seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Taiwan
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Sweden
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from China
"You Missed the Point by Idolizing Them" Starter Pack
Taxi Driver (1976) directed by Martin Scorsese
Cybill Shepherd in the early 70s
𓆉 ⋆.˚ 𓆝⋆.˚ MASTERLIST | NAVIGATI⭑N
dni if u racist, homophobic, zionist, sexist, pro ice, in support of the genocide of uyghurs, islamophobe, use AI
if u don’t support Congo, Kurdistan, Sudan, Ukraine and Palestine -> get off here!!
.𖥔 ݁ ˖🛸── .✦ 🏷️ TAGLIST
⨾ tw • ✰ smut • ꨄ︎ fluff • 𓇢𓆸 angst
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Weak Hero
᭄᭡ ͏ ͏ ͏Yeon Sieun
001. Friends help each other out (ft. Suho) ✰
002. birthday boi (ft. Suho) ✰
003. nsfw alphabet ✰ .
004. motivation ✰
005. boyfriend headcanons ✰ ꨄ︎
006. boyfriend headcanons (ft. Suho) ✰ ꨄ︎
᭄᭡ ͏ ͏ ͏ Ahn Suho
ultra masterlist
001. Friends help each other out (ft. Sieun) ✰002. pt. 2 ✰
003. birthday boi (ft. Sieun) ✰
004. NSFW alphabet ✰
005. tired after work ✰
006. boyfriend headcanons ✰ ꨄ︎
007. movie scenes (ft. Kang Wooyoung) ✰
008. boyfriend headcanons (ft. Sieun) ✰ ꨄ︎
009. fun fair ✰
010. helping him out ✰ ( yes, this is the shower one)
011. study session ✰ (coming soon)
012. my best friend’s brother ✰ ꨄ︎ (coming soon)
013. roommates ✰ ꨄ︎ (coming soon)
᭄᭡ ͏ ͏ ͏Oh Beomseok
runaways ꨄ︎
᭄᭡ ͏ ͏ ͏ Park Humin (Baku)
001. Does this count as prep ✰
002. What friends are there for (ft. Gotak) ✰
-> 003. pt.2
004. NSFW Alphabet ✰
005. fun fair (ft. Go Hyuntak)✰
006. shower steam (ft. Go Hyuntak) ✰
007. baby fever ꨄ︎
008. boyfriend headcanons
009. changing room ✰
010. birthday treat (ft. Go Hyuntak) ✰
᭄᭡ ͏ ͏ ͏ Go Hyuntak (Gotak)
001. What friends are there for (ft. Baku) ✰
-> 002.pt. 2
003. speak up ✰
004. I hate that guy (ft. Geum Seongje) ✰
005. boyfriend headcanons ꨄ︎ ✰
006. fun fair (ft. Park Humin) ✰
007. Do it like this (ft. Kang Wooyoung) (coming soon) ✰
008. shower steam (ft. Park Humin) ✰
009. glimpse of the future ꨄ︎
010. morning surprise ✰
011. birthday treat (ft. Park Humin) ✰
012. back to you (sneak peek) ft. Geum Seongje ꨄ︎
᭄᭡ ͏ ͏ ͏ Kang Wooyoung
masterlist
001. not even a day ✰
002. NSFW alphabet ✰
003. boyfriend headcanons ✰ ꨄ︎
004. movie scenes (ft. Ahn Suho)✰
005. Do it like this (ft. Go Hyuntak) (coming soon) ✰
006. a helping hand ✰
007. speak up ✰
008. car sex ✰
009. hideouts (ft. Geum Seongje) (coming soon) ✰
᭄᭡ ͏ ͏ ͏ Geum Songje
masterlist
001. Mark me up ✰
002. Paying off your debt ✰
003. speak up ✰
004. NSFW alphabet ✰
005. I hate that guy (ft. Go Hyuntak) ✰
006. whipped ✰ ꨄ︎
007. bf headcanons ✰ ꨄ︎
008. love untangled ꨄ︎
009. video games ✰
010. Back to you (sneak peek) ft. Go Hyuntak ꨄ︎
011. grounded ✰
012. shark week (coming soon) ✰
013. 28 days (coming soon) ✰
014. hideouts (ft. Kang Wooyoung) ✰
᭄᭡ ͏ ͏ ͏Na Baekjin
001. past shadows ✰
002. unexpected turn of events ✰
003. bf headcanons ✰ ꨄ︎
004. NSFW alphabet ✰
005. distance 𓇢𓆸
᭄᭡ ͏ ͏ ͏Baek Dongha
001. Nsfw alphabet ✰
