homework and heart | yeon sieun x neighbour!reader
summary: yeon sieun is just trying to get through a study session without losing his sanity, but his lifelong neighbor makes that impossible—armed with sarcasm, zero personal space boundaries, and a habit of falling asleep on his arm mid-math problem. they argue like enemies, act like friends, and care like something they won’t admit.
author's note: i just know sieun would treat his girl like a delicate flower. everything about him (apart from his psycho tendencies) screams gentleman. the reader is sort of a tsundere or something. wrote this while listening to [ My Love Mine All mine - Mitski] . requests
“your handwriting looks like a drunk spider fell in love with a pen,” she said, peering over si-eun’s shoulder.
si-eun didn’t glance up. “you’ve said that before.”
“yeah, and it hasn’t improved.”
“you’re here for math help, not calligraphy critique.”
“i’m here for the free heating,” she declared, collapsing onto his bed like it owed her rent. “your floor heating is elite. i feel like a warm croissant.”
si-eun exhaled through his nose. “you’re supposed to finish the worksheet i gave you.”
“you’re supposed to stop being a fun vacuum,” she shot back, flipping onto her stomach and burying her face in his pillow. “why do you smell like laundry detergent and sad?”
he ignored that. “that’s page two. the functions review.”
she groaned into the pillow, her voice muffled. “why are you like this?”
“efficient?”
“emotionally unbothered.”
“that’s not a flaw.”
“it is when your only reaction to my suffering is to hand me a pencil.”
she sat up and tossed said pencil at him. he caught it midair without even turning his head.
“show-off,” she muttered.
“you threw it with the force of a butterfly.”
“rude. accurate, but rude.”
they sat in silence for a moment—her pretending to work, him actually working—until she groaned again and fell dramatically across the table, narrowly missing his open notebook.
“i give up. i’m becoming a flower shop cashier. i’ll name the succulents and everything.”
“you hate plants.”
“they hate me first. it’s mutual.”
“finish number five.”
“no.”
sieun said her name.
“make me.”
he leaned back in his chair, expression flat. “do your homework.”
she leaned forward, matching his energy. “make me.”
their faces were inches apart now, eyes locked in a silent, petty standoff.
“childish,” he murmured.
“lifeless.”
“stubborn.”
“robotic.”
“you still haven’t moved.”
“you blinked first.”
“that’s not how this works.”
“says who?”
“says logic.”
she rolled her eyes and dramatically scribbled on the worksheet. “there. number five. happy?”
he checked it. “that’s number six.”
“i hate you.”
“good. now do five.”
she cursed under her breath, then muttered, “you better carry my backpack at my funeral.”
“you won’t need a backpack if you fail this class.”
“then you better carry my coffin. same energy.”
si-eun glanced at her, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
she caught it and pointed. “there. you smiled. admit you like me.”
“i smiled because you said something dumb.”
“same thing.”
they didn’t look at each other after that. not directly, anyway. but she was quietly doing question five, and si-eun casually slid a bag of her favorite snacks across the table like it didn’t mean anything.
like always.
she got up without warning and dropped beside his chair, her chin resting on his arm, body invading his space like it was natural law.
“you need a break,” she muttered.
“you’re distracting.”
“good.”
he didn’t pull away. just let her stay there, still scribbling notes while her cheek pressed against the sleeve of his hoodie.
“you’re going to smudge the ink,” he murmured.
she shrugged. “you’ll rewrite it for me anyway.”
“that’s not how this works.”
she smirked. “isn’t it?”
they stayed like that, the sound of pen on paper and her breathing settling into rhythm.
she, of course, fell asleep fifteen minutes later. head still leaning against his arm, mouth slightly open, clumsy as ever.
si-eun didn’t move.
he just kept writing with one hand, while the other lightly tugged the blanket from the bed to drape over her shoulders.
outside, the sky finally decided to rain.
inside, there was peace—chaotic, uneven, stubborn peace. the kind only the two of them could create. the kind that made sense even when nothing else did.
warnings: fluff! smut! mdni! i am not responsible for the media you consume! enjoy!💗
𑣲⋆ doesn’t really know how to gift gifts. he doesn’t really understand the meaning of gifting flowers when he can pre-order you the newest update for your laptop
𑣲⋆ this guy genuinely has anger issues. frequent outbursts that lead to yelling for no reason.
𑣲⋆ he’s definitely an argument starter :P he’s soooooo toxic, like, he’d take all of his anger out on you. victimizes himself. cries after arguing and when he sees you cry, he’s all like “oh so i’m the problem now??”
