.

The beat dropped.

You danced with confidence and sensuality. Jake moved behind you, hands ghosting over your waist, fangs grazing your neck teasingly for the cameras. The chemistry was insane. Every body roll, every playful glance had the arena going wild.

During the bridge, Jake dipped you low and whispered, “You’re driving me insane right now… you smell so fucking good under these lights.”

You giggled breathlessly into the mic, playing it off, but your pink aura flickered visibly around both of you.

The performance ended with Jake pulling you close as the final note hit. The arena erupted.

After the performance, you were invited to stay on stage for the variety game segment.

The game was “Truth or Dare – Idol Edition.”

The boys were dangerously playful.

When it was Jake’s turn, he smirked at you.

“Truth or Dare, you?”

You tilted your head. “Dare~”

Jake’s eyes darkened. “I dare you to sit on my lap for the rest of this round… and let me feed you a strawberry.”

The crowd cheered loudly.

You sauntered over and settled on Jake’s lap, your short skirt riding up slightly. He brought a strawberry to your lips, fingers brushing them deliberately. You bit into it, juice dripping down your chin. Jake leaned in and licked it off slowly, fangs scraping your skin.

Sunghoon, next to you, leaned over. “Truth or Dare, sunshine?”

“Dare,” you answered again, cheeks flushed.

“I dare you to kiss my neck… like you mean it.”

You laughed nervously but pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Sunghoon’s neck. His hand gripped your thigh under the table.

The game grew riskier. Heeseung dared you to whisper something naughty in his ear. Jungwon dared you to do a short lap dance on him. By the end of the segment, you were glowing pink, breathless, and visibly affected. The boys looked one second away from losing control.

The second the showcase ended and the cameras were off, the boys didn’t even wait to reach the green room.

Heeseung pushed you against the corridor wall, the others forming a protective circle around you.

“You were so fucking perfect out there,” Heeseung growled, fangs scraping your neck as he hiked your skirt up. “Dancing with Jake like that… teasing us on stage in front of everyone…”

Jake pressed against your back. “Sitting on my lap, letting me feed you… you knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

“You looked way too tempting,” Sunghoon added, cold fingers sliding between your thighs. “We could all smell how wet you got playing with us on camera.”

They took you right there in the dimly lit backstage hallway fast, possessive, and filthy.

Heeseung fucked you first while you muffled your moans against Jake’s neck. The others took turns, marking you, praising you, filling you until your legs shook and your pink aura lit up the entire corridor.

“You take us so well,” Jay groaned as he thrust deep inside you. “Such a good girl for us.”

When they finally finished, you were glowing, thighs sticky, and breathing hard. You used your power to clean up and fix your outfit in seconds.

You adjusted your ribbon, gave them a bright, satisfied smile, and said cheerfully,“Great job today, everyone~ Ready for the next schedule?”

The boys stared at you with pure dark adoration.

It happened during the encore of ENHYPEN’s biggest concert yet — “Crimson Desire” World Tour, Seoul stop.

You were on stage with them again, wearing a stunning blood-red mini top with black ribbon- attached baggy jeans and your white ribbon tied in your hair like a signature. The crowd was screaming your name alongside the boys’. You had just finished a special dance break when the lights flickered.

At first, everyone thought it was part of the show.

Then the explosions started.

Black-clad figures stormed the stage from multiple entrances — the Purifiers. They wore suppression gear and carried weapons designed to neutralize enhanced abilities. Gunshots mixed with screams as security clashed with them.

“Get her!” one of the attackers shouted, pointing straight at you.

Chaos erupted.

Heeseung moved faster than anyone had ever seen him. He grabbed you and shielded you with his body as Jake and Ni-ki blurred forward, taking down attackers with brutal efficiency. Sunghoon froze the floor beneath a group of assailants, sending them crashing. Jay sent arcs of electricity through the air, disabling their weapons. Sunoo used shadows to confuse and blind them. Jungwon coordinated everything with hands raised with terrifying calm.

You activated your power immediately. A bright pink radiance exploded from you, wrapping around all seven boys. It amplified their abilities while creating a protective barrier around you.

“Stay behind us!” Heeseung growled, fangs fully extended, eyes blazing gold as he held you tightly against his chest.

But the attackers were prepared. One of them fired a special dart that grazed your arm before Heeseung could fully shield you. A burning sensation spread through your veins — a temporary suppression agent.

You gasped, knees buckling slightly, but you forced a bright (though strained) smile.

“I’m okay… don’t lose control, please—”

Too late.

The boys snapped.

The vampire Alphas went full feral. Their powers surged beyond anything they had shown publicly. Ni-ki became a deadly blur, tearing through enemies. Heeseung roared and smashed through a entire group with raw strength. The arena became a battlefield.

Security and remaining staff tried to evacuate fans while the boys protected you like a queen in the center of war.

By the time reinforcements arrived, most of the Purifiers were down or fleeing. The stage was destroyed. Blood and debris everywhere.

Heeseung refused to let you go even after the danger passed. He carried you backstage, the others surrounding you like a pack of enraged predators.

You were breathing hard, arm burning from the dart, but you still tried to calm them with your pink aura.

“I’m fine,” you whispered, touching Heeseung’s cheek. “See? Still glowing.”

But the boys weren’t calming down easily this time.

“They tried to take you,” Jake snarled, electricity crackling around him. “Right in front of us.”

Jungwon’s voice was ice cold. “This was planned. Someone on the inside helped them.”

Dr. Voss arrived minutes later, looking pale and shaken.

“This attack… it’s worse than we thought. The Purifiers have connections inside HYBE and Helios. They want to eliminate the Alpha project… and take you for study.”

Heeseung’s grip on you tightened possessively.

“Then we’re done playing nice,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “You are not leaving our sight again. Ever.”

You looked up at all seven of them, blood on their clothes, eyes glowing, fangs out and felt both terrified and strangely safe.

The thriller had officially begun.

The world had seen ENHYPEN as glamorous vampire idols.

Tonight, they showed the world what they really were when someone tried to take their Anchor.

The attack at the concert left the entire industry shaken.

HYBE and Helios Corporation held emergency meetings for days. Publicly, they praised ENHYPEN’s heroism in protecting fans and you. Privately, they saw an opportunity.

And they chose Heeseung.

Three days after the Purifiers incident, you were called into a high-level HYBE meeting along with the boys. You wore a soft cream-colored sweater dress with thigh-high boots and your signature white ribbon, trying to keep the mood light despite the heavy tension in the air.

The CEO didn’t waste time.

“Due to the recent attack, we’ve decided to adjust ENHYPEN’s activities for safety and career growth. Heeseung will begin solo promotions immediately — a full solo album, solo world tour, brand ambassadorships. This will reduce the target on the group as a whole. The rest of ENHYPEN will continue as a unit while Heeseung builds his individual brand.”

The room went dead silent.

Heeseung’s golden eyes darkened dangerously. “You want to separate me from my group?” His voice was low, venomous, fangs slightly visible. “After everything we’ve been through, you think you can just rip me away from my pack like this?”

The CEO smiled smoothly. “It’s strategic. You’re the leader, the face. This solo path will elevate the entire group’s value. Dr. Y/N can divide her time between you and the members. It’s best for everyone.”

You felt the shift in the air instantly. The boys’ powers flared — Jay’s sparks dancing across his knuckles, Sunghoon’s frost creeping over the meeting table, Ni-ki’s hands blurring with barely contained speed.

You reached out quickly, sending a calming pink wave across all seven of them.

But Heeseung was already standing, fists clenched. “You think you can rip me away from them? From her? After everything?”

Jungwon, the actual leader of ENHYPEN, stood up beside him, shadows curling darkly around his frame. His usual calm voice was ice-cold and sharp. “This isn’t about safety. This is about control. You want to weaken our bond, divide us, and use her as leverage. I won’t allow it. ENHYPEN stays together.”

The other members backed them up immediately.

Jake’s eyes glowed. “She belongs with all of us. Not split between schedules.”

Sunghoon’s voice was freezing. “Try it. See what happens.”

The meeting ended in heavy, dangerous tension. Heeseung was officially given a separate schedule starting the next week.

That night in the penthouse, the boys were feral.

Heeseung hugged you tight, tears running down his eyes.

“They think they can separate me from my group,” he growled, fangs buried deep in your neck in a hug. “Like I’d ever leave you and my brothers.”

You hugged him, legs wrapped tightly around him, your pink aura glowing brightly. “You won’t… I won’t let them…”

But the separation still started.

Heeseung was moved to a different floor. His schedule became packed with solo work. You were expected to split your time.

The pack bond was straining.

One night, after a late solo recording session, Heeseung finally broke.

He stormed into the main dorm where the rest of the members and you were, eyes blazing pure gold, fangs fully extended.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” he snarled. “They want to separate me from my group so they can weaken us. Control us. Use you as leverage. I won’t let them tear our pack apart.”

Jungwon stood up immediately, shadows flaring. “Neither will I. I’m the leader of ENHYPEN. We stay together or we don’t exist.”

The others agreed fiercely — Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, Sunoo, and Ni-ki all radiating lethal energy.

You looked at all seven of them and whispered, “So… what now?”

Heeseung kissed your forehead, then looked at his members with pure resolve.

“We escape. All of us. Together. And we take you with us.”

The very next morning, they put the plan in motion.

As soon as you all stepped into the HYBE building corridor after a “mandatory strategy meeting,” Heeseung grabbed your hand tightly.

“Now,” he said.

Jake took the lead. He had disappeared for hours once during intense practice weeks and had found a hidden service route. “Follow me. There’s a secret passage near the fire exits. I used it when I got tired of practicing.”

They moved fast.

Heeseung never let go of your hand as you all sprinted down the corridor. Alarms started blaring the moment security noticed. Jungwon used shadows to blind the cameras. Jay fried the electronic locks. Sunghoon froze the floor behind you to slow down pursuers. Ni-ki blurred ahead to clear the path. Sunoo wrapped you in protective darkness. Jake led you through a narrow maintenance door he’d discovered long ago.

You ran with them, heart pounding, hair fluttering wildly, but your pink aura glowed stron, amplifying their powers and keeping them focused.

Gunshots echoed behind you. Security was chasing.

Heeseung pulled you closer, shielding you with his body as you burst through a final fire exit into an underground parking area Jake had mapped out.

A black van was already waiting, Sunoo had arranged it discreetly using his shadows the night before.

They piled in with you safely in the middle. Heeseung kept your hand in his the entire time.

As the van sped away into the Seoul streets, disappearing into the city, Heeseung looked at you, breathing hard but victorious.

“No more separation. No more control. You’re ours, and we’re leaving this cage together.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, pink aura wrapping around all of them like a promise.

“Then let’s run.”

The company had tried to separate Heeseung from ENHYPEN.

Instead, they lost all of them and their precious Anchor.

The real chase had just begun.

The black van tore through Seoul’s streets like a bullet.

You sat squeezed between Heeseung and Jungwon in the back, heart hammering. You had changed quickly during the escape into something more practical, a black cropped skull graphic tee that showed a sliver of your stomach, baggy dark jeans, and combat boots. Your white ribbon was still tied securely in your messy hair.

Gunshots echoed behind you. Multiple black SUVs from HYBE security and Helios forces were in pursuit.

“Jake, drive faster!” Sunghoon shouted, frost spreading across the window as he froze the road behind you, causing one pursuing car to spin out.

Jake laughed wildly, hands tight on the wheel. “This is what I trained for. Hold on!”

The chase turned into a full high-speed drift through the city.

Jake drifted sharply around corners near Gangnam, tires screaming. Ni-ki leaned out the window and shot precise bursts of energy at the tires of the closest SUV. Sunghoon froze entire sections of road. Fans on the sidewalks pulled out their phones, filming in shock as ENHYPEN sped through Seoul in broad daylight with you in the middle of it all.

You grabbed a gun from the floor and rolled down the window. Your hands shook slightly but your pink aura steadied you. You fired two shots, hitting the front tire of another pursuer. The car swerved violently.

Heeseung’s eyes glowed with pride. “That’s our girl.”

Through pure skill, Jake’s hidden routes, and all your combined powers, you finally shook most of the tail. The van screeched into the underground parking of the ENHYPEN Tower.

You all sprinted to the top three floors.

As soon as the elevator doors closed, the extreme stress unlocked something new inside all of you.

Jungwon’s shadows evolved into hallucinations, creating fake duplicates of the group. Sunoo gained full teleportation. Jay developed strong telekinesis. Heeseung’s voice gained hypnotic power. Sunghoon’s ice became far more potent and flame-like. Ni-ki’s speed reached insane new levels.

Jake suddenly gasped, eyes flashing. He gained his first major new power — short-range teleportation and perfect spatial awareness.

You felt your own pink aura grow even stronger.

Once inside the top three floors, they sealed everything. Heavy shutters came down. Jay used telekinesis to barricade the doors. Sunghoon froze the elevator shafts. The top three floors were now completely locked off from the world below.

You sat in the middle of the massive living room, still wearing your skull tee and baggy jeans, ribbon slightly messy from the escape. The boys gathered around you protectively.

Heeseung nodded. “Do it.”

You started a YouTube Live on your dance channel. Millions joined within seconds.

You looked straight into the camera, pink aura glowing softly, and spoke with calm determination.

“Hi everyone… If you saw the chase today, you probably have a lot of questions. We’re safe. But we’re not going back. HYBE and Helios Corporation created the boys as superpowered Alphas. They experimented on them. They tried to use me as their Anchor to keep them obedient. Today they tried to separate Heeseung from the group to break their bond. We won’t let them divide us anymore.”

The boys stepped into frame.

Heeseung spoke first, voice dark. “We’re done being their weapons and idols. We’re leaving this system.”

Jungwon added firmly, “ENHYPEN will continue but on our own terms. We’re starting our own company. Independent. Free.”

You smiled softly at the camera. “We’ll keep dancing. We’ll keep performing. But only when we want to. And no one will ever separate us again.”

Heeseung pulled you onto his lap in front of the camera.

“And you,” he said, looking straight at the lens while holding you possessively, “belong with all of us. Always.”

The live chat exploded. Millions of views in minutes. The world was watching history unfold in real time.

The company had tried to control them.

Now ENHYPEN was taking back their freedom with you right in the center.

The siege on the top three floors lasted only two days.

HYBE and Helios tried everything — negotiations, threats, even cutting power and water. But with your combined powers, they couldn’t touch you. Jungwon’s hallucinations confused the forces outside, Sunoo teleported supplies in, Jay’s telekinesis kept everything reinforced, and your pink aura kept the boys calm and strong.

On the third day, the company finally backed down publicly.

You all gathered in the living room, still riding the adrenaline. You were wearing your skull crop top and baggy jeans again, ribbon slightly loose in your hair, looking a little tired but brighter than ever.

Heeseung pulled you onto his lap and kissed your temple. “It’s time.”

You went live again on your channel. This time, the announcement was official.

With all seven boys surrounding you, you smiled at the camera and said, “We’re done with the old system. Today, we are proudly launching our own independent label — AETHER. A place where we create freely, perform when we want, and stay together as a real pack. No more experiments. No more control.”

Heeseung spoke next, voice steady and powerful. “ENHYPEN isn’t breaking up. We’re just finally free.”

Jungwon, as leader, added with a small proud smile, “And our Anchor stays with us. Always.”

The internet lost its mind. Support flooded in from fans all over the world. Within hours, AETHER was trending number one globally.

That same evening, after the live ended, the heavy shutters were still down but the mood inside the penthouse had completely changed.

No more running. No more fighting the company.

Just you and your seven boys.

You were all sprawled across the huge sectional couch, exhausted but laughing. Jake was dramatically reenacting his insane driving from the chase, making everyone crack up. Ni-ki kept teleporting small snacks into people’s hands to mess with them. Sunoo teleported behind you just to hug you suddenly, making you squeal.

Heeseung had his arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his chest. Jungwon was resting his head on your lap, playing with the end of your ribbon. The others were piled around you in one big mess of limbs and laughter.

Sunghoon took out his phone and snapped a picture without warning.

The photo was completely unscripted you in the middle, head thrown back laughing, white ribbon messy in your hair, surrounded by all seven boys who were smiling, fangs out, eyes glowing with pure happiness and love. No poses. No concepts. Just pure joy.

Heeseung looked at the photo and smiled softly.

“Post it,” he said.

You uploaded it to your channel with a simple caption:

“New chapter. Old family. Finally free.”

The picture spread like wildfire. Fans called it the most real and beautiful photo ENHYPEN had ever shared.

As the boys pulled you deeper into their pile, kissing you, teasing you, and holding you tight, you felt completely at peace.

You looked at all of them, your powerful, possessive, superpowered vampire Alphas and whispered with a bright, bubbly smile,

“This is perfect.”

And it really was.

@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

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[heesvnqie]

DESIRE: UNLEASH

pairing: enhypen!ot7 x reader genre: sci-fi au, dark romance, smut, enhanced alpha au, breeding kink, possessive yandere warnings: 18+ only, explicit smut, gangbang, dubcon, breeding kink, creampie, cum inflation, double/triple penetration, heat cycle sex, possessive behavior, marking, overstimulation, power imbalance word count: 12.7k (phew!) author's note: god i finally finished it 😭 this was such a wild, filthy ride and i’m honestly obsessed with how it turned out. thank you for reading and staying with dr. y/n and her seven feral alphas. we might return to this ff soon with a part 2… so if you want more (domestic life, future heats etc.) just let me know..thank you again for all the support!<3

Your name was Dr. Y/N, and you were one of the brightest rising stars in behavioral psychology, especially in the niche field of extreme neurological and genetic modification cases. At 24 years old, you had already consulted on several classified government projects with a bright smile, bubbly energy, and the kind of warm personality that made even the coldest subjects open up during sessions.

That last part was what made Helios Corporation reach out to you.

It started with a single encrypted email on a cold Monday morning in your quiet Seoul apartment.

“Project Aether – Confidential Invitation. We need the best. Compensation: 850 million KRW for the first six months. Full NDAs required.”

You almost deleted it. But curiosity and the staggering amount of money made you attend the initial meeting.

Two days later, you were sitting in a sleek black conference room thirty floors underground, surrounded by men in suits who never smiled. They laid out the project clearly:

Seven carefully selected young men. All volunteers. All in peak physical and mental condition. All willing to undergo progressive human enhancement for the sake of national defense.

Your job was simple on paper: Observe. Document. Stabilize. Keep them sane while their bodies and minds were rewritten.

The money was life-changing. The risks were high. You asked every hard question. You read every risk assessment. You knew this was dangerous.

Still… you signed the contract with a big smile.

Week 2.

Enhancements had not truly begun yet.

You walked into Observation Room 4 with a bounce in your step, wearing your crisp white lab coat over a soft pastel blouse, hair tied in a neat but cute bun with a little ribbon. Tablet in one hand, a bright smile already on your face.

Behind the reinforced glass, Subject 01 was waiting.

Heeseung sat leaning back lazily, legs spread, black uniform fitting him perfectly. His sharp eyes lifted and locked onto you the second you entered.

You pressed the intercom button and waved cheerfully.

"Hi there! I'm Dr. Y/N," you said with an enthusiastic lilt in your voice. "I'll be your psychologist throughout the project! It's so nice to finally meet you, Heeseung. How are you feeling today?"

Heeseung stared at you for a long moment, clearly surprised by your energy. The corner of his mouth slowly lifted.

"So... you're the one they sent to babysit us while we go crazy?" His deep voice sent a little shiver down your spine, but you kept smiling.

You laughed softly, tilting your head.

"Not babysit! I'm here to support you and make sure you're mentally okay during all the changes. We're in this together, okay? Think of me as your friendly guide through all the science stuff!"

Heeseung's eyes darkened with interest as he leaned closer to the glass.

"You're really young... and way too bubbly for a place like this," he murmured, voice low. "Do you smile this much for all your subjects, Doctor?"

You grinned and shrugged playfully.

"Only for the ones who look like they need it! Now, let's start with some easy questions. How have you been sleeping? Any worries about the upcoming procedures?"

Heeseung chuckled, the sound rich and deep.

"I sleep better knowing someone as cute as you is watching over me."

You met the others over the next three days, bringing the same warm energy to every session.

With Jay, who was sharp and a little skeptical, you leaned forward excitedly.

"Jay! I've read your files. You're super smart. I love working with intelligent people! Tell me, how are you really feeling about all these tests?"

Jay raised an eyebrow, but his lips twitched.

"You always this cheerful, Doctor? Or are you secretly terrified of us?"

"Terrified? No way!" you laughed. "I'm excited! This project could help so many people one day. And I want to make the journey easier for all of you."

Jake immediately matched your energy with a bright grin of his own.

"Wow, Doctor, you're like actual sunshine," he said warmly. "Can I call you Y/N instead of Dr. Y/N? It feels friendlier."

You giggled. "Only during casual talks! But yes, I like friendly."

Sunghoon was quiet at first, just staring intensely. You didn't let the silence bother you.

"Sunghoon~ You have such cool visuals! Are you uncomfortable? Do you need anything to feel more relaxed during our talks?"

He finally spoke, voice low. "...You're not scared of me."

"Nope!" you said brightly. "I think we're going to get along great."

Sunoo melted a little at your sweetness.

"Dr. Y/N, you're so kind," he said softly, smiling back at you. "You really care, don't you?"

"Of course I do! That's why I'm here," you replied happily.

Jungwon watched you with calm intensity but answered your questions politely.

"You have a lot of energy, Doctor."

"I do!" you beamed. "Gotta keep the mood light, right?"

And Ni-ki was the most forward.

"Damn, Doctor. You're actually cute as hell," he grinned, fangs not yet present but his energy already wild. "I like you. When can we meet without the glass?"

You laughed, waving your hand.

"Patience, Ni-ki! Professional boundaries first, okay? But I promise I'll always be honest with you."

By the end of the first week, you had detailed profiles on all seven, but you also felt genuinely fond of them already.

You kept telling yourself they were subjects... but it was hard when they were all so interesting.

As the enhancements began, you watched everything through the observation glass.

First came muscle and bone density treatments. Week after week their bodies changed — shoulders broadening, muscles growing sharper and stronger. You noted every mood swing and wrote detailed reports, but you still visited them with the same bright energy.

The therapy sessions slowly grew more charged.

One day Heeseung leaned close to the glass, eyes intense. "Do you have a boyfriend waiting for you outside, Doctor?"

You blushed but laughed. "Hey! That's private information, Mr. Heeseung! Focus on you, not me~"

Jake teased you every session. "One real smile without the professional mask, please? Your smiles make my day better, Y/N."

Sunghoon stared longer and longer. One day he said quietly, "You smell nice today." His voice had a new, darker edge.

You giggled nervously but answered, "Thank you! I changed my body wash. Glad you noticed."

Their stares started changing. What used to be curiosity slowly turned into something hungrier, darker, more possessive.

By Month Four the final hormonal cocktail was administered. This phase pushed their strength, recovery speed, and primal instincts into overdrive.

That was when everything cracked.

Violent incidents started. Handlers were injured. The boys became restless and aggressive with everyone except when they heard your voice over the speakers.

You would speak in your usual bright but firm tone, "Hey guys, it's Dr. Y/N. Can you please calm down for me? I know it's hard, but I'm right here, okay? Breathe with me."

Every time, all seven of them would stop and listen.

Month Five.

You were called into an emergency meeting. The Director and Dr. Elias Voss showed you the footage. All seven subjects were in reinforced cells, pacing like predators. Their bodies were now much larger and more powerful. Their eyes had a faint glow and their teeth looked slightly sharper.

"They have imprinted on you, Dr. Y/N," the Director said seriously. "You are the only compatible Anchor. Without regular close contact with you, their minds become unstable and feral."

You stared at the screens. Heeseung was looking straight at the camera like he could see you.

Dr. Voss added gently, "We need you to become their official Anchor. You would live with them in the final habitat level. Daily proximity. Physical contact when needed. Your body would also receive minor modifications for safety and endurance. Their breeding instincts are extremely high now. This will not stay clinical."

The room was silent as you thought.

You bit your lip, then lifted your chin with bold determination.

"If my presence can really help stabilize them… if I can make a real difference here… then I'll do it. I'll become their Anchor."

You signed the new contract with steady hands, even though your heart was racing.

Three weeks after signing, you woke up slowly on the medical bed. Your body felt sore and strangely sensitive. Thick restraints held your wrists and ankles. IV lines were still in your arms. Your head throbbed lightly.

Dr. Elias Voss entered and helped unclip the restraints.

"Welcome back, Dr. Y/N. The synchronization was successful. Your body has been adjusted to better handle their pheromones and physical strength."

He turned the large glass wall transparent.

Your breath caught.

On the other side stood all seven of them in a luxurious common area. They looked completely transformed — taller, broader, radiating raw power. Their black uniforms stretched tight over powerful muscles. Their eyes glowed with open, dark hunger as they stared at you.

Heeseung stepped forward and pressed his large hand against the glass. His voice came through the speakers, low and rough.

"Finally… Our bubbly little Anchor is awake."

Jake smiled, but the look in his eyes was pure lust. "You smell even sweeter now, Y/N."

Sunghoon dragged his gaze slowly down your body, dark and unashamed.

Sunoo tilted his head with a sweet smile that didn't hide the hunger. "We missed you so much, Doctor."

Jungwon watched you like a leader claiming his prize. "Welcome to your new home with us."

Ni-ki smirked, fangs clearly visible. "Been waiting too long to get my hands on you properly."

Dr. Voss spoke quietly beside you. "Individual sessions begin tomorrow. Try to keep them calm as long as you can."

Heeseung's eyes burned into yours, dark and full of promise.

"Come to us soon, sunshine. We've been starving for you… in every way."

Your heart pounded hard. You felt nervous, but you also felt that spark inside you. You were no longer just their doctor.

You were their Anchor now.

And something much deeper, much more primal, had officially begun.

Dr. Elias Voss gave you a few hours to rest and adjust before the first session began. You changed into a fresh white lab coat over a soft lavender blouse and simple black pants, tied your hair into your usual cute bun with the little ribbon, and took a deep breath.

"Alright," you whispered to yourself with a small smile. "You've got this, Y/N. They're still the same guys... mostly."

When the door to the habitat level opened, the scent of warm cedarwood, something sweet, and raw masculine energy hit you all at once. The luxurious common area was massive — soft lighting, large couches, a full kitchen area, and an open gym space in the corner. It looked more like an expensive penthouse than a facility.

All seven of them were waiting.

The moment you stepped inside, their heads turned in perfect sync. The air instantly felt thicker.

You put on your brightest professional smile and waved.

"Hi everyone~! Good morning! Or... afternoon? I’m not sure what time it is anymore," you said with a soft laugh, trying to keep your voice light. "How are you all feeling today?"

Heeseung was the first to move. He walked straight toward you, slow and deliberate, until he was only a few steps away. Up close he looked even bigger than before. His shoulders were wider, his jaw sharper, and his eyes had a faint golden ring around the dark pupils.

"Sunshine," he said, voice low and rough. "You have no idea how good it feels to finally have you here without glass between us."

You tilted your head, still smiling even as your heart raced.

"Well, here I am! No more glass. But remember, we still have rules for the sessions. I’m here to help keep you stable, okay?"

Jake appeared beside Heeseung, smiling brightly but with clear hunger in his eyes.

"You smell incredible," he murmured. "Even better than before. Did they change something in you?"

You giggled nervously and took a small step back, opening your tablet.

"Maybe a little! Just to help with compatibility. Now, who wants to go first for their individual session?"

All seven of them stared at you like they wanted to be first.

Dr. Voss’s voice came through the hidden speakers.

"Start with Heeseung, Dr. Y/N. One hour sessions. We’ll be monitoring.

You led Heeseung into the private session room attached to the habitat. It was comfortable — two couches facing each other, soft lighting, and a small table. No glass. No barrier.

Heeseung sat down, legs spread wide, arms resting on the back of the couch as he watched you. You sat across from him, crossing your legs and smiling.

"So! Let’s begin like usual. How have you been feeling since the last round of enhancements? Any mood swings, headaches, or aggressive thoughts?"

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. His eyes slowly traveled from your ribbon down to your lips, then lower.

"I feel… hungry," he said finally. "All the time. Especially when I think about you."

You blinked but kept your bubbly tone.

"Hungry is pretty normal with the hormonal changes! We can work on ways to manage that. Maybe some meditation or—"

"Do you know what I think about when I’m hungry, Doctor?" he interrupted, leaning forward. His voice dropped. "I think about pulling you onto my lap and burying my face in your neck. I think about how soft you’d feel. How sweet you’d taste."

Your cheeks flushed pink. You laughed softly, trying to play it off while writing notes.

"Heeseung… that’s very direct," you said, still smiling but with a slightly higher pitch. "Those kinds of thoughts are part of the new instincts. We should talk about healthier outlets."

Heeseung smirked, dark and slow.

"You’re even cuter when you blush. Do you know how long we’ve waited to be this close to you?"

The rest of the session continued like that — you trying your best to guide the conversation back to clinical topics while Heeseung kept steering it toward you. How you smelled, how your voice affected him, how he wanted to touch your hair.

When the hour ended, he stood up and gently brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear before you could react. His fingers felt burning hot.

"Next time, I won’t be so polite, sunshine."

The next session was with Jake.

He was more playful but no less intense. The moment the door closed he moved closer on the couch, sitting only one seat away.

"You’re nervous," he said with a warm smile. "Your heart is beating fast. I can hear it."

You giggled and lightly tapped your tablet.

"Jake! Personal space, remember? And stop showing off your new super hearing."

He laughed, but his eyes stayed locked on you.

"I missed your laugh. The way you bounce when you walk. The little ribbon in your hair. Did you wear it for us?"

You touched the ribbon self-consciously.

"It’s just my usual style! Now tell me — any trouble controlling your strength lately?"

Jake reached out and gently took your hand, turning it over in his much larger one. His thumb stroked your wrist.

"My strength is fine. It’s the other instincts that are hard to control," he said softly. "I keep imagining pinning you down and filling you up until you can’t think straight. Until you’re carrying our scent."

Your breath hitched. You pulled your hand back gently but kept smiling.

"Jake… that’s the breeding instinct talking. We need to work on redirecting those thoughts."

He just grinned wider. "I don’t want to redirect them. I want you."

Sunghoon’s session was quieter but heavier.

He barely spoke for the first fifteen minutes, just staring at you with those icy yet burning eyes. When he finally talked, his voice was low.

"Come closer."

You shook your head with a playful smile. "We can talk just fine from here~"

"You’re scared I’ll lose control?" he asked.

"No. I trust you to behave during sessions," you replied cheerfully, even though your pulse was racing.

Sunghoon leaned forward.

"I want to bite you. Right here," he touched his own neck. "And then lick it better. Over and over."

You swallowed but kept your tone light. "Biting is… a strong urge. We should add that to the list of things to manage."

By the time you finished the first four sessions (Heeseung, Jake, Sunghoon, and Sunoo who was sweetly terrifying with how gently he described wanting to ruin you), you were exhausted but still smiling.

Dr. Voss met you in the small monitoring room.

"You’re doing well," he said. "They’re calmer than they’ve been in weeks. But their fixation is getting stronger. Tomorrow you’ll do sessions with Jungwon and Ni-ki."

You nodded, cheeks still warm.

"They’re very… intense now."

Voss gave you a careful look. "That’s only the beginning, Doctor. Their need for you physically is only going to grow."

That night you slept in your own assigned room inside the habitat level. The door locked from the outside for “safety.”

You lay in bed, heart still racing from all the things they had said to you during the day.

Through the wall, you could faintly hear low voices talking. Then a soft growl. Then Heeseung’s deep voice clearly saying.“Soon.”

You pulled the blanket higher, a strange mix of nervousness and warmth blooming in your chest.

This was going to be much harder than you thought.

The next morning you woke up feeling a little more refreshed but still flushed from yesterday’s sessions. You chose a soft mint green blouse under your white lab coat today and tied your hair in your signature cute bun with the small white ribbon. Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the common area with your usual bright energy.

"Good morning, everyone!" you called out cheerfully, holding your tablet. "I hope you all slept well. Who’s ready for today’s sessions?"

All seven of them were already gathered. Their eyes followed your every movement the second you appeared. The hunger from yesterday had not faded. If anything, it looked stronger.

Jungwon was the first for the day.

You led him into the private session room and sat down with a warm smile.

"Hi Jungwon~ Let’s start like always. How are you feeling after all the changes? Any new urges or difficulties controlling them?"

Jungwon sat across from you, posture straight and composed even though his eyes were anything but calm. He looked at you quietly for a long moment before speaking.

"You look tired, Doctor," he said softly. "Did you have trouble sleeping because of us?"

You laughed lightly and waved your hand.

"A little bit! It’s a new environment after all. But I’m okay! Now tell me about you."

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.

"I keep thinking about you at night," he admitted, voice calm but heavy. "About how small you are compared to us now. How easily I could pick you up and put you wherever I want. How you would sound if I held you down and bred you full until you couldn’t move."

Your pen stopped moving for a second. You felt heat rush to your face but forced yourself to keep smiling.

"Those thoughts are very strong, Jungwon. That’s the new instincts working. We can try breathing techniques or—"

"I don’t want to control it," he interrupted gently but firmly. "I want to act on it. With you. All of us do."

He stared at you with quiet intensity, the kind that made it hard to look away.

You swallowed and wrote a few notes, keeping your voice bubbly.

"Well… we’ll work on finding a balance, okay? Step by step."

When the session ended, Jungwon stood up and gently touched the ribbon in your hair.

"This is cute," he murmured. "Makes me want to pull on it while I’m behind you."

You let out a surprised little giggle and stepped back.

"Boundaries, Jungwon!"

He just smiled softly before leaving.

Ni-ki’s session was the most chaotic.

The tall maknae walked into the room with a big smirk, immediately dropping onto the couch right next to you instead of across from you. His thigh pressed against yours.

"Ni-ki," you scolded playfully, scooting away. "Personal space, remember?"

He grinned, showing his sharp fangs.

"I’ve been waiting days to be this close to you, Doctor. Personal space is overrated."

You laughed despite the way your heart was racing and tried to start the session.

"Tell me about your energy levels. Any aggression spikes?"

"Only when I think about how long I’ve wanted to fuck you," he answered without hesitation. "I want to put you on all fours and mount you like an animal. I want to bite your neck while I fill you up. Over and over until you’re dripping with me."

Your cheeks burned bright red. You covered your face with the tablet for a second before peeking over it with a shy but determined smile.

"Ni-ki! You can’t just say things like that so casually!"

"Why not?" he asked, leaning even closer. "You smell so fucking good when you’re embarrassed. It makes me harder."

You stood up quickly, still trying to keep things light.

"Okay! Maybe we should continue this session with you sitting on the other couch, yeah?"

He laughed but obeyed, though his eyes never left your body for the rest of the hour. He kept teasing you with filthy comments wrapped in that playful tone until you were a flustered mess by the end.

After all individual sessions were done, Dr. Voss announced through the speakers that you could have group time in the common area for the rest of the evening.

You joined them for dinner. The table was full of food specially prepared for their enhanced bodies. You sat down and tried to keep the mood bright.

"Wow, this looks delicious! Let’s eat a lot, okay? You all need the energy."

They ate while watching you. The conversation started normal but quickly turned dangerous again.

Sunoo, who had been the gentlest during his session, suddenly spoke while staring at your neck.

