“No One Else” — Part 3: “Downhill Doesn’t Feel Like Falling”

“No One Else” — Part 5: “Collateral”

Genre: Dark romance, psychological drama, emotional fallout

Tone: Dangerous affection, unraveling consequences, possessive tension

(The guy Jun hyuk is a made up character for this fan fic)

⸻

It wasn’t just between the two of you anymore.

People had started to notice.

The way you always sat next to him—even when there were open seats. The way his eyes followed you like a tracking system. The way no one could joke with you anymore without feeling like a shadow was hovering behind them.

You hadn’t meant for it to get this far.

But the deeper you fell into him—the more obvious it became that there was no getting out without a cost.

And people were beginning to pay it.

⸻

It started with Jun-hyuk.

He’d been your friend since middle school. Safe. Easygoing. The kind of guy who knew your mom’s name and brought you snacks during exam week.

He was also the first person to finally say it out loud.

“You’ve changed,” he told you after school, standing just outside the school gates. “You don’t laugh anymore. You watch. Like you’re waiting for something bad to happen.”

You didn’t answer.

He stepped closer. “Is it… is it Seong-je?”

The name made your chest tighten. You hated how much you liked hearing it from someone else’s mouth. Like he was yours, and everyone knew.

You didn’t say yes. You didn’t have to.

Jun-hyuk’s jaw clenched. “He’s not normal. You know that. He’s dangerous.”

“He protects me.”

“No,” he snapped. “He isolates you.”

That made you look up.

And the worst part?

You felt angry.

Because even if it was true—even if you knew it deep down—he didn’t get to say it. Not him.

Not anyone.

⸻

You told Seong-je about it that night.

Not because you wanted him to do anything.

But because you wanted him to know.

He was silent for a long time after you finished. Sitting beside you, eyes on the floor, the silence thick.

Then he spoke.

“Do you miss him?”

You turned your head slowly.

“Do you want me to?”

His gaze snapped to yours. Cold. Controlled.

But something was breaking.

“No,” he said. “Because if you ever do…”

He trailed off. Didn’t finish.

Didn’t need to.

⸻

Jun-hyuk stopped showing up to school the next day.

Rumors swirled.

Some said he got into a fight and didn’t want to come back.

Others said someone threatened him.

You knew the truth.

And when Seong-je sat beside you in class like nothing had happened—calm, composed, triumphant—your stomach twisted.

But you didn’t say anything.

Because part of you felt safe.

And part of you liked it.

⸻

You were losing things.

But you still had him.

And in the growing silence of your life, that started to feel like enough.

Even if he was a storm and you were just learning how to breathe in the eye of it.

that new chapter AND y si fuera ella?? perfect tbh

Thank youuuuuu. I’m not even gonna lie reading the chapter back I did shed a little tear 😭😭😭😭there will be another chapter thooooo😝😝😝😝

“Glass Cage: Part 9 – The Night They Came”

Geum Seong-je x fem!reader | heavy angst,

Guys I’m sorry for doing this to y’all. But I couldn’t help it. Trust when I say your are gonna need to listen to this song while reading this ok😓🙏🏻🙏🏻

⸻

It was raining.

A quiet, warm rain that tapped gently on the windows like it didn’t want to disturb anything.

The house smelled like vanilla and red wine.

The soft hum of the heater filled the room.

The baby had just fallen asleep — her little fists curled under her chin, breathing soft and perfect.

You’d both stood over her crib a little longer tonight.

Just looking.

Seong-je had kissed your temple and whispered:

“She looks like you when she sleeps.”

You smiled, eyes full.

“You say that every night.”

He just grinned, kissed your lips next, and turned the baby monitor on.

⸻

You sat together by the window, watching the rain blur the world.

Two glasses of wine.

His fingers intertwined with yours.

Married.

Safe.

Hidden.

In love.

You almost believed the world had forgotten you.

You almost believed forever could fit inside four walls.

