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.
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.