"Your skin looks so soft, Doctor. I keep imagining how it would look with my marks all over it."

Jake reached over and lightly touched the back of your hand.

"You’re blushing again. It’s cute."

Heeseung, sitting at the head of the table, spoke in his deep voice.

"You’re doing well, sunshine. Staying so cheerful even though we keep telling you how badly we want to ruin you."

You took a sip of water and smiled, though your voice was a little breathy.

"I’m here to help you, not to run away. We can handle this together."

Jay smirked from across the table.

"You say that now. But when all seven of us lose control at the same time… even someone as bubbly as you might have trouble keeping up."

The table went quiet for a moment. The air felt thick with tension.

You stood up with a bright smile, trying to ease the atmosphere.

"Alright! Who wants to play a board game? We should do something fun to relax!"

A few of them agreed, but as the night went on, they kept finding small ways to get closer to you. Heeseung sat right beside you on the couch. Ni-ki kept brushing his leg against yours. Sunghoon stared at your lips like he wanted to devour them.

By the time you went back to your private room and locked the door, your legs felt weak and your mind was spinning with everything they had said to you.

You changed into your sleep clothes and lay in bed, heart beating fast.

Through the wall, you could hear them talking in low voices. Then a soft, deep growl echoed.

Heeseung’s voice carried clearly,"She’s holding on so well… but not for long."

Another voice (you thought it was Jay) answered,"I give it a few more days before we can’t hold back anymore."

You pulled the blanket up to your chin, breathing a little faster.

A strange warmth had started spreading through your body. You weren’t sure if it was just nervousness…

…or something the facility had changed in you.

The next few days followed a similar routine, but the tension in the habitat kept rising.

Every morning you walked into the common area with your bright smile, cute ribbon in your hair, and fresh lab coat, trying your best to keep things professional and light.

"Good morning, my favorite seven!" you sang out cheerfully on the sixth day. "Who’s ready for today’s check-ins? I brought some new calming exercises we can try together!"

They were all waiting again. Their stares had grown bolder. More possessive.

Heeseung’s eyes lingered on your legs. Jake licked his lips slowly. Ni-ki looked like he wanted to pounce.

You did group sessions that morning instead of individual ones. All seven of them sat in the large circle with you in the brightly lit therapy room.

"Today we’re going to talk about managing instincts," you said, clapping your hands with enthusiasm. "I know the new urges are very strong, but we can find healthy ways to—"

"Can we touch you?" Sunoo asked sweetly, cutting you off. His angelic smile made the question sound almost innocent.

You blinked. "For… therapeutic reasons?"

Jungwon answered calmly, "Physical contact helps stabilize us. That’s what the doctors said, right?"

You hesitated for a second but nodded, keeping your bubbly tone.

"Okay, but only hands and arms for now. And be gentle!"

That was all the permission they needed.

Heeseung immediately pulled you closer until you were sitting between him and Jay on the big couch. His large hand settled on your thigh, thumb slowly stroking the fabric of your pants.

"Soft," he murmured near your ear. "Even softer than I imagined."

Jake took your left hand and placed it on his chest.

"Feel that?" he asked. "My heart beats faster when you’re close."

You laughed nervously, cheeks turning pink, but tried to continue the session.

"See? This is good. Grounding touch can help lower aggression. Now let’s talk about—"

Sunghoon, sitting on the floor in front of you, suddenly rested his head on your knee. His hand wrapped around your calf possessively.

"You’re warm," he said quietly. "Smell so fucking good."

You swallowed hard but kept smiling.

"Sunghoon, that’s nice, but maybe a little higher than the knee would be better—"

He ignored you and gently pressed his nose against your thigh, inhaling deeply.

Ni-ki groaned from the other side. "Hyung, stop hogging her. I want a turn too."

The next hour became less of a therapy session and more of them finding excuses to touch you. Fingers brushing your waist. Hands playing with the ends of your hair. Jungwon gently tugging your ribbon while whispering how he wanted to use it to tie your wrists.

You were flushed and slightly breathless by the end.

"Alright! That’s enough physical contact for today," you announced, standing up quickly. "Great progress everyone!"

But your voice was a little higher than usual.

Later that evening, they convinced you to watch a movie together in the common area.

You sat on the massive sectional sofa with a big bowl of popcorn, trying to act normal. Within ten minutes, you somehow ended up in the middle of all of them.

Heeseung had his arm around your shoulders. Jake’s hand rested on your knee. Sunoo was playing with your fingers. Ni-ki kept nuzzling into your hair whenever he laughed.

Halfway through the movie, Jay leaned in and spoke lowly against your ear.

"Your scent is driving us insane, you know that?"

You turned your head, still trying to keep it light. "It’s just the shampoo I—"

"No," Jay interrupted, eyes dark. "It’s you. Sweet. Fertile. Ready."

Your breath hitched.

Heeseung’s hand on your shoulder tightened slightly as he added, "We can smell how your body is changing too. The facility made you more sensitive, didn’t they?"

You bit your lip and tried to focus on the movie, but your heart was racing.

"I’m… I’m just here to help you stay stable," you said softly, voice a little shaky but still warm.

Sunghoon, on your other side, suddenly pulled you onto his lap in one smooth motion. You let out a surprised squeak.

"Sunghoon!"

"Stay," he ordered quietly, arms wrapping around your waist. His chest was burning hot against your back. You could feel how hard he was through his pants, pressing against you.

The others watched with dark, hungry eyes.

You stayed there, flustered and warm, trying to act like this was still normal.

"You guys are getting really touchy lately," you said with a nervous giggle.

"Because we’re running out of patience," Ni-ki answered honestly. "Every night we talk about how we want to fuck you. How we want to fill you up until you’re swollen with our cum. How pretty you’ll look carrying our babies."

Your face burned. You squirmed on Sunghoon’s lap without thinking, which only made him groan and hold you tighter.

"Be careful moving like that, Doctor," he warned, voice strained. "I’m barely holding back as it is."

You stayed frozen after that, heart hammering wildly while the movie continued playing.

When it finally ended, Heeseung stood up and offered you his hand.

"Time for bed, sunshine."

He walked you all the way to your bedroom door. The others followed close behind like a pack.

Before you could close the door, Heeseung placed his hand on the frame, leaning down until his face was inches from yours.

"One day soon," he said quietly, eyes glowing with lust, "you’re not going to close this door on us."

You looked up at him, cheeks pink, breath a little fast, but still managed a small, brave smile.

"Goodnight, Heeseung."

You closed the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

Your body felt hot all over. A strange ache had started low in your stomach. The modifications they made to you were definitely working — you were becoming more sensitive to their pheromones every single day.

From the other side of the door, you heard seven low, deep voices murmuring.

And one clear sentence from Jungwon,"Soon. She’s almost ready."

The next day the facility staff increased the “physical proximity allowance.” Dr. Voss told you it was necessary for better data. You had groaned. Man, this was getting too much now. You tried to stay positive when you stepped into the common area.

"Good morning, boys!" you greeted with your usual bright smile, ribbon bouncing in your hair. "Should we do some group breathing exercises today?"

The words barely left your mouth before Heeseung was already walking toward you. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of you, towering over your smaller frame.

"No breathing exercises today, sunshine," he said, voice low and rough. Without waiting for permission, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you flush against his chest.

Your hands instinctively pressed against his hard stomach.

"H-Heeseung… at least let me put my tablet down first," you laughed nervously, trying to keep your bubbly tone.

Jake appeared behind you instantly, pressing his body against your back and sliding his hands over your hips.

"You don’t need the tablet right now," Jake murmured against your ear, his breath hot. "You need us."

Before you could reply, Sunghoon took the tablet from your hands and placed it on the couch. Then he stepped close and cupped your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks.

"You’re getting red again," he said quietly, eyes dark. "Cute."

They didn’t give you any space. You were completely surrounded — Heeseung in front, Jake behind, Sunghoon holding your face, while the others slowly closed in.

You let out a shaky giggle.

"Okay… this is a lot of morning affection…"

Sunoo smiled sweetly as he reached out and gently tugged the ribbon in your hair.

"Can I take this off?" he asked softly, already sliding it free. "I want to see your hair down."

Your hair tumbled over your shoulders. Ni-ki groaned at the sight.

"Fuck… that’s so much better."

Jungwon stepped closer and ran his fingers through your loose hair, gripping it lightly at the roots.

"You look prettier like this," he said calmly. "Easier to hold onto."

Your heart was racing. Their hands started moving again — bolder than yesterday.

Heeseung’s big palm slid down your back and rested just above your ass, pulling you tighter against him so you could feel how hard he already was. Jake’s hands roamed over your waist and stomach, occasionally brushing just under your blouse. Sunghoon leaned in and pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

You squirmed between them, breath coming faster.

"Guys… we’re supposed to be doing a session…"

"This is the session," Jay said, stepping in to kiss the other side of your neck. "Stabilizing ourselves with our Anchor."

They slowly guided you toward the big couch. Heeseung sat down first and pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling one of his thick thighs. Jake sat right beside him and tugged you closer until your side pressed against his chest.

You tried to protest weakly, "This position is… really not professional—"

"Shh," Heeseung whispered, one large hand stroking up and down your thigh. "Just sit with us for a while."

For the next hour, they kept you trapped on the couch in the middle of them. Their touches grew steadily more possessive.

Fingers slipped under the hem of your blouse to caress bare skin. Hands squeezed your thighs. Someone (you were pretty sure it was Ni-ki) gave your ass a firm squeeze every time you tried to shift positions. Sunoo kept nuzzling into your neck, occasionally sucking gently on your skin, leaving faint marks.

At one point, Jungwon pulled you from Heeseung’s lap onto his own. He positioned you so you were sitting with your back against his chest, then wrapped one arm around your waist while his other hand rested dangerously high on your inner thigh.

"You’re trembling," he whispered in your ear. "Are you scared… or excited?"

You bit your lip, face burning.

"A little bit of both," you admitted in a small voice.

Heeseung, now kneeling in front of you, slowly pushed your legs further apart so he could settle between them. His hands stroked up your thighs, getting closer and closer to where you were secretly throbbing.

"Look at me, sunshine," he ordered softly.

When you did, he leaned in and pressed a slow, deep kiss just below your ear, then another lower on your neck. You couldn’t stop the tiny whimper that escaped you.

Jake chuckled darkly. "She makes such pretty sounds."

The touches kept getting heavier. They took turns pulling you onto their laps. Every time you moved to another lap, different hands explored your body — squeezing your waist, gripping your hips, stroking your thighs, occasionally brushing teasingly between your legs over your pants.

By the time lunch came around, you were flushed, breathless, and visibly affected.

During lunch they didn’t let you sit alone. You stayed on Jay’s lap while he fed you bites from his plate.

After eating, they pulled you back to the couch.

This time they laid you down completely. Heeseung rested your head on his thigh, stroking your hair. Jake and Sunghoon each claimed one of your legs, slowly rubbing up and down. The others sat around you, hands never leaving your body.

"You’re doing so well, Doctor," Sunoo praised sweetly, even as his fingers traced circles dangerously close to your chest. "Letting us touch you like this…"

You were starting to lose the ability to form proper sentences.

"I… I think we should slow down a little…" you breathed out.

Ni-ki smirked and leaned down to kiss your stomach over your blouse.

"We’re only just getting started."

The day continued like that — long, endless touches, heated whispers, and growing hunger. By evening, your lab coat was long discarded, your blouse was wrinkled and slightly unbuttoned at the top, and your body felt like it was on fire.

When Dr. Voss’s voice finally came through the speakers announcing the end of the day’s session, you were a trembling, pink-faced mess.

Heeseung kissed your forehead gently before helping you up.

"Go rest, sunshine," he said, voice husky. "Tomorrow… we won’t be this gentle anymore."

You walked back to your room on shaky legs, feeling seven pairs of eyes burning into your back.

The moment your door locked, you leaned against it and slid down to the floor, breathing hard.

This was no longer an experiment.

They were claiming you.

And you were running out of reasons to stop them.

The next morning, before you could even step into the common area, Dr. Elias Voss called you into the monitoring room.

You sat across from him, still wearing your lab coat, hair tied with your little ribbon. But your neck and thighs still carried faint marks from yesterday’s touches.

“Dr. Y/N,” he began, looking serious. “I’ve reviewed the footage. Their behavior has crossed the line. The physical contact is becoming far too intense and sexual. This is supposed to be a controlled experiment, not… whatever this is turning into.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“They’re just… adjusting to the new instincts,” you said softly, trying to defend them. “The enhancements made their drives very strong. They’re calmer when they can touch me.”

Dr. Voss shook his head.

“They are becoming dangerous. We’re seeing increased aggression when you’re not in the room. If this continues, we’ll have to pull you out and separate you from them for your own safety. I’m going in to speak with them right now. They need to tone it down immediately.”

Your eyes widened.

“Wait— Dr. Voss, maybe I should talk to them instead—”

But he was already standing.

When you both entered the common area, all seven of them were waiting. The moment they saw Dr. Voss standing protectively close to you, their expressions darkened.

Dr. Voss spoke firmly, voice echoing in the large space.

“Subjects, your physical interactions with Dr. Y/N have exceeded safe parameters. From now on, you will maintain a minimum distance. No touching without explicit approval. No sexual comments. No marking. If you cannot follow these rules, we will remove Dr. Y/N from the habitat immediately for her protection.”

The air instantly became heavy.

Heeseung’s jaw clenched. His eyes flashed with clear anger.

“You want us to stay away from our Anchor?” he growled, voice low and threatening.

Jake’s hands curled into fists. “She belongs with us. You don’t get to decide how much we touch her.”

Sunghoon took a dangerous step forward. “Say that again.”

The tension exploded.

Ni-ki suddenly lunged forward with a snarl, aiming straight for Dr. Voss. Jungwon and Jay barely managed to grab him, holding him back as he fought against their grip, muscles bulging with rage.

“You fucking touch her and I’ll rip your throat out!” Ni-ki shouted.

Sunoo, usually the softest, had a terrifyingly cold smile on his face. “You want to take her away from us? After you made her our Anchor?”

Heeseung looked like he was one second away from violence too. His golden-ringed eyes were locked on Dr. Voss like prey.

Two security guards quickly entered the room, but they looked terrified.

Dr. Voss stepped back, visibly nervous now.

“See?” he said to you urgently. “This is exactly what I was worried about. We need to separate you right now for your safety. Come with me, Dr. Y/N.”

He reached for your arm.

But you stepped forward, placing yourself between the boys and Dr. Voss.

“Wait!” you said loudly, your voice still carrying that bright but firm tone. “Everyone, please calm down!”

You turned to the seven of them. They were breathing heavily, eyes wild with anger and possessiveness.

You gave them your softest, warmest smile.

“It’s okay,” you said gently. “I’m fine. Really. Dr. Voss is just worried about me… but I chose this. I chose to be your Anchor. I’m not scared of you.”

You slowly walked closer to them, even as Voss tried to stop you.

You reached out and gently placed your hand on Heeseung’s chest. His breathing was ragged, but he stilled under your touch.

“I’m staying,” you said clearly, looking at all of them. “We can compromise, okay? Just… try not to be too rough. For me?”

The boys slowly relaxed — but only because you were touching them and speaking softly.

Heeseung grabbed your waist and pulled you against him protectively, glaring at Dr. Voss over your head.

“She stays,” he declared, voice final. “If anyone tries to take her, we will destroy this entire facility.”

The other six moved closer, surrounding you like a protective pack.

Dr. Voss looked extremely uncomfortable, but he could see that forcing the issue right now would end badly.

“…Very well,” he said stiffly. “But I’m increasing monitoring. Any extreme behavior and this experiment ends. Dr. Y/N, you have final authority to call for extraction if it becomes too much.”

You nodded, still smiling even though your heart was racing.

“Thank you, Dr. Voss. I’ve got this.”

As soon as Dr. Voss left the room, the boys turned all their attention back to you.

Heeseung’s grip on your waist tightened.

“You defended us,” he murmured, voice dark and pleased. “Good girl.”

Jake pressed against your back, kissing the side of your neck.

“You’re really ours now, aren’t you?”

You let out a shaky breath, cheeks warm.

“I’m your Anchor… so yes. I’m staying with you.”

Sunghoon tilted your chin up.

“You just stopped us from tearing that man apart,” he said quietly. “That means you understand. We need you.”

The atmosphere had completely shifted again. Their bad mood was turning into something even more intense — raw hunger mixed with dark satisfaction that you had chosen them.

Ni-ki stepped close and whispered against your ear,

“Now that you’ve told them you’re staying… we don’t have to hold back as much, right?”

Your breath hitched.

This was getting more dangerous by the day.

Dr. Elias Voss sent a message asking you to come to the monitoring room alone. The seven boys were told to wait in the common area.

You walked in nervously, still wearing your slightly wrinkled lab coat and ribbon in your hair. Dr. Serena Voss and the senior staff doctor were already waiting inside with Dr. Elias.

Dr. Serena smiled at you gently and asked you to sit down.

“Dr. Y/N… I'm Dr. Elias's wife,” she began. "We wanted to speak with you privately."

Dr. Elias Voss looked serious.

“We’ve been monitoring their latest data. The heat cycle is starting sooner than expected. Their hormonal levels are spiking dramatically.”

The senior staff doctor was more direct.

“To put it plainly… they’re going to want to fuck you. All seven of them. Probably quite aggressively. Their breeding instincts are extremely high right now. They’ve been fantasizing about it for weeks — filling you up, breeding you, claiming you completely.”

Your cheeks burned red. You gripped the edge of your seat.

Dr. Serena continued calmly,

“During the heat, they may lose control. They might fuck you for hours. One after another, or even more than one at the same time. Their bodies will demand release inside you. We’ve modified your body to handle it, but it will still be intense.”

She leaned forward slightly.

“You still have a choice. We can try to sedate them through the worst of it… but it will be painful for them, and there’s a high chance they’ll break containment to get to you anyway.”

Dr. Elias Voss added quietly,

“If you go into that nest room with them, expect to be fucked. Thoroughly. They see you as their mate now. This won’t be gentle clinical sex. It will be raw.”

You sat there in silence for a long moment, heart pounding hard in your chest. Your face was completely flushed.

“I… I understand,” you whispered, voice small but steady. “I chose to be their Anchor. I’m not going to abandon them now.”

Dr. Serena gave you a sympathetic look.

“Then we’ll prepare the nest room. Take a few minutes to collect yourself before you go back to them.”

The three doctors left you alone in the monitoring room for a moment.

You sat there, breathing shakily, thighs pressed together as you tried to process everything they had just told you so bluntly.

When you finally stepped back into the common area, all seven boys turned to look at you at once. They could clearly see how flushed and nervous you were.

Heeseung walked over immediately and pulled you into his arms.

“What did they say to you?” he asked, voice low.

You hid your face in his chest, voice muffled.

“…Nothing important,” you lied softly. “Just some medical updates about the heat cycle.”

Jake stepped closer and gently stroked your back.

“You’re shaking, baby,” he murmured. “Your heart is racing.”

Sunghoon tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You’re lying. You smell even more nervous now.”

You hugged Heeseung tighter, refusing to lift your head.

“I’m okay… really. I’m just a little overwhelmed. That’s all.”

Ni-ki chuckled darkly from behind you.

“They told you we’re going to fuck you, didn’t they?”

You didn’t answer. You just pressed your burning face deeper into Heeseung’s chest.

Heeseung’s hand rubbed slow circles on your lower back.

“You don’t have to tell us,” he said gently, but his voice was getting rougher. “We already know what’s coming.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head.

“Come on, sunshine. Let’s go to the nest room.”

The seven of them surrounded you as they guided you toward the large reinforced nest room. Your heart was beating so fast you could barely think.

You had chosen this.

And now there was no turning back.

The nest room was enormous and dimly lit, with a massive circular bed in the center covered in soft black and cream sheets. There were pillows everywhere, making it look like a giant nest. The boys guided you inside and closed the heavy reinforced door behind them.

At first, they were surprisingly gentle.

Heeseung sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you onto his lap, cradling you carefully. The others sat around you in a circle, watching you with intense but controlled eyes.

“You’re safe here,” Heeseung murmured, stroking your back slowly. “We’re not going to jump on you like animals… not yet.”

Jake leaned in and kissed your temple softly. “Try to relax, sunshine. We know this is a lot.”

You gave them a small, nervous smile, still trying to keep your bubbly tone even though your voice was shaky.

“Okay… good. Because I’m really nervous,” you admitted with a soft laugh. “Seven of you is… a lot.”

They kept you in the middle, touching you gently — hands on your waist, thighs, hair, and back. No one pushed further. They were clearly waiting.

You stayed like that for almost an hour, talking quietly, them comforting you while their bodies grew hotter against yours.

Then the clock on the wall struck 12:00.

The main lights in the room slowly dimmed, shifting into a deep, warm red glow. The temperature in the room seemed to rise instantly.

All seven of them stiffened at the same time.

Their breathing changed — becoming heavier, deeper. Their eyes darkened dramatically, the golden rings around their pupils glowing brighter. You could feel their bodies heating up against you, muscles tensing.

A small hidden earpiece you didn’t even know you were wearing crackled to life.

Dr. Serena’s voice spoke calmly but clearly,“Heat cycle has officially begun, Y/N. Their pheromones and aggression levels are spiking. Get ready. They won’t be able to hold back much longer. Remember to breathe. Your body can handle them.”

The moment she finished speaking, Heeseung’s grip on your waist became much tighter. A low, deep growl rumbled from his chest.

“Fuck…” he cursed under his breath, burying his face in your neck and inhaling deeply. “You smell so fucking good.”

Jake’s hand slid up your thigh, squeezing harder than before.

“Sunshine…” he groaned, voice strained. “I can’t… I need you.”

Ni-ki crawled closer, eyes completely feral now as he stared at you like prey.

“I’m so fucking hard it hurts,” he growled.

The gentle touches from earlier were rapidly disappearing. Their hands grew bolder, gripping, squeezing, pulling you closer like they were losing control by the second.

Sunghoon reached out and started unbuttoning your blouse with shaky fingers, breathing heavily.

Jungwon’s usual calm voice was gone, replaced by a low, dangerous tone,“Take her clothes off.”

You let out a shaky breath, heart hammering wildly in your chest as seven pairs of glowing eyes locked onto you with pure, unrestrained lust.

“Fuck…” Heeseung breathed against your neck. “It’s starting.”

Dr. Serena’s voice crackled softly in your earpiece one last time,“Heat cycle is active. It will be for the next 24 hours. Try to breathe, Y/N. They won’t be able to hold back now.”

Heeseung’s lips crashed against yours in a deep, desperate kiss. No more gentleness. This kiss was hungry, possessive, and consuming. His tongue claimed your mouth as his hands roamed down your body, ripping your blouse open roughly. Buttons scattered across the bed.

Jake was behind you instantly, yanking your pants and panties down your legs in one swift motion, leaving you completely exposed.

“So fucking pretty,” Jake groaned, his hands spreading your thighs wide for the others to see.

You whimpered into Heeseung’s mouth as Sunghoon dropped between your legs and dragged his tongue slowly up your soaked pussy, groaning at your taste.

“She’s dripping,” Sunghoon growled before sucking your clit into his mouth.

You jerked hard, moaning loudly. Ni-ki grabbed your hair and turned your head, feeding his thick, heavy cock past your lips.

“That’s it… suck me, Doctor,” he moaned, slowly pushing deeper into your mouth.

They worked in perfect sync.

Heeseung pulled away from your lips only to latch onto your breast, sucking hard on your nipple while Jay claimed the other one. Jake and Sunoo kissed and bit along your neck and shoulders, leaving dark marks everywhere.

Sunghoon pushed two long fingers inside you while still licking your clit, curling them perfectly against that spot that made your eyes roll back.

You were moaning helplessly around Ni-ki’s cock, body trembling as pleasure attacked you from every direction.

After a few minutes, Heeseung moved between your legs.

“Look at me,” he ordered, voice rough.

You barely managed to meet his glowing eyes before he lined up his massive cock and pushed inside you in one long, slow, powerful thrust.

A muffled scream left your throat as he stretched you open so wide it burned.

“Fuck… so tight,” Heeseung groaned deeply, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “You’re taking me so well, sunshine.”

He started fucking you with deep, heavy strokes — pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. The wet, obscene sounds of his cock plunging into your soaked pussy filled the entire room.

Ni-ki pulled out of your mouth and was quickly replaced by Jake, who fucked your throat more eagerly.

They began rotating.

After Heeseung had fucked you hard for several minutes, Jay took his place, pounding into you even rougher. Then Sunghoon. Then Jake.

Every time one of them came, they buried themselves as deep as possible and pumped you full of thick, hot cum.

By the time the fourth load was shot inside you, your pussy was a creamy, messy wreck — cum leaking out with every thrust.

You were crying, shaking, and moaning incoherently, lost in overwhelming pleasure.

Sunoo smiled sweetly even as he pushed his cock into your cum-filled pussy.

“Our pretty little cumdump,” he whispered lovingly while fucking you slow and deep, pushing the previous loads even deeper inside you.

Jungwon was next. He gripped your hips hard and fucked you with powerful, precise strokes, eyes locked on your face the entire time.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he praised. “Taking all of us like a good Anchor.”

Ni-ki was the roughest. He flipped you onto all fours and fucked you from behind like an animal, spanking your ass hard while growling.

“Fuck yes— take my cock. Gonna fill you until you’re pregnant with our babies.”

Heeseung knelt in front of you and fed you his cock again, fucking your throat while Ni-ki destroyed your pussy from behind.

You were completely surrounded.

Used.

Claimed.

Filled.

And they still had hours left in their heat.

The red lights made everything feel hotter, more sinful.

You were a complete mess — covered in sweat, cum, and marks from their mouths and hands.

Ni-ki was still fucking you hard from behind, his hips slamming against your ass with wet, filthy sounds.

“Fuck— I’m gonna cum again,” he growled, spanking your ass hard before burying himself deep. You felt another thick load shoot inside you, so much that it leaked out around his cock and dripped down your thighs.

The moment he pulled out, Jungwon took his place again.

He flipped you onto your back again and pushed your legs up toward your chest, folding you in half.

“Look at this pretty pussy,” Jungwon groaned, staring at the mess they had made of you. “So full of our cum already…”

He slid inside easily because of how wet and stretched you were. His thrusts were deep and controlled, but each one was powerful enough to make your breasts bounce.

“So good,” he moaned. “You were made to take our cocks.”

Heeseung moved beside your head and fed you his cock again, slowly fucking your throat while Jungwon bred your pussy.

You were crying around Heeseung’s cock from the overwhelming pleasure, body shaking every time Jungwon hit that perfect spot inside you.

After Jungwon filled you with his load, Jake and Jay moved together.

Jake lay down on the bed and pulled you on top of him, sliding his cock back into your messy pussy in one smooth thrust. He held you against his chest as Jay knelt behind you.

You whimpered when you felt Jay’s cock press against your already full pussy.

“W-wait— both?” you gasped.

“Yes, baby,” Jake whispered, kissing you softly. “You can take it.”

Jay pushed in slowly, stretching you even more. The feeling of two thick cocks inside you at the same time made your eyes roll back and a broken moan rip from your throat.

“Fuck— so tight,” Jay groaned, slowly starting to move.

They found a rhythm — Jake thrusting up while Jay thrust down. The double penetration made you feel impossibly full. Every movement made wet, squelching sounds as cum was pushed out of you.

Sunoo knelt beside you and stroked your hair gently, even as he pushed his cock into your hand.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered sweetly. “All fucked out and full of us.”

Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Ni-ki watched with dark eyes, stroking themselves as they waited for their next turn.

Jake and Jay fucked you together until they both came deep inside you, adding even more cum to the mess.

By the time they pulled out, your pussy was gaping slightly, creamy white cum pouring out of you in thick streams.

But they weren’t done.

Sunghoon pulled you onto his lap, facing him, and sank you down on his cock. Heeseung moved behind you and pushed back into your pussy as well, making it three cocks stretching you at once — though only two were inside your pussy.

You screamed in pleasure, completely overwhelmed.

Heeseung growled in your ear, “That’s our good girl. Taking everything we give you.”

They used your body for what felt like hours — rotating positions, fucking you alone, in pairs, sometimes making you ride them while others used your mouth and hands.

Every single one of them came inside you at least twice.

Your belly felt swollen and heavy with their cum. Your voice was hoarse from moaning and crying their names. Tears of overwhelming pleasure ran down your cheeks.

At one point, all seven of them were touching you at the same time — hands, mouths, cocks everywhere.

Heeseung was fucking you deep while whispering hotly against your ear:

“Gonna keep you like this for days, sunshine. Full of our cum. Breeding you until it takes.”

You came again hard, shaking violently as another orgasm ripped through your body.

They praised you nonstop.

“Good girl.”

“Our perfect Anchor.”

“Taking our cocks so well.”

“Gonna look so pretty pregnant with our babies.”

Hours blurred together in a haze of sweat, cum, and overwhelming pleasure. Your voice had gone hoarse from screaming their names, your bubbly professionalism long shattered into broken moans and whimpers.

By hour six, they had you in the center of the massive bed, surrounded by pillows soaked with fluids. Heeseung had you riding him reverse cowgirl, his thick cock buried to the hilt while Jay knelt in front of you, feeding his own length down your throat. Every bounce made more cum from previous loads leak out around Heeseung’s shaft, dripping messily onto the sheets.

“Fuck, look at her,” Jake groaned from the side, stroking himself as he watched. “Our pretty little Anchor is stuffed so full she’s leaking everywhere.”

Sunghoon moved behind Heeseung and pushed two fingers alongside his hyung’s cock, stretching you even wider. You sobbed around Jay’s length, thighs shaking violently as another orgasm tore through you.

Sunoo, ever the deceptively sweet one, cupped your face gently while Jay used your mouth. “You’re doing so well, Doctor~ Taking every drop like you were made for us.” He leaned in and kissed your tear-streaked cheek even as your body jolted from the double penetration below.

Ni-ki and Jungwon took turns claiming your breasts, sucking hard enough to leave blooming marks while their hands roamed your swollen belly, already rounded slightly from the sheer volume of cum pumped into you.

They rotated constantly. Sometimes two in your pussy, one in your ass (after careful but relentless preparation), one in your mouth, and the rest using your hands or marking your skin. At one point they had you completely suspended between them — Heeseung and Sunghoon holding your legs wide open while Jake and Jay fucked into you together, their cocks rubbing against each other inside your overfilled cunt.

The wet, filthy sounds echoed endlessly. Growls, praises, and filthy promises filled the air.

“Gonna breed you until your womb is overflowing,” Jungwon panted, slamming into you with precise, punishing thrusts.

“You’ll smell like us for weeks,” Sunghoon growled against your neck before biting down.

Ni-ki was the most vocal and wild, fucking your ass with deep, animalistic snaps of his hips while calling you his favorite cumslut in that playful-yet-feral tone.

Hours passed. The heat made them insatiable.

They came inside you over and over — thick, heavy loads that made your belly visibly swell. Your pussy and ass were puffy, red, and constantly leaking their seed. At times they simply held you down and took turns breeding you slowly, savoring the way your body clenched and milked them even when you were too exhausted to do more than tremble.

By hour fourteen you were a limp, sobbing, blissed-out mess. They had to hold you up for most positions now, but they never stopped praising you.

Jungwon, ever the leader, pulled you into his arms during a brief lull around hour eighteen. The red lights were still glowing, but their movements had grown slightly less frantic.

He kissed you deeply, almost tenderly, while the others pressed close, hands stroking your marked skin.

“You’re ours now, sunshine,” he whispered against your swollen lips. “No more pretending this is just clinical. You belong in this nest.”

You could only nod weakly, voice gone, but you managed a tiny, exhausted smile — that same bubbly spirit flickering through even now. “Y-yeah… yours…”

The final hours were slower, deeper. They took you one by one again, savoring every last thrust as the heat cycle began to wane.

Jungwon was last, folding you gently beneath him and rocking into you with long, possessive strokes while the others watched, hands still touching you everywhere.

When he finally came, flooding you with what felt like the heaviest load yet, the red lights slowly faded back to soft white.

The heat cycle ended.

Silence settled over the nest room, broken only by heavy breathing and the soft sounds of shifting bodies. All seven of them collapsed around you in a protective pile of limbs and warmth. You lay in the center, completely spent, body aching in the best and worst ways, covered in marks, sweat, and drying cum. Your belly was noticeably rounded from everything they’d pumped into you. Your hair was a wild mess, ribbon long lost somewhere in the sheets.

Heeseung pulled you gently against his chest, stroking your back with surprising tenderness. His voice was rough but soft now. “You did so well, Y/N. Our perfect little doctor.”

Jake nuzzled into your neck from the other side, pressing soft kisses to the marks he’d left. “We’re so proud of you, baby. You took everything.”

Sunghoon rested his head on your thigh, eyes closed, one hand gently massaging your sore muscles. Sunoo curled against your stomach, kissing the swollen area almost reverently. “We’ll take care of you now.”

Jay brought water and a warm cloth, carefully cleaning your face and neck while Jungwon and Ni-ki massaged your legs and feet. They were all still hard, but the feral edge had dulled into deep, possessive satisfaction.

“You’re not leaving this nest for a while,” Ni-ki murmured, though his tone was playful again. “Doctor’s orders can wait.”

You let out a weak, raspy laugh — the first real sound you’d made in hours that wasn’t a moan or sob.

“I… I think I’m going to need a new lab coat,” you whispered, voice completely wrecked. “And maybe… a week of recovery.”

They chuckled softly around you, the sound warm and affectionate now that the peak of the heat had passed.

Dr. Serena’s voice eventually came through the hidden speakers, sounding both impressed and slightly concerned.

“Cycle complete. Vital signs stable. Dr. Y/N, you… handled that exceptionally well. We’ll give you all 48 hours before any further check-ins. Rest.”

The speakers clicked off.

Heeseung tucked you more securely against him, the others closing in until you were cocooned in their heat and scent. Someone pulled a soft blanket over all of you.

“Sleep, sunshine,” Heeseung murmured, lips brushing your forehead. “We’ve got you.”

As your eyes fluttered shut, surrounded by seven enhanced, utterly devoted mates, you felt a strange mix of exhaustion, satisfaction, and warmth blooming in your chest.

You had chosen this.

And even as your body ached and your mind floated in a pleasure-drunk haze, a small, bubbly part of you whispered that you didn’t regret it.

Not even a little.

The experiment had evolved far beyond science.

You were theirs now.

And they were never letting their Anchor go.

The nest room was quiet except for the soft sound of breathing and the occasional rustle of sheets. The red emergency lights had long faded, replaced by the gentle, warm white glow of the habitat’s normal lighting. You had no idea how long you’d been asleep—only that your body felt heavy, sore in the most intimate places, and deliciously used.

You woke up slowly, cradled against Heeseung’s broad chest. His arm was locked around your waist, possessive even in sleep. Jake was spooned behind you, face buried in the back of your neck, while Sunghoon’s head rested on your thigh like it belonged there. The others were tangled around you in a warm pile of limbs and muscle.

A tiny whimper escaped you when you tried to shift. Everything ached—your thighs, your core, your throat. Your belly still felt oddly full and swollen from the sheer amount of cum they’d pumped into you.

Heeseung stirred immediately, golden-ringed eyes cracking open. His voice was low and rough with sleep. “Sunshine… you’re awake.”