And then—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Three deafening knocks on the front door.

Too hard.

Too fast.

Too official.

You jolted.

Wine glass spilled.

Your heart stopped.

Seong-je was already on his feet.

You grabbed his arm.

“Don’t—wait—don’t open it—”

But he was calm. Too calm. Like he’d been waiting for this moment his whole life.

“Stay with the baby.”

“No—”

Too late.

He opened the door.

⸻

Ji-won was standing in the rain.

Behind him—

Two FBI agents.

Their badges out.

Jackets soaked.

Guns visible.

Outside, headlights cut through the dark.

Several cars.

People moving behind trees.

Voices on radios.

It wasn’t just a knock.

It was a raid.

⸻

You stepped into the hallway, barefoot.

And time slowed.

You saw Ji-won’s face.

Guilt. Regret.

And something like mourning.

One agent stepped forward, raising his voice:

“Geum Seong-je—hands on your head. Get on the floor. Now!”

You couldn’t process it.

“W-what? What’s going on—?”

“We’ve been investigating the disappearance of [Y/N] for over a year now. A camper in the area saw you both near the river. We confirmed the identity. We know you’re here. Sir—on the ground. Now.”

Your world cracked like glass.

The baby monitor screeched from the table.

Your daughter crying, wailing in the other room.

“No—no—no!”

You ran forward, but one of them grabbed you—holding you back gently but firmly.

“Ma’am—step aside—”

“Don’t touch him! He didn’t do anything wrong!”

But Seong-je just looked at you.

Not afraid.

Just heartbroken.

⸻

He lowered himself slowly to the floor.

Hands on his head.

The agents surrounded him.

Cuffed him.

One read him his rights, voice drowned out by your screaming.

“Don’t take him!—please—PLEASE!—don’t take him away!—”

You were shaking, clawing to get to him.

The rain poured harder.

Your feet slipped in the mud.

Seong-je looked over his shoulder as they pulled him to the truck.

And he smiled.

Just a little.

Like it was the only thing he had left to give you.

“You’re safe now,” he mouthed.

“I love you.”

⸻

You ran after them.

Screaming.

Begging.

Your body against the side of the truck as they shoved him in.

“I love him! You don’t understand—HE SAVED ME! Please—please—just let me talk to him—let me touch him—just ONE MORE TIME—!” You screamed as the cops held you back.

But the engine roared.

The door slammed.

And Seong-je disappeared behind steel and glass and red lights.

You stood in the driveway.

Soaked.

Bleeding from your knees.

And screamed.

“BRING HIM BACK—”

“PLEASE BRING HIM BACK—”

⸻

The FBI tried to talk to you.

One woman crouched down, jacket shielding your body from the rain.

“Are you okay? Do you need medical—?”

You shoved her away.

“I’m not okay! I’m never going to be okay again.”

And you collapsed.

Right there in the mud.

Hands in your hair.

Eyes toward the empty road where they’d taken your husband.

⸻

Your baby’s cries still echoed from inside the house.

The monitor was still glowing.

And your chest caved in as you whispered to no one:

“She won’t even remember his face…”

——-

HII could you do a kang wooyoung x reader fic 😛😛😛

“Dirty Little Secret”

Pairing: Kang Woo Young x Fem!Reader

Genre: Drama, Angst, Romance, Secret Relationship

Warnings: Swearing, emotional tension, implied possessiveness

Summary: You’ve been sneaking around with Kang Woo Young for months—behind stairwells, in empty classrooms, under shadows. But you’re tired of being a secret. And he… he doesn’t want to let you go, but he won’t let the world have you either.

⸻

You pulled your hand away first.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, and Woo Young’s grip on your wrist lingered a little too long before he let go.

“Someone could’ve seen us,” he muttered, eyes sharp as ever, scanning the empty stairwell where he’d kissed you like he owned your lungs.

