Latest Posts by c4shm0neyxxx - Page 2

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.

Every Time

Geum Seong-je x Fem!Reader

Dark Romance · Obsession · Intimate NSFW · Angst & Craving

____________

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.

No One Else(follow up) Mine, Completely

Geum Seong-je x Fem!Reader

Dark Romance · Obsession · Established Relationship · Emotional Intensity

This will be the last of the “no one else” series 😖😖

Requested: yess!!

⸻

You used to wake up alone.

Now, it was always him.

Geum Seong-je didn’t sleep much, but when he did, it was always with an arm flung over your waist like a chain. His breath against the back of your neck, warm and steady. His body curled around yours, protective and overwhelming all at once.

When you stirred that morning, his grip immediately tightened.

“Where are you going?” he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

“I just moved,” you whispered. “Relax.”

He didn’t.

“You move too far and my chest starts to ache,” he said, almost like a joke. But you knew better.

You rolled over, facing him. His hair was messy, eyes still heavy-lidded, but alert. Watching. Like he was still afraid you’d disappear.

“You don’t have to watch me like I’m going to vanish,” you said softly.

“You did,” he answered, eyes locked to yours. “Once. I won’t forget it.”

His tone wasn’t accusing. It was just… truth. The kind of truth that haunted him.

You reached out, brushing your fingers down the scar on his cheek, the one he never talked about. “I’m not running again.”

His expression didn’t change much, but you saw it — the flicker of relief. The crack in his armor.

“Good,” he said. “Because I’d find you.”

“I know.”

You both lay there in silence for a moment.

And then he shifted, propping himself on his elbow to look down at you. There was a fire in his eyes. Not anger — devotion. The dangerous kind. The kind that didn’t know where he ended and you began.

“I don’t like the way people look at you,” he said. “Like they deserve a chance. Like they don’t know you’re already taken.”

You smiled faintly. “They don’t matter.”

He didn’t smile back. “They’d matter if you looked back.”

“I wouldn’t,” you said. “You know that.”

But he was already pulling you closer, holding you like he could fuse you to him with just his hands. “I trust you,” he murmured. “I don’t trust the world.”

You rested your forehead against his. “Then stay close.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t a request. It was a truth you’d both already accepted.

And for better or worse — in obsession, in fire, in love twisted and beautiful — you were his.

Completely

I Just Want You

Requested:yesssss!!

Na Baek-jin x Fem!Reader

Soft NSFW · Comfort · Gentle Dom · Intimate First Time Vibes

⸻

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing the world out.

Baek-jin was quiet, as always. But his eyes—those sharp, calculating eyes—had softened. He stood just inside his apartment, one hand still on the door, the other reaching for you like it was instinct.

“Come here,” he murmured.

You did.

His hand slid up the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he kissed you—slow, deliberate. There was no rush, no fumbling. Just heat building gradually, like sunlight creeping over your skin.

Your back hit the wall with a soft thud, but his touch was gentle, like he was afraid of breaking you. His hands cradled your face, then your hips, and finally your waist as he pulled you closer, mouths barely parting between breathless kisses.

“You sure?” he asked against your lips.

You nodded. “I want you, Baek-jin.”

That look flickered in his eyes—something dark, something protective. He didn’t say anything. He just picked you up like it was easy, carrying you to the bedroom with his forehead pressed to yours.

He laid you down on the bed like you were the most fragile thing in the world. His touch never rushed. Fingers traced every inch of you—your collarbones, your sides, the soft skin of your thighs. Each kiss left heat behind, trailing lower with every breath. His mouth was reverent on your skin, like he was trying to memorize the taste of you.

Clothes disappeared slowly. His hoodie first, yours next, layer by layer until there was nothing left but skin and breath and need.

He hovered above you, bare and beautiful, eyes locked on yours. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

You reached up, hand curling at the back of his neck. “It’s not. I want all of you.”

His movements were careful, but when he finally slid inside you, it stole the breath from your lungs. He gasped softly against your throat, burying his face in your neck as he pushed in deeper, your body stretching to take him.

“Fuck—” he whispered, voice strained. “You feel so good. So warm.”

You clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist, letting him go slow, deep, loving. He moved like he wasn’t just fucking you—he was claiming a place inside you that no one else had touched. His hands gripped your hips like they anchored him, like letting go might kill him.

“You’re mine,” he said softly, lips brushing your ear. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you.”

He kissed you through every moan, every slow thrust, every wave of pleasure that made your toes curl and your body tremble under him. And when you fell apart around him, crying his name with your nails raking down his back, he held you like you were something holy.

He came with a soft groan, hips stuttering, forehead pressed to yours. Even then, he didn’t let go.

Later, you lay tangled together in silence. His arms around your waist, chest to your back, thumb stroking lazily along your hip.

“You okay?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

You smiled, heart full. “More than okay.”

He kissed your shoulder, lips lingering. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

“Just Hold Me”

Pairing: Geum Seong-je x Reader

Reader has gone through a bad day and just needs to feel safe

Genre:fluff

⸻

The day had clawed its way through you.

Everything that could go wrong had. Your phone screen cracked. You failed a test you swore you were ready for. Someone said something cruel, and it stuck to you like tar. Every word today felt louder than usual. Every hallway, more suffocating. You were tired of people talking at you, expecting things from you, watching you.