The others woke almost in sync, like a pack sensing their mate’s movement. Soft kisses and gentle hands immediately began moving over your body—checking, soothing, claiming.

“Easy,” Jay murmured, pressing a warm cloth between your legs to clean you carefully. “You were so good for us, baby.”

Sunoo nuzzled against your stomach, kissing the soft, slightly rounded swell there with almost worshipful tenderness. “Look at you… still carrying so much of us.”

You let out a weak, raspy laugh, your usual bubbly tone cracking through the exhaustion. “I feel like I got hit by a truck… seven very enthusiastic trucks.”

Ni-ki chuckled, fangs flashing as he grinned. “You took all seven trucks like a champ, Doctor.”

They didn’t let you move much for the first few hours. Someone brought water and electrolyte drinks. Jungwon fed you small bites of nutrient-dense food by hand while Jake massaged your sore legs. Heeseung kept you mostly on his lap, your back against his chest, his large hands gently rubbing circles over your swollen belly.

“You did so well,” he whispered against your ear, voice full of pride and lingering hunger. “Our perfect Anchor. We were worried we’d break you… but you kept smiling even when we were ruining you.”

You blushed deeply, hiding your face against his neck. “I… I chose this. I’m not going to run away now.”

The 48-hour recovery window passed in a blur of gentle touches, deep kisses, and surprisingly soft intimacy. They took turns holding you, bathing you in the large attached bathroom, and whispering praises. The feral edge of the heat had dulled, but their possessiveness remained—stronger than ever.

When Dr. Voss finally allowed you all back into the main habitat area, you tried to return to some semblance of professionalism.

You showed up in a fresh white lab coat over a soft baby blue blouse, hair neatly tied in your signature cute bun with the little white ribbon. Tablet in hand. Bright smile on your face, even if you were still walking a little carefully.

“Good morning, everyone~!” you greeted cheerfully, though your voice was still slightly hoarse. “How are my favorite seven feeling today? Any lingering… side effects from the heat?”

They were all waiting for you.

The moment you stepped fully into the room, the atmosphere thickened. Seven pairs of eyes tracked your every movement with dark, satisfied hunger.

Heeseung was on you first. He pulled you against his chest without hesitation and kissed you deeply, tongue claiming your mouth like he hadn’t spent the last 24 hours inside you.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless and flushed.

“H-Heeseung! We’re… we’re supposed to do a proper check-in session—”

Jake appeared behind you, arms sliding around your waist. “Check-in can wait five minutes. We missed you.”

“You were literally sleeping on top of me for two days,” you laughed, trying to sound stern but failing as Sunghoon tilted your chin up for a slow, deep kiss of his own.

Sunoo smiled sweetly while playing with the ribbon in your hair. “You look so cute trying to be professional again… even with our marks all over your neck.”

You instinctively tugged your collar higher, cheeks burning.

Dr. Voss’s voice came through the speakers, sounding exhausted. “Dr. Y/N, try to keep them… contained. We’re resuming light sessions today. Physical contact is still permitted but try not to… escalate immediately.”

The boys smirked.

“Too late,” Jungwon said calmly, pulling you onto his lap on the big couch. He positioned you sideways so your legs draped over his thigh, one hand resting possessively high on your inner thigh.

The “session” quickly became them taking turns holding you while you asked your questions. You tried to stay focused—recording mood stability, energy levels, any residual aggression—but it was nearly impossible.

Every time you tried to write notes, someone would kiss your neck, squeeze your thigh, or slide a hand under your blouse to caress bare skin. Ni-ki kept nipping at your ears. Sunghoon stared at your lips like he wanted to devour them again.

At one point Heeseung pulled you onto his lap facing him, your core pressed right against the obvious bulge in his pants.

“You’re still wet,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. “I can smell it. Our cum is still leaking out of you, isn’t it?”

Your breath hitched. You gripped his shoulders, trying to keep your voice steady. “T-That’s… scientifically interesting. We should monitor—”

Jay leaned in from the side and bit your shoulder lightly. “Stop pretending you don’t love it.”

You lasted another twenty minutes before your tablet was gently taken away and set aside.

This time they didn’t go into full heat mode. Instead, they loved you slowly on the big sectional couch—taking turns fucking you with deep, lazy thrusts while the others watched and touched you. No rushing. Just long, claiming strokes and filthy praises whispered against your skin.

When they finally finished, you were once again a flushed, cum-filled, blissed-out mess in the middle of them, lab coat discarded somewhere on the floor, blouse open, ribbon slightly crooked in your messy hair.

Heeseung stroked your cheek, eyes glowing with dark affection.

“You’re not our doctor anymore, sunshine,” he said softly but firmly. “You’re our mate. Our Anchor. Our everything.”

You looked up at all seven of them—tall, powerful, completely devoted—and felt that familiar mix of nervousness and warmth bloom in your chest.

A small, genuinely bubbly smile tugged at your swollen lips.

“…I think I’m okay with that.”

Weeks later,

The experiment had fundamentally changed.

Sessions still happened—mostly because you insisted on keeping some structure—but they almost always ended with you being passed between them, filled, marked, and praised until you couldn’t remember your own name.

Your body had adapted even further. You craved their touch now. Their scent. The feeling of being completely surrounded and claimed.

Some mornings you still greeted them with your bright “Good morning, boys~!” and cute ribbon… only to be bent over the nearest surface within minutes.

They never got tired of you.

And deep down, you never wanted them to.

You were theirs.

Completely.

Author: If you ever want an epilogue, just say the word, baby. I’m here.

@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

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[heesvnqie]

Across The Hall

pairing: jay (park jongseong) × reader (you) genre: neighbors-to-lovers, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, tension word count: 10.3k+ warnings: breakup angst, mentions of virginity/insecurity from past relationship, slow burn, smut,cussing, biting/marking, fingering, begging, unprotected sex (a big NO-NO)

You drag the last cardboard box into your new apartment, arms burning, eyes stinging from the mix of dust and unshed tears. The place is small, quiet, and on the third floor of a surprisingly nice complex in a calm Seoul neighborhood — far enough from your old life that you won’t accidentally run into him.

Him. Your ex-boyfriend of two years.

The one who held your hand, called you “baby,” cuddled you every night… but never once wanted to have sex with you.

You’d convinced yourself it was romantic. That he was waiting for the “right moment.” That he respected you too much.

Until last week, when he sat you down with tears in his eyes and whispered, “I think I’m gay. I’ve been trying so hard not to be, but… I can’t keep lying to you or myself.”

The world had tilted. All those nights you lay awake wondering what was wrong with you — your body, your touch, your desirability — suddenly made brutal sense. You weren’t enough because you were never going to be what he needed. And the worst part? He still loved you. Just not like that.

So here you are. Fresh start. New apartment. Virgin at twenty-three with a broken heart and a mountain of self-doubt.

You wipe your face with the back of your sleeve and start unpacking the bare minimum: a few clothes, your laptop, and the cheap instant coffee you bought on the way. The storm outside is already picking up, thunder rumbling low in the distance. Perfect weather for your mood.

The hallway lights flicker as you step out to throw away the empty boxes. That’s when you see him for the first time.

Across the hall, door slightly ajar, stands a guy in all black — black hoodie, black jeans, black boots. Sharp jawline, dark hair falling over his eyes, a silver chain glinting at his neck. He’s leaning against the doorframe like he owns the building, scrolling on his phone with one hand while the other holds a motorcycle helmet.

You’ve heard the rumors from the landlord already: Park Jongseong. Only son of some big-shot businessman. Spoiled. Keeps to himself. Rides a matte-black motorcycle that roars like thunder at odd hours. Never smiles. Girls in the building call him “ice prince” behind his back — half scared, half intrigued.

He glances up when your box scrapes against the floor. His eyes — dark, intense — flick over you once. No greeting. No nod. Just a flat, unreadable stare before he turns back to his phone and shuts his door with a soft click.

Rude. Whatever. You don’t need neighbors right now anyway.

Back inside, you collapse onto the bare mattress (bed frame still in pieces on the floor) and let the tears finally come. Ugly, heaving sobs that shake your shoulders as rain starts hammering the windows. You replay every moment you felt undesirable, every time he pulled away when things got heated, every “I love you” that now feels like a lie wrapped in kindness.

Your power flickers again. Once. Twice.

Then everything goes dark.

Great. Just great.

You sit there in the sudden silence, phone flashlight on, listening to the storm rage outside. No candles. No snacks. Just you, your heartbreak, and the sound of rain.

A knock on your door makes you jump.

You hesitate, heart racing. It’s late. You don’t know anyone here.

Another knock — firmer this time.

You creep to the door and peek through the peephole.

It’s him. The motorcycle guy. Jay.

He’s holding a small paper bag in one hand and two white candles in the other. His hair is slightly damp from the rain, and he looks… annoyed? Or maybe just bored.

You open the door a crack, keeping the chain on.

“…Yes?”

He doesn’t smile. His voice is low, a little rough, like he doesn’t use it often. “Power’s out on this floor. Landlord’s useless in storms.” He lifts the bag slightly. “Instant ramen. And candles. Figured the new girl might not have anything yet.”

You blink, stunned. This is the same guy who ignored you ten minutes ago?

“I— uh… thank you. You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, one shoulder rising lazily. “Didn’t want to listen to someone crying through the walls all night.” His eyes flick to your obviously red, puffy face for half a second before looking away. “Take it or don’t. I’m not standing here forever.”

The bluntness stings a little, but there’s something almost… soft under it. Like he’s pretending to be colder than he is.

You slide the chain off and take the bag and candles with shaky hands. Your fingers brush his for a split second — warm skin, calloused from who knows what.

“…I’m Y/N,” you mumble.

“Jay.” He pauses, then adds, almost reluctantly, “Welcome to the building. Try not to flood the hallway with your tears. Pipes are old.”

Before you can respond, he turns and walks back to his door, disappearing inside without another word.

You stand there holding the ramen and candles, the storm still howling outside.

For the first time all day, the smallest, tiniest huff of laughter escapes you.

What a weird, rude, strangely kind neighbor.

You close your door, light one candle, and boil water on your portable stove (thank god you bought it). As you slurp the cheap ramen by candlelight, you can’t stop thinking about those dark eyes and the way his voice dipped when he told you not to cry all night.

Maybe this new start won’t be completely lonely after all.

But you’re not ready to think about boys. Not yet. Not when your heart still feels like it’s been shredded.

Still… across the hall, the “scary” motorcycle guy just showed up with food and light when no one else did.

You blow out the candle later that night and fall asleep to the sound of rain, the faint rumble of thunder, and the distant memory of a black helmet and quiet kindness.

The storm has left everything damp and gray. Sunlight filters weakly through your thin curtains, and your body feels heavy from crying yourself to sleep. You wake up with swollen eyes and a dull ache in your chest that reminds you exactly why you’re here.

Two years. Wasted on someone who could never want you the way you wanted him. The virginity you guarded so carefully now feels like a joke — a punchline you didn’t see coming. Every time you close your eyes, you hear his gentle “I’m sorry” and feel the sting of not being enough for a man who turned out to want someone else entirely.

You drag yourself out of bed, splash cold water on your face, and decide the best distraction is coffee and fresh air. The power is back on, thank god, but the apartment still feels too empty. You throw on an oversized hoodie and leggings, grab your keys, and step into the hallway.

The moment you lock your door, you hear the low rumble of an engine from the parking lot below. You glance over the railing just in time to see him — Jay — swinging a leg over his matte-black motorcycle. He’s dressed in all black again: fitted black shirt that shows the faint outline of tattoos peeking from his sleeves, leather jacket slung over one shoulder, dark hair still messy from sleep. He looks expensive. Spoiled. Untouchable.

He doesn’t notice you at first. You watch as he revs the engine once, the sound cutting through the quiet morning like a warning. Then he pauses, helmet in hand, and his gaze lifts — straight to where you’re standing.

Your eyes meet for a second too long. You feel exposed, like he can see the leftover redness around your eyes or the way your shoulders are still slumped from yesterday’s breakdown. Heat rushes to your face. You turn quickly and head down the stairs, pretending you were never staring.

By the time you reach the ground floor, he’s already pulling out of the lot, the motorcycle’s roar fading into the distance. Good. You don’t need another awkward encounter with the rich boy who probably thinks you’re a mess.

You walk to the small café two blocks away, order an iced americano, and sit by the window with your laptop, trying to distract yourself with job listings. But your mind keeps drifting. To the candles. To the instant ramen. To the way Jay’s voice had softened just a fraction when he told you not to cry through the walls.

He’s probably laughing about it with his rich friends right now. “Some pathetic new girl moved in and I had to play hero with ramen.”

You shake the thought away and focus on your screen. You need a job. You need normalcy. You do not need to think about the quiet, sharp-jawed guy across the hall who rides a motorcycle like he’s in a drama and hands out candles like it’s nothing.

Hours later, when you return to the building with grocery bags, the sky is starting to darken again with leftover clouds. Your arms are aching from the weight of rice, ramen, and cleaning supplies. As you struggle to balance everything while fishing for your keycard, you hear footsteps behind you.

“Need help?”

The voice is low and familiar. You nearly drop the bags.

Jay stands there, helmet tucked under one arm, keys in hand. Up close in daylight he looks even more intimidating — sharp eyes, perfect bone structure, a faint scar near his eyebrow that makes him look like trouble. But his expression isn’t cold today. It’s… neutral. Maybe even a little concerned.

You hesitate. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

He doesn’t move. “You look like you’re about to lose the battle with those bags.”

Before you can protest, he takes two of the heavier ones from your arms with effortless ease. His fingers brush yours again — same warm, calloused touch as last night. You swallow hard and mumble a quiet “thank you” as he follows you up the stairs.

The silence between you is thick. Your heart is beating too fast for no reason. This is the guy everyone warns about — spoiled son of a powerful father, probably never worked a day in his life, always in black like he’s auditioning for a villain role. Yet here he is, carrying your groceries like it’s normal.

At your door, you set the bags down and fumble with the key. He waits patiently, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. The black shirt stretches across his chest in a way that makes it hard not to notice how well-built he is under all that brooding exterior.

“You okay?” he asks suddenly, voice quieter than you expect.

You freeze, key halfway in the lock. “What?”

“Yesterday. You looked like you’d been crying for hours.” His eyes flick to your face, then away. “Didn’t mean to make it sound rude last night. Just… didn’t know what else to say.”

Your throat tightens. The breakup flashes through your mind again — the confession, the pity in your ex’s eyes, the way he never touched you like he wanted you. Virgin. Undesirable. Not enough for a straight man, apparently.

“I’m… dealing with some stuff,” you manage, voice small. “Bad breakup. New place. New everything.”

Jay nods once, slowly. He doesn’t push. Doesn’t offer fake sympathy or tell you it’ll be okay. He just stands there, presence steady.

“Storm knocked out more than power last night,” he says after a beat. “If it happens again, knock on my door. I have a generator in the basement unit my dad insisted on installing. Spoiled brat perks, I guess.”

There’s a hint of self-deprecating humor in his tone — the first crack in the ice-prince armor.

You let out a soft, surprised laugh despite yourself. “Thanks. Really. For the ramen too. It was… kind of you.”

He shrugs, pushing off the wall. “Don’t mention it. I hate eating alone when the building feels empty.” He pauses at his own door, hand on the knob, and glances back at you. “Name’s Jay, by the way. In case you forgot.”

“I remember,” you say softly.

For the tiniest moment, the corner of his mouth twitches — not quite a smile, but close. Then he disappears into his apartment with a quiet click of the door.

You stand there holding your groceries, heart doing something stupid and fluttery that you immediately shut down. No. You are not ready. Your body still feels like a betrayal, your confidence in pieces. The last thing you need is to develop a crush on the mysterious rich neighbor who rides a motorcycle and pretends he doesn’t care.

But as you unpack the ramen (the same brand he brought you), you can’t help replaying the way his voice softened when he asked if you were okay.

Maybe the “scary” guy isn’t as untouchable as he looks.

And maybe, just maybe, you’re not as invisible as you feel.

A few days pass in a blur of unpacking, late-night crying sessions you try to keep quiet, and forcing yourself to apply for jobs even when your confidence feels shattered. Every time you catch your reflection, the same thoughts loop: He never wanted me because I’m not what he needed. What if no one ever does? Being a virgin at your age suddenly feels like a neon sign screaming “broken” or “undesirable.” You push it down, but it lingers like a bruise.

The building is quiet most days, but you’ve started noticing patterns. Jay’s motorcycle usually leaves early and returns late. He keeps odd hours. You tell yourself you’re not watching for him — you’re just… adjusting to new sounds.

Tonight, you’re coming back from a late convenience store run, arms full of ramyeon and snacks to survive another lonely evening. The hallway lights are dim as you step off the elevator. That’s when you hear it: soft laughter. Female laughter. High, flirty, and way too close.

Your steps slow.

Jay’s door is cracked open. Inside, you catch glimpses of movement — two girls, both stunning in that effortless way. One with long wavy hair and a tight dress, the other in designer jeans and a crop top, holding a bottle of soju. They’re leaning against his kitchen counter like they belong there, giggling at something he said.

Jay stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his black t-shirt, hair slightly tousled like he just got off the bike. He’s not smiling, but there’s a relaxed tilt to his shoulders you haven’t seen before. One of the girls reaches out and playfully tugs at the silver chain around his neck, saying something you can’t quite hear. The other laughs louder and presses closer, her hand brushing his arm.

Something ugly twists in your stomach. Not jealousy — you barely know him. Just… a sharp reminder that while you’re still raw and untouched and questioning everything about yourself, some people live easy lives full of attention. Rich, spoiled, motorcycle-riding Jay probably has girls like that showing up whenever he wants. Of course he does. He’s gorgeous, mysterious, and clearly loaded.

You try to slip past quietly, but one of your plastic bags rustles loudly.

All three heads turn.

Jay’s dark eyes lock on you immediately. The easy vibe from a second ago vanishes — his jaw tightens, expression shifting back to that unreadable mask. The two girls glance at you, one raising a perfectly shaped brow like she’s sizing up competition.

You feel your face burn. “Sorry,” you mumble, hurrying toward your door. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re the new neighbor, right?” the girl with the wavy hair calls out, voice sugary sweet but with an edge. “Jay-oppa mentioned someone moved in. You settling in okay?”

Oppa. The word stings more than it should.

“Yeah. Fine,” you say without turning around, fumbling with your key. Your hands are shaking a little. All you can think about is how desirable those girls look — confident, experienced, the kind of women men actually want to touch.

Behind you, Jay’s voice cuts through, low and firm. “Yuna. Stop.”

The girl pouts dramatically. “What? I’m being nice!”

You finally get your door open and practically dive inside, but not before catching Jay’s gaze one more time. There’s something in it — annoyance at the girls? Or maybe just… concern? You can’t tell. The door clicks shut behind you and you lean against it, heart pounding stupidly.

A few minutes later, there’s a soft knock.

You already know who it is.

When you open the door a crack, Jay is standing there alone. The girls are gone — you hear their heels clicking down the stairs and the faint sound of the elevator. He’s holding a small takeout container of what smells like warm tteokbokki.

“Those weren’t… anything,” he says bluntly, rubbing the back of his neck. He looks almost uncomfortable, like explaining himself is new territory. “Just some old friends from my dad’s business circle. They showed up uninvited. Happens sometimes when they know I’m back in Seoul.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to play it cool even though your insides feel twisted. “You don’t have to explain. It’s your place. Your… friends.”

He studies you for a long moment, eyes flicking over your tired face, the oversized hoodie you’re hiding in, the way you’re clutching the door like a shield. “You looked upset.”

“I wasn’t,” you lie quickly. Too quickly.

Jay doesn’t buy it. He sighs, the sound heavy, and holds out the tteokbokki. “Here. They brought too much. I don’t like wasting food.”

You hesitate, then take it. Your fingers brush his again — that same warm spark. This time you notice how his hand lingers just a second longer than necessary.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

He nods once, then glances back at his now-empty apartment. “They’re loud. Annoying. Not really my type.” The words come out flat, like he’s stating a fact rather than reassuring you. But there’s a softness underneath, the same one that showed up with the candles and ramen.

You swallow hard, the insecurity from your breakup rising again. Not his type? What even is his type? Definitely not the crying virgin next door who can’t even unpack without falling apart.

Before you can spiral further, Jay adds quietly, “If noise bothers you later… knock. I’ll tell them to leave next time.”

Your chest tightens. He’s being kind again. The “scary” spoiled brat who never smiles is standing in the hallway offering you food and quiet like it’s nothing.

“I will,” you say softly. “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Night, Y/N.”

He waits until you close your door before going back to his own.

Inside, you sit on the floor with the warm tteokbokki, the spicy scent filling your small apartment. Across the hall, you hear faint music start — something low and calm, not the kind of playlist you’d expect from a guy with girls like that hanging off him.

You eat slowly, replaying the way his eyes had softened when he looked at you. The way he shut down the girl’s teasing. The way he didn’t want you to think those girls meant something.

It’s stupid. Dangerous, even. You’re still healing from a breakup that left your self-worth in pieces. You’re not ready to feel butterflies over a rich boy with a motorcycle and a secret soft side.

But as you finish the food he gave you, you can’t deny the small, warm spark in your chest.

Maybe the ice prince isn’t as cold as everyone thinks.

And maybe you’re starting to wonder what it would feel like if he looked at you the way those girls wanted him to.

The days after the hallway incident with those girls stretch into a strange kind of routine. You keep to yourself — job applications during the day, quiet evenings spent replaying your breakup like a bad movie you can't turn off. The insecurity sits heavy in your chest: two years of waiting, of feeling like something was wrong with your body, your touch, your everything. Your ex never once looked at you with real hunger. And now? You're still untouched, still wondering if anyone ever will.

You tell yourself Jay is just a neighbor. Nothing more. The tteokbokki he gave you was a one-off kindness. The way his eyes lingered that night meant nothing.

But the building feels smaller every time you hear his motorcycle.

Tonight, it's past midnight when the low, familiar rumble cuts through the quiet. You’re lying on your mattress (still no proper bed frame), scrolling mindlessly on your phone, when the engine growls into the parking lot below. You shouldn’t look. You really shouldn’t.

Yet you find yourself at the window, peeking through the blinds.

Jay kills the engine and swings off the bike with that effortless grace that makes your stomach flip despite yourself. He’s in all black again — leather jacket open over a fitted shirt, hair wind-swept and slightly damp from the night air. He looks tired. The usual sharp mask is cracked just enough that you catch him running a hand through his hair and letting out a long breath, like the weight of whatever “spoiled brat” life he leads is pressing down tonight.

He glances up toward the building — toward your floor — and you duck back quickly, heart hammering. Stupid. He can’t see you.

A few minutes later, footsteps echo in the hallway. Then… a soft knock on your door.

You freeze. It’s way too late for this.

Another knock, patient but firm.

You pad over in your oversized sleep shirt and shorts, cracking the door just enough to see him. Jay stands there, helmet tucked under one arm, a small plastic bag from the 24-hour convenience store in his other hand. Up close, he smells faintly of night air, leather, and something warm like coffee.

“Did I wake you?” His voice is lower than usual, a little rough from the ride.

You shake your head. “Couldn’t sleep anyway.”

He studies you for a beat — eyes flicking over your tired face, the way you’re hugging the door like armor. “Same.” He lifts the bag slightly. “Bought too much coffee and those honey butter chips. Figured if you were up… maybe you’d want some. Or not. No pressure.”

It’s such a small offer, but it feels bigger in the quiet hallway. No girls this time. No cocky attitude. Just Jay, looking almost unsure for once, like handing out late-night snacks isn’t something the “ice prince” does often.

You hesitate, then step aside and let him in. The apartment is still half-unpacked — boxes in corners, your mattress on the floor with a single blanket. Embarrassment heats your cheeks, but Jay doesn’t comment. He just sets the bag on your tiny kitchen counter and pulls out two cans of warm canned coffee and the chips.

You both end up sitting on the floor, backs against the wall, sharing the snacks in comfortable silence at first. The coffee is sweet and comforting. The chips crunch loudly between you.

After a while, he speaks. “Those girls the other night… they’re connected to my dad’s company stuff. Events, networking. They think showing up with soju makes them memorable.” He pauses, cracking open his can. “I don’t bring people here usually. Too loud. Too much.”

You nod, picking at a chip. The memory of their flirty laughter still stings a little, reminding you how confident and experienced they seemed. Everything you’re not. “As I said, Jay. You don’t have to explain. It’s your life.”

“Yeah, but…” He glances sideways at you. “You looked like it bothered you then. Didn’t want you thinking I’m some asshole who has random girls over every night.”

The admission hangs there. Your heart does that stupid flutter again. You swallow hard, the breakup feelings rising uninvited. “It’s not that. I’m just… dealing with my own mess. Bad breakup. Really bad. Makes everything feel… complicated.”

Jay doesn’t push for details. He just listens, dark eyes steady on the floor. “People suck at communicating what they really want sometimes,” he says quietly. There’s a weight to his words, like he’s speaking from experience too. “Doesn’t mean it’s on you.”

You let out a shaky laugh, the kind that doesn’t reach your eyes. “Feels like it is. When someone you trusted for years finally admits they were never… attracted. Not really. Not in the way that matters.” The virginity part stays locked inside — too raw, too embarrassing to say out loud to the hot neighbor who probably has experience in spades.

Jay’s jaw tightens slightly. He sets his coffee down and turns toward you more fully. “Then he was an idiot. Simple as that.”

The bluntness surprises a real, soft laugh out of you. For a moment, the tension eases. Jay’s mouth twitches again — that almost-smile you’re starting to crave seeing.

The conversation drifts lighter after that. He tells you a little about the motorcycle — how his dad bought it as some over-the-top gift when he turned twenty, thinking it would make him “act like a proper heir.” Jay rides it because it clears his head, not because he’s trying to look cool. You share surface-level stuff: the job hunt, how the apartment still feels too empty.

When the snacks are gone, he stands to leave, stretching slightly. His shirt rides up just enough to show a sliver of toned skin and the edge of what looks like a small tattoo on his hip. You look away fast, cheeks warming.

At the door, he pauses. “If the power goes out again or you can’t sleep… you can knock. I’m usually up late anyway. No noise. Just… me and maybe some ramen.”

You nod, throat tight. “Thanks, Jay. Really.”

He lingers a second longer than necessary, eyes meeting yours in the dim hallway light. Something unspoken passes between you — curiosity, warmth, the slow crackle of tension that neither of you is ready to name.

Then he’s gone, door clicking shut across the hall.

You lie back on your mattress, the faint scent of his leather jacket still lingering in the air. The motorcycle guy isn’t just scary or spoiled. He’s thoughtful in the quiet ways that matter. And for the first time since the breakup, the ache in your chest feels a tiny bit lighter.

But you’re not ready. Not for the butterflies. Not for wondering what it would feel like if those calloused hands touched you the way no one ever has.

Still… the sound of his engine at midnight doesn’t feel so lonely anymore.

It’s been almost two weeks since you moved in, and the ache from the breakup has settled into a dull, constant hum rather than sharp stabbing pain. You still catch yourself spiraling some nights.

You try to focus on small wins: a couple of job interviews lined up, the apartment slowly looking less like a disaster zone. Jay has become a quiet fixture in your days. Small nods in the hallway. The occasional late-night knock with snacks or coffee when he hears your light still on. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to make the building feel less empty.

Tonight, the sky opens up without warning. Rain slams against the windows in sheets, thunder cracking loud enough to rattle the old pipes. You’re halfway through folding laundry when the power flickers once, twice, then dies completely. The building plunges into darkness except for the faint emergency lights in the hallway.

You sigh, grabbing your phone flashlight. The last time this happened, Jay showed up with candles and ramen. This time, you’re determined not to be the pathetic new girl again. But as minutes tick by and the storm only gets worse, the silence starts pressing in. Your mind wanders back to your ex’s gentle rejection, the way he never once looked at you with heat in his eyes.

A soft knock echoes through your dark apartment.

You already know who it is before you open the door.

Jay stands in the hallway, lit only by the dim emergency bulb. He’s holding a couple of candles and a small portable lantern, hair slightly damp like he just came in from checking something outside. Black hoodie, black sweatpants — the usual uniform that somehow looks expensive and effortless on him.

“Power’s out again,” he says, voice low. “Whole floor this time. Landlord texted — might be a few hours.”

You nod, trying not to stare at the way the lantern light casts shadows across his sharp jaw. “Yeah… figured.”

He shifts his weight, almost hesitant. “My place has the generator. It’s not fancy, but it’s warm and there’s light. You can wait it out there if you want. Or I can just leave the lantern.”

The offer hangs between you. Part of you wants to say no — to keep the careful distance you’ve been maintaining so you don’t catch feelings for the rich boy with the motorcycle. But the thought of sitting alone in the dark with your breakup thoughts feels worse.

“…Okay,” you say quietly. “Thank you.”

He leads you across the hall. His apartment is surprisingly neat for someone labeled a spoiled brat: minimalist furniture, a large window overlooking the city, a sleek kitchen that looks barely used. The generator hums softly in the background, keeping a couple of lamps and the fridge running. It smells faintly like his cologne — woodsy and clean.

You sit on the edge of his couch while he sets the lantern down and lights the candles for extra warmth. He disappears into the kitchen for a minute and returns with two mugs of instant hot chocolate (the fancy kind with real chocolate chunks, of course).

“Perks of having a dad who overcompensates with deliveries,” he mutters, handing you one. There’s that self-deprecating tone again, like he’s embarrassed by the wealth.

You take the mug, fingers brushing his. The contact sends a small spark up your arm that you immediately ignore. “It’s good. Thanks.”

Silence settles, comfortable but charged. Rain lashes the windows. Thunder rolls. You sip the hot chocolate and glance around — no photos of family, no flashy decorations. Just a couple of books on motorcycles and business, and a guitar leaning in the corner you hadn’t noticed before.

Jay sits on the armchair across from you, elbows on his knees, watching the storm. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he says suddenly. Not accusing. Just observant. “Still thinking about that breakup?”

You swallow, the warm mug grounding you. “Yeah. It’s stupid. It’s been weeks, but… it messes with your head. When someone you loved tells you they were never really attracted to you. Makes you question everything about yourself.”

Jay’s eyes flick to yours, dark and steady. He doesn’t offer empty platitudes. Instead, he says, “Sounds like he had his own shit to figure out and dragged you through it. Doesn’t make you any less… you.”

The words land softly, but they hit deep. Your cheeks warm. You look down at your mug. “Easy to say when you have girls showing up at your door looking like models.”

He lets out a short, humorless laugh. “Those girls don’t see me. They see the last name and the bike and the money. Half the time I feel like a walking trust fund.” He pauses, then adds quieter, “You’re the first person in this building who looked at me like I was just… a guy. Even when I was being an ass with the ramen that first night.”

Your heart stutters. The air feels thicker suddenly. You set the mug down, nerves buzzing. “I should probably head back soon. The power might come back.”

Jay stands at the same time you do. “Wait.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking unusually unsure for the cool, untouchable neighbor. “The rain’s not letting up, and it’s dark as hell out there. I can give you a ride tomorrow morning if you have anywhere to be. On the bike. It’s faster than waiting for the bus in this weather.”

Your eyes widen. A motorcycle ride? With him? The idea sends a mix of fear and unexpected thrill through you. “I… I’ve never been on one before.”

He gives the smallest, softest almost-smile you’ve seen yet — the corner of his mouth lifting just enough to make your stomach flip. “I’ll go slow. Promise. Helmet’s extra. You’ll be safe.”

You hesitate, insecurity whispering that you’re not the kind of girl who rides motorcycles with hot neighbors. But the way he’s looking at you — patient, gentle under the sharp exterior — makes the yes slip out before you can overthink.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Tomorrow morning.”

He walks you back to your door, lantern in hand, waiting until you’re safely inside. As you close the door, you lean against it, pulse racing.

A motorcycle ride with Jay. The spoiled rich boy who’s slowly showing you his soft center. The one who makes late-night snacks feel like dates and listens without judgment.

You’re not ready for anything more. Not when your body still feels like a question mark and your heart is still healing.

But for the first time, the idea of getting closer doesn’t feel terrifying.

It feels like the start of something warm in the middle of the storm.

The next morning arrives gray and damp, but the rain has eased into a light drizzle. You stand in front of your mirror longer than usual, staring at your reflection in simple jeans, a cozy sweater, and your hair tied back loosely. Your heart is doing ridiculous things — fluttering, then sinking, then fluttering again.

It’s just a ride to the bus stop. Nothing more.

Still, the memory of Jay’s quiet “I’ll go slow. Promise.” keeps replaying. No one has ever offered you something so simple yet so intimate. Your ex never did anything like this. He was safe, gentle, careful… and ultimately not attracted to you at all. That truth still stings every time you think about being touched, about someone wanting you in that raw, physical way. You’re still a virgin carrying that quiet shame, and the idea of pressing close to Jay on a motorcycle feels both terrifying and electric.

A knock on your door pulls you out of the spiral.

Jay is waiting in the hallway, two helmets in hand — one sleek black for him, a smaller one with a clear visor for you. He’s in his usual black: fitted shirt under a leather jacket that looks soft from wear, dark jeans, boots. His hair is slightly messy, and there’s a faint scent of rain and clean cologne clinging to him.

“Ready?” he asks, voice low and steady. His eyes scan your face like he can sense your nerves. “If you changed your mind, it’s fine. I can just walk you down.”

You shake your head, swallowing hard. “No… let’s do it.”

He leads you downstairs to the parking lot where the matte-black motorcycle waits like a sleeping beast. Jay swings a leg over first, settling in with natural ease, then holds out a hand to help you on. His palm is warm and calloused — the same touch that’s lingered in your mind since the candle night.

“Hold onto my waist or shoulders,” he says quietly, handing you the helmet. “Lean with me on turns, but not too much. I’ve got you.”

Your cheeks burn as you climb on behind him. The seat is narrower than you expected. There’s no space that doesn’t put you close. You hesitate for a second, then slide your arms around his waist, hands resting lightly over the leather jacket. Even through the layers, you feel the firmness of his body, the steady warmth radiating from him. Your heart slams against your ribs.

Jay starts the engine. The low rumble vibrates through both of you. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you manage, voice muffled by the helmet.

He takes off slowly, just like he promised. The motorcycle glides out of the lot and onto the wet street. Wind rushes past, cool and fresh, carrying the scent of rain on pavement. At first you’re stiff, gripping his jacket like a lifeline. But as the ride smooths out and Jay keeps his speed gentle, something shifts.

You start to relax. Your chest presses lightly against his back with every small movement. The world blurs by — blurred buildings, wet trees, the occasional car. For the first time in weeks, your mind quiets. There’s only the roar of the engine, the steady beat of Jay’s breathing you can somehow feel, and the solid presence of him in front of you.

He doesn’t speed up or show off. He drives like he’s protecting something fragile. When he leans into a gentle turn, you instinctively follow, arms tightening around his waist without thinking. The contact sends a warm spark through your whole body — not just fear, but something softer. Something that feels dangerously like the start of liking.

At a red light, he tilts his head slightly toward you. “Still okay back there?”

Your voice comes out softer than intended. “Yeah… it’s nice.”

The corner of his mouth lifts under his helmet — you can’t see it, but you swear you feel the shift in his posture, like he’s pleased.

The ride ends too soon. He pulls up smoothly in front of the café where you have your morning interview prep planned. You slide off the bike on shaky legs, handing him the helmet. Your hands brush again, lingering a beat longer than necessary.

