Work Text:
Each breath got me thinkin' 'bout ya
Perfect little rhythm like yeah
Sunlight on your body like that
I just want a little taste
My dreamsI want to cloud your judgment
Drinkin' 'bout you 'til four and pour it
And your dreams
Won't you say then and there, I'm yours?
And keep you safe, say you're mine, I'll always be there, yeah
The outdoor basketball court buzzed with energy, with sneakers squeaking across the concrete floor, whistles piercing the air, and students chanting in chaotic rhythm. But Yeon Sieun was quiet. He sat at the side of the court, half-lidded eyes resting on the game. He wasn’t the type to cheer or wave banners. He was only there for Baku and Hyuntak, friends he’d grown up with, as they were the part of Eunjang’s team.
But something shifted when Seongje stepped onto the court. Not because he was from Ganghak or because he played well. It was something else. Something that pulled at Sieun’s focus and refused to let go.
Geum Seongje didn’t move like the others. He didn’t chase the ball; he stalked it, like he was daring it to run. Tall, broad-shouldered, but with a feline edge to his grace. His eyes were sharp, constantly scanning, and when he fouled a player, he didn’t apologize; he just smiled.
That smirk was nothing like a player’s celebration. It was a predator’s grin.
The sunlight caught on the sweat slicking down his throat, his collarbone flashing beneath his loose jersey, muscles taut and trembling with held-back tension. It wasn’t just beautiful. It was dangerous.
And Sieun couldn’t stop watching.
There was something almost rhythmic in Seongje’s aggression. Each movement was timed like it was choreographed to music only he could hear. And Sieun, whose expression rarely cracked in public, felt something stir in his stomach. Not admiration. Not excitement. Something darker. Thicker. Like oil.
It unnerved him and thrilled him.
The game ended. Eunjang won. Cheers erupted. Baku was pulled into a hug by Hyuntak, grinning. But Sieun barely noticed. His gaze stayed fixed on the losing team as they filed out, especially the one who didn’t look disappointed at all.
And when Seongje's eyes briefly flicked toward the spectators, toward Sieun, he felt like he was being seen and stripped in one breath.
⸻
Sieun didn’t expect to see him again. Not like this.
The bell above the door chimes lazily as Sieun steps into the dimly lit convenience store, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly. He walks toward the drink aisle, running fingers along condensation-slicked bottles when he feels a presence.
He turns.
Geum Seongje.
Hair damp with sweat, wearing a hoodie half-zipped with a bruise forming on his jaw from the earlier match. He’s crouched near the cup ramen section, eyes scanning like he’s hunting something.
Their eyes lock, but Seongje doesn’t smile. Doesn’t speak. Just holds his stare, like a challenge. Like a dare.
Sieun doesn’t flinch but his heart thrums like a quiet drum in his chest, syncing to some perfect little rhythm.
He watches the curve of Seongje’s lip twitch as he stands up, now taller, sharper, and realer than he looked on the court. Sunlight doesn’t reach him here, but Sieun imagines it like it’s a dream he hasn’t earned yet.
Seongje brushes past him, close enough that Sieun smells cigarette and menthol gum.
“You’re that kid from the spectators,” Seongje mutters without looking.
“And you’re the one who plays like you want to hit someone.” Sieun replies, calm.
That made Seongje stop mid-step. He turned, eyes flicking back to Sieun with a sharp, unreadable glint.
Then he snorted. “You’ve got a punchable face,” he said, lips curling into a half-smirk. “Just my style.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked off. Sieun stood there, frozen, staring after him. Something tightened in his chest.
⸻
That night, Sieun lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. He thinks about that stare. That voice. That violence barely caged behind Seongje’s smirk.
He’s not scared. He’s drawn. He pictures himself crawling under Seongje’s skin, into his habits, into his dreams until there’s no more line between fear and want.
He didn’t want Seongje’s attention.
He wanted ownership.
To slip inside his world quietly. To cloud his thoughts, take up space in his mind until Seongje couldn’t tell where he ended and Sieun began.
He imagined Seongje falling asleep not knowing he was already being watched. Already being followed. Already being loved in the darkest, quietest way.
