kang sae-byeok x f!reader , cho hyun-ju x f!reader , kim young-mi x f!reader , se-mi x f!reader , kang no-eul x f!reader , ji-yeong x reader
warnings: nsfw!! minors do not interact. 18+ smut dialogue and post-smut details. one mention of trauma (nothing detailed) on ji-yeong's part.
kang sae-byeok (player 067 season 1) x you
sae-byeok’s got you pinned beneath her, her lean frame a solid weight against your chest.
your woman's short hair is brushing your cheek as she leans in close.
voice low and jagged, “think you can handle me tonight, y/n? don’t start waking up the family next door when i push you past your limit.”
sae-byeok's eyes are sharp and taunting, but they soften for a split second...only you get that glimpse.
she’s relentless, hands rough but precise, pinning your wrists above your head with one grip while the other trails down your side, nails grazing just enough to make you squirm.
“you’re mine,”
she demands, her tone biting.
"say it!"
when you choke out the words, her smirk fades into something quieter, her thumb brushing your jaw as she mutters,
“good… you’re the only one i’d bother with.”
afterward, she collapses beside you, her chest rising and falling hard, one arm lazily draped over your waist.
she’s silent for a moment, catching her breath.
your girlfriend looks over at you, before pulling your head to her bare chest, cuddling you after she throws the strap somewhere in the room.
“you’re the only one who gets this, y/n. don’t think i’m soft now...i’ll deny it tomorrow.”
sae-byeok makes herself clear.
"please don't"
you frown as you stare at one of the freckles on her arm.
sae-byeok clenched her eyebrows, "hum?"
"I love it when you're vulnerable. please be vulnerable with me, sae-byeok... you know I'd never hurt you."
you look up, your bright eyes looking into her intense ones.
"I know...."
sae-byeok pulls you even closer, her tough shell cracking as her fingers tangle in your hair.
“you’re too damn fragile… it makes me wanna protect you, even from me.”
you shake your head.
"there is nothing wrong or scary about you, sae-byeok. I am saying this in a gentle way too."
you look over at her, giving a light kiss to her lower jaw.
"you could never hurt me sae, just like how I'll never hurt you."
kim young-mi (player 095 season 2) x you
young-mi’s perched atop you, her soft thighs straddling your hips, her hands tentative as they press against your chest.
your girlfriend's wide eyes flicker with nervous excitement, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she murmurs, “y/n, you’re so warm—am i doing this right? tell me if it’s too much.”
young-mi's voice is honey-sweet, trembling slightly, but when you nod, she gains confidence, leaning down to kiss your collarbone, whispering, “i just wanna make you feel as good as you make me feel.”
she’s a switch, so the mood shifts...
soon she’s beneath you, her hair fanned out on the pillow, cheeks flushed as she gasps, “please, y/n, don’t stop—i need you so bad.”
young-mi's sensitivity’s in every shudder, every soft cry, her hands clutching your shoulders like you’re her lifeline.
she’s gentle even in her desperation, whispering between breaths,
“you’re so kind to me… i don’t deserve it.”
you frown,
“young-mi, don’t say that...what do you mean?”
young-mi starts playing with the lower strands of your hair, her chest pressed against yours.
“i just… i’m always so scared i’ll mess this up, y/n. you’re too good.”
“hey, you’re not messing anything up. i’m here because i want to be.”
you smile lightly, kissing the tip of her nose.
young-mi blushes,
“really? you don’t think i’m… too much sometimes?”
you shake your head,
“no way. you’re perfect to me, okay? i love how you are.”
“y/n… you’re gonna make me cry saying stuff like that.”
“then cry. just don’t doubt yourself in our relationship... ok?”
you look into your girlfriend's sweet eyes.
“okay… thank you. i don’t know what i’d do without you.”
“you don’t have to find out. i’m not going anywhere.”
after, she’s curled into your side, her body soft and warm against yours, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm.
“was that okay? I know it was my first time with the strap but just wanna be perfect for you,”
she says, voice barely above a whisper, her lashes fluttering as she looks up at you.
"it was perfect, young-mi! it makes me want more."
you tease.
she nuzzles into your neck, giggling faintly, “ahh thank you, you’re too good to me, y/n… i’d give you everything if you asked.”
young-mi's sweetness lingers.
cho hyun-ju (player 120 season 2) x you
hyun-ju looms over you, her broad shoulders casting a shadow as she pins your hips with hands that could crush stone.
during sex, hyun-ju's marine strength is obvious, but her grin’s all warmth as she teases, “y/n, you’re tougher than you look."
"am I strong like you?"
you tease back as hyun-ju rests in between your legs.
"oh, for sure."
hyun-ju jokes.
during sex, her voice carries that deep, commanding edge, but her eyes crinkle with affection, her calloused fingers brushing your sides as she adds,
“let’s see how long you last tonight. we went six rounds last night, maybe I can get eight out of you tonight, hm?”
she’s dominant, every move deliberate.
your fiancee's lips crash against your moaning ones.
hyun-jus lips trail down your jaw, her breath hot as she growls,
“relax, baby, i’ve got you, please let me handle it all.”
after those eight rounds, you lay with your back pressed against hyun-ju's chest.
your skin is glowing while the ache between your legs is consuming your nervous system.
“you’re so damn gorgeous like this….”
hyun-ju's strength never falters, but her sweetness shines through.
she turns you to face her and pulls you into her chest, her heartbeat steady under your cheek.
your woman's arms wrap you up like she’s shielding you from the world.
"I love you, hyunnie."
you whisper.
"I love you too, sweetheart."
hyun-ju kisses the top of your head.
kang no-eul (guard 011 season 2) x you
no-eul’s got you flat on your back, her sharp gaze locked on yours as she hovers above with the strap, her presence heavy and unyielding.
“stop moving, y/n,”
she says, voice clipped and firm, her hands pressing your shoulders down with quiet authority.
intimacy’s still foreign to her, her movements stiff at first.
with you, there’s a slow thaw.
she leans in, lips brushing your ear as she mutters,
“you’re too tempting… makes it hard to stay detached like I should be.”
she’s all control, her touch precise and unhesitating, guiding you with a steady hand on your thigh as she whispers, “just take it... don't you dare tease me or test me. you'll regret it.”
there’s no softness yet, but her walls are cracking.
no-eul's breath hitches when you moan,
“you’re making this harder than it needs to be. fuck, I am in love with you.”
it’s the closest she gets to vulnerability, her dominance a shield she’s not ready to drop.
after, she lies beside you, her body tense at first, staring at the ceiling as her chest rises and falls.
“I'm sorry if I was not soft enough, this is still strange to me,” she admits, voice low and guarded.
she is referring to the ideas of love and vulnerability.
“thank you for you making me feel less complicated.”
no-eul doesn’t cuddle YET, but her hand slides over to rest on yours, fingers brushing lightly over your back as you fall asleep to the massage of her fingers.
han se-mi (player 380 season 2) x you
se-mi’s got you tangled up in the sheets, her laughter ringing out as she straddles you, her hands pinning your wrists with mock seriousness.
“y/n, you’re hopeless at fighting back, did you even try or did you want me to handle you like this?"”
she says, her voice bright and teasing, eyes glinting with mischief.
se-mi leans down, nipping at your lip, smirking as she adds,
“what’s your next move, huh?"
it’s all light with her, her fingers dancing over your skin as she laughs mid-kiss,
“c’mon, give me something to work with, you always let me win this whole dominance fight,”
she’s playful even when it heats up.
se-mi's pointer, middle, and ring finger are deep inside of you as she looks up at your moaning face,
“faster? slower? beg for it.”
the joking never fully stops, her grin flashing between moans, keeping the mood loose and fun.
afterward, she’s sprawled out beside you, hair a mess, propping herself up on one elbow as she smirks,
“we’re a disaster, y/n... the sheets are wrecked, our legs ache and i’m pretty sure i heard the bed creak.”
she nudges you with her foot, voice dry,
“you’re lucky you’re hot, or i’d make you fix it. going again, or you too tired to keep up?”
