Hi♡ Welcome to my page. I love to read stories/fanfics, and decided to begin writing again. I hope you enjoy what I put out there. Do enjoy☺
A little about me to sate the mind: I'm 24-year-old girlie, who loves to read, listen to music and be myself♡
♧ Short Non!mc drabbles:
•°▪︎ Caleb x nonmc (angst)
•°▪︎ Zayne li x nonmc (angst)
•°▪︎ Rafayel Qi x nonmc (fluff)
•°▪︎ Sylus Qin x nonmc (angst/no comfort) part 2
•°▪︎ Sylus Qin x nonmc (part 2 - crack ending)
•°▪︎ Rafayel Qi x nonmc (angst/little comfort)
•°▪︎ Xavier x nonmc (coming soon)
~•♡ Zayne Li x wife!reader (fluff)
~•♡ Short Sylus imagine (high school au/ teen preg)
~•♡ (coming soon)
◇ ° • Sukuna drabbles #1
Mini Series :
♧ ° • The Colonel broke my heart : (ongoing)
>> Part One
>> Part Two
♤ ° • Rafayel's only beloved : (ongoing)
>> Part One
>> Part Two
>> Part Three
>> Part Four
>> Part Five
Please feel free to request any short imagine or story idea. I'd love to give a try at writing. Also, I will like to write dark content on LADS, JJK and mabye other fandoms (that I know of.)
I just finished reading your "sex addict" Baek-jeong headcanons and I absolutely loved them!!!
I'd love to request the same kind of headcanons for Hwa-jin from Teach You a Lesson, because I feel like he'd be just as much of a pervert in private.
Na Hwa-jin | Addict
Summary: Behind the formidable facade of the ERPB inspector lies a man with an insatiable addiction to you.
Warnings: +18, smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, masturbation, sub/dom dynamics, jealousy, overstimulation, car sex, risk of getting caught.
Note: English is not my first language so feel free to tell me if there are any mistakes.
Na Hwa-jin is a sex addict.
If you’re waiting for him in his car while he finishes a ERPB meeting, he won't wait until you get home. He’ll slide into the back seat, hit the child locks and order you to climb into the back. As you’re moving over, he’ll ruck up your dress, pull you onto his lap and fuck you right then and there in the underground parking garage. He’s utterly fascinated by the adrenaline rush of taking you inside his car while his colleagues are still working on the floors above.
Na Hwa-jin is a sex addict.
If you’re working in his office, his tread is so silent you’ll never hear him coming. You’ll only feel the shadow of his broad shoulders looming over you before his large hands cup your chin to tilt your head back. He’ll kiss you with a deep intensity while sliding a hand between your thighs to check if you are wet and ready for him. If you aren't, he will fucks you with his fingers until you’re whimpering over his paperwork before he even undoes his belt.
Na Hwa-jin is a sex addict.
When he steps out of the shower wearing only his trousers with a towel slung over his shoulders, his eyes will immediately search the house for you. If he finds you folding laundry or making the bed, he’ll grab your arm in a firm grip and haul you onto the mattress. He’ll hover over you, water droplets falling from his hair onto your chest, assuring you in that low voice that there is nothing on his schedule more urgent than fucking you at this exact second.
Na Hwa-jin is a sex addict.
If he senses you being distant or catching you on the phone for too long with someone from work, his possessive side will take total control. Without letting you hang up the call, he will make you sit on the edge of the bed and drop to his knees between your legs. There will be no warnings and no foreplay: he’ll spread you open with both hands and eat you out with an insatiable hunger. He won't let you close your legs. He’ll grip your hips with brute force until you’re trembling violently over his lips, making sure your attention is 100% back on him.
Na Hwa-jin is a sex addict.
If you’re alone at a high-end restaurant and he notices you wearing stockings, he’ll turn dangerous beneath the table. He’ll slide his hand discreetly up your thigh to touch you in secret while casually maintaining a serious conversation about educational policy with the other guests. He takes an almost sick pleasure in watching you struggle to keep your composure while his fingers work you just inches away from everyone else.
Na Hwa-jin is a sex addict.
If you try to do a stretch routine on the bedroom floor, he will take it as a direct invitation. He will pin you down before you can even get up, trapping both your wrists over your head with just one of his massive hands. He will look down at you with that smirk he rarely shows in public, telling you that the best way to stretch your muscles is by letting him use your body as he pleases for the next hour.
Na Hwa-jin is a sex addict.
If he sees you exhausted after a long day and you go to bed early, he won't wait for you to fall asleep. He’ll slide into bed completely naked, press his chest flush against your back and begin tracing slow circles over your stomach. He’ll whisper in your ear to just relax and not lift a finger… that he’ll handle everything. He’ll shift you into prone bone, spread your legs and fuck you with a deep rhythm that keeps you floating right between sleep and ecstasy for nearly an hour.
Na Hwa-jin is a sex addict.
When night falls, all precautions disappear. The thought of coming deep inside you is the only thing that satisfies his fixation with breeding you. He’ll finish deep within you, pinning you tight against his body and staying completely still for minutes just to feel your internal spasms around him. He’ll hold your waist with an unyielding grip, pressing slow kisses to your neck and feeling completely satisfied knowing he’s filled you up completely.
Na Hwa-jin is a sex addict.
His mind is cold and calculating. But when it comes to you, all of his discipline is funneled directly into his insatiable addiction to you. It doesn't matter where you are or what time it is: if Na Hwa-jin decides he needs you, he will do whatever it takes until he has you completely at his mercy.
loosely inspired by true events and nonmc's personality is a little like my own self, because I'm projecting.
There was always a strange feeling around her. Not loud. Not deliberate. Just, inevitable.
People remembered her after one conversation. Professors did. Directors did. Department heads knew her by name before she ever knocked on their office doors. She was clever without trying to prove it, warm without performing it, and somehow carried herself like she'd been alive for centuries.
She laughed often. The world laughed with her.
No one knew why rooms subtly rearranged themselves around her, Least of all her.
She was, by every definition, an extra.
Not the Hunter.
Not the chosen one.
Not the girl destiny had written poems for.
And yet,
Whenever she crossed paths with them, something impossible happened.
Xavier would pause mid thought.
