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buff-bambiii · 18 days ago

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Doll 〃★ Jung Sungchan.

Pairings: Female!Reader x Jung Sungchan. Warnings: Mature content. Alcohol. ✦········· Word Count : 9.9K Chapter(s): [Chapt. One] - Chapt. Two - [Chapt. Three] - [Final]

The last bell rang, and students poured out of their classrooms in waves, already making plans for coffee runs, cram sessions, or a quick nap before dinner. Y/N lingered at her desk longer than usual, pretending to double-check the notes in her planner — but really, she was stalling. She already knew he’d be out there.

And when she finally stepped out into the hallway, there he was. Leaning against the wall, arms crossed casually over his chest, black backpack slung over one shoulder.

Sungchan.

His gaze flicked up as soon as she emerged, those familiar deer-like eyes locking onto hers. “You ready?” he asked, his voice low and even.

Y/N nodded before she could think twice, though her pulse had picked up somewhere between her sneakers and her throat. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They didn’t speak much as they walked through the quietening halls, their footsteps echoing slightly on the polished floors. The sun outside had already started its descent, casting golden light through the windows and creating long shadows that danced along the corridors.

When they reached the now-familiar dance studio, Sungchan pushed open the door, holding it briefly for her. The space inside was silent except for the low hum of the overhead lights. It was empty — wide mirrors, polished floors, and too much space for the kind of tension that settled between two people learning to move in sync.

Y/N swallowed hard as she set her bag down near the speaker system.

No Hoshi. No teacher. Just her. And him.

“Music?” Sungchan asked, already pulling out his phone.

“Sure,” Y/N replied, brushing her hair behind her ear. Her voice came out a little breathier than she intended. “Same track as last time?”

“Yeah. Might as well start where we left off.”

He connected to the Bluetooth, the familiar beat filtering through the room like a heartbeat — slower, smoother, more intense when there was no third party to watch or comment.

Y/N turned to face him, standing just a foot away now. His eyes met hers again, steady and unreadable, before he reached out — his hand hovering near her waist like he was waiting for permission.

Her breath hitched slightly, but she nodded.

“Relax,” Sungchan murmured. “You’re stiff.”

“You try relaxing when you’re about to dance with someone who barely talks to you,” she muttered under her breath.

He chuckled, just a quiet puff of air from his chest. “You talk enough for both of us.” Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the joke. Was that…teasing?

Sungchan placed his hand gently on her lower back and guided them into the starting pose Hoshi had drilled them into. It was even more intense now without an instructor’s voice breaking through the tension. Her body registered every movement — every inch of space between them, and every inch that wasn't.

As the music began again, they started to move — slow, deliberate, and increasingly in sync. Each step pulled them closer, each glance lingered longer.

Y/N’s nerves never fully left, but something about the way Sungchan led, quiet but certain, began to melt away her stiffness. His hand on her waist was steady, grounding her. His eyes remained focused, flicking between the mirror and her.

They didn’t speak much, but their bodies started to communicate in subtle ways — the lean of a shoulder, the shift of a hand, the matched breathing.

They weren’t perfect yet. Not by a long shot. But something between them had started to click. And for the first time, Y/N wasn’t sure if it was just the dance that made her chest flutter — or the boy guiding her through it.

The campus had a different rhythm on weekends slower, quieter. The usual buzz of students was replaced by scattered groups lounging on the grass, skateboarding across the plaza, or sipping iced coffee outside the library steps.

Y/N hadn’t planned to be out. Not really.

She was on her way to return a book, earbuds in, sunglasses on, wearing something casual for once — a soft gray hoodie and tennis skirt combo. But just as she stepped past the language building, she paused. There, leaning against a bench near the campus fountain, was him.

Sungchan.

He looked like he belonged in a movie scene — black tee, loose track pants, one hand scrolling his phone, the other nursing a can of iced coffee. The warm sunlight hit his skin just right, casting soft gold across his jawline and tousled hair. For a second, she almost turned around..almost, but she didn’t.

She walked over, slow and unsure, and pulled her earbuds out halfway. “You stalking me now?” she joked lightly.

Sungchan’s head turned lazily, but there was the tiniest flicker of amusement in his expression. “This is my usual spot,” he said.

She raised a brow. “Oh really? Since when?”

“Since I transferred.” He took a sip of his coffee, his gaze cool but not unfriendly. “You just never noticed.”

Y/N folded her arms. “Are you calling me self-absorbed?”

“I’m just saying…” he shrugged, “You don’t usually look at people who aren’t already looking at you.”

That made her blink. Not because it was rude — but because it was… true. And because he said it with such quiet calmness. No edge, just facts. Y/N tilted her head, caught somewhere between being defensive and intrigued. “You really don’t hold back, do you?”

Sungchan gave her a sideways glance. “Should I?”

Silence stretched between them, light but charged. Y/N shifted her weight, crossing one foot behind the other.

“I didn’t know you noticed people like me at all,” she said, quieter this time. Sungchan didn’t look at her, but his voice was sure. “You’re not exactly forgettable.”

Her heart stuttered for a second. And then, just as easily as he always did, he stood, tossing the empty can into a nearby bin.

“By the way,” he added, glancing at her over his shoulder. “You weren’t that stiff during practice. Not bad, doll.”

Y/N stared after him as he walked off, the pet name dropping from his lips like it belonged there.

There it was again, that word... And the way he said it? It didn’t sound mocking or sweet, it sounded like something she hadn’t earned yet.

And suddenly, Y/N wanted to earn it.

Later that weekend — Sunday evening.

The sky was dipped in lavender and honey, with soft clouds melting into the horizon as the sun tucked itself away. Y/N sat curled on her bedroom window seat, knees pulled to her chest, half-listening to the lo-fi playlist humming from her speaker. Her phone buzzed beside her, lighting up with messages in her group chat.

Winter [6:43 PM]: game night @ my place? bring snacks or be banished

Wonyoung [6:44 PM]: I’m bringing gummies and judgment 🤍

Anna [6:44 PM]: Y/N you in or still spiraling about someone tall & cute?

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips.

Y/N [6:45 PM]: shut up and send me the address again i’ll bring cookies and unresolved feelings

By 8 PM, the lights in Winter’s living room were dimmed, fairy lights twinkling along the ceiling. Laughter bounced off the walls as the girls piled around the coffee table, bickering over Uno rules and snack hoarding. But even as Y/N laughed and tossed cards, her mind kept drifting.

