Have you seen Study Group?
🦁
He Only Listens to You
Pairing: Pi Han-wool x Reader (Y/N) Setting: Canonverse (Study Group timeline, violent high school, fights, tutoring, dark undertones) Genre: Romance, Angst, Action, Obsession, Smut Length: Full one-shot ~10,000+ words POV: Third person (Y/N-focused)
Author's note: Have you seen night has come?
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Y/N didn’t understand what she had done to earn Pi Han-wool’s loyalty.
He didn’t talk to anyone. He didn’t fight for anyone but Ga-min. And he definitely didn’t give a shit about anyone else.
But when it came to her, something shifted in his gaze. He looked at her like she was a secret only he got to keep. Like he could kill for her, die for her, or sit in silence for hours beside her and it would still mean more than anything.
It started during the second semester.
Y/N had been assigned to tutor the bottom five students in Class 3-5. She didn’t complain. Not out loud, at least.
But when Pi Han-wool dragged his chair across the floor and dropped into it with the quiet rage of someone who had seen too much for someone his age, she froze.
“You don’t have to try with me,” he said without looking at her.
“That’s fine,” she answered, flipping through her notes. “I’ll try anyway.”
That night, someone from Class 2-4 tried to grope her on the way home.
The guy didn’t make it to second period the next morning. No one saw Han-wool move, but the guy was found behind the gym with a broken wrist and a shattered jaw.
Y/N never said a word. Neither did he.
But after that, he started sitting closer. He’d rest his cheek on his arm and pretend to sleep while she explained algebra. His eyes were always half-open. Watching her lips. Watching the way her fingers moved. Watching the world only through her.
He only spoke when she spoke to him. He only acted when she was in danger.
When Ga-min went down in a fight and everyone turned to Han-wool, he didn’t move.
Until Y/N whispered, “Help him.”
Then he snapped.
Like a dog off leash, he cut through the crowd like wind. Fists cracked bone. Blood spilled. And when it was over, he came back to her, shirt stained red, eyes asking for praise.
She never gave him what he wanted.
Not then.
The night everything broke open, it was raining.
She found him behind the school, knuckles raw and eyes empty. A cigarette dangled from his lips even though he never smoked. It was someone else's. A threat, maybe. A promise.
“You’re hurt,” she said.
He shrugged. “They deserved it.”
“Who?”
“Anyone who looked at you too long.”
He kissed her like he wasn’t supposed to.
He kissed her like the world was ending.
His hands were cold from the rain but her skin burned wherever he touched. His mouth was rough, desperate, but when she gasped, he pulled back like he had overstepped.
“Do you want me to stop?” he asked.
Her fingers curled into his soaked shirt. “No.”
In her bedroom, he barely said a word.
But the way he touched her said everything.
He stripped her down slowly, reverently, like memorizing a textbook he couldn’t afford to fail. His hands trembled, not from fear, but restraint.
“You’re the only one who talks to me like I’m human,” he whispered against her thigh.
Then he devoured her.
She thought he’d be brutal—and he was, in his own way. But there was a worship in his violence. A kind of hungry need to leave no part of her untouched.
He stayed inside her as long as she’d let him.
When she asked if he wanted to stop, he shook his head and begged, “Not yet.”
After that night, he didn’t change.
He was still silent. Still deadly. Still loyal to Ga-min.
But everyone noticed the way he moved when she walked by. The way he stood behind her in fights, always between her and the chaos.
Someone asked him, half-joking, if she was his weakness.
He looked them dead in the eyes and said, “No. She’s my reason.”
She tried to leave him once.
Told him he was too intense. Too much.
He didn’t argue. He didn’t beg.
He just looked at her like she had gutted him. Then he walked away.
A week later, she woke up with bruises on her window sill—not hers. Knuckles. Like someone had been standing outside every night, fists clenched, watching over her in the dark.
When she confronted him, he just said, “You said I couldn’t have you. Not that I couldn’t protect you.”
She kissed him again.
Harder this time.
When the school collapsed into war, and every faction turned on itself, Han-wool fought without mercy.
But when someone grabbed Y/N by the throat and held a knife to her cheek, he lost it.
He didn’t stop hitting the guy until his own fists split open.
She had to pull him off, whispering his name over and over until he collapsed against her.
“They touched you,” he gasped, voice shaking. “They don’t get to touch you.”
She held him that night.
Let him bury himself inside her again and again until he was too tired to move. Until the only thing he could say was her name.
They called him a monster.
They were right.
But even monsters have someone they’d never hurt.
Someone they’d burn for.
And for Pi Han-wool, that person was her.
Only her.
Always her.