𑣲⋆ canon but if you take a while to respond, he WILL track your location. picture this— you’re out with your friends, you don’t see allen’s texts and when you finally open the chat you see 1000 messages from him. half of them are screenshots that he took from the city cameras that he hacked, seeing yourself in them
𑣲⋆ he’s a cat dad prove me otherwise :cc he treats the kitty like she’s his actual daughter
𑣲⋆ hot take but yall met on discord and you were his e-girl at first. he’s just that guy. cannot do irl interactions
𑣲⋆ he is generally a very messy person. his room his a mess. don’t get me started on that desk boi😹 dirty socks in the kitchen, leaves trash wherever he goes… and he’d expect you to clean after him. gets mad if you don’t
𑣲⋆ i feel like he’s a very anxious person
𑣲⋆ besides the anger issues and the arguments stuff, i feel like he’s a very soft boyfriend. he’s gentle with you. his ideal date nights are playing on his switch while eating the unhealthiest foods ever
𑣲⋆ sends you memes😭 they’re so unfunny but you don’t have the heart to tell him so you just reply to every one
𑣲⋆ he lowkey smokes a lot of weed. you two have your own sessions late at night, smoking while kissing or watching a movie or sum
𑣲⋆ he LOVES head scratches. if he could die right there, he would.
𑣲⋆ always asks you to paint his nails! black mostly, but won’t interfere if you wanna do glitter pink this time
nsfw!
𑣲⋆ he would ask for nudes 24/7. if you say that you’re busy, he’d spam your phone with :(( emojis
𑣲⋆ loves when you give him a blowjob under the desk while he does his computer work or simply games. it’s like the peak point of maximum pleasure for him
𑣲⋆ cums quickly. doesn’t last that long :cc
𑣲⋆ OH HE’S A WHINEEEER. you CANNOT prove me otherwise. he whines in your ear all. the. time. moans too but the WHINESSSS.
𑣲⋆ he lowkey submissive👀 like yesssss queen take care of him while he’s under you whining like a pillow princess. he once gathered the courage to slap your ass while backshots. he got so embarrassed he never did it again😭
𑣲⋆ blabbers A LOT of nasty, slurred shit when he’s about to cum. his thoughts aren’t clear and he just says whatever comes to his mind from immense pleasure
𑣲⋆ hear me out— he’s a head pusher😍
𑣲⋆ fav positions are cowgirl, riding… any position that requires for you to be on top
𑣲⋆ has a HUGEEEE praise kink. degradation too?👀
𑣲⋆ okay listen… would send you videos of him jerking himself with sound on at like 12pm🧍🏻♀️sends them at the mostttt random times ever.
𑣲⋆ a lil cute scenario, i think that he’d adore when you sit on his lap with a cutie lingerie set on while he’s gaming. grinds against you like a bunny in heat too. would edge like that until he loses his temper and fucks you there lol (the lace set stays on…)
𑣲⋆ he’s 100% a ‘wrap it before you tap it’ guy. he stands by the statement that sex without a condom feels better, but cannot think of a baby right now with all the pressure he has. so he prefers to be safe
৻ꪆ bonus— after y’all started dating, he admitted to hacking your phone camera while you guys were in a situationship. he watched you and jerked off to you. you should have been creeped out, but… were you?
ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃 a/n— hey guys!🪷 this is a little something to keep you guys entertained while i work on the bigger allen project😚 i have like three allen requests rn so i’ll be working one by one while keeping up with the cortis updates as well hehe :PP
ᥫ᭡.ִֶָ𓂃 i’m also sick right now guys so please understand that i may be working a little slower😣 excuse my grammar! i hope this doesn’t flop lol😭
✿ taglist!! @coupsdomiwife 💗 @d1seongjeglazer 💗 ⤶ currently working on their request hehe :p
Failure Has Consequences - Park Seung-Tae x F!Reader
“Ah,” he murmured, voice dark with satisfaction. “You look so good like this.”
His free hand curled possessively around my hip. “So when I ask you to do something,” he whispered, his tone now hushed and dangerous. “I expect it done. Got it?"
content warning - dark!Seungtae, blackmail, non-consensual and dubiously consensual situations, hair pulling, bruising, humiliation kink, and accidental interruption by a third party. This story contains coercive behavior, manipulation, aggressive physical contact, explicit sexual themes, emotional pressure, and psychologically intense dynamics throughout.
word count : 5.7k
I remember the quiet. That’s what struck me first. The library was mostly empty. Just the hum of the air conditioner, a distant page turning, and the occasional click of a librarian’s keyboard. I walked between the stacks, eyes focused ahead, trying not to look at him. But he was already watching.
Seung-tae sat at the back table, his chair tilted, one arm resting lazily across the back of another. He didn’t call out. He just waited. And when I passed by, he stood up. He walked behind me, closing the distance with silent steps. I felt him before I saw him. The brush of air, the stillness that came with his presence.
“Stop,” he said softly. I went still. His hand reached out, brushed my hair back from my shoulder. He let his fingers linger at the ends, twirling one strand around his index finger before letting it fall.
I was too stunned to speak. His hand moved again, slower this time, until his fingers slid beneath my chin. He tilted it up. Firm. Not rough. Just enough to make me look at him. Our eyes met. “You’re going to the library with Mr. Kim tomorrow,” he said, voice low. “Aren’t you?” I blinked. He smirked, like he already knew the answer.