002. bf headcanons ✰ ꨄ︎
003. bundle deal (ft. Do Seogmok) ✰ (coming soon)
᭄᭡ ͏ ͏ ͏Jeon Yeongbin
001. Kiss and make up (coming soon) ✰
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ headcanons
halloween ✰ ꨄ︎ second chances ꨄ︎ teasing them in class ✰
MORE HEADCANONS & ONE SHOTS
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Brave Citizen
᭄᭡ Han Su Gang
001. cheer up ft. Lee Moon-Ki ✰
002. bf headcanons ✰ ꨄ︎
003. obsessed headcanons ✰ ꨄ︎
004. pillow princess ✰ (coming soon)
᭄᭡ Lee Moon-ki
001. cheer up ft. Han Su-Gang ✰
002. pillow princess ✰ (coming soon)
003. passing time ✰ (coming soon)
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Study Group
᭄᭡ Ma Minhwan
001. who touched you ✰
002. welcome back ✰
᭄᭡ Pi Hanwool
001. showing your gratitude ✰
᭄᭡ Sunchul
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ headcanons
(coming soon)
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ One Highschool Heroes
᭄᭡ Nam Seung-sik
᭄᭡ Kim Seung-Joon
boyfriend headcanons ꨄ︎
˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ headcanons
(coming soon)
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Twinkling Watermelon
᭄᭡ Ha Eun-gyeol
nsfw headcanons ✰
᭄᭡ Ha Yi-Chan
name tags ꨄ︎
᭄᭡ Ha Eun-Ho
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Night has come
᭄᭡ Kyung Jun
boyfriend headcanons ✰ ꨄ︎
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Taxi Driver
᭄᭡ Park Seung Tae
letting off some steam ✰
᭄᭡ Oh Hak So
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Bloodhounds
᭄᭡ Alan
boyfriend headcanons ✰ ꨄ︎
᭄᭡ Baek Jeong
boyfriend headcanons ✰ ꨄ︎
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Notes from the last row
᭄᭡ Lee Kang
eye tag ✰
boyfriend headcanons ✰ ꨄ︎
don't be scared to comment — I love interacting with you all
all rights reserved. please don‘t repost or translate any of my works without permission. this is the only account I post on.
Taxi Driver dir. Martin Scorsese | 1976
hihi ^^ i really like you stories on here and wattpad ^^
can i request a Park Seung-tae with the reader who’s the complete opposite of him, i’m not the best of coming up with scenarios sorry :<
MELON BREAD;pst
Park Seungtae x reader Warnings: Description of violence. NOTE: Hi, this is my first Seungtae shot here, so thank you for requested it, i really hope you like it!
Park Seung-tae lived two lives.
At school, he was the predator. He walked the hallways with his hands in his pockets, surrounded by lackeys who laughed at his cruel jokes, and reveled in watching students lower their heads as he passed by.
And why wouldn't he? He was rich, strong, and had enough power to get out of any trouble.
But at 5:00 PM, when he escaped from extra classes or simply wanted to flee the noise of his idiot "friends," Seung-tae went to the Han River park.
There, on a secluded bench under an old tree, Seung-tae took off his mask of power. He loosened his tie, took off his uniform jacket, and simply stared at the water, smoking a cigarette while hiding it from the nosy old ladies walking past him.
