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

“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.

“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.

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.

“Glass Cage: Part 4 – Stay With Me”

Geum Seong-je x fem!reader | dark romance, obsession, jealousy, emotional intensity, psychological intensity, first time smut (softly written but obsessive), twisted proposal

⸻

The morning after you broke into his bed, you wake to warmth.

The sun filters through half-open curtains. His scent lingers everywhere — in the sheets, the pillows, the heavy comforter wrapped around your waist. You’re still tucked into his chest, your bare legs tangled with his under the covers.

And he’s already awake.

His hand strokes your back slowly, fingertips tracing the curve of your spine under the shirt you stole from his drawer the night before. It’s far too big for you. He hasn’t said anything about that yet.

You breathe in the moment. Safe. Claimed.

Then his voice cuts through the silence.

“You’re not sleeping downstairs again.”

Your eyes flutter open.

“What?”

“I said you’re staying here,” he repeats, low and certain. “With me.”

You look up at him.

His expression is unreadable, but his arms are locked around you like steel. Like you’re some priceless thing someone might come and take.

“I thought you liked watching me sleep from the chair,” you tease, smiling softly.

His jaw ticks.

“I like knowing you can’t disappear.”

Something about the way he says it — calm, controlled, laced with fear — makes your throat tighten.

You press your palm flat against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He nods.

But his eyes don’t soften.

⸻

That afternoon, you hear a car.

You’re in the kitchen with him — barefoot, wearing his shirt and nothing else, sitting on the counter as he slices fruit in that quiet, focused way of his.

Then the gravel outside crunches under tires.

You freeze.

His hand stops mid-slice.

No one’s supposed to come here. No one even knows about this place. Not friends. Not enemies. Not ghosts from his past.

Then the knock.

Three sharp raps at the front door.

You see it happen behind his eyes — that switch. The one where his humanity gets buried under instinct. He sets the knife down and steps away from you.

“Stay here,” he says, voice colder than you’ve ever heard it.

“Seong-je—”

“I said stay.”

Then he disappears down the hall.

You wait maybe ten seconds before slipping off the counter and creeping to the corner — just far enough to see without being seen.

He opens the door.

It’s a man. Mid-thirties. Tall. Dressed like a courier, but wrong. Too clean. Too quiet.

“I was told this property was for sale—” the man begins.

Seong-je doesn’t let him finish.

The door slams.

Then a click.

The lock.

The deadbolt.

Then silence.

You duck back just as he comes striding down the hall again. When he turns the corner and sees you standing there, bare and nervous in his shirt, his whole expression breaks.

Not in anger.

But in pure, animal fear.

“You weren’t supposed to come out,” he mutters.

He grabs you — not hard, but fast. Hauls you against his chest and buries his face in your hair.

“I thought maybe you’d vanish,” he whispers.

“Why would I—”

“Because things that don’t belong in this world get taken back.”

Your breath catches.

You don’t know who that man was.

But you know Seong-je would burn this entire forest down before letting anyone near you.

⸻

That night, you don’t ask permission.

You slip into his bed before he even gets there. Curl under the covers, facing the spot where he sleeps, wearing nothing but the scent of him on your skin.

When he walks in and sees you waiting, something in him shatters.

He doesn’t say a word.

He locks the door. Peels his shirt off slowly. Slides into bed behind you.

His hand runs down your arm, then over your hip, then lower — but not rushed. Not greedy. He touches you like he owns you, but worships you all the same.

“You’re mine,” he breathes into your neck.

You whisper it back. “Yours.”

You guide his hand to your thighs. Let him feel how much you want him. Let him know the hunger is mutual.

The kiss he gives you then is not gentle.

It’s permanent.

⸻

Later, you lie on his chest, skin warm and flushed, legs tangled under the covers.

He watches you with heavy eyes, one hand resting on the curve of your waist like a lock.

You whisper:

“I never want to sleep alone again.”

He’s quiet.

Then he nods.

And pulls you tighter.

“No one’s taking you from this bed,” he murmurs. “Not ever again.”

——-

You’re alone in his room when you find it.

He went out to the shed — something about checking the perimeter, tightening the security.

“You’ll be safe here,” he told you before he left, kissing your forehead.

But you weren’t looking for escape.

You were looking for more of him.

The drawer by his bed is usually locked. But tonight it’s not.

Inside: a stack of old photographs. Black-and-white, a little wrinkled.

You pick one up carefully.

It’s a young boy. Sharp eyes, bruised cheek. Standing beside a woman who’s smiling through sadness. Her arm wrapped around him like she’s trying to protect him from the world — and failing.

You know it’s him.

His mother. The pain that shaped him.

Then you find the letter.

Cracked at the edges, folded and re-folded. The ink smudged.

It’s from her.

Just a few lines.

You’re not like him, Seong-je.

You’re not a monster.

Don’t let them make you one.

Your chest tightens.

You hear the door open behind you.

He sees the photo in your hand — the letter.

And he freezes.

⸻

“You weren’t supposed to read that,” he says quietly.

You turn to face him.

“I wanted to understand you.”

He doesn’t come closer. His jaw is clenched. Hands twitching at his sides.

“I’m not a good man,” he murmurs. “I’m just the one who made you love your cage.”

You shake your head, stepping toward him.

“No. You’re the only one who ever saw me.”

His throat works. You’re in front of him now. Close. The photo slips from your hand, floating to the floor between your bare feet.

You reach up.

Touch his jaw. His cheekbone. The scar under his lip.

“I want all of you,” you whisper. “Even the parts you think are unlovable.”

And just like that — he snaps.

⸻

He kisses you hard. Desperate. Like he’s drowning and you’re the air.