"do you ever take thing seriously, se-mi"
you look up, smirking at the woman laying above you.
"I can... you know most of these people think I am a serious asshole."
se-mi lays her face in between the space of your neck and shoulder.
"you're not, though?"
you frown.
"I'm not for you."
se-mi smirks, kissing at your jawline.
"oh goodness."
ji-yeong (player 240 season 1) x you
it took months for ji-yeong to even consider this with you, and when it finally happens.
due to her trauma, I would head cannon her as a "touch-me-not" lesbian.
she’s above you, her slim frame tense but steady, her dark hair falling like a curtain around her face.
“y/n, you don’t touch me unless I say so... got it?”
ji-yeong's voice is quiet but firm, a boundary carved from her past, and you nod, letting her set the pace.
she guides your hands to the sheets instead, whispering against your back, “just watch me… let me feel you like this.”
she’s in full control, preferring to focus on you without reciprocation.
ji-yeong's trauma makes her skin a map she doesn’t want traced.
“you’re so good for me… just stay still, let me take it slow.”
your girlfriend's touch is deliberate.
it’s less about her body and more about the trust she’s giving you, her dominance a shield she wields gently.
afterward, she lies beside you, not quite touching but close enough that you feel her warmth, her eyes tracing the ceiling as she exhales shakily.
“I've observed that you’re patient with me, y/n… i don’t take that lightly,”
she says, her tone soft, almost fragile.
she turns her head, offering a rare, small smile, “i’m still figuring this out, but you make it feel safe. don’t push me, okay? just… stay like this.”
you look over at her, sitting up as your bare chest catches her eyesights.
"ji-yeong, you know I'd never push you to do anything you'd never want to do, okay?"
ji-yeong gives a sad smile, happy to hear.
"I know you would never push me. I just-- I just wanted to say that for my own reassurance."
you gave a frown, understanding ji-yeong's trauma.
"can I give you a hug?"
you ask.
ji-yeong, while laying in bed, roaches her arms out.
you smile, leaning down into her arms and smiling against her lower neck.
G!p Se-mi who’s the clingiest woman you’ve ever met, constantly making up excuses to touch your thighs, waist or ass.
G!p Se-mi who loves clubbing but gets jealous whenever you get hit on.
G!p Se-mi who rubs your clit through your underwear while you cuddle and watch your shows.
G!p Se-mi who genuinely cannot have a favorite position because of how much she loves all of you.
G!p Se-mi who absolutely worships your pussy in every way, eating you out like a starved woman before groaning loud enough to get a noise complaint when pushing into your pussy.
G!p Se-mi who’s sex style changes based on position. She could be calling you her whore while you ride her or while she grinds her hips into your ass in doggy. Or she’ll talk you through it all sweet in missionary or a mating press, brushing your hair out of your face and telling you how good you’re doing.
“Fuck, such a pretty slut, riding my cock like that. Lemme see your tits, good girl.”
“Shh, gorgeous, you’re doing so well. Does that feel good? One more and then you can rest.”
G!p Se-mi who despises condoms but also hates pulling out. You settled for birth control and her cumming on your tits when you were worried about pregnancy.
G!p Se-mi who has a fixation on your boobs, it doesn’t matter how big they are, she adores them. And if you ever feel insecure about them she’ll spend hours kissing your chest and sucking your nipples, whispering about how pretty you are.
G!p Se-mi who keeps you up at night and wakes you up early just so you can cock warm her.
G!p Se-mi who lets you grind on her through her sweatpants, gripping your hips to keep you in place.
G!p Se-mi who makes you deepthroat her cock after you cum, tasting yourself while teasing her tip.
G!p Se-mi who gives the best aftercare even if she’s tired too. Washing your hair and making sure any makeup you have is off.
G!p Se-mi who sends you nudes while you’re at work, knowing it makes you rub your thighs together and hiding your phone from your colleagues when you see the pictures of her jerking off.
G!p Se-mi with a seven and a half inch dick exactly (she measures.) Circumsized and perfectly trimmed pubes.
G!p Se-mi who gets turned on incredibly easy, just looking at you makes her hard.
G!p Se-mi who isn’t a big fan of naps but takes them with you anyway with her head on your thighs or stomach.
G!p Se-mi who loves seeing you in her clothes as any girlfriend does and spends the whole day with her face in your neck.
G!p Se-mi who goes feral for your cooking and/or baking even if you can’t cook for shit. (She has no idea how a stove works)
G!p Se-mi who spends rainy days doing puzzles and Lego’s with you, doing each other’s makeup and casual makeouts.
G!p Se-mi who wraps her arms around your waist from the back the morning after sex while you’re making coffee in the kitchen, pressing kisses to your neck and asking why you’re up so early. (It’s one pm)
✿ the only friend of hers you really see is minsu, since she’s closest to him as the two quietest of the group. on occasion it’s subong, who’s got an annoying habit of crashing your dates and flirting with you just to tease her. she tries to keep you far away from namgyu who she probably wouldn’t be friends with in any other circumstances.
✿ with all the nonchalance, she makes up for in how she adores you. she constantly buys you little treats, keeps a hand on your thigh when you sit next to her, plays with your hair absentmindedly. semi’s never been the kind for big cheesy speeches, but she still makes you feel so loved without vocalising it.
✿ not huge on PDA, but she’s got a silent protectiveness about you. she’ll keep an arm slung around your shoulders when you’re walking together, keeping you close at her side. pulls you in with firms hands at your waist when she wants to make it known to someone that you’re hers.
✿ big girl group stan. will shamelessly fangirl with you over idols. you learn the choreo to her favourite song and dance with her in the living room and she looks at you like she might just drop on one knee and propose.
✿ she loves when you wear any lipgloss that stains her mouth or leaves a sweet taste on the tongue. once she notices the little shine on your lips she’s pulling you in for a feisty kiss, and you have to reapply the product afterwards since she licked it all off lol. gets all smug about it when people notice and don’t say anything.
✿ stubborn about letting you do things yourself. will take you on a date, drive, pay, and still shakes her head if you offer to even just eat her out to return the favour. you have to slip past semi and surprise her if you wanna treat her to anything, and she gets all shy about it too :((
✿ acts like she doesn’t care when you steal her snapback or jewellery, but you’ll catch her smirking at you when she thinks you’re not looking, suddenly incredibly handsy for no particular reason. her clothes are a different story, however. seeing you in her t-shirt with nothing else on will awaken something. you show up to a cinema date in her hoodie, and she’ll slip her hands into your lap and fingerfuck you in the empty screening.
✿ semi’s down to flipflop, but she’s always the one in control. that won’t change even if you switch positions. when you’re rutting on top of her, she’ll hold your hips steady so you grind on her clit just right. when you’re going down on her, she’s pulling your hair back to watch your face stuffed in her cunt.
✿ not particularly loud during sex, since she’s already a reserved person. instead she lets out soft, breathy noises. she knows how much they drive you crazy, so sometimes she’ll deliberately let them slip — breath hot on your pussy as she lets out a groan, watching you writhe on her mouth over the sound.
✿ if you’re ever tired or upset at one another, she’ll just quietly pull you into a hug and lay you both down on the bed. an arm draped over your stomach, a hand threading through your hair. no words needed. just quietly making up, remembering what you mean to her.