Zayne's gaze would linger half a second too long.
Rafayel would forget the joke he was about to make.
Sylus would look at her with an unreadable expression before turning away.
Caleb would frown, as though trying to remember a dream that vanished the moment he woke.
They noticed.
They all noticed.
Because somewhere beneath layers of forgotten lifetimes, their souls recognized a light they had once reached for.
A woman they had loved.
A woman they had lost.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Yet every lifetime had ended the same.
They found her, the heroine.
The story corrected itself.
Fate pulled them away.
The forgotten woman smiled, wished them happiness, and disappeared into history without anyone remembering she'd ever existed.
Hundreds of lives.
Hundreds of goodbyes.
Until Fate grew tired.
Not of the lovers.
Of the injustice.
So in this life, Fate gathered every fragment of joy, every ounce of confidence earned through lonely reincarnations, every kindness she had given expecting nothing back, and returned them to her.
Her wit became effortless.
Her smile became unforgettable.
Her presence rivaled constellations.
Doors opened.
People gravitated toward her.
She became the kind of person who accidentally became everyone's favorite.
But Fate added one final blessing.
A barrier.
Invisible.
Gentle.
Absolute.
Whenever one of those men looked her way, something inside her simply... disengaged.
No curiosity.
No butterflies.
No longing.
Only polite indifference.
As if the universe itself whispered,
"Not this time, my child."
She would nod politely if spoken to.
Answer work questions.
Then return to whatever she had been doing.
Never lingering.
Never chasing.
Never wondering what could have been.
Meanwhile, they stood there with the unbearable feeling that something precious had slipped through their fingers, without knowing they had been the ones to let go first. Far above them all, where threads of destiny shimmered like galaxies, the Goddess of Fate watched with quiet satisfaction.
"No."
Her voice carried the weight of every forgotten lifetime.
"You have loved enough, They had their chances. They chose the story. So now, I choose you."
And for the first time since the cycle began, Fate refused to write her as someone's almost.
You and Caleb are accidentally hurled two years into the future, straight into his apartment. Trapped in a closet, you’re forced to watch your future selves fuck like they’ve been starving for each other.
The art that inspired this fic: https://x.com/i/status/2077008975359525093
The heat at Grandma's house during peak summer was its own particular brand of suffering. It wasn't the same as the sharp dry heat of the city, this was heavy and wet and it made the air taste like cut grass and warm concrete. By ten in the morning you'd already sweated through your first shirt. By noon you'd given up on doing anything productive.
Which was how you and Caleb ended up in the kitchen at two in the afternoon, arguing about stupid stuff, because there was nothing else to do.
"We're out of green onions," he announced with his head inside the fridge. "And ginger. Grandma said we have to buy soy sauce and it has to be the right brand."
"Which brand?"
He turned around with an expression that said he had absolutely no idea.
"Great," you said. "Really helpful."
"She showed me once. It has a red label. Or maybe yellow." He pulled out a tote bag from the cabinet and dropped it on the counter in your direction. "We'll figure it out when we're there."
"The market is a fifteen minute walk in this heat."
"Then we should leave now."
"Caleb—"
He was already heading for the door. "Come on."
You grabbed the bag and your sunglasses and followed him out into the heat, which hit you like a wall the second you stepped off the porch.
The neighborhood was quiet on summer afternoons, everyone wanted to be inside with their fans on. You walked beside Caleb through streets you'd both known since childhood, past the park, past the corner ice cream store with the faded awning, past Mrs. Yuen's house with the wind chimes that had been making the same sound for fifteen years.
He was telling you about an incident with a new recruit that had happened at a training exercise last month and you were laughing.
"Did he get hurt?" you managed.
"Bruised his ego more than anything." Caleb pushed your sunglasses up. "Poor guy spent the rest of the session pretending it hadn't happened."
The market was cool and smelled like the same brand of air freshener they'd been using since you were ten. You grabbed a basket and split off toward the vegetables while Caleb wandered in the direction of the snack aisle, which —you'd learned over years of shared grocery runs— meant you were going to spend the next several minutes complaining about his choices.
You found the green onions. Found the ginger. Turned the corner into the snack aisle and found Caleb standing in front of the chips with two bags in his hands, deliberating.
"We don't need chips," you said.
"Yes we do."
"We have food at home."
"Chips are not food, chips are a separate category." He held them both up. "Salt and vinegar or barbecue."
"Neither. We're here for dinner ingredients."
"And chips." He put the barbecue in the basket.
You took it out. He put it back in.
"Caleb."
"It's for the walk home. You'll want some on the walk home."
"You are so—" You stopped, pointed at his chest. "Fine. One bag. And you're carrying it."
He was already reaching for a second one.
"One bag."
"Salt and vinegar for you, barbecue for me. That's technically one bag each which is—"
"That's two bags."
"One per person."
You let him keep both bags because the alternative was standing in the snack aisle for another five minutes.
The soy sauce took longer. You found the section, found approximately ten different brands, and stood there for a moment in silence.
"Red label or yellow?" you said.
"I said I wasn't sure."
"You said you'd seen it."
"I'd seen it, I didn't memorize it."
"Caleb, if we get the wrong one—"
He picked one up, turned it over, put it back. Picked up another. "This one looks right."
He put it in the basket and you picked up a different one, compared the labels side by side, and put his back and kept yours.
He switched them back the moment you turned away.
------
You were outside, bag on Caleb's shoulder, chips already open when your hunter's watch went off.
The sound cut straight through everything. Your hand was in the chip bag one second and at your holster the next, the muscle memory of it faster than conscious thought. The screen had gone red.
Wanderer detected. Class: High energy anomaly. Proximity: 100 meters.
Caleb stepped in close "Behind the market. Let's go."
You were already moving.
---
The alley ran behind a row of shops, narrow and shadowed, the air warping at the far end and that meant the Wanderer had already been there long enough to disturb local reality. You pulled your gun and kept your back to the wall, moving fast. Caleb came in on the other side, gravity already building at his hands, the air around his knuckles bending in a way that meant he was ready.
The Wanderer was enormous, the geometry of it not quite making sense no matter which angle you looked from. It moved fast for something that size, swinging a limb in your direction before you'd fully cleared the corner.