You didn’t cry. Not yet. You just moved on autopilot, feet dragging until they brought you to the one place you didn’t have to pretend.

The warehouse was quiet. Familiar.

Geum Seong-je was there, back turned, doing something with his hands—maybe taping up his gloves, maybe cleaning up after a fight. He always had a reason to keep busy. Even when things were quiet around him, his body was never truly still.

You didn’t say anything. You just walked up behind him slowly, like approaching a wild animal. You knew how he was. Touchy. Defensive. Like if you leaned on him wrong, he’d snap and bare his teeth. But today… today you just needed something to anchor you.

So you leaned forward and rested your head gently on his back, arms not even wrapping around him—just laying against him like a ghost of a hug.

He stiffened immediately.

“The hell are you doing?” His voice was sharp, not yelling—but cutting.

You didn’t move. “I’m tired.”

He took a step forward, trying to shake you off. “Go sleep somewhere else.”

You grabbed the back of his hoodie, fingers curling into the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you from sinking. “Just for a second.”

He turned around now, face shadowed, brows furrowed in irritation. “I’m not your damn pillow. Don’t come around me like that.”

You finally looked up at him, and this time you couldn’t stop your voice from cracking. “I just want to be held.”

It came out so small.

So raw.

Like a piece of you broke off and landed at his feet.

He opened his mouth—probably to say something sharp, maybe tell you to go home—but then he saw your face. Not just your red-rimmed eyes or the trembling line of your mouth, but all of it. The weight. The silence. The fight you had clearly already lost with yourself.

His jaw tightened. Then relaxed.

He sighed, turning his head slightly like he was annoyed with himself.

“…Tch. Come here.”

You didn’t move fast—scared he’d change his mind if you did. But he didn’t stop you when you stepped forward. Didn’t push you when you leaned into him again.

This time, his arms came up—awkward at first, like he didn’t know where to put them. But eventually, one arm wrapped around your back, then the other rested lightly on your shoulders. It wasn’t tight. It wasn’t romantic. But it was real.

Warm. Solid. Human.

His hoodie smelled like worn leather and faint cologne. His chest was steady under your cheek. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding for hours.

You didn’t talk.

He didn’t ask what happened.

And that was the best part.

Seong-je wasn’t the type to whisper comforts or tell you things would be okay. But he was warm. And still. And after a few minutes, his hand lifted—hesitantly—and started brushing down your back in a slow, grounding motion.

“You should’ve just said something,” he muttered under his breath.

You smiled weakly into his chest. “I didn’t think you’d let me.”

“…Yeah, well.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t think you’d cry on me either, but here we are.”

You weren’t crying, not really—but maybe he said it just to give you permission.

You stayed like that for a while. Long enough for the noise in your head to dull. Long enough for his arms to tighten just a bit more. Long enough to believe—for a little while—that the world wasn’t as cruel as it had felt this morning.

And Geum Seong-je, rough edges and all, held you like maybe he needed this too.

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

“You Don’t Know Me, But You Will”

Geum Seong-je x Younger Reader(by three years)

Genre: Dark Romance / Obsession / Psychological

Geum seong je finds himself stalking and following her. Memorizing her schedule. Knowing where she lives. It doesn’t bother her. It makes her fall more…

⸻

She didn’t know his name.

You had passed by him maybe once—twice, if fate was being funny. You didn’t even look up when it happened. Just another boy in the background. Another blurred face in the messy canvas of school and city and bus rides.

But to him, you were everything.

Geum Seong-je noticed you the first time you passed his crew on the back street near the old convenience store. Your uniform was neater than the others’, your head lowered like you didn’t want to be seen. But he saw you. He always sees what others don’t.

That day, he followed you.

At first, just a block. Then two. Then every afternoon. You always took the same way home, headphones in, oblivious to the shadows you walked past. He memorized your routine. 4:07 p.m., you left school. 4:15, stopped for bubble tea. 4:38, turned the corner by the florist and disappeared into that tiny house with the rusting gate.

He didn’t know why it started. It didn’t matter.

There was a pull, like something primal. You were younger—three years, maybe more—but it didn’t register as a problem in his mind. Age didn’t mean anything. Not when he’d already decided you were his. Not when he felt something raw and alive clawing at his insides every time he saw you.

You smiled at a classmate once—some boy your age—and Geum Seong-je gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. He didn’t like that. You didn’t even know him, but he burned with possessiveness anyway.

He watched you through windows. From rooftops. He learned your schedule better than you knew it yourself. Some nights, he followed you all the way to your tutoring sessions. Once, he even stepped into the same bookstore just to hear your voice when you asked the clerk about a novel.

Your voice made his fingers twitch. He wanted to own that softness. Trap it in a glass jar and never let anyone else hear it again.

You didn’t know it yet, but Geum Seong-je had already chosen you.

And he was just waiting for the right moment to make you see him too.

Lately, you’ve felt it.

A shift in the air. A weight behind your every step, like someone’s gaze is stitching itself into your spine.

It started small. The hair on your arms rising when you turned the corner near the convenience store. The feeling of eyes pressing against your back on the bus, even when no one was looking. You chalked it up to stress, to weird dreams and too many late nights reading horror stories.

But now?

Now you’re not so sure.

Today, you swear someone followed you.

