Summary: Seongje’s gentle girlfriend protects timid Juntae from Hyoman, and later, Seongje himself steps in to defend Juntae—showing the Union that for her, he’d do anything.
Geum Seongje x reader
A/N: nothing to add here
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Buy me a coffee
The Union had teeth. Everyone in the city knew that. Their name carried weight, whispered with respect or dread depending on who was speaking. And at the center of that name was Seongje — feared, respected, and unbending. He was the kind of man who made a room fall silent just by walking into it.
And then there was you. His girlfriend.
On paper, it made no sense: you, all warmth and softness, someone who could coax laughter out of even the coldest member of the group; and him, razor-sharp, cold-eyed, a man who trusted no one but you. But somehow, that contrast was exactly why it worked. Where he brought the iron, you brought the silk. Where he froze, you thawed.
And because you were with him, you knew everything about the Union. He didn’t keep secrets from you. He never felt the need to. And though you weren’t blind to the darker parts of their world, you loved him — all of him. Maybe that’s why the other Union boys adored you too. You weren’t naïve, but you were kind to them in ways they rarely experienced. When Seongje’s sharp stare had them stiff and nervous, your gentle smile reminded them that not everyone next to him had to be made of stone.
You were on your way to the bowling alley that night, the familiar neon lights glowing faintly in the distance, when you heard voices down a side street.
“Come on, you really that useless?”
You knew that tone. Sneering, sharp. You slowed, peering around the corner — and your stomach tightened when you saw them.
Hyoman, shoulders hunched like a hyena, had his hand clutched in the collar of a smaller boy. Juntae.
You’d seen him before, a handful of times. He wasn’t Union material, not in the way others were. Too timid, too hesitant, like he carried an apology in every step. And that made him an easy target.
Hyoman shoved him against the wall. “What, you too weak to even talk back? Pathetic.”
Something in you snapped.
“Hyoman.”
Your voice cracked through the air like a whip. The two boys froze, heads turning toward you.
Hyoman’s smirk faltered. “Oh, it’s you.” He tried to recover, straightening up, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. Everyone knew who you were. Seongje’s girlfriend. And Seongje’s girlfriend meant untouchable.
Still, his pride made him sneer. “What, you come to rescue your new little puppy?”
You strode closer, your expression flat, cold. It wasn’t often you let yourself be harsh, but you could when you needed to. And this? This was worth it.
“I don’t like weak men picking on someone smaller than them,” you said, voice sharp. “You think this makes you look strong? It makes you look pathetic. And you know what else it makes you look like?” You tilted your head. “Like someone who will never belong to the Union.”
Hyoman stiffened, his jaw working. He didn’t like the way you said it — not with fear, but with disgust.
“Tch. Whatever. Not worth it,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. But his eyes flicked nervously around, as if expecting Seongje himself to appear any second. And with that fear lodged in his chest, he backed off and left.
You turned immediately to Juntae, softening your expression. “Hey. You okay?”
He hesitated, swallowing hard. His eyes darted to you, then away, as if he wasn’t sure if he should even look directly at you. “Y-Yeah. I… I think so.”
You smiled gently, offering your hand. He blinked at it before slowly taking it, letting you help him steady himself.
“Don’t let him get under your skin,” you said kindly. “Hyoman just likes to bark. That’s all he’s good at. If he tries again, let me know. Or…” you smiled faintly, “better yet, let Seongje know. He wouldn’t even get the chance to touch you.”
Juntae’s eyes widened a little. The idea of Seongje even noticing him — let alone protecting him — seemed surreal. But still, he nodded quickly. “Th-Thank you.”
“Anytime.”
The bowling alley was alive with laughter and chatter when you walked in. The boys immediately perked up when they spotted you.
“Noona!” one of them called, waving.
“You made it!” another grinned.
“Yah, she looks way too good to be here with us,” one teased, earning laughter from the others.
You laughed softly, waving back at them all as you weaved through the crowd. They always greeted you warmly — not out of obligation, but because you were genuinely kind to them. They all saw the way you looked after Seongje, and in turn, after them in little ways.
And then you spotted him.
Seongje sat back against the sofa like a king on his throne, cigarette burning low between his fingers, eyes half-lidded but sharp. The second he saw you, though, his gaze softened. The corner of his mouth twitched upward in the smallest of smiles.
You slid in beside him, nestling into his side. His arm immediately draped over your shoulders, pulling you close.
“You’re late,” he murmured.
“Got caught up.” You tilted your head up at him. “I saw Hyoman on the way.”
His gaze sharpened. “Hyoman?”
“Mm. He was bothering someone. Juntae.”
His brows furrowed. “That kid?”
You nodded, sighing. “He looked terrified. I stepped in, but… I just feel bad for him, Seongje. He doesn’t deserve that.”
He exhaled smoke, watching you closely. You could tell he was turning it over in his mind, weighing it, deciding how much it mattered. To him, Juntae was nothing. Not Union, not worth his time. But to you? It clearly mattered. And for him, that was enough to plant a seed.
“Mm. I’ll keep it in mind,” he murmured.
You smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
From across the room, one of the boys called out teasingly, “Hyung, you’re so whipped!”
The others burst out laughing, and even you couldn’t help but giggle. Seongje just gave them a flat look, but the faint pink in his ears betrayed him.
“Shut up and bowl,” he muttered, tightening his arm around you as if to prove his point.
When Seongje saw Hyoman again a few days later, shoving Juntae against a wall, he felt irritation pulse through his veins.
He could have walked past. Normally, he would have. Juntae wasn’t his business. Not Union. Not anyone important.
But your voice echoed in his head. He looked terrified. I just feel bad for him, Seongje.
That softness in your eyes, the way you’d pressed closer when you said it — he wanted to keep that look on your face. Always.
So he stepped in.
“Hyoman.”
The name cut through the air. Hyoman froze, hands dropping from Juntae’s shirt as if burned.
Seongje’s stare was ice cold. “Still picking on someone weaker than you? That’s the only way you feel strong?”
“Hyung—I was just—”
His fist cracked across Hyoman’s face before he could finish. Blood sprayed. Hyoman stumbled, clutching his jaw.
Hyoman glared, but fear swam beneath it. “Why do you even care? He’s not Union!”
Seongje’s lips curled into a smirk, sharp and dangerous. “Because my girl cares.” His voice dropped. “And that’s enough for me.”
Another punch, harder this time. Hyoman collapsed against the wall, groaning. When he scrambled away, it wasn’t with bravado — it was with fear.
Silence lingered.
Juntae stood frozen, trembling, eyes wide. He looked at Seongje like he wasn’t sure whether to run or bow.
“...You okay?” Seongje finally asked.
Juntae nodded quickly, words tripping over themselves. “Y-Yes, thank you. I—”
“Don’t thank me,” Seongje cut him off. “Thank her.” He shoved his hands back in his pockets and walked off, leaving Juntae trembling but safe.
Inside, though, he thought of you. Of your smile when he told you. Of the way your face would light up because he’d done something that mattered to you. And that thought alone made his fists ache less.