You fired twice. The shots connected and it shrieked, momentum redirected enough that the hit meant for you shattered a section of wall instead.
"Flank!" Caleb called.
You were already going wide. He pulled gravity in from the left, compressing the Wanderer's movement, slowing it just enough for you to get behind it and put three more shots into the joint where two of its limbs connected. It screamed and lurched sideways.
"Keep it off the street," you yelled over the noise.
"Working on it." He dragged it backward with a gravity pull that made the pavement crack under the force of it, steering it further into the alley.
It was not a clean fight. It kept redirecting, slamming into the walls, filling the alley with debris that you had to dodge while maintaining your sight lines.
Eventually the thing started to slow. Eventually it disappeared.
Then you saw it.
On the ground where the Wanderer had dissolved — a Protocore, small, throwing off an iridescent white that you'd never seen from a Wanderer before.
"That's not standard," Caleb said, coming to stand beside you. He crouched down to look at it without touching it. "I've never seen one this color."
"Me neither." You holstered your gun. "I should take it to HQ."
"Agreed." You crouched beside him, reaching for the core at the same time he did, and your hands closed around it simultaneously.
White light erupted.
It collapsed inward, pulling everything —sound, light, air, the alley— into a point of white noise and wind, and then nothing, a few seconds later there was a floor coming up very fast.
You hit the carpet with a thud that knocked the breath out of you.
Caleb landed beside you, one arm slamming down to catch his weight before he pushed himself up.
"Are you hurt," he said, breathing hard.
You did a fast inventory. "No. You?"
"No." He looked up. Looked around.
You were inside a huge apartment. Carpeted floor and warm light from the windows. A long couch. A coffee table with papers on it. A mug. A jacket draped over the back of a chair.
Someone's apartment.
You stood up slowly. Caleb was already at the bookshelf, and you followed, and then you saw the first photo and everything in your chest felt strange.
It was you. You and Caleb, standing somewhere sunny, laughing at something out of frame. You were wearing a jacket you didn't own. His hair was slightly different, grown out and pushed back.
There were more. The two of you at a restaurant, faces close across a small table. A shot of you asleep on a couch, and Caleb sitting at the other end with a book, but whoever had taken the photo had caught him looking at you and not at the page.
Your throat felt tight.
"This is my apartment," Caleb said quietly, from somewhere to your left.
You turned to look at him. He was looking at the leather jacket on the chair. His leather jacket, the one currently in his wardrobe back at the base. A pilot's manual on the shelf, the same one he'd been working through. A mug from the Farspace Fleet. A framed photo of your grandmother that matched the one at home.
"The photos—" you started.
"I know."
He crossed to the coffee table, picked up the newspaper and scanned the top page. He held it out.
The date at the top was two years from now. Exactly two years.
---
You spent the rest of the afternoon going through the apartment with careful attention, very aware you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be. You were trying to understand what the last two years had produced.
Caleb's future self left notes everywhere. Fridge, desk, bathroom mirror. His handwriting but with a different quality to it, more settled. There were more photos than you'd first noticed — tucked into the edges of the mirror in the hallway, stuck to the inside of a cabinet. A birthday card in your handwriting on the desk, standing open. A second toothbrush in the bathroom.
You both looked at that for a moment.
"I'm not going to say anything about any of this," you said finally, standing in the kitchen with your arms crossed.
"Good call," Caleb said, from the doorway.
"I'm —this is a lot of information."
"It is."
"And I'm not drawing any conclusions."
He went quiet.
The sun went down. The apartment went from warm gold to dark while you sat on the floor of the living room eating crackers you'd found in the cabinet, your backs against the couch, the Protocore sitting on the coffee table throwing faint white light across the ceiling.
"We'll figure out how to get back," Caleb said.
"I know."
"Same energy that brought us here should be able to—"
"Caleb, I know. I'm not panicking."
He looked at you sideways. "You're quieter than your normal quiet."
"I'm just thinking."
He nodded slowly. Ate a cracker. Didn't push it, he knew when to let something sit. Almost two decades of knowing each other and he'd learned exactly where the lines were.
You were about to say something else when you heard it.
Voices outside.
Both of you were on your feet before the door handle moved. Caleb stepped toward the entryway on pure instinct and you grabbed his arm with both hands and pulled.
"Don't," you said, low and fast.
"I just want to see—"
"You cannot make contact with yourself. Do you understand what that does to the timeline? Do you understand what happens if you alter something?"
"I wasn't going to —"
"Caleb." You got in front of him, hands on his chest, looking up at him with full seriousness. "We hide. Right now. We have to wait."
He looked at the door. The handle was starting to move.
"Fine," he said before he grabbed the protocore and then your wrist to pull you toward the hallway closet in two long strides, opening it fast and pulling you in after him, easing the door shut.
The closet was full. Coats, bags, a stack of boxes on the floor that immediately became a problem because you had nowhere to step back, which meant you were now pressed against Caleb from your shoulders to your knees.
You could feel every breath he took.
"This is very small," you whispered.
"I know," he said, directly behind your ear.
His arms were on either side of you because there was nowhere else for them. His chin was above your head. You could feel him making adjustments to keep whatever minimal distance physics was willing to offer, and it was working as well as you'd expect. Which was not well.
You were two childhood friends in a closet in an apartment that was apparently his, two years in the future, surrounded by photographic evidence of something neither of you had said out loud yet, and he was doing his very best not to press against you and his very best was losing badly to the laws of spatial reasoning.
The front door opened.
Through the slats of the closet door, the living room light clicked on.
"I told you." Your own voice, but looser, threaded through with laughter that had a very specific quality to it. "I told you we shouldn't have had that last drink."
"Yeah," came the reply. Caleb's voice, except it was rougher and stripped of the easy warmth you knew and replaced with something that made the back of your neck prickle. "You were flirting with the bartender just to watch me lose it."
"Maybe I was." Future you sounded unrepentant about this.
Through the slats you watched two people stumble into the living room and your brain took several seconds to process what your eyes were seeing. She was in a dress, form fitting, gorgeous, currently half unzipped down the back. Future Caleb had shed his jacket somewhere between the door and the living room, his shirt untucked with half the buttons open, chest visible, hair slightly wrecked.