Not with footsteps. Not anything obvious. Just that pull again — the sense that someone’s always a few steps behind, never touching, never close, but there. Breathing the same air. Watching.

And the weirdest part?

You’re not scared.

You should be. Any sane person would be. But instead… there’s something else curling in your stomach when it happens. A strange calm. A chill that makes you walk slower instead of faster.

It feels like something’s waiting for you. Like he’s waiting.

You don’t know his name. But you’ve seen him — tall, maroon jacket, eyes like they’ve seen too much. He’s always on the edge of your world. Near the bus stop. Outside the boba shop. Once, you saw him in the reflection of a window… just standing across the street, his gaze slicing straight through the glass like he could see inside you.

You don’t know him.

But you feel him.

Like he lives beneath your skin. Like something buried deep in your chest recognizes him, even if your mind doesn’t understand why.

It’s not love. It’s not fear either. It’s something in between. Something darker. Something magnetic.

From across the street, Geum Seong-je watches you pause. You turn your head like you can sense him. His breath catches. You feel him, don’t you?

He knew you would.

He smiles.

You’re almost ready.

LEE JUN YOUNG THE MAN YOU ARE UGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

“The Quiet Between Us”

Pairing: Yeon Si-eun x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, slow-burn comfort

⸻

The wind was crisp today—cool enough to make you shiver despite the faint sunlight filtering through the trees in Yeongdeungpo Park. You tugged your sleeves over your hands and glanced beside you.

Yeon Si-eun was sitting on the park bench, back straight, hands resting neatly on his knees. His expression was neutral as always—guarded, distant—but you could tell he was relaxed in his own way. The gentle sway of his leg and the way he let out a soft breath every now and then told you more than his face ever did.

“You’re cold,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You blinked. “What gave it away? My chattering teeth?”

His gaze flickered to you—dry, deadpan.

“You’re not that subtle,” he replied.

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. “You could offer me your jacket, you know. Like a proper gentleman.”

“I would,” he said without missing a beat, “but you’d probably drown in it.”

That made you laugh, and you didn’t miss the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. You loved that—you loved the way he didn’t smile often, but when he did, it felt like you’d uncovered something rare. You didn’t need big gestures with Si-eun. His presence, his quiet concern, was enough.

“You always come out here when you’re thinking,” you said, watching the small pond across from the bench. Ducks floated lazily, undisturbed by the cold.

“It’s quiet here.”

“You don’t like quiet?”

“No, I like it,” he said, turning his head slightly to look at you. “But when I’m with you, the quiet feels different.”

Your heart stuttered.

He wasn’t the kind of guy to say things like that. He wasn’t the type to offer compliments or be affectionate without reason. But every now and then, he dropped these quiet, thoughtful lines that left you breathless.

“Different how?” you asked softly.

Si-eun looked away, watching the leaves dance in the breeze. His brows drew together—not in irritation, just contemplation. You’d come to recognize the subtle shifts in his expressions.

“It’s not heavy,” he finally said. “Silence is usually… pressure. But with you, it’s not.”

You didn’t speak for a while, afraid that anything you said might shatter the moment. You simply leaned your shoulder into his, your touch light but intentional. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t move away.

He let you stay there.

That was enough.

⸻

You and Si-eun weren’t dating—at least, not officially. You weren’t even sure what you were. Friends, maybe. Companions. Something suspended in that space between understanding and unspoken affection.

But days like this made you feel like you didn’t need a label.

“You know,” you said after a while, watching a kid try to feed bread to a pigeon twice his size, “most people wouldn’t pick a cold bench over their warm beds on a weekend.”

He shrugged. “Most people aren’t me.”

“Mm, true. But most people aren’t this pretty, either.”

That made him pause.

“Pretty?”

“You know you are,” you teased. “If you ever wanted to stop beating people up, you could just model for skincare brands. You’ve got that ‘stone-cold beauty’ thing going for you.”

He gave you a flat look, but his ears were pink. That was enough for you to claim victory.

“You’re weird,” he said quietly.

“So are you.”

There was a pause. He was still looking at you, his gaze lingering just a moment too long to be casual.

“That’s why I don’t mind being around you,” he murmured.

You were pretty sure your heart forgot how to beat for a second.

⸻

Later, the two of you wandered the nearby streets, your footsteps naturally falling in rhythm. Si-eun didn’t talk much, but his presence filled the space in other ways. You always noticed the little things—how he walked on the side closest to the road, how his eyes subtly scanned your surroundings, how he slowed his steps if you fell behind.

There was comfort in that. In knowing that he cared in ways that didn’t need to be said aloud.

You stopped in front of a small convenience store.

“Want hot chocolate?” you asked.

He nodded once. You ducked inside, grabbing two cans of warm cocoa from the heated shelf. When you came back out, he was leaning against the wall, hands tucked into his pockets, face turned up slightly to the sky like he was trying to read something in the clouds.

You handed him one can.

“Thanks,” he said, fingers brushing yours as he took it.

The contact made you warm in a way the drink couldn’t.

You both stood there for a moment, sipping cocoa in silence.

“I used to do this alone,” he said suddenly.

You looked at him.

“Come out on weekends. Watch people. Drink hot chocolate.”

You smiled. “Sounds lonely.”

“It was.”

His eyes met yours. There was something unguarded in his gaze, a softness that didn’t come often.

“It’s not anymore,” he said.