That night, when he came home, you were curled on the couch, waiting for him.
“You’re still awake?” he asked softly, leaning down to kiss your temple.
“Couldn’t sleep without you,” you murmured, tugging him down beside you.
He watched you for a moment, then said, “Saw Juntae today.”
Your eyes widened. “You did?”
“Hyoman was on him again. I took care of it.”
You blinked, processing. “You… you did that for me?”
“Of course.” He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. “You wanted him safe. That’s enough.”
Your heart swelled, tears pricking at the edges of your eyes. “I love you.”
He kissed you, slow and certain. “I’d do anything for you. Don’t ever forget that.”
You were on your stomach, lying on sieun’s bed. It was finally a day where you both could just chill and be with each other. No exams, no thoughts, just each other. “Sieun!” You yell from his room, he was making ramen for the both of you as you tried to find something to watch for the two of you. You pad over to his kitchen, finding him stood over the stove, watching the noodles carefully. You smile at how cute he looked. Before you can even try to scare your boyfriend, he turns around blinking at you. “what ya doin’.” You try to play it off, resting your head on his shoulder. “they’re almost done.” He says lightly, glancing at you. His lips curving at your failed attempt. You hum, pulling back so he can finish up the noodles. He places them into bowls, turning around with yours in hand. “It’s a little hot so be careful.” He looks at you with those cute doe eyes of his. You smile warmly walking over to him. You gently grab the bowl out of his hands, placing it on the counter. He watches you with confusion written all over his face, eyes blinking at you. Sieun can’t even register what happens next. You just slyly slip your fingers in his belt loops, pulling him into a kiss. It’s quick but playful, it has you pulling away with a smirk. His eyes are a little wide and of course blinking at you. His cheeks and ears flush a deep red, his brows furrowing a bit. “W-What was that for…?” He tried to question, trying to ignore how warm he’s feeling. You shrug. “Just wanted a kiss.” You smile, happily grabbing your noodles. “You’re not uncomfortable? You should change into sweats.” All he can do is nod, his head down as he sputters away. He needed this moment to recollect himself.
suho
Maybe it was a little silly for the both of you. But you both had silently agreed to this little war between you both. Harmless of course, but still competitive. Sure it was cliche but you both enjoyed every second of it. All of this being on who could make each other the most flustered. On a daily occasion you both would catch each other off guard. Laugh about the stupid acts you’d pull on each other after. But today you had a plan. And you were going to succeed. Suho knew much that your smirk didn’t mean a good thing. “What’re you planing huh?” He said to you as he organized the utensils in his grandmas restaurant. It was well over closing hours, leaving just the two of you alone. “What’re you talking about?” You laughed, passing him chopsticks so he can place them where they needed to be. “I know that smile baby. I’m no rookie.” He wiggled his finger. You giggled, stopping in your tracks. This caught his attention, making him glance up at you. “What’s up—” He was going to say before your hands looped between his belt loops, pulling him towards you. He let out a sound of surprise, eyes going wide when your lips met his. You kissed him passionately, one hand untangling from his belt hoop to caress his face. When you pull away you’re only an inch apart. He’s breathless, eyes still lidded. His cheeks are pink, gazing down at you with need. He lets out an airily chuckle. “That’s what you planned?” He says in amusement. “Mhm. Did it work?” You say, grazing his lips. “Yea. It did.” Is the last thing he says before pulling you back in.
humin
You were annoyed. scratch that—pissed. You just wanted to have nice date with your golden retriever of a boyfriend at this nice cafe. But god this girl would not stop hitting on him. You clicked your tongue for the millionth time. Watching as the barista terribly hits on your boyfriend. He was just trying to get your guys drinks and come back. But she had other plans obviously. You chew at your lip, watching as she grazes his arm, laughing a little too loud. “You’re so cute! We should definitely hang out sometime. You’re definitely my type.” Ok. Bold. You would honestly love to see what your boyfriend would say but you weren’t having it. You get up and walk with a little more urgency toward him. Before he can even open his mouth. Your finger hooks one of his belt loops, catching him off guard. “Hm?—oh! Babe—” Your lips meet in a harsh kiss, Humin’s on autopilot. His eyes closing, trying to savor the kiss. You crack an eye open to see the girls face contort in horror—you smile. He’s a little dazed when you pull back, blinking rapidly. You grab your drinks, moving back to your seats. He slides in next to you, turning to you. “Whatever you did over there was really hot.” He laughs, rubbing your leg soothingly. You sip on your drink with a pout. “You know I was just gonna tell her I had a girlfriend and point to you but you stole the show.” He kisses your forehead. “Whatever Humin.” You grumble. “Aww come on baby don’t be jealous! Not after that stunt you pulled.” Somehow you’re the one blushing over this???
gotak
“baby i gotta go.” Gotak said for what felt like the millionth time. Your lips just wouldn’t leave his and honestly he wasn’t complaining. But Baku would kill him if he didn’t show up for practice. You groan. “Just one moreeee.” You drag out. “I still need to change! Practice is gonna start soon.” He said in between your kisses, his resolve slowly slipping. I mean realistically the consequences wouldn’t be that bad right…? You don’t reply, your hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Shamelessly making out with your boyfriend outside the entrance to the gym. You break the kiss and he smiles softly at you. “I’ll stop by your house after practice ok?” He says slowly pulling away. You just stare up at him, silently pleading. He’s gonna go insane. “Fine…basketball wins today.” You pout but not before you get one last kiss in. So you smoothly tug your boyfriend on to you by his belt loops. Giving him one last longing kiss. He’s stunned after, not fully pulling away from you. He laughs, gently resting his head on your shoulder. “Gosh, you’re a lot to handle you know?” He can’t ignore the way his heart is pounding out of his chest. You run your hands through his hair, as he reluctantly stands up. “Have a good practice!” You smile. “I don’t even know if I’ll be able to focus after that…” He says more to himself than you. “I’ll be by later ok? I love you.” He pecks the crown of your head. “I love you too.” Before you leave you peak your head in, waving to Baku. “Stop distracting him!” Baku points at you, you stick your tongue out and Gotak laughs. What was he gonna do with you.
꣑ৎ― all characters depicted are 18 years or older consenting adults. │ wc: 3,8k
cw (please read & proceed with caution): adult content / s*xual themes / 18+ mdni / consensual adult intimacy / power dynamics / p in v / fingers / fem! reader / muffling / attitude reader / overst!m
pairing: boyfriend! yeon sieun x female reader
⤷ sypnosis: you and sieun are dating. you’ve been giving him the silent treatment and attitude for days. He’s been patient—until he isn’t.
reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated ♡ + ↻
੭﹕﹒AGAIN, MDNI 18+ 彡
masterlist . ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐
ᴺᵒʷ ᵖˡᵃʸᶦⁿᵍ ♬⋆.˚ Daddy Issues - The Neighbourhood
ᴺᵉˣᵗ ᵁᵖ ♬⋆.˚ Coming Down - The Weeknd
The window stood open, the cool night breeze slipping quietly through the room, soft enough to clash with the sharp expression set on your face.