Behind you, Caleb had gone completely rigid. You felt it happen, every muscle in his body locking up at once.
Then future Caleb grabbed future you by the waist and walked her backward into the living room wall.
The impact was loud. What followed was louder, the sound of them kissing, which was not the word for what was happening, kissing implied something with more restraint than this. Future Caleb had his hands in her hair and on her waist and sliding down to bunch the fabric of her dress up her thighs, all at the same time.
You made a sound you hadn't planned on making.
Caleb's hand came over your mouth so fast you didn't even see it coming, his palm pressing firm and warm against your lips, his forearm across your collarbone. His chest was heaving against your back and something else was pressing against the small of your back that you were both absolutely not acknowledging.
You made a muffled sound against his hand anyway.
His arm tightened.
Future Caleb pulled back just far enough to speak "You want to play games tonight?" A pause, heavy with intent. "Let's find out how loud I can make you scream."
He pushed his hand up her skirt.
You'd never made that sound in your life. Or apparently you would. In two years. Against that wall.
"Caleb—wait, wait—the couch—"
That was it. That was enough. Your hand shot out in the dark and found the closet door handle and you grabbed it.
Caleb's hand came off your mouth and closed around your wrist, pulling it back against you, his mouth dropping to your ear.
"Don't you dare," he breathed.
"We have to stop watching this—" you hissed.
"If you open that door they'll see us—"
"Then they see us—"
"And alter the timeline," he said. "Your words. Two minutes ago."
He was right and it was the worst possible moment for him to be right.
"Just—" His voice came out strained "Just don't move."
"Caleb—"
"I'm a guy, and you are literally grinding into me," he snapped softly, though there was no real anger in it. His forehead dropped briefly to the back of your head. "Just..." sigh "give me a second."
Outside the closet Caleb lifted her clean off the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her the few steps to the couch and dropped her onto it.
His hands yanked the straps of her dress down, baring her breasts. He pinched a nipple, and she arched with a sharp cry. "You are so fucking wet already. Been thinking about my cock all day? Want me to stretch that pretty pussy out right here?"
"Yes—fuck, Caleb, touch me," she gasped, hips grinding up.
Your breath hitched. Heat flooded between your legs, sudden and embarrassing. Caleb's cock twitched against your ass and you had to bite your lip to stay quiet.
Future Caleb reached down and shoved his pants off. You couldn't look away. He was big, thick, flushed, veins standing out. Ready.
Panic hit you. "Don't look," you whispered frantically. "That's... me. Turn around or do something—"
"Like hell," he said against your ear, teeth grazing the shell. "You're the one staring. You like seeing him like that? Seeing what I— what he wants to do to you?"
"Caleb, shut up," you whimpered, thighs pressing together.
He didn't fuck her right away. He grabbed her ankles, yanked her to the edge of the couch, and spread her wide. Dropped to his knees.
"Caleb—" she started, but it dissolved into a broken moan as he buried his face between her legs.
The sound of his tongue working her was loud and messy, completely shameless. Her head dropped back against the cushions, fingers twisted tight into the fabric, her whole body shaking every time he dragged his tongue over her clit in greedy strokes. He licked broad stripes up her slit before focusing on her clit again, sucking it into his mouth with a low groan.
"Fuck, you taste so good,”Caleb growled against her pussy, voice muffled but clear enough to carry.
"Just like that baby” she moaned, one hand fisting his hair, the other still twisting in the couch cushion.
He pinched her nipple hard with his free hand, rolling it between his fingers as he sucked harder. Her thighs trembled around his head.
Behind you, Caleb let out a broken groan that made your knees go soft. His arm snapped around your waist, holding you steady, fingers digging into your hip the exact same way his future self was gripping her out there.
“Fuck,” you whispered, head falling back against his shoulder before you could stop yourself. Your pussy was throbbing, aching so bad it almost hurt.
“Listen to that. Listen to how wet you get for me.” Caleb shifted his hips, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your ass through your jeans, dragging the seam right over your soaked cunt.
On the couch, she was losing it. "I need you inside me. I can’t wait anymore.”
Future Caleb pulled back, mouth shiny, breathing hard. He stroked himself once, twice, then lined up and drove into her in one rough thrust. Her legs wrapped around him as he started fucking her deep and hard, the couch creaking like it might give out any second. His back and ass flexed with every thrust, hips snapping forward. “Gonna come on my cock like a good girl?”
He leaned over her, one hand pinning her thigh higher as he fucked her. “Gonna fill you up. Want you leaking my cum the rest of the night. You love being my dirty little slut, don’t you? Say it.”
“Oh my god,” you choked, voice barely there. Watching yourself get railed like that—by him—was too much. The guy whose arms were currently locked around your waist, the same guy you’d known since you were kids, was pounding into a future version of you like he owned her.
She gasped between moans, nails now digging into his back. “Yes—your slut, Caleb—harder—”
“That’s my girl.” His hips snapped faster “Come on my cock like you did last night."
In the closet, Caleb’s forehead dropped to your shoulder, his cock twitched hard against your ass, hips making tiny, helpless thrusts.
You couldn’t tear your eyes away, every filthy word making the ache between your legs worse.
“Jesus,” Caleb whispered raggedly “We really talk like that?”
You twisted hard, trying to turn around in the cramped space so you wouldn’t have to see it anymore.
“Stop moving,” Caleb gasped, his control fraying fast as your ass rubbed right over the head of his cock.
“I can’t watch this—let me turn—”
Your foot caught on a heavy boot buried in the mess at the bottom of the closet. Balance gone.
“Whoa—” Caleb grabbed for you, but it was too late. Your combined weight slammed into the door.
The cheap magnetic latch popped open with a sad little click.
The squeaking of the couch cut off like someone had yanked the plug on the whole universe.
The silence that followed rang in your ears. You pushed up on your elbows, face so hot you were surprised you hadn’t spontaneously combusted. Caleb was beside you, shirt rucked up, the very obvious, very hard line of his erection pressing against your thigh.
You both slowly turned your heads toward the couch.
A few meters away, future Caleb was frozen mid thrust, hands locked on future you’s hips, his body still buried deep inside her. She had one leg hooked high around his waist, hair a wild mess, chest heaving. Both of them stared at you with identical expressions of what the actual fuck.