✿ her love language is quality time. you could be doing nothing at all and she’ll just genuinely enjoy your presence in the quiet. she’s happiest when you’re just sitting on the couch together, your head laid in her lap, singing along to music playing low in the background or scrolling on your phone and watching silly little reels together.
Can we please have Semi with female reader who’s absolutely whipped for her? Even since the beginning! Like just totally fumbling around her doesn’t really know how to act stutters and Semi notices it flirts with her as well and even teases her for it?! “You sure you don’t like me?” Thank you!!
Thanks for requesting!! It’s pretty short but I hope you like it!
Also I’m gonna get to the other requests soon too, thank you everyone who requested even though I disappeared off the face of the earth for a while. Enjoyyy!
(Not proofread.)
HER SHY LITTLE THING
~ pairing: Se-mi x shy! fem reader
~ shy, confessions, teasing
You were smitten with Se-mi the moment you laid eyes on her, and you couldn’t help but be completely shy around her, every interaction with her charged with the tension lingering between the two of you. You never dared to do anything, no you could never. The thought of confessing your feelings was mortifying. So you tried your best to ignore your feelings, but you couldn’t help the way you’d trip over your words (and feet) whenever she was near.
Se-mi, of course, knew how you felt. And she felt the same way. But, wanting to see how things would play out, she kept her mouth shut. Your reactions to her, your pink cheeks, your shy gaze, they were enough to drive her crazy, and she would never let go of the chance to make you all flustered. The smallest bit of flirting would get you stuttering and blushing, and she just couldn’t get enough. She would ask you out eventually, when the time was right, but till then, she would take every opportunity to see that look in your eyes, the shy smile on your face.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
On your day off, you had dragged Se-mi to the mall with you, pulling her behind you as you darted from shop to shop. You strolled in a pretty, powder blue sundress, a sweet smile on your face as Se-mi held onto your hand, holding your bags that she insisted on carrying in the other. You sneaked little glances at her in her baggy jeans, a short-sleeved blue button up layered over a white t-shirt, her hair held back from her face by a backwards baseball cap. Your palm tingled at the contact with hers. You focused your gaze at the passing storefronts.
Passing by a lingerie shop, your gaze snagged on a lacy pink nightgown in the window display. Its straps were pretty ribbons, fluffy tulle making up the bodice. Se-mi noticed your interest, the thought of you wearing it popping up in her mind, and she clenched her fist in an effort to not be visibly affected. “That would look good on you”, her voice was slightly pinched when she said the words, but you didn’t notice, captured by the idea that she had thought about how it would look on you. You face flushed, more so than Se-mi had ever seen, heat creeping up you neck. “Huh?”, your mind refused to cooperate, unable to form any coherent words. “You should get it”, her voice had taken up a teasing tone. You looked at her with a blank expression, not knowing what to say. “Come on, what’re you waiting for?”, taking your hand, she pulled you into the store. You nearly toppled over as you stumbled behind her. She bee-lined to the display, asking an attendant for one in your size.
“You know what, let me get this one for you”, she reached for her wallet and you grabbed her wrist. Letting go like her touch has burned you, you pulled your hand away. “You don’t have to do that”, you blurted out. “But I wanna. It’ll look so pretty on you”, her voice was nearly a whisper as her lips moved closer to your ear. You looked down, unable to meet her gaze. “You can’t even look at me. What, you like me or something?”, she teased, but her voice wasn’t unkind, it was soft, honey-sweet. Her words were a shock to your system and your eyes shot up to hers. You looked petrified, your secret that you had tried to guard so carefully now tinging the air between you.
“I-“, you searched for the words to say, not being able to come up with anything before she cut you off. “I think that works out great, because, I like you too”, she said it so matter-of-factly that you could hardly process it. “That’s not funny Se-mi”, you huff, turning away from her. She grabbed your hand, pulling you to her. Sliding her arm around your waist, she said, “I’m not kidding, sweetheart. I wouldn’t do that to you. I like you, I have for a long time. I didn’t tell you cuz… I wanted to see how this would play out. I like seeing you all flustered because of me”. You blinked up at her, cheeks flushed, breath unsteady, lips parted. Taking advantage of your stunned reaction, she pulled the nightgown out of your hands, “And I’m buying this for you”. You didn’t have time to react, and she had practically sprinted to the register, her long legs carrying her faster than you could keep up. She paid,thanking the cashier as she grabbed the bag.
You followed behind her as she walked out. “So what d’ya wanna do now?”, she asked, casual as ever. You gave her an incredulous look, “Um, maybe we should talk about what you just said?”, your voice was soft, unsure. Her gaze was steady as she looked right into your eyes, both her hands closing around your own, “Of course we will. At your place. On your couch with your favourite tea. Relaxed and easy, yeah. I don’t want you worrying about it. I meant what I said, and… I don’t want us to rush. So let’s enjoy the rest of the day, and later, we can figure out what’s next, ok?”, her deep voice, warm and reassuring, made you feel at ease. “Ok”, you agreed. Her wolfish grin made your neck warm. Her hands tugged you to her, arms wrapping around your shoulders. You buried your shy smile into her collar. When you pulled away, her arm returned to your waist, “Let’s get something to eat, huh? I’m starving”. You chuckled as you agreed, letting her steer you to the food court, giddy with everything the future held for you.
(A.N. I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long, I’ve had a lot of stuff going on and… I’ve started college! So I’ll definitely try to write as often as I can, and and I hope to get more requests! How you’ll enjoyed the fic!
And let me know if you guys want a part 2 of this fic)
synopsis: After that first explosive night, you begin using Semi as your new toy whenever you please. She never speaks first, never reaches for you, just quietly waits for your next command. It’s just sex - no kisses on the mouth, no conversations. Until an asshole at a frat party leaves you shaken, and the only place you feel safe enough to go is to her empty bed. When she finds you crying there, she holds you without asking why, and for the first time, the walls you built might be starting to crack…
genre: college au, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, light fluff, smut
warnings: g!p Semi, mild dubcon, coercive seduction, degradation/humiliation, power imbalance, oral (reader receiving), grinding/dry humping, orgasm denial, overwhelmed crying during sex, blindfolded Semi, p in v, creampie, brief scene of non consensual touching and victim blaming (side character)
word count: 5.4k
a/n: requested by anon
︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶
The next three weeks after that first time blur into something relentless.
The dorm room becomes your private kingdom, and Semi becomes the only subject who never questions the crown.
She never speaks first. Never reaches for you. Never even looks at you too long unless you allow it. She just waits.
You come back from practice, skin still damp with sweat, and find her exactly where she always is: cross legged on her bed, laptop balanced on her knees, headphones half on like armor. The RGB lights paint her face in shifting pinks and blues, catching on her piercings like warning signals she never heeds.
You don’t say hello.
You kick the door shut, drop your bag, and snap your fingers once, crisp and commanding.
Her body reacts before her brain catches up, laptop shoved aside, headphones yanked off. She slides to the floor without a sound, crawling the last few feet until she’s kneeling between your legs, eyes down, hands resting palms up on her thighs like an offering.
You don’t waste time on words.
You shove your shorts and underwear down in one motion, grab a fistful of her dark hair, and pull her mouth to you. She opens for you instantly, her tongue soft, lips warm, no hesitation. You ride her face rough and fast, grinding against her until your thighs tremble and your fingers bruise her scalp. When you cum it’s with a low, satisfied hiss, hips jerking before you push her away like she’s furniture.
She stays on her knees, breathing hard, chin slick, eyes glassy. You don’t thank her. You don’t touch her. You just step over her, strip the rest of your clothes, and climb into your own bed.