It was already past midnight.
Sieun sat at his desk, surrounded by scattered papers and highlighted notes, the low voice of a woman explaining calculus from his laptop filling the otherwise silent apartment. His father had gone to sleep not long ago, leaving the house drowned in familiar night silence.
The dim desk lamp highlighted the tired shadows across Sieun’s face, but his expression stayed razor-sharp, completely focused on his notes. His pen moved steadily across the page while his eyes scanned formulas like he’d forget how to breathe before he forgot an answer.
Across from him you sat on his bed. Phone open.
Your phone rested loosely in your hand as you mindlessly scrolled through it, barely paying attention to anything actually on the screen. Every few seconds, your eyes drifted back to Sieun instead.
Watching the way his expression tightened when he focused. The absentminded way he ran a hand through his hair while rereading a page. The way he leaned back in his chair every now and then.
And somehow, that only made your annoyance worse.
You’ve been silently mad at him for the past few days, and it shows in everything you do. The way you ignore his messages, the way you look away the second he tries to make eye contact, the cold two word replies to anything he says.
Sieun tried bringing it up. Tried talking to you about it more than once, calm as always, like he could just solve it if you’d give him something to work with, but you refused every time. You didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to explain anything, just stayed stubborn and distant no matter how many times he tried.
And still, he didn’t give up. Of course he didn’t. He had the patience of a saint when it came to you. He just took it, let you be annoyed, let you push him away, stayed there anyway like it didn’t bother him. But everyone had a limit eventually, even him.
The worst part was that the reason you were mad at him in the first place was so stupid. Too stupid to even say out loud without sounding insane. He had left you on delivered for hours on Monday.
You glance back down at your phone, thumb moving aimlessly across the screen as your thoughts drift.
The sound of his desk chair sliding slightly across the floor breaks the quiet.
Still, you don’t look up.
“Do you want a snack?” Sieun’s calm voice cuts through the room.
“No,” you answer flatly without even sparing him a glance.
“You sure?” he asks after a beat. “You haven’t really eaten much today.”
Silence.
You keep your eyes on your phone, pretending to be absorbed in it.
Sieun exhales softly through his nose, a quiet sigh lingering between you. You don’t notice him stand up until he’s suddenly right in front of you, close enough that your attention finally snaps off your phone.
He steps in without hesitation, pushing your knees apart with his own as he settles over you. Your back meets the mattress, the movement so sudden it steals the rest of your breath, and you look up at him, still caught off guard.
As he holds himself above you, using his hands on either side of your body, he dips his head lower and places a gentle kiss against your neck. So soft that you feel your attitude begin to melt away. Damn this guy and his softness.
His lips were warm against your skin, using your neck as a canvas for his soft kisses. Pressing each one like it was wrapped in an apology he didn’t know how to form out loud.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he says between soft pecks, his voice calm as ever. Low, velvety, like it settles right under your skin and caresses the insides of your ears.
“Nothing,” you lie instantly.
“You know I can’t help you if you don’t explain,” he says, pulling back just enough that your faces are only inches apart now, his gaze steady on you.
You stay quiet for a moment, then finally give in.
“You left me on delivered. On Monday.”
The second it leaves your mouth, you internally regret it. It sounds so stupid out loud.
Sieun raises a brow, genuinely confused.
“I see you every day,” he says simply.
“That’s not the point,” you murmur, frustration creeping back in. “You always do this. You just analyze everything instead of acting like my boyfriend.”
There’s the smallest shift in his expression at the word boyfriend—so subtle you almost miss it. Like it catches him off guard for half a second. Softening the look in his eyes. He loved when you called him that. Even though you’ve already been dating for months, it never fails to make him happy.
Then he leans in again.
“I am acting like your boyfriend,” he says quietly, so softly it feels like his voice alone is creating an enclosed, intimate space between the two of you.
And before you can respond, he kisses you. Soft, gentle, cutting off whatever you were about to say. His kiss starts soft. Against the exterior of your mouth. Like he’s probing and eating at any ounce of attitude you may have left in your body.
Then, it turns hungry. Deliberate. Yet still intimately slow. His tongue darts out at your mouth and you part your lips, kissing back with the same hunger in your body. Your tongues swirl around each other in a dance.
The moment is quiet, except for the soft sounds of wet kissing and the laptop still playing on the desk.
“You’re annoying me,” you say, the protest weak and forced, like you don’t even believe it yourself. You say it, then don’t move away, not really meaning it in the way your words suggest.
“Mm,” he hums in response, clearly unconvinced, almost amused by how little effort you’re putting into staying mad at him. Resuming his tongue kisses.
His hand moves lightly between your bodies, brushing over your skin in a way that makes you shiver. It traces the goosebumps that rise there, like he’s noticing every small reaction you try to hide. His fingers unbutton your pants, followed by the low sound of the zipper sliding down. You lift your hips instinctively. Your body knows exactly what it needs. Soon, your pants end up by the bed.
His fingers hook into the hem of your panties. “Off,” he says simply, and you comply immediately. Your panties join your pants on the floor.
“Let’s see how well that attitude holds up,” he says casually as he kneads your thighs, his fingers digging into them until your breath catches in your chest.
He makes his way down, fingers ghosting down your body, moving slowly on purpose. Making your body instinctively writhe under him. Your breathing coming out in uneven sharp exhales.
“This… won’t make me nicer,” you manage to murmur between uneven breaths, already overwhelmed.
“Mm, I’m sure, baby,” he answers simply, a subtle smirk playing at the corner of his lips. One hand gently pries your thighs apart, pushing one back.
His fingers glide gently down your already wet slit, the moisture gathering on his fingertips. His throat works as he bites back a groan, the feel of your slickness on his fingers already tenting his pants.
“You’re soaked,” he breathed. The tip of his finger brushed gently over your sensitive nerve bud, so lightly it felt like he was testing the waters before overwhelming your body. Earning a soft gasp from you.
“Shh, baby,” he murmured, continuing his gentle circles over your bundle of nerves. Your body jolted at the sensation, heat rushing through you instantly. You had to stay quiet, careful not to wake Sieun’s dad. But, fuck it wasn’t easy. “You’re being so needy.”
He lifts his hand to your mouth, his ring and middle fingers extended.
“Open,” he says, parting your lips with them. You comply, and he slides his fingers into your mouth, wetting them with your own saliva. “You gonna be quiet for me?”
You nod with his fingers still in your mouth. Your tongue swirls around them as you suck gently, and he groans in response. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. You taste yourself faintly on his fingers before he pulls them out, your saliva glistening in the dim light of the room. He purposefully grinds his hard outline against your thigh, making you feel it. “See what you’re doing to me?” he says, straining against his pants.
His fingers find your heat. Slowly, teasingly, he traces gentle circles around your sensitive entrance, keeping you waiting. You shudder at the feeling, hips bucking instinctively toward his hand. His gaze was piercing but calm, pinning you to the bed without him having to move at all.