She could still hear Sungchan’s voice from earlier that weekend — low, steady.

“You weren’t that stiff during practice. Not bad, doll.”

That word again.

It echoed between her ribs. She didn’t tell them he’d said it again. That part she kept for herself. “Y/N.” Wonyoung nudged her foot. “You’re zoning out again.”

“I’m not,” Y/N lied.

“You so are,” Anna chimed in, passing her a soda. “Okay, real talk — are you lowkey into him now?”

Winter leaned over with a knowing smirk. “Lowkey?”

Y/N shrugged, then sighed. “I don’t know. He’s just... not like the guys I usually talk to.”

“That’s because he doesn’t try to impress you,” Wonyoung said, popping a gummy into her mouth. “He doesn’t try anything,” Yunjin added. “That’s what’s messing with you.”

Y/N twirled a ring around her finger. “I don’t get it though. He just transferred — none of us knew him — but he somehow already knew my name.”

They all paused at that.

“You think he looked you up before transferring?” Anna asked, eyes wide.

“That’d be a little stalkery,” Wonyoung murmured, but not entirely disapproving.

“Or,” Winter said more thoughtfully, “maybe someone told him. Maybe he heard things. You’re kind of… known.”

Y/N looked out the window again. The wind had picked up outside, leaves shuffling along the sidewalk. The party. That was the first night she saw him. But how did he end up there, if he was new? Who invited him?

Why did he seem like he already knew exactly who she was?

“I don’t know what it is,” Y/N finally said. “But there’s something about him that gets under my skin.”

Anna leaned back against the couch. “Sounds like the start of a fanfic.”

Winter grinned. “A slow burn.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at her. But deep down, she knew they weren’t wrong.

Whatever was happening with Sungchan — it wasn’t over. In fact, something told her it was just beginning.

Tuesday Afternoon – Dance Studio

The walls of their assigned dance studio were already steamed with energy by the time Y/N stepped inside. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting long golden lines across the polished floor. The air smelled faintly of rosin and sweat — a sure sign that Hoshi had been here for a while.

She wasn’t even fully through the doorway before she heard his voice.

“Alright, let’s go, lovebirds. Time is choreography!”

Y/N blinked. “We’re not—”

“Save it,” Hoshi cut in with a teasing smirk. “I’ve seen more tension between you two than an elastic band stretched to snapping.”

Sungchan was already at the center of the studio, pulling on his sleeves, looking far too composed. His eyes met hers briefly — unreadable as always before he turned his attention to stretching.

Y/N walked over and dropped her bag by the mirror. “You’d think after one practice you’d chill a little,” she muttered under her breath to herself.

“I heard that,” Hoshi called, already flicking through his playlist. “No chilling. Only chemistry. Let’s warm up — we’ve got work to do.”

They did some stretches to music at half-speed, Hoshi pacing like a general. Y/N could feel Sungchan’s warmth beside her, the occasional brush of his arm or the sound of his breathing syncing with hers. It should’ve been distracting — and it was but not in the way she expected.

Once warm-up ended, Hoshi clapped his hands.

“Alright. We’re picking up where we left off, but this time I’m upping the challenge. I want clean transitions, more eye contact, and for God’s sake, don’t dance like you’re scared to touch each other. I’m choreographing sensual, not a polite waltz at your cousin’s wedding.”

Y/N glanced at Sungchan from the corner of her eye. His jaw was clenched slightly, but his posture was relaxed.

Hoshi ran through the routine again, breaking down newer steps that required closer proximity — slower slides of hands across hips, a near-lift, and a back-to-chest movement that had Y/N silently praying her heart wouldn’t beat out of rhythm.

They went through it. Again and again and again...

Each time, Hoshi pushed harder. “Breathe through your movements, Y/N. Don’t hesitate. Sungchan, use your hands like they mean something. Yes — there. That’s better.”

Y/N could feel the sweat forming along her hairline. Every step had become a test — not of movement, but of self-control. The closer Sungchan moved, the more her thoughts scattered. His fingertips brushed the small of her back at the right moment, his breath fanned her temple during a spin, and every time they had to hold eye contact—

—it was a silent war.

“Alright, pause!” Hoshi finally said, glancing at his watch. “We’re going to wrap here.”

Y/N’s shoulders slumped, a breath of relief escaping her lips.

“But,” he added, leveling his gaze at them, “you two need to keep practicing outside of these sessions. Especially the emotional pacing. You’re technically in sync — now I need connection. Show me tension, flirtation, whatever it is. I want to believe it when you dance.”

He started gathering his notes, more to himself now. “Next session is Friday. Don’t come back unless I can feel the chemistry.”

He waved and walked out, humming to himself.

Y/N didn’t move for a second. Then, she slowly turned to face Sungchan. “He wants us to flirt now?”

Sungchan tilted his head, wiping the back of his neck with a towel. “You did fine.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

He smirked slightly. “You saying you can’t flirt?”

“I’m saying this isn’t exactly easy when you’re made of stone,” she muttered, grabbing her bottle.

There was a beat of silence. “Then chip away,” Sungchan said simply, his voice quiet. Y/N froze for a moment — then met his eyes.

For the first time, something in his gaze flickered. Playfulness? Curiousity? It was gone before she could tell. But it lingered.

Just like everything else about him.

Later That Day – Y/N’s Dorm

Her dorm was buzzing with low chatter and the faint scent of takeout. The girls had claimed their usual spots — Winter curled up by the window with her boba, Yunjin laying upside-down across the couch, and Wonyoung cross-legged on the floor flipping through a fashion magazine she wasn’t really reading.

Y/N sat at the kitchen counter, absentmindedly stirring the ice in her drink.

"So," Yunjin said, not even looking up, "how was rehearsal with your dance soulmate?"

Y/N groaned. “Please don’t start.”

“Oh, we’re starting,” Winter grinned. “Spill.”

Y/N let out a long sigh. “Hoshi was brutal today. He kept pushing us to show more… chemistry.” Wonyoung raised a brow. “Did you?”

Y/N hesitated. “I mean… kind of? I don’t know.”

Yunjin turned her head, still upside-down. “Define kind of. Did he touch you? Was there tension? Breathing in sync? Staring too long?”

Y/N blinked. “...Yes.” All three girls shot her a look. Wonyoung sat up straighter. “Okay, and how are you not combusting right now?”