She doesn’t move until you’re under the covers. Then, she rises slowly, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and returns to her bed like nothing happened.
It happens again the next night. And the night after.
Sometimes you don’t even let her finish you with her mouth.
You straddle her lap while she’s still in sweats, feeling the instant, helpless throb of her cock through the fabric. You grind slow at first, then harder, faster, chasing your own release while she whimpers beneath you, hips twitching uselessly, hands clenched in the sheets because you haven’t given permission to touch.
When you cum you climb off without a glance back, leaving her leaking through her pants, trembling, untouched.
She never begs for relief. She never complains. She just lies there afterwards, face flushed, breathing ragged, cock softening against her stomach.
You never kiss her on the mouth.
You bite her throat until she whines. You suck bruises into the hollow of her collarbone. You drag your nails down her back hard enough to leave red lines she’ll feel for days. But your lips never meet hers. That would be too soft. Too dangerous. Too equal.
You don’t talk.
Not once.
No “how was your day?” No “what are you doing?” No “are you okay?”
The only sounds she makes are the ones you force out of her - high, broken whimpers when you edge her for forty minutes straight, shattered gasps of your name when you finally let her cum inside you, soft sobs when you overstimulate her until tears streak her cheeks and her whole body shakes.
You still don’t even know what her voice sounds like outside of sex.
Not the quiet, hoarse way she said your name that first night. Not the cracked “okay” when you claimed her. Those moments feel like fever dreams now, unreal and embarrassing. You’ve rewritten them in your head until they don’t exist.
This is cleaner.
This is power.
You use her whenever the urge hits - mid afternoon when the dorm is silent, late at night when the hallway lights dim, once in the shared bathroom with the shower running to drown out her muffled cries as you pin her against the tile and jerk her off until she’s sobbing your name into your shoulder.
She complies every single time. Eyes averted. Body pliant. Waiting. And every time you finish, you leave her wrecked, cum leaking from her, hoodie rucked up, face tear-streaked and flushed as you walk back to your side of the room like she’s invisible.
She never follows or reaches for you. She just pulls her blanket over herself, curls small, and waits for the next time you decide you want her.
You tell yourself this is exactly what you wanted. You tell yourself the hollow ache behind your ribs when you catch her sitting alone at her desk with her headphones on, staring blankly at a paused game is just boredom. You tell yourself the way your stomach twists when she flinches at a slammed door down the hall is irritation, not something softer. You tell yourself the silence between your beds isn’t heavier than it was before.
You tell yourself you’re in control.
Late at night, when the RGB lights cycle through colors and you’re alone under your covers, you listen for her breathing across the room.
Steady. Soft. Patient.
And something inside you twists so hard it hurts.
You roll over and face the wall, pretending you don’t feel it, pretending the quiet isn’t starting to feel like the loudest thing you’ve ever heard.
Today the quad is buzzing with midday energy - students sprawled on the grass, frisbees slicing overhead, someone’s bluetooth speaker thumping bass from a picnic blanket twenty feet away. You’re sitting on the low stone wall with your usual group: three cheer girls in matching hoodies, iced coffees in hand, scrolling through tiktoks and gossiping.
But you’re only half listening. Your eyes keep drifting across the open space, past the fountain, to the shaded path that cuts between the library and the science building.
Semi’s there.
She’s walking alone like always, black hoodie zipped to her chin, backpack slung over one shoulder, head slightly down and dark hair falling across her face. She’s got her sketchbook tucked under one arm, the way she does when she’s heading to the art building to draw or whatever it is she does when she’s not waiting for you in the dorm. She doesn’t look up, just moves through the flow of people like she’s trying to be invisible.
You watch her anyway.
The way her shoulders hunch a little when someone brushes past too close. The way her free hand fiddles with the strap of her bag, a nervous habit you’ve noticed more than you should. The way the sunlight catches the silver hoops in her ears and makes them flash a little.
Your stomach does a stupid little flip.
You don’t even realize you’re staring until Junhee, sitting right next to you, follows your gaze and snorts.
“Ew, what are you looking at?”
The other two turn, and cruel laughter bubbles up immediately.
“Oh my god.” Jiyeong says, voice pitched high with mock horror. “Is that the creepy anime girl?”
They all crane their necks, giggling. You snap your eyes away too late, and heat floods your cheeks.
“No.” You mutter quickly. “I wasn’t looking at anyone.”
Junhee smirks, nudging your shoulder. “Bullshit. You were full on staring. What, you into weirdos now?”
The laughter gets louder.
Jiyeong leans in, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Wait, don’t tell me… Is that your secret girlfriend? The mute perv who stares at your tits in the dorm?”
They dissolve into cackles, and someone even fake gags. You force a laugh, sharp and practiced, the one you use when you need to shut something down fast.
“Stop being assholes.” You say, rolling your eyes so hard it almost hurts. “As if. I would never go for a creep like that. She’s literally always hiding in her hoodie like she’s allergic to sunlight. Gross.”
You keep your voice light. Casual. Mean in the exact way they expect. And they buy it. The teasing shifts. Someone starts imitating Semi’s hunched walk, another makes exaggerated “staring” eyes, and the conversation moves on to safer territory: some frat guy who ghosted after a hookup, weekend plans, who’s hooking up with who.
You laugh along. Nod. Throw in a sarcastic comment when it’s your turn.
But your face is burning.
The blush won’t fade. It creeps down your neck, hot under your collar, and you can feel it. You tug your ponytail tighter and cross your arms over your chest like that’ll cool the flush. It doesn’t.
Across the quad, Semi disappears around the corner of the building. She never looked up. Never saw you watching.
You sit there for another twenty minutes, nodding at the right times, smiling when you’re supposed to, while your pulse hammers in your ears and your mind replays the exact second Semi’s hand twitched on her bag strap.
You tell yourself it’s nothing. You tell yourself the flush is just embarrassment from their teasing. You tell yourself you don’t care where she’s going, or what she’s drawing in that sketchbook, or whether she’ll be waiting quietly in the dorm when you get back.
You tell yourself a lot of things.
None of them stick.
That night the dorm feels smaller than usual.
The RGB lights are off. Semi must have powered down her PC earlier. The only light comes from the faint streetlamp bleeding through the blinds. You walk in without turning on the overhead, letting the door click shut behind you like a period at the end of a sentence you don’t want to finish.
Semi’s already in bed, sitting up against the headboard with her knees drawn up, manga open on her lap. She looks up the second you enter, eyes wide behind her glasses, then drops her gaze immediately, like she’s been trained to.
You don’t speak.
You kick off your shoes, strip out of your jeans and top in one fluid, impatient motion, leaving yourself in just the black thong and bra you wore all day. The air feels cold against your skin but you barely register it. Your pulse is too loud, too fast, drowning everything else.
The girls’ voices keep looping in your head.
Ew, what are you looking at?
Is that your secret girlfriend? The mute perv?
As if. I would never go for a creep like that.
You cross the room in three steps.
Semi’s breath catches when you climb onto the bed without preamble. She doesn’t move, just watches you with that familiar mix of awe and terror.
You grab her by the front of her hoodie and yank her forward, hard enough that her manga tumbles to the floor. She makes a small, startled sound but doesn’t resist.
“On your knees.” You say, voice flat. “Behind me.”
Semi blinks once, confused, then scrambles to obey.
She’s never been the one setting the pace before. You’ve always been on top, always dictating every angle, every rhythm. This is new. Different.