They were a sweaty, flushed disaster, very naked and very, very mid fuck.
“What the…” future Caleb started.
Future you blinked slowly. “Is that… us?”
You opened your mouth, brain offering the most useless sentence in history. “We were just looking for soy sauce—”
The white light from the Protocore exploded again. The apartment, the couch, your naked and extremely confused future selves—all of it ripped away in a roar of rushing air.
Thud.
You hit the dirty alley hard enough to knock the wind out of you again.
Caleb groaned beside you, flat on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. His chest rose and fell in sharp pulls. You could still feel the ghost of his hardness against you, the way his fingers had dug into your hip in the closet. Your own body was still buzzing, thighs slick, pulse pounding between your legs like a second heartbeat.
For a moment, neither of you moved.
Then Caleb let out a shaky laugh that sounded half hysterical. “Soy sauce. Really?”
You rolled onto your side, wincing at the scrapes on your elbows. “It was the first thing that came to mind, okay? We just watched ourselves— I mean, they— we were—” You gestured vaguely, face burning all over again. “You know.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”
He sat up slowly and ran a hand through his hair. The front of his shorts was still a bit tented. He didn’t bother trying to hide it. You weren’t exactly in a position to judge, your nipples were tight against your shirt, and you were pretty sure your face was the color of a ripe tomato.
The protocore gave one last weak shimmer and dissolved into harmless blue dust that scattered across the pavement.
Caleb looked at you. “So… two years from now, huh?”
You swallowed. “Apparently we, uh… figured some things out.”
He huffed another laugh, but it was softer this time. Almost wondering. He reached over and brushed a bit of alley dirt off your cheek with his thumb. The touch lingered.
“We should probably go”
You nodded, but neither of you stood up right away. The air between you felt thicker than the summer humidity, charged with everything you’d just seen and felt in that stupid closet.
Caleb’s gaze dropped to your mouth for a second, then flicked back up. “When we get back to the house…”
“Yeah?” you whispered.
He smiled, small and crooked and a little nervous, the same smile he’d given you a thousand times growing up, except this one felt different.
“I’m not waiting two years,” he said.
Your heart did something complicated in your chest.
You grabbed his hand, pulled him up with you, and the two of you started walking out of the alley like nothing had happened.
But everything had happened.
And as your fingers brushed again while you walked, neither of you pulled away.
NOTE: You don't always have to use an alternative to said in order to get your point across! Please avoid overusing dialogue tags, and remember to spice things up in other ways.
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Would highly recommend reading the whole article. It's amazing.
First page:
— Points out the increase in discussions surrounding media works (movies, books, games, etc.)
— Different viewpoints and perspectives are important to the development of the industry
— Specifically points out the discussions about Valko
— "...fragmented and isolated content has been extracted and disseminated, detached from the complete storyline, leading to public misperceptions, generating online conflicts and controversies, and hindering the construction of a clean online public opinion environment."
— "Industry experts believe that the evaluation of artistic works should be based on the overall narrative, advocating rational discussion and objective interpretation, and avoiding one-sided interpretations that lead to misinterpretations.
Second page:
— Directly and clearly explains that Valko's story was misinterpreted
— Points out that the scene on MC's balcony was in the Bond story, where there is already an established relationship between the MC and Valko
— Points out that the "He will open the door for you" line was also misinterpreted. MC is the wolf in that piece of dialogue, while Valko is the prey
— Explains that LADS is a fictional universe that cannot be controlled or dictated by real-world laws and norms
— Also clarifies that LADS is for ADULTS
— States that real-world perceptions cannot be applied to fictional universes
— States that LADS announced its development plan back in 2023, and that everything they have developed and announced is expected for a game that plans to release long-term content
— "Furthermore, according to feedback from the Shanghai Municipal Regulatory Bureau, the storyline related to Ao Yin in Love and Deepspace complies with domestic game content management regulations and does not contain any illegal content."
Third page:
— Emphasizes the importance of player feedback
— States that diverse opinions and preferences allow for the development of subcultures and are normal and expected in the industry
— Emphasizes the importance of not listening to a single voice or group when it comes to corporate decision-making
— Points out the loud overseas support for Valko, including the iPetitions site
— Explains Love and Deepspace's importance in sharing Chinese culture with global players
— Mentions the awards the game has won, and that it has been selected as a key national culture export project
— "The value judgement of artistic works cannot rely on fragmented dissemination or emotional interpretations to define the overall content."
— Heavily emphasizes the importance of looking at the entire storyline for context
— States that a healthy online environment depends on collaborative efforts, and that differing opinions should be shared rationally and respectfully
Overall, really killer article. It clears up a lot of misinformation, emphasizes the importance of rational opinions and context, acknowledges global players, and talks about the importance of LADS in the Chinese international market.
I was genuinely kicking my feet reading it because it's everything we've been preaching for the last three weeks. It hits almost every single point. Salivating over this one too.
Sina News Article
The Sina News article was reposted by the China Rule of Law Network. From a CN user on X that I trust (oibaby1103), "Regarding authority, I think the most authoritative one is 'Rule of Law Network.' Everyone can judge for themselves—I think it's a step forward!"
Here's the link to the article on the Rule of Law Network website.
I agree with them, this definitely feels like a massive step forward for us!
Summary: After a weeks-long absence, a sudden spark of jealousy and insecurity shatters Hwa-jin’s strict composure.
Warnings: established relationship, minor angst, jealousy, insecurity, arguing, smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, teasing, squirting, doggy style, possessiveness.
Note: English is not my first language so feel free to tell me if there are any mistakes.
The silence in the apartment had become a constant over the last three weeks. You woke up at six in the morning, right on schedule, but the first thing your hand brushed against was the empty side of the bed. Opening your eyes fully, the only signs of life were the creases in Hwa-jin’s pillow and the faint aroma of coffee drifting from the kitchen. It was his daily footprint… a quiet reminder that you shared your life with a man who had recently become a ghost, swallowed whole by the demands of the ERPB.