“I don’t know!” Y/N said, throwing her hands up. “Every time we get close, I feel like I’m short-circuiting. But then he just—pulls away like none of it matters.”

Winter leaned her cheek into her palm. “Maybe he’s just shy.”

“He is not shy,” Y/N scoffed. “He’s like… quietly intense. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing and he’s just waiting to see how I react.”

“So he is flirting,” Yunjin said.

Y/N paused. Her brain replayed his words from earlier: Then chip away.

“I don’t know if it’s flirting or psychological warfare,” she muttered.

Wonyoung laughed. “Girl, you’re in too deep. Admit it.”

“I didn’t even like him at first!”

“You didn’t know him at first,” Winter corrected. “Now he’s the guy who saved you from a speeding motorcycle and then told you to chip away at his emotional walls like some K-drama protagonist.”

Y/N fell back against the couch dramatically. “He’s a menace.”

“A hot one,” Wonyoung added.

Y/N groaned again. “And now we have to practice alone before Friday’s session. How am I supposed to survive that?”

“Easy,” Yunjin smirked. “You flirt back.”

Y/N stared at her.

“Or,” Winter offered, “you just dance your heart out, don’t overthink it, and let things unfold.”

Wonyoung grinned. “Or do both.”

Y/N sighed, sinking deeper into the cushions. She closed her eyes, but Sungchan’s voice echoed in her head anyway — low, calm, teasing.

Then chip away.

She wasn’t sure what was happening between them.

But for better or worse… it was definitely happening.

Thursday Afternoon – Dance Studio

The studio was quiet when Y/N walked in, a little earlier than usual. The sun filtered through the high windows, casting soft golden light on the polished floors. Her sneakers squeaked lightly as she stepped inside, duffel bag slung over her shoulder, heart pounding for reasons she still couldn’t fully explain.

She wasn’t just nervous about the choreography.

She was nervous because it was just the two of them again. And the last time… something had shifted.

Sungchan arrived a few minutes later, dressed in a black hoodie and sweats, hair slightly tousled, earbuds still in as he stepped through the door. He gave her a small nod — the kind that was becoming signature between them before walking over to drop his bag and starts to stretch.

Y/N tried to play it cool, rolling out her wrists and taking deep breaths as she turned toward the mirror. “So,” she began, her voice echoing a little too loudly in the quiet room, “we should probably go over the second half again. Hoshi said we were stiff.”

Sungchan pulled out his earbuds. “He meant we weren’t believable.”

Y/N looked at him.

He was already facing her in the mirror, gaze calm and unreadable, like always. She didn’t know how he managed to look so unaffected while also saying things that threw her completely off balance.

“Right,” she muttered, turning to face him directly. “Believable. Chemistry. All that.”

He gave the faintest smirk. “Don’t worry. I won’t bite.”

She rolled her eyes mostly to hide the fact that her pulse jumped a little. “Let’s just get started.”

They ran the routine again from the top. The first half was smoother than before — their movements more fluid, their transitions tighter. But when they hit the more intimate sections, the ones where closeness was required, hands lingering, eyes locked, the kind of tension Hoshi had practically demanded — Y/N could feel the hesitation in herself.

And she could feel that Sungchan noticed.

“Stop,” he said quietly.

She blinked. “What?”

He stepped back, his expression still unreadable but his tone softer. “You’re holding back.”

Y/N looked away. “No, I’m not.”

“You are.” He paused. “Is it because of the genre?”

She stayed quiet, chewing the inside of her cheek.

“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable,” he said after a beat.

Her eyes flicked to him again. “You’re not.”

He tilted his head. “Then what is it?”

Y/N hesitated. The truth was tangled somewhere between embarrassment and vulnerability, the fact that she wasn’t used to being the one who didn’t have the upper hand. That with Sungchan, nothing she did seemed to throw him off balance. And that somehow… she didn’t want to mess it up.

“I’m just not used to dancing like this with someone I barely know,” she admitted finally, quiet and honest.

Sungchan nodded slowly, then stepped closer, not too close still close enough that she could hear the shift in his breath. “Then get to know me.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered. “What?”

“Isn’t that what partners do?” he said, voice low. “We’re gonna be doing this for a while.”

She swallowed hard. “Okay… then tell me something about you.”

He shrugged. “What do you want to know?”

“Why’d you come to this university?”

There was a pause. “It wasn’t the plan. But plans change.”

She blinked at the vague response. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the one I’m giving you,” he replied with a quiet smirk. “Your turn.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “I didn’t know we were playing twenty questions.”

He stepped into position. “Well then let’s dance again. And this time, don’t think about it. Just feel it.”

The music started up once more, and this time, something loosened in her chest. Maybe it was his calm voice, or the way he never pushed too far. Maybe it was the way he looked at her — not with judgment, but with expectation. Maybe even trust.

They danced the full routine again. It wasn’t perfect. But this time, it felt like something real. As the final beat faded and they slowly pulled away, Y/N realized she’d forgotten to feel nervous.

“You’re getting better at this,” Sungchan said simply.

“You don’t look surprised,” she muttered.

He gave her a small smile. “I’m not.”

The silence after the music cut out was almost louder than the beat itself. Y/N stood there, chest rising and falling, a light sheen of sweat on her brow as she met Sungchan’s eyes in the mirror.

Neither of them moved.

It was the kind of quiet that didn’t demand words — but was full of unspoken things anyway.

He was still watching her.

“I didn’t mess it up that time,” she said softly, reaching for her water bottle, trying to ground herself in something ordinary.

“No,” he said, still unmoving, “you didn’t.”

Y/N took a slow sip of water, the coolness calming the heat blooming across her skin. Not from the dancing — or at least not just from that.

“Is it weird,” she started, voice tentative, “that this is the first time I’m actually starting to enjoy it?”

Sungchan tilted his head. “The dancing?”

She nodded. “With you.”

His eyes didn’t leave her face. “It’s not weird.”

“But it is unexpected,” she added.

He cracked a faint smile. “You expected me to be terrible?”

“No,” she said too quickly. “I just… I didn’t expect to feel so—”

She trailed off. Because the word she almost said felt too personal.

Connected.

He didn’t press her on it.

Instead, he reached down to rewind the music. “Let’s go again. One last time.”

Y/N wiped her hands on her leggings, took another breath, and stepped into position. This time, when his hands found her waist, she didn’t flinch. When their eyes met, she didn’t look away. Something between them had shifted — not drastically, but just enough to change the rhythm of the room.