“I told him you’d help him organize those files. Said you volunteered.” He leaned in, voice brushing my ear. “You’ll be alone. Cameras don’t work on that floor.” My insides twisted.
He stepped back just slightly and looked me over. Then reached for the front of my uniform. His fingers smoothed the lapel, straightened the collar. His knuckles grazed my chest—just enough to make me flinch. “You’ll cry,” he said, like he was listing instructions. “Scratch yourself if you have to. Tell the principal he touched you.”
I remember staring at him. He tilted his head. “If you don’t,” he said, voice like ice, “that magazine? The one in my bag? I’ll say it was yours. That you put it there.” My lips parted. I was about to say something, anything, but he pressed a finger to them. Silencing me.
“You’re good at playing scared,” he said. “So play your part.” Then he let his hand drop. And smiled. “You don’t want to find out what I’ll do if you don’t.” He turned and walked away. I felt trapped in my own body. The library felt colder. Smaller. Like there was no way out.
I did exactly what he told me to. I told Mr. Kim I’d volunteered to help organize the school’s admin files. That I didn’t mind staying late. That I liked keeping things in order. He looked at me for a moment too long. “You volunteered?” he asked, a flicker of something unreadable behind his eyes. “Of course,” I said. “Didn’t the office tell you?” He hesitated. “No, they didn’t.”
We walked in silence. I could feel the way his eyes kept flicking over to me, like he was trying to match my words to my expression, and nothing was lining up. When we reached the library, he paused at the doorway. “You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You’ve been… quiet.” “I’m fine,” I lied, my voice too light. “Just tired.” He didn’t answer. Still, he followed me inside.
That’s when I let it all unravel. The scream tore from my throat, loud and raw and jagged. My fingers fumbled at the buttons of my shirt, tugging them open. I ran my hands through my hair, pulled at it until it stood wild. My chest heaved. I stumbled back out of the room, sobbing. Loud. Messy. Behind me, Mr. Kim called my name softly. Unsure. He didn’t follow immediately. He stood in the doorway like he’d walked into the wrong dream.
Out into the hall, stumbling, breath coming in jagged bursts. I didn’t have to fake the panic it was already there, just from being part of this. From knowing what Seung-tae would do if I didn’t. That’s when I saw her.
Mrs. Sung, coming out of the staff office with papers in her hand. I collapsed into her arms. Didn’t say a word just pointed behind me, where Mr. Kim stood in the doorway of the library, still frozen, trying to process what had just happened. Mrs. Sung’s arms locked around me like a shield. When Mr. Kim stepped forward, his face pale, lips parted to speak—
“Don’t,” she snapped. “Stay where you are.” Her phone rang in that exact moment. She answered it, still holding me. I could hear the principal’s voice from here. “Bring them. Now. To the homeroom.” So we went. I let her half-carry me down the hallway, my shirt still hanging open, eyes fixed on the ground. I felt like I was drifting through someone else’s life. She kept shaking her head, muttering under her breath.
“I can’t believe this… a teacher. What the hell were you thinking?” Mr. Kim didn’t say a word. “You disgust me,” she muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. “I trusted you. We all did.” He didn’t respond. When we entered the classroom, every head turned. The students went quiet. Some looked away, others leaned forward, hungry for the story they didn’t know yet.
The principal stood waiting. “Bring me Seung-tae’s bag,” he said. Mr. Kim blinked. “His bag?” He turned toward the desk and picked it up. His fingers trembled slightly. The principal took it without a word. He unzipped it. Tipped it over. Books. Folders. A soft thump. Then the slap of something glossy hitting the desk. The magazines. Gasps rippled through the classroom like wind through trees. And when I glanced at Mr. Kim, his face had changed. He wasn’t just stunned now. He was looking at me. Like he was beginning to understand.
The air was thick with the weight of unspoken dread as my eyes accidentally met Seung-tae’s. It was a fleeting moment, but it was enough to seal my fate. My gaze dropped instinctively. My mind raced, a frantic whisper echoing in my head: That was supposed to be in Mr. Kim’s bag. Oh my God, what the actual fuck? My heart pounded in my chest like a jackhammer, each beat echoing in my ears as the room seemed to narrow around me.
Seung-tae didn’t explode. The moment stretched, heavy and uncertain. A quiet beat where the air shifted, charged with something invisible but unmistakable. He stared at the glossy magazine on the floor as though it might vanish if he glared hard enough. Then came the sound, a sharp, dry crack of his fist slamming against the desk, sharp enough to make someone in the back row flinch. The magazine didn’t move, but something in the room did. Something unseen, like the atmosphere itself had recoiled.
“That’s not mine,” he said, voice low, tight, filled with something worse than anger. Something colder. His jaw clenched. A vein in his neck stood out, pulsing like it was alive. And then, almost imperceptibly, he shifted his weight and dragged the tip of his tongue across the inside of his cheek. A slow, calculated movement. His mouth tilted at one side, caught somewhere between humor and hostility.
He looked at Mr. Kim for a single, cutting second. Then turned his eyes on me.