“What’s wrong, baby?” His fingers kept you right on the edge, not moving an inch away or an inch closer to where you most needed them.
“Sieun, please…” you pleaded, breathless. You clenched around nothing at the attention to your sensitive center.
“Please…” he simply echoed.
“Please…” you repeated.
“You don’t deserve it.” He pulls his fingers away completely, depriving you of a single touch again. “Earn it.”
“Sieun…” your voice comes out weaker than you intend, more like a whine than anything else.
He looks at you with a interested expression.
Your earlier attitude is completely gone now, replaced by something softer. More desperate, in a way you hate how easily he can draw it out of you.
“No,” he says quietly. The rejection stings deep in your bones.
You frown, frustration flaring all over again. “You’re being mean.”
A faint breath leaves him that almost sounds amused.
“You were ignoring me for three days,” he reminds you calmly, one hand brushing lightly against your thigh. “I think I’m allowed to enjoy this a little.”
He suddenly sits up, moving back against the headboard of the bed and settling there instead. You stare at him for a second, confusion immediately crossing your face at the sudden distance between you. Until he taps his lap once.
“Come here,” another tap.
You obey immediately, crawling across the bed toward him without even thinking about it. Your cleavage was on full display as you bent over. And his throat moved as he swallowed his breath. Gaze never leaving yours.
The mattress dips softly beneath you as you move back into his space, your earlier annoyance completely melted away by now.
The second you reach him, Sieun’s hands settle on your waist and he effortlessly pulls you onto his lap, turning you so your back rests flush against his chest. He pulls your shirt off, unhooks your bra, and tosses it to the side right after.
You let out a small breath at the sudden cold breeze surrounding you from the open window. Brushing your most sensitive areas, making your sensitive peaks harden against it.
With a rough hand, he immediately kneads your chest. His warm breathing skims against the back of your neck and ears as he speaks, voice low enough to send a shiver down your spine.
“Spread your legs,” he says, tapping your thighs. You do as he says. He lifts your knees, your feet settling on either side of his thighs. “Good girl.”
A hand slowly slips down your chest and stomach, and you watch it happen almost distantly, like it belongs more to the shadow behind you than to Sieun himself. You can’t see his face from this angle, but somehow that only makes it worse.
Because even without looking, you know that faintly amused expression is there. He was enjoying this.
His hand dips lower and his fingertips find your sensitive nerves, tracing it gently. A soft, uneven breath slips from you at the sensation, your head tilting back instinctively against his shoulder, like your body is searching for something steady to hold onto in the moment.
“You want them inside, baby?” he asks and you nod.
In a steady line moving downwards, his fingers find your entrance and gently slide two fingers in. You buck your hips forward, and he presses a hand to your stomach, pinning you back against him. “Ah, ah, don’t move,” he orders softly into your ear. “patience,” he reassures from behind.
He starts pumping his fingers in a controlled, slow rhythm—in and out—drawing those long-awaited moans from your mouth. With each stroke, your walls clench tighter around him. He groans softly, feeling your body respond. He curls his fingers inside you, picking up speed as he goes.
The sounds he pulls from you are unholy. Without pausing for a second, his other hand moves to your face, his palm covering your mouth and muffling the noise. As soon as you’re silenced, his fingers move even faster, wet sounds echoing off the walls. Squelch, squelch. Coupled with his rough, low groans and your uneven breathing.
“Mmphm…” you moan into his palm, hips bucking against his fingers as your back arches off his chest. Your hips move to his rhythm, but you have none of his control. You’re sloppy, desperate, overwhelmed. Meanwhile, Sieun stays completely focused, hitting the exact spot that has you seeing stars every time. “Good girl, fuck yourself against my fingers,” his whispered encouragement into your ears only makes your hips stagger a little.
“Fuck, you hear that?” he let’s out a shaking breath from behind as the wet noises turn even more obscene. Even without seeing it, anyone could paint a clear picture of how lewd it was from the sounds alone.
Your breath hitched as your thighs suddenly started twitching in response to the continues play against your sweet spot. “Mm, that’s it…” he hums in response.
Feeling your body about to reach the edge, he suddenly pulls his fingers out, leaving you empty, clenching around nothing. Your breath hitches and your thighs tremble. A whine escapes your mouth as your hips buck, chasing his touch.
Like if you reach them fast enough, he’ll take pity on you and fill you up again.
He slides them back in just as suddenly, not for your sake, and starts pumping and curling them at the same relentless pace. Your hips snap back, and your body jolts at the shock to your nerves.
He lets go of your mouth, and his hand cups one of your breasts, settling there warm against the softness of it.
He rolls one of your sensitive peaks between his fingers and places wet open mouthed kisses against the side of your neck. “So sensitive and responsive…”
“Fuck, Sieun… I’m gonna…” and suddenly you’re right back at the edge, about to cross it once more.
He pulls his fingers out again, and this time your whine is louder, followed by a wet whimper. “Please, please, please…” you plead, your voice hanging in the thick intimacy of the room.
“You’ll cum when I allow it,” he replies, unbuttoning his pants as he speaks. He pulls them down just enough, his already painfully hard shaft springing free and settling between your folds on his lap. “Stay still for me, baby.”
Rubbing soothing circles into your thighs with his thumbs, he aligns the head of his length with your entrance and eases in. You let out a moan, and he covers your mouth instantly.
As he sinks the rest of it in, it slides smoothly, without resistance. With a groan in your ear, he bottoms out and stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust and himself a chance to breathe. You look down, watching the mess between your bodies.
“Shit, you took it so well,” he murmurs, his chest rising against your back as he takes sharp breaths that feel cold against his teeth.
You feel each ridge against your interior. Each vein pulsating a different kind of need. And you react back. With the same pulsing beat.
For a moment, neither of you moves. Just staying there in the same quiet space, the distance from the past few days finally collapsing back into something close again.
You, still stubbornly silent. Him, letting you be.
His hand lingers on you, slow and steady, tracing soft, grounding circles against your thigh. After a beat, he starts moving, gently thrusting up into you.
You watch his shaft disappear inside you from above. His palm feels slick against your mouth, damp from where you drooled while moaning into it. You feel him twitch subtly inside you, like his body couldn’t wait to empty itself.
His groans are low—low enough that only you can hear them. It stays between the two of you, suspended in the dim, intimate light of the room like the rest of the world doesn’t exist outside of it. Each thrust inside you felt like he’s punishing you in his own way for ignoring him. Like he’s letting the tension speak where words failed earlier.
His hand finds your bud of nerves and he traces his fingers against it, along with his thrusts. You bite onto his palm and he lets out a pained grunt, pressing it further into your mouth. Just holding steady, like he’s refusing to give you the satisfaction of a reaction. Loving the way he was overwhelming your body with the doubled stimulation.
Moving his hand away, he plunges two fingers into your mouth. Making you gag roughly against them. Your sounds turning wet and choked.