As they moved through the routine, Y/N realized her body wasn’t thinking anymore. It was responding. To the music. To the beat. To him.

They reached the moment near the end where she had to fall into his chest, hands curling into his shirt. The part where her lips hovered too close to his neck. The kind of proximity that had rattled her only days ago. This time, she didn’t falter. And neither did he.

The music faded. They didn’t move.

Not at first.

Eventually, Y/N took a step back. Her heart was hammering again — but not from exertion. Sungchan didn’t say anything. Just watched her with a look that was calm on the surface but holding something else underneath. Something unreadable. Something sharp.

“That was…” she started, voice soft, eyes searching.

He shrugged slightly. “Better.”

They both knew he meant more than just the dance.

Y/N grabbed her jacket, draping it over her arm as she looked at him one more time. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, her voice laced with something hesitant. Something charged.

“You will,” he replied.

And for the first time, there was no smirk. Just something steady in his eyes. Something she wasn’t ready to name yet.

But she was getting closer.

Friday – Morning | Garden in Front of Campus

The breeze was soft, brushing through the leaves like whispered secrets. Sunlight poured between the trees in warm patches, and the usual chatter of students filled the air. Laughter. Music from someone’s speaker. The clink of iced coffees being set on a bench.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the blanket with her friends — Winter beside her, Yunjin sprawled on her back with sunglasses perched on her nose, and Wonyoung clicking through her phone like she was solving a crime.

It should’ve felt peaceful. It should’ve felt like any other hour between classes. But it didn’t.

Y/N kept glancing over her shoulder. Her fingers tugged at a loose thread on her sleeve, a tightness coiled low in her stomach. She scanned the area once more — past the library steps, over the fountain, along the sidewalk where students moved in clusters — but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

“Okay,” Wonyoung said, not looking up, “you’re doing that thing again.”

Y/N blinked. “What thing?”

“The looking-over-your-shoulder-like-you’re-in-a-thriller-movie thing,” Yunjin added, lifting her sunglasses. “You good?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, her voice quieter than usual. “I just… I feel like I’m being watched.”

Winter frowned, straightening. “By who?”

“I don’t know. I looked. I didn’t see anyone.”

“Maybe it’s Sungchan,” Wonyoung teased, smirking. “Staring at you from the shadows again like some tall, broody drama lead.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she didn’t laugh.

Because a small part of her thought it could be him too — but the feeling was different. Sharper. Not soft like curiosity or interest. It felt… more pointed.

Yunjin tapped her shoe against Y/N’s knee. “Hey. Don’t spiral. You’re probably just nervous.”

Y/N glanced at her. “Nervous?”

“About rehearsal,” she said. “The ‘intensely sensual pair-dance with the mysterious guy you’re definitely starting to catch feelings for’ thing.”

Y/N exhaled through her nose. “That’s not what this is.”

“Mhm,” Winter said flatly.

Wonyoung grinned. “Denial is a cute look on you.”

Y/N didn’t respond. She leaned back on her palms, letting the sun soak into her skin. Still, her eyes scanned the distance one more time, just in case. Still nothing. But the uneasy feeling hadn’t left.

Not entirely.

2:00 PM | Dance Studio – Rehearsal with Hoshi

The girls eventually parted ways, Y/N slipping into the studio ten minutes early. Sungchan was already there, sitting on the floor, sipping water, stretching in that annoyingly graceful way of his.

He looked up as she entered. No words, just that same quiet acknowledgment.

Hoshi entered a few moments later, clapping his hands.

“Alright, lovebirds,” he said brightly, already rolling his shoulders, “we’re picking up from were we last ended. And I hope you’re both ready to sweat.”

Y/N gave a tight smile. Sungchan didn’t flinch. As they took their positions under Hoshi’s strict, watchful eye, Y/N pushed the feeling from earlier out of her mind — or tried to. There were other things to focus on now.

Things like keeping her heart steady when Sungchan touched her waist. Like not faltering when his breath brushed her ear during the close parts of the routine.

But in the back of her mind — no matter how loud the music got — the echo of that strange tension from earlier still lingered.

Like a warning.

Or a whisper.

Or a presence just beyond her reach.

The room was filled with the rhythmic thud of bass and the occasional sharp clap from Hoshi. He paced back and forth in front of the mirrors, eyes narrowed as he watched every move like a hawk.

“Closer,” he barked, waving a hand. “That’s not tension — that’s daylight between you two. We’re not doing a waltz at a royal gala!”

Y/N stepped in again, this time feeling the heat of Sungchan’s body as they reset into the first sequence. Her hand found his shoulder, his fingers grazing her lower back — light, but grounding. And maybe a little too steady for what the choreography demanded.

Hoshi clapped again. “No. You’re too stiff. The whole point of sensual movement is trust. There’s no fear. There’s no distance. You give in, you pull back, you tease the line.”

Sungchan glanced down at Y/N, one brow slightly raised. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was low.

“You good?”

Y/N swallowed hard and gave a quick nod. “Yeah.”

But she wasn’t. Not entirely. Not with how close they were. Not with Hoshi drilling the importance of chemistry into them every five minutes. And especially not with the way Sungchan's gaze would linger a second too long when the music faded out.

“Again!” Hoshi called, resetting the track.

They went through the routine two more times — and by the third, something started to shift. Their movements synced more fluidly. Her hesitations dulled. His grip grew more natural. Their bodies moved like they knew where the other would be before they even got there.

Until they hit the final pose — her back arched, lips barely inches from his jaw — and the silence between them pulsed like something neither of them wanted to speak on.

Hoshi clapped one final time and looked at the clock.

“That’s it for today,” he said, tone satisfied. “But you,” he pointed at both of them, “need to keep working on that chemistry. You’re getting there, but I need it to hit the audience like lightning when you hit center. Understood?”

Sungchan gave a small nod. “Understood.”

Y/N just nodded too, trying not to look directly at Sungchan as she grabbed her water bottle. Hoshi exited, already pulling up another playlist on his phone. And just like that, they were alone again.

After Rehearsal – Outside the Studio

Y/N walked out with her bag slung over one shoulder, her hair damp with sweat. Sungchan followed a few steps behind. For a moment, she thought maybe he wouldn’t say anything — like usual.

But then: “You looked uncomfortable earlier.”

