#Manipulation Consolation

[crossoverheaven]

[coffeegnomee]

also crazy that we knew on day 4 that spoke had access to console. The amount of little details that all ended up mattering in the end is not helping my red string conspiracy board pilled brain.

[drunkintellecual]

afraid to play on my steam deck in public because i feel like i look like this

[beebfreeb]

hiii ive never interacted w you other than rbing sometimes but i just wanted to let you know that theres something ab the wir takeover of your blog ive genuinely loved. like i watched you get into it and then it just slowly took over your blog as you made it your own n like what youre posting now is almost in the territory of unrecognizable from the source material and i just think thats fun :) youre taking the world and characters from the movie and twisting it and adding onto it n idk, its special to me. its your wreck it ralph now. its filling the good sequel shaped space in my heart but way more creative n out there than disney would ever create

I'm glad you're having fun! A lot of people have unfollowed me LOL. I am easily delighted by characters made for a specific purpose and their relationships to that. I like playing toys with the setting and characters because there is a lot of questions that are never explored due to the scope of the movie.

What if the arcade had a GameCube in it for hosting Super Smash Bros. tournaments?

[the-hidden-hand]

I always thought that "The Dynamics of an Asteroid" was too outdated of a thesis title, understandibly so. So I got inspired, what if BBC Jim Moriarty retained the academical prowess of ACD James Moriarty?

[hcdgepcdge]

// hi yes, I am complaint. Cause if i see one more post bash on ragatha imma lose it

[crossoverheaven]

[wasteland-photography]

Runaway I: "Race you there!"

Had a bit of an unexpected adventure today. When I returned to the Red Rocket, I was shocked to see Piper's sister, Nat, cheerfully standing outside the station waving to me.

I had no idea how she managed to make it here all by myself -- but she said she'd decided to stop by and visit her sister as a surprise.

When I recovered from my initial shock, I explained that her sister wasn't there right now, and offered to help escort Nat back home.

While the wasteland could be dangerous, I figured it would be best to help keep Nat in good spirits. So we decided to turn the journey back into a bit of a game. The sun was setting soon, and I needed us both alert, and cool under pressure.

I admit, I was probably a lot more scared than she was.

[cipheroftheall-seeing]

[rose-tinted-nostalgia]

I had to tell my manager, borderline in tears, that I had to go home just minutes after clocking into my second shift after finally returning to work this week because my son’s father is so incapable of watching his own children that he had a tantrum until I came home. But I got to dance in the kitchen with my kids while my oldest very proudly made pancakes all by himself, and although I sobbed the entire way home, seeing my children smile at me with that much love almost made me forget it.

[cherrynpink]

freak like me

pairing: nerdy!dino x f!reader

genre: project partners, mutual pining, lots of daydreaming, smut (with a bit of plot) MDNI!

warnings: shy cutesy dino who has my heart (he is a secret freak!), idk how american uni works so just go w it pls, dino and chan are both used interchangeably, oc has nerd kink (ahem), forward oc, cursing, a bit of manipulation?, too many thirsty thoughts, kissing, choking, spit kink, unprotected sex (do not do this!), oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, clit stimulation, brat!oc, brattamer!dino, mean dino, he calls oc slut/whore, dirty talk!!!, riding, missionary position, creampie, size kink?, crying, hair grabbing, ass slapping, orgasm denial, cum eating, it is honestly filthy, lmk if i missed anything!

w.c.: 5.4k

playlist: freak like me

for more of my work, check out my masterlist!

note: thank you so much for liking the last fic so much :( didn't expect such a positive reception so i was super motivated to write this one! plus these pictures of him did something to me like y'all don't get it like i do bcs i went crazy and HAD to write.

also u can message me here or comment if u want to be part of my taglist! my requests are open if u have something u wanna read, or just talk. feedback is highly appreciated hope u like this one hehe :3

“Right, so the semester end project will be a group project.” Your professor says as the whole class sighs in disappointment and annoyance.

“I know you all don’t like these group projects, but it’s compulsory guys, it’s worth 30% of your final grade. If it’s any consolation, I requested the dean to let it be done in pairs, so be a little grateful, I don’t want anyone coming up to me after class asking to change partners.”

Great. The only thing you hated more than group projects were the ones done in pairs. In spite of all the arguments in groups, atleast you didn’t have to do any work if you didn’t feel like it. But now not only will there be conflicts with your partner, but you’ll have to do half the work too. Just great.

“Y/n? miss y/n?” your professor calls pulling you out of your zoned out state as you raise your hand in confusion.

“You’ll be partnered with Mr. Chan.”

Oh. This was going to be fun. Not only was Chan really REALLY good at studies, but also so cute. You first met him just on the second day of class, when you asked him for a pencil because being klutz you are, you had forgotten you had that class that day and had practically rolled off your bed as your roommate woke you up minutes before it started, reaching a bit late and resulting in your professor scolding you. Chan had coyly given you the pencil, later passing you a note in the middle of the class written “you can ask me later if you have any doubts about what was taught before you arrived as you were a bit late :)”. Oh, he was so cute.

That was how your friendship started, though you never talked much outside of class- other than the occasional times he replied to your story or liked it, you and him were mostly formal with each other, never crossing the boundary of “classmates.”

Sometimes you would ask him for his notes, and being the nice guy he is, he would send the snapshots in a second. You would later leave an iced americano on his usual seat, as a gesture of thankfulness; and a note along with it. Sometimes when the professor’s voice cracked in the middle of the lecture, your eyes would find his- giving each other a slight smile.

It was always quick glances, polite words, and soft smiles, because you both never seemed to take it further. But you were tired now, tired of pretending you didn’t picture his face squished under your thighs, glasses all fogged up and your slick dripping down his chin. Tired of acting like you didn’t violate your poor pillow every other night imagining how he would sound with him in your throat.

Was he a head pusher? Or someone that just begged you to let him come? Would he let you tie him up? Or would he want to tie YOU up? you were sick of acting like he didn’t get you so so wet when he answered a question in class and fixed his glasses, and you had a plan to change that.