“Only I Hurt You”

Oneshot were seong je finds reader in his bed after he was out handling a couple of guys who had fought her while walking home in an alley way (he told her to go home but she went to his house instead)

The front door creaked when he opened it.

Blood still clung to his knuckles, dried into the creases of his fingers. His hoodie was soaked with someone else’s sweat, maybe some of his own, and the adrenaline hadn’t fully left his bloodstream yet. It rarely did.

They’d laid hands on you. That was enough to make him see red. Enough to make him track them down like dogs.

But the house was too quiet now.

Geum Seong-je kicked off his boots and headed down the dim hallway. The rain hadn’t stopped — he could still hear it hammering against the windows. He told you to go home. Told you to listen.

You never listened.

And when he stepped into his bedroom, there you were.

Curled in his bed, soaking wet, blood streaked down one arm, your lip split and trembling. His sheets were damp. Your clothes were stuck to your skin like a second layer. Your shoes were still on.

“You walked here?” His voice came out low. Barely controlled.

You didn’t look at him. Didn’t answer.

He crossed the room in two steps.

“You walked here. In the rain. After they touched you?”

You blinked. He could see the shiver you tried to suppress, your body reacting before your pride could hide it. The blood on your shirt wasn’t all dried. Some of it was still fresh.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” you whispered.

That cracked something in him.

Geum Seong-je didn’t speak for a long moment. He just stood there, fists clenched, chest rising slowly. Then, without a word, he knelt at the edge of the bed and started untying your soaked laces. You flinched when his knuckles brushed your ankle.

“I told you to go home,” he muttered. “But you came here, instead.”

Your voice was barely audible. “This is home.”

He froze. Just for a second.

Then he yanked your shoes off with more force than necessary and peeled your jacket away from your shoulders. It clung, resisting, your blood and the rainwater mixing into a mess that stained his fingers.

You tried to sit up, but his hand landed on your thigh — firm, grounding.

“Stay still.”

You didn’t dare disobey.

He left for a moment. You heard drawers open, the faucet running. When he came back, he had a towel, gauze, ointment, and one of his oversized shirts.

“Take the top off.” His tone left no room for argument.

You moved slowly, the sting in your ribs sharper now that the adrenaline was fading. He watched you, eyes narrow, jaw tight, like he was memorizing every bruise so he could repay them tenfold.

He cleaned the cut on your arm with terrifying gentleness, fingertips brushing over your skin like you were something fragile, breakable.

“You should’ve called me,” he murmured.

“You told me to leave.”

“You should’ve still called.”

Your eyes flicked up. “Would you have come?”

He paused.

Then leaned in.

“I’m always coming for you.”

The silence between you tightened, thick with something you didn’t know how to name. You winced when he pressed antiseptic to your split lip. He cupped your jaw to steady you, his thumb brushing your cheek, rough with callouses and blood.

“I handled it,” he said. “They won’t touch you again. They won’t touch anyone again.”

A beat.

“Did you kill them?”

His eyes didn’t flinch. “No. But I made them wish I had.”

The room went still.

“You scare me sometimes,” you admitted.

He brushed damp hair from your face. Then leaned forward and kissed your forehead — barely a whisper of contact.

“I know,” he said. “But I’m the only one who’s allowed to hurt you.”

You didn’t know whether to cry or kiss him.

So instead, you let him pull his shirt over your head, let him dry your hair with the towel like he’d done this a hundred times before. And when he climbed into bed behind you, one arm sliding under your neck and the other over your waist, pulling you close, you didn’t fight it.

You just let yourself be held. By the boy who broke bones with his fists and still handled you like porcelain.

Because somehow, in all this cold, bleeding chaos —

Geum Seong-je was the only warmth you had left.

Geum seong je x reader headcanons!!

Obsession Disguised as Protection

• He tells you he’s “just keeping you safe,” but it’s really about control. You’re not allowed to walk home alone. Your location is always known.

• He doesn’t trust anyone else with you — even your friends. He’ll start isolating you, gently at first. Then, not so gently.

• If someone touches you — even accidentally — he notices. And that person will feel it, later. Quietly. Violently.

Emotional Withholding & Power Games

• He’s not affectionate in public. Not out of shame — but control. You’re his. That’s enough.

• When you fight, he shuts down. Ice-cold silence. You’ll beg for a reaction, and he’ll stare at you with that deadpan expression that makes your heart drop.

• But later, he’ll show up outside your door, bruised from a fight, and press his forehead to yours like nothing happened.

Violent Loyalty

• The only way he knows how to love is through violence. If someone hurts you — even emotionally — he will retaliate.

• He doesn’t understand emotional boundaries. If you cry, he gets angry. Not at you — at the world. At whoever made you feel like that.

• He has no limits when it comes to revenge. People disappear. Rumors start. You stop asking questions.

He Watches, Always

• He doesn’t need to ask what you’re doing. He already knows. His reach in the streets makes sure of that.

• Sometimes he’ll be standing outside your class, not saying a word. Just watching. People start whispering. You don’t know if you’re flattered or terrified.

• He reads your texts when you leave your phone unattended. Not because he doubts you. Because he needs to know.

His Softness is Conditional

• He shows affection when you’re broken — when you’re crying in the dark or trembling after a confrontation. That’s when he becomes gentle. That’s when his voice drops low, and he brushes hair from your face like you’re something fragile.