She stopped and turned to him, caught off guard by the directness. “During the first half,” he added, standing beside her now. “You weren’t really there.” Y/N looked away for a second. “Yeah. It’s… I had a weird feeling earlier.”

Sungchan raised a brow. “Weird how?”

She hesitated. “Like someone was watching me. Not in a normal way. Just… off.”

There was a brief silence. “Do you think it was someone specific?”

Y/N looked up at him, surprised again. “You believe me?”

“I’ve had that feeling before,” he said simply.

Their eyes met. Something silent passed between them — something that had nothing to do with choreography.

He didn’t press further. He just said, “Let me know if it happens again,” then turned to walk down the hall.

Y/N stood there for a moment longer, her heart beating fast — from the dance, from the closeness, and now from this new thread she couldn’t quite name. She didn’t know what was building between her and Sungchan. But it was definitely building.

And it was more than just a dance.

Saturday Night – Frat House

The bass hit first.

It thudded through the foundation of the frat house like a second heartbeat, steady and pulsing beneath the laughter, shouting, and music flooding every corner. The whole building felt alive—walls vibrating, floors sticky underfoot, lights dimmed with flickers of neon red and blue bleeding across the ceilings.

The party had long since spiraled into chaos, the kind that only came from too much freedom and too little supervision. It was a familiar scene by now: bodies grinding in corners, groups crowding around drinking games in the backyard, someone already passed out on the couch before midnight.

Y/N stepped in with her friends like they owned the room.

Dressed to perfection, every one of them looked like a magazine spread. Wonyoung in sleek leather pants and a crop top that shimmered with each step. Yunjin with her signature cat-eye liner and dark cherry lips. Winter in a low-back dress with the kind of effortless confidence that made people do double takes. Anna glowed in glitter and velvet, all curves and charisma. And Y/N—wrapped in a black satin slip dress that hugged her waist and dipped low in the back—led them in like they were royalty.

The party noticed. Heads turned. People whispered. A few guys whistled under their breath. Y/N didn’t flinch under the attention—she was used to this. But she wasn’t looking for admiration tonight. Her gaze scanned the crowd… and then stopped.

There.

Sungchan.

He stood near the archway leading to the kitchen, dressed in an oversized black jacket layered over a simple tee and dark jeans. He wasn’t doing much—just leaning back with a drink in one hand, half-listening to whatever joke Sunwoo was telling beside him. But it didn’t matter. He still looked devastating.

He had that kind of presence you couldn’t fabricate—cool, aloof, magnetic without even trying. Their eyes met. Just for a second.

And in that second, Y/N felt her breath stutter.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t nod. Just looked. Like he could see more than he was letting on. Like he knew something she didn’t.

Then someone stepped in front of her—Anna, tugging her toward the kitchen—and the moment broke.

The night blurred after that. She danced. Laughed. Drank something too sweet and then something way too bitter. Her friends disappeared into different corners of the party. Somewhere between a drinking game and a spontaneous dance circle, she lost track of Wonyoung and Winter. Yunjin was nowhere in sight. She assumed they’d be outside or maybe upstairs. It didn’t worry her.

Until it did.

Y/N pushed her way toward the hallway, trying to find one of them when someone slammed into her from the side.

Hard.

She staggered with a startled gasp, almost dropping her phone.

“What the hell?” she muttered, looking up.

But the guy who’d bumped her didn’t back off. In fact, he stepped closer.

He wore a hood pulled low over his head and large sunglasses—inside, at night. The kind of getup that felt more intentional than careless. Like he wanted not to be recognized.

“Move,” she snapped, annoyed, trying to sidestep him.

He didn’t. Instead, he grabbed her wrist. Tight.

“What—let go!”

Her voice rose slightly in pitch. She tried to yank her arm back, but his grip held fast, nails digging into her skin. Panic bloomed in her chest. Her heartbeat kicked up. The hallway wasn’t completely empty, but the people nearby were drunk, distracted—no one noticed her. The guy didn’t speak. Just loomed closer. Something in her gut screamed. This wasn’t a drunk stumble. This was intentional. She tried to push him back. “I said let go—”

And then—

“Let her go.”

The voice cut through the music like a blade. Low. Calm. Deadly.

The guy hesitated, and in that second, a new figure stepped between them, grabbing Y/N’s wrist and yanking her back—not harshly, but protectively. Sungchan.

His jaw was clenched, his gaze steely, every line of his body radiating silent fury. The difference between how he looked at her and how he stared down the guy was night and day—like someone had flipped a switch inside him.

“I’m not gonna say it again,” he said to the hooded figure, voice flat and cold.

For a moment, Y/N thought the guy might do something stupid. His body language shifted, like he was calculating, twitchy. But then he slowly loosened his grip and took two steps back.

Still silent.

Still wrong.

And then he turned and vanished into the crowd like smoke dissolving in the wind.

Y/N stood frozen, her chest still heaving. The music roared back into her awareness, people oblivious to what just happened.

Sungchan turned to her. “Are you okay?”

“I… I think so.” She swallowed hard. “I didn’t see his face. Just—hood, glasses. He didn’t say a word.”

Sungchan’s brows furrowed. “That wasn’t just some drunk idiot.”

She nodded numbly, her wrist still tingling from where she’d been grabbed. “No. It didn’t feel like it.” Sungchan scanned the crowd again, his hand still on her arm. Then, quieter: “Come on. You shouldn’t be in here right now.”

He guided her outside with a hand at the small of her back, leading her past the drunken chaos and into the cool night. The porch was quieter—just a couple of students smoking on the steps, music muffled by the walls.

Y/N folded her arms across her chest, trying to steady her breathing.

“I didn’t expect you to be there,” she finally said, voice softer now. “But… thank you.”

Sungchan didn’t look at her right away. His eyes were on the shadows around them. Then he glanced down at her wrist, noticing the red marks.

“You should be more careful,” he said, his voice gentler now. “That guy—whoever he was—wasn’t just messing around.”

“I know,” she whispered.

He looked at her for a long beat.

“I meant what I said earlier this week,” he added, almost under his breath. “You’re not a mean girl, Y/N. But you also… don’t realize how much attention you draw. And not all of it is good.”

That made her blink. The way he said it—it wasn’t flirtatious. It wasn’t patronizing. It sounded more like concern.

“You’re not like the others,” he added after a pause, voice low. “And you shouldn’t try to be.”

She didn’t know what to say to that.