Until you came along.
It was a Tuesday. He was in a bad mood because a teacher had confiscated his phone. He was just about to light a cigarette when a shadow blocked his sun.
"Smoking is going to make your teeth yellow. And you’re too handsome to have ugly teeth."
Seung-tae looked up, ready to insult whoever dared to speak to him that way.
But he was struck speechless.
It was you. You were wearing the uniform of the arts high school two neighborhoods over. A red plaid skirt, a bow at your neck, and a backpack covered in plush keychains that jingled.
You weren't afraid. You had a smile that seemed made of sunshine.
"What do you care?" he growled, though he lowered the lighter.
"I don't care, but I have this left over." You pulled a packaged melon bread and a small carton of banana milk out of your backpack. "My grandma gave me a double snack today, and if I come home with it, she gets sad. Will you help me?"
Seung-tae looked at the bread. He looked at your face. At his school, if someone approached him, it was to beg for mercy or to lick his boots. No one ever offered him melon bread.
"I'm not hungry," he lied.
"Take it. Please." You sat down next to him, leaving a polite amount of space, and placed the food on the bench between the two of you. "I'm ____, by the way."
"I didn't ask."
"I know. But it's rude to eat with strangers. Now we aren't strangers anymore."
Seung-tae glanced at you sideways. You were... strange. Bright. Harmless.
He grabbed the melon bread brusquely, tearing the wrapper. "Seung-tae. My name is Seung-tae."
That was the beginning.
For three months, that park bench became their secret.
You didn't know he was the terror of hundreds of kids at school. To you, he was just Seung-tae, the tall, slightly grumpy boy who was always hungry and listened to your stories about painting class.
He discovered that he liked this version of himself.
With you, he didn't have to be cruel to get respect. He didn't have to prove he had money. He just had to be there.
"Seung-tae!" Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
You were running down the bike path, your scarf flying around your neck. It was cold—November—but your red nose made you look adorable.
Instinctively, he stood up.
"Don't run, you're going to fall," he scolded, but he reached out his arm to catch you when you arrived, panting, in front of him.
"Look!" You pulled a container out of your backpack. "I made cookies! They’re chocolate chip. They got a little burnt on the edges, but they taste good."
Seung-tae took the container as if it were a treasure. "You cooked for me?"
"Well, I cooked for myself, but I thought of you. You always look like you need sugar."
Seung-tae opened the box and ate a cookie. It was hard as a rock and a bit burnt.
It was the best thing he had ever tasted in his life.
"They are... edible," he said, trying not to smile too much.
"Hey! I know you like them!" You laughed and gave him a little nudge on the shoulder.
He looked at you. The sunset light illuminated your face. Without thinking, Seung-tae reached out and fixed your scarf, which had come undone while you were running.
His fingers grazed your neck. You were warm. His hands were cold.
You stood still, looking at him. "Thanks, Seung-tae."
"You're a mess, ____. If I weren't here to look after you, you'd surely freeze."
"Then thank goodness you're here."
Seung-tae's heart, an organ he believed was armored with cynicism and malice, pounded violently.
He realized, with terror, that he no longer came to the park to escape his daily life. He was coming for you.
"Let's go," he said suddenly, grabbing your backpack and slinging it over his shoulder—looking ridiculous with the plush keychains, but he didn't care. "It's cold. I'm treating you to a hot chocolate."
"With cookies?" you asked, eyes shining.
"With cookies."
They walked together toward the nearby café. He walked on the street side, protecting you from the cars, adapting his long stride to your shorter one.
Inside the café, while they waited for their order, a group of loud boys entered. They were from another school.
One of them brushed past you and shoved you hard to get to the counter. You almost dropped your phone.
"Watch it, girl!" the guy yelled at you.
You shrank back, murmuring an apology out of habit.
But Seung-tae didn't have that habit.
