“Dirty Little Secret”

“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.

“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.

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

“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.

-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

I love your whc fics so much!! and I love baekjin 🤗 could i request a baekjin x reader headcanon like you did with seonje?

Yessss!!!! And thank you for requesting!!!!

Na Baek Jin Headcanons

——————-

🌸 Sweet & Soft Na Baek-jin Headcanons

1. Quiet protector energy.

He’s not loud about how much he cares, but he’s always watching from a distance. You’ll find him leaning against a wall nearby, headphones on, eyes scanning for trouble. If someone even looks at you the wrong way, he narrows his eyes, and they back off fast.

2. The type to memorize your schedule.

He won’t admit it, but he knows exactly what time you have lunch, what route you take to class, and where you like to hang out when you need quiet. If you’re ever missing, he notices within five minutes.

3. Acts cold around others but melts when it’s just you.

Around his crew, he’s all blank expressions and sharp words. But with you? He softens. Pulls you into his hoodie. Tucks your hair behind your ear. Hums a tune while your head rests on his chest.

4. Gives you his jacket without a word.

You shiver once, and he shrugs off his jacket like it’s nothing, tossing it over your shoulders. No eye contact. Just a quiet: “Wear it.” His scent lingers on the collar and makes you dizzy in the best way.

5. Secretly writes music about you.

He has a locked folder in his phone with beats he made while thinking of you — sometimes dark and brooding, sometimes soft and slow. You have no idea, but he listens to them late at night when he misses you too much to sleep.

⸻

🖤 Obsessive/Intense Na Baek-jin Headcanons

1. He doesn’t trust people around you.

Even if they’re being friendly, he watches every interaction like a hawk. If anyone flirts with you, his hand clenches at his side. He won’t start a fight — not unless you’re hurt — but he’ll remember. And he’ll handle it later.

2. Needs to know where you are — always.

He doesn’t blow up your phone, but he expects you to text when you get home. If you don’t, he shows up. Calm, serious, standing outside your door like: “Why didn’t you tell me you were safe?” It’s not a question — it’s an accusation wrapped in worry.

3. Keeps little pieces of you.

That broken hair clip you threw away? He has it. Your old scarf? Still in his drawer. They’re like tokens — reminders that you’re real, that you’re his. He’d never tell you, but they matter more to him than his own stuff.

4. Gets possessive when you pull away.

If you try to create space — emotionally or physically — he goes still. Withdrawn. But the storm behind his eyes brews silently. He doesn’t beg, but he’ll back you into a corner emotionally with quiet intensity, whispering: “I don’t know how to breathe without you.”

5. Has a dangerous calm when he’s jealous.

He doesn’t explode. He waits. Observes. Then he finds quiet ways to isolate the person — pushes them out of your life with subtle pressure, until you only see him. And he’ll act like it’s coincidence.

“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.

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.”

“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.