The next day, he looked up where Seongje lived. What route he took to school. Which bus at what time.
And so it began.
Hands down your skin like that
Can't stop, won't you stay like that?
Just us in the universe
But you paint it all-black, and you got me like that, yeahYou can call me crazy, but I know you love me
I don't wanna fight, not tonight
You don't, no, you don't deserve me
Why you always hurt me?
I don't wanna know why you lie
You leave me
Yeon Sieun had spent all of high school and later, his university life too, watching Geum Seongje. From a distance. Always hidden. Always silent. That was all he could do back then since he was only a teenager and grew into a young adult with no financial stability.
But time passed, and while the years moved forward, his obsession didn’t fade. It had evolved. Matured. Refined itself into something quiet and deliberate, like a craft he perfected in secret.
To anyone else, Sieun’s adult life looked painfully average. A mild-mannered office worker. Quiet. Polite. Distant but reliable. The kind of man who was easy to forget.
But beneath that carefully constructed surface, Sieun’s entire world still revolved around Geum Seongje. Every decision he made, like what company to apply to, which apartment to rent, and what bus route to take, all of it was calculated with precision. All of it designed to bring him closer to the man he’d never stopped watching.
And the best part?
No one ever noticed.
While others were applying for jobs for stability or growth, Sieun applied to only one company, the one Seongje was hired at first.
He waited for months. Changed his resume three times. Researched the HR manager’s coffee preferences. When he finally got the offer, he smiled faintly. He called no one. Celebrated with no one.
Because it wasn’t really about the job. It was about proximity and how he can get closer to Geum Seongje.
A few months after joining, he moved apartments. When the real estate agent asked for preferences, Sieun already had an address in mind. One floor down from Seongje’s. In the same building. Same elevator. Same convenience store. Same nights walking home late from work, catching glimpses of him under flickering streetlamps.
It looked like coincidence. But it never was.
Seongje didn’t know. No one did.
That Sieun knew the pattern of his lights switching on. That he memorized how many times Seongje stirred sugar into his coffee. That he had a burner phone subscribed to Seongje’s company calendar alerts just in case he changed routines.
And still, Sieun played the role perfectly. He was friendly and harmless. A quiet coworker who just happened to be helpful, just happened to bump into him at the elevator, just happened to be on the same shift.
All of it is designed.
Sometimes Sieun would catch a glimpse of Seongje’s reflection on the glass, either on the bus window or in the office elevator, and smile to himself. He told himself this was love. That it had to be. Because no one could be this obsessed with someone without loving them, right?
But whenever someone got too close, like when a female colleague left her lipstick stain on Seongje’s coffee mug, or when a junior intern started complimenting Seongje too often, Sieun intervened.
The lipstick girl? Rumors spread about her sleeping with her manager. She transferred departments.
The intern? He started receiving threatening messages at night from an untraceable number. He requested a department change shortly after.
Sieun never made direct moves. That would be reckless. Instead, he adjusted the world around Seongje, adjusted his world to make sure it fit Seongje's world.
He didn’t want to hurt Seongje. God, never. But the people around him? The ones who didn’t know how precious he was, especially to him? How dangerous his smile could be when given to the wrong person?
They didn’t deserve him.
Only Sieun did.
And yet, despite all the planning to make sure their lives aligned, Seongje would still smile at someone else. Still laugh, briefly, with a teammate or an old friend. Still flirt without realizing it.
And those were the nights Sieun couldn’t sleep. Lying in bed with his phone dimly lit, staring at the photo of smiling Seongje that he took at 7:04 p.m. that evening. Not a smile for him but a smile for someone else.
He would lie there, clutching the phone, trying to calm himself down.
Maybe it's not yet Sieun's turn to receive the smile, but soon. Sieun believed, with a strange and eerie certainty, that their story wasn’t over since it barely started.
Not until Seongje looked back at him with the same obsession. Not until it wasn’t just Sieun planning everything to align, but Seongje finally realizing it had all been for him. Not until they were alone, just them in the universe. So for now, nothing else mattered to Sieun.