I felt them hit me before I even saw them, like a sudden drop in pressure, like the air had gone too thin. My gaze dropped instinctively, helplessly. The heat of his attention was unbearable, like standing too close to something burning. My heart slammed against my ribs, trying to escape. And for a moment, just one fleeting, terrible moment, I imagined what he looked like in that exact second and knew I would never forget it. My legs moved before my brain could catch up, my voice barely above a whisper as I mumbled something incoherent to the teacher.
I bolted from the room, the door slamming shut behind me as I leaned against it to catch my breath. My mind was a whirlwind of panic, every worst-case scenario playing out in vivid detail. I could feel the sweat dripping down my spine, My gut clenched, tight and frozen. I knew what that look meant. I was dead. Fucking dead. There was no coming back from this. And as I stood there, my back pressed against the door, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Seung-tae’s eyes were still on me, boring into my skin, waiting for his moment to strike.
I started walking away from the door when I heard the principal’s voice, calm but firm, as he said to Seung-Tae, “Let’s go to my office so I can call your parents.” My heart sank. I needed to leave now before they came out. I didn’t dare look back, didn’t dare hesitate. I pushed through the first door I saw, my legs carrying me on autopilot. It was the girls’ bathroom, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead like a cruel omen. I ducked into the first stall, slamming the door shut behind me and leaning against it as if it could keep out the chaos I’d just witnessed.
Oh God, he’s going to blame me for this. The thought hit me like a freight train, my breath catching in my throat. All I had to do was lure Mr. Kim to the library and make it look like he was attacking me. That was the plan, let Seung-Tae take care of the rest. But I couldn’t even do that. Seung-Tae is fucking crazy. When things don’t go his way, he loses it. I remembered the last kid who dared to cross him. Seung-Tae had made Hak-Soo run over the kid’s leg breaking it, just because he’d reported him to the principal. And then that kid transferred, his family probably terrified to stay. What the actual fuck would this mean for me?
The door creaked open like a warning, and I heard Hak-Soo’s voice echoing through the empty bathroom. “I know you’re in here,” he called out, his tone sharp and menacing. “Get out here!” he yelled, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls. My breath tangled in my throat, and my heart galloped toward something I couldn’t name. I didn’t want to face him, didn’t want to hear what he had to say. But I knew I had no choice. Slowly, I stepped out of the stall, my legs trembling beneath me.
“I don’t know what happened,” I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady. “I didn’t tell anyone about the plans.” The words spilled out of me like a confession, but I could see the skepticism in Hak-Soo’s eyes. He stepped closer, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, I thought he might hit me. But instead, he smiled. The smile that sent a chill down my spine. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice dripping with false reassurance. But I knew it was a lie. Hak-Soo never smiled like that unless something was wrong, unless he was hiding something.
He reached out, his fingers brushing against my hair, and I flinched at the touch. “Seung-Tae told me to pass this message onto you,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “He wants you to meet him in the homeroom after school.” His fingers tightened slightly, a subtle reminder of the power he held over me. “And if you don’t… well, let’s just say you won’t like what happens next.” He paused, letting the threat hang in the air like a challenge. Then, with a final, lingering touch to my hair, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing there in stunned silence, the weight of Seung-Tae’s wrath pressing down on me like a physical force.
I lingered in the bathroom until the last school bell rang, a desperate attempt to calm my racing heart. Each tick of the clock echoed in my mind, amplifying the dread that clung to me like a heavy fog. The thought of facing Seung-tae made my legs feel leaden as I walked toward the classroom, each step dragging me deeper into a pit of anxiety.
As I pushed the door open, the sight that met me was both familiar and unsettling. Seung-tae lounged in his chair, his legs propped casually on the desk, a smirk playing on his lips as he perused a porn magazine, the same one he’d been caught with. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, he lifted his gaze, those dark eyes glinting with mischief.
“Great! You’re here,” he exclaimed, his voice dripping with a cheerfulness that felt utterly dissonant with the tension in the air. He set the magazine aside, the pages fluttering shut, and sauntered around the desk toward me. Panic surged through me, and instinctively, I reached for the door handle, desperate to escape.
But before I could make my move, his hand enveloped mine, warm and firm, as he leaned in closer, The heat of his breath grazed my skin, sending a shiver through me. I pressed my back against the solid wood of the door, a futile barrier between us. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he murmured, his voice low and threatening. “I have Hak-soo right outside the door. If you try to run, he’ll grab you by the hair and drag you right back to me. And trust me, you wouldn’t like that.”
His words hung in the air, thick with menace, as he stared deep into my eyes, his gaze unwavering and intense. I could feel the heat radiating off him, a magnetic pull that made it hard to breathe. It was the kind of intensity that stirred unease, the kind that made my skin prickle with the instinct to flee, yet anchored me in place like a moth drawn to a flame.