As the class ends, you see him coming up to you.

“Should we work at the library at 6 today? I’ll get us some coffee and snacks to eat while we work!” he says with a small smile on his face.

You could agree to the library at 6, after all he has pitched it so sweetly, but there is a devil on your shoulder that is actually so evil, because you hear a voice in your head saying no way you’re meeting him in a public place for the things you want to do with him.

“I’m a bit busy at 6 Chan, I-”

“Dino! You can call me dino too. All my friends usually call me that.” He says shyly.

You smile sweetly. “I’m a bit busy at 6 dino, I have my shift at the café.” You say pouting at him. They are blatant lies. You do not have your shift at the café today because it is closed, something about the owner being at a wedding, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“You can come over to my place at 10 if it’s okay with you? I doubt the library will be open till the time I get off work.” You feel a bit bad, but you’re just inviting him over because it’s more comfortable at home, right? Yeah! Nothing needs to happen just because you’ll be alone with him. (You are lying to yourself at this point because there is no way you don’t lose your mind at the thought of being alone with him.)

“Oh, okay sure! text me the address, I’ll be there.” He says with a sweet smile and you might crush him because of how much you want to squish his cheeks right now.

Dino might go crazy. He’s not even sure if you could see he wasn’t paying attention to a thing you said, because he was too busy staring at your lips the entire time, and then your collarbones, until his eyes travelled to your tits trapped in your blouse which was just a little too tight. Tight enough to accentuate the curve of your breasts; but not letting them spill out- just tight enough.

On top of that, if he’s left alone with you, he has no idea how he’s going to prevent a tent from forming in his pants, so he opts for a oversized hoodie long enough to cover him and a pair of grey sweatpants because it is your house after all, he can dress casual, and he doesn’t want you to know he took 20 minutes to decide what he wore so that his outfit says-“hey, I’m casual and comfortable” and “I’m put together” at the same time.

He is sharp on time, you say to yourself as the bell rings. You’re a bit nervous approaching the door in your small plaid skirt and sweater, knowing how he always stares at you whenever you wear a skirt to class. Plus, you’re wearing a something a little special underneath it, just it case. You push the self-doubting thoughts to the back of your head as you open your door and he is a sight to see. He looks so delicious in those animal print framed glasses and messy hair, there is a glow on his face and oh, those stupid goddamn grey sweatpants. It is OVER for you.

“You’re very punctual, it’s exactly 10.” You giggle. “Your hair looks a bit of a mess dino, coming from another girl’s place?” you say as you smirk, leaning against the door.

“No! No, I just came from the gym, my hair is still a bit wet from the shower.” He says as he ruffles his hair and comes in, setting his bag on the table in your living room. Oh? Pretty boy goes to the gym as well, is there anything he doesn’t do. He usually only wore oversized hoodies and t-shirts to class, never really revealing his true figure; nor did you ever see him much in parties despite his friends being a part of the frat, so this was a new side of him you were seeing right now.

“My roommate is gonna be home in a bit, so we can work in my room, mhm?” you ask, acting intentionally doe eyed and innocent. Lies. They are all lies. Your roommate isn’t going to be home in a bit, she’s at her girlfriend’s dorm. And she is not going to be home until tomorrow after class. And maybe if Chan was thinking clearly, he would’ve asked why your roommate would mind you working in the living room with him. But he’s not thinking clearly, too busy staring at your legs and imagining his face between your thighs; so, forgive him if he isn’t at his highest functioning brain activity right now.

He murmurs a quiet okay as he follows you to your room as you lead him. And your room is so you. He doesn’t know how to explain it, because he doesn’t know you so well yet, but as soon as he enters through the door, he sees plushies laid out neatly on your bed, and your scent all around him. He can see posters of bands and movies dressing up your walls and random Sanrio figurines all around the room. He lays his bag on your bed, taking out his laptop as you sit next to him on your chair, and your skirt rides up, revealing your soft thighs further. And maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him, but he can almost see pink lace fabric peaking from underneath your skirt. And maybe you’re just a bit cold, but he swears he can see your nipples peeking through your sweater.

Every passing minute, he is making it so hard for you to keep your composure. He keeps sharing his ideas about the project and telling you what you should work on. Why is hearing him talk about physics so sexy? You don’t know what it is, but you can’t help but think how hot he looks when he talks so passionately. Your panties are literally getting soaked as the time goes on. It’s been an hour, and he hasn’t even taken a second to look at you yet! You’re quite literally whoring yourself out for him and all he cares about is inductive motor or whatever the hell the project is about.

“Channie, can we move to the bed? I’m feeling a bit tired from my shift.” You say, fake yawning.

“Mmm? Oh sure.” It is over for him, he thinks to himself.

As you sit up on your bed, your skirt FULLY rides up, revealing your baby pink lace panties. You push it down gently, saying “oops” as you giggle. And something inside him snaps. All control he had, he’s lost it now and he physically cannot hold back anymore. His gaze darkens, as he pushes you down, his grip on your throat as he gets on top of you. You gasp as he takes you by surprise, but the shock lasts barely 5 seconds before you smirk.

You reach up as your lips find his, pulling him deeper into your mouth as you grab his hair. From the get go, it is passionate, and rough and messy, because both of you are left gasping for your breath- your cheeks rosy and your chest heaving. Deciding to tease him further, you bite his lip. He moans into your mouth, mumbling “brat.” Taking the opportunity, you slip your tongue into his mouth deepening the kiss, and it is so sloppy; neither of you willing to give up control. The heat between your legs grows because of the way his tongue fights with yours to take over, which has your head spinning.

“Channie” you moan, as you feel the hard press of his body against yours, the sound of your lips smacking together and your heavy gasping filling the room.

His hand reaches to lift your sweater slightly, fingers making contact with your bare skin as they keep moving upwards until they meet your lacy bra, delicately toying with the material.

“You wore this for me baby? Knew this was going to happen?”