Soft skin and a body like that
Big eyes, always smilin' right back
Your lips got me breathing like this
I just want a little tasteYour screams
They're gettin' kinda borin'
My words, you can't ignore it, want me
And your screams
Can't say that I don't enjoy it
It's a chase that keeps me goin', oh, yeah, yeahNails on your body like that
Know how you like it like that
Don't say you don't wanna play
Move your body like that and I got it like that, yeah
The night air was thick with alcohol and laughter. Neon signs flickered across half-empty soju bottles and sizzling plates of leftover meat. The department dinner had stretched late, long past when anyone was sober, and now most of them are already tired and tipsy and start making their ungraceful exits.
Seongje was still slouched in the corner booth, legs spread carelessly, head tilted back. His cheeks flushed with drink, his lips red from spicy food. He was laughing at something one of the colleagues said, but his words slurred slightly.
Sieun sat beside him. Calm. Patient. Watching.
He’d memorized the way Seongje’s throat moved when he swallowed. The shine in his eyes when he let himself relax. He’d counted every single freckle dusted along his collarbone.
No one noticed the tension coiled beneath Sieun’s stillness. When the bill was paid and people stood to leave, Seongje tried to follow but staggered slightly.
Sieun caught him effortlessly. A hand on his back. A voice as soft as silk.
“You’re drunk,” Sieun said gently. “Here.” He pulled out a chilled bottle of water from his bag. Brand new. Sealed. “Drink. It’ll help you sober up."
Seongje chuckled, cracked the cap lazily, and took a few long gulps. Nothing seemed off. Until it did.
He blinked. Once. Twice. Then frowned.
“…the hell…” he mumbled, eyes not quite focusing.
His body slackened.
“Whoa, hey, easy there, Seongje-ssi,” Sieun said, already sliding an arm around him. “You’re fine. I got you.”
One of their coworkers noticed and offered to help. It was perfect, of course it would be. Sieun had prepared for this exact moment. Had rehearsed it mentally for months. The perfect excuse, the perfect condition.
“You guys live in the same building, right?” Someone offered. “Sieun-ssi, you can help him get home.”
Sieun just nodded. He didn’t even have to lie because they did live in the same building. Same floor. Same hallway.
It was harder than he thought to hide the trembling in his hands. Not from guilt but from anticipation.
Seongje’s body was heavy against his side as they stumbled into the elevator. Alone now. The hum of the fluorescent light above them. The quiet ding as they ascended floor by floor.
The smile Sieun let out freely now as Seongje wasn’t even fighting. His head lolled slightly toward Sieun’s shoulder, breath warm and slow.
He was his. Fucking finally.
Sieun unlocked his door quickly. Not Seongje’s apartment. His own. No one would know. Everyone would assumed he was doing something kind.
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
He eased Seongje down onto his bed very gently, like cradling something fragile. He pulled a blanket over Seongje's body and sat on the edge of the mattress, just watching him breathe.
Sieun leaned down, lips near his ear when Seongje stirred. “Shh… It’s okay,” he whispered, fingers lightly tracing down Seongje’s arm. “I’ll take care of you.”
He is now looking at Seongje's face, fingers brushing his jawline.
“Finally, you're mine.”
His voice cracked softly on the last word because it was real now. After years of adjusting, aligning and building a life around this man without him ever noticing, now Seongje was in his bed. In his home.
Unconscious. Helpless. Beautiful.
Sieun didn’t touch him beyond what was necessary. Not yet. Not now. He wasn’t some reckless animal. He could wait. He wanted Seongje to wake up and see who had truly been there all along. He wanted Seongje to realize that no one could love him the way Sieun did.
Sieun stayed up all night, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at Seongje’s sleeping form. Heart pounding.
Because this was just the beginning. When Seongje woke up, everything would change.
You can run, you can hide, got you beggin' for your life
(I'm cute, but I'm crazy, don't tell me lies)
Won't you say what I think, that you love me anyway?
(I'm cute, but I'm crazy, crazy, love)Count to three and come seek like, la-la, la-la, la
You can run, you can hide, but you'll never leave my sight
(I'm cute, but I'm crazy, crazy, love)I'm the monster underneath the bed
Seongje’s eyes opened.