Jay kills the engine and looks at you, dark eyes searching your face. The drizzle has left tiny droplets on his hair and lashes. “How was it?”

“Better than the bus,” you admit, a small smile breaking through. “Thank you. Really. I… I liked it.”

Something flickers in his gaze — warm, almost surprised. He rubs the back of his neck, the same shy gesture you’ve seen when he brings snacks. “Anytime. Just knock if you need a ride. Or if the power goes out again. Or… just if you want company.”

The words hang there, simple but heavy with unspoken meaning. Your stomach flips. This is the spoiled rich boy everyone warns about? The one who never smiles? Yet here he is, offering rides and quiet company like it’s the most natural thing.

You nod, biting your lip. “I will.”

He doesn’t drive off right away. He waits until you’re safely inside the café, watching through the window as you find a seat. Only then does the motorcycle rumble back to life and fade into the distance.

All through your interview prep, you can’t stop thinking about it: the warmth of his back against your chest, the way his body felt solid and safe under your hands, the gentle way he drove just for you. The quiet way he listened to your breakup pain without judgment. The way he makes the “scary” label feel like a lie.

By the time you head home that evening, the liking has started. It’s small, fragile, and terrifying — butterflies mixed with the old fear that you’re not enough, that your inexperience will scare him away if he ever gets close.

But when you step into the hallway later and hear his door open at the same time as yours, when your eyes meet and he gives that tiny almost-smile again, you know it’s already too late to stop it.

You’re starting to like Park Jongseong. The motorcycle neighbor. The quiet rich boy with the soft center. The one who makes storms feel warmer.

And for the first time since the breakup, that thought doesn’t make you want to run. It makes you want to stay.

The liking has turned into something you can no longer ignore.

It’s been a few days since the motorcycle ride, and every small interaction with Jay now carries extra weight. A nod in the hallway feels loaded. The way he sometimes leaves a coffee outside your door when he knows you have an early interview feels like care. You catch yourself replaying the feeling of your arms around his waist, the solid heat of his back, the low rumble of his voice asking if you were okay. The butterflies are getting louder, but so is the old fear: What if he finds out I’m still a virgin because my ex never wanted me that way? What if I’m not enough again?

You’re trying to take it slow. One ride at a time. One late-night snack at a time.

Then the text comes from the building’s group chat (the one the landlord forced everyone into).

Mrs. Kim (3rd floor, end unit): “Small housewarming + birthday party at my place tonight! 8 PM. Bring drinks or snacks if you want~ Everyone on this floor is invited! No excuses 😊”

Mrs. Kim is the friendly middle-aged lady who always chats with everyone — the mutual neighbor who knows everyone’s business. She’s harmless, loud, and loves bringing people together. You’ve only spoken to her twice, but she already calls you “sweetie.”

You stare at the message, chewing your lip. A party means people. Noise. Alcohol. And most likely… Jay.

Part of you wants to hide in your apartment with ramen and a drama. The other part — the one that’s been quietly liking the boy across the hall — wonders what Jay looks like in a party setting. Whether he’ll be the cold ice prince or show that secret soft side again.

At 8:15 PM you finally decide to go. You wear something simple but cute: a soft black sweater that slips off one shoulder, jeans, and light makeup to hide the lingering tiredness in your eyes. You bring a cheap bottle of soju and some chips as your contribution.

Mrs. Kim’s apartment is already buzzing when you arrive. Music plays at a decent volume — old K-pop mixed with trot. There are about fifteen people crammed into her living room: a few other neighbors, some of her friends from the neighborhood, and a couple of younger faces you don’t recognize. The lights are warm, fairy lights strung across the ceiling, and the coffee table is covered in food and drinks.

Mrs. Kim spots you immediately and pulls you into a hug. “Y/N sweetie! You came! Come, come — meet everyone!”

She introduces you around. You smile politely, making small talk, but your eyes keep drifting to the door.

Then Jay walks in.

He’s in all black, of course — black button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing the faint lines of tattoos on his forearms, black pants that fit too well. His hair is styled back slightly, silver chain glinting at his neck. He looks expensive and effortlessly handsome, the kind of guy who makes the room feel smaller just by entering.

But he doesn’t look comfortable. His shoulders are tense, jaw set in that familiar unreadable mask. He greets Mrs. Kim with a respectful bow and a quiet “Happy birthday, auntie,” then scans the room. When his eyes land on you, something shifts — the tension eases just a fraction. He gives you the smallest nod, that almost-smile tugging at his lips.

Your heart stutters.

The party moves on. People chat, drink, play silly games. You stick mostly to the corner with a cup of watered-down soju, watching from afar. Jay stays on the opposite side, politely turning down shots from some of the older men who seem to know his father. A couple of girls from the building (not the same ones from before) try to talk to him — laughing a little too loud, touching his arm. He remains civil but distant, excusing himself after a few minutes each time.

You’re on your second cup when Mrs. Kim claps her hands. “Okay okay! Truth or dare time for the young people! Come on, don’t be boring!”

A small circle forms on the floor. Somehow you get pulled in. Somehow Jay ends up sitting directly across from you.

The game starts light — silly questions, funny dares. When it’s your turn, someone asks, “Y/N, what’s one thing you’re scared of right now?”

You hesitate, the soju making your tongue looser than usual. Your eyes flick to Jay for a split second before you answer softly, “Getting close to someone again… and realizing I’m not what they want.”

The circle goes “aww” sympathetically. Jay’s gaze stays locked on you, dark and unreadable, but his fingers tighten slightly around his cup.

Later, it’s Jay’s turn. One of the girls dares him: “Kiss the person you think is the prettiest in this room.”

The group whoops. Jay doesn’t even glance at the giggling girls. He just looks straight at you, calm and serious.

“I pass,” he says flatly.

Groans and teasing erupt. The girl pouts. “Why? Too shy?”

“Because some things shouldn’t be a dare,” he replies quietly, eyes still on you. “They should mean something.”

Your breath catches. Heat floods your face. The liking surges — warm, undeniable, terrifying. He’s not playing the game. He’s not showing off. He’s just… Jay. The one who brings candles in storms and drives slow on his motorcycle so you feel safe.

The game continues, but the air between you two has changed. Every time your eyes meet across the circle, the tension crackles. When the party starts winding down around 11 PM, Mrs. Kim is tipsy and hugging everyone goodbye.

You slip out into the hallway first, the cool air a relief after the warm, noisy room. You’re almost at your door when you hear footsteps behind you.

Jay.

He stops a respectful distance away, hands in his pockets. The hallway light casts soft shadows on his face. “You okay?” he asks, voice low. “You got quiet after that question.”

You turn to face him, leaning against your door. The soju has given you just enough courage. “Yeah. Just… thinking. About what I said.”

He steps a little closer. “For what it’s worth… whoever made you feel like you’re not enough was wrong.” His eyes are intense but gentle. “You are.”

The words land straight in your chest. Your heart races. This is the start of liking turning into something deeper — the moment where you realize you don’t just like the idea of him. You like him. The quiet sweetness hidden under the motorcycle and black clothes. The way he sees you when no one else does.

“I… thank you,” you whisper. “You’re not what people say you are, you know. The spoiled brat who never smiles.”

A real, small smile breaks across his face this time — crooked, boyish, devastating. “Maybe I just didn’t have a reason to smile before.”

The hallway feels too small. The space between you charged with everything unsaid. You want to step closer. You want to tell him about the virginity, the insecurity, the way your body still feels uncertain. But it’s too soon. Too raw.

Instead, you say softly, “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He waits until you’re safely inside before going to his own door.

You lean against the wood, pressing a hand to your racing heart.

The liking has officially started. And it’s growing faster than you’re ready for.

Across the hall, the boy with the motorcycle is probably doing the same thing — wondering how the quiet new neighbor managed to crack through his walls so easily.

After Mrs. Kim’s party, the air between you and Jay feels different — heavier with possibility, softer with stolen glances and lingering goodnights in the hallway. You still haven’t told him the full truth about your breakup, about still being a virgin because your ex could never desire you the way a man should. That fear sits like a stone in your chest every time the butterflies get too loud. But Jay makes the fear quieter. His small smiles, the way he waits for you to feel safe, the motorcycle rides that have become more frequent… they’re slowly stitching pieces of you back together.

Then the new invitation comes.

This time it’s not from sweet Mrs. Kim.

It’s from Sunghoon — one of Jay’s close friends who lives two floors up. You’ve seen him around the building a couple of times: tall, sharp-featured, always with a quiet smirk. Apparently he and Jay went to the same elite high school and their families run in the same circles. Sunghoon is throwing a small “just because” gathering at his place tonight — mostly guys, a few girls, good music, and drinks. Jay mentioned it casually when he dropped you off from a morning ride yesterday.

“You should come,” he’d said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’ll be chill. Sunghoon’s not as loud as he looks. And… I’d like you there.”

How could you say no?

You arrive at 9 PM, nerves buzzing. Sunghoon’s apartment is bigger and more modern than yours or Jay’s — sleek furniture, huge TV playing music videos, bottles of soju and beer neatly arranged on the kitchen island. There are about twelve people total: mostly guys Jay’s age, laughing and playing games on the couch, and a couple of girls who seem to be friends with the group.

Jay is already there when you walk in.

He’s leaning against the kitchen counter in black (always black), sleeves rolled up, silver chain catching the low lights. The moment he sees you, his entire posture relaxes. That tiny, crooked smile appears — the one that’s becoming your favorite thing in the world.

“You came,” he says quietly, pushing off the counter to meet you halfway. His hand brushes your arm lightly, guiding you toward the group. “Come on. I’ll introduce you.”

Sunghoon spots you first and grins, raising a soju bottle in greeting. “Ah, the famous new neighbor! Jay’s been talking about you. Welcome — make yourself at home.”

The guys are friendly in a loud, chaotic way. They pull you into their circle easily, asking light questions about where you moved from and what you do. Jay stays close the whole time, never crowding but always within reach. When someone offers you a strong drink, he quietly swaps it for a milder one without saying anything.

But the real shift happens an hour in.

The group starts playing a drinking game — “Never Have I Ever.” The questions start innocent, then get bolder.

Sunghoon, tipsy and smirking, leans forward. “Never have I ever… been in love with someone who didn’t want me back the same way.”

A couple of the guys drink. You hesitate, then slowly lift your cup and take a sip. The memory of your ex hits again — the gentle rejection, the years of wondering why he never touched you, why you still feel untouched and uncertain about your own body.

Jay’s eyes find yours immediately. He doesn’t drink. Instead, he watches you with that steady, protective gaze that makes your heart ache in the best way.

Later, when the game moves to truth, Sunghoon points at Jay. “Your turn, man. Truth: what’s something you’ve been wanting to do lately but haven’t had the guts for?”

The room goes quiet, everyone waiting. Jay rubs the back of his neck, the same shy habit you’ve grown to love. His dark eyes flick to you, then back to the group.

“I’ve been wanting to tell the girl who lives across the hall that I like her,” he says, voice low but clear. “That she makes this stupid building feel less empty. That I like how she looks at me like I’m just Jay… not the rich kid with the bike and the dad’s money.”

The room erupts in cheers and teasing whistles. Sunghoon claps Jay on the back, laughing. But Jay only looks at you — calm, serious, a little vulnerable under the sharp jaw and tattoos.

Your face burns. The liking explodes into something warmer, scarier, sweeter. You feel exposed and seen at the same time.

When the party starts thinning out around midnight, Jay walks you down to your floor. The hallway is quiet again, just the two of you under the soft lights. He stops in front of your door, hands in his pockets, looking at you like he’s been holding back for weeks.

“I meant what I said up there,” he says softly.

You look up at him confused.

He clears his throat, holding you hand before he speaks up,“I like you, Y/N. A lot. I know you’re still healing from that breakup. I know you’re scared. I’m not rushing anything. But… I want to be the guy who makes you feel wanted. The right way.”

Tears prick your eyes. The weight of your virginity, the insecurity that your ex never desired you — it all feels a little lighter with Jay standing here, offering patience instead of pressure.

You step closer, heart pounding. “I like you too, Jay. I’ve been starting to for a while now. The motorcycle rides… the late-night snacks… the way you’re sweet when no one’s watching. It scares me a little, but I like it.”

He lets out a relieved breath, the corner of his mouth lifting into that beautiful almost-smile that’s now fully a smile when it’s just for you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, neither of you moves. Then Jay gently reaches out, his calloused fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. The touch is feather-light, full of care. He leans in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away.

You don’t.

The kiss is soft — tentative at first, then warmer as you both relax into it. His lips are gentle, tasting faintly of soju and the honey butter chips he always shares with you. One hand cups your cheek, the other stays respectfully at your waist. There’s no rush, no demand. Just Jay kissing you like you’re something precious he’s been waiting to hold.

When you pull back, breathless and smiling, he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers. “Whenever you’re ready… for anything… we’ll go slow. Like the motorcycle. Okay?”

You nod, tears of relief mixing with happiness. “Okay.”

He kisses your forehead, then steps back with that soft, boyish grin. “Goodnight, neighbor.”

“Goodnight, Jay.”

As you close your door, you lean against it, heart full and light at the same time. The boy with the motorcycle — the one everyone called a spoiled brat who never smiles — has become the sweetest part of your new beginning.

Across the hall, you hear his door click shut, and for the first time since moving in, the building doesn’t feel lonely.

It feels like home.

It’s been five days since the kiss in the hallway.

Five days of shy smiles when you pass each other in the morning, five days of Jay leaving coffee at your door before he rides off, five days of late-night texts that make your stomach flip. The liking has bloomed into something warmer, but you still haven’t told him everything. The lunch conversation at work keeps replaying in your head like a bad loop.

Today was especially rough.

During the team lunch, the same group of coworkers started the conversation again — louder this time. “Seriously, staying a virgin past twenty is just sad at this point,” one girl laughed. “It’s like you’re holding onto some fairy-tale idea. Just rip the band-aid off.” Everyone nodded and joked about it. You forced a laugh and changed the subject, but the words stuck like thorns. By the time you got home, the frustration and shame had built into a heavy knot in your chest.

You’re barely out of your work clothes (now in an oversized hoodie and shorts) when there’s a familiar knock on your door — three soft taps.

Jay.

You open it and he’s standing there in his usual black hoodie and jeans, motorcycle helmet still in one hand, hair slightly messy from the ride. The moment he sees your face, his expression shifts from soft to concerned.

“Hey… you okay? You look like something’s wrong.”

You step aside to let him in. He sets the helmet down and follows you to the small couch area. The rain is starting again outside — light but steady, the same sound that always seems to pull you two closer.

You sit down, knees pulled to your chest. Jay sits beside you, close but not crowding, waiting patiently like he always does.

“I need to tell you something,” you say quietly, voice already shaky. “About my breakup… and about me.”

He nods, dark eyes steady on yours. “I’m listening.”

You take a deep breath and let it all spill out.

“My ex and I were together for two years. He was sweet — held my hand, cuddled me, said he loved me. But he never wanted to have sex with me. Not once. I spent so long thinking there was something wrong with my body, that I wasn’t attractive enough, that I was doing everything wrong. Turns out he’s gay. He was trying to force himself to be straight for me, for his family… for everything. So I’m still a virgin. And today at lunch, everyone was talking about how stupid and pathetic it is to still be a virgin at my age. They were laughing about it like it’s something to be embarrassed about. It made me feel… broken. Frustrated. Like I’m the only one who’s still waiting and it’s my fault.”

Tears slip down your cheeks by the time you finish. You wipe them away angrily. “I like you, Jay. A lot. The kiss the other night… it felt right. But this frustration has been building and I don’t know how to deal with it anymore. I want to feel wanted. I want to feel normal. I want… you. But I’m scared I’ll disappoint you or that it’ll hurt or that I won’t know what to do.”

The silence after your confession is gentle. Jay doesn’t interrupt. He just reaches out and takes your hand, thumb stroking slowly over your knuckles.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low and steady, full of quiet anger at your ex and softness for you.

“There is nothing — nothing — wrong with you. Your ex hurt you because he couldn’t be honest with himself. That’s on him, not on your body or your worth.” He squeezes your hand. “Being a virgin doesn’t make you pathetic or stupid. It just means you haven’t found someone who deserves you yet. And if that someone is me… I’m honored. Not disappointed.”

He shifts closer, cupping your face with both hands so you have to look at him. “I want you too. So much. But only when you’re ready. We can stop anytime. I’ll go slow. I’ll talk you through it. You tell me what feels good and what doesn’t. Okay?”

You nod, the knot in your chest loosening. “I’m ready now. I trust you.”

Jay kisses you then — slow and deep, pouring reassurance into every brush of his lips. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you gently into his lap so you’re straddling him. The kiss grows hotter, tongues meeting, breaths quickening. You can already feel him hardening beneath you through his jeans.

He breaks the kiss just enough to murmur against your mouth, “Bed?”

You nod.

He lifts you easily and carries you to the mattress on the floor, laying you down like you’re something fragile and precious. Clothes come off slowly, piece by piece. He kisses every new inch of skin he reveals — your neck, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. When he takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks gently, you arch with a soft moan.

“Jay…” you breathe.

He hums in response, hand sliding between your legs. His fingers find you already wet and he groans quietly. “So wet for me already. Good girl.”

He circles your clit with slow, perfect pressure, then slips one finger inside you, then two, scissoring gently to stretch you. You’re gasping, hips rocking against his hand as pleasure builds fast and hot. He watches your face the entire time, whispering praises — “So tight… so beautiful… taking my fingers so well.”

Your first orgasm hits you hard, thighs trembling around his wrist as you cry out his name.

Jay kisses you through it, then pulls back to roll on a condom. He settles between your thighs, cock heavy and flushed against your entrance.

“Eyes on me,” he says softly. “Breathe. If it hurts too much, tell me and I stop.”

You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He pushes in slowly — inch by careful inch. There’s a sharp burn at first, a stretching fullness that makes you wince and grip his shoulders. Jay freezes immediately, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. “I’ve got you. You’re doing so good, baby. Just relax for me.”

When the pain eases into a dull ache, you nod again. Jay starts moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips that turn discomfort into sparks of pleasure. The friction is intense, overwhelming in the best way. He angles his thrusts to hit that spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyes.

“Fuck… you feel incredible,” he groans, voice rough. One hand slips between you to rub your clit in tight circles. “Come for me again. I want to feel you.”

The second orgasm crashes over you harder than the first. Your walls clench around him, pulling a deep moan from Jay’s throat. He follows right after, hips stuttering as he comes with your name on his lips.

He stays inside you for a moment, breathing hard, then carefully pulls out and disposes of the condom. Immediately he pulls you into his arms, wrapping you up against his chest. His hand strokes your back in soothing circles while he presses soft kisses to your hair, your temple, your shoulder.

“You okay?” he whispers. “Any pain?”

“A little sore… but good. Really good.” You smile against his skin, the frustration from lunch completely gone. In its place is warmth, safety, and the feeling of finally being wanted — exactly as you are.

Jay chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

Outside, the rain continues. Inside, Jay holds you close, the boy with the motorcycle no longer across the hall but right here, skin against skin, heart against heart.

The start of something real.

@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

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𝔗𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 & 𝔗𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔩𝔢𝔡-nishimura riki

pairing: nishimura riki!ni-ki x reader genre: mafia's son x reader, dark romance, smut, angst warnings: dark romance, killing, threatening, explicit sexual content word count: 25.7k

The first time you saw Nishimura Riki, he was beating a guy half to death.

It was your very first hour on campus. The air was crisp with that early-autumn bite, leaves skittering across the wide stone paths like they were trying to escape.

You had arrived at the college with a plain, unremarkable past. You were from a middle-class family, had average high school grades, lived a quiet life where nothing dramatic had ever touched you.

No scandals, no secrets, just the simple desire for a fresh start at this elite private university your parents had somehow scraped together the funds to send you to.

You were ordinary. Invisible by choice. That was supposed to be your armor here.

But from the moment you stepped onto the main quad with your backpack slung over one shoulder, you felt the shift in the air.

Everyone knew Nishimura Riki.

He was the smallest in his group, yet somehow the most magnetic — and the most terrifying. Lean frame, sharp jawline, dark hair that always fell slightly into his eyes, and a way of moving that made people stop breathing. Every girl on campus had a crush on him. The whispers followed him like shadows.

“He’s so hot when he dances at parties,”

“Did you see his eyes up close?”

“I’d let him ruin me.”

They giggled behind their hands in the dorms, saved blurry photos from his rare social media posts, and dreamed about the day he might notice them.

But every single one of them was also deathly afraid of him.

Because Riki wasn’t just another pretty rich boy. He was the vicious maknae of ENHYPEN —the tight-knit crew of seven that ruled this university through fear and blood. Heeseung, the oldest and calculated leader. Jay with his sharp tongue and expensive watches. Jake, always smiling while he broke rules. Sunghoon, cold and elegant even when throwing punches. Sunoo and Jungwon, loyal and quick to join in. And Riki, the smallest in age, but the one who hit the hardest and smiled the least while doing it.

They were bullies in the rawest sense. Full punches that left bruises for weeks, split lips, broken noses, blood on the pavement. No one reported them. Professors looked away. Security pretended not to see. ENHYPEN owned the campus in all but name.

You knew none of this in detail on your first day. Until you turned the corner near the arts building and walked straight into violence.

Riki had a guy pinned against the rough brick wall, one hand twisted in the front of his shirt, the other already cocked back. The victim’s face was a ruined mess — eye swelling shut, lip split, nose gushing blood down his chin and onto his shirt. Each punch landed with brutal, practiced force. The sound was ugly. Wet. Final.

Riki didn’t shout. He didn’t rage. He spoke low and cold, voice carrying that faint rasp. “You really thought talking shit about me was smart?” Another punch cracked against the guy’s ribs. “Keep my name out of your pathetic mouth.”

The rest of ENHYPEN watched like it was routine.

Heeseung stood back, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Jay leaned against the wall checking his phone. Jake filmed with that lazy smirk. Sunghoon flicked his lighter. Sunoo and Jungwon hovered close, ready if needed.

You stopped. Not because you were frozen in fear — though fear was definitely there, sharp and cold in your chest — but because something stubborn flared up inside you. You weren’t the type to just stand there and swallow shit quietly. Plain past or not, you still had some self-respect. You weren’t going to bolt like the others, but you also weren’t stupid enough to play hero.

Still, your voice came out steadier than you expected.

“Hey.”

The single word cut through the alley. Riki’s fist paused mid-air. Slowly, he turned his head toward you. Dark eyes narrowed, the faint scar on his cheekbone catching the light. Blood dripped from his knuckles onto the stone.

“The fuck did you just say?” His tone was flat, dangerous. No surprise. Just pure annoyance that someone had dared interrupt.

You kept your chin up, heart pounding but refusing to drop your gaze completely. “I said hey. That’s enough. He’s already down.”

For a second, silence. Then Riki let out a short, humorless laugh — the kind that sent ice down your spine. He released the guy, who immediately slumped to the ground coughing and wheezing, and took two steps toward you. Close. Too close. The metallic smell of blood mixed with his cologne hit you hard.

“You got some balls, new girl,” he said, voice dripping with mockery and threat. “Or are you just that fucking stupid? This doesn’t concern you. Walk away before I decide to make it concern you.”

Your hands tightened on your backpack straps, but you didn’t back up. “Beating someone unconscious in broad daylight isn’t exactly subtle. Someone’s going to see.”

Riki’s eyes darkened. He tilted his head, studying you like you were a new, irritating bug. “And you think you’re the one who’s gonna do something about it?” He wiped his bloody knuckles on his hoodie, leaving a dark smear. “Cute. Real fucking cute. But let me make this clear since you’re new and apparently slow.”

He leaned in, voice dropping lower, meaner. “Eyes down. Mouth shut. You don’t talk to me. You don’t look at me. You don’t exist in my fucking world unless I say so. Got it?”

The rest of the crew was watching now. Heeseung raised an eyebrow, mildly amused. Jake’s grin widened.

You felt the heat of embarrassment and anger rise in your cheeks, but you forced yourself to hold his stare for one more second. “I’m not blind and I’m not mute. But fine. Message received.”

Riki’s jaw flexed. For a moment it looked like he might actually swing at you too. Instead, he straightened up, that cold, magnetic face twisting into a sneer. “Smart choice. Barely. Now get the hell out of my sight.”

He turned sharply and started walking. The others fell in behind him without question — a seamless pack. As they passed, Sunghoon gave you a long, appraising look. Heeseung just shook his head slightly, like he’d already filed you under “future problem.”

Only when they disappeared around the corner did you let out a shaky breath. Your legs felt unsteady. The guy on the ground was still groaning softly, trying to push himself up. You hesitated, then stepped forward and offered a hand to help him sit against the wall.

He looked up at you with one working eye, terrified. “You’re crazy… talking back to Riki like that. He’s gonna remember you now.”

You didn’t answer. Deep down, you already knew he was right.

You had wanted to stay invisible. But on your very first hour, you’d opened your mouth and painted a target on your back.

And Nishimura Riki — the one every girl crushed on and feared in equal measure — had just noticed you.

He had no clue his parents were actual mafia, running a dark empire of violence and power. They had sent him here, far away, to keep their youngest son untouched by their bloody world. Riki thought they were simply rich, distant executives who wanted him focused on college.

You knew none of that yet.

All you knew was that your plain, quiet armor had already cracked… and the most dangerous red flag on campus now had your name in his sights.

This fresh start was already twisting into something dangerous.

And you were tangled in it from minute one.

Lunchtime hit like a warning you ignored.

The cafeteria was packed — long tables, the smell of overpriced coffee and greasy food, students laughing too loud to cover the underlying tension whenever ENHYPEN was around. You kept your head down, tray in hand, determined to stay invisible after the morning’s disaster. Plain armor back on. No more opening your mouth.

You grabbed a large iced coffee — extra shot, no sugar — and turned to find a quiet corner table.

That was when it happened.

You were looking down at your phone, checking the campus map for your next class, when you collided straight into a hard chest.

The tray tilted.

The coffee cup flew.

Dark liquid exploded across a black hoodie in a massive splash — ice cubes scattering, cold coffee soaking through fabric and dripping onto expensive sneakers.

You looked up slowly.

Nishimura Riki stood there, frozen for half a second, coffee dripping from his chin, his hoodie ruined, dark stains spreading fast. His eyes — those same terrifying, magnetic eyes every girl crushed on — slowly lifted to meet yours.

Pure rage.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he hissed, voice low at first, then rising sharp enough to cut through the entire cafeteria. “Are you actually brain-dead?”

The entire room went dead silent. Trays stopped clattering. Conversations died. Hundreds of eyes turned toward the two of you.

You opened your mouth — that stubborn, self-respecting part of you refusing to just grovel. “It was an accident. I didn’t see—”

“Accident?” Riki’s voice cracked like a whip. He stepped forward, coffee still dripping from his clothes, fists clenched at his sides. The raw knuckles from the morning fight looked even angrier now. “You spill shit on me after already running your mouth this morning? You really want to die on your first day?”

Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jungwon materialized behind him like ghosts. The crew formed a wall. Jake was already smirking, phone half-raised. Sunghoon’s lighter clicked once.

Riki’s face twisted with pure, unfiltered fury. “This isn’t just coffee, you stupid bitch. This is you testing me again. Twice in one day.”

Your heart hammered. Fear spiked hard, but so did that bitchy spark of pride. You weren’t going to cry or beg in front of the whole cafeteria. Not yet.

“It was an accident,” you repeated, voice steady even though your hands shook. “I’ll buy you another hoodie or whatever. Calm down.”

Wrong words.

Riki laughed — cold, ugly, dangerous. “Calm down?” He took another step, voice loud enough for the entire cafeteria to hear. “Listen up, everyone!”

The room was already watching. Phones were out.

Riki pointed straight at you, coffee still dripping from his hair. “This new transfer bitch just spilled her shit all over me. After talking back this morning. She thinks she can keep fucking with ENHYPEN and walk away.”

He turned to the crowd, voice carrying like a king giving a decree. “Whoever brings her to me gets whatever the fuck they want. Money. Favors. Protection. I don’t care. Chase this stupid bitch down. Now.”

Gasps rippled through the cafeteria.

Then chaos.

Dozens of students — guys looking for favor with the crew, girls who were jealous or scared or both — started moving. Some laughed nervously. Others looked excited at the chance to impress Riki. Chairs scraped. Footsteps surged.

Riki’s dark eyes locked on you one last time, full of vicious promise. “Run, bitch. Run fast. Because when they catch you… I’m not gonna be nice anymore.”

You didn’t wait.

You dropped your tray with a clatter and bolted.

Out the side doors. Across the quad. Leaves flying under your feet. Behind you, the entire college seemed to explode into motion — shouts, laughter, footsteps pounding like a hunting party.

“Get her!”

“She’s heading toward the library!”

“Riki wants her!”

You ran harder than you ever had in your life, breath burning, backpack slapping against your back. The stupid coffee spill had just turned your first day into a campus-wide manhunt.

And leading it all was Nishimura Riki — the smallest, prettiest, most terrifying bully on campus — soaked in your coffee, eyes blazing with rage, ordering everyone to hunt you like an animal.

Your plain, quiet life was over.

You were the new target.

And you had just done the stupidest thing possible… twice.

The chase was on.

And there was nowhere safe left to hide.

You ran like hell.

The campus blurred around you — wide stone paths, scattered autumn leaves, students turning into a chaotic mob. Shouts echoed behind you like a pack of excited hyenas.

“Get the new girl!”

“She spilled on Riki — don’t let her escape!”

“Riki said anyone who catches her gets whatever they want!”

Your lungs burned. Your backpack slammed against your spine with every stride. You weren’t an athlete. You were the girl who spent high school with her nose in books, the one who avoided drama at all costs. Yet here you were, sprinting across the quad with half the college chasing you because of a damn iced coffee and one too many moments of opening your mouth.

You veered sharply left, dodging between buildings, trying to lose them in the narrower paths near the sports complex. Footsteps pounded closer. Someone grabbed at your backpack strap — you twisted free with a wild yank and kept going.

A dead end.

You skidded to a stop in a small courtyard behind the gym building. High walls on three sides, only one narrow entrance. No way out. The chasing crowd spilled in after you — twenty, thirty students now, faces flushed with adrenaline and the promise of rewards from ENHYPEN. Some were laughing. Some looked nervous. A few girls hung at the back, phones up, recording what they thought would be your humiliating takedown.

You were trapped.

Your chest heaved. Sweat stuck your hair to your forehead. That stubborn, self-respecting fire that had gotten you into this mess flared hotter than ever. You were tired of running. Tired of being the quiet, invisible good girl who let assholes walk all over her on day one.

Not today.

The first guy lunged at you — tall, cocky, clearly hoping to be the hero who delivered you to Riki. You remembered every dumb action movie you’d watched alone on weekends. Sloppy? Yes. Effective? You were about to find out.

You ducked under his grab, swung your backpack like a weapon, and smashed it into the side of his head. He stumbled. You followed with a hard slap across his face — loud, stinging, humiliating — then drove your knee up between his legs with everything you had.

He dropped like a sack of bricks, groaning and curling into a ball.

The crowd gasped.

“Oh shit—”

“She actually—”

You didn’t stop. Adrenaline flooded your veins. The good girl who had stayed silent for years was gone. Something feral took over.

Another two guys rushed you. You grabbed the first one’s wrist, twisted like you’d seen in movies, and bit down hard on the back of his hand. He screamed. You punched the second one square in the throat — not perfect, but enough to make him choke and stagger back.

A girl tried to grab your hair. You spun and slapped her so hard her head snapped sideways. “Don’t touch me!”

Chaos erupted in the little courtyard.

You moved like a cornered animal — sloppy, desperate, but vicious. Elbows, knees, open-handed slaps that left red marks, a well-placed kick to someone’s shin followed by a punch to the stomach. You bit another hand when it tried to pin you. You punched a guy in the groin when he got too close. Every move was messy, untrained, fueled by pure rage and months — years — of swallowing shit quietly.

One by one, they went down.

Some tripped over their own friends. Others backed off the moment they saw their buddies writhing on the ground. The ones still standing hesitated, eyes wide with shock. The recordings continued, but the laughter had died. Now it was just stunned silence mixed with pained groans.

By the time ENHYPEN finally pushed through the crowd, almost every person who had been chasing you was on the floor or leaning against the walls, holding bruised faces, bleeding lips, or sore groins.

You stood in the middle of it all, chest heaving, knuckles split and stinging, hair a wild mess. A thin scratch ran across your cheek. Your uniform was rumpled. But you were still standing.

Heeseung stopped at the front of the group. For the first time since you’d seen him, the calculated leader looked genuinely shocked. He started slow clapping — three deliberate claps that echoed in the courtyard.

“Damn,” he said, voice calm but laced with surprise. “Didn’t see that coming.”

The rest of ENHYPEN stared.

Jake’s smirk had faded into open disbelief. Sunghoon’s lighter had stopped clicking. Sunoo and Jungwon exchanged glances. Jay raised an eyebrow, almost impressed.

And Riki…

Riki stood at the center, coffee stains still dark on his ruined hoodie, dark hair slightly messy from the chase. His eyes were locked on you — no longer just rage, but something sharper. Darker. A mix of fury and unwilling fascination. The smallest in the crew, yet the most dangerous. The one every girl crushed on and feared.

He took one step forward. The remaining students who were still on their feet immediately stepped back, giving him space. No one wanted to be near whatever was about to happen.

You lifted your chin, breathing hard, that bitchy self-respect still burning bright even though your hands were shaking. You couldn’t believe what you’d just done. The good girl who never caused trouble had just dropped half the chasing mob in a sloppy, violent frenzy.

Riki’s voice came out low and rough, dripping with menace.

“You just made the biggest fucking mistake of your life.”

He cracked his bloody knuckles, the sound loud in the sudden quiet.

“But I’ll give you credit… no one’s ever made me chase them and then actually fight back like that.”

The air felt thick. Charged. Every eye in the courtyard was on the two of you.

You were no longer invisible.

You were the girl who spilled coffee on Nishimura Riki, talked back twice, and then took down half the campus in a dead-end courtyard with nothing but pure spite and bad action movie knowledge.

And the most terrifying red flag on campus was now looking at you like you were something he wanted to break… slowly.

The slowburn had officially ignited.

The next morning came too fast.

Your body ached in places you didn’t know could ache — bruised knuckles, sore shoulders from swinging your backpack like a weapon, a faint scratch still stinging on your cheek. You’d barely slept, replaying the chaotic courtyard fight in your head. The good girl who had lived quietly for years had snapped in the most public, violent way possible. Half the campus had watched. Phones had recorded. By now, the videos were probably everywhere.

You kept your head down as you walked to your locker before first period, trying to blend back into invisibility. It didn’t work. Students stared. Some whispered. A few even gave you a wide berth, like they weren’t sure if you were crazy or suicidal.

You opened your locker.

A small, folded piece of paper fell out and landed at your feet.

No name. No signature. Just plain white paper with neat handwriting:

“Nishimura Riki’s family doesn’t just have money. They run shady business. Real dangerous stuff. Be careful — you’re poking the wrong beast.”

You stared at the note, heart skipping. Shady business. The words sat heavy in your stomach. You’d already seen how vicious Riki could be. If his family was actually dangerous… what the hell had you gotten yourself into?