• But if you act too independent, too distant? He withdraws immediately. Gives you the cold shoulder until you come crawling back. He needs to feel needed.

Your Pain Grounds HiM

• He doesn’t flinch at your anger. But your tears? That kills him — because he knows he causes them, and yet he still wants to keep you close.

• He once held you after a breakdown and whispered: “No one’s allowed to hurt you. Not even me.” But he already had.

Codependence as Romance

• He tells you, “You don’t need anyone but me.” Over and over — until you believe it. Until it’s true.

• You can’t tell if you’re in love or if you’ve been caged. But some twisted part of you doesn’t want to escape.

• He’d burn the world down for you — but he’d burn you too, just to keep you his.

BONUS IMAGINES!

Even if he has a cold demeanor he would give In to your hugs and kisses and if you asked he’d cuddle you to sleep.

He loves seeing you wrap your arms around him if it means you will sleep feeling safe.

If it ever seems he’s not listening to you when he’s on his while your telling him all your school problems or girl drama. He’s most likely writing down names so he knows who he can’t trust around you.

Arguments end the same sometimes with him. He’s yelling at you. He leaves y’all’s apartment.he comes back with silent treatment, so your the one having to say sorry. Then y’all end up cuddling on the couch watching tv

-MASTERLIST-

A/N: There will be more!!!! If you want me to write any more kpop groups. Idols. Actors, etc plz ask!!!!(i dont rlly do smut but I will try if you request it😉)

A lot of my fanfic will have songs that you can listen to that give the vibe of the writing but you don’t have to listen to them you can listen to your own music!!

About me!!

She/her, Spanish/Mexican American😛

I don’t really write smut, I do sometimes, only if requested or asked(plz don’t be scared to ask😅)

I love kpop, punk rock, and underground rap/Memphis rap!!!!

I also love love LOVE twilight (team Jacob✊😜) I’m also a big jasper fan😏

—————

But these are the ones I plan on writing(an have written) thus far👇

Weak hero class:

Geum seong je:

No one else pt1, pt 2, pt3, pt4, pt 5

Geum seong je x reader headcanons

Only I hurt you

No One Else (follow up)

Every Time

I Know You Missed Me

The Last Cigarette

Cherry coke & cigarettes

Cherry coke & cigarettes pt 2

Glass cage pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5, pt 6, pt7, pt 8

Yeon sieun:

The quiet between us

Na Baek Jin:

I Just Want You

Na Baek Jin Headcanons

Kang woo young:

Dirty little secret

Rumors & recordings

Baek dongha:

Beneath the smoke

Strangers from Hell:

Seo moon Jo:

To be loved by a monster

Stray kids:

Nothing yet

P1harmony:

Nothing yet

“No One Else” — Part 8 (Final): “If I Can’t Have You”

Genre: Dark romance, psychological climax, toxic intimacy. Very little brief mention of smut

Tone: Obsessive desire, emotional conflict, sensual tension, blurred lines

A/n: this is the last part but if you want like a follow up of there lives i’ll do it!!

⸻

You knew he’d come back.

He’d been gone for three days, but his absence only thickened the air, like the moments before a storm—calm, but electric. When you opened your bedroom door and found him there, sitting on your bed in silence, it wasn’t fear that hit you first.

It was recognition.

You shut the door quietly behind you. Your heart didn’t race. It waited.

“Hello,” he said.

His voice was low. Tired. Dangerous.

“I should call someone,” you said.

“You won’t.”

And the terrifying part was—he was right.

He stood slowly, shadows clinging to him like they belonged to him. His presence filled the room until you couldn’t breathe around it. He looked at you like a man who’d spent days walking barefoot through hell, just to stand in front of you again.

“You lied to me,” he said. “You pulled away.”

“I needed to.”

“I needed you,” he growled, stepping closer. “Do you know what it felt like? Thinking you’d outgrown me? That you’d left me?”

You stepped back, but not far.

He stopped inches from you, chest rising and falling fast. He looked desperate and furious and shattered.

“I wanted to forget you,” you whispered.

“Liar.”

His hand cupped your jaw—rough, trembling. His thumb slid over your cheek like he was memorizing it all over again.

“I hate what you make me,” he said. “But I’d rather be this—unhinged, broken, obsessed—than feel nothing without you.”

You should’ve pushed him away.

You wanted to.

But his lips were already on yours—demanding, aching, full of everything he hadn’t said in days. And God help you, you kissed him back.

Not out of love.

But because it was the only thing that made the silence bearable.

⸻

It wasn’t soft.

It was all fingernails and breathless gasps and clothes dragged off in frustration. He didn’t touch you like he was asking for anything—he touched you like he was claiming you. And you let him.

Because some part of you still needed to be wanted this much. Still craved the danger of him, the way his voice said your name like it was a prayer and a threat all at once.

“Mine,” he growled against your throat.

“Say it.”

You hesitated.

Then: “Yours.”

And it broke you.

⸻

After, you lay tangled in the sheets—half on top of him, your breath slowly returning. Your mind was blank. Your body buzzed. Shame and longing mixed into something you couldn’t name.

He looked at you, eyes calmer now. Sadder.

“Tell me you won’t leave again,” he whispered.

You didn’t answer.

Not yes. Not no.

Just laid your head on his chest and closed your eyes.