“You… You were so confident ignoring me earlier.” he murmurs, breathlessly into your ear. “Now look at you.” His warm breath ghosts over the back of your neck and makes you shudder and buck against his shaft, taking him deeper accidentally. He bites back a moan. “You’re taking it so well for me.”
Another gag around his fingers sends a shudder down his body.
Sinking further into your warm velvety walls. Making a mess between your bodies, the sopping noises hang loosely in the room.
“You wanted my attention. You got it, baby,” he thrust upwards faster. The head of his length hitting your cervix making your back arch off of him with nowhere to go.
“Mmgh..” you muster up what sounded like a pathetic clogged whimper, your thighs spasming as you feel a continues teasing against your nerves down below. Moving his fingers even faster, his tongue darts out to lick the back of your neck. Like he’s tasting your consumption. Your body completely overcome.
Your thoughts only being him. Sieun, Sieun, and once again Sieun.
A soft sniffle escapes you, and he notices immediately. If anything, he only seems to double his efforts, more attentive now, as your eyes start to well up. Tears spill over despite you trying to hold them back, his hand still steady as if grounding you through it.
“No, don’t cry now… you can take it,” he murmurs softly, pressing a brief kiss to the back of your neck as you tremble in his arms. The sound of skin slapping against skin now prominent in the room as his thrusts get harder.
He was taking retaliation in his own way for ignoring him. And despite your disheveled state, you didn’t ask him to stop. Didn’t say the safe word. You wanted it. You liked it.
Your body shakes in small, uneven jolts, your breath unsteady as you try to hold yourself together. He doesn’t let go, keeping you anchored against him even as you lean forward slightly, your back slowly easing away from his chest in broken, unsteady movements. He throws his head back against the headboard and shudders against your body as you clench around him. As if by reflex, your body was milking him of every drop he had.
Finally, flooding all at once, you gush all over his shaft in an eruptive warm flow. Your breaths came out in sharp, uneven pulls despite his attempt to muffle the sound.
”Oh, fuck, there we go,” he praises from behind. His sheets were now completely soaked, the evidence of your pleasure having tainted them through to the other side. “Good girl, baby, such a good girl…”
Your movement looked like they were put in slow motion. As your high had left your head dizzy and clouded over how powerful it was.
He takes his time, lingering there as if he’s deliberately easing himself toward his own breaking point too. Like seeing you finally finish gave him the okay to start focusing on himself.
One of his hands finds your right thigh and he holds it back. He moves more urgently now. “Stay still, please,” he weakly pleads. You grip his forearm tightly, his hand locked around your thigh as he holds you open for himself. The muscles in his arm strain under the effort, veins standing out as his body tenses.
The bed creaked under the movement as he drove into you.
His hand now switched back to a flat palm against your wet mouth.
One twitch. Two. Three. You feel it all. And you know he’s about to make a bigger mess than you.
“Fuck…” he gasps, pulling out of you suddenly. And as soon as he does that, his release lands on your stomach immediately. With uneven yet powerful spurts. His hips stutter at the feeling.
His fingertips dig into your thighs, groans blessing your eardrums.
You can feel him trembling beneath you, tense and unsteady as he comes down from his high. “Oh, fuck…” he curses again.
You collapse into his lap and his head tips forward, his forehead resting against the back of your neck. Both of you are breathing unevenly, trying to catch your breath together in the same quiet moment.
Your bodies glistening with a thin layer of sweat.
Chests rising in heavy breaths.
He weakly lifts his head up, placing messy kisses against your sweaty face. Laying you flush against the mattress gently. He settles next to you, pulling you closer. Your head rests in the crook of his neck.
“You did so good, baby” he says quietly, brushing your hair back with a steady hand. “Breathe… it’s okay now.”
His touch is slow and reassuring, and the intensity from earlier begins to fade, replaced by something quieter and safer between you.
He reaches for a water bottle from the side table, helping you take a few sips.
He turns to place a kiss against your temple. “Let’s be honest when we’re sad, hm?”
You nod.
You both turn your attention to the laptop still playing the same calculus video. And he grins at you. “She has been talking the entire time.”
Which draws a soft shaky chuckle out of you.
The rest of the night settles into silence, the two of you curled up together in bed, finally still.
Now I would die to see a sieun ver of “you came on my lap?”😝😝
Not On Purpose
baku version su-ho version hyun-tak version seongjae version yeongbin version wooyoung version beomseok version
Pairing: Si-eun x fem!reader
POV: 3rd person, reader-insert
Tone: Softly filthy, restrained tension, quiet dominance
Content Warning: Grinding, accidental orgasm, possessive behavior, mild overstimulation, soft dom Si-eun, filthy language
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Y/N was always touching him. Always climbing into his space like it was hers to claim.
He never said anything. Not when she sat too close. Not when her hand found his arm, his wrist, the hem of his shirt. Not when she kicked her legs over his lap while he studied.
She was affectionate like that—obnoxiously soft. He was not.
So when she clambered over him that afternoon and plopped herself right down on his lap like it was the couch cushion, he didn’t react.
Didn’t even look up from his book.
"You’re so warm," she murmured, leaning into him.
"Hn."
She wiggled a little.
That got his eyes to flick up. Barely.
"Y/N."
"What?" she said, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "You’re comfy. I’m cold."
"That’s not my problem."
But he didn’t push her off. Didn’t tell her to move.
So she stayed there, straddling one of his thighs. She leaned forward just enough to hook her chin over his shoulder and let her body melt against him. Her cheek rested against the slope of his neck. She could feel the quiet, steady way he breathed.
Everything about him was calm. Controlled. Still.
It made her want to ruin it.
She shifted again, slowly this time, grinding her hips just enough to feel the seam of her shorts drag against the denim of his jeans.
A sharp inhale. Barely audible.
His fingers tightened around the edge of the book.
"Are you serious?" he asked quietly.
She blinked, innocent. "Serious about what?"
He turned his head slightly, just enough that she could see his eyes. Flat. Dangerous.
"Don’t play with me."
"I’m not," she said softly. “I’m just—sitting.”
"That’s not what you’re doing."
Still, he didn’t stop her.
Maybe that’s what made her bold enough to do it again. A slow, tentative roll of her hips, just once. And again.
It wasn’t even about getting off. Not at first. It was the feeling of it. The friction, the heat, the fact that Si-eun wasn’t moving at all—but his jaw was clenched tight, his hands stiff, his breathing sharper by the second.
She wasn’t sure when her breath started catching. When the ache between her legs turned real. When her fingers dug into his shoulders just to steady herself.
Si-eun didn’t help. Didn’t guide her hips, didn’t touch her, didn’t even shift to let her grind easier. He just watched—eyes pinned to her like he was memorizing the way she moved. The wet, shameful drag of her soaked panties against his thigh. The way her lashes fluttered and her mouth parted, panting.
She started trembling.
“I—fuck,” she whispered.
Her forehead dropped to his shoulder. Her thighs were clenching tight around him now, her hips chasing that friction desperately. His thigh was soaked. She didn’t care.