You crumpled the note quickly and shoved it into your pocket. Class was starting soon. You couldn’t afford to spiral.

The rest of the morning dragged. Every hallway felt longer. Every glance from other students felt heavier. You avoided the cafeteria completely, grabbing something from a vending machine instead. The whispers followed you anyway.

By afternoon, your last class of the day let out early. You were heading toward the library when a group of guys blocked your path — not random students this time. ENHYPEN.

They moved like they’d planned it.

Heeseung at the front, calm as ever. Jay and Jake flanking him. Sunghoon, Sunoo, and Jungwon closing the sides. And Riki — smallest in the group but walking with that lethal grace — right in the center, eyes already locked on you.

“No running today,” Riki said, voice low and sharp. “We’re done playing chase.”

Before you could react, they herded you smoothly across campus. Not rough enough to cause a scene in the open, but firm enough that resistance felt pointless. Students watched but didn’t interfere. They led you straight to the outdoor basketball court — the big one with tiered bleachers that could hold half the college.

And the bleachers were full.

Word had spread fast. Hundreds of students sat there, phones out, murmuring excitedly. This wasn’t just a confrontation anymore. It was a spectacle. The girl who had spilled coffee on Riki, talked back, and then dropped half the chasing mob was about to get what was coming to her.

ENHYPEN pushed you into the center of the court. The afternoon sun beat down. The air felt thick with anticipation.

Riki stepped forward, stopping a few feet away. His hoodie from yesterday was gone — replaced by a clean black t-shirt that showed the lean muscle underneath. The faint scar on his cheekbone stood out under the light. His dark eyes were cold, but there was something else in them now. That unwilling fascination from yesterday hadn’t disappeared.

“You caused quite the show yesterday,” he said, voice carrying across the court. The crowd quieted. “Fighting like a wild animal. Impressive for a nobody. But today you’re not getting away with just bruises.”

Heeseung leaned against the fence nearby, arms crossed, watching silently. The rest of the crew spread out, blocking easy escape routes.

You stood there, heart hammering, the note burning a hole in your pocket. The anonymous warning echoed in your head. Shady business. Real dangerous stuff.

Your stubborn self-respect flared again. You were tired of being cornered. Tired of the fear. Before you could stop yourself, the words spilled out — loud enough for the entire bleachers to hear.

“What about your family, Riki?”

The court went dead silent.

Riki’s expression shifted. His jaw tightened. “The fuck did you just say?”

You lifted your chin, voice steady even though your hands were shaking. “Your family. The one that shipped you off here to ‘focus on studies.’ What kind of business do they really run? Because I heard it’s not just normal rich people stuff. I heard it’s shady. Dangerous.”

Gasps rippled through the bleachers. Phones zoomed in.

Riki stared at you. For a long second, something flickered in his eyes — confusion, then irritation, then a hint of unease he quickly buried. He laughed, but it sounded forced. “You’re really digging your own grave today, aren’t you?”

He took a step closer, voice dropping lower, but still loud enough for everyone to hear.

“My parents are just rich business executives. They own companies. They sent me here because they wanted me far away so I could focus on college without their work distracting me. Normal shit. Stop making up conspiracy theories just because you’re mad I called you out for being a clumsy, mouthy bitch.”

He said it with absolute confidence. No hesitation. He genuinely believed it. His parents had kept him completely in the dark — feeding him the story of distant, successful executives who wanted their youngest son to have a clean, normal college life. He had no idea about the mafia empire, the blood money, the violence that funded his expensive clothes and this elite university.

But your question had hit the spot.

You saw it in the slight tightening around his eyes. The way his shoulders tensed just a fraction. The tiny flicker of doubt that crossed his face before he masked it with anger.

The crowd murmured louder. Some girls who had crushes on him looked uncomfortable. Others whispered about the rumor you’d just thrown into the open.

Riki stepped even closer, now only an arm’s length away. His voice turned ice-cold, meant only for you this time, though the bleachers were straining to hear.

“You don’t know shit about my family. Keep their name out of your mouth. Next time you bring them up, I won’t just have the whole campus chase you. I’ll handle you myself.”

Behind him, Heeseung’s expression had changed — more watchful, more calculating. The rest of ENHYPEN exchanged quick glances. Your words had planted something. A seed of questioning.

You stood your ground, breathing hard, the note still crumpled in your pocket. You had just poked the beast again — harder this time. In front of everyone.

Riki’s dark eyes bored into yours, that magnetic pull mixed with pure threat. The slowburn tension crackled between you like electricity. Hate. Curiosity. Something darker neither of you wanted to name yet.

The entire college watched, waiting to see what would happen next.

You had gone from invisible good girl to the one person brave — or stupid — enough to publicly question Nishimura Riki’s perfect little world.

And for the first time, Riki didn’t look completely sure of himself.

The basketball court felt smaller than it ever had, even with hundreds of students packed into the bleachers like spectators at a gladiator match. The afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows across the polished wood. Every phone was pointed your way. Every whisper felt amplified.

You stood in the center, chest still rising and falling from the adrenaline of being herded here by ENHYPEN. Your question about Riki’s family still echoed in the air like a challenge that couldn’t be taken back.

Riki’s dark eyes bored into yours. For a moment, something flickered behind the cold anger — a crack in the armor. Not fear. Not quite. But uncertainty. The kind that comes when someone plants a seed you didn’t even know was possible.

The basketball court was silent except for the low hum of hundreds of phones recording and the distant rustle of autumn leaves. The entire college sat packed on the bleachers, eyes glued to the center where you stood facing Nishimura Riki.

ENHYPEN had you surrounded. Riki stood only a few feet away, still carrying the faint scent of spilled coffee from yesterday, his dark eyes burning with barely contained rage.

You had spent the entire morning locked in your dorm room instead of going to early classes. After finding that anonymous note in your locker, you couldn’t stop. You researched. You dug through old articles, blurry forum posts, anonymous tips on shady business forums — anything that mentioned powerful families with “import-export” fronts, sudden wealth, and connections that didn’t quite add up. You weren’t an expert, but you found enough pieces to connect the dots. Enough to make your stomach twist.

Now the words were ready. Sharp. Dangerous.

Riki laughed coldly at your first question about his family. “My parents are just rich business executives. They run companies. They sent me here so I could focus on studies without their work getting in the way. Normal shit. Stop making up conspiracy theories.”

You didn’t flinch.

Instead, you looked him dead in the eyes and spoke loud enough for the entire bleachers to hear, voice steady and cutting like a blade:

“Normal business executives don’t need to ship their youngest son across the country to an isolated elite university just to ‘keep him safe from distractions.’ Normal executives don’t have entire floors of their company buildings that no employee is allowed to enter. Normal executives don’t have private security teams that carry guns instead of briefcases. And normal executives definitely don’t have their names quietly scrubbed from public records every time something messy happens.”

The court went deathly quiet.

Riki froze.

His usual smirk, that signature cold arrogance, completely shattered. For the first time since you’d met him, he looked speechless. His mouth opened slightly, then closed. Those sharp, magnetic eyes that every girl crushed on widened just a fraction — not with anger at first, but with genuine shock. Like you had punched him harder than any fist ever could.

The doubt hit him like a truck.

Heeseung, who had been calm the whole time, actually straightened up from the fence, his calculated mask slipping for half a second. Jake’s phone lowered slowly. Sunghoon stopped flicking his lighter. The rest of ENHYPEN stared at you, then at Riki, waiting for their maknae to explode.

But Riki didn’t explode.

He just stood there, staring at you, completely broken for a moment. Speechless. The confident, vicious bully who had ordered the whole campus to chase you yesterday looked… lost. Like the ground under his feet had suddenly tilted.

You didn’t stop. The morning’s research fueled every word.

“And the worst part?” you continued, voice ringing clear across the bleachers, “is that you actually believe the lie they told you. ‘Focus on studies.’ ‘Clean college life.’ They sent you here so the blood on their hands wouldn’t touch their precious youngest son. But it’s already touching you, Riki. Every time you throw a punch, every time you make someone bleed just because you can… you’re acting exactly like the son they raised in the dark.”

Riki’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. His breathing had changed — shallower, tighter. The faint scar on his cheekbone stood out as his jaw worked silently. He tried to speak, but nothing came out at first. Just a rough, broken sound.

“Shut… up,” he finally managed, but it lacked the usual bite. It sounded weak. Almost cracked.

The entire college held its breath.

You took one step closer, heart hammering but refusing to back down. Your self-respect had turned into something sharper today.

“You can keep telling yourself they’re just rich, distant business executives who wanted you to have a normal life. But deep down, you’re already wondering now, aren’t you? Why the sudden move here? Why the secrecy? Why do they flinch every time you ask too many questions about their ‘work’?”

Riki’s eyes darkened dangerously, but the shock was still there — raw and unguarded. He looked like he wanted to hit you, to shut you up the only way he knew how. But for once, the words had cut deeper than any punch he could throw.

Heeseung finally moved, stepping between you two with calm authority.

“Riki. Not here. Not like this.”

Riki shoved his hyung’s hand away roughly, but he didn’t lunge at you. He just stared at you with that intense, speechless look — a mix of fury, confusion, and something dangerously close to realization.

The seed you planted this morning had just cracked wide open.

The magnetic, terrifying campus bully — the one every girl both wanted and feared — stood speechless in front of the entire college because a plain, ordinary transfer student had hit the exact spot no one had ever touched before.

You had broken his perfect illusion, even if only for a moment.

Riki finally found his voice again, low and rough, but it trembled with barely controlled rage.

“You’re going to regret every single word you just said.”

But even as he threatened you, his eyes betrayed him. The doubt was there now. Lingering. Growing.

He turned sharply and walked off the court, ENHYPEN falling in behind him. The crew moved quieter than usual. The bleachers erupted into loud whispers the second they left.

You stood alone in the center, legs shaking, but still standing.

You had gone too far.

And yet… you didn’t feel sorry.

The slow, twisted tangle between you and Nishimura Riki had just become something much more dangerous.

Because now he wasn’t just angry at you.

He was questioning everything.

The basketball court confrontation left the entire campus buzzing for the rest of the day. Whispers followed you everywhere — some fearful, some impressed, most just shocked that a plain transfer student had managed to leave Nishimura Riki speechless in front of hundreds of people.

You kept your head down for the remaining classes, ignoring the stares. Your body still ached from yesterday’s chaotic fight, and your mind wouldn’t stop replaying the look on Riki’s face when your sharp words hit him. The doubt you planted was real. You could feel it.

When the final bell rang, exhaustion crashed over you like a wave. You had barely slept the night before because of all the research, and today had drained what little energy you had left. Instead of taking the campus shuttle, you decided to grab a cab back to the small off-campus apartment you rented. Your family lived back in your hometown — far away — so you were completely alone here, paying your own bills with the money your parents scraped together and whatever part-time work you could find.

You flagged down a cab near the main gate, slid into the backseat, and gave the driver the address. The moment your head hit the seat, your eyes grew heavy.

“Just… wake me up when we’re there,” you mumbled.

The driver grunted in response.

You fell asleep almost instantly.

But when you woke up, everything was wrong.

The cab had stopped. The engine was off. But this wasn’t your quiet little apartment building with the broken streetlight outside. This was somewhere completely different — an isolated area on the edge of campus, near the old storage warehouses that students rarely went to. Dim lighting. Tall chain-link fences. No people around.

Your heart jolted awake.

You sat up fast, disoriented, rubbing your eyes. “Wait… this isn’t my place. Where are we?”

The back door suddenly opened.

A figure slid into the seat beside you, calm and unhurried.

Nishimura Riki.

The back door suddenly opened.

A figure slid into the seat beside you, calm and unhurried.

Nishimura Riki.

He smelled faintly of clean soap and that same cologne from the basketball court, but there was something colder underneath tonight. His dark hair was slightly messy, the faint scar on his cheekbone visible under the weak overhead light. He closed the door with a soft click that sounded too final.

“Surprise,” he said quietly, voice low and rough. No smirk this time. Just that intense, magnetic stare that made your stomach drop.

You scrambled back against the opposite door, hand instinctively reaching for the handle. It didn’t budge. Child-locked.

“What the hell is this?” Your voice came out sharper than you expected, that stubborn self-respect still burning even through the fear. “Did you pay the driver? Is this some kind of kidnapping?”

Riki leaned back against the seat, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, but his eyes never left yours. He looked different tonight — less like the loud, vicious bully from the court and more like someone who had been thinking too hard about everything you said earlier.

The silence stretched for a long moment. Outside, the isolated warehouses loomed like silent witnesses under the dim lights.

Then Riki did something that completely threw you off.

He sighed.

Not a mocking laugh. Not a threat. Just a tired, surprisingly human sigh as he ran a hand through his dark hair, messing it up even more.

“Look… I’m not here to beat the shit out of you. Not tonight,” he muttered, voice quieter than you’d ever heard it. Almost raw. “After what you said on the court today… I can’t stop thinking about it. All that stuff about my parents. The floors no one can enter. The security with guns. The way they always change the subject when I ask too many questions.”

He turned his head to look at you directly. For the first time, the vicious maknae of ENHYPEN looked… human. Vulnerable in a way that made your chest tighten unexpectedly. His usual cold arrogance had cracked, and underneath was a 20-year-old guy who had just had his entire worldview shaken.

“I’ve always believed them. That they’re just rich business executives who sent me here so I could have a normal college life. Focus on studies. Dance. Stay out of their ‘work.’” He let out a bitter laugh that didn’t sound amused at all. “But after the shit you said today… I don’t know anymore.”

Riki leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees, dark eyes searching your face with an intensity that felt different now — not just threatening, but almost pleading in its desperation.

“I need you to help me.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and unexpected.

You blinked, stunned. “Help you? After everything you’ve done? After ordering the whole campus to hunt me like an animal? After threatening me?”

“Yeah,” he said simply, no denial, no excuses. “Because you’re the only one who’s actually dug into this. You spent the whole morning researching. You found things I never even thought to look for. You hit every weak spot I didn’t know existed.”

He paused, jaw clenching like the next words were physically hard for him to say.

“I want to know the truth about my family. If they’re really just executives… or if everything you said is real. The blood. The shady shit. The reason they shipped me off here like I was some fragile fucking doll they needed to protect.”

Riki’s voice dropped even lower, surprisingly honest.

“I’m not asking as the guy who rules this campus. I’m asking as the idiot who might have been living a lie his whole life. Help me uncover it. Help me figure out what the hell my parents are actually doing behind all the ‘business trips’ and locked doors.”

The cab felt smaller than ever. The slowburn tension that had always been laced with hate and fear was shifting — twisting into something new. Something far more dangerous.

You stared at him, heart racing. This was Nishimura Riki — the same boy who had beaten someone half to death on your first day, who had publicly humiliated you, who had made you run for your life. And now he was sitting here, asking for your help like a normal person whose world was falling apart.

But the doubt in his eyes was real.

The seed you had planted had taken root deeper than you expected.

Riki waited, watching you with those sharp, magnetic eyes that every girl on campus both craved and feared. For once, the vicious bully wasn’t giving orders.

He was asking.

And in this isolated, quiet corner of campus, with your family far away in your hometown and no one else around, the choice was entirely yours.

Would you help the monster who had made your life hell?

Or would you walk away and leave him to unravel alone?

The air between you crackled with unspoken possibilities.

The tangle had just gotten a lot more twisted.

The cab felt suffocatingly small with just the two of you.

Riki sat there, elbows on his knees, dark eyes fixed on you with that raw, surprisingly human look. He had just asked for your help — the vicious campus bully, the one who had made your life hell since hour one, was actually asking you to help him uncover the truth about his mafia family.

You were still processing his words when the front passenger door opened.

Then the other back door.

Then another.

Suddenly, the cab was no longer quiet.

Heeseung slid into the front seat with calm authority, turning around to face you. Jay squeezed into the middle of the back seat on your other side, forcing you closer to Riki. Jake somehow folded his long limbs into the space between the seats, half-perched like an overgrown cat. Sunghoon slipped in beside Jay with elegant ease, while Sunoo and Jungwon somehow managed to cram themselves into whatever tiny gaps were left, one practically on top of the other in the back.

Seven grown guys. One normal-sized cab.

It was ridiculous.

Heeseung’s head almost touched the roof. Jake’s knees were in the driver’s seat. Sunoo was giggling softly because Jungwon’s elbow was digging into his ribs. Riki looked mildly annoyed at the chaos but didn’t say anything to stop it.

The driver — who had clearly been paid very well — didn’t even blink. He just stared straight ahead like this was a normal Tuesday.

You stared at the sudden pile of ENHYPEN members crammed around you like clowns in a clown car.

“…Are you serious right now?” you deadpanned, voice flat with disbelief.

Heeseung gave a small, amused smile from the front. “We don’t do things halfway.”

Riki shifted beside you, his shoulder brushing yours in the tight space. “They wanted to come. Couldn’t stop them.”

Jake grinned from his awkward perch. “We heard the whole thing. Riki finally cracking? Historic moment. We’re not missing this.”

Sunghoon flicked his lighter once, the tiny flame illuminating the crowded car for a second. “Plus, we have resources. Hacking. Connections. Money. We can get into almost anything if we need to.”

Jay leaned in slightly from your other side, his expensive cologne mixing with everyone else’s. “Security footage, bank records, old emails, phone taps — we’ve got people who can do all of it. Quietly.”

Sunoo tilted his head cutely despite being squished. “We can do anything… as long as you help.”

You blinked, still trying to process the absurdity of seven dangerous, good-looking guys stuffed into one cab like sardines, all looking at you expectantly.

“Why me?” you asked, voice sharp with suspicion. Your self-respect wouldn’t let you just roll over. “You guys clearly have the power, the money, the crew. You can manage digging into Riki’s family yourselves. Why drag me into this?”

The car went quiet for a beat.

Then Heeseung chuckled softly, the sound low and knowing.

“Because we need someone to keep us from getting bored.”

Riki shot his hyung a glare, but didn’t deny it.

Jake laughed outright. “Exactly. We’re good at breaking things and scaring people. But sitting around staring at computer screens and old documents for days? That shit gets boring fast. We’ll start fighting each other or causing chaos on campus just to entertain ourselves.”

Sunoo nodded enthusiastically, even while half-sitting on Jungwon. “You’re fun when you’re mad. You fight back. You say sharp stuff. You spilled coffee on Riki and then dropped half the campus in a courtyard brawl. That’s entertainment.”

Jungwon smirked from his cramped position. “Plus, you already did the research once. You know what to look for. You hit the exact spots that made Riki go speechless. We need that.”

Riki stayed unusually quiet beside you, his knee brushing yours in the tight space. He didn’t look at the others — his eyes stayed on you, dark and intense.

Heeseung turned fully in the front seat, his expression turning more serious.

“We’re not asking you to be our friend. We’re not pretending this is some cute team-up. But you’re already tangled in this. You’re the one who cracked Riki’s perfect little world today. If his family really is as dangerous as you think… you’re safer with us than against us.”

Jay added smoothly, “And let’s be honest — you’re bored too. You came here for a quiet fresh start and ended up in the middle of the biggest mess on campus. Might as well make it interesting.”

You sat there, squished between Riki and Jay, surrounded by the entire ENHYPEN crew in the most ridiculous car setup imaginable, while they casually offered you a front-row seat to uncovering a potential mafia empire… because they didn’t want to be bored.

The slowburn tension crackled harder than ever.

Riki finally spoke again, voice low, almost private, even though everyone could hear.

“You don’t have to decide right now. But think about it. Help us dig. Keep things from getting too quiet.” A faint, dangerous smirk tugged at his lips for the first time tonight. “Besides… you already proved you’re not scared to hit where it hurts.”

The cab felt even smaller.

Seven dangerous boys. One plain girl who had somehow become the center of their chaotic world.

Your family was far away in your hometown. You were completely alone here.

And now ENHYPEN — the same crew that had hunted you across campus not even 48 hours ago— was asking you to team up with them.

Not out of kindness. But because you made things interesting.

Your life had officially become chaotic.

The next morning, you woke up with your head still spinning from the absurd cab ride. Seven dangerous, ridiculously attractive guys crammed into one car like it was the most normal thing in the world, casually asking you to help them investigate Riki’s possibly-mafia family because they were “bored.”

You stared at your phone for a long time before typing out a short message to the number Riki had forced into your contacts last night (he’d taken your phone without asking and added himself and the group chat).

You: Fine. Cafe near the east gate, 2 PM. The one with the outdoor seats. Don’t make me regret this.

The replies came fast.

Jake: yesss she’s in 🔥 Sunoo: 🥳 see you there cutie Riki: Don’t be late.

You rolled your eyes and tossed the phone aside. Your body still ached from the courtyard fight, and your mind kept replaying Riki’s raw, cracked expression in the cab. Part of you wanted to run. The smarter part knew running wasn’t an option anymore. You’d already cracked the illusion he lived in. Now you were stuck in the aftermath.

At 2 PM sharp you were sitting at an outdoor table, iced coffee (no sugar, extra shot — old habits) in front of you, nervously checking your phone. You half-expected them not to show, or to show up just to mess with you again.

They arrived together, of course. Walking across the street like they owned the pavement. Heads turned. Whispers started immediately. Riki was in the middle as always, black hoodie, dark hair falling into his eyes, that faint scar catching the light. The rest of ENHYPEN flanked him — Heeseung looking calm and calculating, Jay with his usual expensive-watch energy, Jake grinning like this was a fun field trip.

They slid into the seats around your small table, somehow making the cozy outdoor cafe feel overcrowded. Sunoo immediately reached over and stole a sip of your coffee, making a face.

“Still no sugar? You’re weird,” he said, but there was no real bite in it.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re the ones who wanted to meet. Talk.”

Heeseung leaned back, arms crossed, studying you with that quiet leader energy. “We meant what we said last night. We start digging today. Riki’s parents have a main company building downtown. We can—”

Riki cut him off suddenly, looking around the cafe with clear distaste. The soft chatter of other students, the gentle jazz music playing from the speakers, the pastel-colored umbrellas over the tables. His nose wrinkled.

“Nah. This place is too blah.”

Before you could even respond, his hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist — firm, warm, but not painfully tight. He stood up, tugging you with him so fast your chair scraped loudly against the ground.

“Riki—what the hell—” Jay yelled.

“Come on.” He didn’t wait for protest.

He started walking, dragging you along by the wrist like it was the most natural thing in the world. The rest of ENHYPEN followed without missing a beat, Jake laughing under his breath, Sunghoon flicking his lighter once with amusement, Jungwon and Sunoo exchanging grins as they trailed behind. Jay and Heeseung confused as fuck.

You stumbled a little trying to keep up, your heart racing from the sudden contact. His grip was strong, fingers long and calloused from fighting and dancing. “Riki, let go. Where are we even going?”

“Somewhere better,” he said flatly, not slowing down. “That cafe felt like a fucking library. Too quiet. Too… normal.”

The others chuckled behind you. Jay muttered something about Riki being dramatic as always. But none of them stopped him. They just fell into step, a loose pack moving through campus and then off it, heading toward the older, less-developed edge of the university district where construction projects had been abandoned halfway through.

You ended up at the tallest incomplete building in the area — a half-finished high-rise that loomed like a concrete skeleton against the sky. Scaffolding still clung to parts of it, windows missing on many floors, rebar sticking out like bones. Yellow caution tape fluttered uselessly at the entrance, but someone (probably them) had already cut through it.

The group pushed through the loose caution tape and stepped into the dim, echoing ground floor of the unfinished high-rise. Dust danced in the slanted beams of afternoon light that sliced through the open concrete frames. The air smelled of raw cement, metal, and distant rain. It was quiet except for the occasional creak of scaffolding and the wind whispering through the skeleton of the building.

Riki finally let go of your wrist once you were deep inside. You rubbed the spot where his fingers had been, glaring at the back of his head as he started heading toward the emergency stairwell without a word.

“This way,” he said, voice echoing slightly. “Higher floors have better views and way less chance of anyone wandering in.”

The rest of ENHYPEN followed like it was routine. Jake was already hopping over a pile of construction debris with way too much energy. Sunoo skipped ahead a few steps, looking around with bright curiosity. Heeseung and Jay exchanged a quick glance — still mildly confused by Riki’s sudden dramatic exit from the cafe — but they didn’t complain. Sunghoon flicked his lighter idly as he walked. Jungwon brought up the rear, kicking a small pebble that clattered across the floor.

You trailed behind, legs already protesting from the courtyard fight yesterday and the sprint across campus the day before. The concrete stairs looked endless as you started climbing.

First floor. Second. Third.

Your thighs burned. Your breathing grew heavier. The group moved easily, chatting lightly now that the rudeness had dialed back.

Jake called out from a few steps above, “Yo, this place is perfect for hideouts. We should tag it or something.”

Sunoo laughed. “Or throw a party up here. Imagine the views at night.”

Riki didn’t respond, just kept climbing with that same steady, graceful stride. His black hoodie shifted with each step, dark hair swaying slightly.

By the seventh floor, your legs felt like jelly. The scratch on your cheek from yesterday stung with sweat, and your backpack (which you’d stupidly kept on) felt like it weighed a ton. You paused on a landing, hand on the rough concrete wall, trying to catch your breath without looking too pathetic.

Eighth floor.

You finally couldn’t take it anymore.

“Riki,” you called out, voice echoing up the stairwell, a little breathier than you wanted. “How many more stairs? I’m too tired for this shit.”

The group slowed and turned to look at you. Riki stopped on the step above, glancing down with those sharp, dark eyes. For a second, something almost like amusement flickered across his face — not the cold sneer from before, but something closer to a reluctant smirk.

Sunoo giggled from higher up. “Aww, is our little fighter tapping out already?”

Jake leaned over the railing, grinning. “We’re only on the eighth. This building goes to like twenty-something unfinished floors. Prime real estate, baby.”

You shot him a deadpan look, still breathing hard. “Twenty? You’ve got to be kidding me. My legs are screaming. I fought half the campus yesterday because of your maknae, and now I’m climbing a damn skyscraper for fun?”

Heeseung chuckled softly from where he stood a few steps higher, arms crossed. “She has a point. We could’ve stopped lower.”

Jay nodded, looking mildly impressed you’d spoken up. “Riki’s dramatic ass just had to pick the highest one.”

Riki rolled his eyes but didn’t snap back with his usual venom. Instead, he leaned against the wall, watching you with that intense gaze that made your stomach flip in a way you hated. The faint scar on his cheekbone caught the dusty light.

“Tch. Weak,” he muttered, but there was less bite than before. He tilted his head, considering. “Fine. We’ll stop on the twelfth. It’s high enough — good sightlines, no one’s gonna randomly climb this far.”

He pushed off the wall and started descending the few steps back toward you. Before you could protest, he grabbed your wrist again — same firm, warm grip — and tugged you forward gently this time, almost guiding rather than dragging.

“Come on. I’ll go slower. Stop whining.”

You stumbled after him, cheeks heating up from a mix of exhaustion and irritation. “I’m not whining, I’m being realistic. Some of us didn’t spend our high school years beating people up and dancing — we studied.”

Behind you, the others started moving again, lighter laughter echoing in the stairwell.

Sunghoon’s voice drifted down,“She’s got you there, Riki.”

Jungwon added with a smirk, “Careful, Ni-ki. She might knee you in the balls next if you make her climb too much.”

Riki shot a middle finger over his shoulder without looking back, but you caught the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a full smile, but closer than you’d ever seen.

The climb to the twelfth floor went slower after that. Riki kept his pace matched to yours, still holding your wrist loosely now, like he’d forgotten to let go. Every few floors the group would pause on a landing so you could catch your breath. They joked around more freely — Jake doing stupid impressions of professors, Sunoo complaining dramatically about how “boring normal college is compared to this,” Jay teasing Riki about his “aesthetic hideout choices.”

By the time you reached the twelfth floor, the light had shifted to a warmer, golden hue pouring through the missing windows and open sections of the building. The floor was wide open, concrete pillars standing like ancient ruins, a few tarps and abandoned tools scattered around. The view was actually stunning — the campus spread out far below, autumn trees like orange and red confetti, the city skyline hazy in the distance.

You collapsed onto a relatively clean stack of wooden pallets, chest heaving. “Finally. If you ever drag me up more than ten floors again, I’m pushing one of you off the edge.”

Riki released your wrist and leaned against a nearby pillar, crossing his arms. He looked down at you with that same mix of intensity and something new — reluctant respect, maybe. Or just curiosity that was starting to burn hotter than the hate.

“Not bad for a mouthy transfer student,” he said quietly, voice carrying that faint rasp. “Most people would’ve tapped out on floor five and cried.”

You flipped him off weakly from your seated position. “Bite me, Nishimura.”

The rest of ENHYPEN settled in around the open space, spreading out on ledges and piles of materials. The rudeness had definitely toned down into rough, playful banter. Sunoo plopped down next to you and offered you a half-crushed snack from his pocket with a bright grin. Jake started telling an exaggerated story about the time they snuck into the dean’s office just for fun. Even Heeseung joined in with dry commentary.

Riki stayed a little apart at first, but his eyes kept drifting back to you — dark, magnetic, and now carrying that slow-burning tension that felt heavier in the quiet, high-up isolation of the building.

For the first time since your chaotic first day, sitting there exhausted on the twelfth floor with the entire crew joking around you, it didn’t feel like you were purely their target anymore.

It felt like you were becoming part of whatever twisted game they were playing.

And Riki… he was watching you like he was trying to decide whether to keep fighting you or start pulling you deeper into his world.

The sun's golden light now painted the abandoned floor in warm tones.

You sat, legs still burning from the climb, munching on the half-crushed snack Sunoo had given you. The group had settled into a loose circle — Jake sprawled dramatically on a tarp, Jay checking his expensive watch out of habit, Sunghoon flicking his lighter on and off, Sunoo and Jungwon perched on a low concrete ledge like mischievous cats. Niki stood against a pillar, eyes occasionally wondering back at you.

After a few minutes of light banter dying down, Heeseung cleared his throat and steered things back to business. His voice was calm, leader-like, cutting through the relaxed vibe.

“Alright. Enough warming up. We need to talk about the gala.”

The word landed heavy. The playful energy shifted instantly.

Riki’s jaw tightened. He pushed off the pillar and moved closer, dropping down to sit on the edge of a stack of materials near you — close enough that his knee almost brushed yours again.

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice low and rough. “My parents are throwing one. Black-tie, fancy venue downtown, next weekend. They called me yesterday acting all normal — ‘Come home for the night, Riki. Bring some friends if you want. It’ll be good for networking.’ Like it’s just another rich people party.”

You straightened up, the exhaustion from the climb forgotten. “A gala? For what? Charity? Business announcement?”

Heeseung exchanged a glance with Jay before answering. “That’s the thing. On paper, it’s a ‘charity gala for international cultural exchange’ or some clean-sounding bullshit. But the guest list is… interesting. We did some quick digging this morning before meeting you.”

Jay pulled out his phone, scrolling through notes. “Lots of big names from import-export sectors. People whose companies have been flagged in quiet investigations before — nothing proven, but the kind of gray-area types that make your skin crawl. Private security firms that don’t exactly advertise. A few politicians who owe favors. And the venue? High-end hotel with underground parking that’s perfect for discreet entrances.”

Jake sat up, his usual grin fading into something sharper. “Riki’s parents have been ‘traveling for business’ a lot lately. Sudden trips to ports in different countries. And this gala popped up out of nowhere two weeks ago. Timing feels off.”

Sunghoon clicked his lighter once, the small flame reflecting in his eyes. “We think it’s a cover. A way for them to meet face-to-face with partners without raising flags. Handshakes, quiet deals in back rooms, maybe moving product or settling territories. Classic rich criminal playbook — hide the shady shit behind champagne and tuxedos.”

Riki’s hands clenched slightly on his knees. He stared out at the distant campus view, but his focus was inward. The doubt you’d planted on the basketball court was clearly still eating at him. “They’ve thrown events before. I went to a couple when I was younger. Always boring as hell — old people talking money, me stuck in a suit smiling for photos. But this one… they’re pushing harder for me to come. Said it’s important for ‘family image.’”

You watched him carefully. The vicious campus bully who’d ordered everyone to hunt you down was gone for the moment. In his place was a 20-year-old guy whose perfect illusion about his “normal rich executive” parents was cracking wider by the second.

You spoke up, voice steady despite the way your heart picked up speed. “If it really is for the shady side of their business, it could be the perfect chance to see things up close. Guest lists, who talks to who, any off-limits areas. Maybe even overhear something. But walking in there blind sounds stupid.”

Sunoo tilted his head, still swinging his legs. “We could crash it properly. Fake invites aren’t hard with our connections. Or go as Riki’s plus-ones. Make it look natural.”

Jungwon smirked. “And if shit goes south, we handle it. We’re good at that part.”

Riki finally looked directly at you again, his dark eyes intense under the golden light. The magnetic pull was there — that mix of lingering anger, unwilling fascination, and now something heavier. Like he was silently asking if you were really in this with them.

“You started this,” he said quietly, the rasp in his voice more pronounced. “You’re the one who dug up the locked floors, the gun-carrying security, the scrubbed records. If we go to this gala… you should come too.”

The rest of the group went quiet, watching the two of you.

Heeseung raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt. Jake’s grin crept back a little, sensing the tension.

Riki continued, leaning in slightly. “Not as some weak tag-along. You notice shit. You don’t flinch easy. And if my parents are really running some empire behind my back…” His voice dropped even lower, almost private despite the others listening. “I want someone there who isn’t already bought into the lie. Someone who’ll call it out if they see it.”

The air felt thicker. The abandoned building creaked softly around you. Below, the campus looked small and far away — a reminder that whatever happened at this gala could pull you all in deeper.

You held his gaze, that stubborn self-respect flaring again. “If I go, it’s not because you dragged me by the wrist or because you’re bored. It’s because I want answers too. But we do this smart. No rushing in like you usually do with your fists. We watch, we listen, we get proof.”

A faint, dangerous smirk tugged at Riki’s lips — the same one from the cab, but softer now. “Deal. But if anyone touches you there…” He cracked his knuckles lightly, the sound echoing. “I won’t be nice.”

The others chuckled, the rudeness toned down to familiar rough banter again.

Jay leaned back. “We’ll get the full guest list tonight. Figure out outfits, cover stories. Make sure we blend in with the rich crowd.”

Sunoo brightened. “I call dibs on helping with dresses or suits. We need to look expensive.”

Jake laughed. “Riki in a tux? He’ll hate every second.”

Riki shot him a middle finger, but there was no real heat. His eyes stayed on you a beat longer, the slowburn crackling hotter in the golden light.

Sitting there on the twelfth floor of the skeleton building, with ENHYPEN joking around you and the gala looming like a dark invitation, you realized the game had shifted again.

You weren’t just the new target anymore.

You were becoming the wildcard in Riki’s unraveling world.

And the monster who’d noticed you on day one… was starting to pull you closer instead of pushing you away.

The gala was only days away.

Whatever happened there would decide if Riki’s perfect little college life stayed intact… or burned down with the rest of the empire his parents had hidden from him.

Plans for the gala solidified — fake invites through Jay’s connections, cover stories, who would watch whom, how to slip away if things got messy. Riki stayed quieter than usual, but every time your eyes met, that slow-burning tension pulled tighter.

Eventually Heeseung checked his watch. “We should head back. It’s getting late, and we still need to pull the full guest list tonight.”