For a second, Sieun stopped breathing. Not out of fear. But disbelief. Because in every version of this moment he had imagined, Seongje was supposed to panic.
To thrash.
To break.
But instead.. he laughed.
A low, gravelly sound, thick with sleep but curling at the edges with amusement. It rolled out of his throat like smoke—dangerous, indulgent, slow. Like a lion waking in a cage it chose to step into.
“Took you long enough,” Seongje murmured, voice raw and rasping as he smirked.
Sieun froze. His spine went rigid, throat dry. He’d waited for this; he planned for this. But this wasn’t in his plan.
“W…what?”
Seongje moved beneath the sheets, stretching with the lazy elegance of something that knew it had already won.
He turned his head slowly, eyes locking onto Sieun’s. A glint in his gaze that shows how unhinged and thrilled he is with the situation.
“You really thought this was all you?” he said, almost pitying. “That you played this whole game by yourself?”
He tilted his head, and his grin widened, like he was about to deliver a punchline he’d been sitting on for years.
“I let you get close, my love. I wanted you to.”
The words hit like a gunshot. Sieun’s chest cracked. His breath stuttered. His reality, the one he’d carefully sculpted, had shattered.
And Seongje saw it. Saw the flicker in his eyes, the tremble in his jaw. And it made him laugh again, softer this time. Crueler.
“You think I didn’t notice?” he said, voice dipping lower with velvet and venom. “The way you kept showing up in the same corridors. Lunch breaks that just happened to match mine. Apartment one floor down, then across the hall, and now next door?”
He scoffed, pushing himself upright with a casual roll of his shoulders. “Come on, Sieun. You’re smart and methodical. You really thought you were the only one who knew how to stalk someone?”
He leaned forward slightly, watching Sieun like he was a puzzle he’d already solved.
“Sieuni. Sieun-ah,” he purred, soft and sweet and deadly, “I was the one pulling the strings.”
“You’re not half as subtle as you think, you know. But you were cute, trying.” His voice twisted around the word cute, like it tasted good on his tongue.
Sieun’s mouth parted, but no sound came. His mask was cracking; he felt it. The carefully arranged stillness he wore like armor was failing him under the weight of Seongje’s truth.
And Seongje wasn’t done.
Not even close.
He crawled across the mattress, slow, deliberate, and graceful in a way that should have been comforting but felt like a threat. Every shift of his body across the sheets felt intentional. Like a lion circling its prey not because it was hungry, but because it was entertained.
“I saw you at the basketball game first,” he murmured, eyes glittering. “You thought you were subtle. Cold little thing, arms crossed, fake-bored expression.”
“But your eyes gave you away, Sieun. You watched me like you wanted to eat me alive. Like I was the only person on that court who mattered.” He leaned in slightly, his voice softer and more intimate.
“And I liked it.”
His smile widened.
“The convenience store? I staged that. Waited outside for fifteen minutes until I saw your reflection in the glass. Then I walked in like it was fate.” He paused. “You looked so beautiful. I almost kissed you right there just to see what you’d do.”
Sieun’s breath caught in his throat, but Seongje wasn’t teasing for the sake of it. He was building something. A slow, suffocating confession for Sieun.
“That job? You think you got that by luck?” he asked, voice dropping to a whisper. “I was the one who got your resume pulled. I told HR you were a perfect fit. Told them I wanted you on my team. Right next to me. Every day.”
He was close now, and Sieun could feel Seongje's breath fan against his cheek. Could smell the faint scent of smoke and sweat.
“You watched me,” Seongje whispered, tone laced with reverence and mockery all at once. “But I watched you too. Every night. Every click of your light switch. Every shadow behind your curtains.”
“I saw everything.”
And still, he didn’t touch him. That made it worse. He just hovered. Fingers almost brushing Sieun’s shirt collar. Lips almost grazing his temple. Every movement deliberate and dangerous.
“You thought this was a hunt,” Seongje murmured, “but we were just circling each other the whole time.”
“And you—” he chuckled softly, thumb finally lifting to graze Sieun’s lower lip, “—you played the part so well.”