You turn away from her and drop to your hands and knees on her bed, ass up, back arched the way you know makes her lose her mind. You don’t look back. You can’t. Somewhere in your soul you know if you see her face - those big, wet puppy eyes - you’ll crack.
You hear the rustle of fabric as she shoves her sweats down, the mattress dipping behind you. The heat of her body looms close, then closer.
Her hands hover uncertainly over your hips, and you snap.
“Jesus, just fuck me. Now.”
Semi makes a tiny, panicked noise in her throat. Her cock is rock hard against your thigh, but her movements are clumsy and hesitant. She lines up wrong the first time, bumps against you awkwardly, tries again and misses the angle completely. Her breathing is fast, shallow, almost hyperventilating.
You grit your teeth.
This isn’t working.
You don’t want her fumbling. You don’t want her in control at all, not tonight, not when the word girlfriend is still echoing in your skull like a bad joke.
You reach blindly behind you, fingers closing around the silk sleep mask you keep on your nightstand. You twist and shove it at her.
“Put it on.”
Semi freezes.
You don’t repeat yourself.
She takes it with shaking hands and slips it over her eyes. It makes her look even more vulnerable - lips parted, cheeks flushed, breathing uneven.
Better.
You turn back around and push her flat on her back before straddling her hips. One smooth, punishing drop, and you sink down onto her, no prep, no teasing, just the thick stretch of her filling you completely. Semi’s head snaps back against the pillow, a raw, choked whimper tearing from her throat.
You ride her hard.
Fast. Merciless. Hands braced on her chest, nails digging through her hoodie, hips slamming down again and again. You keep your eyes on the wall, on the ceiling, anywhere but her face. You don’t want to see the way the blindfold darkens with tears, don’t want to see how her mouth opens on silent pleas.
But it’s not the same.
The rhythm feels off now, hollow. You’re chasing the high you usually get from breaking her, from watching her shatter under you, but tonight there’s nothing to watch. No glassy eyes to lock onto. No trembling lip to mock. Just her body responding - hips jerking instinctively, cock throbbing inside you, whimpers muffled against her bitten lip - but it’s distant. Mechanical.
You reach down slowly, fingers finding the edge of the sleep mask, and you pull it off. She blinks against the sudden dim light. Her eyes are wide, wet, pupils blown. Tears track down her temples into her hair. She looks up at you, unguarded, like she’s waiting for the next blow.
You hold her gaze, really hold it. No mockery. No cruelty. Just you and her.
Your hips roll once again, slow this time. Deliberate. Deep.
Semi’s breath hitches. Her hands twitch at her sides but don’t rise. She keeps them flat on the mattress, palms up, like she’s still waiting for permission even now.
You lean down.
Closer.
Closer.
Until your forehead rests against hers. Until you can feel every shaky exhale against your lips.
And you ride her like that, slow and deep, eyes locked on hers the whole time. No words. No commands. Just the wet slide of your bodies, the hitch of her breath every time you clench around her, the way her pupils dilate wider with every roll of your hips.
You feel her start to tremble when her cock swells inside you, pulsing, so close. You don’t speed up. You just keep that steady rhythm, forehead pressed to hers, breathing the same air.
When she cums it’s quiet this time, almost silent. A broken, shuddering gasp against your mouth, hips jerking up, flooding you with heat. Tears slip from the corners of her eyes but she doesn’t look away.
The sight of her tips you over.
You cum with a soft, punched out sound, walls fluttering around her, thighs shaking as you grind down one last time.
Afterwards you slump forward, collapsing onto her chest. Her heartbeat thunders under your ear, fast and unsteady, dangerously alive. Her arms stay at her sides. No embrace. No clinging. Just open palms against the sheets, fingers curling slightly like she wants to touch but doesn’t dare.
You lie there. Sweaty. Spent. Breathing hard. Neither of you moves. Neither of you speaks.
You close your eyes, feeling her heartbeat eventually slow under your cheek, the warmth of her body seeping into yours.
For the first time in a long, long time, the ache in your chest doesn’t feel like anger.
It feels like something else.
Something you’re too scared to name.
The following night sees you at a frat house two blocks away, the house raging with noise, sweat and cheap beer.
You came because Mia dragged you, insisting, “You’ve been weird lately, come blow off steam.” You also came because staying in the dorm with Semi’s quiet waiting felt too heavy tonight.
You’re in the short black dress you know turns heads, the one with thin straps and a hem that rides up when you move. It felt powerful when you put it on. Now it just feels like a target.
You’re three drinks in when he finds you.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Frat letters across his chest. The kind of smile that says he’s used to getting what he wants.
“Hey, cheer girl.” He says, voice cutting through the music. “Saw you at the last game. You’re fire on the field.”
You give a polite half smile. “Thanks.”
He doesn’t take the hint, stepping closer. Too close. His hand brushes your arm like it’s casual. When you shift back, he follows.
“You look good tonight.” He says, eyes dragging down your body slow and obvious. “That dress is doing things to me.”
You attempt to laugh it off. “Yeah, well, I’m just here to dance.”
He grins wider. “Dance with me then.”
“I’m good.”
“Come on. One song.”
You turn toward the crowd, trying to melt into the bodies, but he’s right behind you. His hand lands on your lower back. You twist away.
“Don’t touch me.”
He laughs, loud, like it’s funny.
“Chill, babe. Just dancing.”
His friends are watching now, smirking like this is entertainment.
You step back again. “I said no.”
He crowds you anyway, back against the wall now, nowhere to go. “You’re in that dress, shaking your ass all night. I mean, you’re practically asking for it. What’d you think was gonna happen?”
You shove him, hard, and he stumbles back a step, more surprised than hurt. His friends explode into laughter.
“Damn, she’s feisty!”
“What a tease.”
He recovers fast, straightening up. He grins again, but it’s meaner now.
“Whatever. Your loss.”
He turns away like you’re the one who embarrassed herself. His friends keep laughing, loud and mocking, as they slap him on the back and disappear into the crowd, while you stand there, breathing hard, hands shaking.
The music keeps pounding.
No one checks on you.
No one asks if you’re okay.
You push through bodies until you hit the front door, cold night air hitting your face like a slap. You walk fast, heels clicking on the sidewalk, arms wrapped tight around yourself even though it’s not that cold.
The whole way back to the dorm, the words loop in your head.
Asking for it.
Tease.
Your loss.
By the time you reach your floor, your throat is tight and your eyes burn.
You don’t cry yet. You just need to get inside. Get safe.
Get to her.
You push open your door.
The room is dark except for the faint blue glow of Semi’s PC sleep mode. No RGB cycling. No soft lamp on her desk. Her bed is empty, blanket smoothed, pillow untouched, manga volume closed on the nightstand like she left in a hurry.
She’s not here.
Your stomach drops harder than it did when that guy crowded you against the wall. You stand in the doorway for a long second, chest heaving, waiting for her to appear from the bathroom or the common room or anywhere. Nothing.
The silence presses in.
You kick the door shut behind you. It closes too loud. Your bag hits the floor, shoes follow. You don’t bother with the light.
Instinctively, you cross to her bed instead of yours and collapse face down onto her pillow, burying your face in it. Her scent hits you instantly - vanilla body spray, clean laundry, the faint metallic tang of her piercings or solder or whatever it is that always clings to her skin. It’s familiar. Safe. The first real thing that’s felt safe all night.
A sob rips out of you before you can stop it.
Muffled against the pillow at first, then louder, uglier, shoulders shaking so hard the mattress creaks. Tears soak the fabric immediately, your fingers twisting in the comforter like you’ll fall apart if you let go.
Why does this feel safer?
Why does the thought of Semi, of all people, make the panic in your chest loosen just a fraction?