So instead, she just nodded slowly. And for the first time since the party began, she felt something settle in her chest. Not calm exactly. Not safety either.

But something like… being seen.

The porch lights buzzed faintly overhead as the night air settled between them. Y/N stood with her arms still lightly folded, the echoes of the almost-attack still lingering in her limbs like ghostly bruises.

Sungchan glanced at her again, expression unreadable. “Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?” Y/N hesitated. A part of her did want to go—curl up somewhere warm, safe, and quiet. But another part… a bigger part… refused to let the night end that way. She wasn’t going to let one moment of fear define her. Not tonight.

She shook her head. “No. I’m not leaving. Not because of that.”

Sungchan studied her for a second longer, like he was trying to make sure she meant it. Then, without a word, he nodded and followed her back inside.

The moment they stepped into the frat house again, the music swallowed them whole. Bodies swayed. Laughter erupted from somewhere deeper in the living room. The low hum of chatter, broken only by shouted dares and clinking shot glasses, filled the space.

Y/N didn’t look at anyone. She didn’t say anything. She made a beeline for the kitchen, heels clicking across the wooden floor with quiet purpose.

Sungchan stayed close, just a few steps behind, his gaze flicking across the room—protective, alert, but not obvious about it. Like he was watching without making it a performance.

In the kitchen, she found what she was looking for: a bottle of something clear, something strong. She didn’t check the label. She didn’t need to. Y/N grabbed a red solo cup, poured a generous amount, then tipped her head back and downed it. The burn hit instantly, scorching a trail down her throat and igniting her lungs. She winced, exhaling harshly through her nose.

Sungchan leaned against the counter beside her, arms folded loosely across his chest. “Feeling better now?”

“No,” she said bluntly, setting the cup down. “But give it a minute.”

He huffed a quiet breath through his nose—something halfway between amusement and disbelief. “You really just walked back in like nothing happened.”

Y/N shrugged, staring ahead at the chaotic kitchen. “If I don’t move on, it wins. I’m not giving that guy the satisfaction.”

Sungchan was silent for a moment. “You're stronger than you look.”

She turned slightly toward him, her voice still low. “And you’re more protective than you act.”

Their eyes locked. Not for the first time that night, something unspoken passed between them—heavy, real, electric in the undercurrent.

Then someone called her name from the hallway—Wonyoung’s voice, urgent and cutting through the noise. She sounded half-panicked.

Y/N’s hand instinctively brushed Sungchan’s forearm as she pushed off the counter. “I’ve got to go.”

“I’ll be around,” he said, not moving from his spot. Y/N offered him one last glance before disappearing down the hall, her heart still tight in her chest—but not entirely from fear anymore.

It was something else now.

Something more complicated. Something she didn’t quite have words for yet.

Y/N weaved through the crowd, the bass of the music thudding in her chest as she pushed past a group of students playfully arguing over a game of beer pong. Her brows were drawn together, lips pressed in a thin line as she moved with purpose. Wonyoung’s voice still echoed in her head — tight with urgency, slightly panicked.

What happened?

Her heels clicked down the hallway where the party dimmed into relative quiet. Neon lights from a nearby room flickered lazily across the walls, and at the far end, Wonyoung stood just outside one of the bedrooms, fidgeting with her phone.

“There you are,” Y/N said as she approached, her pulse still a little elevated from everything that had happened. “Why did you sound like that? What’s going on?”

Wonyoung looked up immediately, relief washing over her features. “Oh my god, finally. I was starting to think you left without telling anyone.”

Y/N blinked, surprised. “That’s why you were panicked?”

“Um, yeah?” Wonyoung shot back. “You literally disappeared for like fifteen minutes. None of us saw you. One second you were dancing, next thing you were gone.”

Y/N hesitated.

The memory of the hooded figure’s grip on her arm flickered behind her eyes. Her heart gave a traitorous skip at the thought of how differently things could’ve ended if Sungchan hadn’t been there. The porch. His voice. That moment.

But she forced a calm smile to her lips. “I was just grabbing a drink in the kitchen,” she said smoothly, brushing hair behind her ear. “It got crowded and hot, I needed a breather.”

Wonyoung narrowed her eyes slightly. “Alone?”

Y/N gave a small nod. Wonyoung didn’t press further. She leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, and exhaled. “Okay. Just—maybe tell someone next time. Winter was ready to crawl across the lawn looking for you.”

A small laugh escaped Y/N, the sound surprisingly light. “Noted.”

But even as she smiled, her fingers fidgeted at her side.

No one else knew. Only Sungchan.

And she wasn’t sure why she was keeping it that way. Maybe because saying it out loud would make it real. Maybe because she didn’t want her friends to worry. Or maybe… because the only person she actually wanted to talk to about it already had his eyes on her, in a way no one else did.

The night carried on as if nothing had happened. Y/N had slipped effortlessly back into the rhythm of the party — surrounded by her girls, each one glowing under the low party lights, laughing, dancing, and tipping back drinks without a care. The music pulsed through the living room like a living thing, loud and intoxicating, the bass deep enough to make her ribs hum with every beat.

Winter handed her another cup of something neon and suspiciously strong. Y/N downed it like water. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the fact that she was still trying to shake off the earlier fear, or maybe it was just the wild electricity of the party itself — but suddenly, all Y/N wanted was to dance.

No, not just wanted — needed.

“Okay,” she grinned, shoving her drink into Anna’s hand. “This song? Mine.”

Her friends instantly hyped her up, whooping and cheering as Y/N made her way to the middle of the living room-turned-dance-floor. The space was full, packed with bodies moving under the kaleidoscope of lights, but she made room. She owned room.

Winter and Wonyoung followed, slotting beside her with grins like they knew what she was about to do. And she did — Y/N danced like the night belonged to her. Like her skin was made of the beat itself.

Movements rolled from her hips to her shoulders, sharp, then fluid. Careless, but controlled. It was the kind of dancing that wasn't choreographed, wasn’t neat — it was instinctual, messy, electric.

And then she felt it.

A gaze. His gaze..

Through the haze of movement and laughter, Y/N’s eyes locked with his from across the room. He was back with his friends — Sunwoo, and a few others — laughing at something Sunwoo said, but something about his posture shifted the second he noticed her.

Y/N watched him over her shoulder as she danced, letting her hands run slowly through her hair, her hips moving with a little more rhythm, a little more heat.

Sungchan didn’t look away.