Because maybe this wasn’t love.

But it was the closest either of you had ever come.

And that was enough.

For now.

“No One Else” — Part 7: “The Silence Between Us”

Genre: Dark romance, emotional unraveling, obsession

Tone: Cold war tension, quiet heartbreak, dangerous buildup

I have no music for this one😖

⸻

You didn’t answer that night.

And you didn’t follow him when he walked away.

That was the beginning.

The shift.

The unraveling.

⸻

You stopped texting first.

You sat with other people at lunch.

You let your headphones drown him out in the hallway. Walked past him without slowing down. Not in hatred—just in resistance.

You needed to know if you were still a person without him. If your thoughts were your own. If your voice didn’t echo back his name every time you breathed.

He noticed, of course.

He always noticed.

⸻

At first, he didn’t confront you.

Just watched.

From his usual spot near the stairs. Or across the hall. Or from a corner of the convenience store he never used to go to.

He watched you laugh with someone else.

He watched you tuck your phone deeper into your bag.

He watched the space between you grow like a wound.

And then—he started cracking.

⸻

It came out in bursts.

One day, he grabbed your wrist in the hallway. Too tight. Too fast.

“Don’t ignore me,” he said.

You stared at him, calm and deliberate. “You said to choose. I’m choosing.”

He didn’t let go.

His hand was shaking.

You’d never seen him shake before.

“You think walking away makes you free?” he asked. “You think I’ll just disappear?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “Do you want to disappear, Seong-je?”

That made something in him snap.

He let go.

But the next day?

He wasn’t at school.

And neither was the guy you’d been working on the project with.

⸻

You found out through someone else that the kid ended up in the nurse’s office with a busted lip and no explanation.

You didn’t ask.

You knew.

You went home that night with your heart pounding and your stomach twisted.

You wanted space.

But distance from Geum Seong-je didn’t feel like freedom.

It felt like walking through a minefield barefoot.

⸻

He didn’t show up again for three days.

And for three days, you slept with your phone on your pillow, waiting.

Not because you missed him.

But because some part of you knew—when he came back, he wouldn’t come quietly.

And if you weren’t ready, he’d take back everything you were trying to reclaim.

One word at a time.

“No One Else” — Part 6: “The First Lie”

Genre: Dark romance, angst, possessive unraveling

Tone: Paranoia, emotional cracks, trust bleeding out

⸻

It was a small thing.

An after-school tutoring session. A group project. A few classmates staying late to work on a presentation.

And you lied.

You told Seong-je you had to stay late because your teacher needed help organizing paperwork. Harmless. You just didn’t want him hovering. Watching. Breathing down your neck every second.

You needed air.

That was all.

But the moment you walked out of the school gates, and saw him waiting across the street, back against the wall like always—you knew.

He’d known.

And he’d followed.

You walked toward him slowly.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t blink.

Just stared with those cold, burning eyes like you were a puzzle he had just realized was missing a piece.

“Was it worth lying?” he asked.

His voice was quiet. Too quiet. Not calm—contained. Like something was locked behind it.

You opened your mouth. Then closed it.

He took a step closer.

“I saw you,” he said. “With him.”

“Nothing happened.”

“I didn’t ask if something happened.”

There it was. That awful, quiet fury. Worse than yelling. It made the air feel tight. Your ribs ache.

“I just wanted—” You hesitated. “I wanted space.”

His jaw clenched. “From me?”

You nodded. Barely.

That was the first time he truly looked hurt.

Not angry.

Not possessive.

Just… hurt.

Like you’d ripped something out of his chest and stepped on it.

And for a second—just a second—you hated yourself for it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t let me go.”

“I wouldn’t have stopped you,” he said, voice flat. “But I wouldn’t have liked it.”

He stepped closer. Too close.

And this time, you did flinch.

That pause… it shattered him.

“You’re scared of me again,” he said.

You didn’t answer.

He laughed once. Bitter. Broken.

“You said you could handle me. Said you wanted this. That we understood each other.”

“I did. I do,” you said, voice soft.

“Then why lie?”

“Because I’m tired, Seong-je,” you whispered. “I’m tired of always looking over my shoulder. Of knowing if I talk to someone too long, you’ll find a way to make them disappear. I wanted to feel normal for one day.”

His eyes were cold. But not unreadable.

No—this time, they looked… betrayed.

“You’re not normal,” he said. “You stopped being that the second you chose me.”

You swallowed.

And then he said it. The words that changed everything.

“So pick. Right now. Do you want normal, or do you want me?”

It wasn’t a question.

It was a test.

And God help you—

You didn’t answer.

“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.

“No One Else” — Part 4: “What We Become”

Genre: Dark romance, psychological tension, co-dependency

Tone: Intimate, intense, twisted comfort

⸻

It started small.

He stopped asking who you were with—because he already knew.

He never said how. You didn’t ask. You didn’t want to know if he’d installed something, followed you, or convinced someone to watch for him. It was easier not to ask questions when the answers didn’t scare you anymore.

What scared you more was how safe you felt with him watching.

How, after a few weeks, you started looking at your phone and wanting to see his name flash across the screen. Not because of what he’d say—but because of what it meant:

You were his.

And he hadn’t changed. Not really.

He still hated when you laughed too hard at someone else’s joke. Still gave quiet, chilling stares to anyone who got too close. Still showed up unannounced—sometimes with bruises on his knuckles and blood on his sleeve.