All you do is giggle as you continue to kiss down his jaw, alternating between sucking and biting. But that doesn’t sit right with him, as his other hand wraps around your neck, squeezing just the right amount so that his grip is tight enough, but still allowing you to breathe, and suddenly you’re flooding your panties.

“This okay?” he asks, his eyes filled with concern and genuine worry, looking for any discomfort in your eyes, desperate for your approval to continue.

You nod, because it’s actually all you can do. He loosens the grip on your throat and begins to pull his hand away as he says “Fuck, if you want me to go on, you’re gonna have to answer me baby.”

You’re quick to bring his hand back on your neck, your head turning left and right in panic, “No! No, please I want it!” you say as he smirks at your desperate state.

“Yeah? Then answer me when I ask you a question baby. You wore this set for me pretty?”

“Just wanted you to notice me, pay attention to me.” You say between kisses.

“And you thought whoring yourself out would be the way to get my attention” he chuckles. “Thought it was a mistake when you flashed me, turns out baby’s just an attention whore.”

He gets off of you and the bed and a whine leaves your throat as he pulls you down by your ankles as your hips reach the foot of your bed in an instant as he begins taking off his glasses.

“No!” you protest. “don’t- don’t take them off, I like them.” You say timidly. He picks you up, flipping your previous position as he seats you on his lap, taking off his hoodie, and you cannot help but stare. You did not know he was SO built and buff, your eyes are practically eating him up as you feel drool building up in your mouth. Oh, you NEED to suck him off right now. And that’s pretty much all it takes for you as you get on your knees for him.

When you look up to him, there is hunger in his eyes, something you’ve never seen before, his gaze full of lust. He can’t remember how many times he’s pictured you like this, on your knees, so innocent, a pathetic expression on your face, waiting for him to give you your next instruction.

Those stupid man whore grey sweatpants, you need them off now.

You fumble with it’s band as you impatiently pull it down, revealing his Calvin Klein boxers, and you clearly have no time for this nonsense, rushing to pull his boxers down as well, all while he looks down on you, leaning back on the bed- hands on either side of him with a big cocky smirk on his face, because he cannot wait to see the next look on your face.

Your face: it’s so transparent, so revealing. It’s literally like you wear your heart on your sleeve. Everything you feel, you think, you want, it’s clear- plain as day on your face. And as soon as you pull his boxers off, there it is- pure amusement and shock, as his dick twitches at the sight of your wide doe eyes. You knew he was big, atleast that’s what you pictured in your nightly scenarios. But you did not know he was this big both in length and in girth as well, his angry tip staring at you, begging for your attention.

“Take your sweater off.” He demands. No pleas, no hesitance. An order. And who would you be to defy him? you teasingly take it off, all while a small smile adorns your lips as you throw the sweater somewhere on the floor alongside his hoodie.

You take his length in your hand, rubbing your thumb over his tip- spreading his pre-cum around it as your eyes go from doe like to those of a siren as they stare straight into his, spitting right on it seductively and oh, he thinks he’s in love. You pump it up and down and fuck- you can’t even completely wrap your hand around it, giving it a little squeeze as you go along, building the tension. But he doesn’t seem too happy about it as he sighs in annoyance. He’s sick of your teasing, because even after his multiple attempts to discipline you, you’ve decided to continue being a brat.

In the blink of an eye, he takes your hand off of him, grabs you by your jaw and squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and fore finger- the rest of the them lying on your jaw, forcing to you part your lips slightly.

“Do you trust me y/n?” he says softly, yet his voice dripping with dominance as you nod.

“Open your mouth, tongue out baby.”

And what he does next takes you by surprise, as he leans down, collecting a glob of spit in his mouth as it drips down from his mouth to yours, making you moan as you close your eyes, feeling the warm liquid on your tongue.

“Swallow.” he says as he caresses your jaw. And his wish is your command; you let out a loud moan as you feel it travel down your throat.

“Good girl. You’ll listen to me now, yeah? No more teasing. I’ve been holding back until now but if you don’t behave, I’ll have to fuck you like the whore you are. Better yet, I’ll eat you out, and get you so so close. I’ll be at it for hours baby, I have no place to be, but I won’t let you cum. So, tell me, you’re gonna be a good girl for me now?”

And all you can do is nod as he smirks, because now, he holds the power over you, and you want him to take over you. Don’t want to think about anything, just do whatever he says. And he can see that, see you fully slipping into subspace.

He holds his dick in his hand, and as your mouth chases his tip, he slaps it against your cheek. All he does is laugh, because you just look so pathetic under him. Tits spilling out of your see through pink lace bra, eyes on the brink of tears, fists balled up in your lap because he won’t let you touch him.

He grabs your hair in a makeshift ponytail and slaps his dick against your other cheek as he says “tap my thigh twice in you wanna stop, okay?” and finally rubs his tip against your lips, parting them immediately as you engulf it in your mouth, sucking on it as if it’s a popsicle, swirling your tongue all around it, making him groan.

Slowly, he pushes his dick in inch by inch until it hits the back of your throat, and its laughable, because half of it still can’t be wrapped around your tiny mouth even though your jaw is doing gymnastics to accommodate half of him and he lets out a loud moan due to the insane pleasure it gives him. Since he won’t let you move yet, enjoying the feeling of cockwarming your mouth too much, you drag your tongue up and down, making him hiss.

Finally, he decides to fuck your throat, sliding your mouth up and down his dick as if your mouth is just a fleshlight for him to use, making your eyes roll back. He starts slow, as to ease you in; but is quick to fasten his pace to meet his needs. But you want to do more, so your hands reach up to play with his balls, and oh does it take him by surprise. All he can do while fucking your mouth is mumble sweet nothings, praising you, telling you how good you’re being letting him use you like this. And his words are working, because at this point your slick is running down your thighs and your cunt is in a desperate need of attention, as you grind it against the heel of your foot and when you look up to him, you don’t think you’ve ever seen anything more beautiful. His glasses lay low on his nose as his head is thrown back in pleasure and his hair is messy, sticking to his forehead due to the sweat; yet his hand is precise is controlling your mouth by your hair. His buff chest heaving desperate for air as his ears and cheek are a pretty shade of pink for you.