“Let’s not make this difficult,” he said, his tone shifting, taking on a darker edge. “All I want is a little chat.” The way he smiled then, it was predatory, promising a predator’s delight in the hunt. My pulse quickened, pounding painfully, a wild drumbeat of fear and uncertainty.
“Seung-tae…” I started, but the words faltered on my lips as he leaned even closer, the space between us charged with a palpable tension.
“Just relax,” he whispered, a sinister lilt to his voice that sent shivers down my spine. “You’ll find I’m not as bad as you think. But running away? That would only make things worse.”
In that moment, I realized I was trapped not just by the door, but by his presence, his charm twisted into something dark and dangerous. My mind raced, searching for a way out, but all I could do was stand there, caught in the web he had woven, knowing that escape was not as simple as it seemed.
He pulled away abruptly, A cold, hunting spark flashed in his eyes.. “Go take a seat,” he ordered, his voice deceptively calm. My heart raced as I took a tentative step forward, but I barely made it three steps before his hand shot out, fingers tangling painfully in my hair. With a swift motion, he slammed me onto the teacher's desk, the wood biting into my ribs.
“You’re hurting me! Let go!” I cried out, desperate to pry his grip from my scalp, but he only tightened his hold, a sadistic smile creeping onto his face. He lifted me effortlessly, only to slam me back down again, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.
“Wow, do you ever stop talking?” he sneered, his voice laced with a mix of irritation and amusement. I struggled to breathe, panic clawing at my throat as I continued to squirm beneath him. “Shut up,” he hissed, leaning closer, “or I’ll make you shut up.”
The threat hung heavy in the air, and the weight of it silenced me, wrapping around my throat like a noose. My heart thundered in my chest, each beat a reminder of my vulnerability. I tried to swallow, but the fear left me feeling breathless, a storm of emotions swirling inside me.
As I writhed against him, desperate to escape, I accidentally brushed up against him, feeling the heat of his body through the fabric of his pants. The moment I did, he let out a low groan, a sound that sent a jolt of shock through me. Everything in me went rigid, our bodies caught in an unexpected connection, the tension thickening around us.
“Why’d you stop?” he whined, leaning down closer, his breath warm against my ear. “That felt good.” The way he spoke was both seductive and unsettling, as if he enjoyed the power he wielded over me.
I could feel his body shift, the undeniable evidence of his response pressing against me, a stark reminder of the twisted situation I was in. My mind raced, grappling with confusion and fear, the line between repulsion and something else blurring in that moment.
“Please,” I gasped, trying to regain some semblance of control, but the words felt weak and futile against the intensity of his gaze. He moved like a predator, and I, unwittingly, had stumbled right into his snare.
“Just relax,” he murmured, his fingers still gripping my hair possessively. “You might find this is more enjoyable than you think.” There was a dark satisfaction in his tone, a thrill that sent chills down my spine. I wanted to scream, to fight back, but the fear of what he might do next held me captive, my body betraying me in ways I couldn’t understand.
With his fingers still tangled in my hair like a leash, Seung-tae’s other hand slid down the curve of my waist, slow and deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world. My body stiffened, instinct flaring, and I tried to twist away but the moment I resisted, his grip in my hair jerked tighter, sharp enough to make my eyes sting.
“Don’t,” he murmured, voice like silk over glass. “You’ll only make it worse for yourself.”
His breath was hot against my cheek, calm and steady in contrast to the riot in my chest. I could feel his focus on me not just physical, but watchful, like a wolf waiting for its prey to bolt just so he could enjoy the chase. A chill ran through me as his hand crept beneath my skirt. I jerked back instinctively, reaching down to stop him, but every time I moved, he yanked harder on my hair, forcing a whimper from my lips. “Relax,” he said again, not kindly, but as a command disguised in velvet. “Or try that again and I might just call Hak-soo over bet that’d make things interesting, huh? ”
His fingers curled into the waistband of my underwear, slow and sure, and with one firm tug, he dragged them down. They slipped past my knees, crumpled at my feet, shame clinging to every thread.
I tried to breathe, tried to find logic, ground—anything. But then he flipped my skirt up and the cold air kissed bare skin, raising goosebumps that had nothing to do with temperature.
The desk creaked ominously beneath me, the hard wood biting into my stomach as he pinned me down, leaving me completely at his mercy. My heart raced, pounding against my ribs like a caged bird desperate to escape, but there was no escape from this. No escape from him.
"Such a cute little thing," he murmured, voice low and dangerous—too soft to be a threat, too sharp not to be. His breath ghosted along my neck as he leaned in, close enough to feel the heat rolling off him. "I knew you'd look good like this. Held down. Not going anywhere."
His thumb dragged slowly between my thighs, not rough—worse. Careful. Measured. A slow press of control that made my whole body tighten. I squirmed, but his other hand tightened in my hair, a quiet reminder: I wasn’t in charge here.
"You can pretend to fight it," he whispered, brushing my skin again, feather-light, mocking. "But we both know how badly you want this."
His hand released my hair slowly, almost tenderly, before sliding down my side and over my thigh, his fingers dragging with just enough pressure to leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake. I flinched, breath catching as he reached the soft heat between my legs, instinct making my thighs snap shut in protest.