Not once. Something in his jaw ticked. His drink hung half-forgotten in one hand. His friends were still talking, but he wasn’t listening. His eyes were on her like they were tethered there.

Y/N’s lips curled into the smallest of smirks. She didn’t know what this was. The adrenaline still whispered through her veins. The alcohol burned pleasantly in her chest. But in that moment — under the lights, with her friends spinning around her and him watching her like she was the only person in the room — she felt powerful.

She raised her arms above her head, closing her eyes for a second as the music shifted into something slower, deeper. Her body followed instinct, more sway than steps now, and when she opened her eyes again—

He was gone. No longer by the counter. No longer laughing with his friends. And that’s when she felt it.

Not saw — felt. That he was closer, somewhere behind her.

And her heartbeat? Yeah. It noticed too.

Y/N didn’t turn around right away. She kept dancing. If Sungchan was behind her — and god, she could feel it in her spine — then she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of breaking her rhythm. Not yet.

The music shifted — deeper, darker, bass crawling like smoke through the air. The lights flickered in lazy rhythm, casting the room in red and violet hues, heat pressing in from every direction. Y/N’s skin was already warm, flushed from the alcohol, the dancing, and the adrenaline that hadn’t quite settled since earlier.

But there was something else too. Something behind her. She didn’t need to turn to know.

Instead, Y/N let the song guide her — hips swaying slowly, arms above her head, fingers tracing down the length of her sides as she moved to the rhythm like it was made for her alone.

Wonyoung and Winter were still dancing nearby, but they’d shifted their attention elsewhere, caught up in conversation with some guy whose name Y/N didn’t know and wouldn’t remember. Anna had disappeared toward the kitchen for a refill. No one said anything. They didn’t need to.

Because they saw.

They saw the way Y/N drifted — slowly, deliberately — a half-step at a time, deeper into his orbit.

Until she felt him at her back. Close.

His presence didn’t come with words or noise. Just tension — thick, magnetic — humming just beneath the surface of her skin. And she leaned into it.

Her hips rolled smoother now, slower. A teasing drag that matched the beat perfectly. She let her body speak for her, sensual and deliberate, grazing against him with just enough friction to blur the line between innocent dancing and something more.

She didn’t look at him. Didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

Sungchan didn’t move away. He didn’t press closer either. He just stayed right where he was — letting her feel him at her back, letting her decide how far this went. Letting her lead.

But then— Y/N pushed back. Not by accident. Not gently. This time, her hips rolled more firmly against him, deliberate, as if testing how real this was — how much control she actually had.

And that’s when it happened. His hands. Settling low on her waist.

A firm, grounding pressure — not rough, not forceful. But there. Solid. Intentional. His fingertips curled just barely into the fabric of her dress, thumbs pressing in slightly like they’d been waiting for permission.

Y/N didn’t stop. Didn’t falter.

She kept dancing — slowly, deliberately — letting the rhythm ripple through her spine and down her hips, letting him feel the motion with every sway of her body against his.

Sungchan’s grip adjusted just once, sliding lower, guiding her now, matching her pace like a silent partner catching the rhythm of a language spoken only between skin and heat and unspoken tension.

She could feel his breath now, closer to her neck. Could feel how tightly wound the moment had become.

He still hadn’t said a word. And neither had she.

But the way his thumbs pressed a little deeper — the way she angled her hips again, slower this time, taunting — said enough.

Around them, the room throbbed with bass and laughter and blurred movement, but it all felt distant now. Background noise to whatever they were caught in. Across the room, Wonyoung saw. So did Winter. But they didn’t say a thing. Because this wasn’t casual anymore. This wasn’t just a glance or a tease. This was a thread pulled too far to be undone. And Y/N?

She had no plans to let go of it yet. Before things could escalate any further, a loud voice cut through the crowd.

“TRUTH OR DARE IN THE EMPTY ROOM!”

Cheers followed instantly — half the room already moving in that direction, cups in hand, eager for the chaos. Y/N blinked, breath still shallow, and barely had time to register what was happening before Wonyoung appeared at her side, grabbing her wrist.

“Come on,” she grinned, a little too mischievously. “You know these games get wild. Let’s go before all the good dares are taken.”

Winter was already halfway across the room, dragging Anna with her. Yunjin threw an arm over Y/N’s shoulder from behind. “You’re glowing,” she whispered teasingly. “Take a break before you combust.”

Before Y/N could protest — or glance back — they pulled her away. Sungchan’s hands slipped from her hips, and for one brief second, her back felt cold without his touch.

She was whisked off into the empty room, half-laughing, half-reeling, the bass still pulsing in her bloodstream. They landed in a wide circle forming in the middle of the space — pillows, chairs, and people all crammed close. Cups clinked. The energy crackled.

Y/N dropped down between Winter and Anna, catching her breath.

A minute later, Sungchan appeared at the threshold. He wasn’t playing — that was clear. He stood back, leaning casually against the doorway with a drink in hand, dark eyes sharp despite the haze of alcohol and neon lighting. Watching. Y/N didn’t know why that made her stomach flip.

The game was already well underway. Dares thrown like candy. Some harmless, others very much not. Winter had to do a full-on makeout session with Sion, her junior dance partner — and she didn’t hold back, much to the crowd’s delight. Anna was dared to do a love shot with a stranger — which turned into a very intense ten-second moment. Someone else had to swap clothes with the opposite gender. Someone else had to call their ex. The stakes kept rising.

Then—

“Y/N!”

Her name came from across the circle, followed by a burst of cheers and fake gasps. She was already smiling, leaning back slightly on her hands. “Alright,” she slurred a little, “hit me.”

“Truth or dare?” someone called.

“Dare,” she grinned. “Obviously.”

That earned a chorus of whoops. People loved a dare — especially from someone like her. Her friends were already wide-eyed, exchanging glances. Wonyoung hid a smirk behind her drink. Yunjin’s brows arched. Someone from the other side of the room, emboldened by the alcohol, called out: “Give Sungchan a lap dance!”

It was loud enough to silence a portion of the room. Laughter broke out immediately after, some playful jeers, gasps. The kind that always came when the most unexpected name was thrown in.

Y/N froze for half a beat.

Eyes drifted to where he stood — still leaning casually, sipping from his red solo cup. He didn’t look away. If anything, he straightened just slightly, his expression unreadable.

“You’re kidding,” Y/N said with a nervous laugh, eyes wide.

“Nope,” someone else chimed in. “You said dare!”