You wrap your arms around his neck, his body pressing you back onto the bed. His weight, his heat, his need surrounds you. Clothes come off in frantic pieces, tossed to the floor without care.

You gasp when his hands slide over your skin — slow now, reverent, like he’s touching something holy.

His voice is rough.

“I’ll be gentle.”

You pull him closer. “Don’t be.”

Eyes lock.

Then he sinks into you.

And the world disappears.

⸻

It’s not soft — not entirely.

It’s slow. Intense. His hand gripping yours above your head, his body flush with yours like he’s trying to fuse your hearts. He groans your name like a curse and a prayer, over and over again.

Every movement says:

Mine. Mine. Mine.

And your answer is always the same:

Yes. Yours. Always.

You come undone with his name on your lips.

He follows — chest pressed to yours, burying himself so deep inside you it feels like he could never leave.

Afterward, he doesn’t let you go.

Not for a second.

⸻

Hours later, still naked under the covers, his hand strokes lazy patterns on your back. Your body is still sore in the best way — used, cherished, claimed.

Then he says it.

“I’m going to make you my wife.”

Your breath catches.

He’s not looking at you. Just staring up at the ceiling like he’s making a quiet promise to the sky.

“I won’t ask,” he says. “Because I won’t accept no.”

You stare at him.

“You’re serious.”

He turns his head.

Those eyes — black fire, unwavering.

“You think I’d let anyone else take care of you?” he asks, voice low. “You think I’d let someone walk you down an aisle, hand you over like you’re a gift?”

He shakes his head.

“I’ll build the altar. I’ll say the words. And you’ll wear the ring while I keep you locked in the only place you’re safe — right next to me.”

Your pulse is wild.

And still — there’s no fear.

Just heat.

Love.

Obsession.

“Yes,” you whisper. “I’ll be yours.”

His fingers tangle in your hair. He kisses you again — slower now, but just as possessive.

“You already are.”

Omgg heyyyy!!. Sry I havent posted in a while it’s summer and ive been busy🤪🤪🤪🤪anyway here’s a short oneshot.

——

“The Last Cigarette”

Genre: Angst / Slice of Life

Characters: Geum Seong-je x fem!Reader

⸻

The air behind the convenience store was thick with smoke and silence.

Geum Seong-je leaned against the concrete wall, one hand buried in his pocket, the other lazily holding a cigarette. He didn’t usually smoke during school hours—it made him look like he cared too much. But today was different.

You watched him from the corner of the alley, your presence deliberate but unspoken. He noticed you. Of course he did. He always did.

“You follow me again,” he muttered without looking. “I should start charging you.”

You walked closer, not bothering to deny it. He had a way of dragging people in, even when he told them to stay away. Especially when he told them to stay away.

“I heard about what happened with Banseok High,” you said quietly.

“Tch.” He flicked ash to the ground, jaw tight. “People talk too much.”

You leaned against the wall beside him, close but not touching. He didn’t move away. That counted for something.

“Why do you keep doing this?” you asked.

He finally turned to look at you, eyes sharp but tired—always tired. “Doing what?”

“Picking fights. Getting yourself nearly killed. Pretending like none of it matters.”

There was a long pause. The wind carried the scent of burnt tobacco and blood not yet washed off his knuckles.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said flatly.

You tilted your head. “Liar.”

A humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You think you know me?”

“I think I know enough.” You nodded at the cigarette. “You only smoke when something’s eating at you.”

He didn’t deny it. Just looked away again, gaze distant, as if he could see every mistake he’d ever made written in the cracks of the pavement.

“You don’t have to keep doing this alone, Seong-je.”

Those words hit harder than any punch he’d taken. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, but something shifted. His hand, still holding the cigarette, trembled just slightly before he crushed it under his shoe.

Then he turned to you, really turned to you—eyes not cold, but hollow.

“Don’t say things like that,” he said. “Not to someone like me.”

You stepped closer, and this time, he didn’t flinch when you touched his hand.

“Maybe it’s time someone did.”

The silence after your words hung heavy, like the static before a storm.

Geum Seong-je looked at your hand on his, his fingers tense like a spring ready to snap. You didn’t move. You let him decide.

He could’ve walked away. Should’ve. It would’ve been easier.

Instead, his fingers curled, slowly, uncertainly, around yours.

It was subtle—barely a grip, barely anything at all—but to him, it felt like confession. Like surrender.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, so quietly it could’ve been the wind.

You met his eyes. “You don’t have to know everything. Just don’t push me away.”

He stared at you—really stared. As if he was searching for the trick, the weakness, the betrayal he was sure had to be hiding somewhere behind your kindness. But all he found was the same calm defiance that had always drawn him in.

His fingers tightened just slightly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

That made him scoff. “I’m not like those soft guys you probably like. I’ve got blood on my hands. I’ve done shit that doesn’t wash off.”

You stepped closer, now chest to chest. “So have I. Maybe not like you, but… we’ve all got scars. Doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to feel something good.”

He looked away again, jaw clenched. But he didn’t let go.

“You’re not scared of me?”

You shook your head. “I’m scared of losing you before you ever let yourself be known.”

That broke something in him. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just the faintest crack in the armor—enough to let the light in.

He lowered his head, resting his forehead against yours, breath warm and uneven.

“You make me want things I don’t think I deserve.”

You reached up, gently brushing your fingers against the side of his face, over a forming bruise. “Then let me give them to you anyway.”

For a moment, the world narrowed to the space between you.

Then, slowly, carefully—as if afraid it would all shatter—Seong-je tilted his head and pressed his lips to yours.

It wasn’t practiced. It wasn’t polished. But it was real. Raw. Honest.

And in that kiss, Geum Seong-je didn’t feel like a fighter or a delinquent or a shadow in someone else’s story.

He just felt human.

-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

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

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

“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.

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