The descent down the twelve floors was easier than the climb up. Riki didn’t grab your wrist this time, but he stayed close, matching your pace on the stairs. The others kept the banter light — Jake complaining about how his legs were “too long for this shit,” Sunoo dramatically pretending to faint on the landings.

When you reached the ground floor, a sleek black limousine was waiting. It idled smoothly at the edge of the abandoned site, windows tinted dark, driver standing respectfully by the open door.

Riki noticed your surprised look and shrugged. “What? We’re not squeezing into another clown car.”

The ride started comfortably enough. You sank into the soft leather seats across from most of the group, the city lights beginning to flicker on outside as they headed back toward your off-campus apartment. The interior smelled of expensive cologne and faint leather polish. There was even a mini-fridge stocked with drinks.

But traffic hit hard near the main roads. The limousine crawled forward in a sea of red brake lights, barely moving for blocks. Heeseung sighed from his seat, tapping his fingers on his knee.

“Fuck this. We’re gonna be here forever.”

Jake stretched his long legs across the aisle, grinning at you. “Hey… since we’re stuck, entertain us.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Entertain you? I’m not a dancing monkey.”

Sunoo leaned forward with sparkling eyes. “Truth or dare! Come on, it’ll be fun. We’re all bored anyway.”

Riki, sitting diagonally from you with one arm draped over the back of the seat, smirked faintly. “Scared?”

Your stubborn pride flared. “Fine. But if it gets stupid, I’m out.”

The game started innocently enough, the low hum of the engine and distant honking providing background noise.

Jungwon went first. “Truth. What’s the real reason you talked back to Riki on day one?”

You shrugged. “Because I hate bullies. Simple as that.”

Sunghoon’s turn. He dared Jake to call the dean and pretend to be a concerned parent complaining about “noisy birds on campus.” Jake did it with a perfect fake accent, making everyone crack up as the poor secretary tried to respond.

Then it was your turn to ask Riki.

“Truth or dare?”

He leaned forward, dark eyes locking onto yours. “Dare.”

You thought for a second. “I dare you to admit one thing you actually respect about me.”

The limousine went quiet. Riki’s jaw flexed, but after a beat he answered, voice low and raspy. “You don’t flinch. Most people do when I look at them. You just… stare back and swing harder.”

The air thickened. That magnetic pull crackled again.

The game continued. Sunoo dared Jay to do aegyo — which Jay refused at first but eventually delivered with deadpan reluctance, making everyone lose it. Heeseung asked you a truth,“If we find out Riki’s family is exactly what you think… what would you do?”

You answered honestly. “Help him decide what he wants. Not what they want for him.”

Riki’s gaze stayed on you the whole time.

When it circled back, Jake dared you,“Let Riki fix that scratch on your cheek properly. No complaining.”

You rolled your eyes but leaned forward. Riki surprised you by actually pulling a small antiseptic wipe from the limo’s first-aid kit. His fingers were gentle — calloused but careful — as he dabbed at the faint mark on your cheek. The closeness made your pulse jump. He smelled like clean soap and that same cologne. For a few seconds, the vicious bully disappeared completely, replaced by someone quiet and focused.

“Not bad,” he muttered when he finished, voice barely above a whisper. His thumb brushed your jaw once before he pulled away.

The dares slowly grew bolder.

Sunoo dared you,“Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

He grinned mischievously. “Sit on Riki’s lap for the next three rounds.”

Your face heated up, but you weren’t backing down. Riki’s eyes darkened as you stood and moved across the narrow space. He didn’t say anything — just spread his legs slightly so you could settle on his thighs. His hands rested lightly on your hips to steady you, warm through your clothes. The limousine suddenly felt much smaller. You could feel the heat of his body, the faint rise and fall of his chest against your back. Every bump in the road pressed you closer.

Riki’s voice was low near your ear. “Comfortable?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, but your voice came out breathier than intended.

The others whistled and laughed. Jake snapped a quick photo (which you immediately made him delete).

Next round, Riki’s turn to dare you again.

“Dare,” you said before he could ask.

A dangerous smirk tugged at his lips. “Kiss me on the neck. Just once. No teeth… unless you want to.”

The car went dead silent for a second. Your heart hammered.

"Fuck no-"

"If you don't you are a scaredy cat."

And that hit your ego. You turned slightly in his lap, one hand bracing on his shoulder. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to the side of his neck, right where his pulse jumped under warm skin. You felt him tense beneath you, his fingers tightening on your hips for a split second. His cologne filled your senses. When you pulled back, his eyes were darker, heavier.

“Not bad, mouthy,” he rasped, voice rougher than before.

Heeseung cleared his throat, amusement lacing his tone. “Alright, tone it down before we cause an accident.”

But the game kept going, the intimate edge lingering.

Jungwon dared Sunoo to whisper something filthy in Jay’s ear (which made Jay turn red for the first time you’d ever seen). Then it was your turn again.

You looked at Riki, still perched on his lap. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

You smirked. “Tell me what you were actually thinking the first time you saw me fight back in that courtyard.”

Riki’s hands flexed on your hips. He stared at you for a long moment before answering, voice low enough that only you and the closest members could hear clearly. “That I wanted to pin you against the wall and figure out exactly how far that fire would go… and whether I’d enjoy breaking it or watching it burn me instead.”

The slowburn tension exploded into something sharper, hotter. Your breath caught.

"Wow." You breathed out, which came out raspier.

The others chuckled lowly, sensing the shift, but no one interrupted.

"I meant ew- yeah-ew." You recovered quick.

Traffic finally started to clear as the limo turned onto your street. The game wound down, but the charged atmosphere stayed thick in the air.

The driver pulled up smoothly in front of your modest apartment building. You slid off Riki’s lap, legs a little unsteady, cheeks still warm. You gathered your things and stepped out, turning back to look at the seven of them inside the luxurious car. The playful energy from the game still lingered, mixed now with something far more dangerous and intimate.

You flipped Riki off with a tired but defiant grin. “Fuck you, Nishimura. For the stairs, the dragging, the whole ‘hunt me like an animal’ thing… and for making this game way too interesting.”

The group burst into laughter. Jake whooped. Sunoo waved dramatically. Heeseung just shook his head with a small smile.

Riki leaned forward in his seat, dark eyes glinting with that dangerous mix of irritation, fascination, and heat. “See you soon, mouthy. Don’t forget the gala.”

The door closed. The limousine pulled away smoothly into the night, taillights disappearing around the corner.

You stood there for a moment on the sidewalk, the cool evening air brushing your skin. Your neck still tingled where you’d felt Riki’s pulse, and your hips remembered the press of his hands. Then a small, unexpected smile tugged at your lips.

Despite everything — the fear, the bruises, the chaos — you felt… alive. Twisted up in something far bigger, darker, and now undeniably more intimate than your quiet fresh start had ever promised.

Shaking your head, still smiling to yourself, you turned and headed inside your apartment building, the weight of the upcoming gala settling in your chest like both a warning and a very dangerous invitation.

Whatever happened next weekend, one thing was clear that you were no longer invisible.

And Nishimura Riki was no longer just the monster who’d noticed you on day one.

He was becoming something far more complicated and it hadn't even been a week since you met him… and you were already tangled too deep to untangle easily.

It had been exactly one week since the rooftop meeting.

Seven days of absolute chaos wrapped in the weirdest kind of peace you’d ever experienced.

ENHYPEN stopped bullying you completely.

No more hunting. No more public humiliation. No more ordering the whole campus to chase you down. The videos of your courtyard brawl were still circulating, but now people looked at you with a strange mix of fear, respect, and curiosity instead of just target practice.

Riki still threw sharp comments at you in the hallways — “Move faster, mouthy” or “Don’t spill anything on me today” — but there was no real venom behind them anymore. Sometimes his eyes would linger a second too long, that slow-burning tension crackling between you like live wires. The rest of the crew treated you like some chaotic little sister they’d accidentally adopted.

They dragged you into their world without asking.

Random texts at odd hours. Jake sending memes at 3 AM. Sunoo demanding your opinion on outfit choices for the gala. Jungwon and Sunghoon showing up at your apartment with takeout because “you looked like you needed real food, not vending machine crap.”

And every single evening, without fail, they’d kidnap you from your quiet study sessions and take you somewhere ridiculous to “plan” for the gala.

Tonight was the final meeting — the day before the big event.

You thought you were just meeting for coffee again.

You were wrong. Again.

The black limousine pulled up in front of your apartment building at exactly 7 PM. The same sleek one from last time. The door opened and Jake’s head popped out with a ridiculous grin.

“Get in, loser. We’re going gala shopping… kind of.”

You barely had time to grab your bag before they pulled you inside. The entire crew was already crammed in, music blasting, snacks everywhere. Riki was sprawled in the corner seat, one arm draped over the backrest, looking unfairly good in a simple black shirt. His eyes found yours immediately.

“Finally,” he muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Thought you’d chicken out.”

“Shut up, Nishimura. I still haven’t forgiven you for the twelve-floor death climb last time.”

The car erupted in laughter. Sunoo immediately shoved a strawberry milk into your hands. “For energy! Tomorrow’s gonna be wild.”

Instead of heading to any normal store, the limo drove straight to a private designer boutique that was closed to the public. The owner — clearly paid a ridiculous amount — greeted ENHYPEN like old friends and let them have the entire place.

What followed was pure chaos.

You stood in the middle of racks of designer dresses and tuxedos while seven guys turned shopping into a full-contact sport.

Jake kept throwing the most ridiculous outfits at you — bright red ball gowns with feathers, sparkly mini dresses that barely covered anything. “Try this one! You’ll look like a mafia princess!”

Sunoo was the worst. He kept dragging you into the fitting room, zipping you up himself while giggling. “This one makes your waist look insane. Riki will lose his mind.”

Riki, lounging on a velvet couch like a spoiled prince, would only grunt or roll his eyes every time you came out in a new dress. But you caught him staring. Hard. Especially when you stepped out in a sleek black off-shoulder gown that hugged your figure perfectly.

“Not bad,” was all he said, but his voice was rougher than usual.

You flipped him off in the mirror. “High praise from the guy who once called me a stupid bitch in front of the whole cafeteria.”

The banter flew back and forth, fast and fun, like a romcom on steroids.

At one point Jungwon dared you to make Riki try on a bright pink suit. Riki refused at first, cursing everyone out in Japanese and Korean, but when you joined the teasing — “Scared you’ll look too pretty, Nishimura?” — he actually did it. The sight of the vicious campus bully in a hot pink tailored suit had the entire crew dying of laughter. Even Heeseung couldn’t keep a straight face.

You ended up picking a deep emerald green gown with a daring slit up the side — elegant enough to blend in with rich guests, but bold enough that you felt powerful in it. Riki’s eyes darkened when you showed the final look. He didn’t say anything, but the way his gaze traced the slit made your stomach flip.

As the night wore on, the playful energy slowly shifted.

You were all sitting on the boutique couches now, surrounded by discarded clothes and half-empty champagne glasses the owner had brought out. The gala was tomorrow. Reality was creeping back in.

Heeseung leaned forward, suddenly serious. “Final run-through. We go in as Riki’s plus-ones from university. Rich kids looking to network. Our job is to watch, listen, and gather intel. No hero shit unless absolutely necessary.”

Jay added, “We already have fake IDs and invites. Security will be tight, but we have a guy on the inside who can get us access to the private wings.”

You nodded, nerves finally kicking in. “And if we find proof that Riki’s parents are actually running a mafia empire?”

The group went quiet.

Riki stared at the floor for a long moment, then looked up at you. His voice was low, but steady.

“Then I deal with it. But I need to see it myself first.”

The tension was thick — a perfect mix of romcom chaos from earlier and the dark drama waiting tomorrow. You could feel the shift in Riki every time his eyes met yours. The hate was still there, buried under layers of reluctant respect and something hotter, more dangerous.

Before you left the boutique, Riki caught your wrist again — gentler this time.

“Tomorrow… stay close to me,” he said quietly, just for you. “If shit goes south, I’m not letting anything happen to you.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool even though your pulse jumped. “Aw, is the big bad bully getting soft?”

He smirked, but his eyes stayed serious. “Don’t push it, mouthy. I can still throw you over my shoulder and carry you out if I have to.”

The ride back to your apartment was quieter. The crew was hyped but focused. When the limo stopped in front of your building, Riki walked you to the door while the others waited in the car.

He stopped just outside, hands in his pockets, looking at you under the streetlight.

“Get some sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow’s gonna be… a lot.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling the weight of everything. “Yeah. You too.”

For a second, neither of you moved. The slowburn tension hummed between you — all the fighting, the rooftop, the cab, the game in the limo, the shopping chaos — everything had led to this moment before the real storm.

Riki leaned in slightly, voice barely above a whisper. “Hey… thanks. For not walking away when I asked for help.”

You swallowed, heart racing. “Don’t thank me yet. We might regret this tomorrow.”

He gave you one last long look — dark, intense, magnetic — then turned and headed back to the limo.

As the car drove away, you stood there smiling to yourself despite the nerves.

One week ago you were the new transfer getting hunted across campus.

Now you were about to walk into a mafia gala with the seven most dangerous (and ridiculous) guys on campus.

Tomorrow was going to be insane.

And you couldn’t wait.

The gala was a glittering cage of wealth and secrets.

Crystal chandeliers cast golden light across the marble ballroom. Women in couture gowns and men in tailored tuxedos moved like elegant predators, champagne flutes catching the light as laughter and low conversations floated through the air. The orchestra played smooth, sultry jazz that masked the undercurrent of deals being made in shadowed corners.

You stood at the top of the sweeping staircase on Riki’s arm, emerald gown hugging every curve, slit flashing dangerously with each step. The fake invitation had worked. The security had scanned your IDs without a second glance. To the outside world, you were just another rich university kid tagging along with the Nishimura heir and his “friends.”

Inside, your heart hammered like a war drum.

Riki looked lethal in all black — tailored tuxedo jacket open just enough to show the crisp white shirt underneath, dark hair styled back but one rebellious strand falling over his forehead. His hand on your lower back was firm, warm, possessive. He hadn’t said much since picking you up, but every time his fingers brushed the bare skin exposed by the gown’s low back, the slowburn tension from the past week flared hotter.

The rest of ENHYPEN moved through the crowd like ghosts — Heeseung and Jay scanning for threats, Jake and Sunghoon charming guests for information, Sunoo and Jungwon ready to cause distractions.

For the first hour, everything went according to plan. You danced with Riki once — bodies close, tension crackling every time his fingers brushed your skin. He leaned in during a slow spin and muttered against your ear, “You look too good in that dress. It’s distracting.”

You stepped on his foot on purpose. “Focus, Nishimura.”

He smirked, but his grip tightened.

Then everything shattered.

You were near the champagne tower when a tall man in a sharp navy suit froze mid-conversation. His eyes locked onto you with cold recognition.

“You…” he breathed, voice low but sharp enough to cut through the nearby chatter. “The transfer student who’s been digging into the Nishimura family. What the hell are you doing here?”

Your blood ran cold. He knew. Someone had connected the dots from your research and the questions you’d asked on campus.

Riki tensed instantly beside you, his hand sliding from your back to your waist in a protective grip. But before he could step forward, the man raised his voice, drawing curious glances from surrounding guests.

“You kids think you can sneak into this event and play detective? This isn’t some university game—”

Panic surged. If he kept talking, security would swarm. The entire cover would collapse.

You didn’t think. You acted.

Grabbing Riki by the lapels of his tuxedo, you yanked him down and kissed him hard.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, messy, and convincing — lips crashing together with enough heat to sell the story of two drunk, rich university kids lost in the moment. Your fingers curled into his shirt as you pressed closer, the slit in your gown shifting dangerously against his leg.

Riki froze for half a second… then kissed you back.

His hand slid to your hip, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss with surprising intensity. For a heartbeat, the entire ballroom faded. There was only the heat of his mouth, the faint taste of champagne on his tongue, and the way his body reacted to yours — possessive, hungry, like he’d been waiting for an excuse.

The man shut up immediately, stunned into silence.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing harder than the situation warranted. Riki’s eyes were dark, pupils blown, lips slightly swollen. He looked at you like he wanted to devour you and argue with you at the same time.

But the damage was already done in a different way.

The kiss had bought you a few seconds of cover, but it had also pushed Riki’s temper over the edge. He turned on the man with pure fire in his eyes.

“You keep my family’s name out of your fucking mouth,” Riki snarled, voice loud enough to draw more attention. “Who the hell do you think you are, questioning my guests?”

The argument exploded fast.

The man sneered. “Your parents won’t be happy when they hear their precious son brought a nosy little bitch into their event—”

Riki shoved him hard. The man stumbled back into a waiter, sending a tower of champagne glasses crashing to the floor in a loud, glittering explosion.

Security started moving toward you.

And then the real gunfire started.

Three sharp cracks ripped through the ballroom.

Screams erupted. Guests dropped to the floor. Tables overturned. The orchestra cut off mid-note as people scrambled for cover.

The shots weren’t random — they came from the east wing, where several armed men in suits had suddenly appeared. Bullets pinged off chandeliers and embedded in marble pillars. One grazed a column near your group, sending stone chips flying.

It was connected to you.

The man who had recognized you wasn’t just a random guest. He was one of Riki’s parents’ rivals — part of a rival faction that had been at war with the Nishimura empire for years. The second he spotted you and realized the “university kids” were digging into their business, he had signaled his own men hidden among the security. Riki’s jealous outburst and the public argument had been the perfect spark. They opened fire to create chaos, aiming to eliminate the threat (you) and send a message to Riki’s parents at the same time.

“Get the girl!” someone shouted from the east wing. “She’s the one asking questions!”

Riki reacted instantly. He grabbed your arm and yanked you behind a thick marble pillar, his body shielding yours as more shots rang out. Glass rained down from a shattered chandelier.

“Stay down!” he growled, voice rough with adrenaline and lingering heat from the kiss.

The rest of ENHYPEN moved like a trained unit. Heeseung barked orders through the earpieces while pulling Jake and Sunghoon into cover. Jay had already drawn a concealed gun (you didn’t even want to know where he got it from). Sunoo and Jungwon flipped a heavy table on its side, creating a barricade.

You were pressed against Riki’s chest, heart pounding. His arm was locked around your waist, the emerald gown torn at the slit from the sudden movement. His breathing was ragged against your hair, the kiss still burning between you.

“This is because of me,” you whispered, voice shaking but steady. “He recognized me from the research. The kiss was supposed to cover it, but your temper—”

“Don’t,” Riki cut you off, his grip tightening. His free hand pulled a small knife from inside his tux sleeve. “Not now. We’re getting out of here. Together.”

More gunfire erupted. A rival enforcer shouted orders: “Take the Nishimura boy alive if possible. His parents will pay for him. The girl dies!”

The ballroom had turned into pure chaos — stylish violence, screaming guests in designer clothes, broken glass everywhere, and bullets flying while seven dangerous boys fought to protect you.

Riki looked down at you, eyes blazing with a dangerous mix of jealousy, protectiveness, and something deeper.

“You kissed me to shut that guy up,” he rasped, voice low and intense even in the middle of the gunfire. “Don’t think I’m letting that go.”

A bullet whizzed past the pillar, forcing him to pull you tighter against him.

The gala had become a war zone.

And in the middle of the hellfire, with Riki’s body shielding yours and his lips still tingling from your kiss, the slowburn between you had officially ignited into something explosive.

The night was far from over.

The ballroom had descended into pure hell.

Gunshots cracked through the air like thunder. Screams echoed off marble walls. Guests in thousand-dollar gowns and tuxedos scrambled for cover as broken glass rained from shattered chandeliers. Security was shouting, rival enforcers were firing warning shots, and chaos reigned.

Then you heard it.

“The girl! Take her down! She knows too much!”

Three armed men in dark suits broke through the crowd, heading straight for your group. They were Riki’s parents’ rivals men again— the same faction that had recognized you and triggered the shootout. Their goal was clear: eliminate the nosy transfer student who had been digging into their empire.

Something inside you snapped.

You weren’t the quiet, invisible good girl anymore.

You laughed.

A short, breathless, slightly unhinged laugh that cut through the noise.

“Fuck this,” you muttered.

Before Riki could stop you, you jumped out from behind the pillar — emerald gown slit flashing, heels kicked off in one smooth motion.

The first attacker lunged at you with his gun raised.

You moved on pure instinct — all those dumb action movies you’d watched alone in your room finally paying off.

Your leg whipped up in a swift, powerful kick. The heel of your foot connected perfectly with his wrist. The gun flew from his hand and skittered across the marble floor. Before he could recover, you spun and delivered a second kick to his knee. He dropped with a howl.

The second man charged. You ducked under his swing, grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back, and slammed your elbow into his ribs. He gasped. You finished with a hard slap to the side of his head that sent him stumbling.

The third tried to aim. You were already moving — a messy but effective spinning kick that knocked the gun straight out of his grip. It clattered away as you followed up with a brutal punch to his stomach.

Ten men.

Ten fucking men converged on you in the middle of the chaotic ballroom.

And you went full feral.

You fought like a cornered animal who had finally decided enough was enough.

Sloppy? Yes.

Beautiful? Absolutely not.

Effective? Terrifyingly so.

A swift kick to one guy’s hand sent his gun flying. You grabbed another’s wrist, twisted it viciously, and bit down hard on his forearm when he tried to grab you. He screamed. You punched the next one square in the groin, then followed with an elbow to the throat. Someone tried to tackle you from behind — you dropped low, swept his legs, and stomped on his hand as he fell.

Glass crunched under your bare feet. Your gown tore further at the slit. Sweat mixed with the faint metallic smell of blood in the air. But you didn’t stop.

One by one, they dropped.

Some curled on the floor clutching broken wrists or bruised ribs. Others backed away, eyes wide with shock as the “harmless university girl” turned into a whirlwind of elbows, knees, slaps, and vicious kicks.

By the time the last man hit the ground, groaning and holding his stomach, you stood in the middle of a circle of defeated attackers — chest heaving, hair wild, emerald gown ripped and disheveled, knuckles split and bleeding.

The entire ballroom had gone eerily quiet except for the distant screams and the sound of your own ragged breathing.

ENHYPEN themselves finished fighting and stared at you.

Heeseung’s mouth was actually open. Jake’s phone was halfway raised but forgotten. Sunghoon’s lighter had stopped clicking. Sunoo’s eyes were sparkling with pure awe. Jungwon and Jay looked stunned speechless.

Riki…

Riki looked like someone had punched him in the chest.

He stepped forward slowly, eyes wide with a mix of shock, pride, and something fiercely protective. Without a word, he closed the distance and engulfed you in a tight, crushing hug — arms wrapping around you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

His face buried in your hair. His voice came out rough, low, and raw against your ear.

“You absolute fucking maniac… never do that again.”

You laughed breathlessly into his chest, adrenaline still pumping. Your arms came up to hug him back, fingers curling into his tuxedo jacket.

“Watching action movies paid off,” you said, voice shaky but proud. “First I beat those college brats in the courtyard… and now these guys. Never expected to actually drop ten armed men, but… heh.”

Riki pulled back just enough to look at you. His dark eyes were intense, the lust from the kiss still simmering beneath the surface, mixed now with raw admiration. His thumb brushed a streak of dirt from your cheek.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, but there was no bite — only heat. “Completely fucking insane. And I think I hate how much I like it.”

Before you could reply, the spotlight hit.

A bright, harsh beam of light suddenly swung across the ballroom and locked onto your group — all eight of you standing in the middle of the chaos you’d created.

The crowd parted.

Riki’s parents stepped into the light.

His mother was elegant in a deep crimson gown, diamonds glittering at her throat, but her face was a mask of controlled anger mixed with visible worry. His father stood tall beside her in a perfectly tailored black suit, eyes sharp and cold as they took in the scene — the broken glass, the groaning men on the floor, and their youngest son standing protectively in front of a torn-up girl in an emerald gown. His gaze moved slowly from the defeated rivals on the floor to his youngest son, and finally landing on you.

The entire hall fell silent.

The rivals who had started the shooting were already being quietly escorted away by security loyal to the Nishimura family. But the damage was done. The gala was ruined. And the truth about Riki’s family was no longer hidden behind champagne and lies.

You stood there in the spotlight — barefoot, dress torn, knuckles bleeding, surrounded by seven dangerous boys and now facing the very empire you had helped expose.

Riki’s hand tightened on your waist.

The silence stretched.

Riki’s grip on your waist tightened. You could feel his heartbeat slamming against your side.

His father spoke first, voice low and commanding, carrying across the ruined ballroom without effort.

“Riki.”

One word. Heavy. Loaded.

Riki lifted his chin, but he didn’t step away from you. “Father.”

His mother’s eyes narrowed on you. “And who is this girl who just single-handedly dismantled ten of our… associates?”

You felt the weight of every gaze in the room shift onto you. Your torn gown, bare feet, bleeding knuckles — you looked exactly like what you were: a plain transfer student who had accidentally (and then very intentionally) blown open the doors to their empire.

Riki answered before you could. His voice was rough, protective, laced with that familiar rasp. “She’s with me. Her name is —”

“We know who she is,” his father cut in smoothly. His eyes flicked to you again, assessing. “The transfer student who’s been asking very dangerous questions on campus. The one who somehow convinced our son to start doubting everything we’ve built for him.”

His mother took a slow step forward, her heels clicking sharply on the marble. “You caused quite the scene tonight, young lady. First the public confrontation at the university, then this.” She gestured gracefully at the chaos around you — the dropped guns, the groaning men, the shattered glass. “And now you’re standing here in the middle of our gala looking like you just walked out of a street fight.”

You swallowed hard, but that stubborn self-respect refused to let you shrink. Even with Riki’s arm around you and adrenaline still buzzing in your veins, you lifted your chin.

“I didn’t come here to cause trouble,” you said, voice steadier than you felt. “But when someone recognizes me and starts threatening to expose everything, I improvise. The kiss was to shut him up. The fighting… that was self-defense.”

Riki’s mother’s lips twitched — almost a smile, but colder. “Impressive improvisation. Most girls your age would have run screaming.”

Riki’s father wasn’t amused. His gaze shifted to his son. “Riki. We sent you to that university to keep you away from this world. To give you a clean life. And yet here you are, bringing the chaos straight to our doorstep. Along with your little crew.”

Heeseung finally spoke, calm and respectful but firm. “With all due respect, sir, this wasn’t planned. One of your rivals recognized her. Things escalated.”

Jake added with a nervous laugh, trying to lighten the mood, “Yeah… and then she went full action hero on ten armed guys. It was kind of awesome.”

Sunoo nodded enthusiastically. “She dropped them like it was nothing. Watching action movies really does pay off.”

Riki shot them both a glare that screamed shut up, but it was too late.

His mother’s eyes returned to you, sharper now. “So you’re the one who planted those seeds of doubt in my son’s mind. The locked floors. The security. The scrubbed records.” She tilted her head. “You’ve been quite busy for a ‘plain’ transfer student.”

You felt Riki tense beside you. His hand slid from your waist to intertwine with your fingers — a small, surprisingly gentle gesture that grounded you.

Before you could answer, Riki spoke again, voice low but edged with steel.

“She didn’t plant anything that wasn’t already there. I asked her to help me because I needed the truth. You’ve been lying to me my whole life about what you really do. Shipping me off to college so I wouldn’t see the blood on your hands.”

The words landed like another gunshot.

His father’s face hardened. “This is not the place for that conversation.”

“Then when is?” Riki shot back, temper flaring. “After you drag us all out of here and pretend none of this happened? After you threaten her for simply asking questions?”

His mother raised a hand, silencing the growing tension. “Enough. We will discuss this privately. All of you — come with us. Now.”

Security began closing in, but not aggressively. They were clearly under orders from Riki’s parents.

Riki didn’t move. His fingers stayed laced with yours.

You looked up at him. His jaw was clenched, eyes dark with a storm of emotions — anger at his parents, leftover jealousy from the kiss, fierce protectiveness toward you, and that raw vulnerability you’d seen in the cab.

For a moment, the spotlight felt like it was only on the two of you.

Then Riki leaned down, voice barely a whisper against your ear.

“Whatever happens next… stay close to me. I’m not letting them touch you.”

His mother’s sharp eyes caught the intimate moment. Her expression flickered — surprise, then calculation.

His father simply nodded once to the security team.

As the group began moving toward a private exit at the back of the ballroom, you walked beside Riki, hand still in his, the torn emerald gown trailing behind you like battle scars.

The rest of ENHYPEN fell into step around you — a protective circle of seven dangerous boys who had gone from hunting you to shielding you in less than two weeks.

You glanced back once at the ruined gala — broken glass, overturned tables, the faint smell of gunpowder still lingering.

You had come here to uncover secrets.

Instead, you had helped blow the entire empire wide open.

And now Riki’s parents — the literal heads of a mafia family — were taking all of you somewhere private to “talk.”

The spotlight had followed you out of the ballroom and into whatever came next.

Riki squeezed your hand once, tight and reassuring.

You squeezed back.

Whatever hell waited in the next room, you weren’t facing it alone anymore.

The slowburn had turned into an inferno.

And you were burning right alongside Nishimura Riki.

"Twisted and Tangled"

Part 14: Behind Closed Doors

The private elevator ride up to the penthouse suite was silent except for the soft hum of the machinery and the occasional shift of expensive shoes on marble.

Riki never let go of your hand.

His grip was firm, warm, almost grounding — fingers laced tightly with yours as if letting go would make the entire night unravel even faster. The torn emerald gown clung to your body, the slit now ripped higher from the fight, your bare feet cold against the elevator floor. Blood still dotted your knuckles. Your lips still tingled from the desperate kiss you’d given him in the middle of the chaos.

The rest of ENHYPEN stood around you like a protective wall. Heeseung’s expression was unreadable. Jay kept glancing at the security cameras. Jake tried cracking a nervous joke that died halfway. Sunoo stayed unusually quiet, while Sunghoon and Jungwon exchanged tense looks.

Riki’s parents stood at the front — his father with his hands clasped behind his back, his mother’s crimson gown still perfect despite the mayhem downstairs.

No one spoke until the elevator doors opened directly into a sprawling private suite overlooking the city. Floor-to-ceiling windows showed the glittering skyline. Expensive furniture, a grand piano in the corner, a fully stocked bar. It looked like a luxury hotel room crossed with a mafia safehouse.

The doors closed behind you with a soft, final click.

Riki’s father turned first.

“Sit.”

It wasn’t a request.

You all moved to the long sectional sofa. Riki pulled you down beside him, refusing to release your hand even when you tried to pull away slightly. His thumb brushed over your split knuckles — gentle, almost absentminded.

His mother remained standing, arms crossed, eyes scanning every one of you before landing on you.

“You’ve caused quite the disturbance tonight,” she said coolly. Her voice was elegant, but there was steel underneath. “Ten of our rivals’ men on the floor because of one university girl. My son publicly arguing in the middle of our gala. And now the entire event is ruined. Care to explain yourself?”

You met her gaze head-on. Your heart was racing, but that stubborn fire — the same one that had made you speak up on day one — refused to let you cower.

“I didn’t come here to ruin anything,” you said steadily. “One of your ‘associates’ recognized me. He was about to expose that we were asking questions about your family’s real business. I kissed Riki to shut him up and create a distraction. Then Riki lost his temper and escalated it. The shooting started because your rivals saw an opportunity to take me out — and send a message to you.”

Riki’s father’s eyes narrowed. “And how exactly did a plain transfer student learn enough to ask those kinds of questions?”

Riki’s grip tightened on your hand.

“Because I helped her,” Riki answered before you could. His voice was low, rough, but steady. “She didn’t force anything. I asked her to dig. After what she said at the basketball court… I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The locked floors. The security with guns. The way you always change the subject when I ask about your ‘business trips.’”

He looked straight at his parents, eyes burning.

“You told me you were just rich executives. That you sent me to university so I could have a normal life. But that’s bullshit, isn’t it? You sent me away so I wouldn’t see what you really are.”

The room went deathly quiet.

His mother’s expression flickered — a crack in the perfect mask. For the first time, she looked… tired.

His father exhaled slowly. “This world is dangerous, Riki. We built everything so you wouldn’t have to carry it. So you could dance, study, live freely. Bringing her into this — bringing all of you — was reckless.”

Riki laughed bitterly. “Reckless? You’ve been lying to me my whole life. And now you’re angry because I finally found out?”

You squeezed his hand back, silently supporting him.

His mother stepped closer, her heels clicking. Her gaze settled on you again — sharper this time.

“You’re the catalyst,” she said. “The one who cracked the perfect story we gave our son. Tell me, girl… what do you plan to do with what you’ve learned tonight?”

You didn’t flinch.

“I plan to stand by whatever Riki decides,” you answered honestly. “He deserves the truth. And if your ‘business’ is as bloody as it looks… he shouldn’t have to carry that weight alone.”

Silence again.

Then Riki’s father surprised everyone.

He walked over to the bar, poured two glasses of whiskey, and handed one to his wife. He took a slow sip before speaking.

“We are not ‘just executives.’ We control territories. Shipping routes. Influence that reaches far beyond what the public sees. The gala tonight was meant to solidify alliances and neutralize threats. Your little group… and especially you,” he looked at you, “nearly cost us millions in disrupted deals.”

His mother added softly, “But we also saw what you did in that ballroom. Ten men. Untrained. Yet you dropped them. That kind of fire is rare.”

Riki’s jaw clenched. “Don’t talk about her like she’s some weapon.”

His father set his glass down. “We’re not. We’re acknowledging that our son has surrounded himself with capable people. Including her.”

He turned to the entire group.

“You will stay here tonight. Security is doubled. Tomorrow we talk properly — about the truth, about what comes next, and about how to keep all of you safe from the enemies you just provoked.”

His mother’s eyes lingered on your joined hands with Riki.

“And you two…” She paused, a faint, almost amused smile touching her lips. “That kiss looked very convincing. Be careful. In our world, feelings complicate things more than bullets.”

Riki’s ears turned slightly red, but he didn’t let go of your hand.

The meeting ended with more questions than answers, but the immediate threat had passed. Security escorted the rest of ENHYPEN to adjacent suites, leaving you and Riki alone in the main living area for a moment.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Riki turned to you.

He pulled you into another hug — tighter than the one in the ballroom. His face buried in your neck, breathing you in like he needed the reminder that you were real and still here.

“You scared the shit out of me when you jumped out there,” he muttered against your skin. “Ten armed guys. Barefoot. In that dress. You’re fucking insane.”

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around him. “Action movies paid off, remember?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His dark eyes were intense, the scar on his cheekbone standing out under the soft suite lighting. The jealousy from the kiss earlier was still there, mixed with something deeper now.

“That kiss…” he said, voice low and rough. “Wasn’t just for cover, was it?”

You smirked, even though your heart was racing. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Nishimura?”

He leaned in slowly, forehead resting against yours. “We’re in deep shit now. My parents know everything. Their enemies know about you. But…”

His thumb brushed your bottom lip, still slightly swollen from the earlier kiss.

“I’m not letting anyone take you away from this. From me.”

The slowburn tension wrapped around you both like smoke — hate that had twisted into protection, fascination that had become something undeniably deeper.

Outside the suite, the city glittered innocently.

Inside, with Riki’s arms around you and the weight of his family’s empire pressing down, you realized the real fight was only just beginning.

But for tonight, in this quiet moment before the storm continued tomorrow, you let yourself lean into him.

The tangle had never felt more dangerous.

Or more right.

It was 2:47 AM when the suite door burst open without warning.