His hand, which had been resting relaxed on the counter, clenched into a fist. His expression changed. The sweetness he had with you vanished, and the Park Seung-tae that many knew surfaced.
He grabbed the guy by the hood of his sweatshirt and jerked him backward violently.
"Hey, asshole," Seung-tae said, with an icy voice that silenced the entire café. "Who do you think you are?"
The guy spun around, furious, but upon seeing Seung-tae's height and murderous glare, he hesitated.
"S-she got in the way..."
"She was standing right there. You're the blind idiot who doesn't watch where he's going." Seung-tae shoved him against the wall. "Apologize to her. Now."
"Seung-tae..." you whispered, scared, grabbing his arm. "It's okay. Nothing happened."
He looked at you. He saw the fear in your eyes. Not fear of the guy, but fear of him. Of his reaction.
Seung-tae blinked, snapping out of his trance. He released the boy with disdain.
"Get out of my sight," he spat.
The guy and his friends ran out.
Seung-tae turned toward you, trying to recover his mask of a normal boy.
"Are you okay? He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"I'm okay..." you said, looking at him with curiosity and a bit of worry. "You were very... intense."
"He's an idiot, he could have hurt you." Seung-tae stroked your head, a possessive but gentle gesture. "You're too nice, ____. People take advantage of that. You have to be tougher."
"I don't want to be tough," you replied, taking your hot chocolate. "If we were all tough, the world would be horrible. But I can hire you as a bodyguard, right?"
Seung-tae smiled crookedly. He knew it was a joke, but to him, it sounded very serious.
"I like that job."
In that moment, he thought he could keep the two worlds separated forever. That he could be your hero in the park and the villain at school.
How wrong he was.
Two weeks had passed. It was Saturday. They had arranged to go to the movies at the mall. It was their first official "date" outside the park zone.
Seung-tae was nervous. He had worn his best clothes and combed his hair three times.
He saw you arrive. You were wearing a blue dress that fluttered in the wind and a denim jacket. You looked beautiful.
"Hi!" you greeted, running toward him.
But before you could reach him, a familiar voice shouted behind Seung-tae's back.
"Look who's here! The boss!"
Seung-tae froze.
He turned his head slowly. It was them. His "friends." They were there, with their disheveled clothes, laughing and shoving people around.
"Seung-tae, man, what are you doing here so far from your turf?" asked one, approaching and draping an arm around Seung-tae's shoulders.
Seung-tae tried to shrug him off.
"I have things to do. Leave."
"Things?" The friend looked ahead and saw you, standing a few meters away, confused.
A malicious grin crossed the friend's face.
"Well, well. Is this your 'thing'? She's cute. Very... innocent for you, isn't she?"
"Shut your mouth," Seung-tae warned, taking a step toward you to block their view. "It's none of your business."
"Come on, don't be like that. Introduce us to our new friend." Another one of the boys approached you, ignoring Seung-tae's warning. He looked you up and down shamelessly. "Hey, pretty girl. Do you know who your boyfriend is?"
"Leave her alone," Seung-tae growled.
"Why? We just want to chat." The guy laughed and, trying to be funny, kicked the gift bag you were holding in your hand. The bag fell, and something inside broke. "Ow... how clumsy. I should have asked if it was fragile, right?"
That was it.
Seung-tae lost control. He didn't think about you. He didn't think about the date. He only thought about the humiliation and his natural instinct to always be in control.
He grabbed the boy by the neck and punched him in the face. It was brutal. The sound of the impact made people around them scream.
The boy fell to the ground, bleeding from his nose.
But Seung-tae didn't stop. He got on top of him and hit him again. And again.
"I told you not to touch her!" Seung-tae screamed. "Who do you think you are?! I am Park Seung-tae! When I say something, it happens!"
His other friends, far from stopping him, were laughing and cheering.
"That's it, Seung-tae! Show him who's boss! Give him another one!"