One more grind. And another. And then—
Her whole body seized. Heat burst low in her stomach, and she moaned against his neck—soft, broken, and shocked.
She came.
Right on his lap.
She didn’t even realize what happened until she collapsed against him, breathing hard and trembling, hips still twitching with the aftershocks.
There was a long silence.
Then his voice—low, calm.
“You came on my lap?”
Her heart dropped. She jerked her head up, horrified.
“I—I didn’t mean to—Si-eun, I swear, I wasn’t—”
“You weren’t trying to?” he asked, still staring at her. His voice was unreadable. Flat.
“No— I mean yes— I mean I was just—fuck,” she breathed, cheeks burning.
She moved to climb off him, but his hand caught her thigh. Firm. Heavy.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Y/N froze.
His eyes dropped, scanning the mess between them. Her soaked shorts. The dark spot staining the denim of his jeans. He pressed his fingers against her core, slow and deliberate.
She choked out a gasp.
“…Still sensitive?” he murmured.
Her thighs twitched.
He slid his hand between her legs, brushing over the soaked fabric with featherlight touches. Teasing. Mean.
"You really couldn’t help yourself," he said quietly.
"I—I didn’t mean to," she whispered.
"But you did." He leaned in, voice like a whisper against her ear. "And now you’re going to do it again."
Her breath caught. "Si-eun—"
He hooked his hands under her thighs and pulled her closer until their hips were flush. She could feel the heat of him beneath her now—hard, barely restrained. She hadn’t even noticed how turned on he was until now.
"You think I’m just going to let you make a mess like that," he said softly, "and not take it personally?"
She squirmed. His grip tightened.
"You’ll sit still," he murmured, voice cool. “And you’ll come again.”
“But—”
“Do you want me to fuck you right here?”
Her mouth opened. No sound came out.
He watched her. A flicker of something darker in his eyes.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he said, gaze fixed to her face. “Me, pinning you right here, making you cry all over my lap.”
Y/N whimpered.
“But not yet.” He leaned closer. “If I fuck you now, it won’t be gentle. You’re already shaking. You’ll get overwhelmed.”
His hands shifted under her thighs, lifting her slightly and then guiding her hips back down—right against his thigh.
She gasped. Her clit throbbed. The contact was so much worse now—better—after coming once.
“Grind,” he ordered.
“What?”
“You heard me. Move.”
She swallowed.
Her hands found his shoulders again. Slowly, she rolled her hips. One circle. Another.
She was soaked. It felt obscene.
“Faster.”
She obeyed. Her breath was coming in gasps now, little whimpers spilling out with each thrust. Si-eun didn’t move, just watched her fall apart, his hands gripping her waist, keeping her steady.
When her thighs started shaking again, his hand slid between them. Fingers rubbing her through the damp cotton. Unforgiving. Precise.
She broke with a sob—her whole body curling forward as she came again, harder this time. Her nails dug into his back. Her vision went white.
By the time she collapsed against him, she was trembling, soaked, ruined.
He tilted her chin up. Made her look at him.
“You’ll clean this up,” he said, gaze flicking down to the mess between them. “With your mouth.”
She whimpered.
"And then," he murmured, eyes darkening, "I’ll fuck you properly."
Not a heavy rain, but that constant drizzle, almost annoying, that makes the air heavy and humid, as if the sky itself was caught in a silence filled with unshed tears. Yeon Si-eun was waiting, his back against the worn wall of the school's annex. He wasn't supposed to be there, but he had volunteered for the tutoring program. Not out of altruism. He had simply thought it would fill the void in a useful way.
Then she entered the room. Y/n. She was wearing an oversized sweatshirt, the sleeves covering her hands, and her bag seemed to almost slide off her shoulder. She didn't say anything, just nodded, her eyes avoiding his. But Si-eun had already noticed the slight tension in her fingers, the careful handling of her notebook, the way she stood between presence and erasure.
That was his way of observing.
The first sessions were silent, almost cold. He explained, she nodded. Sometimes she asked a question, her voice soft but firm, never looking at him for too long. He pretended it didn't bother him, but his mind, usually as orderly as a strategy game, began to fall apart.
He didn't understand. Why, when his eyes met y/n's, did he feel as if he was truly seen for the first time? Not as a smart or distant boy, nor as a tool for knowledge or controlled violence, but simply as a boy. Just a boy.
And that was the beginning of the obsession.
He began to look forward to these sessions like a starving animal. He noted everything: the way y/n paused to think, the way she switched pens while nibbling on the old one, the little smile she allowed herself when she understood something. He even started to hang around the community center where she sometimes came with her younger siblings.
He watched her take care of them with a tenderness almost fierce. They pulled at her arms, climbed on her back, knocked over her bag. And she, instead of getting annoyed, laughed softly. A laugh so discreet, yet so alive, that it took his breath away.
Si-eun, on the other hand, had never been held in loving arms.
Not even by his mother. Especially not by her.
The rare times she was around, she would stand in the kitchen, looking at her phone. She would nod when he spoke, but her eyes were always elsewhere. He remembered, as a child, tugging at his mother's sleeve to get a glance, a word, a gesture. But she was always too busy. Too absent. And eventually, he had stopped asking. What was the point?
So, when y/n occasionally brushed against him without thinking – a light touch of an arm, a hand brushing – it felt like a soft burn, an unbearable warmth he longed to replicate.
And he did.
One day, he pretended to have a headache. He staggered as he sat down. Y/n, concerned, placed her hand on his arm, then gently on his forehead.
He closed his eyes.
He wanted time to stop.
When he opened them, she was looking at him. And there was no fear. No pity. Just sincere concern.
Then, little by little, he allowed himself. One day, he leaned in, testing the waters. Another, he asked if she liked kids, feigning indifference. Then he dared more: he stayed after class longer. He walked her to the bus stop. He got into the habit of waiting for her.
Then, one night, he cracked.
It was raining again. Still that fine rain.
She had offered him an umbrella, and without really knowing why, he stepped closer. Too close. She smelled like soap and wind. And he held her. Against him. Against his chest. Barely, just enough.
He didn't say anything. He couldn't.
But his hands were shaking. He buried his face against her, like a lost child. And she didn't push him away. She even held him tighter.
That night, he cried.
Not loudly. Not sobbing. But those silent tears, almost shameful, that come from too far. From too deep. The ones that never find their way except in a moment when everything breaks just a little.
Y/n didn't say anything. She just kept her arms around him. Like a port. Like a refuge. And Yeon Si-eun thought: is this love?
Or was it simply the desperate need to finally feel loved?
Sometimes, when she laughed, he felt a hole in his chest. As if something wanted to get out, but he didn't know how. He wanted to tell her everything: the loneliness, the silences at home, the lack of attention. But he couldn't. So he just looked at her. With his sad eyes, those that silently said: love me. See me. Welcome me.
And she did.
He became dependent. On her arms. On her presence. He loved lying against her when he could. Once, she had run her fingers through his hair, thinking he was asleep. He wasn't asleep. He carved that moment into him like a promise.
But a persistent fear remained.
