C4shm0neyxxx - C4shm0neyx

CAN YOU PLEEEAAAASE WRITE A NA BAEKJIN X FEM!READER NSFW ONESHOT OR SERIES EVEN PLSS 😔🤲🏻

“Control”

Pairing: Na Baek Jin x fem!reader

Genre: NSFW / Smut, Emotional Intimacy, Slight Power Play, Soft Aftercare

Setting: His apartment, late at night after a long day

(I’ve had this in my drafts also😭)

⸻

You were already breathless when Baek Jin pressed you against the door of his apartment, your back hitting the wood as his lips claimed yours with quiet urgency.

The moment the door clicked shut, something shifted.

His grip on your waist tightened, jaw flexing as he pulled back just enough to look at you — eyes dark, sharp with intent.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that in public,” he said lowly, voice rough against your ear.

You smirked, despite the way your heart was thundering. “Like what?”

“Like you want me to lose control.”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer — his mouth was back on yours, hot and consuming, his hands already beneath your shirt. He peeled it off slowly, letting his fingers trail up your sides like he was memorizing every inch of you.

Every move was precise, almost studied — the way he touched you like he was in command, not just of your body, but of himself. Until you looked at him with that softness in your eyes, and the control cracked.

He pushed you gently but firmly toward the bedroom, never breaking eye contact. You laid back across the sheets, propped on your elbows, watching as he undressed with a slow deliberateness that made your thighs press together.

When he crawled over you, his hands planted firm beside your head, his expression changed — colder, hungrier.

“You drive me insane,” he muttered, lips brushing your jaw. “I don’t show it. But I think about you… constantly.”

“Then show me,” you whispered.

That was all it took.

His mouth claimed your neck, then your chest, his hands sliding under your thighs to pull you closer. You gasped when his fingers brushed over your soaked panties, and he smirked against your skin.

“So wet already?” he murmured, pushing them aside.

Two fingers slipped in easily, his thumb circling your clit while his mouth returned to your chest. You moaned, arching into him, fingers gripping the sheets.

“Baek Jin—” you breathed, your voice cracking slightly.

He glanced up, eyes half-lidded. “Say it again.”

“Baek Jin.”

He cursed under his breath and pulled away just enough to rid you of your underwear and align himself. He didn’t rush — just eased in slow, watching your expression like it was the only thing he cared about in the world.

You gasped, clinging to him as he filled you completely.

He groaned low in his throat, voice strained. “You feel too good. Fuck…”

His thrusts started deep and slow — steady, controlled, each one hitting just the right spot. You wrapped your legs around his waist, nails digging into his back as the pace built, your moans echoing into the night.

It wasn’t just sex — not with him.

It was the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t watching. The way his lips would soften against your shoulder mid-thrust. The way he whispered, “Mine,” like a secret no one else was meant to hear.

Your orgasm hit fast and hard, your body trembling beneath him, back arching off the bed as you cried out his name. He held you through it, slowing only slightly before chasing his own release with low, breathless groans.

When he came, it was with his forehead pressed to yours, hands locked around your wrists like he needed to anchor himself to you.

The silence after was heavy with heat and heartbeats.

He rolled off you, but didn’t let go — pulling you into his chest, holding you close like he was afraid you’d disappear.

You nuzzled into his neck, smiling softly.

“Still in control?” you teased, voice hoarse.

Baek Jin chuckled — a rare, genuine sound. “Not even close.”

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.

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

“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.

“Glass Cage: Part II– A Breath of Air”

Geum Seong-je x fem!reader | dark romance, psychological themes, obsession, isolation

⸻

It starts in the afternoon.

You’re lying on the couch, curled under a thick cashmere blanket, flipping through a book he left you on the end table. Something about art — classical oil paintings, the kind with cherubs and bleeding saints. It’s beautiful, but the words are starting to blur.

You can hear him upstairs. The faint sound of a faucet running, a drawer closing.

You look toward the window.

Outside, the sun filters through the trees like golden mist. The pines sway gently. It’s almost too beautiful — almost cruel. The way the world keeps turning out there while you remain inside, pristine and untouched.

You shift under the blanket.

Then you call out, voice soft but clear:

“Seong-je.”

A pause upstairs.

Then the slow rhythm of his footsteps on the hardwood as he descends. He appears in the doorway, dressed in black — always black — sleeves pushed up, hands clean, eyes slightly narrowed.

“You okay?” he asks immediately, scanning you.

You nod. “I want something.”

His gaze sharpens.

You sit up, folding your hands in your lap like a princess about to make a very gentle demand. “I want to go outside. Just a little.”

He stares at you.