Their nighttime routine was a mirror image of that disconnect. Sometimes, half-asleep, you’d catch the barely audible thud of his shoes hitting the entryway floor. Hwa-jin would slip into the pitch-black bedroom, holding his breath so he wouldn't disturb your sleep. He’d slide under the covers with painstaking slowness, draping a heavy arm around your waist. Pulling you flush against his chest, he’d bury his face in your neck and breathe you in, looking for an anchor before closing his eyes for a couple of hours.
You knew exactly how grave the school bullying case was that the ERPB was handling right now. You’d seen the case files piling up in his briefcase and understood the sheer weight he carried on his shoulders. Because of that, you never complained. Not once had you thrown his overtime in his face, or the sleepless nights spent crashing on his office couch, or the brief texts that barely served to let you know he was still breathing. You kept your own loneliness tucked away in a corner, channeling it into small gestures of support: sticky notes on the fridge wishing him a good day, dinner packed in thermal containers and an immaculate space waiting for whenever he decided to come home.
Ironically, though, that very understanding was what was brewing a storm inside him. Hwa-jin was used to conflict and the hostility of the outside world, but your absolute patience disarmed him… and, paradoxically, fed a deep-seated insecurity.
Every time he stumbled home in the dead of night and saw your sweet notes, guilt ate him alive. His mind began to twist things with intrusive thoughts… he was terrified that your lack of complaints wasn't just maturity, but a sign that you were getting used to his absence. He feared you were learning to live without him, that the space he left behind didn't hurt anymore, or that you'd eventually tire of waiting for a shadow and leave to find someone ordinary who could offer you a normal life.
The physical distance was carving out a mental abyss his pride wouldn't let him confess, planting a suffocating fear of losing you.
And that routine of absences finally hit its breaking point on Friday afternoon.
You’d spent the whole week submerged in that superficial calm, but the weight of the empty house was starting to take its toll. So, you decided to accept an invitation from your coworkers to grab dinner at a restaurant downtown. It was a genuine attempt to clear your head and celebrate the success of your latest project with the team. While getting ready, you picked up your phone and sent a quick text to Hwa-jin, letting him know your plans so he wouldn't worry if he made it home early and found you gone.
A few minutes later, your screen lit up. Hwa-jin replied from the ERPB office, surrounded by investigation folders and cups of cold coffee. Reading your text, his first instinct was relief… he wanted you to have fun and shake off the tension his grueling hours had caused. But the guilt, combined with a desperate need to see you, made him type out an immediate offer.
Hwa-jin: Do you want me to pick you up from the restaurant when you guys are done?
It was his way of clawing for a moment with you, of fulfilling the role he felt he was abandoning. But your reply came almost instantly, driven purely by your desire for him to get some rest.
You: Don't worry, babe. Just rest up if you get off early.
You: Seung-hoon is the designated driver tonight. He's staying sober and dropping me off right at the front door.
To you, it was a logical message, a small act of consideration for his exhaustion. To Hwa-jin, however, those lines were a direct hit to his pride and his protective instincts.
He froze, staring at the screen as a dull wave of irritation began to spread through his body. Reading another man's name taking over the responsibility of keeping you safe made his fists clench unconsciously. In Hwa-jin's mind, shielding you from the dangers of the world was a sacred duty that belonged to him and him alone… it was his purest love language.
Picturing a stranger driving the car you were in, watching over you and making sure you got home safe while he was stuck behind a desk made him feel entirely displaced and disposable. His rational mind tried to pacify the anger, telling him it was a safe solution, but his possessive nature couldn't help it: he loathed the idea of you looking for support in others just because he wasn't available.
The frustration of his own absence morphed into anger toward this Seung-hoon guy. Hwa-jin locked his phone with a sharp snap and shoved it into his suit pocket, unable to focus on the rest of the files. The spark of jealousy had been struck... and the composure he was so famous for was beginning to crack under the weight of his own insecurity.
(...)
Hwa-jin’s watch read three in the morning by the time he parked his car in the building's underground garage. He stepped out of the vehicle with the heavy, rigid movements of someone who had spent the entire day under extreme pressure. They had managed to wrap up the preliminary phase of the investigation ahead of schedule and he had driven home with one single thought looping in his head: finding you fast asleep so he could crawl in beside you and hold you tight, erasing weeks of distance in a single night.
Stepping into the apartment, he slipped his shoes off without a sound and walked straight to the bedroom. He peered through the doorway with a faint smile, but the sight of the empty bed made his chest tighten with a jolt of real panic. His mind derailed completely in a matter of seconds. The math didn't add up, a normal Friday dinner didn't last this long.
He paced the living room, unable to stay still. Paranoia began weaving dangerous theories, feeding his latent insecurity. He glanced at his watch: 3:05, 3:10. The intrusive thoughts attacked him mercilessly. He started imagining that this Seung-hoon guy had tried something, changing routes to take advantage of the fact that you might be tired or drunk. His hands balled into tight fists inside his pockets.
But there was an even more painful doubt clawing at his pride: the possibility that nothing bad had happened at all, but that you had simply chosen to spend the night with someone else. He imagined your laugh… the one he hadn't been able to hear in weeks, ringing out in a hotel room for another man. It burned him to think you had chosen someone who actually had time for you, someone who could offer a conversation without the looming weight of violence in the background.
His protective instinct and raw jealousy warped into a toxic mix as he gripped his phone, torn between calling to demand answers or continuing to wait in the dark.
At three-fifteen, the sharp beep of the electronic lock shattered the apartment's silence. You walked into the living room, dragging your feet from the long night but wearing a relaxed expression… a smile lighting up your face the moment you spotted your boyfriend sitting on the couch. Your first instinct was pure relief; after so many nights of coming back to an empty apartment, he was finally home.
Riding the wave of happiness at seeing him, you walked over to greet him.
"Hey! What a surprise to see you awake" you said, tossing your keys onto the entryway table. "I thought you'd be crashing at the office again tonight."
Hwa-jin didn't move an inch. There was no trace of the warmth you'd anticipated. He watched you from the sofa, crossing one leg over the other, throwing you a cold look that sliced the room's atmosphere right in half. He was white-knuckling his phone in his right hand.
"It's a quarter after three" he said, his voice terrifyingly low. "A rather long dinner, from what I can see."