Riki’s mother stormed in, still wearing her crimson gala gown with a black coat thrown over it. Her face was pale but her eyes burned with fury and fear. Two armed men stood behind her, tense and ready.

“Everyone up. Now.”

You jolted awake on the couch, still leaning against Riki’s shoulder. He was already moving, instantly alert, one arm instinctively pulling you closer.

“What happened?” Riki demanded, voice rough from sleep but sharp with worry.

His mother’s voice cracked like a whip through the suite. “Your father has been kidnapped. Rivals hit the convoy on the way back from the gala. They want leverage, and they know we’re vulnerable after tonight’s mess.”

The room exploded into motion.

Heeseung was on his feet first, pulling on his jacket with calm precision. Jake grabbed his phone. Sunghoon and Jay moved like they’d trained for this. Sunoo and Jungwon jumped up, eyes wide but focused.

Riki’s hand found yours immediately, squeezing tight.

His mother looked at the entire group, then specifically at you and Riki. “You two — come with me. The rest of you, get ready.”

She led you and Riki down to the underground parking garage while the others headed to their own vehicles. The space was filled with sleek black cars, but she stopped in front of two matte-black Porsche 911 GT3s — low, aggressive, and built for speed.

Before she could say anything, Riki stepped forward. “Mom, we’re going. All of us.”

His mother’s eyes flashed. “Absolutely not. This is too dangerous. You are staying here where it’s safe. I will handle this with my men.”

Heeseung’s calm voice cut in from behind her as the rest of ENHYPEN arrived. “With all due respect, ma’am, we’re not staying behind.”

Riki’s mother turned, anger rising. “You are children playing at war. My husband is in real danger. I will not risk all of you—”

“We’re not children,” Heeseung interrupted, his voice steady but firm — the oldest stepping up as the natural leader. “We’ve handled situations like this before on a smaller scale. We have skills. We have each other. And we’re not letting Riki go in alone.”

Jake nodded, unusually serious. “Yeah. We’re a team. We started this together, we finish it together.”

Sunghoon flicked his lighter once, the small flame steady. “We’re faster and more unpredictable than your regular security. Let us help.”

Sunoo added softly but determinedly, “Riki’s our maknae. We protect our own.”

Riki’s mother opened her mouth to argue again, but Heeseung stepped closer, meeting her gaze without flinching.

“We can do this,” he said quietly, but with absolute conviction. “We’ve already proven we can fight when it matters. Let us bring him back.”

The garage fell silent for a tense moment.

Riki’s mother looked at each of them — at the seven boys who had somehow become a family unit, and at you standing right beside her son.

Finally, she exhaled sharply.

“Fine. But you follow my orders once we’re on site.” She opened the trunk of the lead Porsche and pulled out two handguns — sleek, matte black, already loaded. She handed one to Riki and the other to you.

“You two are capable,” she said, looking directly at you. “I saw what you did in that ballroom tonight. Ten men. Untrained, yet you dropped them. Take these. Use them if you have to.”

She turned to Riki, voice softening just slightly. “Bring your father home. And keep her safe.”

Riki nodded once, jaw tight. “We will.”

You stared at the gun in your hands for a second — cold, heavy, real — then closed your fingers around it.

Riki opened the passenger door for you. You slid in, heart hammering. He got behind the wheel, the Porsche’s engine roaring to life with a deep, aggressive growl.

The sunroof was already open.

Riki glanced at you as he shifted into gear, dark eyes intense. “Ready?”

You clicked the safety off the gun and gave him a small, fierce smile. “Let’s go get your dad.”

The two matte-black Porsches exploded out of the underground garage like predators unleashed.

Cold night wind howled through the open sunroof as Riki pushed the car harder, engine roaring like a beast. You stood up through the sunroof, one hand braced on the roof, the other gripping the loaded handgun Riki’s mother had given you. Your torn emerald gown whipped violently in the wind, hair flying wild, bare feet planted on the leather seat.

Riki glanced up at you, dark eyes fierce. “Hold on tight!”

Behind you, the rest of ENHYPEN’s cars followed in tight formation — Heeseung and Jay in one Porsche, Jake and Sunghoon in another, Sunoo and Jungwon bringing up the rear. Every single one of them had taken a gun from the trunk before leaving. Eight guns. Eight dangerous people racing through the empty streets toward the river warehouse district.

The GPS on the dashboard counted down.

Warehouse in four minutes.

You felt alive. Terrified. Electric.

Then headlights appeared in the side mirror — a black SUV tailing you aggressively, closing the distance fast.

Riki’s voice crackled through the earpiece shared with the group. “We’ve got company. One SUV behind us.”

Heeseung replied instantly, calm as ever. “Lose them or take them out. We can’t lead them to the warehouse.”

Riki’s jaw clenched. “Hold on.”

He yanked the wheel hard.

The Porsche screamed into a sharp U-turn, tires screeching against the asphalt. The sudden change in direction threw you slightly, but you braced yourself and aimed.

The black SUV swerved to avoid collision, but it was too late.

You fired.

The gunshot cracked loud in the night air. Your first shot shattered their windshield. The second hit the front tire. The SUV fishtailed wildly.

But it didn’t stop.

Instead, it accelerated, now chasing you head-on in the opposite lane.

“Shit— they’re ramming!” Riki shouted.

The chase exploded into full chaos.

Riki floored it, weaving through the empty streets at insane speeds. The Porsche’s engine screamed. You stayed standing through the sunroof, wind tearing at your face, firing shot after shot at the pursuing SUV while Riki drifted around corners like he was born for this.

Behind you, the rest of ENHYPEN joined the fight.

Jake leaned out of his window and fired at the SUV’s tires. Sunghoon took precise shots from the passenger side. Heeseung’s car pulled up alongside, Jay providing cover fire.

The black SUV rammed into the side of Sunoo and Jungwon’s car, sending sparks flying.

Sunoo yelled through the earpiece, half-laughing, half-panicking, “They’re really trying to kill us!”

Riki took another sharp turn, drifting the Porsche so hard the back end swung out. You nearly lost your balance but caught yourself, then fired again — this time hitting the SUV’s engine block. Smoke started pouring from their hood.

“They’re still coming!” you shouted, reloading with the spare magazine Riki had tossed you earlier.

Riki’s voice was low and dangerous. “Then we end it.”

He slammed the brakes and spun the wheel.

The Porsche did a perfect 180-degree turn, now facing the damaged SUV head-on.

You didn’t hesitate.

You aimed carefully and emptied half the magazine into their front tires and radiator. The SUV swerved violently, crashed into a streetlight, and spun out, coming to a smoking stop.

The rest of ENHYPEN’s cars flew past the wreck, horns blaring in victory.

Riki floored it again, the Porsche roaring forward toward the warehouse district. You dropped back into the seat, breathing hard, adrenaline pumping through your veins like fire.

Riki glanced at you, eyes dark and intense, a wild grin breaking across his face for the first time tonight.

“You’re fucking insane,” he said, voice rough with something like awe. “Standing through the sunroof shooting while I’m drifting? I think I’m in love with how crazy you are.”

You laughed breathlessly, still gripping the warm gun. “Focus on driving, Nishimura. We still have to get your dad.”

The convoy tore through the final streets and skidded to a stop near the dark warehouses by the river. The other cars surrounded yours protectively.

Heeseung’s voice came through the earpiece, calm and commanding. “East entrance is ours. Move in fast. Riki, you and her take point. We’ve got your back.”

Riki killed the engine, looked at you one last time, and reached over to brush a strand of wind-torn hair from your face.

“Stay close to me,” he said quietly. “No more jumping out alone like at the gala.”

You smirked, clicking a fresh magazine into the gun. “No promises.”

Then you both stepped out into the night.

The real fight for Riki’s father was about to begin.

The warehouse district by the river was a graveyard of rusted metal and concrete shadows.

Dim security lights flickered like dying stars. The air smelled of saltwater, oil, and gunpowder. Twenty-plus armed rivals had turned the largest warehouse into a fortress, and Riki’s father was somewhere inside — tied up, beaten, but still breathing.

The eight of you moved like a single weapon.

Riki and you took point on the east entrance, guns raised, hearts pounding in sync. The rest of ENHYPEN fanned out — Heeseung directing from the shadows, Jake and Sunghoon providing sniper cover from a nearby rooftop, Jay and Sunoo clearing the perimeter, Jungwon moving like a ghost through the crates.

Riki glanced at you one last time before kicking the side door open. “Stay behind me.”

You smirked, adrenaline making your voice steady. “Like hell.”

The fight exploded the second you stepped inside.

Gunfire lit up the dark space like fireworks from hell.

Rivals poured out from behind stacked crates and metal beams, shouting orders. Bullets ricocheted off steel pillars and shattered overhead lights, sending glass raining down.

Riki fired with deadly precision — every shot dropping a threat. You moved beside him, the gun in your hands feeling strangely natural now. You dropped two men with clean shots, then spun and kicked a third who tried to flank you, sending his weapon flying.

“Left!” Heeseung’s voice crackled in your earpiece.

You and Riki turned as one. Jake and Sunghoon picked off three more from above. Jay and Sunoo appeared from the west side, laying down suppressing fire.

The warehouse became a warzone.

Riki’s father was tied to a chair in the center of the open floor, blood on his face but eyes fierce when he saw his son.

“Riki!” he shouted hoarsely.

Riki’s face hardened. “We’re getting you out.”

But the rivals weren’t done.

A group of five charged from the upper walkway, guns blazing. Riki shoved you behind a crate and returned fire, but one enemy had a clear shot lined up — straight at Riki’s back while he covered his father.

You didn’t think.

You moved.

You jumped out from cover and slammed into Riki from the side, shoving him hard out of the line of fire.

The bullet meant for him tore through your shoulder instead.

White-hot pain exploded across your body.

You gasped, stumbling, but didn’t fall. Blood bloomed dark against the torn emerald fabric of your gown.

Riki’s eyes widened in pure horror.

“NO!”

He caught you before you could drop, one arm wrapping around your waist while he fired back with the other hand, dropping the shooter with a single precise shot.

The rest of ENHYPEN went feral.

Heeseung’s voice turned ice-cold over the comms. “Protect them! Take everyone down!”

Jake and Sunghoon rained bullets from above. Jay and Sunoo charged forward like demons. Jungwon moved like lightning, disarming two men with brutal efficiency.

Riki lowered you gently behind a stack of crates, his hands shaking as he pressed them against your bleeding shoulder.

“You idiot,” he growled, voice breaking. “You absolute fucking idiot — why would you do that?!”

You laughed weakly through the pain, blood staining your fingers as you gripped his wrist. “Because… I’m tangled with you now, Nishimura. Can’t let you die before we figure this out.”

His eyes were wild — fury, fear, and something raw and deep that went far beyond the slowburn you’d been dancing around for weeks.

He ripped off part of his tuxedo shirt and pressed it hard against your wound. “Stay with me. Don’t you dare close your eyes.”

The fight raged on around you.

ENHYPEN moved like a perfectly trained unit. They cleared the remaining rivals with ruthless efficiency — no mercy, no hesitation. Jake was shouting encouragement while shooting. Sunoo was surprisingly vicious. Heeseung directed with calm lethality.

In the end, the last enemy fell with a final gunshot from Riki’s father himself — he’d managed to free one hand and grab a dropped weapon.

Silence finally settled over the warehouse, broken only by heavy breathing and the distant sound of the river.

Riki’s father staggered over, bruised but alive. He looked at you — bleeding in his son’s arms — then at Riki.

“You chose well,” he said quietly.

Riki didn’t answer. He was too busy holding you, forehead pressed to yours, whispering fiercely, “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay. I’ve got you.”

You smiled through the pain, one bloody hand reaching up to touch his cheek. “Told you action movies would pay off… even if I took the hit this time.”

He laughed — a broken, relieved sound — and pressed a desperate kiss to your forehead, then your lips, soft and trembling.

The rest of ENHYPEN gathered around, battered but victorious. Heeseung knelt beside you, checking the wound. “It’s through and through. We need to get her to the family doctor. Now.”

Sunoo was already calling for extraction. Jake was trying to lighten the mood with a shaky joke. Sunghoon and Jungwon stood guard, making sure no one else was coming.

Riki lifted you carefully into his arms, bridal style, ignoring your weak protest.

“I’m carrying you whether you like it or not,” he muttered, voice thick. “You took a bullet for me. The least I can do is carry you out.”

As the group moved toward the exit, sirens wailed faintly in the distance — Riki’s mother’s reinforcements finally arriving.

You rested your head against Riki’s chest, listening to his heartbeat as the pain started to blur at the edges.

The empire was real.

The danger was real.

But so was this — the boy who had once hunted you across campus now holding you like you were the most precious thing in his world.

The slowburn had become something unbreakable.

As Riki carried you into the waiting car, the rest of ENHYPEN piling in around you, you whispered against his neck,

“We survived.”

Riki pressed another kiss to your hair, voice soft but fierce.

“Yeah. And we’re just getting started.”

The cars sped away into the night — eight people bound by blood, bullets, and a love that had been born in chaos and fire.

The tangle was no longer twisted.

It was theirs.

The private clinic Riki’s family used was quiet, sterile, and smelled faintly of antiseptic and expensive cologne.

You sat on the edge of the examination table, shoulder freshly cleaned and stitched. The bullet had gone clean through — no major damage, just a painful graze that needed cleaning, antibiotics, and a thick bandage. The doctor (a calm, discreet man who clearly worked for the Nishimura family) finished wrapping your shoulder and stepped back.

“You’ll be sore for a few days, but you’re lucky. No surgery needed. Just rest and keep it clean.”

Riki hadn’t left your side the entire time. He stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed, dark eyes never leaving you. His tuxedo was ruined — blood on the sleeves (yours and some of his father’s), jacket discarded somewhere. The rest of ENHYPEN waited outside in the hallway, giving you two space.

As soon as the doctor left, Riki crossed the room in two strides and gently cupped your face.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he whispered, voice rough. “Taking that bullet… don’t ever do that again.”

You smiled tiredly, leaning into his touch. “As I said I couldn’t let you die before we figured us out.”

He let out a shaky breath and pressed his forehead to yours. For a moment, the chaos of the night faded — the gala, the chase, the warehouse fight, his parents. It was just the two of you.

His mother had already taken his father home for a full check-up. She’d given Riki one last long look before leaving, something like reluctant approval in her eyes.

The rest of the night passed in a blur.

ENHYPEN dropped you off at your small apartment first, but Riki refused to let you stay there alone.

“No,” he said simply, grabbing your hand as you tried to get out of the car. “You’re coming with me.”

Heeseung raised an eyebrow from the driver’s seat but didn’t argue. The others just smirked knowingly.

Riki dragged you to his private condo — a sleek, modern penthouse on the top floor of a luxury building far from campus. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering city. The space was minimalist but expensive: dark furniture, a massive bed visible through the open bedroom door, soft lighting.

The second the door closed behind you, the tension that had been simmering for weeks finally snapped.

Riki turned to you, eyes dark and hungry. “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, stepping closer. “Just a bandage. I’m not fragile, Nishimura.”

That was all it took.

He closed the distance in one stride, hands cupping your face as he kissed you — hard, deep, desperate. All the jealousy from the gala kiss, the fear from watching you get shot, the relief of surviving together poured into it. You kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers tangling in his messy dark hair, pulling him closer.

He walked you backward until your back hit the wall, careful not to jostle your injured shoulder. His mouth moved to your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he murmured against it,

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Your hands slid under his ruined shirt, feeling the lean muscle underneath. “Then stop talking and show me.”

Clothes came off in a heated rush — his torn tuxedo shirt hitting the floor, your ruined emerald gown pooling at your feet. Riki lifted you carefully, mindful of your wound, and carried you to the massive bed.

He laid you down gently, hovering over you, eyes devouring every inch of you.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, voice hoarse.

Then he was on you — kissing, touching, worshipping. His hands explored your body like he was memorizing it, lips trailing fire down your neck, your collarbone, lower. You arched into him, gasping when he found sensitive spots that made your toes curl.

When he finally pushed into you, it was slow at first — deep, intense, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

“Riki…” you moaned, nails digging into his back.

He groaned against your neck, hips moving with that same lethal grace he used when fighting or dancing. “Say my name again.”

“Riki—”

The pace quickened, raw and passionate. The bed creaked beneath you. Sweat slicked your skin. Every thrust sent sparks of pleasure through you, mixing with the dull ache in your shoulder in the most intoxicating way.

He whispered filthy praises against your ear — how tight you felt, how perfect you were, how he’d wanted to ruin you since the first time you talked back to him.

You came first, crying out his name as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Riki followed right after, burying himself deep with a low, broken groan, collapsing on top of you while still careful of your injury.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city outside.

Riki rolled to the side, pulling you gently against his chest, careful not to press on your bandaged shoulder. He pressed soft kisses to your forehead, your temple, your lips.

“You’re mine now,” he murmured, voice sleepy but possessive. “No more running. No more fighting alone. We do this together — the good, the bad, the mafia bullshit… all of it.”

You smiled against his skin, tracing lazy patterns on his chest.

“Deal, Nishimura.”

He chuckled softly, arms tightening around you.

As sleep pulled you both under, the city lights twinkling outside the windows, you realized something with perfect clarity.

The boy who had once been your worst nightmare had become your safest place.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Three months later

The penthouse was quiet for once.

You were curled up on the massive sectional sofa in one of Riki’s oversized black hoodies, your shoulder now fully healed except for a faint scar that matched the one on his cheekbone. Riki lay stretched out beside you, head in your lap, your fingers lazily playing with his dark hair while a movie played on the huge screen.

For the first time since the gala, life had felt almost… normal.

His parents had slowly begun pulling him into the family business — but only the parts he chose. No more lies. No more hiding. The truth was ugly, but it was out in the open now. Riki was still the same sharp-tongued, possessive asshole you’d fallen for, but there was a new weight in his eyes. A new purpose.

The rest of ENHYPEN had become permanent fixtures in both your lives. They crashed at the condo constantly, turning the place into a chaotic second home. Jake brought snacks. Sunoo brought drama. Heeseung brought order. They were your family now — loud, dangerous, ridiculous, and fiercely loyal.

But peace in the mafia world never lasted long.

It started with a single phone call at 3:12 AM.

Riki’s mother.

Her voice was ice-cold and urgent.

“They’re coming for all of us. The rival alliance we thought we dismantled after the gala… they reformed. Bigger. Stronger. They’ve declared open war. They want the entire Nishimura empire burned to the ground — and every single one of you with it.”

Hellfire broke loose again.

By sunrise, the city was already feeling the tremors.

Explosions at three of the family’s legitimate warehouses. Hits on several high-ranking allies. A direct threat delivered to the penthouse: a black envelope with a single line written in blood-red ink.

“The boy, the girl, and their little gang of seven — all of you die tonight.”

Riki stood in the middle of the living room, jaw clenched, eyes burning with that familiar lethal fire. The rest of ENHYPEN were already there — geared up, armed, faces set.

Heeseung looked at everyone, voice calm but commanding.

“They want war? Then we give them one.”

That's how the final war began.

For the next forty-eight hours, the city became a battlefield hidden behind luxury and shadows.

ENHYPEN moved like ghosts — faster, smarter, and far more unpredictable than any rival faction expected. They hit supply lines, dismantled hidden safehouses, intercepted shipments, and turned the enemies’ own tactics against them.

You rode shotgun in Riki’s Porsche again, sunroof open, wind in your hair, gun steady in your hands. You kicked down doors, covered Riki’s back during raids, and even took down two enforcers yourself with the same sloppy-but-effective action-movie style.

The crew became legends in the underworld overnight.

They started calling them “ENHYPEN” — not just as a silly university gang name anymore, but as something feared.

The seven boys and the girl who fought like demons.

The ones who protected their own no matter the cost.

The ones who turned the tide of a war everyone thought the Nishimura family would lose.

The final battle happened at the old abandoned high-rise — the same incomplete building where you’d once argued with Riki’s mom and planned the gala infiltration.

It was poetic, almost. Rivals had taken over the entire structure as their base. Over fifty armed men. Heavy weapons. They thought they were untouchable.

They were wrong. ENHYPEN hit them at night. You and Riki led the charge through the east stairwell, the same stairs you’d once complained about climbing. This time you ran up them without hesitation, guns blazing, covering each other perfectly.

Heeseung coordinated from the ground floor like a general. Jake and Sunghoon rained hell from the rooftops. Jay and Sunoo cleared the middle levels with terrifying efficiency. Jungwon moved like a shadow, taking out threats before they even knew he was there.

You and Riki fought side by side on the upper floors a deadly dance of bullets, kicks, and trust.

At the very top, the same open rooftop where you’d once called them spoiled brats — the rival leader waited with his last remaining guards.

He sneered when he saw you. “The girl who started all of this.”

Riki stepped in front of you, gun raised. “She ends it.”

You took down three men with precise shots. Riki dropped two more. When the rival leader aimed straight at Riki’s chest, you moved without thinking, kicking the gun from his hand and slamming your elbow into his face.

He went down.

Silence fell over the rooftop.

The war was over.

ENHYPEN had won.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky, the eight of you stood together on that same rooftop where everything had once begun to change.

Riki pulled you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest. His lips brushed your forehead.

“We did it,” he whispered. “It’s over.”

You smiled, exhausted but lighter than you’d felt in months. “We survived. Again.”

Heeseung looked at all of you, battered, bloody, but unbreakable and allowed himself a rare, proud smile.

“From now on… the underworld knows us as ENHYPEN. Not just a crew. Not just kids. A force.”

Jake laughed. “Like the Avengers, but hotter and way more dangerous.”

Sunoo cheered. “We should get jackets. Matching ones.”

Riki rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his grin. He looked down at you, eyes soft in a way only you got to see.

Sunghoon flicked his lighter once, the small flame steady. “They’ll think twice before coming for any of us again.”

Jay nodded, wiping blood from his knuckles. “We protected our own. That’s what matters.”

Jungwon looked at you and Riki, smirking. “Especially you two. From enemies to… whatever this is.”

Riki didn’t let you go. He pulled back just enough to look at you, dark eyes soft in the golden morning light.

You leaned up and kissed him softly.

“You started this whole mess,” he murmured, thumb tracing your jaw. “Talking back to me on day one. Spilling coffee on me. Fighting ten guys in a courtyard. Taking a bullet for me. And now… you helped end a war.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours.

“I love you,” he said simply, no hesitation, no games. “Twisted, tangled, messy as hell… but I love you.”

Your heart swelled. You smiled, tired but brighter than the sunrise behind you.

“I love you too, Nishimura. Even when you were being an absolute asshole.”

He laughed softly and kissed you slow, deep, full of everything you’d survived together.

Around you, the rest of ENHYPEN pretended to gag and cheer at the same time.

“Get a room!” Jake yelled.

Sunoo covered his eyes dramatically. “My innocent eyes!”

Heeseung just shook his head, smiling. “We should head back. Riki’s parents are waiting.”

As the group started moving toward the stairs, Riki kept his arm around your shoulders, refusing to let you walk even a step away from him.

You looked out over the city one last time , the place that had once been your fresh start and had become your battlefield, your home, your everything.

From the first punch in the alley… To the coffee spill and the campus-wide chase… To the rooftop plans, the gala kiss, the bullet you took, and the war you helped win…

It had all led here.

Riki noticed you smiling and tilted his head.

“What are you thinking about?”

You glanced up at him, then at the seven boys who had become your family, then back at the glowing city.

You laughed softly and said the only thing that felt right:

“Twisted and tangled… but worth every second.”

Riki’s lips curved into that dangerous, beautiful smirk you’d fallen for.

“Yeah,” he murmured, pressing one last kiss to your temple. “Worth every damn second.”

And with the sunrise painting the sky gold behind you, the eight of you — ENHYPEN walked down from the rooftop together.

Not as bullies. Not as victims. Not as kids playing at war.

But as legends.

[heesvnqie]

Witch of hyung line would be most into using sex toys on their gf

ranking enhypen hyung line (hyung line) most → least likely to be obsessed with using sex toys on their girlfriend (pure delulu headcanon energy, mdni fr, i'm sliding into your dms with the nastiest thoughts tonight)

#1 — heeseung oh baby this man is number one with zero competition. heeseung would have a whole hidden drawer that’s basically a mini sex shop. vibes? high-tech vibrators, app-controlled bullets he can tease you with while you're out in public trying not to whimper in front of your friends, thick dildos he makes you practice deepthroating on while he watches with that signature predatory stare, remote egg vibes he slips inside before award shows just to see how long you last before texting him "please heeseung i can't anymore ㅠㅠ". he gets off on control and your overstimulation. he'd edge you for hours with a wand pressed right on your clit while whispering "you're so pretty when you're crying for me, hold it just a little longer angel~" and then overstim you until you're squirting all over his sheets, shaking, begging him to stop (but he won't). absolute toy connoisseur. 10/10 menace.

#2 — jake puppy boy gone feral. jake's the type to get genuinely excited like "babe look what i ordered!!" and unbox a whole haul of toys with the biggest heart eyes. loves anything that makes you loud. vibrating cock rings so he can feel the buzz while he's balls deep, clit suckers that have you arching off the bed screaming his name, anal beads he slowly pulls out while you're cumming around his fingers. he's experimental af, always asking "wanna try this tonight? i think you'll like it~" and then spends the whole session praising you like "such a good girl taking it so well for me, fuck you're dripping everywhere". bonus points if the toy makes you squirt—he'll lick it all up like it's his last meal. very enthusiastic, very giving, very likely to say "one more baby, i know you can give me one more" until you're boneless.

#3 — jay jay is luxury + control. expensive toys only. think sleek, rose-gold vibrators, high-end suction toys, silk bondage sets with built-in vibes. he doesn't just use them, he orchestrates. picture him in nothing but grey sweatpants, sitting back against the headboard, legs spread, making you ride a thick suction dildo stuck to the floor while he strokes himself slowly and tells you exactly how fast to bounce. "that's it princess, fuck yourself deeper for me. show me how bad you want my cock instead." loves watching your face when the vibrations hit that spot just right, loves when you beg him to take over because the toy isn't enough anymore. he's the type to buy you a custom plug with his initial on it and make you wear it all day under your skirt. possessive, teasing, mean in the hottest way. toys are foreplay for him—he still needs to ruin you with his dick after.

#4 — sunghoon sunghoon is more old-school nasty. he doesn't need a whole collection—he's got one or two favorites he uses to absolutely destroy you. probably a powerful wand vibrator he presses mercilessly to your clit while he's fucking your mouth, or a slim vibe he slides inside alongside his cock for that insane stretch + buzz combo that makes your eyes roll back. he's quiet about it but so intense. holds your jaw and makes you look at him while the toy is ruining you, smirking when tears spill because "you can take it, stop whining." doesn't talk much during but when he does it's filthy like "look how greedy your pussy is, swallowing the toy and still begging for more." uses toys mostly to prep/train you for him, to make you cum so hard you forget your own name before he even slides in. ice prince on the streets, absolute toy-dom in the sheets.

so yeah... heeseung takes the crown, hands down. fight me if you don't agree.

@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

[heesvnqie]

In Progress?

im not even half finished of "twisted & tangled" and i already crossed 11k? this story is going to be huuuuugeeeee.🤭

[heesvnqie]

In progress?

God- I have one of the best stories of mine of Nishimura Riki in progress and trust me, this one is lit. This is one of those with plot, smut, thriller, action, drama, dark romance and everything that gets girls like me squeakling.

"Twisted & Tangled" drops 11th April!

Ready for it? 🤭🎀

Follow me and stay tuned! :)

[heesvnqie]

Hey I wanted to ask are you working on a lot of request at the moment? since I wanted to request something but I don't want to overwhelm you in case you were working on a lot at the moment :)

OMG no, nohhh not at all darling! I love to write requests from yall!<3

[heesvnqie]

idk if u take reqs or not but if u do can u pls write smth for sunghoon or niki where it's like a very toxic relationship but not like cheating and stuff, just them and reader being very stubborn and constantly getting into arguments about dumb things and breaking up and getting back together to the point that their friends are lowk sick of them. alot of angst but they're down bad for each other so a happy ending where they try to change for each other

Feel me?-park sunghoon

pairing: fem!reader x park!sunghoon word count: 6.7k+ genre: romance, smut, angst warnings: >> angst, fight, self-harm, smut,cussing, biting/marking, fingering, begging, size kink, dom!jsunghoon x sub!reader, unprotected sex (a big NO-NO)

The first time you met Park Sunghoon, you wanted to punch his stupidly perfect face.

It was Jay’s house party—same one every semester, same sticky floors, same playlist on repeat, same people pretending they weren’t already drunk by 10 p.m. You only went because Karina swore there would be “decent guys this time” and because staying in your dorm scrolling TikTok felt even more depressing.

You were in the kitchen pouring yourself another drink when he appeared like he owned the place. Tall, broad shoulders filling out a plain black hoodie, dark hair falling into his eyes just enough to look effortless. Ice-skate-sharp cheekbones, long fingers wrapped around a red solo cup like it was a damn trophy. Park Sunghoon—business major, rink rat, campus pretty boy who everyone either wanted to date or be. You’d seen him around lectures, always in the back row with earbuds in, looking like he was judging the professor’s PowerPoint.

He reached past you for the bottle of vodka on the counter. His forearm brushed your shoulder—barely—and you still flinched like he’d burned you.

“Move,” you muttered.

He froze mid-reach, looked down at you with those cold dark eyes. “You talking to me or the counter?”

“Both of you are in my way.”

A tiny smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. Not friendly. Annoyed. “Cute. Didn’t realize the kitchen had assigned seating.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Didn’t realize some people needed a whole ego to pour a drink.”

He let out a short, humorless laugh, poured his shot, then leaned one hip against the counter, crossing his arms. “You always this charming, or is it just me?”

“Special occasion,” you shot back. “You give off strong ‘I peaked in high school’ energy.”

His smirk disappeared. Eyes narrowed. “And you give off strong ‘I hate everyone who’s better looking than me’ energy.”

You opened your mouth to fire something even meaner, but Karina appeared out of nowhere, grabbing your wrist. “Okay, drama queen, let’s not start World War III in Jay’s kitchen.”

Sunghoon raised his cup in a mock toast. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want to ruin the vibe.” Then he walked off, shoulders relaxed like the whole exchange hadn’t fazed him.

You spent the rest of the night glaring at the back of his head whenever he was in sight. He spent it pretending you didn’t exist—laughing with Jake and Heeseung, dancing lazily in the living room, letting some girl from your econ class hang on his arm for half a song before he politely shrugged her off.

By 1 a.m., the party had thinned. You stepped outside for air, sitting on the porch steps with your phone, trying to decide if you should just Uber home. Footsteps. Then that same tall shadow blocking the porch light.

“You stalking me now?” you asked without looking up.

“Dream on.” He sat on the step below yours, long legs stretched out, elbows on his knees. “Needed fresh air. Didn’t know you came with it.”

You snorted. “Charming.”

Silence. Not comfortable. Charged.

Then he surprised you. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t like people who act like the world owes them something.”

He turned his head slightly. Firelight from inside flickered across his face. “And what do I act like I’m owed?”

“Attention. Space. Everything.”

He was quiet for a beat. Then: “Maybe I’m just tired of people pretending they don’t notice me.”

You finally looked at him. Really looked. Under the arrogance was something else—something tired, almost lonely.

“Poor you,” you said, softer than you meant. “Must be hard being pretty and talented.”

His lips twitched. Almost a real smile. “It’s exhausting.”

Another beat.

You sighed. “I’m not trying to be a bitch. You just… rub me the wrong way.”

“Yeah?” He tilted his head. “You rub me the wrong way too.”

“Great. We agree on something.”

He laughed—quiet, surprised. “Guess we do.”

You both sat there for a while, listening to the muffled bass from inside, the occasional laugh spilling onto the lawn. Eventually he stood, offered you a hand up without saying anything.

You took it. His palm was warm, calloused from years on the ice. He pulled you to your feet easily, didn’t let go right away.

“Truce?” he asked.

You shrugged. “For tonight.”

He nodded once. “For tonight.”

Karina found you five minutes later, dragging you to the car. You didn’t tell her your hand still tingled where he’d touched it.

Two days later he showed up at the campus library during your shift. Hood up, mask on, carrying two iced Americanos. He set one in front of you without a word, then sat across the table like it was normal.

You stared at the cup. “What is this?”

“Peace offering. You looked like you needed caffeine more than attitude.”

You narrowed your eyes. “How’d you even know my shift?”

“Asked around.” He leaned back, arms crossed. “You gonna drink it or glare at it all day?”

You took a sip. Perfect. Of course it was. “This doesn’t mean I like you.”

“Didn’t think it did.”

But he stayed. Studied across from you for three hours. Every time you looked up, he was already looking at you—eyes softer than before.

Texts started that night.

Unknown number: Library girl. You study too hard. Take a break tomorrow. Coffee. My treat.

You: Who is this

Unknown number: The guy you hate but secretly don’t

You: Delete my number, Sunghoon

Sunghoon: Already saved yours. Night, stubborn.

You didn’t delete it.

The first “date” wasn’t even a date. Just coffee. Then ramen at 2 a.m. Then him walking you back to your dorm, shoulders brushing, neither of you saying goodnight right away.

The first kiss happened three weeks later—outside the rink after his late practice. You’d waited because he texted “come watch me fall on my ass for once.” You did. He didn’t fall. He skated like he was flying, then came off the ice sweaty and flushed, grabbed your face with cold hands, and kissed you like he’d been starving for it.

You kissed him back harder.

That night you ended up in his apartment—Jake conveniently “out with friends”—clothes scattered, his mouth everywhere, your nails down his back, both of you whispering filthy things between gasps.

“I fucking hate how much I want you,” he groaned against your throat.

“Then stop,” you panted, even as your legs wrapped tighter around him.

“Never.”

The sex was desperate. Angry. Perfect.

But the fights started soon after.

First one: over nothing. He didn’t text back for six hours because he was napping after practice. You accused him of ignoring you on purpose. He called you clingy. You hung up. He showed up at your door at midnight with your favorite hoodie he’d “stolen,” eyes red like he hadn’t slept.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice wrecked. “I’m an idiot.”

You let him in. Let him kiss you sorry. Let him fuck you slow and deep on your tiny dorm bed until you were both shaking and whispering “I love you” like it slipped out by accident.

It wasn’t an accident.

Karina saw the hickeys the next day and groaned. “You two are going to destroy each other.”

You laughed. “We’re fine.”

You weren’t.

Because the cycle had already started.

And neither of you knew how to stop.

The silence after that parking-lot fight lasted nine days.

Nine fucking days.

You’d never gone that long without talking to him before. Not even when you were fighting. Usually it was hours, maybe a day if one of you was really pissed. But nine? That was new territory. That was the kind of quiet that starts to feel like drowning.

You didn’t text first. He didn’t either.

You told yourself you were done. Really done this time. You deleted the chat thread (didn’t block him, though—couldn’t bring yourself to). You threw yourself into classes, picked up extra library shifts, went out with Karina and Ningning to every party you’d normally skip. You laughed too loud, drank too much, posted Instagram stories of neon lights and solo cups just to prove you were fine.

You weren’t fine.

Every notification made your heart lurch, hoping it was him. Every time it wasn’t, the ache got deeper. You kept replaying the fight in your head—the way his voice cracked on “maybe I should stop trying,” the way he kicked his own car like he wanted to break something that wasn’t you. You hated him for saying it. Hated yourself more for walking away instead of fighting harder.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon was a ghost.