What if she left? What if she looked at him one day the way his mother looked at him? Without really seeing him?
So he became a little colder, a little more distant. To protect himself. But she, she didn't give up. She held on. She came back. Again and again. Each time.
And little by little, he thawed. Not like in the movies. Not all at once. But over time. With her.
He loved her. No, he was crazy about her.
It wasn't a loud love. It was a feline, gnawing, vital love. She was everything he had never received. Everything he had never dared ask for.
And every day, he silently prayed: let her stay.
Let her keep looking at him.
Let her keep loving him.
Because in her arms, for the first time, Yeon Si-eun was a loved son, a protected boy, a young man in love.
Finally alive.
---
Si-eun found himself in a place that, once upon a time, would have seemed nonsensical to him. A place that had no place in his cold, controlled world. At y/n's house. He never thought this could happen. Not him, the forgotten child of a constantly absent father, the cold silhouette of a rejected son. But reality was there. In her arms. In her breath against his. In the familiar sounds of the evening, the soft light of the entrance to her home.
He had never wanted to go, but she had invited him, insisting with a tone that allowed no objection. "You deserve to relax. You don’t come enough." And so, he had come, the first time. He stayed. He left. But his mind never left that place.
y/n lived in a house full of children's laughter, hurried footsteps, and voices that never stopped. She had two younger brothers and a sister. Every time he came, they greeted him with raw enthusiasm. He remembered their first glance. They had studied him, this strange boy who seemed so different from their older sister. But they had become attached to him, like children do with a protective figure. He, who had never had that.
y/n’s parents were rarely around. Often gone for work or other obligations, like invisible shadows in y/n's life. This left a void that she filled with her kindness, her patience. Si-eun had once seen her take care of her siblings after a long school day, her hands constantly moving, her gaze always gentle and reassuring. But when she saw him, she became something else, calmer. She didn't need words to express how she felt about him. And him... he no longer needed to pretend.
The first time he had nestled against her, he hadn’t thought. He had simply given into the warmth, this warmth he had never known. She was lying on the couch, her legs curled up, and he had sat next to her, then slowly, like a child seeking protection, he had leaned in until their bodies were almost touching. y/n hadn’t said anything, but her arms had surrounded him. And, suddenly, the world stopped spinning for him. All that mattered was the beat of her heart against his own. This connection, silent but meaningful.
It became a silent ritual. After school, he spent more and more time at her place. Sometimes, he just came to be in the same room as her. Sometimes, he lay beside her, closing his eyes. Their conversations were simple, but so full of unspoken words. Talks about trivial things that, somehow, seemed to resonate with a depth he had never known.
One evening, after playing a game with her siblings, he sat next to y/n on the couch. She was reading a book, but her fingers barely touched the pages. He watched her, his eyes never leaving her face. A slight smile played on her lips. "You have tired eyes." She looked at him, a little surprised, but didn’t say anything. Then she turned toward him. "It's because I worry about you."
Her words struck his mind like a cold wind, piercing the barrier he had built. Why would she worry about him? Her, the light in his life? Her, who knew how to give without asking? Why would she have empathy for him, a boy no one wanted to see?
She felt his silence. "You know, Si-eun, I’m not that naive. I see what you’re hiding. I see that you’re tired, that you carry all of this alone." She placed a light hand on his thigh. "You don’t have to carry it all alone."
It was strange. Her words, simple, hit him with such force that it hurt. She wasn’t rejecting him. She wasn’t fleeing from that dark side of him. She accepted him. She accepted him as he was. For him, it was nothing short of a revolution. No one had ever accepted him. Not even his mother. He looked up at her, his lips trembling slightly. "I... I don’t know how to be... the person you want."
She shook her head gently, her hair swaying slightly. "I don’t want anything from you, Si-eun. I just want you. All of you."
He swallowed. She didn’t understand. Or maybe she understood more than he thought. He pulled back slightly, embarrassed. But she didn’t let him go. She gently pulled him back toward her. And, without a word, she held him in her arms. This time, he didn’t pull away. He nestled against her, tighter, longer. He let her hold him. Her arms around him were a silent promise of protection. He allowed it. He had never had this feeling of being at home, of being truly at home, in someone else’s arms.
She rocked him gently, almost as if she had known him forever. She blew softly in his hair, her hands sliding slowly over his back, soothing. "I’m not going anywhere, Si-eun. You are my home. I’ll always be here."
He felt the warmth of her breath. His heart raced in his chest. He closed his eyes, a weight on his shoulders slowly dissipating. He didn’t need words. This contact, this simple embrace, was more than anything he could have asked for. The fear of abandonment, of rejection, melted into the air. He was no longer afraid. Because y/n was there.
A kiss. Soft, light. But everything changed. Her lips met his, at first timidly, like a question with no immediate answer. Then the kiss became more urgent, more essential, as if they had both been waiting for this moment without ever daring to say it. He gave himself to her, to this warmth that had always been missing in his life.
They stayed there, in that gentle silence, in that refuge. Si-eun had never wanted to be loved. But he had needed it so much. And there, in y/n's arms, he was no longer that cold and distant boy. He was just a man, a man in love, who had found his home.
She stroked the back of his neck, slowly, without haste. He didn’t move, enjoying every second. No need for more. Just to be here, with her. She kissed him again, her lips brushing his. A kiss to tell him he wasn’t alone. A kiss to tell him he was loved.
That night, he slept in her arms. Not out of desire, but to hear her breath, to feel her warmth. He had never wanted to sleep anywhere but here, in this place where he was welcomed, loved. He didn’t have to be anyone else. He could just be himself. And he knew, deep down, that he would always be with her.
A/n's note: just wanted to write one sieun fic since I haven't seen many whc fics on here
~700 words
It’s freezing outside.
The kind of biting cold that cuts through layers, painting noses pink and making breath curl in the air like smoke. You're sitting beside him on a concrete ledge behind the school, huddled up in your jacket. Sieun’s next to you, hoodie up, sleeves pulled over his hands, looking straight ahead with that usual unreadable stare.
He hasn’t said much in the past ten minutes. Not that you mind. You’ve always liked the quiet with him. Its just… calm. Comfortable.
But then you notice it.
“Your lips are chapped,” you say, glancing at him sideways.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at you. “So?”
You reach into your pocket, pull out a small tube of lip balm, and wiggle it in front of his face.
“I brought this. Let me help.”
He raises an eyebrow, finally turning to you. His eyes flick to the balm, then to your hand, then back to your face.
“I’m not a kid,” he mutters.
“I didn’t say you were. I’m just being nice,” you reply, uncapping it.
He stares at you for another moment in that typical Sieun silence that always feels like a test. Then he sighs and leans slightly toward you.
“Fine. Do it.”
Your heart stutters. You didn’t actually expect him to say yes.
You lift your hand slowly, the lip balm poised between your fingers. His gaze doesn’t leave yours, even as you move closer, close enough to smell the faint scent of his shampoo. Clean. Warm. Like something grounding.