Seung-tae was blind with rage. He felt powerful. He was protecting what was his.
He raised his fist to deliver the final blow...
"Seung-tae! Stop!"
Your scream broke his trance.
Seung-tae stopped, fist in the air, breathing heavily. He looked down. His friend was on the floor, crying and bleeding. His knuckles were red.
He looked up at you.
He expected to see admiration. Or gratitude, like that time in the café.
What he saw was horror.
You were pale, hands over your mouth, backing away. You were looking at Seung-tae as if he were a monster.
"____...?" Seung-tae stood up slowly.
"Who are you...?" you whispered.
One of Seung-tae's friends, who was still laughing, approached you.
"Come on, girl, don't tell me you don't know the King of Sejung. You should feel honored he even noticed a little rat like you."
Seung-tae shoved his friend away. "Shut your mouth!"
He approached you, hands outstretched.
"____, wait. It's not... they provoked it. They broke your gift..."
You looked at the bag on the floor. Then you looked at the blood on Seung-tae's hands.
"You kept hitting him... when he was already on the ground," you said, your voice trembling. "They... They were laughing while you did it..."
"That's how the world works," Seung-tae said desperately, attempting to use his usual logic. "If you don't show strength, they walk all over you. I did it for you. So they would respect you."
"No..." You shook your head, tears in your eyes. "That isn't respect, Seung-tae. That is cruelty."
"I am like this!" he shouted, frustrated that you didn't understand. "Yes, I am, at school. So what? With you, I'm different. With you, I'm good."
"You can't be two people at once..." you said, crying. "You're either good or you're a jerk... The boy... The boy I like can't be a bully..."
"____, please..."
"Don't come any closer."
You took another step back.
"I don't want to be the girlfriend of someone who enjoys hurting others. You scare me, Seung-tae. Right now... you scare me."
That sentence was like a shot to the chest.
Seung-tae froze. He watched as you turned around and ran through the crowd, leaving him alone with his "friends" who were congratulating him on the fight, and with the feeling that he had just lost the only thing that made him feel human.
A month passed.
A miserable month.
Seung-tae went to the park every day. He sat on the empty bench. He didn't smoke. He just waited.
But you didn't show up.
At school, Seung-tae was worse than ever. He was irritable, quiet. His lackeys tried to cheer him up by bothering someone, but Seung-tae just screamed at them to get lost.
He no longer felt satisfaction in seeing fear in others.
Every time he raised his voice, he heard your voice in his head: "You scare me."
And he hated himself.
He realized he had all the money in the world, all the reputation, but he felt poorer than ever because he was missing your burnt cookies and your smile.
One rainy Tuesday, Seung-tae couldn't take it anymore.
He went to your school.
He waited at the exit, in the rain, without an umbrella. He was soaked, hair plastered to his forehead. He looked like an abandoned dog.
He saw you walk out. You were with some friends, laughing, though your laugh didn't reach your eyes.
When you saw him, you stopped. Your friends asked you something, you shook your head, and they left, leaving you alone on the sidewalk.
Seung-tae walked toward you. Not with his usual arrogant stride. He walked slowly, head down.
He stopped two meters away.
"Hi..." he said. His voice sounded hoarse.
"Hi," you replied, hugging your books against your chest like a shield.
You looked at each other in the rain.
"I brought you this."
Seung-tae pulled a plastic bag out of his jacket, keeping it dry. Inside was a melon bread and a banana milk.
"I know you like them," he murmured. "And I know you had a history exam today and were probably nervous and didn't eat."
You looked at the food. Your eyes filled with tears.
"Why are you here, Seung-tae?"
"Because I'm an idiot," he admitted, looking at the ground. "I'm a bully. I'm arrogant. You were right. I'm cruel."
He looked up. His eyes were red, and you didn't know if it was from the rain or because he had been crying.
"But I miss you. I miss you so much it physically hurts. Melon bread is disgusting if you don't give me half of yours."
"Seung-tae..."