But he only chuckled—a low, knowing sound that sent a chill down my spine.
“Oh no,” he murmured, voice rough with amusement and something darker. “We’re not doing that.”
With a cruel kind of calm, he forced my legs apart, his grip bruising, immovable—like this was always going to happen, and any fight in me was just a formality. He settled between them, deliberate and slow, like he was taking his time claiming what was already his.
“You should’ve done better,” he said, voice low, almost bored. “And you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”
I opened my mouth to speak, to beg, but then I heard it—that sharp metallic click. My breath froze. The soft, smooth slide of a zipper followed, so casual it made my stomach turn. My blood pounded in my ears like drums.
He leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear. “Don’t pretend you’re not scared. I like it better when you are.”
Then I felt him pressing against me. The head of his cock grazed my entrance, and I gasped, my whole body seizing, spine going rigid beneath him. I couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. Every muscle locked in place, strung tight with fear.
"Seung-tae, please..." I whimpered, my cheek pressed against the desk, breath catching as I tried to lift myself, but the weight of him behind me kept me pinned. My voice shook, panic creeping in, hands clutching at the fabric beneath me. I didn’t care how desperate I sounded anymore, I just wanted him to hear me. “Please… just stop.”
I could feel the heat of him. The unrelenting press of him against my bare skin making my breath hitch and my mouth go dry. This was wrong. Every part of me screamed that it was. I didn’t want this… not like this. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will it away, trying to pretend it wasn’t happening. “Ah,” he murmured, voice dark with satisfaction. “You look so good like this.” His free hand curled possessively around my hip.
“So when I ask you to do something,” he whispered, his tone now hushed and dangerous. “I expect it done. Got it? ” His lips brushed the shell of my ear, the warmth of his breath a mockery of tenderness. He didn’t wait. Just pushed forward, rough and unapologetic, tearing the breath from my lungs, forcing a broken gasp from my throat as my body jerked against the desk, the impact echoing louder than I expected. Pain bloomed sharp at first, then dulled into something molten and thick, twisting low in my belly.
"Shhh, jagiya," he cooed, as if soothing a frightened animal—even as he held me in place with merciless control. “You always fight me like this. But we both know how much you love it.” His voice was silk wrapped around steel, intimate in a way that made my skin crawl and shiver all at once. He didn’t move right away. Just stayed buried deep inside me, letting the silence stretch like a blade between us, like he wanted me to feel every inch of him… and every inch of the power I had just handed over.
I writhed beneath Seung-tae, breath stuttering as I tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch of him. A trembling whimper escaped you. He was too much. Too deep. It felt like he was carving out a space inside me that only he could fill. “That's it,” he murmured, voice low and full of wicked satisfaction. “You're mine. Every inch of you—mine to take, mine to keep.”
His hand slid up my back, possessive and slow, anchoring me as if daring me to move. “You feel that?” he whispered near my ear, breath hot. “No one else will ever touch you like this. No one else will even come close.”
Seung-tae's hand slid up my spine, his fingers splaying across my shoulder blades as he pinned my chest down against the desk with ruthless control. His hips pressed against my ass, the rough fabric of his pants a stark contrast to your bare, overheated skin. “You're only making it harder,” he muttered, tightening his grip. "Stop lying to yourself. You can feel it too, can't you? The way your body opens for me, like it was made for me?" He punctuated his words with a slow, deliberate thrust, driving himself even deeper inside me. The desk creaked beneath us, the sound obscenely loud in the charged silence of the classroom. I bit my lip hard, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to spill out, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing my pleasure.
But my body betrayed me, a shudder running through me as a rush of wet heat flooded my core. Seung-tae groaned, a low, guttural sound of satisfaction. "That's it," he growled, his hips beginning to move with a slow, steady rhythm. "You're so fucking tight. Such a perfect little fit."
He set a brutal pace, the desk slamming against the ground with each powerful thrust. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with Seung-tae's harsh breathing and the desperate, stifled noises spilling from my throat. Tears stung my eyes as I tried to deny the building pleasure, the traitorous ache of arousal that grew stronger with each passing second.
"Admit it," Seung-tae demanded, his voice a dark purr in my ear. "Admit how much you love this. How much you need this." His hand slid around to my breast, kneading the soft flesh, his thumb and forefinger finding and pinching your nipple through the thin fabric of my shirt. “What’s the matter?”
"Seung-tae, please—" My voice broke as his hips snapped forward, forcing a scream from my throat when he hit that spot. My fingers scrambled against the polished wood of the teacher’s desk, my cheek smeared against a stray worksheet, the ink blurring from my tears.
"There she is," Seung-tae purred, his palm smoothing possessively over the small of my back. "That pretty little moan. Just for me." His fingers tangled in my hair, yanking my head back just enough to hear the choked sob that followed. "Say thank you." I whimpered, shaking my head, but he tsked, thrusting deeper until my body bowed helplessly into his. "Thank you," I gasped. "Good girl." His praise dripped like honey, sickly sweet and laced with venom. "See how easy it is when you behave?"