Suddenly he looks down to meet your eyes staring at him in lust, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything hotter as he sees you grind against your foot pathetically all whilst he fucks your warm mouth. He can feel the vibration of your mouth as you moan around him, and he thinks he’s in heaven. You look so dirty, spit dribbling down your chin, pupils dilated and red with desire, tears streaming down your cheeks because of how deep he’s hitting it right now. He is just so close, but no way he doesn’t cum in your pussy today, so he pulls you off his dick as you welp, a string of spit connecting your lips to his tip.

“I’ll come in your mouth some other day baby, need to be in you right now.” He says responding to your cute pout as he pulls you up to sit on his lap, your legs on either side of his thigh once again.

His hands travel to your back to undo your bra in an instant as it’s thrown somewhere on the bed behind him. Immediately his mouth is attached to your hardened nipple as you let out a loud moaning, feeling his warm tongue on your cold skin.

“I’m so fucking sick of you parading around in this stupid excuse of a skirt that barely covers your ass y/n.” He says as his hands travel down and under your skirt, making contact with your dripping lace, running his fingers up and down. He can feel your slick on his own thighs.

“Oh? You’re already soaked, baby. But I haven’t even touched you yet, wanna tell me what got you so wet?” he says as he mocks you, still not taking his attention off your breasts, sucking them and marking them up with hickeys all around and all you can do is moan as you dig your nails into his back overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“You’re so sensitive, so responsive. I love it baby, so easy for me. Need you to answer me- what’s got you dripping?” he says as he finds your clothed clit, pressing hard against it over the lace.

He’s being so mean right you. The remnants of tears on your cheeks have barely dried up before you can feel yourself getting teary eyed already.

“You! Want you so bad channie! Been wet for you since you walked in the door.” You cry out desperately.

Finally, he stops teasing your covered pussy and pulls it to the side, inserting two of fingers with no warning making you scream out loud. He’s quick to press his thumb to your clit, flicking it as he pumps his fingers into you, all whilst he’s sucking on your tits. His pace is monstrous from the start, and he shows no signs of stopping as he continues to drive them in you, opening you up preparing you to take his big dick. All you can do is drop your head on his shoulder helplessly, taking what he gives you.

“Ah! So good Chan, so- so- fuck! Right there! Need you!” you say as he repeatedly hits your g-spot all while rubbing your clit.

You’ve lost all track of time. You’ve been so close to cumming ever since you saw him walk through your front door that even the slightest touch could get you to your high, and here Chan was, touching you right where you needed, enlightening all your senses.

“I’m about- gonna- gonna cum dino! Please, let me, oh- please let me cum!” you cry out loud, begging him as he pulls out his fingers in an instant and just like that you’re crying again, dropping your head in the crook of his neck.

“What, don’t cry baby.” He says, voice dripping with fake sympathy, because inside him he knows your tears turn him on even more. His hand reaches the small of your back as he caresses it, attempting to calm you down. “Want you to cum on my cock princess. Think you can do that, yeah? You promised you’d be a good girl for me.”

“I was- I was just so close.” You say timidly between your sniffles.

“It’s okay princess, I’ll make you cum real good on my cock.” He whispers, kissing you tenderly for the first time in the evening, and it makes your heart full, reminding you that in spite of everything, this is the same dino that you see in class every day, polite and sweet and beautiful; but you’re brought back to the present as he pulls away from you, shattering your illusion.

“You wanted my attention so bad y/n, you started it. So, you’re gonna take what you wanted- gonna have to ride me.” He says with a shit eating grin that just makes you so mad right now, but eager to give him what he asks for you get off your lap and begin to take off your skirt.

“Did I ask you to take it off? Still not behaving baby. Keep the skirt on; after all you made such a show of wearing them, wanna fuck you in it. Take off your panties.”

Once the pink garment is off, you sit on his lap again, as he slaps his dick against your poor swollen cunt, running his tip against your entrance.

“You know what to do right? It isn’t your first rodeo after all.” He says as he smiles.

God, he is so cocky. If you didn’t desperately need him in you, you would not put up with it for a second. (you would probably put up with it anyway)

You take his dick in your hand as you hover over it, your pussy clenching over nothing, begging to be filled by him as you insert the tip in him; and that alone is such a stretch for you, your legs might give up then and there. But you are anything but determined. Stubborn. Firm on proving yourself. So, you accept the stretch, stabilising yourself by placing one hand on his wide shoulder while you bottom out completely, burying himself into you in one go making him throw his head back and groan in pleasure as his hands reach out to hold your waist, not letting you escape his grasp.

Slowly but surely, you begin by grinding your hips against them, building up the tension as you try to maintain a steady pace; but dino doesn’t look amused, so you begin to move up and down on him, burying your freshly done nails into his shoulders. His hand moves down as you bounce on him, giving your ass a quick slap before finding it going under your skirt and rubbing your clit, making you gasp out.

“Fuck, lift up your skirt baby.” He says, and you comply- lifting up your skirt with one hand, whilst he continues to toy with your clit and you bounce up and down his dick, showing him the mess you both are making; and he loves it.

You’re so eager to please him, prove yourself to him as you continue to alternate between grinding and moving up and down; but the pleasure is SO overwhelming with his hand on your nub and you don’t think you can last. On top of that, you’ve been working so hard to maintain a steady pace for him, that your thighs are about to give out. And he sees that- sees your movement becoming sloppy and messy, your thighs shaking and your grip tightening on his shoulder.

“Tired, baby?”

Why is he such a tease. And why is he being so mean to you when he knows you’re totally spent. You think you’re going to cry for the third time in the night.

“You know, all you have to do is admit it. And I’ll take over. You know you want me to. I can make you feel so good baby, hit all the right spots and you don’t have to lift a finger.” He whispers in your ear before slapping your ass again as he lifts his hips to meet yours in a sharp thrust, showing you how much better he can make you feel.