You crossed your arms, heart still hammering from the way he’d just whispered your name minutes ago like a damn prayer.

“Then maybe we should stop hiding in goddamn stairwells.”

Woo Young’s eyes snapped to yours. Cold. Warning.

You didn’t flinch. Not this time.

“It’s not that simple,” he said, voice low. Controlled.

“It is for me,” you shot back. “Either we’re together, or we’re not. I’m not going to keep being your secret.”

He took a step closer. “You want everyone to know? You want to walk the halls with my name in your mouth like it’s safe?”

You blinked. “Yeah. I want to hold your hand without ducking behind a corner. I want to be seen.”

Woo Young scoffed—bitter, harsh. “You think that’s romantic? You think anyone around here’s gonna let you breathe if they find out you’re mine?”

Your breath caught. Yours.

He wasn’t denying it. He just didn’t want anyone else to know it.

“You’re not protecting me,” you said. “You’re protecting yourself.”

Silence.

His jaw clenched. You watched him war with himself—the need to hold on, and the instinct to push you away. The same look he always wore after a fight: bruised pride and something darker underneath.

“You knew what this was,” he finally said.

You stepped back. “Yeah. I thought it was something worth fighting for.”

You turned, heading back down the stairs, ignoring the way your chest ached when he didn’t stop you.

It had been four days.

Four days since you walked away from Kang Woo Young in that stairwell.

Four days of no calls. No texts. No midnight glances. Nothing.

You hadn’t spoken a word to him. Not in class. Not in passing. Not when he lingered in the hallway just a little too long, waiting for you to look at him.

You didn’t.

And that? That drove him insane.

He never said it out loud. Of course he didn’t—he was Woo Young. Cold, unreadable, untouchable. But beneath the silence, the storm was building.

He watched you laugh with a friend by the vending machines. That smile—the one that used to be just for him—was out in the open now. It made his jaw tighten.

Then he saw it.

Some guy. Tall. Too confident. Reaching for the same drink you did. Laughing. Leaning too close. And worse—you didn’t pull away.

Woo Young didn’t think. He moved.

One second, the guy was smiling.

The next, he was slammed against the wall.

“Back the fuck off,” Woo Young growled.

You spun around. “Woo Young—!”

The hallway fell quiet.

Eyes were on you. On him. On the way his hand fisted in the guy’s collar like he was ready to crack teeth against tile.

“Are you serious right now?” you snapped, shoving his arm.

He let go—but his eyes never left yours. Not even as the guy stumbled away, swearing under his breath.

“You’ve got no right to act like that,” you hissed.

“I do,” he said calmly. Too calmly. “You’re mine.”

That word again.

You felt heat crawl up your spine—not from desire this time, but fury.

“You only remember that when someone else looks at me.”

His silence was confirmation enough.

You turned to leave, but his voice—low, ragged—caught you.

“You don’t look at me anymore.”

You froze.

He wasn’t yelling. He wasn’t pushing. He just… sounded like something cracked under the surface.

“I see you walking past like I’m a stranger,” he continued. “Like none of it meant anything.”

You swallowed hard.

“You made me your secret, Woo Young,” you said quietly. “Now you don’t get to act like I betrayed you just because I stopped playing along.”

Then you walked away again.

But this time, his hand didn’t reach for you.

Not yet.

“The Way He Stays”

You sat on the steps of the old gym, chin tucked into your knees, shivering beneath your school jacket. Everyone had gone home hours ago. You hadn’t. Couldn’t.

There were too many voices in your head, and none of them were kind.

Then, like a ghost conjured from the fog, he was there. Geum Seong-je. His hair damp, hands buried in his pockets, the collar of his uniform sharp against his throat.

He didn’t ask what was wrong.

He never did.

Instead, he sat beside you — not touching, but close enough that your shoulders almost brushed. Close enough that his warmth bled through the space between your bodies like quiet reassurance.

“Did you eat?” he asked after a while.

You shook your head.