"I've changed," he said quickly, as if afraid you would leave. "Or I'm trying to. Really. I don't hit anyone anymore. Last week, one of my friends shoved a kid and I... I helped him up. I felt stupid, but I did it."
You took a step toward him, surprised.
"You did?"
"Yes. And I told my friends that if they bothered the freshmen again, they'd have to deal with me." Seung-tae grimaced. "Now they think I've gone crazy or joined a cult."
A small smile escaped your lips.
"But I don't care," he continued, taking another step, desperate. "I don't care about being the King of Sejung. I don't care if they think I'm weak. I just want to be the guy from the park who you give half your melon bread to. The boy you like. I just want to be Seung-tae for you."
He knelt down. There, in the middle of the wet sidewalk, Park Seung-tae, the millionaire and proud heir, knelt in front of you, soaking his trousers in a puddle.
"Please, ____. Teach me. Teach me to be good. I don't know how to do it alone. I need you."
Your heart broke.
Seeing him like that, so vulnerable, so willing to put his pride aside for you... it was the proof you needed. He wasn't just a bad boy. He was a lost boy who had found his way in you.
You dropped your books, which luckily landed on a dry patch under the bus stop roof, and ran to him.
"Get up, dummy," you said, grabbing him by the shoulders. "You're going to get sick."
"I won't get up until you tell me you forgive me."
"I forgive you." You knelt in front of him, not caring about your uniform. "I forgive you, Seung-tae."
He looked at you as if you were a miracle. "Really?"
"Yes. But you have to promise me you'll keep trying. That you won't use your fists to talk anymore."
"I swear." Seung-tae held your face with his cold, wet hands. "My hands will only be for this. To take care of you."
He kissed you.
It was a cold kiss because of the rain, but warm on the inside. Seung-tae kissed you with devotion, as if you were the air he needed to breathe.
When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours.
"So, are we back to being you and me?" he asked.
"You and me," you confirmed. "And the melon bread."
Seung-tae let out a relieved laugh, that genuine sound only you knew.
"Come on, you have to get changed, it's freezing..."
You both stood up. He picked up your books and took your hand.
"Hey, ____..."
"Yeah?"
"Do you think you could make me those burnt cookies tomorrow?" he asked, looking at you with puppy dog eyes. "I bought some at the bakery yesterday and they tasted like cardboard compared to yours."
You laughed and squeezed his hand.
"Of course. But you're paying for the hot chocolate today."
"I'll pay whatever you want. I'm rich, remember?"
"Shut up and walk, show-off."
You walked in the rain, but Seung-tae didn't care anymore. He was no longer the king of a school.
He was the boyfriend of the melon bread girl, and for the first time in his life, that title was enough.
Playtime
Park Seung-tae x f!reader
Warnings: Bullying, Psychological Manipulation, Obsessive and Possessive Behavior, Mild Non-Consensual Touch.
Summary: Your sweet bully wants to play hide and seek with you.
Note: Anon request!!! Guys I haven’t watched Taxi Driver but I still gave it my all 😔🫶
⸻
Seung-tae had been watching you ever since you stepped foot into this school.
Anyone who met his eyes either changed direction or lowered their gaze and kept walking—but of course, you weren’t that lucky. No one really knew why he chose you. Maybe you were too quiet, too low-key, too “easy.” Or maybe you just happened to meet his gaze that morning when you passed him by.
That’s all it took. That stupid, meaningless moment was enough for him to make you his new obsession. During the first week, he stole your pencil case, then started scribbling disgusting things in your notebook when you weren’t looking. In class, he spat on your back and blamed it on you with no one seeing. He wrote your name and filthy rumors on the girls’ bathroom stall. Even in the hallway, he’d bump into you on purpose, humiliate you in front of others, and then flash that nasty smirk.
The teachers either stayed silent or blamed you. Because he was Seung-tae—the self-proclaimed queen of this school, strutting through hell like he owned it.