“I- I- tired. I’m tired channie! Thighs hurt. P- please!” you say between hiccups as he keeps thrusting into you from beneath.

That’s all he needs to hear, before he’s flipping you on your back without taking himself out of you, pressing a kiss to your lips as he begins to actually fuck you. His hands roam all over you as if he’s trying to memorise every curve and dip. He’s thrusting into you with such a force your tits bounce back and forth with every drive of his hips into you while he mumbles pretty words in your ears.

“Pussy so good baby, absolutely squeezing me. Can’t believe you were letting those stupid guys have this while I was right there. Could’ve made you feel this good all this time. Fuck! Always wanted to bend you over the desk whenever you wore those stupid skirts to class. You know, everyone could see you baby. See how much needy you were. You’re probably just too much a slut to care, no?”

His mouth reaches down to bite your nipple, where you’re already so sensitive that you can’t help but cry out. You look so dumb for his cock right now, your nails are absolutely obliterating his back as your legs wrap around him not letting him go, a chant of his name leaving your lips with each of his movement. All you can hear is the sound of his balls slapping against you and your screams. You’re pretty sure you’ll get complaints from your neighbour tomorrow but who cares; he’s just too good. His thrusts get deeper yet sloppier as you feel him reach between your sweaty bodies and rub your clit in an attempt to get you closer.

“Fuck! Gonna cum baby. Are you close?”

“Yes! Channie fuck, love- love your dick so much! So big, need- I’m almost there!”

And that’s all the motivation he needs before he picks up his pace again, angling himself to hit you exactly at the spot that makes you scream, and before you know it, you feel tears streaming down your face again because of the overstimulation.

“Chan! Gonna cum! Please, please- fuck right there, please wanna cum!”

“Where do you want me princess?”

“In! In me, wanna feel you in me, fill me up! Please, need it in me!” you babble.

And that is all it takes for you to let go. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with a loud whine as your nails dig into him deeper, your back arching- the pleasure taking over you as you see stars in front of your eyes, screaming his name over and over again. It’s like you’re floating- because your body feels numb and completely spent. He feels you clenching so much around his cock as you cum, it’s like you’re milking him, before he’s filling you up full of him too, reaching his high, and he cannot stop. Even after you’re done, you’re still rhythmically squeezing him as he doesn’t stop coming in you. You feel him warm in you, and you honestly never want him to pull out, but unfortunately, he does- leaving you empty as his essence begins to spill out of you.

He gets between your legs, watching a mixture of your cum dripping out of you, admiring his work before he’s collecting it in his fingers, tracing your swollen sensitive centre as he comes up to you, and inserting his fingers in your mouth, while he kisses your tears. You can taste him and yourself on your tongue as you close your eyes, swirling your tongue around his fingers. The sight is so hot to him, his dick twitches against you once again before he’s pulling his fingers out and gently kissing you, as he leaves your bed to bring you a towel.

He lies besides you after he cleans you up as you turn you face each other.

“Sorry if I was too rough, got carried away a bit.” He says as you lay your head on his arm and run your hand through his hair.

“You were so good, I think I need to be a little bitchy again for you to put me in my place.” You say as you kiss him, smiling against his lips.

[astrinde]

Zewu-jun(e), day 10.

In the novel, Lan Xichen was ranked first among the handsomest cultivators in the Clans.

When I first read that assessment, I had several questions. For example, how were the data for these rankings collected and analysed? Was there a control group of unlovely people against which to compare the beauties? Where were the findings published? To what confidence interval were the results reported? Was anything peer-reviewed?

Then I saw this image, and I have no further fucking questions.

[jordiemeow]

i love ur preacher’s daughter x dodge! thinking about them doing everything *but* actual sex cause it’s “not a sin” that way

warnings: smut, 18+, f!receiving oral, handjob, everything but fucking tbh, mentions of religious guilt, reader watches him touch himself, a little bit of manipulation...

notes: not proofread i’m nauseous and horny ab cowboys so here x

Dodge knew what he was getting into when he started dating you. That sweet girl that blushes and sputters when he suggests anything more than a kiss. Even a peck on the mouth had your cheeks hot to the touch and eyes averted at the start of your relationship.

But you're getting there. Or rather... he's getting there. Slowly but surely, you're growing more receptive to his subtle demands for more. You stop protesting when his tongue slips into your mouth, or his hand slides a little too far up your skirt. No more making excuses to go when your goodnight kiss in his truck gets a little too heated.

He takes it as his sign to push a little further. As far as your daddy knows, you're at Bible study with your friends. Not sitting with your knees planted on either side of Dodge, his tongue exploring the warm cavern of your mouth as his hands massage up and down the back of your thighs under your dress. There's a movie playing from his TV—Pride and Prejudice borrowed from his sister, because you dubbed the rest of the DVD sets under his bed 'too inappropriate.' Bless your poor little heart.

It's clearly long forgotten. The pair of you are more focused on swallowing each other's soft moans to care about the quartet playing behind you. And then, suddenly, you feel a finger glide over the front of your white underwear, and you jolt forward, forehead bumping against his.

"D-Dodge—"

He hardly flinches at the collision, smiling so innocently at you that you're almost convinced it never happened. "What?"

"You can't—" You take a moment to collect yourself. Swallow thickly. "Too much."

"Why?" His head tilts.

"Because it's a sin," you reply, as if he's stupid. "You can't touch me there. The... the good Lord's watchin'!"

"He watches everything else we do. Why's this any different?"

He has to swallow back a laugh when he watches the way your brows pinch together as you think that through. Logic is very hard to come by when his hand is still resting on the inside of your thigh.

"Well, it's almost—" You pause, lowering your voice to a hushed whisper, "—sex."

Dodge smiles. How cute.

"It's not sex, sweetheart," he says, mimicking your hushed tone. His other hand moves up to pet the back of your head as if to console you. "Don't count unless there's penetration."

You eye him warily. "What do you mean?"