“She did,” Anna grinned, nudging her. “And besides, he’s right there.”

Wonyoung added with a whisper only for Y/N to hear, “It’s only fair. He’s gotten quite the show already tonight, hasn’t he?”

Y/N could feel her cheeks heat, whether from the alcohol or the attention she didn’t know, probably both.

Her eyes flicked to him — Sungchan. Still watching. Still unreadable. Still infuriatingly calm.

She didn’t ask permission. Didn’t give herself time to overthink. With a breath, Y/N stood. Her friends were already hollering.

She walked toward him — slowly — aware of every pair of eyes in the room. Aware of the way the music in the background shifted into something with a heavier bass, as if fate had a twisted sense of humor.

When she stopped in front of him, she arched a brow, playful but challenging she pushed him onto the couch. “You’re not even in the game.”

Sungchan’s voice was low. Smooth. “Doesn’t mean I’m saying no.” The air between them was electric. Y/N exhaled, then turned, slowly. And with her back to him, in front of a very vocal crowd, she dropped into his lap.

The room exploded — laughing, screaming, phones lifted with gasps of “NO WAY, TURN AROUND FACE HIM.”

But all she could hear was the beat as she turned around to face him before dropping back onto his lap.

He didn’t touch her this time. Didn’t move. But his legs were solid beneath hers.

And when she rolled her hips, slow and precise, grinding against him with a dancer’s control and a drunk girl’s recklessness, she felt it — the tension in his body. The restraint, the way his hand almost lifted, then fell back again to his thigh.

The way he was trying to stay still. And failing.

Y/N didn’t stop.

She didn’t even glance at the crowd again.

Because once she settled onto Sungchan’s lap — the game, the circle, the dare — all of it faded.

Her hands found his shoulders, fingers grazing the fabric of his shirt, grounding herself there. The bass of the music vibrated through her spine, her hips rolling slowly to match the rhythm, more instinct than thought now. Controlled. Sensual. Focused.

She bit her lower lip, not from nerves — not anymore — but to steady the jolt of electricity dancing beneath her skin.

She shouldn’t still be dancing like this. Not for this long. But she couldn’t stop. And Sungchan… wasn’t stopping her either.

Her body arched just slightly, a teasing grind, adding more pressure. And then she felt it — the shift. The way his body responded under her. A tensed breath. A subtle, involuntary twitch in his legs. The unmistakable sign of tension snapping too tight.

He was watching her. She could feel it in the heat of his stare, like it might brand her skin.

All of a sudden his hands moved. They came to rest at her hips, firm but not aggressive, grounding her in place. It wasn’t a pull or it wasn’t a demand. Just quiet permission.

And that was somehow worse — because it gave her the power to keep going.

Her breath hitched, eyes fluttering shut for half a second. Her fingertips curled tighter into the slope of his shoulders, head tilting slightly as her hips rolled again — this time slower, more deliberate. More pressure. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the adrenaline, but she felt bolder. Lighter. Unraveled.

She didn’t speak. Neither did he.

But in the silence between them — surrounded by the laughter and shouts from the others still playing the game — something intimate simmered. Something wordless. His grip held steady on her waist, like he wasn’t about to let her move unless she wanted to. Like he was perfectly content to let her keep drawing the line and crossing it.

And she didn’t want to stop. Not yet.

She arched again, rolling her hips in a slower, more sinful rhythm. She wasn’t even pretending it was part of the dare anymore. This was something else entirely now — something far more dangerous.

Her lips were parted. Her body humming. The party disappeared around her, swallowed by the thrum of her pulse and the steady grip of his hands holding her in place like she was something he didn’t quite trust himself to touch — but wouldn’t dare let go of. His voice, when it came, was low. Just for her.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” Sungchan murmured near her ear, his breath grazing the shell of it. Y/N’s pulse jumped, but ...she didn’t stop. She just whispered back, lips barely moving, “I know.”

And she kept rolling her hips, feeling his now boner underneath her. Like the game never ended. Because in this moment — it hadn’t.

The room had thinned out without either of them noticing. The laughter, the clinking of cups, the rising dares — all of it had drifted somewhere else. Maybe to the kitchen, maybe to the backyard. Wherever it was, the door had closed behind the last person without a word. And now it was just them.

Sungchan and Y/N. Still on that couch. Still tangled in a slow, dangerous rhythm.

Y/N’s body stayed in motion, slow and fluid, her hips continuing to roll against him with practiced grace and something deeper—rawer. Sungchan’s grip on her hips had tightened, not out of restraint, but like he was anchoring himself there, like she was the only thing keeping him grounded. And maybe she was.

A soft sound escaped her lips — part gasp, part moan — and it undid him. He leaned forward, forehead pressing against hers as a breath slipped from his mouth, heavy and low. Their lips brushed but didn’t meet. Not yet. The tension was a living thing now, curled tight between them, like a thread pulled taut, seconds from snapping.

Then — just like that — the dam cracked.

A movement too fast to track: Y/N found herself on her back, the couch cushions dipping beneath her as Sungchan’s weight pressed above her, arms braced on either side. His hips moved again, instinctively, meeting hers in a slow grind that stole her breath. Their bodies aligned too well, like they were already dancing again, but this time to a rhythm no one else could hear.

She let out another breathless moan, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Her legs curled around his waist, locking him there, and he let out a low chuckle — soft, almost dazed — like he couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Shit,” he muttered, voice ragged. “You’re gonna ruin me.”

Y/N laughed, breathless. “You started it.”

“You kept going.”

“You didn’t stop me.” Their mouths hovered close — so close — like gravity itself was thinning between them.

And even in the haze of alcohol, even in the warmth spreading across her skin from both the drinks and him, Y/N knew this was dangerous. They were already too far in — past teasing, past tension. The room felt hot, the air thick. The only sounds were their shallow breaths and the quiet creak of the couch as their bodies moved together, too slowly to be innocent, too intimately to be casual.

Sungchan’s hand slid up her side, fingers trailing over the fabric of her top, never quite crossing the line — but never stepping away from it either.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered. Y/N’s breath hitched. But she didn’t say it. Didn’t move. Didn’t let go.

Her answer came in the way she tilted her hips again, pulling him impossibly closer.

And he got it. Loud and clear.

#jung sungchan #sungchan smut #riize #sungchan au #sungchan x reader #sungchan fanfic #kpop #riize fanfic

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