You stopped dead in the middle of the room, completely thrown off by the hostility in his tone. You slowly slipped off your jacket, frowning as you tried to process his attitude.
"Well, yeah, we lost track of time talking after we ate" you replied. "Is something wrong? You're acting weird."
"Nothing's wrong" he snapped, standing up instantly. He shoved his phone into his pocket and walked over to you, stopping just a couple of steps away. "Have you been drinking?"
The question caught you completely off guard, but you held his gaze so he could see you were entirely sober.
"No, Hwa-jin" you answered clearly. "I didn't drink at all. I only ordered water all night because I wanted to get home safely. Why are you asking me like that? Are you angry?"
Hwa-jin looked away for a second, letting out a dry chuckle. He adjusted his watch mechanically… a telltale sign of just how wound up he was on the inside.
"I'm not angry. I'm just waiting for a logical explanation as to why you vanish like that."
"Why I vanish?" you repeated, your patience starting to wear thin. "I texted you this afternoon. I told you exactly who I was going with and that I'd be late. I don't see what I did wrong."
"What you did wrong was getting into a stranger's car at three in the morning by yourself" he fired back, cutting you off with a harshness that froze the blood in your veins.
"He's not a stranger, Hwa-jin. It was Seung-hoon, my coworker. I told you that in the text. He was the designated driver, he was sober and he offered to drop me right at the door so I wouldn't have to call a cab alone this late. It was a favor."
"A favor?" Hwa-jin took another step forward, using his massive height to crowd you back against the wall. "Don't be naive. I don't know this guy, I don't know what kind of man he is. But in my line of work, I deal with bastards like him every single day. Men who play the gentleman, who offer to drive you home and act nice just to see if they can catch you with your guard down."
You stared up at him in silence, letting his words sink in. You didn't let his imposing size intimidate you, because underneath that fierce ERPB inspector facade was still the man you love… and you had just caught onto the real root of his anger. Seeing the rigid set of his jaw and hearing the slight tremor in his breath, it hit you. You knew he was painfully aware that you'd been enduring his absence for weeks without a single complaint... and you realized that what was truly eating him alive wasn't worry for your safety, but something much more vulnerable.
You took a step forward, completely erasing the last bit of space between you and spoke with a calm that utterly disarmed him.
"Seung-hoon dropped me off at the entrance and left, Hwa-jin. Nothing happened" you said softly. "So don't drag my safety into this just to cover up what's really going on with you."
"What's going on with me?" he repeated, his eyes narrowing.
"Yes" you said, holding his gaze without blinking. "You're not mad because I was in danger. You're just jealous. Plain and simple."
The direct hit to his pride was devastating. Hwa-jin shut up instantly, cutting off his own retort. His eyes flared before he looked away, completely thrown off by how effortlessly you had laid bare the vulnerability he had fought so hard to hide.
He took one final step, completely pinning you between the wall and his solid chest. Tilting your chin up, his fingers were firm but careful, forcing you to look up at the savage possessiveness clouding his eyes. His breath hit your face, hot and rapid.
"Don't play shrink with me..." he warned, his voice a low, gravelly rasp against your lips. "Don't push your luck if you aren't ready for the consequences."
You didn't back down. You stared right back, holding your breath as the firm pressure on your chin locked your eyes to his. Hwa-jin didn't wait for a reply. The tension built up over weeks of distance, combined with the weight of his wounded pride, finally snapped his self-control.
He let go of your chin only to wrap his hands firmly around your ass, lifting you clean off the floor. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his thick waist, catching a sharp gasp of surprise in your throat as you clung to his broad shoulders for balance. Hwa-jin marched straight into the pitch-black bedroom, crashing his lips against yours. It was a deep kiss, a physical claim that left absolutely no room for argument.
He dropped you onto the mattress and before you could even adjust, his heavy frame was hovering over you. He knelt between your spread thighs, leaving you completely exposed and at his mercy. His rough hands stroked the curve of your thigh, the contrast of his skin making a shiver run down your spine.
"I missed you so much..." he breathed, his voice sounding raw, as if he could barely believe you were actually there.
"Hwa-jin..." you whispered, searching for his eyes in the shadows.
He let out a low growl at the sound of his name on your lips, grabbing your hips and pulling you flush against his pelvis. Pushing yourself up slightly onto one elbow, you reached out with your free hand, taking his and placing it firmly over one of your breasts, guiding him to squeeze. Hwa-jin groaned, closing his eyes tightly as if fighting for control. Your movement forced him closer, looming over you until his massive shadow completely covered your body.
"It's been so many days, love" you murmured, reminding him of how long it had been since you last touched. "I don't want you holding back. Not a single thing."
Hwa-jin nodded slowly, pulling back just enough to strip. You both shed what clothes you had left, leaving nothing between you. The view of him in the dim light was breathtaking, he was so tall and broad that his frame seemed to fill the entire room.
He leaned back down, kissing you with a desperate hunger, his hands roaming over your body with an absolute lack of hesitation… and you loved him for it. In this bed, this man was yours and you were entirely his.
You didn't stay still either. Gripping his shoulders, your hands began to slide down, exploring the expanse of skin you knew by heart. You traced his chest, his waist and finally wrapped your fingers around his rigid length. You stroked him firmly, making his hips twitch violently under your touch.
"Sweetheart..." he gasped, panting against your mouth.
"I love you, Hwa-jin... you're the only one for me" you whispered, your eyes locked onto his.
"I know, my love. Forgive me for ever letting myself doubt you" he murmured back, his voice barely a rough whisper. "What do you want?"
"Whatever you want" you countered.
Hwa-jin growled again, a deep sound that vibrated right through the bed. He grabbed your legs, pinning them back against your chest and with one powerful arm, he hooked your ankles over his left shoulder. Using his free hand, he guided his thick cock, teasingly rubbing his swollen head against your drenched entrance.
You couldn't help but smile at the feel of him against your slick folds, trembling in anticipation of what was coming.
"Did I mention how much I missed you?" he teased, dragging his head against you again, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips as he grazed your clit. "Because I want to make sure I'm being entirely clear."
"Just do it" you demanded and he smirked, obeying instantly.