He clicked his tongue, pulled out a crumpled bag of snacks from his pocket, and shoved it toward you.

You didn’t take it.

He didn’t care. He opened the bag, pulled out a piece, and held it to your lips. His fingers hovered, waiting. Not forceful, just patient.

You opened your mouth.

“You always do this,” you said between bites.

“What?”

“Show up. Stay.”

He didn’t answer. But he turned his face slightly toward you, rain dripping from his lashes, and in the curve of his mouth there was something unspoken — something you’d never seen him give to anyone else.

“You scare people,” you whispered. “But not me.”

“Should I?” he asked, gaze steady.

“No.”

You reached for his hand. He let you. His fingers were rough, cold — but they closed around yours with surprising gentleness.

“You make it hard to breathe,” you admitted, “but I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

A beat passed.

Then: “You think I don’t feel it too?”

His voice was quiet. Uncertain, for once.

You looked up. His eyes — guarded, always — had softened. Just for you. Only for you.

And when he leaned in, his kiss wasn’t desperate. It was slow. Careful. Like he was afraid you might vanish.

But you didn’t.

You kissed him back.

Because no one had ever stayed the way he did. Silent. Solid. Unshakable. And in his broken, bruised way, Geum Seong-je loved you more fiercely than anyone else ever could.

No one knew.

Not your friends. Not his crew. Not even na baek Jin, and he knew everything about everyone.

You were Geum Seong-je’s secret — and somehow, that made you feel more important, not less. He didn’t hide you out of shame. He hid you because he was possessive. Because the world didn’t deserve to look at you the way he did.

“Someone’s gonna see,” you whispered.

“Let them,” he said, voice low. “I’ll break their jaw.”

You laughed, soft against his skin. “You can’t fight everyone.”

“Yes I can.”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah?” His hand slid up your back, fingers grazing bare skin where your shirt had ridden up. “But you keep crawling back.”

“Because I’m just as bad as you,” you said, grinning.

But then the grin faded — because you saw it. That flicker in his eyes. The one that only showed when he was afraid of losing you, even if he’d never say it out loud.

“Hey,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He didn’t speak. Just pressed his forehead to yours, breathing you in like he needed you to survive.

There was so much he never said — but he didn’t have to.

It was in the way he’d always stand behind you without a word, always watching, always ready. The way his hands only ever shook when they touched your skin. The way he kissed you like it hurt — like loving you scared the hell out of him.

You brushed your lips against his. He kissed you back slowly, fingers gripping your waist like you were the only thing tethering him to this earth.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, barely audible.

“I know.”

“And I’m yours,” he added, like a confession.

Your chest tightened.

This boy — this violent, guarded, impossible boy — didn’t just want you. He needed you. And you needed him, in all the dangerous, destructive ways that made no sense.

But in the quiet?

He was soft.

And in secret?

He was yours.

“Glass Cage: Part 8 – Our Vows, Our Future”

Geum Seong-je x fem!reader | dark romance, private wedding, intimate obsession, hope twisted into devotion

⸻

It starts on a night with no power.

Just wind through the trees.

Candles casting long shadows against the shrine room walls.

Your perfume lingering in the air.

His sketch of you half-finished on the floor, ink still wet.

You sit beside him.

Knees tucked under you.

Your hand resting lightly on his thigh.

“You ever think about it?” you whisper.

He doesn’t look up. “What?”

“Us. Making it… official.”

He stiffens, just slightly.

Then sets the sketch aside.

“Like a wedding?”

You nod.

“A private one. Just you and me.”

He turns to you.

Eyes like midnight storms. “You’d want that?”

You smile. Soft. Honest.

“I already live like I’m yours forever. Might as well say it out loud.”

⸻

He doesn’t answer.

Not with words.

He leans in, presses his forehead to yours.

And whispers:

“Then write the vows.”

⸻

That night, you write them in separate corners of the room.