Sieun’s eyes darkened, lips trembling under that ghost of a touch. Seongje smiled like he was in love; he is indeed in love.
“My little shadow,” he whispered. “So clever. So quiet. So obsessed.”
Sieun’s breath faltered. His heart stuttered in his chest as Seongje crept closer, like he had all the time in the world to unravel him.
“I just wanted to see if you were worthy.”
That last word left his mouth like a brand.
The bedsheets rustled as Seongje moved, hand curling around Sieun’s tie. Not yanking, not choking. Just holding it like a leash. Testing the weight of it between his fingers.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured, gaze flickering down, voice low and amused. “You thought I’d be scared of you, didn’t you? Of this?”
He gave the tie a gentle tug. Sieun stumbled forward. Just enough to close the gap between them, their knees brushing.
“Cute,” Seongje murmured again, voice like silk unraveling.
He raised his free hand and pressed his palm to the side of Sieun’s throat. Not tightly. But firmly. Fingers resting just over the fluttering pulse, thumb lightly grazing his jaw.
Sieun gasped as there was something dark and raw sparked behind his eyes. Because this was dominance. This was devotion. And Sieun thought all this time he had the upper hand when Seongje was a few steps ahead.
“All this time,” Seongje whispered, eyes hooded, mouth barely an inch from Sieun’s. “You watched me from corners, cameras, shadows. But now look where you are.”
He leaned in, his nose brushing Sieun’s. A near-kiss to torment Sieun.
“Right here. In front of me. Caught in your own little trap.”
He tilted his head slightly, lips brushing the edge of Sieun’s lips, not quite kissing him yet, just hovering, breathing warmth into his skin.
“And the thing is… you never needed to drug me, sweetheart.” His voice dipped lower. A threat and also a promise. “You only had to ask.”
His fingers slid up, trailing Sieun’s jawline like he was memorizing it from touch alone. Every bone. Every breath. Every tremble.
“But I get it. You like control. You like knowing every move, don’t you?” He chuckled again, now gleeful.
“Poor thing. Did it crush you to realize I let it all happen? That I was watching you, too? Touching myself some nights just thinking about what you might do if you caught me off guard?”
Sieun’s knees buckled slightly. Seongje’s grip on his tie held him upright.
“You think I didn’t feel your eyes on me, every hallway, every shared shift? You think I didn’t leave my blinds open on purpose?” he whispered against Sieun’s neck. “Didn’t moan louder when I knew you were listening?”
Sieun’s breath hitched, a faint whimper slipping from his lips before he could stop it. That was all it took for Seongje to push him. Not roughly but deliberately. Just enough for Sieun to fall backward onto the bed, elbows catching him as he looked up.
Seongje followed. Crawled over him. Hands on either side of his body, hair falling slightly in his eyes. Predatory. Beautiful. Terrifying.
“And now,” he whispered, hovering over him, “look at you.”
“My monster. My shadow. My favorite little freak.”
“Mine.”
He dipped his head low, lips grazing the corner of Sieun’s mouth, and again, never kissing. Just tasting the edge of control. Sieun’s hands fisted into the sheets. His eyes were wide, lips trembling, flushed and dazed. Caught between humiliation and desire.
“Now that you finally have me...what are you going to do?”
Sieun moved. Fingers curled into Seongje’s collar, yanking him down with a force that surprised even himself. His mouth crashed against Seongje’s, not even shy as he's being desperate. Possessive.
Like a man who’d been starving and finally tasted food.
The kiss was brutal. Messy. All teeth and heat and the sound of breathing unraveling between them. Sieun kissed like someone who had memorized this moment in his sleep, rewound it in every fantasy, and drowned in it during lonely nights. He devoured him.
And Seongje, he laughed into the kiss. Not mocking. Not surprised too. He's very delighted.
“That’s it,” he rasped, lips bruised, eyes wild. “There you are.” Sieun didn’t answer; he just bit Seongje's lower lip hard enough to draw blood, then licked it away, pupils blown wide.
That did something to Seongje. He growled, low in his throat, and the switch flipped. Suddenly he was everywhere—mouth on Sieun’s jaw, tongue dragging down the line of his neck, hands roaming fast and shameless under his shirt.