And you? You were nothing but his dartboard.
But over time, whatever this was between you two—changed. It turned into something darker. It wasn’t just a bully-and-victim dynamic anymore. Sure, it started simple: he’d torment you, and you would survive, somehow. But then… something shifted.
He wasn’t just trying to humiliate you anymore. He wanted to see you. He watched you when you walked down the hallway, but this time, his gaze carried something far more dangerous than his usual mocking glint. Instead of pushing you, he’d sometimes grab your wrist. Sometimes lean in too close and whisper things—words that, to someone else, might’ve sounded like flirting.
Seung-tae wasn’t trying to tear you down anymore. He was trying to own you. He didn’t look away when he touched you, he watched you when you talked to other people, and when someone got too close to you, they somehow ended up paying for it the next day.
The bullying turned into something worse—some twisted form of possessiveness. He wasn’t trying to hurt you anymore. He liked claiming you. And every time you tried to pull away, he only stepped in closer.
⸻
The hallway was quiet. Too quiet. It had only been a few minutes since class ended, but the building was already empty—everyone had either headed to the courtyard or the cafeteria. You, as usual, were one step behind the crowd. You carried a stack of four or five books, some notebooks. Heavy, but manageable. You weren’t in a hurry.
Your footsteps echoed through the corridor. Then… another sound.
A whistle.
Slow, mocking, skin-crawling. Familiar.
Your legs tensed, ready to run, but your brain kicked in—running would only make things worse. Running meant you were playing the game. His game. So you slowed your pace. Just a little. Like you were already giving up.
You didn’t look back.
But he came anyway. Got right up next to you.
He caught up with you like it was nothing. And without asking, without even blinking, he took the books from your arms. Like they weren’t yours. Like he had a right to everything you carried.
“Damn, they’re heavy,” he said, voice smooth as a cat’s purr but dripping with that usual venom. He cradled the books in one arm, glancing sideways at you. “Don’t want those pretty little hands getting tired, do we, Dolly?”
The way he said that name always pissed you off. Not just the nickname itself—but the tone, the smirk, the fake sweetness laced with poison. It made your stomach twist, yet somehow… you couldn’t move.
Then he draped his other arm around your shoulders. Your skin flinched. His fingers barely touched you, but they felt so heavy. You could feel your breath catch.
He leaned in. You felt his breath at your scalp.
“Wanna play hide and seek?”
His arm slipped off your shoulder. But he didn’t leave. He was still there. Still watching. You tried to look away, but it was useless. When your eyes met his, his pupils were dark. Not bright, not lively—just dangerous.
“I’ll give you a head start.” he said, voice too calm to be playful. It didn’t sound like a game. It sounded like a threat. His lips moved, but his eyes stayed locked on yours. “Use it.”
He paused. His smirk widened.
“If I don’t find you… you win.”
That word—win—sucked the air out of your lungs. Your stomach dropped.
Then he laughed. That classic Seung-tae laugh. Teeth bared, voice raw, and that raspy hiss at the end…
“…but if I do,” he added, stepping back, “you know what happens.”
He turned his back to you. Hands in pockets. Chin tilted up ever so slightly.
“One… two… three…”
You stood frozen as he counted. You couldn’t move, but your brain was screaming: Run.
And so you did.
You turned the corner of the hallway, sprinting blindly. No recess. Classrooms empty. Science lab? Locked. Under the stairs? Too exposed. Finally, you darted toward the locker section—long gray metal lockers, cold and forgotten in a dim corner.
You cracked one open and slipped inside. Pulled the door in carefully. Darkness. Breath heavy. Hands shaking. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears.
Then—you heard something else.
Not footsteps.
Singing.
That creepy little nursery rhyme you used to hear as a kid. In Seung-tae’s voice, slow and spine-chilling.
He was getting closer. Locker doors creaked open one by one. The screech of metal… the slamming… mixed with that haunting melody—it felt like a nightmare.