"Well, what's the Bible say about it? No sex without intention to procreate 'n' all that bullshit?" He ignores your pout at the way you call the teachings bullshit. "Can't even be sex if my cock—"

"Dodge."

"What else am I supposed to call it?"

"Just don't say it at all!"

He sighs. Starts over again. "What I'm tryin' to say is that a little bit of touching ain't a sin. No penetration. Not even like our..." He pauses to search for the most appropriate word he can think of. "Parts... will be touchin'."

You frown a little, mulling that over in your head. Well, it makes sense to a certain extent. Besides, if touching in any capacity is a sin, you're already going straight to Hell for how many times he's had a calloused hand cupping your breast or squeezing your ass. It still just seems like a little much though...

"But the sin is lust, not the actual— oh—"

His fingers brush over you again, and the innocent smile from earlier isn't so innocent anymore when you meet his eyes. "Stop worryin' your pretty little head, darlin'. I promise you it's not a sin. Right hand up to God." Funny, considering his right hand is currently the one snuck under your dress and touching your clothed cunt.

You try again. "But Dodge—"

"But what?" He says, fingers dragging back and forth against you in a way that has your thighs pressing together instinctively. "You don't trust me?"

You shake your head. "No, no, I trust you."

He hums. "So, what, you don't want it? Is that it?"

The truth is, you do want it. He's hardly doing more than lazily rubbing you through your panties and there's already an unfamiliar stirring in your gut. Like the build-up of something that could be absolutely explosive. The Big Bang, your brain traitorously supplies. Now you feel even worse. You've never even tried to touch yourself before—considered it, sure, but any time your hand ended up toying with the inseam of your sleep shorts it was quick to retract. You've had to apologise to the picture of Mary overlooking your bed a few times for the almost-slips.

"... No," you lie, straight through your teeth.

But he laughs. He's no idiot. He can see the way your gaze is fixed on his forehead rather than his eyes. Can feel the way your thighs clench tighter with each drag of his fingers, your cunt pulsing a little too eagerly for someone who doesn't want this. "No?" He repeats mockingly. His mouth moves to hover right by your ear, and you shiver at the warm puff of air against it. "Then why are you so wet?"

"Well, that's... that's natural!" You insist weakly.

"Is it?" He muses. "You always walk around with your panties damper than a horse's back on a summer's day?"

You wither under the amused look he gives you. You know he's just being an ass now. But there's a glint in his eyes—not quite mischief, something a little darker than that. Something that makes any thoughts of the fiery depths turn to mush.

"... Promise it's not a sin?" You ask tentatively.

Dodge offers you the pinky of his other hand, and the one between your legs stills for just a moment. Your lip catches between your teeth, indenting the soft flesh as you weigh up the truth behind his words. Deep down, a part of you knows that he's just bullshitting you to get his way. You could be about to commit the most heinous sin imaginable and he wouldn't give two shits.

... But then his hand starts back up again, and before you know it, your pinky is looped through his.

It doesn't take long before your dress is hitched up and you're on your back, hair spilling over his pillow. Your panties are discarded somewhere on the floor, a leg hooked over his shoulder as his mouth laps at your sensitive parts. What started as kitten licks and gentle circles of his fingers quickly turned into something else.

Now you feel as if he's trying to devour you.

"S’that good, sweetheart? Feel nice?"

"Nggghh, yeah. Oh my goodness—"

There's been a few times where he's been tempted to slip a finger in. Ease you open, feel the way you tighten around his digits when you climax for the first time. But he'd said no penetration, and Dodge has a feeling you'd be on his ass about semantics. He'll work you up to that eventually, he's sure of it.

So he sticks to working you over with his mouth. Eagerly lapping up the sweet juices your cunt provides him with every time his thumb flicks over your clit just right, his other hand threaded through one of your own. Thumb reassuringly rubbing over the back of your knuckles despite the faster pace his other hand is taking.

And despite the fact his mouth is mostly occupied, he doesn’t stop talking you through it the entire time. "Just like that, angel. Keep makin’ those pretty sounds for me. Y’sound so sweet. Taste so sweet."

Or he tuts. "Keep your legs open. That’s it, uh huh. That’s my girl."

A groan this time. "Fuck, can’t believe I waited so long to do this. S’heavenly, baby."

Neither of you even notice the credits of the movie rolling. All you can hear is your own keening moans and the lewd sound of his tongue lapping at your pussy. The feeling is foreign, unfamiliar, but the peak of ecstasy you're approaching has you thinking life in eternal Hell might not be so bad if this is what you get to experience down there.

That thought is quickly cut off when your orgasm crashes over you. Sudden, overwhelming, your back arching up off the bed as your entire body jolts with pleasure. You swear you black out for a minute, and he takes great pleasure in the way your lashes flutter and your eyes roll back.

The greatest part of all is the cry you let out. "Yes, Dodge, God, yes, yes, yes!" It's blasphemous, the way you worship both him and the Lord in one breath.

He works you through it diligently. Not a drop goes to waste, and he's still moaning against you when your own whimpers die down. When he's fully sated and some of the trembling in your body has subsided, a firm kiss is placed against your inner thigh before he rises back up your body to tuck your hair behind your ear.

All you can manage is a dopey smile, and he grins crookedly. "Worth it?"

"I think so," you say breathlessly.

When you drop to your knees by your bed that night, Rosary beads threaded through your fingers and head bowed, you apologise profusely. But you haven't been smote down yet, maybe you'll be okay.

... Maybe.

It becomes a bit of a routine after that. Whether it's in his truck with your leg hitched up on the dashboard or when he has the house alone, Dodge just can't get enough of eating you out. And every time, you go back to pretending it never happened. You're still daddy's little angel.

There's a pleasant buzz running through your body as Dodge tugs your underwear back up for you, looking just as smug as ever. Dimpled smile, chin still slick with your wetness, as he eases your skirt back down for you. One would think it'd get less intense over time... but God, he has your toes curling and legs trembling each time his mouth descends on your cunt.

"Y'know," he starts, sitting up on his knees and giving your dishevelled state an approving once-over. "I think I might go a lil' insane if I don't get some attention of my own."