You can still feel that guy’s breath on your neck, the way his grip tightened when you tried to pull away, the way he called you a tease like it was your fault for existing in a short dress. And yet here you are, on the bed of the girl who’s spent weeks staring at your tits, the girl you’ve called a creep to her face, whose bulge you’ve mocked and teased and ridden until she cried.
And you feel… safe.
Safer than you did surrounded by “normal” guys who know how to talk, how to smile, how to pretend they’re not animals.
You hate that realization, how it sits in your gut like lead.
You don’t know how long you cry like that, alone in her bed, in the dark, dress rucked up around your thighs, makeup streaking down your face.
Until the door opens quietly.
You freeze mid sob, breath hitching.
Footsteps stop just inside the room.
Semi.
You feel her staring. That heavy, careful gaze you know so well. She doesn’t move for a long moment. You can hear her breathing, uneven, confused, like she’s trying to process why you’re here, in her bed, crying like this.
Slowly, you sniffle, and lift your head just enough to look over your shoulder through watery, swollen eyes.
She’s standing frozen in the doorway, backpack still slung over one shoulder, sketchbook tucked under her arm, hoodie zipped to her chin. Her lips part like she wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. Her eyes are wide behind her glasses, shining with something raw and heartbroken. She glances at the floor for a heartbeat, throat working hard, then back to you.
She looks like her heart is breaking just from seeing yours in pieces.
She closes the door softly, then drops her bag to the floor with slow, deliberate movements, like she’s afraid any sudden noise will shatter you further.
She shuffles over until the mattress dips behind you. You tense, waiting for questions, for awkwardness, for anything that will make this worse.
She doesn’t give you any of it.
She settles slowly, really slowly, curling her body around yours from behind. Tentative at first, barely touching, giving you every chance to pull away.
You don’t.
You press back into her warmth instead.
Her arm slides around your waist, the most gentle touch you’ve felt all night, thumb beginning to stroke slow, shaky circles on your bare arm.
You break again.
Soft, hiccuping sobs this time, quieter, but deeper. Your whole body trembles. Semi tightens her hold just enough, chin tucking against your shoulder. No words, just steady breathing against your neck, heartbeat thudding fast against your back like she’s scared too.
You cry until your throat is raw and your eyes burn and there’s nothing left but shaky inhales.
She doesn’t let go. She doesn’t ask. She just holds you. Silent. Safe.
And in the quiet space between your sobs and her steady breathing, a realization shifts inside you, slow, terrifying, undeniable.
You’re falling for her.
Not the control. Not the power. Not the way she whimpers when you use her. Just… her.
The girl who freezes in doorways when she sees you hurting. The girl who doesn’t ask why because she knows it doesn’t matter. The girl who holds you like you’re something precious she’s terrified of breaking.
The girl who’s been waiting, patiently, quietly, devotedly, while you’ve spent weeks pretending you don’t need her.
You close your eyes, feeling her thumb still moving in those slow circles, her heartbeat under your back.
You don’t know when you fall asleep, only that at some point the sobs fade to hiccuping breaths, then to nothing. Her thumb keeps moving in those slow circles long after you stop shaking.
When you wake, the room is dimmer. Streetlight filters through the blinds in thin gold stripes. The clock on her monitor says it’s been a few hours.
Semi isn’t beside you.
But you’re not cold.
Her thick black comforter has been tucked around you carefully, edges smoothed, cocooning you from shoulders to feet. Your chest does something painful and warm.
You sit up groggily, blanket pooling around your waist. Mascara is crusted on your cheeks, hair a disaster, dress twisted and wrinkled from sleep. You don’t care.
Semi is at her desk, back to you, headphones half on, controller in her lap. The screen glows, her character inactive mid round. She must have heard you stir because she begins to turn in her chair, and her eyes meet yours.
For a second neither of you moves.
Her lips press together in that awkward, sheepish way she does when she’s nervous. A small, polite smile flickers across her face, hesitant, like she’s not sure she’s allowed to look relieved that you’re awake. Her glasses are slightly crooked. Hair mussed from where she must have run her hands through it earlier.
She just sits there. Waiting. Not pushing. Not asking.
You swallow. Voice raspy, small.
“…What are you playing?”
Semi blinks, startling like you shocked her. For a heartbeat she looks like she’s forgotten how to speak. Then, very quietly, almost a whisper, she answers.
“Overwatch.”
The sound of her voice - low, hoarse, soft around the edges - hits you like a wave. Butterflies erupt in your stomach so violently you almost gasp.
You curse yourself internally. What the fuck? She’s the one who used to stare like a creep. She’s the one who whimpers and blushes and waits. You’re supposed to be the one in control.
But your palms are suddenly sweaty. Your heart is tripping over itself just from hearing her say a video game name.
Semi’s still watching you, careful, like she’s waiting for the punchline.
You clear your throat and force words out.
“…Can I try?”
Her eyes widen behind her glasses, genuine surprise flickering across her face. Then the tiniest quirk lifts the corner of her mouth, not quite a full smile, just… something warm.
She nods, rolling her chair closer to the bed so you don’t have to get up. She sets up a new game and hands you the controller. When you take it from her, your fingers brush. Both of you freeze for half a second but neither pulls away first.
Semi leans in slightly, voice still quiet but steadier now.
“Okay. Left stick moves. Right stick aims. Triggers shoot. This one’s jump, this one’s sprint. You’re Soldier, he’s good for beginners. Just… try not to die in the first ten seconds.”
She sounds almost apologetic.
You’re terrible at first.
You die in under fifteen seconds, running straight into crossfire because you forgot which way is forward. Semi doesn’t laugh or tease, she just murmurs, “It’s okay. Happens to everyone,” while you respawn.
Second round you hide behind a box for thirty seconds before someone flanks you. Her voice stays soft. “Just peek left. Don’t hold it. There. Good.”
Third round you hit someone. Not a kill, just damage. But Semi makes a tiny approving hum.
Then, by some miracle, you line up a shot, click, and the enemy actually drops.
Kill confirmation pops on screen.
You bounce on the bed, one happy little wiggle, a genuine squeal slipping out before you can stop it. “Oh my god, I did it!”
You whip your head toward Semi, seeking approval like a kid with a gold star.
She’s already looking at you, and she’s beaming.
A full, bright, unguarded grin, cheeks rounded, eyes crinkling behind her glasses. It’s the cutest, most disarming thing you’ve ever seen. Pure pride. No hesitation. No fear.
Something inside you snaps taut like a string pulled too hard.
You feel it all at once: warmth flooding your chest, a stupid flutter behind your ribs, your throat closing up like you’ve swallowed something too big.
It’s too much. Too soft. Too real.
You’re still holding the controller, mid bounce from that kill, but the joy quickly curdles fast into panic.
You force a polite smile, the one you use when you need to exit a conversation without explaining why.
“I, um… I need to shower.” You say, voice coming out quieter than you mean it to as you gesture to your mascara streaked face.
Semi’s smile falters, just a flicker, then she nods quickly, like she’s afraid to make it worse.
“O-okay.” She whispers.
You hand her the controller, and your fingers brush hers again. This time you pull back too fast.
You grab your towel and shower caddy from your side of the room without even looking at her, and the bathroom door closes behind you with a soft click. You lock it.
You turn the shower on hot, letting the water run until steam clouds the mirror. When you strip out of your dress and step under the spray, the heat hits your skin like a slap. You stand there for a second, head tipped back, eyes closed, letting the water pound against your face, your shoulders, your chest.
Then the tears come.
Quiet at first. Silent. Mixing with the shower spray so no one could tell the difference. But then they aren’t quiet anymore.