Then he reached yours.
The door creaked open.
You saw his face in the dark. His eyes locked onto yours. That smile—one of pure victory—spread across his lips.
As the door opened wider, your breath hitched. He’d found you. And in his eyes wasn’t just triumph—there was hunger. His gaze slid slowly down, then back up. He leaned into the tight, suffocating space you were hiding in. Tilted his head, smiling like he’d just found a broken toy.
“You suck at this game.” he whispered, voice somewhere between teasing and something dirtier. He stepped in closer. You tried to shrink back, but there was nowhere to go. You were trapped.
His hand reached for your hair. Not rough, but firm. Like he was reminding you you didn’t need to run—because you were already his. He tugged your head closer. Your breath mingled with his. His face inches from yours.
“But you’re brave.” he said, eyes locked on yours. “Anyone else would’ve screamed by now. Or are you not scared anymore?” He leaned in, nose brushing your scalp. When his skin touched yours, you shivered. You couldn’t tell if it was from fear or the heat of his breath. He inhaled deeply.
“Your hair smells nice.”
His free hand slid around your waist. The grip was possessive. His fingers pressing in a little too hard. He pushed you back against the locker wall. A tight breath escaped your lips.
“I like it when you go quiet.” he murmured into your ear. His voice buzzed straight into your spine. “Not that it’d matter if you screamed. No one can hear you.”
He whispered it, then moved lower, lips brushing just under your jaw. He hovered there. Didn’t kiss. Just claimed.
“What’s wrong?” he whispered again. “You knew what would happen if I won.”
His fingers still tangled in your hair. He yanked you forward, face-to-face again. His eyes devoured you—part twisted satisfaction, part pure obsession. His lips curled into a smirk, laced with something… almost like admiration. For how quiet you were. How you didn’t run. How you were still there.
“This…” he breathed, lowering his head. His lips ghosted your chin, but didn’t kiss. “This is what drives me fucking insane.”
He didn’t kiss you, but left his breath behind like a brand. Then his fingers slid down, cradled your jaw, tilting your face up.
“Your eyes are saying no, but your body?” he murmured. “It’s saying something else.”
His fingertips drifted down your neck, pressing into the spot where your pulse was pounding.
“Right here. Beating fast.”
Both hands now at your shoulders, he slid them down, slow and possessive—over your arms, to your waist. You could feel the fabric shift under his fingers. When his touch grazed bare skin, your whole body flinched. You tried to pull away. He noticed.
“You’re shaking.” he said softly. “I like that.”
He leaned in further. His chest brushed against yours. You could feel his heartbeat now. His breath on your skin. His lips skimmed your neck. Not kissing. Just there.
Then he tilted his head. Pressed his lips to your neck. This time—he kissed. Not with affection. But like a mark. A claim. Not deep. Not tender. Just… unapologetically his.
“You feel like you belong to me.” he murmured, voice barely audible. “And weirdly… you don’t say no.”
One hand in your hair, the other still at your waist. He pulled back slowly. His gaze dropped to your lips. Then back up to your eyes. He stared for so long—it felt like time stopped.
Then he leaned in. Lips barely an inch away. Not touching. Just waiting. His breath warmed your forehead.
“Should I kiss you?” he asked, voice like a needle. “Or would you rather run?”
His fingers dug into your waist. You weren’t going anywhere.
But did you even want to?
His lips almost grazed yours. Your breath stuttered. You closed your eyes.
You were ready. Your body had stopped listening to your brain.
But then—he pulled away.
You opened your eyes. His face was still close. But his lips were gone.
He was just looking.
That sly, wicked grin spread across his face.
“Not in the mood today.” he said, voice mocking and sharp.
He glanced at you one last time.
“We’ll have some fun later, Dolly. Yeah?”
He tapped your shoulder once. Then turned and walked off.
Leaving you pressed against that locker door, out of breath, heart pounding through your chest.
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.