I didn’t say anything. My voice felt lost somewhere in the knot of my chest, tangled with everything I was feeling and trying not to feel. My body moved on its own, and I hated how easy it was. I felt it building, quiet at first, like a tremor under skin but then rising, sharp and urgent. I drew in shallow gasps, my mind too fogged to focus. I was too aware of everything: the press of his chest, the tension in my spine. All I could hear was his breathing, rough and uneven, the low grunts and moans against my ear as he moved. And then, in a voice that sent something hot and wicked curling down my spine, he whispered, “You were made for this, weren’t you? To be taken like this, used until you forget your own name.”
Maybe that was the last bit of control I hadn’t already given away. In an instant, he drove into me, deep, brutal and the scream that ripped out of me wasn’t just from pain or pleasure. It was from everything I’d buried, everything I couldn’t hide anymore. The moment my scream tore through the classroom. The door creaked open, and there he was—Hak-soo, leaning casually against the frame, a grin tugging at his lips like he already knew what was was happening. his gaze locked onto me: bent over the teacher’s desk, skirt shoved up around my waist, Seung-tae’s hands gripping my hips hard enough to bruise.
Seung-tae didn’t even pause.
"Get the fuck out," he said calmly, rolling his hips deeper into me, forcing another broken sound from my throat. His voice was pleasant, almost conversational—if not for the way his fingers dug into my skin like a warning. Hak-soo didn’t move. His eyes locked onto mine, heavy with something feral and unspoken. A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips, oh God, my stomach twisted as I caught the unmistakable bulge pressing against the front of his uniform pants. He wasn’t hiding it. If anything, he wanted me to see.
Seung-tae noticed too.
"Oh." A slow, cruel smile curled his lips. He leaned down, lips brushing my ear as he thrust harder, deliberately hitting that spot again. I sobbed, nails scraping the desk. "Looks like our Hak-soo likes watching." His hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back so I had to meet Hak-soo’s wide, guilty stare. "Should we let him stay, jagiya? Let him see how well you take me?"
I shook my head frantically, humiliation burning through me. Seung-tae chuckled, pressing a kiss to my temple like I was something precious. "Good girl," he purred. "You’re right. I don’t share." His gaze flicked back to Hak-soo, all false politeness. "Close the door on your way out. And if I catch you staring at what’s mine again…" He trailed off, letting the threat hang in the air.
Hak-soo backed away slowly, jaw clenched, eyes burning into mine like he was being torn in two. He didn’t want to leave—I could see it in the way his fingers twitched at his sides, in the way he paused in the doorway before finally closing the door behind him. Seung-tae clicked his tongue, easing out of me with a slow, deliberate drag—only to slam back in, tearing a cry from my throat. “Now,” he murmured, voice like honey laced with venom, “where were we?”
The silence of the classroom swallowed us again, broken only by my ragged breaths and the slick, obscene rhythm of his thrusts. The air was heavy, thick with heat and something darker. "Look at you," he murmured, dragging his teeth along the shell of my ear as his hips snapped forward, forcing another whimper from my throat. “Fuck, you’re made just for me — tight and everything.”
His grip on my hips tightened, fingers pressing into bruises as he fucked me harder, deeper, his breath hot against my neck. "You gonna come for me, jagiya? Gonna let me feel you squeeze around my cock like the greedy little thing you are?" I shook my head, but my body betrayed me, trembling on the edge already. Seung-tae chuckled, low and dark, his hand sliding around to press against my clit, rubbing rough circles that had me arching back against him.
"Liar," he purred. "I can feel you shaking. You’re close, aren’t you?" I bit my lip, trying to stifle the moan building in my chest, but Seung-tae yanked my hair, forcing my head back. "No. I want to hear you." And then he thrust up at just the right angle, and I shattered, a broken cry tearing from my lips as my body clamped around him. Seung-tae groaned, his rhythm faltering for the first time, his fingers digging into my skin as he chased his own release. "Fuck—take it, take it—" His voice was ragged, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep and came with a low, shuddering growl, filling me up until I could feel the heat of him spilling inside.
For a moment, neither of us moved. Then Seung-tae exhaled, pressing a kiss to the back of my neck before slowly pulling out. I whimpered at the loss, my legs trembling as his cum dripped down my thighs. Seung-tae dent down to slide my panties back up, his fingers lingering between my legs, smearing his release against my skin. "There," he murmured, almost sweetly. "Something to remember me by."
He stepped back, adjusting his pants with effortless grace before turning to me. I forced my shaking legs to straighten, gripping the edge of the desk until my knuckles turned white. My skirt was still hiked up around my waist, marks on my thighs from where Seung-tae’s fingers had dug in too hard. I could feel his cum cooling between my legs, sticky and shameful, as I tugged the fabric back into place with unsteady hands.