It's enough to give you pause. Fair enough—he's spent the last few weeks nestled between your folds and never once asked you to return the favour. But you've never touched a man like that before.

He catches your hesitation. Reaches out to thumb at your cheek, gaze softening a little. "Ain't gotta do nothing, sweetheart. But the blue balls are killin' me."

Blue balls. You almost roll your eyes. "So... what, then?" You ask, shifting to sit up as your fingers curling into the soft fabric in your lap.

He doesn't reply right away. Tilts his head, gauges your expression. "Can I show you? Won't take much. You ain't gotta touch me or nothin'."

Don't even have to touch him... you cast a cursory glance to his door, even though there's nobody home. Your lip is already bitten raw from stifling sounds all evening, but you're back to biting at it.

"Okay."

"Okay?" His eyes light up. He leans forward, a hand braced on your knee. "You sure?"

"Doesn't count if there's no penetration," you parrot the words he told you weeks ago. He smiles. "And... you said I don't have to do anything, right? Bit of watchin' can't hurt."

"Just lookin'," he affirms. For now, anyways.

His hand leaves your thigh to undo the buckle of his jeans, and your eyes follow the movement. There's a lump in your throat and you know you're going to be repenting for this one tonight. Maybe it's time to find some other church to confess at. Certainly not your father's, but you need to get this off your chest somewhere.

His jeans are pulled open, the tension easing off the bulge that seems to be straining there every time he gets his mouth on you. It doesn't take much for his cock to be freed, jeans and boxers down just enough to put him on display.

You swallow. You're definitely going to Hell.

You've seen pictures of them in passing. Dicks, cocks, penises. Whatever vile name the youth has come up with these days. The kind of pictures shared between a few girls at a sleepover, or a cock shown during a movie your father wouldn't approve of you watching. You've never been close enough to see one like this, though. Aching and leaking under the weight of your darkened eyes.

He takes note of your expression. The lust mixing with guilt.

"A little different in person, huh? No camera lenses?" He teases.

"Dodge, shut up. Just... just get on with it, please."

He rolls his eyes but obliges. Can't have you suddenly changing your mind because he gets a bit too cheeky. A firm hand wraps around him, and he begins to stroke himself. Slowly at first, watching the way your lips are parted and the breaths you take seem sharper. The quick rise and fall of your chest doesn't go unnoticed to him.

Feels real fuckin' good to be watched, though. Each jerk of his palm smears pre-cum down his throbbing length, the slick slide obscenely loud in the quiet of his bedroom. A low moan escapes him. Rough, completely unrestrained, so loud it almost makes you jump.

Your gaze snaps up to his face to watch the way his brow pinches with pleasure. You've never seen him like this—is this how you look when he's between your legs? The thought makes you flush. God. He's pretty like this, head tilted back and eyes half-lidded as he watches you absorb every second of his pleasure like it's your own. It's beautiful. It's wonderful. Breath-taking, staggering, perfect—

Sacrilege. Blasphemous. Impious.

You swallow thickly, but you can't take your eyes away.

"You, uh, sure you don't wanna get in on this?" He asks, his voice rough in a way you've never heard before. You find your thighs clenching again as you look back down to the filthy way he's started to fuck up into his fist.

"Dodge."

"What?" He asks innocently, a breathy note to his words. "I'll let you in, sweetheart. Just a little touch. Wouldn't have to do nothin'. Let me do all the heavy-liftin', eh?"

You shouldn't. You've done enough sinning for a lifetime over the last few weeks. Cried yourself to sleep a few times, too. And yet you go against every value that's been instilled with you for years to just touch.

A tentative little brush of your fingers against the underside. It's careful, hesitant and soft. His breath grows ragged. "That ain't so bad, is it?"

You shake your head. "And the... the white stuff. That's a good thing, right?"

"Real good," he laughs. He can feel himself tensing up; you aren't doing much to help, not physically, but with the pressure of his own hand and the way your eyes are on him... Lord, he won't be lasting much longer.

There's a pretty pink flush to his cheeks now. Eyelashes fluttering with each heavy breath, and the way his neck is exposed is giving you the strangest desire to lean in and kiss it. Bruise it, even. Your eyes avert guiltily, hand back in the safety of your lap.

"No, no, no. C'mon. Eyes on me."

"I can't, this is—"

"Please," he rasps. The hint of desperation catches you by surprise. "Want you to see it happen."

Heavenly father, please forgive me. Your eyes are on him again, watching the way his hips lift off the bed. It creaks with each movement, each glide of his hand down his cock. And that little flicker of scrupulosity in your eyes is what sends him over the edge.

"Fuck, yeah, I'm gonna— ah, ah, ah—" His cock pulses, white ropes coating his hand and the hem of his shirt. Face contorted in pleasure, eyes screwed shut as he makes a sound you've never heard from him before.

A whine.

You shuffle back a little—disgusted or intrigued by the sight of the cum spilling out of him, you aren't sure. But you're completely enraptured by the look on his face and the gasps that escape his parted lips. The only sound in the room for a few moments is his heavy breathing as he strokes lazily through the last of his orgasm, pleasure still buzzing faintly through him.

And when your eyes finally meet, you both laugh. Dodge's is hoarse. Yours is a little tentative. And then your sides are shaking and eyes twinkling. God, you can't believe that just happened.

"That's never happening again," you tell him. He grins, like he knows you're lying.

You are. You do it again. And again, until you're bold enough to be the one doing the stroking. It's only a matter of time before his little no penetration excuse goes out the window.

taglist: @gracelynnx @tacobacoyeet @blastzachilles @cha11engers @magicalmiserybore @newrochellechallenger2019 @coolgrl111 @artspats @peachyparkerr @stanart4clearskin @misswrldd @kaalxpsia @downtwngrl @s0ftcobra @strfallz @dazedandconfusedlvr @turnerrst @m4lodr4ma @artdonaldsonmalewife @challengersism @elsieblogs @artstennisracket

[mrsjjongstby]

P: Vampire!Sunghoon x Time-travel Scientist!Reader

Warnings: Mentions on biting, blood, feeding scenes, mentions of death, dissapearance, time travelling, yearning, kissing, physical touch, possesiveness, soft angst, happy ending!