No peeking. No rules. No white dresses or rings.

Just candlelight and ink.

Just love — obsessive, dark, loyal.

And when it’s time—

You both kneel on the floor.

Hands clasped.

The shrine around you.

His name on your thigh.

Your perfume on his collar.

He speaks first.

His voice is low. Reverent. Bare.

“I vow to keep you hidden if the world tries to take you.

I vow to love you so deeply it rewrites who I used to be.

I vow to never ask you to be good, only mine.

And I vow… that if I ever fall apart, I’ll fall apart with you in my arms.”

Your lips tremble.

Then it’s your turn.

“I vow to never try to change the way you love me.

I vow to see every twisted, brutal part of you — and stay.

I vow to never crave freedom more than your touch.

And I vow to want forever, even if the world burns for it.”

He pulls you to him then.

Hands in your hair.

Kisses you like you just gave him eternity.

⸻

The next morning, he disappears into the woodshed for hours.

You don’t ask.

You don’t need to.

You hear hammering. Sanding. The low drag of something heavy.

And when he finally comes back, his shirt clings to him with sweat.

Dirt on his hands. Dust in his hair.

He drops to his knees at your feet.

And whispers:

“If we’re going to be forever… then I want to start building for more than just us.”

⸻

You find the room the next day.

Hidden behind a panel in the hallway.

New. Unfinished.

But you know exactly what it is.

A crib in the corner.

Your favorite color on the walls.

And a tiny drawing — taped to the door.

A child. Holding both your hands.

Your throat tightens.

And when you walk back into the house to find him—

You throw your arms around him.

And say only one thing:

“I want forever. And I want it to look like this.”

———-

It starts with a suspicion.

You’ve been tired.

Sleepy in the middle of the day, hungry at odd hours, emotional over things that never touched you before.

But the thing that tells you—

The thing that confirms it—

Is the way Seong-je starts hovering.

Worse than usual.

You catch him staring at your hands, your stomach, your reflection in the mirror.

And when he presses his lips to your lower belly one night without a word, without explanation—

You know.

You buy a test in the little town.

You hide it in your coat.

Take it in the upstairs bathroom while he’s outside chopping wood.

You watch the line appear.

Clear. Unmistakable.

Pregnant.

And your hands shake.

Not from fear.

From how much you want this.

⸻

You find him on the back porch.

He’s lighting a cigarette — one of the last ones left from his old stash.

You take it from his mouth.

Flick it out into the wet grass.

Then place his hand against your stomach.

He freezes.

“Yours,” you whisper.

Then — quieter — “Ours.”

He doesn’t move.

Not for a long time.

And then he pulls you to him. Wraps both arms around you. Holds you like you’re glass.

And says the first thing that comes to him:

“I won’t let the world touch her.”

⸻

You find out it’s a girl in the next town over.

A tiny clinic tucked between forgotten buildings.

The nurse smiles. “Want to know the sex?”

You nod.

Seong-je stays sitting, hands clenched on his knees.

“She’s a girl.”

He lets out a breath that sounds like he’s been holding it for years.

Then he looks at you.

And something in him shatters.

⸻

The months pass in a strange rhythm.

He won’t let you lift anything.

He paints her room twice, because the first color didn’t feel soft enough.

He carves her name into the side of the crib.

He talks to her when he thinks you’re asleep — whispers things like:

“I’m going to teach you how to fight. How to be soft without being weak.”

“I’ll kill for you before anyone hurts you. Just like I did for your mother.”

“You’ll never have to fear the dark — not while I’m breathing.”

⸻

The labor comes one rainy afternoon.

He drives you into town, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

No music. No sound. Just the road winding through the woods and your hand clamped in his.

The little hospital is quiet.

The nurses kind.

He won’t leave your side.

Not for a second.

He whispers “I love you” between every contraction, every push, every breath.

Until—

She arrives.

Tiny. Red. Wailing.

And everything stops.