Seung-tae watched me from the doorway, arms crossed, his dark eyes tracking every flinch, every hitched breath I tried and failed to suppress. His lips curled when I stumbled, my thighs still weak from being forced open so wide. "Careful," he murmured, voice dripping with false concern. "Wouldn’t want you to fall." I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.
Seung-tae pushed off the door-frame, closing the distance between us in two lazy strides. His fingers brushed my cheek before curling into my hair and yanking my head back. "Next time," he whispered, his breath warm against my lips, "you’ll do what I told you to do. Won’t you?" It wasn’t a question. I swallowed hard, my pulse fluttering under his grip. "...Yes." He smiled before releasing me with a pat to my cheek, like I was nothing more than a pet who’d finally learned its lesson. "Good girl."
Then he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him. I waited until the echo of his footsteps and Hak-soo’s low voice murmuring something I couldn’t make out faded down the hall before my knees finally gave out, sliding down against the desk with a choked sob. My body ached, my skin still warm where he’d touched me, the faintest trace of his presence lingering unseen but impossible to ignore.
♡ pairing : kim gun-woo (김건우) x reader ♡ genre : hurt / comfort, romance ♡ warnings : swearing (fuck), blood, fighting, kissing ♡ word count : 800 ♡ recommended age rating : 14 + ♡ listenin' to : love — wave to earth & seasons — wave to earth ♡ a.n : just a little something i cooked up.
!! masterlist ! ! taglist !!
gunwoo wasn't one for losing, but despite that, he treated them as lessons; reviewed them over, wrote things down, actually learned from his mistakes. he would go to the local ring, waiting for it to empty out, only then would he fasten the boxing gloves on and step into the ring.
he would visualize his opponent in front of him — exactly how his opponent was earlier — and he'd retrace his steps, every punch, every expression, every fuck up, and he would piece out what he did wrong and how he could've fixed it. gunwoo was always strong in that sense; learning and accepting.
except that's not how it went this time.
some thugs thought today was a beautiful day to attempt to rob his mother, gunwoo was oblivious to that until he received a call from her, which always brought a smile to his face. “hi mom, why are you up so late?” he asked while on his way home. being met with no reply had him worried and stopping his steps, it wasn't like her. “mom?”
“gunwoo.” was all his mother uttered before the call ended with a click, and his smile dropped immediately. he shoved his phone into his pocket and started to sprint on his usual path to her shop, just this time, with a panicked sense of urgency. 8 masked men in total inside the café threatened yoon seoyeon, and that only panicked gunwoo further.
that's how gunwoo ended up on your doorstep; bruised, injured, and obviously exhausted. “fuck happened to —” your question was cut off by gunwoos arms wrapping around you and his face resting on your shoulder, just like how it did seemingly thousands of times before. a content sigh left the taller boy, visibly relaxing in your arms. “hello to you too.” you uttered, hugging him back.
gunwoo was used to coming to you after fights, especially fights he'd lose. even though he was good at learning and accepting, he needed extra reassurance after fights he couldn't win, and you were perfect for the job in his eyes. you would help patch him up sometimes, let him crash at your place if he'd been hurt particularly bad, and he had learned that you're one of his safe spaces.
bloodied gauze pads piled in your trash can, the first aid kit lying open right next to you on the ground, containing various gels and bandages you were using on his wounds. nobody spoke, letting the orange light seep through your window and do the speaking for you.
gunwoos eyes stayed on yours while your fingers gently cleaned out cuts on his arm. you've always looked so tough — ever since middle school, but you were so gentle with him, so soft, like you could never really be who you pretended to be around him. your fingers ran over his bruised knuckles, and your head tilted up to look at him back.
the room was silent besides the sound of your mixed breaths and your pounding hearts. you were used to his staring, but something about this one felt different in a way, more expressive. his throat bobbed nervously in a swallow, watching your hands set down the alcohol pads slowly.
his eyes were dark — but in a sense that you could get lost in them, sparkling — but in the sense that you could see stars in his eyes, big — but in the sense that made him look gorgeous. a cut up and bruised hand brushed your hair out of your face lightly, like he didn't know if he even had permission.
he leaned forward, in no rush to meet your lips. he stopped just short of kissing you, and instead started searching your eyes for anxiety, defiance, anything that might say you don't want this as much as he does. instead he found you leaning in on your own and closing the already small gap between the two of you.
his rough hands cupped your face with a gentleness someone with his appearance would generally never be able to pull off. his split lips pressed against yours, and it felt like all of the air had left the room. he wasn't rough, he never was with you, he was just perfect.
he whispered your nickname, the one he came up with just for you, the one he used back in school since someone else had the same name as you. “i ...” gunwoo tried to start a sentence, put his emotions in it, but with your gaze fixated on him like that, he couldn't get the words past his lips. you shushed him, and leaned in to meet him again. this time a bit bolder, letting the bottled up emotions pour out of you in one passionate kiss.
CREDITS — DIVIDERS - @/cursed-carmine HEADER - pinterest, merged by me