But now, you didn’t flinch.

You just grabbed the antiseptic and asked who it was this time.

You weren’t afraid of him anymore. You were afraid of what you were turning into beside him.

⸻

The first time you did something for him—something dark—you didn’t even think.

One of the boys in your class said something crude about you behind your back. It got back to Geum Seong-je fast, but you were faster.

You cornered the guy in the hallway, right where the cameras didn’t reach. Told him to keep your name out of his mouth, or he’d lose more than just a tooth next time.

He laughed.

So you slapped him. Hard.

When Seong-je found out, he didn’t yell. Didn’t threaten.

He just looked at you like you’d finally become what he saw in you all along.

“My girl,” he whispered that night. “Knew you had it in you.”

You should’ve been ashamed.

You weren’t.

⸻

It escalated from there.

You lied for him. Covered for him. Fed his paranoia and his temper. He pulled you deeper every day, and you let him—because each pull came with a touch, a look, a whisper of affection that felt like a drug.

“I’d kill for you,” he told you once, mouth close to your ear.

You didn’t say anything.

But the terrifying part was—you knew now.

You’d kill for him too.

You weren’t in love.

Not really.

This wasn’t love. This was obsession wrapped in warmth. This was being broken by the same hands that held you through the night. This was letting yourself be re-shaped into someone who didn’t cry when things got ugly—but smiled, instead.

And God, it felt so good not to feel small anymore.

Not when he made you feel dangerous.

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

Genre: Angst, dark romance, mutual obsession

Tone: Slow-burning surrender, dangerous comfort

⸻

You should’ve left.

You should’ve screamed. Slammed the door. Blocked his number. Told someone.

Instead, you let him in.

Not just into the building. Into your room. Into your space. Into that quiet, aching part of you that had grown used to his presence—his chaos—his control.

He didn’t smile when you opened the door.

He didn’t need to.

The moment you stepped aside, the silence between you both said everything.

You sat on the floor beside your bed. He followed, without a word. Shoulder to shoulder. Close, but not touching.

It was almost worse than touching.

“You scare me,” you whispered. The words burned your throat.

He didn’t flinch.

“Good,” he said again, voice low. “Then we’re still real.”

You turned your head slowly to look at him. His profile was all shadows and sharp lines. Beautiful in a way that hurt to look at too long.

“You don’t scare me like a stranger does,” you said. “You scare me because… you feel like home sometimes. The kind of home that locks all the doors behind you.”

His eyes shifted toward yours. “I told you before. You make me worse.”

“And I told you,” you murmured, “you make it hard to breathe.”

Neither of you moved. But something between you did. A pull. A surrender. A sick kind of trust.

“Then don’t breathe,” he said. “Not if it means walking away from this.”

You should’ve fought it.

But your hand moved. Found his.

Not because you forgot what he’d done. What he could do. But because no one had ever made you feel so seen. Even when he hated your freedom, even when he tried to cage it—he saw you.

And you were so tired of feeling invisible everywhere else.

“I think I hate you sometimes,” you whispered.

He smiled. “That means it’s real.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. And he finally, finally breathed out like he’d been waiting hours for that single moment.

Like your head there was the missing piece in a puzzle made entirely of jagged edges.

“Promise me something,” you murmured.

His body tensed beneath you.

“Anything.”

“Don’t ever lie to me. Hurt me, break me, scare me—fine. But don’t pretend this is something sweet. Don’t call it love when it’s something darker.”

He was quiet for a long time. Then:

“I won’t lie. This isn’t sweet. It’s twisted. It’s wrong.”

His hand tightened around yours.

“But it’s ours.”

You closed your eyes.

And for the first time in days… you slept.

Wrapped in danger. Wrapped in obsession. Wrapped in the one person you knew would burn down the world just to keep you for himself.

And part of you?

Part of you liked it.

“No One Else” — Part 2

Genre: Angst, emotional tension, psychological push-and-pull

Tone: A bit softer, but still haunting

⸻

It had been three days since the rooftop.

Three days since Geum Seong-je kissed you like he wanted to carve his name into your mouth. Three days since you’d told yourself, for the hundredth time, that this can’t go on.

You ghosted him. Or tried to.

No texts. No after-school meetings. You walked with other people in the hallway. You answered class questions, laughed too much, and avoided stairwells. You told yourself he’d get bored. Move on. Obsession only works if the subject plays along, right?

But on the fourth day, he was waiting.

Not at school. Not even near the campus.

He was outside your apartment building, leaning against the wall like he belonged there. Hoodie up, head low, one AirPod in like he had all the time in the world.

You stopped walking half a block away. Thought about turning around.

But of course—he saw you.

He didn’t wave. Didn’t call out. Just stared, waiting. Like this was inevitable.

You stepped closer.

“How’d you even know where I live?”

He looked at you. That maddening calm. “You said once your bus stop was near the GS25 with the cracked window. I only had to walk around the area.”

You swallowed. “You tracked me down from that?”

He didn’t blink. “You’re not that hard to find when you matter.”

You crossed your arms, hugging yourself without meaning to.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I gave you space,” he said. “Four days of it. Didn’t like it.”

You stared him down. “That wasn’t a gift, Seong-je. That was me trying to figure out how to breathe again.”