⸻

He cries for the second time in his life.

The first was when you came back to him after trying to run.

The second is when they place his daughter in his arms.

He doesn’t say a word.

Just holds her.

Like she’s something holy.

⸻

You name her that night.

No middle names from old families.

No pieces of a past life you’ve long abandoned.

Just a name that fits her.

A name that sounds like warmth and wildfire.

⸻

The drive home is long and soft.

The baby sleeps in your arms.

Seong-je watches the rearview like a predator — like something might still come for you.

But nothing does.

You reach the house.

The lights are on.

The crib is ready.

The fire is warm.

And when he carries her inside — cradled like she might dissolve — he whispers:

“You’ll never know pain. Not while I’m alive.”

You place her gently in the crib.

She makes a tiny noise.

Then settles.

And for the first time, your house is silent — not from emptiness, but peace.

⸻

You sleep that night with her beside you.

With him wrapped around both of you.

His hand resting on her back.

Your hand on his.

And when the wind picks up outside — rattling the trees, brushing the windows — you don’t flinch.

Because your daughter is safe.

Because she has the father the world fears.

And the mother who chose this life, again and again.

———

This is the last part and did take me the longest (the rest were in my drafts so I posted them all at once cause I didn’t want to make y’all wait😘)

⸻

“Glass Cage: Part |||– The Lock and the Longing”

Geum Seong-je x fem!reader | dark romance, obsession, soft tension, quiet ache

⸻

It’s the only night he doesn’t come.

You wait.

Eyes wide open, curled in the soft nest of blankets and expensive sheets in the basement room — but the door doesn’t open. The chair remains empty. No quiet breathing from the corner. No watching. No warmth.

You stare into the dark, heart drumming.

He’s never missed a night.

He always sits in that chair like a silent guardian — a king keeping vigil over the only thing in his world he wants to protect.

But not tonight.

You wait another hour.

Nothing.

At first, it feels like abandonment. Then something else entirely.

Hunger.

Not for food. Not for air. For him. His presence. His closeness. His voice in the dark.

You slide out of bed barefoot, floor cool under your toes. You go to the door. It’s locked, of course — the same way it’s always been when he leaves at night.

But he forgot something this time.

You’re not scared anymore.

You want to find him.

You go to the vanity drawer. Dig under the perfume bottles and silk ribbons until you find it — the thin hairpin he tucked there last week when brushing your hair. You twist it once, twice — remember something you saw in a movie once.

Click.

The lock gives.

Your breath catches.

You push the door open slowly. The upstairs hallway stretches out like a black river, long and quiet and full of shadows. You step out, careful. Listening. Not a sound.

Not even him.

You move barefoot through the corridor.

First room — empty. Just storage. Dusty linens, untouched.

Second — a study. Neat rows of books. Closed curtains.

Third — locked.

Fourth — another guest room. Clean, unused.

Then the last one. At the very end of the hall.

His room.

You feel it before you even open the door. It smells like him. That warm, masculine scent — clean soap, leather, cedar, and something sharp beneath it. You press your palm to the door, breath trembling.

Then push.

It opens with a soft creak.

The room is dark, but the curtains are cracked just enough to let moonlight spill across the floor. You see the edge of the bed first. Huge. Unmade.

And then — him.

Geum Seong-je.

Asleep on his back, one arm resting over his stomach, the other turned palm-up on the sheets beside him. His hair is slightly messy, lips parted, chest rising and falling under a thin black shirt.

You freeze.

You’ve never seen him like this — unguarded.

He looks so young. So tired.

So… human.

Something inside your chest twists.

You step forward. Slowly. Silently. The floor doesn’t creak under your weight. You approach the bed like it’s an altar and he’s the god that owns you.

You slip beneath the covers.

His body shifts instinctively, heat radiating off him like fire. You slide close, curl against him — your cheek resting right over his heart.

The moment you touch him, he stiffens.

Then —

“…You picked the lock?”