You press your palm to your mouth to muffle the sobs, but they keep coming, deep, aching tears, the kind that hurt your ribs. Your knees buckle, and you slide down the tile wall until you’re sitting under the stream, arms wrapped around yourself, forehead against your knees.
You cry for the guy at the party who wouldn’t listen.
You cry for the way your friends laughed like it was funny.
You cry for the way you laughed with them, calling Semi a creep to their faces while your cheeks burned just from the sight of her.
You cry because Semi, quiet, awkward, devoted Semi, looked at you like you’d just won the world when all you did was click a button and get a kill in a game you barely understand.
You cry because that look felt better than any orgasm you’ve milked from her in the last three weeks.
You cry because you’re falling and you hate it. Because you’ve spent months building walls of control and cruelty so no one could get close enough to hurt you, and she slipped right through without even trying. Because she held you tonight without asking why, without demanding anything, and it felt like coming home in a way nothing else ever has.
The water runs cold eventually. You stay under it until your teeth chatter and your skin is pruned.
When you finally shut off the tap, the bathroom is thick with steam. You wrap yourself in a towel, wipe the mirror with your forearm and stare at your reflection.
You look wrecked.
You feel worse.
You pull on cozy pajamas. Nothing sexy or teasing tonight, just comfort. Just you.
When you open the bathroom door, the dorm is still dim. Semi hasn’t moved from her desk. The game is paused again, and she’s sitting there, hands in her lap, staring at the frozen screen like she’s trying not to look at you.
On her desk, right beside her keyboard, is a plastic bag from the campus takeout place. Two styrofoam containers and a bottle of iced tea.
She swallows when she sees you, looking up slowly. Her voice is barely there, hoarse, nervous, like she’s afraid you’ll snap at her for breathing too loud.
“You… haven’t eaten.” She says. Simple. Factual. “Want some?”
Your stomach flips. Not from hunger, from her. From the quiet way she noticed and ordered food while you were crying in the shower and didn’t make a big deal out of it. From the way she’s looking at you now, not expectant, not demanding, just… there.
Butterflies explode in your chest, wild and frantic. It’s terrifying.
You nod once. Small.
“Yeah.” You whisper. “I do.”
She exhales like she’s been holding her breath for hours. Then she stands, grabs the bag, and brings it over to her bed. You sit on the edge of the mattress together, close enough that your knees brush, but not crowding.
She simply opens the containers and hands you a fork. Doesn’t ask what happened. Doesn’t ask why you cried. Doesn’t ask anything. Just sits with you.
You eat in silence, shoulder to shoulder, while the butterflies in your stomach settle into something warmer. Something scarier.
Something you’re starting to think you might not want to run from anymore.
HEAR ME OUT suupperrr famous rockstar semi x really girly fem reader
" all i ever wanna say is are you mine? "
⊹˚₊ ⤷ pairing: se-mi x fem!reader // wc: 1k
⊹˚₊ ⤷ my masterlist
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brief a/n: i wrote this in the middle of a uni lecture im sorry to the girl who was sitting behind me </3
cw/tw: reallyyyyy flirty/teasing se-mi, the reader is incredibly oblivious
synopsis: se-mi prepares for the final tour of her concert, the reader is there for funsies idk. but se-mi has a crushhhhh.. (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)
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The last thing you expected when stepping into se-mi’s world was for the media to assume you were dating her.
One accidental viral photo of the famous rockstar leaning a little too close—her signature smirk aimed right at you—and suddenly, the internet had declared you her newest lover.
The problem? se-mi wasn’t exactly denying it.
“Should I kiss you, or do you just like to torture yourself?” se-mi teased, leaning against the vanity in her dressing room, watching you through the mirror.
You had come here for a simple explanation, a chance to clear your name before the media frenzy spiralled further out of control. But with se-mi, nothing was ever simple.
“I— I just think maybe we should say something,” you stammered, resisting the urge to fidget under her intense gaze.
“People are going crazy over this. Shouldn’t we tell them it’s a misunderstanding?”
Se-mi hummed thoughtfully, pushing herself off the counter and sauntering toward you. “Hmm… I could do that,” she mused. “But where’s the fun in that?”
Your breath hitched as she stopped just inches away, her presence overwhelming.
“This is fun for you?” you accused, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to ignore the way her eyes flickered down ever so briefly before she grinned.
"of course it is,” she said smoothly. “You really have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
Your brow furrowed and you tilted your head in confusion.
Se-mi’s fingers traced along the edge of your pastel-colored skirt before tugging lightly at the fabric. “You show up looking this cute, all soft and sweet, and I’m supposed to focus on my concert? So unfair.”
You had always been undeniably feminine—delicate lace trims, soft pinks, flowing skirts, and perfectly styled hair. You took pride in your appearance, always making sure your perfume was light and floral, your nails pristine and polished. The contrast between you and Se-mi’s edgy, dark aesthetic was almost comical, yet it only seemed to fuel her amusement. Your wardrobe alone was enough to make her tease you endlessly, calling you her ‘princess’ whenever she got the chance.
Heat bloomed on your cheeks, and you turned away, clutching your purse closer like it would shield you. “That’s not— You’re ridiculous.”
She chuckled, taking your chin between two fingers and tilting your face back to her. “youre really cute, y’know. Should I tease you more or be nice?” She leaned in, her lips a breath away from your ear. “Actually… nevermind. I like watching you squirm.”
Your heartbeat hammered in your chest, and you weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment or something much worse—something thrilling.
Taking advantage of your dazed state, Se-mi moved behind you, placing her hands on your shoulders as she peered at your reflection in the mirror. “Hmm,” she mused. “Since you’re here, you might as well help me get ready.”
Before you could protest, she grabbed a delicate pearl necklace from the vanity and handed it to you, turning around and sweeping her hair over one shoulder. “Be a sweetheart and put it on for me?”
Your fingers fumbled slightly as you reached up, the warmth of her skin under your touch making it impossible to focus. As you clasped the necklace, she turned her head slightly, her lips just barely grazing your knuckles.
You froze.
Se-mi’s gaze flicked up to meet yours in the mirror, a lazy smirk curling on her lips.
“You keep looking at my lips through the mirror.” she murmured, voice dripping with amusement.
You let go of the necklace like it burned you, stepping back quickly. “Y-You’re impossible.”
She laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder before turning to face you fully. “You love it.”
And the worst part was… maybe she was right.
____________________________________
Later, after Se-mi finished getting ready, you found yourself sitting in her dressing room as she picked up a sleek black guitar, idly strumming a few notes. The melody was effortless, her fingers moving with practiced ease over the strings.
You weren’t sure when you started staring, but you definitely were.
Se-mi caught your gaze and smirked without missing a beat. “If you like my hands so much, you could just ask me to touch you, sweetheart.”
Your mouth opened, then closed, heat creeping up your neck. “I wasn’t— I mean—”
She laughed, setting the guitar down and leaning forward, elbows on her knees as she peered at you with amusement. “You’re so easy to tease.”
Before you could argue, she suddenly patted her lap. “Come here.”
You blinked. “What?”
She gestured again, as if it were the most casual thing in the world. “Sit. I need to adjust my tuning, and you’re the perfect armrest.”
You hesitated, but the expectant look in her eyes made it clear—she wasn’t taking no for an answer. Reluctantly, you sat, smoothing down the ruffles of your soft skirt as you felt her arms subtly tighten around your waist while she positioned the guitar again.
“You fit so perfectly," she murmured. "Maybe I should make this a habit—having you right here, all soft and sweet just for me." she murmured. Se-mi chuckled after realizing how forward her words were, but the smug look never left her face.