Not angry. Not surprised. Just still.

Like a hunter waiting for movement.

“I’ve been good,” you add, your voice small. “I haven’t tried to leave. I haven’t fought you. I just… I miss the wind.”

Silence.

He steps toward you slowly, until he’s standing right in front of the couch. He kneels in front of you again — just like he did that morning with the strawberries — and looks up.

“Outside means risk,” he says flatly.

“But you said no one would find me here.”

“They won’t.”

“Then why can’t I breathe fresh air?”

You see it then — the tiniest flicker of panic in his eyes. A crack in the mask.

“I don’t want anything touching you,” he mutters. “Not even the world.”

Your heart tightens.

That should scare you. It did, weeks ago.

But now?

Now it feels like devotion.

You place your hands gently on either side of his face. His skin is warm under your palms. “I’ll stay close. I promise.”

He doesn’t speak for a long time.

Then, finally — with a deep breath and a reluctant nod — he rises.

“Five minutes.”

⸻

The outside world smells like cold pine and damp earth.

You step onto the back porch, bare feet pressing into the smooth, worn wood. There’s a thick silence in the trees, like everything is holding its breath. The forest wraps around the house like a fortress, wild and endless. Untouchable.

You breathe in. Eyes closed. Head tilted slightly toward the sun.

It’s bliss.

You don’t realize how long it’s been since you felt sunlight on your skin — like the house was swallowing time and space.

Seong-je stands close behind you. Too close.

His hand is wrapped loosely around your wrist — not gripping, not pulling, just there. A tether. A warning.

“You’re tense,” you murmur.

“I’m waiting for you to run.”

You look over your shoulder at him.

“I’m not running,” you say. “I’m with you.”

His jaw tightens slightly, but his grip eases.

You take one slow step into the grass, still wet with dew even in the afternoon. He doesn’t stop you. Just follows, silent and watchful.

Two steps. Then three.

You kneel near a patch of violets blooming beneath a tree. They’re small, trembling in the breeze.

He crouches beside you, not saying a word.

You pluck a flower and hold it out to him.

“I’d come back, even if I did run,” you say softly. “I’d miss you too much.”

His throat bobs.

“You don’t mean that,” he says.

“I do.”

You reach out and slide the violet behind his ear, pushing his hair back gently.

He lets you.

There’s a long silence.

Then, quietly, he says, “You’ve changed.”

You look up at him, kneeling in front of you in the grass, with a flower tucked in his dark hair and his eyes full of something raw and disbelieving.

“No,” you say. “I’ve just accepted it.”

He leans in.

The kiss is soft. Not hungry. Not violent.

Just a slow press of lips — breath shared between two people who shouldn’t feel this close, but do.

You exhale into his mouth.

And for the first time, he holds you like someone who’s afraid of losing you.

⸻

Later that night, you’re back in the basement room — but you asked to be. It feels like yours now. Like your little kingdom below the world.

He sits in the chair again, arms folded, watching you.

You curl up on the bed, fingers laced under your cheek, and smile at him.

“Can I go out again tomorrow?” you ask, teasing.

A pause.

“You’ll stay where I can see you,” he says.

“Always.”

His lips twitch — the closest thing to a smile he ever shows.

“You were never really a prisoner, you know,” he says.

You hum.

“Then why do you keep me down here?”

His gaze darkens, slow and steady.

“Because if the world sees you,” he murmurs, “it’ll want to take you from me.”

You close your eyes.

Let it.

You know he’ll never let it win.

There was something about him you thought about in the morning you’d surely ask him later…..

—————

You ask him on a rainy night.

It’s late. The house is quiet, except for the sound of water slipping down the windows and the fire crackling in the hearth upstairs.

You’re curled up on the floor in front of it, your head in his lap, legs tucked beneath a thick blanket. His fingers stroke your hair lazily, and for a while, neither of you speaks.

But your mind drifts. It always does when you’re warm and safe and soft in his hold. Drifting through all the things he never says.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmur.

He doesn’t answer immediately. His hand stills for a beat — then continues stroking.

“You can ask,” he says. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

You tilt your head, looking up at him.

“Why are you like this?” you ask softly.

He blinks.

The question hangs between you, heavy and strange. His eyes sharpen. Not angry — just cautious.

“Like what?”

“Like…” You pause. “Like someone who thinks they can’t be loved unless they steal it.”

Silence.

You sit up, blanket slipping off your shoulders. The firelight flickers across his face — casting shadows into the hollows of his cheekbones.

“Who hurt you, Seong-je?”

His eyes drop to the fire. You think he won’t answer.

Then:

“My father used to beat my mother until her face was unrecognizable.”