You felt him sink into you, his thick length stretching your walls and filling you completely. Your fingers buried themselves deep into the bedsheets before migrating to grip his biceps, desperate for an anchor. He started slow at first, letting out low sighs and planting soft kisses along your thigh. Within minutes, though, his rhythm shifted. He accelerated, the heavy thud of his hips crashing against you echoing in the quiet room.
Hwa-jin fucked you mercilessly. Every deep thrust felt like heaven, as if he were using his sheer roughness to remind you exactly who you belonged to. He was intense, dominant and utterly relentless. You closed your eyes as a tight knot of pleasure began to coil deep in your stomach, sharper and hotter than anything you'd felt in weeks.
"Love..." he whispered in your ear, his breath scorching. "Open your eyes. Look at me."
You did as he asked, opening your eyes to find his face flushed, the veins on his forehead prominent from the exertion. He kept pounding into you without dropping his intensity. The heavy collision of your bodies was getting louder, surely audible throughout the entire apartment.
"Ah!" you cried out suddenly as one massive thrust hit the absolute bottom of your core.
"Right there?" he asked and all you could do was nod blindly, completely losing your grip on reality.
Hwa-jin shifted, shifting his knees wider and pulling you even closer into his chest. His left arm clamped your legs tightly against his torso and he began to penetrate you even faster, harder and deeper than before.
It was too much. You simply couldn't hold it together anymore. You shattered completely beneath him. The knot in your stomach snapped, your mind went entirely white and though you tried your hardest not to scream, you couldn't stop the loud moans from ripping out of your throat.
He leaned down to capture your mouth, folding you nearly in half, your feet pressed up near your head. The sheer pressure of the position combined with his unyielding thrusts pushed your orgasm into overdrive. Suddenly, a rush of hot fluid erupted from your core, soaking the sheets and drenching your boyfriend’s pelvis.
Hwa-jin caught his breath, freezing for a few seconds as he watched your climax slick down your skin. He slowly let go of your legs, letting them fall heavily to the mattress while your body continued to spasm around him.
"Oh god... how embarrassing" you mumbled, covering your face with your hands, burning with mortification at the wet mess on the bed. Hwa-jin gently pulled your hands away from your face.
"Hey, no... don't do that. I loved it, okay?" he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your lips.
You flushed crimson at his words, dropping your gaze only to notice he was still rock hard. His stamina was genuinely unreal.
"Don't stop" you pleaded softly.
"I won't" he murmured, bracing his forearms on either side of your head, bringing his face inches from yours. "But you're going to be incredibly sensitive and I'm not slowing down..."
You reached up, framing his face with your hands, running your fingers through his hair and brushing his bangs out of his eyes as best you could.
"Keep going just like this" you said, giving him a quick kiss that brought a brilliant, striking smile to his face.
This time, he shifted your weight. Hwa-jin grabbed your waist and flipped you over, guiding you onto all fours. He pressed a hand against your lower back to arch your spine, pausing just long enough to slide a pillow underneath your stomach.
His big hands gripped your hips, anchoring you firmly to the mattress. The damp sheets felt shockingly cold against your skin for the brief second he took to line himself up behind you, before the heat of his massive body covered you completely from behind. Hwa-jin didn't make you wait, he aligned his cock with your opening and drove inside you with one deep thrust.
The air tore from your lungs in a loud cry. With your walls already hypersensitive from your first peak, the sensation was magnified a hundredfold. You dropped your head onto your forearms, breathing heavily and trying to relax around him. Hwa-jin began to fuck you hard and fast again, his hands smoothing down your back.
Glancing over your shoulder, you found him staring down at you with an intensity that made you tremble. His jaw was locked tight, the veins in his arms bulging from the strain, his messy bangs falling over his face. His hands never let go… they slid from your back to your hips, then down to your thighs, squeezing your skin tightly to keep you steady as he relentlessly drove into you without giving you a second to breathe.
"Tell me who you belong to" he rasped close to your ear, his frantic breath hot against your neck. "Say it."
"Yours, Hwa-jin... only yours" you panted, arching your back further into his touch, begging for him to go deeper.
He let out a low chuckle that vibrated right against your spine before his hips blurred into a frantic pace. Your moans filled the room, completely surrendered to his will. Hwa-jin leaned his entire weight over you, pressing you gently into the mattress, wrapping one arm securely around your chest to keep you pinned flush against him as he drove toward the finish line.
The friction of his swollen head colliding with your deepest g spot pushed you over the edge in seconds. Just as the spasms of your second orgasm began to clamp tightly around him, Hwa-jin let out a guttural growl, burying himself to the hilt as he came heavily inside you.
Silence slowly filled the bedroom once more, punctuated only by the ragged rhythm of your breathing. Hwa-jin collapsed onto his back beside you, throwing an arm over his eyes as he fought to catch his breath. You ran a hand through your hair, pulling a pillow over to bury your face in it, feeling the immense weight of the physical and emotional exhaustion of the night wash over your bones.
A few minutes later, the mattress dipped. Hwa-jin rolled over and tugged you by the waist, pulling your back flush against his bare chest. His breathing had evened out, but his fingers still trembled slightly as he brushed a few stray hairs away from your face.
"Next time, you wait for me at the bar" he said, his voice returning to its usual commanding tone. "I don't care how late it is. I'm leaving here or the office and picking you up myself"
You grabbed his arm, pulling it off your waist so you could turn around and face him directly. He immediately re-established his grip on your hip, squeezing gently. A small, tired smile slipped onto your lips.
"I can take a cab home by myself, Hwa-jin. You don't need to establish a security protocol every time I go out to a bar" you said gently. "I could have done it tonight too, but it felt silly when we already had a designated driver."
He went quiet for a moment, his fingers softly stroking your waist as the armor of his pride slowly melted away, leaving only the raw honesty of the past few weeks.
"I didn't want you taking a cab" he confessed in a quiet whisper, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "I just wanted to be the one there for you. I know we haven't been seeing each other much... and it pisses me off that you're getting used to it."
You wrapped your arms around him, curling closer into his chest, finally erasing the distance that had kept you apart for so long.
"I'm never going to get used to being without you. I missed you too" you assured him, closing your eyes. "Let's go to sleep, Hwa-jin. You're finally here."