His voice is quiet. Half-awake.

You don’t answer right away.

You only whisper, “I couldn’t sleep without you.”

A beat.

Then a sigh leaves his chest — long and low and defeated.

His arm curls around you without resistance, pulling you flush against him. Your legs tangle. Your fingers curl into the hem of his shirt. He presses his face into your hair.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he murmurs.

“You said I was never a prisoner,” you breathe.

He doesn’t respond.

But he holds you tighter.

⸻

Later that night, you shift in your sleep and feel him watching you.

Not from the chair.

But from inches away.

His eyes are open now. Awake. Silent.

Like he still can’t believe you chose this.

Like he doesn’t know how to survive the ache you’ve carved into his ribs.

His voice barely breaks the dark.

“You’re mine,” he whispers.

And you, still half-asleep, curl deeper into his chest and murmur, “I was always yours.”

I Know You Missed Me

Dark romance•smut**

Geum seong je x fem!reader

You hadn’t seen him for three weeks.

You changed your number. Blocked him everywhere. Moved out of your apartment without telling anyone where. But Geum Seong-je had a way of finding things — people — when he wanted them. And he always wanted you.

So when you opened the door to your new place and saw him standing there in the hallway, hood up, eyes bloodshot, fists clenched at his sides, you knew it was over.

“You really thought you could disappear on me?” he said quietly.

You should have slammed the door. Screamed. Called for help. But your heart was already racing — not from fear. From that sick, aching part of you that missed him every night, even when you hated him.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I never stopped looking.”

His voice was low, almost broken. When he stepped into your apartment without asking, you didn’t stop him. When he grabbed your face and kissed you like he was drowning, you didn’t push him away. And when he whispered, “You ruined me, and you think I’d let you leave?” — you pulled him closer.

His jacket hit the floor. Your shirt followed. His hands were rough, desperate — dragging down your back, gripping your waist like he could hold you in place forever.

“Say it,” he growled against your neck. “Say you missed me.”

You didn’t want to. You tried to lie.

But his hand slipped between your thighs, fingers sliding over your underwear, and your body betrayed you with a soft gasp that only made him smirk.

“Liar,” he whispered. “You’re soaked.”

He pushed your panties aside, fingers teasing you, slow at first, then harder when you arched into him. Your hands tangled in his shirt, dragging it over his head. His body was tense, inked with bruises and rage, but he let you touch him like you were the only thing that calmed the fire.

“You think I don’t know you?” he rasped. “You leave, you run — and you still want me like this.”

You hated how true it was.

He pushed you back onto the bed, crawled over you like a storm — wild eyes, clenched jaw, every muscle in his body coiled like he was barely holding himself together. He kissed you like he wanted to devour you. And when he finally slid inside you, deep and punishing, you moaned his name like it was salvation.

“I’ll never let you go,” he groaned into your ear. “I’d burn the whole world to keep you.”

His thrusts were rough at first, fueled by weeks of madness — but when your nails dug into his back and your legs wrapped around his waist, he slowed. Not because he wanted to — but because he needed to feel you break for him.

Every time you gasped his name, every time your body trembled around him, it made something darker settle behind his eyes.

“You’re mine,” he said, forehead against yours, breath heavy. “You always fucking were.”

When you came undone under him, crying out, he followed with a hoarse moan and buried his face in your neck, breathing you in like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

He didn’t leave that night.

He held you after — arms wrapped tightly around you, his voice barely a whisper: “Run again, and I’ll come find you. Over and over.”

And you knew you would let him.

Every time.

I need more geum seong je fics to read on here. Ive done read them all😩😩😩

“Cherry Coke & Cigarettes”

(Part 2 !smut!)

⚠️ NSFW / 18+ SMUT

Tags: Dom!Geum Seong-je, sub!innocent reader, first time, fingering, soft corruption, praise kink, possessive dirty talk, slightly rough but caring.