Your breath catches.

He says it plainly. No emotion. Like it’s just a fact — like telling you the weather.

“And when she cried too loud, he’d turn on me.” He leans back against the couch, eyes distant. “Said real men don’t whimper. Said I needed to learn what the world was really like.”

You stay silent.

Not out of fear. But out of respect. This is sacred ground — the pieces of him no one was ever supposed to see.

“I learned early,” he says. “You take what you want. Or someone else will.”

You nod slowly, reaching for his hand.

“And the gang?” you ask. “The fights?”

He exhales through his nose. “That came after. When she died, there was no reason to pretend I could be anything other than what he made me. So I turned it into armor.”

He looks at you then. Really looks.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says, low. “You shouldn’t love me.”

You slide your fingers through his.

“But I do.”

He laughs once. Bitter. “You’re sick.”

You smile softly. “You made me that way.”

He stares at you. Then, suddenly — he pulls you into his lap. One arm tight around your waist, the other pressing your head into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. Unsteady.

He’s scared.

Not of the world. Not of pain. But of you. Of this feeling he can’t name.

“I was going to keep you quiet forever,” he murmurs. “Like a song no one else could hear.”

You tilt your face up.

“I don’t need the world,” you whisper. “I only need you.”

He leans in.

And this time, the kiss isn’t soft. It’s desperate. Deep. His hands are rough on your waist, pulling you closer, like he wants to bury you in his body just to keep you his.

He kisses like someone who’s been starving his whole life.

And for the first time, you understand:

He never wanted a girl.

He wanted a reason to stay human.

And you became it.

————-

I was gonna end it at where she was gonna ask him something but I decided to add it in for y’all😈

Guys I don’t know what got write. I haven’t written in almost a week!!!!😫😫😫

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 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.

HEY GURL, can you write a story with geum seong je x reader, where the girl is the complete opposite of him, she is sweet, smiling, kind, does not smoke or drink and is a not very sociable girl and does not like to go out. They could meet at a party where she was forced by her friends, where she will only drink a cherry coke and read bluelock scans (don't judge) Afterwards I don't have too many ideas but it could be a romance where she is innocent (like +++) and will be a kind of entertainment for seong je. Tysm (your biggest reader)

He's so fine shibal

“Cherry Coke & Cigarettes”

Pairing: Geum Seong-je x Innocent!Reader

You never wanted to come to this party.

You made it very clear to your friends—parties weren’t your thing. The music was too loud, the people too fake, and the smell of alcohol and weed made your head spin. But here you were, pressed into a corner of someone’s overpriced rooftop apartment, sipping Cherry Coke from a red solo cup and pretending not to exist.

The only thing keeping you sane was the Blue Lock chapter you were rereading on your phone, thumb swiping slowly while chaos swirled around you.

“Yo,” someone drawled beside you, voice low and smooth, like a cigarette dragged too slow.

You didn’t look up at first, assuming he wasn’t talking to you. Nobody here ever did.

“Cherry Coke?” the voice asked again, closer now. You raised your head.

And there he was. Geum Seong-je. Rumored gang leader. Smoky eyes, lazy smirk, tattoos peeking beneath his sleeves. He looked like every bad decision you avoided on purpose. The kind of guy whose stare alone could unravel someone like you.

You blinked at him. “…Yeah?”

He cocked his head, eyes scanning you like you were a puzzle he hadn’t solved yet. “You’re the only one here not getting wasted or sucking face with someone dumb.”

“I didn’t want to be here,” you replied honestly.

That made him grin, slow and wolfish. “Neither did I. But now I kinda do.”

Your cheeks burned. You looked down quickly, pretending to scroll, trying to steady your voice. “You should probably talk to someone else. I’m not very fun.”

“I don’t like fun girls,” he said, exhaling smoke through his nose. “They’re boring.”

You glanced up. “I’m the definition of boring.”

“Nah,” Seong-je said, stepping closer. “You’re entertaining in a different way.”

He plucked the phone from your hand and squinted at the screen. “Blue Lock? Seriously?”

“It’s good,” you mumbled, trying to take your phone back. He didn’t let go.

“I don’t read, but if it gets you that focused… maybe I should.”

You met his gaze then, and it felt like falling. Sharp eyes, but something behind them—curiosity, maybe. Or hunger.

“You shouldn’t flirt with girls like me,” you whispered.

He leaned in, voice a low purr. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll believe it.”

For a moment, the smirk faltered.

Then he handed your phone back and stepped even closer, cherry smoke mixing with your soda scent. “Good. Believe it.”

——-

There will be a part 2 later😜😜

“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.