He studied your face. Quiet. Thoughtful. Too quiet.

“Did you figure it out?” he asked. “How to breathe without me?”

Your mouth opened, then closed again.

He stepped forward slowly, until there were only inches between you.

“I thought about you every day,” he said, voice like gravel. “Every hour. And not just in the cute, high-school crush kind of way. I imagined knocking on your door and asking who was in your house. I imagined dragging your phone out of your hands to see who you were texting. I imagined hurting anyone who made you laugh like you used to laugh with me.”

You flinched.

He saw it. And didn’t back down.

“I’m not the good guy,” he said. “I don’t want to be.”

“Then what do you want?” you whispered.

His hand moved—slow, deliberate—and landed over your heart. Not touching skin. Just hovering.

“This,” he said. “Yours. Mine. I don’t care how ugly it is, I just want it beating where I can see it.”

You looked away. Voice shaking.

“You can’t control me forever.”

“I don’t need forever,” he said. “I just need right now.”

He leaned in again. Not for a kiss. For a breath. As if breathing the same air kept you tethered.

You stood still. Not forgiving. Not forgetting.

Just… stuck.

Because love shouldn’t feel like drowning.

But sometimes obsession wears the same face.

“No One Else”

Pairing: Geum Seong-je x Reader

Genre: Angst, possessiveness, obsession, unresolved tension

Setting: Post-Class 2 events, dark school rooftops and quiet apartments

⸻

You shoved his hand off your wrist for the third time that night.

“Geum Seong-je,” you snapped. “You’re not my boyfriend. You don’t get to act like this.”

His eyes flickered. Not wide, not surprised—but focused. Too focused. Like a lion watching prey try to limp away.

“Don’t call me by my full name like that,” he said, stepping forward. His voice wasn’t loud, but it tightened the air between you.

“Why not? That’s your name, isn’t it? Or should I start calling you what people actually say behind your back?”

He raised a brow. “You think I care what people say?”

“You care when I say it.”

That shut him up, for a beat. And that silence felt more dangerous than any insult he could throw.

You folded your arms, already regretting coming up to the rooftop with him. He’d cornered you at the stairwell after your last class, asking—no, demanding—a word. Always when no one else was around. Always when it would be easier to just nod and let him have his say.

You should’ve said no.

“You were with him again,” Seong-je said finally, his voice low. “You know who I mean.”

You blinked. “Are you seriously bringing this up again? He’s a friend. A normal friend.”

“Normal? You think that guy’s not waiting for you to give him one smile and climb into his lap?”

You stepped back. “You’re out of line.”

He followed, slow and deliberate. “Maybe. But I’m not wrong.”

“Even if you’re not, it doesn’t matter. You don’t get to dictate who I hang out with. You don’t own me.”

That word. Own.

His face twitched. Not angry. Not yet. Just… strained. Tense in that way he got when he was trying not to lose control.

“I don’t want to own you,” he said. But his eyes said otherwise. “I just want you to understand. I’m the one who sees you for who you are. Not them. Not that guy. He doesn’t know how your voice sounds when you’re lying. I do.”

You stared at him, arms still crossed. “That’s not love, Seong-je. That’s surveillance.”

He laughed. Just once. Sharp, bitter.

“Love?” he repeated. “You think what you make me feel is love?”

You paused. The rooftop air felt colder suddenly. And quieter. His voice dropped to a near whisper.

“I don’t sleep some nights,” he said. “Not because of guilt. I don’t have much of that left. But because I can’t stop thinking about you. What you’re doing. Who you’re smiling at. If you’re still thinking about me or if you’ve finally decided I’m just another freak with a control problem.”

You didn’t speak. Because he wasn’t wrong. You had thought that. Maybe still did.

“But then you do something stupid,” he continued. “Like laugh too loud in the hallway. Or wear something that makes every guy turn his head. And I realize—they don’t get to see you like that. They don’t get that part of you. Only I do.”

You exhaled slowly. “That’s not love either. That’s obsession.”

He stepped closer again, so close you could smell the faint trace of smoke and mint he always carried. Not cologne—something darker. More dangerous.

“I don’t care what you call it,” he said. “As long as it keeps you away from him.”

You glared at him. “You think I’ll drop my friends just because you said so?”

He leaned in, voice quiet enough that you could feel it in your spine.

“I think you already have. At least a little. Because you’re still here. Because even when I scare the hell out of you… you stay.”

He was right. And that terrified you more than anything.

Because you had a million chances to walk away from Geum Seong-je. From his temper, from the way he made everything a war, from the way his gaze felt like it could skin people alive—but you didn’t.

Maybe because part of you liked how intense he got. How he looked at you like you were the only real thing in a world full of pawns and trash. Maybe you liked being the one exception.

But at what cost?

“You need help,” you whispered.

His head tilted, eyes unreadable. “You make me worse. You know that, right?”

You nodded, slowly. “Yeah. And you make it really hard to breathe sometimes.”

He looked at you for a long time. No smirk. No anger. Just a quiet, razor-sharp stare.

“Good,” he said. “Then we’re even.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t sweet.

It was a claim.

Possessive. Bruising. A kiss like a warning.

You didn’t kiss back. But you didn’t push him away, either.

And when he pulled back, his hand still wrapped around your wrist, you realized he wasn’t going to let go.

Not tonight. Maybe not ever.