@ashayein

————-

You weren’t supposed to be here again.

You told yourself it was just a one-time thing—the Cherry Coke, the stolen glances, the kiss that nearly took your breath away. But here you were. Standing in Seong-je’s room, heart pounding, hoodie sleeves bunched in your fists.

“You nervous?” he asked, sitting on the edge of his bed, legs spread like he had all the time in the world.

“Yes.”

He smiled, eyes flickering down your body. “Good. You should be.”

You swallowed. “I… want you.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You sure?”

You nodded.

“Then come here.”

You walked over, slow steps across the hardwood until you stood between his legs. His hands came up, resting at your waist gently, thumbs rubbing circles over the fabric.

“Look at you,” he murmured, dark eyes devouring you. “Little angel… about to let a guy like me touch you like that.”

“I want it to be you,” you whispered. “Only you.”

Something shifted in his expression. Like the last thread of patience snapped.

He pulled you into his lap, your legs straddling his thighs, your chest flush against his. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, do you?”

You shook your head, fingers curling in his shirt.

“Then let me show you.”

His mouth was on yours again—hot, deep, and claiming. His tongue slid past your lips, tasting every inch, setting your nerves on fire. You moaned softly, hands gripping his shoulders like he was your only anchor.

“Take this off,” he said against your lips, tugging at your hoodie. “Wanna see you.”

You hesitated, cheeks flushing.

“I’ll go slow,” he said, voice lower now, rough with restraint. “We stop if you say stop.”

You nodded.

You lifted your hoodie over your head. His hands didn’t waste a second—they slid up your bare waist, fingertips dragging over your skin like he was memorizing you.

“Fuck…” he breathed. “You’re perfect.”

You whimpered as his hands cupped your chest, thumbs brushing over your bra. He leaned in and kissed the top curve of one breast, then the other, so tender it made you ache.

“You shaking?” he asked against your skin.

“Yes…”

“I’ll make it feel good, baby. I promise.”

You let him push the straps down. The moment your bra was gone, he stared—quiet, reverent—and then leaned down to press a kiss to your sternum.

And then he bit. Not hard—just enough for you to gasp and cling to him.

“You’re so soft,” he whispered. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

One hand cradled your back as the other massaged your chest, mouth working over your nipple with tongue and teeth until you were whimpering his name.

“Seong-je—”

He chuckled. “There she is.”

His hands slid lower, under your waistband. “Can I touch you here?”

You nodded, breathless.

He pushed your shorts down, slowly, until you were straddling him in nothing but your panties. His fingers pressed lightly over the damp fabric.

“Already wet?” he teased. “Did I do that?”

“Y-yeah…”

“Good.”

He slid the fabric aside and dipped two fingers through your folds. You moaned, hips twitching.

“You’re soaked,” he said, voice rough. “You’ve been needing this for a while, haven’t you?”

You buried your face in his neck, nodding.

His fingers circled your clit gently, teasing, never giving you what you really wanted. “You ever touched yourself before?”

“…No.”

That made him groan. “Fuck. You’re gonna make me lose it.”

He eased one finger into you, slow and deliberate. You gasped, tightening around him instinctively.

“Shh… I got you,” he whispered, kissing your temple. “Just feel it.”

He added a second finger, curling them gently as he whispered filth in your ear.

“Feel how tight you are? Gonna stretch you out so good… make you mine.”

Your hips started to roll against his hand, chasing the pressure.

“That’s it,” he whispered, licking into your neck. “Let go for me, baby. Just like that.”

You came with a soft cry, trembling in his lap, clutching his shoulders like you’d fall apart without him. He kissed you through it, slow and deep, letting you ride the high with his fingers still inside you.

When you could finally breathe again, you whispered, “What about you…?”

He chuckled, dark and low. “Don’t worry. I’ll be inside you next time.”

You blinked.

“Oh, yeah,” he smirked. “You think I’m letting you go after this?”

———-