You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way her breath tickled your neck. “I can sit somewhere else, you know.”
“But where’s the fun in that?” she shot back, fingers gliding over the strings effortlessly.
She kept strumming idly, her voice dropping lower. “You’re so easy to fluster, you know that? I could say anything right now, and you’d probably melt.”
“I wouldn’t.” you mumbled, but your burning face betrayed you.
Se Mi hummed, smirking. “Oh? So if I leaned in right now… whispered in your ear about how pretty you look, how sweet you must taste… if I told you how much I love seeing you like this—all soft, delicate, pliant—just waiting for me to ruin you…” her fingers ghosted along your wrist, tracing slow, lazy patterns, “...you wouldn’t be trembling?”
Your breath caught. She leaned in, lips dangerously close to your skin.
“You’re holding your breath,” she teased, her voice silk-smooth. “Are you that affected, sweetheart? You cant even speak.”
You exhaled shakily, your whole body burning. “se-mi—”
She chuckled, finally pulling away. “Adorable.”
The intimate moment was suddenly interrupted by a knock on the door.
Se-mi sighed dramatically but didn’t move. “Come in, if you must.”
Minsu peeked inside, raising an eyebrow at the scene before them—Se-mi lazily holding her guitar, you sitting in her lap, her arm still draped around you like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“…Am I interrupting something?” he asked, amused.
Se-mi smirked. “Oh, not at all.”
You immediately scrambled to get up, but Se-mi held you firm for a second longer before letting you go, laughing softly as you avoided eye contact.
As the bandmate left, she turned back to you, eyes twinkling with mischief. “So jumpy. Should we play a game to loosen you up?”
You eyed her warily. “What kind of game?”
“A staring contest.” Her grin widened. “Loser grants the winner a favour.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re awfully confident.”
“Of course.” She leaned in, her nose nearly touching yours. “You can barely last five seconds without looking away.”
Determined, you held her gaze. Seconds passed, and despite your best efforts, your face grew hotter under her unwavering smirk.
"You know, if you keep looking at me like that, I might just have to kiss you… and I don’t think you’d stop me."
You lost.
Se-mi tapped her chin, pretending to think. “Hmm. What favour should I ask for?”
“…Just get it over with.”
Her eyes gleamed. “Kiss me.”
Your breath caught. “What?”
She tilted her head. “Unless you’re too shy? I can always think of something else.”
You knew she was enjoying this far too much—but the question remained. Were you really going to back down?
Just as you instinctively leaned in—whether from the moment or the sheer gravity of her presence—you froze. Se-mi grinned, her lips hovering just inches from yours, her breath warm against your skin.
“Were you expecting something, princess?” she teased, voice barely above a whisper.
Your pulse jumped, and you pulled back quickly, flustered. “I-I wasn’t—”
summary: you're with someone who argues with you constantly. semi's been watching from the sidelines, until tonight. when she finally corners you, she's done waiting.
you and him argue like it’s a sport.
whispers echo off cold walls, voices tight with irritation. not enough food, not enough sleep, too much pressure. it’s always something. he pulls you into the games, claims he’s protecting you, but all he really does is bark orders and make you bleed for his pride. semi watches. always watches.
she doesn’t say much. just observes from behind her curtain of dark hair, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. she knows what this place does to people. she knows how it poisons love, turns it into performance.
you’re tired. semi can see it in the way your shoulders slump when you think no one’s looking. in the way you flinch when your boyfriend raises his voice. even if he doesn’t hit.
you shouldn’t be with him. she knows it. she’s known it for a while.
but tonight, it’s different.
it’s time to play mingle.
a voice blares over the speakers. “form groups of three.”
immediately, the room breaks into chaos; people scrambling, calling names, tugging sleeves. a storm of panic. you’re mid-step toward your boyfriend when someone grabs your wrist.
semi.
“come on,” she mutters, dragging you across the room.
you barely process it. before you know it, you’re through the door to one of the designated rooms, and another player slips in just before it locks shut behind you.
three.
correct number. you're safe. for now.
you’re breathing hard. semi hasn’t let go of your wrist. she’s staring at you like this was all planned; and maybe it was.
the other player sits down awkwardly on the far side. says nothing. stays out of it. maybe he senses what’s happening. maybe he just knows not to get in the way.
“you’re bleeding,” semi says.
you glance at your arm. shallow cut. from the scramble, probably. nothing serious.
“it’s fine.”
she kneels in front of you anyway, already tearing a strip from her sleeve.
“sit,” she says. low. steady.
you hesitate.
“sit,” she repeats, softer this time. she doesn’t ask twice out of impatience, just care.
you sit. she wraps the cloth around your arm. neat, tight, practiced.
“you didn’t have to-”
“i wanted to.”
her hands are warm. gentle. more gentle than they have any right to be in a place like this.
“you shouldn’t let him talk to you like that,” she murmurs, not looking at you. “you shouldn’t have to fight just to be heard.”
you swallow. her words land too cleanly. you’ve said all the right things in his defense, over and over. none of them feel true anymore.
“you don’t know him.”
she looks up. her eyes are sharp.
“no. but i know you.”
it’s the way she says it; certain. like she’s studied you. memorized you.
“he doesn’t get you,” she says. “not really. not like i do.”
the room is still. the other player still keeps his head down. maybe pretending not to listen. maybe wishing he weren’t there at all.
“semi-”
“you deserve someone who listens,” she says. “someone who doesn’t shrink you to make themselves feel bigger.”
her voice breaks a little. that’s when you realize, she’s not angry. she’s aching.
“you’re always watching,” you whisper.
“yeah,” she breathes. “because i care.”
a silence stretches long and hot between you. and even with a third person in the room, it feels like you’re alone.
the buzzer sounds. the room unlocks. the moment cracks open and falls apart.
you finish the game. survive the next one, too. but you don’t talk to her again.
not until hours later.
it’s night. the dorms are quiet. you lay quietly in bed, trying to clear your head. she’s already there, in the bed beside you.
“we need to talk,” she says. “come with me.”
you follow her closely into the bathroom.
“why are you doing this?” you ask. “why now?”
she sighs.
“because i’m tired. of watching him treat you like you’re breakable. like you’re something he gets to use.”
“he’s not.. he’s not always like that.”
“don’t do that,” she says. “don’t shrink your pain just because someone else won’t carry it.”
she steps in closer. there’s no fear in her. no shame. just heat and truth.
“i could be better,” she says, quieter now. “i would be. if you let me.”
her fingers brush yours.
“i’d hold you without trying to own you. listen without fixing. stay even when you fall apart.”
your breath stutters.
“why do you care so much?”
her eyes flick to yours.
“because i love the way you laugh when you forget this place is killing you. because you always help people, even when you’re hurting too. because i see the way you still hope. still try.”
she moves closer.
“because i can’t stop thinking about you. even when i should.”
everything slows.
“you want me,” you say.
“yeah,” she breathes. “i want you.”
“you don’t care if i still love him.”
“i care if he doesn’t.”
she touches your face. thumb brushing your cheek. her hand doesn’t tremble. but yours does.
“you’d treat me better?”
“you know i could be a better boyfriend than him.”
she leans in, slow and deliberate. not asking, just waiting.
you don’t say yes.
but you don’t pull away.
when she kisses you, it’s like a match strike. sharp and fast and hot. she kisses you like it’s the only way she knows how to speak. her hands cradle your face like she’s afraid to let go.
and for the first time, you feel wanted. not used. not claimed. just.. wanted.
when she pulls back, breath shaky, her forehead rests against yours.
“i’m not asking for forever,” she whispers. “just… let me have tonight.”