He showed up to lectures (the ones you shared), sat three rows behind you, hood up, earbuds in, staring at the back of your head like it personally offended him. He didn’t speak. Didn’t wave. Just watched.

Jake told you later that Sunghoon barely slept those nine days. He’d come home from the rink at 2 a.m., collapse on the couch instead of his bed, scroll through your old photos until his eyes burned, then throw his phone across the room. He stopped eating properly—lived on protein shakes and spite. His skating got sloppy; coach yelled at him for the first time in months. He snapped at Jake over nothing. Snapped at Heeseung. Snapped at the vending machine when it ate his coins.

He was miserable.

On day ten, you cracked.

You were in the campus café—same one where he used to bring you americanos during your shifts—sitting alone with a cold latte and your laptop open to a paper you hadn’t touched in an hour. Rain tapped the windows. The place smelled like wet coats and burnt espresso.

The bell above the door jingled.

You didn’t look up at first.

Then you felt it—that prickling awareness, like the air shifted. You glanced over.

Sunghoon.

Black hoodie, damp from the rain, hair sticking to his forehead. Eyes bloodshot, cheeks hollower than they should be. He looked like he hadn’t slept since the fight. He stood just inside the doorway, hands shoved deep in his pockets, staring straight at you like the rest of the café didn’t exist.

Your heart slammed against your ribs so hard it hurt.

He took one step. Stopped. Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed closer.

You didn’t move.

He crossed the room anyway—slow, deliberate, like every step cost him something. Stopped at your table. Didn’t sit. Just stood there, dripping rainwater onto the floor.

His voice came out rough, barely above a whisper. “I can’t do this anymore.”

You swallowed. “Do what?”

“Pretend I don’t need you.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’ve been trying. For nine days. I can’t.”

You stared at your laptop screen, words blurring. “You said maybe you should stop trying.”

“I was angry. Hurt. Stupid.” He dragged a shaking hand through his wet hair. “I didn’t mean it. I never mean it when I say shit like that.”

“But you said it.”

“I know.” His voice cracked. “And every second since then has felt like dying.”

You finally looked up. His eyes were glassy—red-rimmed, desperate. The ice-prince mask was gone. This was just Sunghoon—raw, broken, terrified of losing you for real.

“I hate fighting with you,” he continued, quieter. “I hate how easy it is for me to say the worst thing when I’m scared. I hate that I make you cry. But most of all I hate being without you. These nine days? They were hell. Worse than any breakup we’ve had before. Because I knew I deserved it this time.”

Tears burned behind your eyes. You blinked them back.

He stepped closer, voice dropping even lower. “Tell me to leave. Tell me you’re done for good. And I’ll go. I’ll disappear. But if there’s even one percent of you that still wants this—wants us—I’m begging you, don’t make me walk out that door.”

Silence stretched. Rain louder now. Your heartbeat louder still.

You stood up slowly. Chair scraping. You were close enough to smell rain on his hoodie, cedarwood on his skin, the faint salt of tears he’d probably cried alone.

You reached out. Fingertips brushing his soaked sleeve.

He flinched like the touch burned—then leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut.

“I hate you sometimes,” you whispered.

“I know,” he breathed. “I hate me too.”

“But I love you more than I hate you.” Your voice broke. “And that’s the problem.”

His eyes snapped open. Hope flickered there—small, fragile.

You grabbed the front of his hoodie, yanked him down, and kissed him.

Hard.

Desperate.

Like you were trying to pour every miserable second of those nine days into his mouth so he’d understand.

He groaned—low, wrecked—arms banding around your waist so tight it stole your breath. He kissed you back like a man starved, tongue sliding against yours, hands sliding under your jacket to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. Rainwater soaked into your shirt. Neither of you cared.

Someone wolf-whistled. Someone else muttered “get a room.” You didn’t stop.

When you finally broke apart, foreheads pressed, both breathing ragged, he whispered against your lips: “I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I swear.”

You nodded, throat too tight to speak.

He kissed your temple. Your cheek. The corner of your eye where a tear had escaped. “Come home with me?”

You nodded again.

He took your hand—laced your fingers so tight it almost hurt—and led you out into the rain.

Back at his apartment, clothes hit the floor before the door even closed properly.

It wasn’t gentle.

It was frantic. Angry. Needy.

He pushed you against the wall just inside the entryway, mouth on your neck, teeth scraping, hands shoving your jeans down your thighs. You yanked his hoodie over his head, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks. He hissed, lifted you like you weighed nothing, carried you to his bed while you bit his shoulder to keep from moaning too loud.

He dropped you onto the mattress, crawled over you, eyes dark and wild. “Tell me you’re mine,” he growled, voice wrecked.

“I’m yours,” you gasped as he pushed inside you—slow at first, then deep, hard, making you arch. “Always yours.”

He fucked you like he was trying to erase the last nine days. Deep thrusts, hips snapping, one hand pinning yours above your head, the other between your thighs rubbing tight circles until you were shaking, crying his name, clenching around him so hard he cursed under his breath.

When you came, it was loud—head thrown back, nails digging into his shoulders, thighs trembling. He followed right after, burying his face in your neck, groaning your name like a prayer, spilling inside you with long, shuddering thrusts.

After, he didn’t pull out right away. Just stayed there, heavy and warm on top of you, breathing hard against your skin. You held him tighter than you ever had.

“I love you,” he mumbled into your collarbone. “So fucking much it scares me.”

You carded fingers through his damp hair. “I know. Me too.”

He kissed the spot over your heart. Soft this time. Reverent.

“I’m gonna try,” he whispered. “Really try. No more saying shit I don’t mean. No more walking away when I’m mad.”

You nodded, throat tight. “And I’ll try not to pick fights over nothing. I’ll… I’ll breathe first.”

He lifted his head, looked at you—really looked. Eyes soft, vulnerable.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

You fell asleep tangled together, rain still tapping the window, his heartbeat steady under your cheek.

For a while after that, things felt… better. Not perfect. But better.

He texted more. Showed up early to your study dates. Held your hand in public even when his friends teased him. You stopped jumping to conclusions when he was late from practice.

But the cracks were still there.

Waiting.

Because love like yours—intense, stubborn, all-consuming—doesn’t fix itself overnight.

And the next fight was already brewing.

The buildup had been slow poison.

Small things turned nuclear again.

A missed call again became “you don’t care.”

A late reply became “you’re talking to someone else.”

A joke about his skating schedule became “you love the ice more than me.”

You both kept score in silence—every slight, every sharp word, every time one of you stormed out and the other didn’t chase fast enough. Friends stopped asking “are you guys okay?” because the answer was always the same: “We’re fine.” Even when you weren’t.

This last one started over something so stupid it would’ve been laughable if it didn’t end in blood.

He’d promised to come over after practice. You had cooked—actual food, not instant ramen—because you wanted one normal night. Candles. His favorite playlist. You even wore the black lace set he loved, the one that made his eyes go dark and his hands greedy.

7 p.m. came and went.

8.

9.

You texted once. You: You coming? No reply.

10:14 p.m. – he finally messaged. Sunghoon: Practice ran over. Coach kept us late. Sorry. Heading home now, too tired. Rain check?

You stared at the screen until it blurred.

You didn’t reply.

Instead you blew out the candles, dumped the food in the trash, stripped off the lingerie like it burned you, and sat on the bathroom floor in just an oversized hoodie—his hoodie, because even when you hated him you couldn’t not smell like him.

The razor was in the drawer. Old. Forgotten. You hadn’t touched it in years.

But tonight the noise in your head was louder than ever.

He doesn’t want you. You’re too much. You’re always too much.

The first cut was shallow—just enough to feel something other than the ache in your chest. A thin red line across your inner forearm. It stung. You watched the blood bead, slow and bright.

Second cut. Deeper.

You didn’t cry. Not yet.

Third.

That’s when the shaking started.

You dropped the blade. It clattered against tile. Blood smeared on the hoodie sleeve, on the floor, on your thighs where you’d curled up.

Your phone buzzed on the counter. Sunghoon: I’m outside. Let me in. I changed my mind. I need to see you.

You didn’t move.

Another buzz. Sunghoon: Baby please. I’m sorry. Open the door.

Silence.

Then banging. Hard. Panicked.

“Open the fucking door!” His voice cracked through the wood. “I know you’re in there—I see the light under the door. Please—”

You stayed frozen.

More banging. Then the sound of him slamming his shoulder against it once, twice—

The lock gave.

He burst in, hair wild, jacket half-on, eyes frantic. He took one look at you on the floor, at the blood, at the razor glinting under the fluorescent light, and everything in him shattered.

“Oh god—no—no no no—”

He dropped to his knees in front of you so fast it echoed. Hands shaking, he grabbed your wrists—gentle but firm—turning your arms to see the damage. His breath hitched when he counted the lines.

“Baby… what did you do…” His voice broke completely. Tears spilled immediately, hot and fast down his cheeks. “Why—fuck—why didn’t you call me?”

You stared at him, numb. “You weren’t coming.”

“I’m here now.” He yanked off his hoodie, pressed the clean inside fabric to your cuts, trying to stop the bleeding. His hands were trembling so badly he could barely hold it. “I’m here. I’m not leaving. Look at me—please look at me.”

You did.

His face was wrecked—eyes swollen, nose red, lips trembling like a child’s. He looked smaller than you’d ever seen him.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so fucking sorry. I should’ve been here. I should’ve answered. I should’ve—god, I hate myself right now.”

You started crying then. Silent at first, then loud, ugly sobs that tore out of your chest. You lunged forward, crashing into him, arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. Blood smeared on his shirt. He didn’t care.

He held you so tight it hurt—in the best way. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other wrapped around your waist, rocking you both slowly on the cold tile floor.

“I love you,” he whispered over and over, voice raw. “I love you. I love you. Don’t ever think you’re alone in this again. I’m not going anywhere. Never again.”

You clung harder. “I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“Never.” He pulled back just enough to cup your face, thumbs wiping tears and blood indiscriminately. “You’re everything. You’re my fucking air. I was stupid—scared—trying to protect my own head instead of yours. But I’m done with that. I swear on my life, I’m done.”

He kissed your forehead. Your temple. Your tear-soaked cheeks. Then your mouth—soft, desperate, tasting like salt and regret and relief.

You kissed him back like he was oxygen.

He lifted you carefully, carried you to the bed like you were made of glass. Sat you down, grabbed the first-aid kit from under the sink, cleaned every cut with shaking hands, wrapped them in gauze, kissed the bandages when he was done.

Then he stripped down to boxers, climbed in beside you, pulled you into his chest until there was no space left between your bodies.

Skin on skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat.

He didn’t push for more at first. Just held you. Stroked your hair. Whispered apologies into your scalp until you stopped shaking.

But when your hand slid down his stomach, tentative, needy—he froze.

“Baby… you’re hurt. We don’t have to—”

“I need you,” you whispered against his throat. “Need to feel you. Need to know this is real.”

His breath hitched. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, fingers already tugging at his waistband.

He groaned low in his throat, flipped you gently so you were under him—careful of your arms—then kissed down your body like he was worshipping every inch. Slow. Reverent. When he reached between your thighs, he looked up, eyes dark and wet.

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

It wasn’t.

He ate you out like a man atoning with his tongue slow going in deliberate circles, two fingers curling inside you until your back arched and you were sobbing his name for a different reason. When you came, it was shattering, legs shaking, fingers tangled in his hair, tears slipping into your hairline.

He crawled back up, kissed you deep so you could taste yourself on him, then slid inside you inch by inch, slow, careful, eyes locked on yours the whole time.

“Feel me?” he breathed, bottoming out, hips flush. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving.”

You wrapped your legs around him, nails in his back, not scratching, just holding. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

He fucked you slow at first—deep, rolling thrusts that made you gasp every time he hit that spot. Then harder when you begged. Faster when you cried “more.” Until the bedframe knocked the wall and neither of you cared who heard.

When you came again, clenching around him, he buried his face in your neck and followed—long, shuddering thrusts, spilling inside you with a broken moan of your name.

After, he didn’t pull out.

Just stayed buried deep, softening inside you, arms locked around your back, your wrapped arms around his neck.

You both cried again—quiet this time. Cleansing.

“I’m getting help,” you whispered eventually. “Therapy. Whatever it takes.”

He nodded against your shoulder. “Me too. We do this together. No more running. No more hurting each other to feel something.”

You pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Promise?”

“On my fucking life.”

He kissed the bandages on your arms one by one.

Then your lips—soft, lingering, full of forever.

Outside, the rain finally stopped.

Inside, for the first time in months, the silence wasn’t screaming.

It was peaceful.

And you both fell asleep like that—tangled, sticky, safe.

No more cycles.

Just the two of you, finally choosing each other over the fight.

The End. ♡

Author: If you ever want an epilogue, just say the word, baby. I’m here.

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[heesvnqie]

Could you do Jake is your sisters Husband and there has always been tension between you two, one day you hear them arguing and your sister doesn’t want to sleep with him anymore because his size hurts her too much, so being the best sister in law you let him use you whenever he needs

author: oh my god- this idea got me awake at night. i finished writing it at 2:32 AM.

Raw. Real. Yours.

pairing: fem!reader x shim!jaeyun(jake) word count: 4.3k+ genre: romance, smut, marriage au warnings: >> sister's husband to sister's ex-husband to your husband, angst, fight, smut,cussing, biting/marking, fingering, begging, size kink, dom!jake x sub!reader, unprotected sex (a big NO-NO), overstimulation, creampie, manhandling. petnames synopsis: when your sister argues and divorces her husband because his size hurts her too much, so being the best sister in law you let him use you whenever he needs and maybe end up marrying him?

Jake wasn’t the kind of man you noticed right away.

Not in the loud, flashy way some guys demanded attention. He was quieter than that. Taller than most, sure—six-three, broad through the shoulders—but he carried it easy, almost lazy. Like he knew exactly how much space he took up and didn’t need to prove it. Dark hair that always looked a little too long at the ends, curling against the nape of his neck when it got humid. Hazel eyes that caught light funny, turning almost gold when he was amused. And that slow, crooked smile—never wide, never showing teeth unless he really meant it. When he did, it felt like a secret being handed to you.

He met your older sister Jiwon in Busan during one of her rare weekends off. She was twenty-eight then, already a senior resident in emergency medicine, always moving too fast, always fixing things. Jake was thirty, working remote as a freelance structural engineer—mostly high-rises in Seoul and occasional overseas contracts. They matched on some app neither of them would admit to using anymore. First date was coffee that turned into soju that turned into her dragging him to a noraebang at 2 a.m. because she refused to go home sober and alone.

Six months later they were engaged. Nine months after that, married in a small ceremony on Jeju—white dress, black suit, your parents crying, you standing beside Jiwon in pale lavender trying not to feel like the spare part.

You were twenty-three at the wedding. Still finishing your master’s in urban planning at Yonsei. Broke, restless, living in the same old Gangnam apartment your parents had bought years ago when property prices were merely insane instead of apocalyptic. After the honeymoon, Jiwon and Jake moved back into that same three-bedroom place—temporarily, they said. Just until they found something bigger. Something permanent.

“Temporarily” stretched into eighteen months.

You stayed because rent in Seoul was murder and you liked the commute to campus. They stayed because the guest room was already furnished and Jiwon’s shifts were brutal and Jake traveled too much to care about hunting for a new lease.

That’s how it started. All three of you under one roof. One bathroom. One too-small kitchen. One hallway that felt narrower every time Jake passed you.

He was polite at first. Called you “kid” sometimes, even though you were only five years younger than Jiwon. Teased you about your late-night ramyeon binges and the way you left textbooks open on the couch like traps. You teased back—about his terrible taste in beer, about how he always forgot to close the balcony door and let mosquitoes in.

But underneath the banter something else was growing. Slow. Patient. Like mold you don’t notice until the whole wall smells wrong.

You caught him watching you once while you stretched in the living room after a run—tank top riding up, sweat darkening the fabric between your shoulder blades. He was on the couch with his laptop, pretending to work. His eyes didn’t move when you glanced over. Just held. Steady. Unapologetic.

You didn’t call him out. You just bent a little deeper into the stretch.

Another time you came out of the shower in nothing but a towel knotted loose at your chest. Hair dripping. Skin still hot from the water. He was in the kitchen pouring coffee. Jiwon was already at the hospital.

He froze for half a second—long enough for you to notice—then turned back to the counter like nothing happened.

“Morning,” he said, voice a little rougher than usual.

“Morning.” You reached past him for a mug, letting your arm brush his. Barely. Just enough.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t step away.

You poured the coffee. Took a sip. Looked at him over the rim.

He looked back.

Nothing was said.

Nothing needed to be.

Weeks passed like that. Small collisions. Lingering looks. The way his hand would graze your lower back when he squeezed past you in the narrow hallway. The way you’d wear thinner camis to sleep when you knew he’d be up late working in the living room. The way he started leaving his bedroom door cracked when Jiwon was on night shift, like an invitation he’d never voice.

Then the fights started.

Not big ones. Not yet. Just tight silences. Sharp sighs. Jiwon coming home exhausted, Jake waiting up, both of them too tired to pretend everything was fine.

You heard pieces through the wall.

“You’re never here,” he’d say.

“I’m saving lives, Jake.”

“And I’m just… what? Waiting?”

“I didn’t ask you to wait.”

One night it got worse.

You were in bed, lights off, scrolling your phone with the volume low. Their voices carried anyway.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Jiwon said. Quiet. Tired. “Every time we try, it hurts too much. I’m sore for days.”

Jake’s reply was low, almost gentle. “I’m careful. I go slow.”

“Not slow enough.” A pause. “You’re… you’re just too big. It’s not— I can’t relax. I can’t enjoy it.”

Silence. Long enough that your pulse started to thud in your ears.

“So what?” he finally asked. “You want me to stop asking?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice cracked. “Maybe. For a while. I just… need a break from feeling like I’m being split open.”

Another silence.

Then his footsteps. Heavy. Coming toward the hallway.

Your door was closed. You held your breath anyway.

He didn’t knock.

He just stood outside for a long minute—you could feel him there, the weight of him on the other side of the wood.

Then he walked away.

Back to their room.

Back to her.

But you knew—somewhere deep and dark and honest—that he’d come back.

Not tonight.

Maybe not tomorrow.

But soon.

And when he did, he wouldn’t be asking Jiwon.

The next few weeks felt like walking on a frozen lake—every step careful, every crack louder than the last.

Jiwon started sleeping in the guest room some nights. Not every night, but enough that you noticed. She’d say it was because her alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. and she didn’t want to wake Jake. You knew better. The wall between your room and theirs didn’t lie. The bed didn’t creak anymore. No muffled gasps. No low groans. Just silence, thick as smoke.

Jake didn’t complain. At least not out loud.

He just got quieter. Sharper around the edges. The easy smiles came less often. When they did, they never quite reached his eyes.

But he still looked at you.

Longer now. Bolder.

Mornings became the worst—or the best, depending on how honest you were willing to be with yourself.

Jiwon would leave before dawn, scrubs on, hair in a messy bun, kissing Jake’s cheek like muscle memory. The front door would click shut. Then it was just the two of you in the apartment waking up slow.

You started making coffee earlier. Not because you needed it. Because you knew he’d come padding out in those low gray sweatpants, no shirt, hair sleep-mussed, scratching absently at the trail of dark hair that disappeared below his waistband.

First time it happened after the fight, you were at the counter pouring. He walked up behind you—close. Not touching. But close enough that the heat of his body brushed your back like a promise.

“Morning,” he murmured. Voice still thick with sleep.

You didn’t turn around right away. Just kept pouring. “Morning.”

His arm reached past you for a mug. Bicep flexed. Forearm corded. You felt the ghost of his chest against your shoulder blades for half a second before he stepped back.

You turned then.

He was already leaning against the opposite counter, mug in hand, watching you over the rim like you were the only thing worth looking at.

“You sleep okay?” he asked.

The question was innocent. The tone wasn’t.

You shrugged. Let your thin sleep-tee slip off one shoulder. “Well enough.”

His eyes dropped to the bare skin. Lingered. Then dragged back up to your face.

“Good,” he said quietly.

That was it. No more words. Just that look. Like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth. The way your nipples had hardened under the cotton from the cold air and his stare.

You walked past him to the fridge. Brushed his hip with yours. Deliberate. Slow.

He didn’t move. Just inhaled through his nose like he was trying not to growl.

Nights were different.

When Jiwon was on shift, the apartment felt bigger. Emptier. Dangerous.

He’d work late in the living room, laptop open, but his eyes kept flicking to the hallway. To your door. You’d leave it cracked sometimes. Just an inch. Enough for the warm light from your bedside lamp to spill out. Enough for him to hear the soft rustle when you shifted under the sheets.

One night you couldn’t sleep. Too hot. Too restless. You kicked the covers off, lay on your back in just panties, thin tank pushed up under your breasts. Window open. City noise drifting in.

You heard him before you saw him.

Bare feet on hardwood. Slow. Careful.

He stopped in the doorway.

Didn’t come in.

Just stood there, half in shadow, sweatpants tented obviously now—no hiding it. Arms crossed over his bare chest like he was holding himself back.

You didn’t cover up.

You just looked at him.

He looked back.

Long minutes passed. Neither of you spoke.

Then he finally said, voice low and wrecked, “You’re making this hard.”

You tilted your head. Let your legs fall open just a fraction. Enough that the cotton between your thighs pulled tight, outlining everything.

“Am I?” you whispered.

His jaw ticked. He took one step inside the room—then stopped again. Like crossing that threshold would break something neither of you could fix.

“I told myself I wouldn’t,” he said. Almost to himself.

You sat up slowly. Tank slipping higher. Breasts barely covered now.

“Wouldn’t what?”

His eyes were black in the low light. “Touch what isn’t mine.”

You stood. Walked toward him. Stopped when your toes touched his.

“But it’s hurting her,” you said softly. “And you’re hurting too.”

He exhaled hard through his nose. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” You lifted your hand. Let your fingertips brush the center of his chest—just once. Light. Teasing. “Don’t notice how hard you get every time I walk past you in shorts? Don’t notice how you stare when I bend over? Don’t notice that you haven’t fucked your wife in weeks and you’re losing your mind?”

His hand shot out—fast—caught your wrist. Not hard. Just firm.

“Don’t say it like that,” he rasped.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re offering.”

You stepped closer. Close enough that your breasts brushed his forearms. Close enough to feel how hot he was. How hard.

“I’m not offering,” you lied. “I’m just… here.”

His grip tightened for a second. Then loosened. Thumb stroking the inside of your wrist like he couldn’t help it.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he said quietly.

“I think I do.”

He let go of your wrist. Stepped back. One step. Two.

“I’m not doing this tonight,” he said. Voice shaking just enough to betray him. “Not like this. Not when I’m this fucking wound up.”

You didn’t chase him.

Just watched him back out of the doorway.

But before he turned away, he looked at you one last time—eyes dragging down your body like he was starving.

“Lock your door tomorrow night,” he said. “If you don’t want me to come back.”

He disappeared down the hall.

You stood there, heart hammering, thighs slick, nipples aching.

You didn’t lock the door.

Not that night.

Not the next.

And every night after that, the crack in the door got a little wider.

Three weeks after that night in your doorway—three weeks of locked stares, brushed touches that lasted too long, doors left deliberately cracked—everything cracked open.

It happened on a Thursday. Jiwon came home early for once. No scrubs, no exhaustion dragging her shoulders. She looked… lighter. Decided.

You were in the kitchen making tea when she walked in. Jake was already there, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching you pour hot water like the motion was the most interesting thing in the world.

Jiwon didn’t sit. She stood in the doorway, purse still on her shoulder.

“I want a divorce,” she said. No preamble. No tears. Just calm. Final.

Jake didn’t flinch. Just nodded once, slow. “Yeah. I figured.”

You froze, mug halfway to your lips.

Jiwon looked at him—really looked. Not angry. Not sad. Tired, maybe. Relieved.

“I met someone,” she said quietly. “At the hospital. A cardiologist. He’s… kind. Patient. He doesn’t make me feel like I’m failing every time we’re in bed.”

Jake exhaled through his nose. Not surprised. Not hurt. Just… done.

“You love him?” he asked.

“I could.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I want to try.”

Silence stretched. Thick. Final.

Then Jiwon turned to you.

“You should know too,” she said. “I’m moving out next week. Found a place in Itaewon. Small, but mine.”

Your mouth went dry. “Okay.”

She gave you a small, tired smile. “I know things have been… weird here. Between all of us. I’m not blind.” Her eyes flicked to Jake, then back to you. “Just… be careful. He’s not gentle when he stops pretending.”

She didn’t wait for a reply. Just walked past you both, down the hall, into the bedroom to start packing.

Jake stayed exactly where he was. Eyes on you.

You set the mug down. Hands shaking just enough to notice.

“She’s leaving,” you whispered.

“She is.”

“And you’re… okay with that?”

He pushed off the counter. Slow steps toward you until he was close enough that you had to tilt your head back.

“I’ve been okay with it for months,” he said low. “The only thing keeping me here was the roof. And you.”

Your breath hitched.

He reached out. Tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Thumb lingered on your jaw.

“She’s gone next week,” he murmured. “Until then… we wait.”

You waited four days.

Four days of Jiwon packing boxes in silence. Four days of Jake sleeping on the couch. Four days of you catching his eyes every time you passed—dark, patient, burning.

On the fifth night—Friday—she was out with her new someone. Dinner. Drinks. Staying over, she’d said casually over breakfast.

The apartment was empty except for the two of you.

You didn’t bother with pretense.

You wore the black lace thong you’d bought on impulse two weeks ago. Nothing else. Walked out of your room like that—barefoot, hair loose, nipples already tight from the cool air and anticipation.

He was in the living room. Lights low. Shirt off. Sweatpants slung dangerously low. Cock already half-hard under the fabric when he saw you.

He didn’t speak. Just stood.

You walked straight to him. Stopped when your breasts brushed his chest.

“Jiwon’s not coming back tonight,” you said softly.

“I know.”

“Then stop waiting.”

That was all it took.

His mouth crashed into yours—hard, hungry, no gentleness left. Tongue pushing past your lips, claiming. Hands gripping your waist so tight you knew there’d be marks tomorrow. He lifted you like you weighed nothing, legs wrapping around his hips on instinct.

He carried you to their bedroom.

Not yours.

Theirs.

Threw you onto the bed where he used to fuck your sister. The sheets still smelled faintly of her perfume.

He didn’t care.

He shoved his sweatpants down. Cock sprang free—heavy, thick, veined, already leaking at the tip. Bigger than any toy you’d ever taken. Bigger than you’d let yourself fully imagine.

You spread your legs without being asked. Thong soaked through. He ripped it off with one hard tug—fabric tearing like paper.

No fingers. No prep. He just lined up and pushed in—slow at first, letting you feel every thick inch stretching you open. Your back arched. A sharp cry tore from your throat—pain and pleasure so tangled you couldn’t tell them apart.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “So tight. Been dreaming about this cunt for years.”

He bottomed out with a grunt. Held there. Let you adjust. Then pulled back almost all the way—only to slam back in. Hard.

You screamed into the pillow.

He fucked you like he’d been holding back forever. Deep, punishing strokes. Bed creaking. Headboard knocking the wall. Wet slap of skin on skin filling the room.

“Look at me,” he growled.

You did. Eyes watering. Mouth open.

He leaned down, forearm braced beside your head, other hand gripping your throat—not choking, just holding. Possessive.

“You feel that?” he rasped, grinding deep, circling his hips so the base of his cock dragged against your clit. “That’s what she couldn’t take. But you—you’re taking every fucking inch like you were made for it.”

You clenched around him. Hard. Soaked. Dripping down your ass.

He flipped you over. Ass up. Face pressed to the mattress that still smelled like Jiwon.

He slapped your ass once—sharp, stinging. Then again. Harder.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“Say what?” you gasped.

“Say you’re better than her. Say this pussy was made for my cock.”

You moaned into the sheets. “I’m better. Fuck— I’m so much better. This cunt’s yours. Only yours.”

He rewarded you with a brutal thrust. Then another. Pounding so deep you felt him in your stomach.

He reached around. Rough fingers on your clit. Rubbing fast. Mean.

“Come,” he snarled against your ear. “Come on the cock your sister couldn’t handle. Come while I fill you up where she used to sleep.”

You shattered.

Sobbing. Shaking. Walls pulsing around him so tight he cursed. Legs trembling. Vision white.

He didn’t stop.

Fucked you through it. Harder. Faster. Until his rhythm broke.

“Gonna come inside you,” he warned. “Gonna mark this pussy. Make it mine.”

“Do it,” you begged. “Please—fill me. Breed me. Make me yours.”

He buried himself deep with a guttural groan. Cock pulsing. Hot, thick spurts flooding you. So much it leaked out around him, dripping down your thighs.

He stayed inside you after. Softening slowly. Still twitching.

Leaned down. Kissed the back of your neck. Almost tender.

“Whenever I want,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “Whenever I need. This cunt opens for me. Understand?”

You nodded. Still trembling. Full of him. Aching in the best way.

“Yes.”

He pulled out slow. Watched his cum leak from you. Smiled—dark, satisfied.

Then he rolled you onto your back. Spread your legs again.

Lowered his head.

“Taste us,” he said.

And licked a slow stripe up your dripping slit—tongue collecting every drop of himself mixed with you.

You came again on his mouth. Softer this time. Shivering.

When he finally lifted his head, lips shiny, he kissed you. Let you taste it all.

“Jiwon’s gone,” he whispered against your mouth. “This house is ours now.”

You smiled. Small. Dirty. Happy.

“Good.”

He fucked you twice more that night.

Once in the shower.

Once bent over the kitchen counter at 3 a.m.

Each time harder. Deeper. Claiming.

And every time he came inside you, he whispered the same thing,“Mine.”

Six months after Jiwon moved out.

The divorce was quiet. No screaming. No lawyers tearing each other apart. Papers signed in a small Gangnam office with beige walls and bad coffee. Jiwon wore a simple white blouse and smiled when she handed the pen back—like she was finally exhaling after holding her breath for years.

Jake didn’t fight her for anything. He kept the apartment. She took half the savings and the car. They hugged once—awkward, polite, the way exes do when the love’s long gone but the history isn’t.

You stood in the hallway outside the office, waiting. When they came out, Jiwon looked at you for a long second.

“You’re happy?” she asked. Not accusing. Just… curious.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

She glanced at Jake, then back at you. “Then I’m happy too.”

She left without another word. Her heels clicked down the corridor until the sound disappeared.

Jake walked over. Slid his hand into yours. Fingers interlocking like they’d always belonged there.

“Ready to go home?” he asked.

You squeezed his hand. “More than ready.”

Three weeks later you married him.

Not big. Not flashy. Just the two of you, a small hanok in Bukchon, late autumn leaves turning the courtyard gold. You wore cream silk—no veil, just your hair loose and a thin gold band on your finger that matched his. He wore black. Simple suit. No tie. When he looked at you walking toward him, his eyes went dark and soft at the same time—like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

Vows were short.

“I promise to take everything you give me,” he said, voice low enough that only you could hear the edge in it. “And give you everything you can take.”

You smiled. Dirty. Sweet.

“I promise to open for you,” you answered. “Whenever. However. No limits.”

The officiant cleared his throat. You both laughed quietly.

Rings slid on. Kiss was slow. Deep. His hand on the small of your back, pressing you flush against him so you could feel how hard he already was under the suit pants.

Guests—only a handful of close friends—clapped. Someone whistled. You didn’t care.

You were his wife now.

Legally. Officially. Irrevocably.

That night the apartment felt different.

Jiwon’s things were long gone. The bedroom smelled like fresh linen and your perfume mixed with his cologne. The bed was made with new sheets—black satin, because he’d smirked when you picked them out and said, “These are gonna look so fucking good bunched around your wrists.”

You didn’t make it past the front door.

He kicked it shut behind you both. Pushed you against the wall the second your heels hit the entry mat.

Mouth on yours. Hands everywhere. Yanking the zipper of your dress down so fast the fabric tore a little at the seam. He didn’t apologize. Just shoved it off your shoulders until it pooled at your feet.

You were bare underneath. No bra. No panties. Just thigh-high stockings and the thin gold chain around your waist he’d given you as a wedding gift that morning.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your throat. “My wife.”

He lifted you. Legs around his waist. Carried you straight to the bedroom—same bed, different life.

Threw you down. Not gentle.

You bounced once. Spread your legs on instinct.

He stripped fast. Jacket. Shirt. Pants. Boxers last. Cock springing free—already thick, veined, dripping. Harder than you’d ever seen it. Like the ring on his finger had flipped some switch.

He crawled over you. Caged you with his arms.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

You did.

He pushed in slow this time. Torturously slow. Letting you feel every ridge, every inch stretching your walls until he was seated so deep you felt him against your cervix.

You gasped. Back arching.

“Too much?” he asked, voice rough.

You shook your head frantically. “More.”

He grinned—dark, possessive.

Then he fucked you like a husband fucks his wife on their wedding night.

Hard. Deep. Relentless.

Every thrust punched the breath from your lungs. Bed creaking. Headboard slamming. Your nails raking down his back hard enough to draw blood—he hissed and fucked you harder for it.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say who you belong to.”

“You,” you sobbed. “My husband. My fucking husband.”

He flipped you onto your stomach. Pulled your hips up. Slapped your ass—once, twice, three times—each one leaving a red handprint.

“Whose cunt is this?”

“Yours,” you cried. “Only yours. Always yours.”

He slammed back in. Deeper angle now. Hitting that spot that made stars burst behind your eyes.

He reached around. Fingers on your clit. Rubbing fast. Rough. Mean.

“Come for your husband,” he commanded. “Come on the cock that’s gonna fill you every fucking night from now on.”

You shattered.

Screaming his name. Walls clamping down so tight he groaned like he was in pain. Legs shaking. Toes curling. Vision blurring.

He didn’t stop.

Fucked you through the aftershocks. Faster. Sloppier. Chasing his own release.

“Gonna come inside my wife,” he rasped. “Gonna breed this married pussy. Put a baby in you tonight.”

The thought sent another wave through you—smaller, sharper, milking him.

He buried himself to the hilt. Cock pulsing. Hot, thick ropes flooding you. So much it leaked out around him, dripping onto the sheets.

He stayed inside after. Chest heaving. Forehead pressed to your shoulder.

“Mine,” he whispered. Kissed the back of your neck. “My wife.”

You turned your head. Found his mouth. Kissed him slow. Lazy. Full of him.

“Yours,” you murmured. “Forever.”

He pulled out eventually. Watched his cum leak from you with a satisfied hum.

Then he rolled you onto your back. Spread your thighs again.

Lowered his head.

“Taste what we made,” he said.

And licked into you—slow, thorough, tongue scooping every drop of himself mixed with your wetness.

You came again on his mouth. Softer. Trembling.

When he finally crawled back up, he kissed you deep—letting you taste the mess you’d made together.

“First night of forever,” he said against your lips.

You smiled. Wrapped your legs around him. Pulled him closer.

“Fuck me again, husband.”

He laughed—low, dark, happy.

And did.

All night.

Until the sun came up.

Until the sheets were ruined.

Until you were both sore, marked, sated.

Husband and wife.

No more pretending.

No more waiting.

Just this.

Raw. Real. Yours.

@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

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