“God, you’re even worse than I imagined,” Seongje muttered against his throat. “All those years pretending. All that silence. And here you are, writhing under me so beautifully.”
He pressed his hips down, grinding into him slow and rough, just to feel Sieun jolt underneath. To hear that wrecked little gasp.
“Tell me,” Seongje murmured against his skin. “Did you touch yourself thinking about this?”
His hand slid up, pressing flat against Sieun’s chest, feeling the frantic heartbeat like it was playing his favorite song.
“Did you watch me through the blinds and get off to the sound of my voice?” Sieun’s fingers dug into his back, nails dragging.
“Every night,” he breathed. “Every. Fucking. Night.”
That broke something in both of them.
Seongje snapped. He grabbed Sieun’s wrists, pinned them above his head, and pressed his body full-length against his. The sheets twisted beneath them, damp with sweat and years of tension burning off like smoke.
“You’re so fucking sick,” Seongje whispered, forehead against Sieun’s. “And I fucking love it, Yeon Sieun.”
Their mouths met again, this time hotter and dirtier. The kiss was full of hunger and relief as they had finally stopped running in the dark and slammed headfirst into the only other monster who understood them.
Their mouths were pulled together like magnets snapping into place after years of trembling tension. It was wild. It was messed up yet breathtaking. Everything that was pent-up inside both of them are finally released.
And for a moment, time didn’t move.
Sieun didn’t know where he was at this point, doesn't even know who he was. The only things he could feel were hands, skin, heat, breath, and teeth. Seongje being all around him.
It was like being pulled under.
“You should’ve drugged me sooner,” Seongje murmured against his lips, voice thick with heat and laughter. He didn’t pull away to speak; he said it while kissing him, while unbuttoning his shirt like it was a gift long overdue.
“I would’ve let you ruin me…”
He chuckled—low, rich, intoxicating. “But I guess I’ll be the one ruining you.”
Sieun’s head lolled back. His thoughts were a blur, his body unmoored. He couldn’t even respond properly, just let out a broken hum, something between a sigh and a moan. His fingers curled weakly into the sheets, then into Seongje’s shirt, unsure where to cling to first.
God. Sieun loved being in control. He loved holding the strings. But now, with Seongje pinning him down, undressing him with slow, maddening ease, he decided that he wanted this. Wanted to be claimed. To be taken. To be understood without ever needing to speak it out loud.
Of course Seongje understood what Sieun wanted. He was more obsessive than Sieun was towards him. He literally knows everything about Sieun.
His hands were firm but reverent, moving like he’d spent years dreaming of this exact body. Mapping it. Memorizing it. Wanting it.
And now that it was his, he was taking his time. One layer peeled back. Then another. Each brush of his fingers hotter than the last, until Sieun was naked beneath him as he flushed, panting and in dazed.
“Sorry I made you wait too long,” Seongje whispered, lowering himself fully onto Sieun’s body again. Their skin touched and Sieun shivered.
He wrapped his arms around Sieun, pulling him close, like the distance between their chests was offensive. Like he wanted to crawl inside him.
“I’m here now.”
The words were low and heavy. They didn’t feel like comfort because they felt like a vow. A confession pressed into his skin.
Sieun’s eyes fluttered, his breath catching in his throat. Because in the space between violence and surrender, this situation felt holy to them. Like they had ruined each other so quietly, so slowly, that the destruction tasted like worship.
Seongje’s lips brushed his temple. His jaw. The hollow of his throat. Not rushed. Not rough. Just Seongje and Sieun.
“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” Seongje murmured, his voice quieter now, low and certain. “I know you. I know exactly what you want.”
His hands moved slowly, as if reading a language only he understood, while he traced every scar, every tremble, every breathless sound drawn from Sieun’s lips like secrets peeled from his throat.
“You’ve always been mine,” he whispered, his words threading into Sieun’s skin. “Even when I pretended not to notice.”
And in that moment, beneath the sweat, the bruising kisses, the fevered press of hands and want and need, they found something that wasn’t quite peace.
But something close.
Because when obsession is returned, it stops being a cage.
It becomes home.