“Stay still,” you whisper, voice softer than you meant it to be.
His lips part just a little. You gently swipe the balm across his bottom lip, then the top. They’re dry, just like you said. A little cracked near the corner. He doesn’t flinch and just watches you, Quietly.
You finish, heart thudding like an idiot.
Then, right as you're pulling back, your thumb brushes the corner of his mouth.
“There,” you murmur. “Much better.”
You expect him to roll his eyes, maybe wipe it off with his sleeve. But he doesn't.
Instead, he says quietly, “You missed a spot.”
Your eyes flick up. “Where?”
His gaze drops to your lips. “Here.”
You freeze.
It’s not a joke. Not a smirk. His tone is soft.. almost shy, but confident in that way only Sieun could be. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t close the distance. Just waits. You try to find something clever to say, something to cut the tension with a laugh. But nothing comes. Your mouth is dry. Your heart is anything but quiet now.
“…You’re serious?” you whisper, voice barely above the wind.
He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch.
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
God, why does his voice have to be that low? That steady?
You take a slow breath and close the space between you, barely tilting your head. It’s hesitant, like you’re giving him one last chance to say he was joking. But he wasn't. His eyes flutter shut right before your lips meet, and the moment they do, it’s...Soft.
Softer than you expected from someone like him.
His lips are still a little cold, a little dry but the way he kisses you is warm. Tentative, but not shy. Gentle, but not weak. His hand lifts, almost out of instinct, fingers brushing your jaw like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.
You don’t.
You lean in more, and he responds just a little by tilting his head, letting the kiss deepen in the most natural way. No rush. Just the slow, steady realization that this is real.
When you finally part, it’s only by a breath.
You stay close, your forehead brushing his, your lips tingling.
Sieun doesn’t move for a moment. Just exhales. His breath hits your cheek, warm despite the cold.
“…Tastes like strawberry,” he mumbles, eyes still half-lidded.
You blink. Then laugh, the sound escaping before you can stop it. “Of course that’s your first comment.”
He shrugs lazily, lips curling at the edges. “You picked the flavor.”
note: warnings for violence, psycho behaviour, wrote that at 1am so it’s kinda bad.
part two.
.
geum seongje wasn’t the romantic type.
he wasn’t interested in getting a girlfriend, and to be honest, the attention he got from the female audience could be annoying to him.
all he wanted was make a ton of money, go to the arcade, beat up some dumbasses, go home and repeat.
seongje was always very nonchalant about anything else in life, he hated school, didn’t want to work, didn’t want to make friends or get a girlfriend. seongje was just a chill guy, leaning towards the insane side of the spectrum, but a chill guy still.
but when he met you, seongje discovered a new side of him.
a raw, intense and ugly side that have been buried deep inside his soul, waiting for the moment to be released.
he first landed his eyes on you when he walked into the coffee shop you worked at. time immediately stopped and seongje could finally understand the feeling described in all those stupid romance dramas, do seongmok watched in secret.
when your eyes met, seongje felt like he could finally breath correctly, as if, for all this time, he had something weighing on his chest, that didn’t let him breath properly.
your gorgeous long hair, cascaded down your back, he wished he could run his fingers along your locks. your warm and kind eyes, he knew he could drown in them. your perfect and beautiful smile, he wished your smiles were only directed at him.
seongje quickly grew obsessed with you, and seongje isn’t the cute type of obsessed. he doesn’t leave you cute notes in your tips jar, he doesn’t leave roses on your doorstep, he doesn’t do that. no.
seongje follows you home, he manage to make himself a spare key, gets into your apartment when you’re not here, and lay in your bed when you’re absent, fantasising on the life he could offer you. the life you two could have, married with dozens of kids running around, while you’d look at them from your house’s porch. for the first time in his life, geum seongje dreamed of settling with someone.
seongje sits outside your workplace and wait for you till you finish your shift, and walk you home, from afar of course.
seongje watches your every move from his hideout, he managed to hack into your work’s security system and now has access to the live footage of the cameras.
he sees you, smiling to each and every damn customers, and he wished those smiles were directed at him, and him only.
those people don’t deserve to see you smile, they don’t love you like seongje does. they can’t protect you like seongje could.
when you almost get assaulted by a lousy coworker of yours, seongje pops out of a random bush and easily slams him against a nearby wall. hands in his pockets, cigarette in his mouth, he stood tall in front of you, his huge back facing your shaking form.
"tsk, tsk, tsk, in 2025 you still can’t take no for an answer?" he nonchalantly told the guy, who was barely collecting himself from almost merging with the brick wall.
"who the fuck are you? stay out of this, motherfucker!" the poor guy yelled, seongje whistled before erupting in a fit of laughter. "why are you laughing, you crazy psycho!" the guy tried to appear as tough and fearless, but truth was, he was terrified by the giant standing in front of him. there was something off putting with him, his aura screamed crazy psycho in loud capitals.
seongje stopped laughing immediately, his face falling and his eyes darkened. your coworker was currently shaking in his boots, he tried to swing first, but seongje dodged it with ease. since you could be in the way as well, seongje pulled you by your wrist and yanked you behind him.
for the first time, your eyes met. there was no way this man was sane with the way he was smiling in that kind of situation, and you couldn’t really see his face thanks to the poor lighting of the alley.
seongje quickly looked away when he saw the man charging towards him, seongje sighed before kicking your coworker in the chest, making him loose his balance and fall hardly on the concrete. all seongje wanted to do, was beating this motherfucker to a pulp for daring to touch you and scare you in the process. but he couldn’t show you his true colours yet.
he had to the perfect knight in shining armour, right now.
"leave her alone, she clearly doesn’t want you so stop embarrassing yourself." hands in his pockets, seongje nudged the guy, with his foot. he kept moaning in pain which made seongje grin, what a pussy.
seongje turned away from him and smiled at you, you were clearly shaken up and seongje really had to try hard to not turn around and kill your stupid coworker. "i’ll walk you home." he didn’t wait for your answer, actually he wasn’t asking or proposing, it was an affirmation.
he started walking ahead of you, making you run after him because there was no way you wanted to stay with your coworker. so you walked, seongje walking ahead of you, and you walking, a few steps behind him.
from behind you could get a good look of his body, seongje was tall, like almost two feet taller than you, and he had broad shoulders with a slim waist. you could tell he was good looking, and knew it. the way he carried himself screamed confidence, and almost cockiness. he walked like he owned the place.
he wore a school uniform, you recognised as ganghak. that school was infamous for having all sorts of delinquent. was he one of them? of course, this guy singlehanded your coworker, in one hit.
the walk home quickly ended when seongje suddenly stopped right in front of your doorstep. you didn’t even realise you arrived, you were so lost in thoughts. seongje turned around to face you, he looked down at you and brushed a loose strand of hair, behind your ear.
"take care of yourself, pretty girl." his voice was low, barely above a whisper and it made you shiver. he grinned at you, with that weird and almost twisted expression before leaving.
once inside the safety of your apartment, a thought made your heart skip a beat, you never gave him your address.