Synopsis: In 2090, you're sent back in time to study a village that vanished without explanation. There, you met him. You weren't supposed to fall in love with him. But you did, with a vampire. And when time ran out, you left — believing that story had ended. Until one night, back in the future, he finds you. He hasn’t aged. And he never stopped waiting.

Wordcount: 11.8k

June 22, 2090. 

The hum of the machines never stopped in sector 7. 

Even at 3:27 in the evening, the corridors filled with guards, the bright white light pulsing against the huge glass doors. Surveillance cameras present every nook and crook of the room with security drones flying silently overhead, scanning every face, every badge, every retinal print.  

There were no windows in this part of the KRONEX institute- no clocks, no noise from the outside world. Time, here, was studied, twisted, and sometimes... broken. 

You adjusted the collar of your lab coat, feeling the slight static charge settling against your skin. Another night. Another sequence calibration.  

You were the lead scientist for KRONEX's Temporal Division, and one of only five globally certified operators with direct clearance to manipulate raw time.  

Not because you are lucky- but because you are good- really good at what you do.  

"You are early." Said a familiar voice.  

You turned around to see Taehyun, hands in his lab coat pockets, glasses slightly askew. He always arrived fashionably five minutes late, so this was new.  

"So are you," you say smirking.  

"Someone write it in the history."  

He chuckled, stepping beside you as the biometric scanner opened the reinforced glass doors to Lab room Delta- 12. 

Inside, your team was already gathered,  

Mira, the chronophysics analyst, stood at her console with her usual lip balm which she applies ever minute, tapping at the interface like it owned her something.  

Yuvi, head of atmospheric translation, stayed near the back, mumbling data projections to herself. 

Jungwon, the youngest, but sharp as hell, greeted you with the usual, two fingered salute from behind the drone mapping panel.  

"Took you long enough." Mira muttered without looking up. 

"You're welcome for the coffee I brought you last time." You say as you head to the central table.  

Everyone quickly followed you, sitting around the table. 

You five are the specialized high qualification scientists who got chosen to be the people handling lab delta- 12. Coming from different backgrounds, having same interests and working in cases together for years made your guys' bond unbreakable.  

You five are highly qualified specialists chosen to operate Lab Delta-12. Coming from different backgrounds but sharing the same passion, you've worked on countless cases together over the years — and that’s made your bond unbreakable. 

The door opened, interrupting your casual talks.  

In walked, Dr. Han Myung-sik— head of KRONAX, the man who'd once published a paper predicting time dilation six years before it was observed in real data. His face, though aged, was unreadable— eyes sharp beneath the thick silver eyebrows.  

No one spoke. You all stood up immediately.  

"Sit," he said. "This will be quick."  

The doors sealed shut behind him. A cold hum flickered through the room as he turned on the internal projector.  

Five floating files appeared above the surface. Each labeled, RED CASE.  

"Your group— delta 12 is chosen for this matter." Dr.Han said quietly.  

You could feel the weight of his words which he's about to say.

"We've uncovered five unresolved incidents. Each linked to potentially an unnatural shift in recorded time."  

"These aren't ripples," he continued.  

"These are fractures. Events that don't line up with any known temporal logic. People disappeared, memories vanished, objects never aged and yet—"  

He tapped the interface. The room dimmed, and each of your profiles synced to a case file. 

"You are the only ones qualified to investigate." 

He started pacing slowly.  

"Yuvi. You're being sent to March 2311, Seoul; right before the blackout that erased six months of global data records. You'll observe the internal tech culture and corporate rivalry."  

Yuvi blinked, nodding quietly, already calculating her cover identity.  

"Mira."  

He turned to her.  

"Your case is year 1652, Gyeongju province. A palace scribble who reportedly recorded a 'sky-born woman of light' before his records were seized. The ink used in his account was... not of this earth.” 

Mira grinned. "Finally, something fun."  

"Jungwon. Taehyun. You'll split into Northern territories. Parallel years, overlapping reports. Two villages with identical names, but only one should exist."  

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, "Are we crossing time lines? "  

"Just brushing," Dr.Han replied. "Do not stay longer than you have to."

Then, he turned to you.  

"And you."  

The room stilled.  

"Your case is the most weird one."  

A red dot expanded above the table. 

Satellite data. Korean countryside. Grainy and quiet. 

"A village in 2019 – known to exist, documented, populated and functioning." "Then, it disappeared. Not physically or violently. Just... gone. All the databases rewrote themselves. The people who lived there vanished as if they were never even existed— never even born." "Your job is to go there, undercover. Blend in. Find the root event. Identify the root autonomy and leave before it happens."  

Your fingers clenched lightly under the table. You stared at the red dot on the map.  

2019.  

A quiet time. A dangerous one — because it was still close enough to modern history to be familiar. Easy to slip up. Easy to stay too long.  

"Do we suspect temporal interference?"  

You asked as you shifted your gaze from the red dot to his eyes. Dr.Han meets your eyes. "We suspect something far worse. Something that doesn't belong in any time."  

The files flickered red again. "You'll begin calibration tonight. You jump within 750 hours. That is one month. Use your time wisely."  

As he turned to leave, he paused just once— right by the door.  

"And one more thing," he said without looking back.  "Don't fall in love with the timeline. It doesn't love you back."  

With that, he was gone. The table darkens. The lights return. Yuvi exhales. Mira cracks her knuckles and Jungwon leans forward.  

"2019 huh?" Taehyun mutters beside you. "Better pack your sarcasm and Emo clothes."  

You don't respond. You just stare at the red dot again. 

The village. Gone from memory. Gone from maps. But waiting for you all the same.  

One month. 

And only one day to finish prepping, calibrating your minds, bodies, and identities before entering a timeline that wouldn’t even recognize your names. You sat in the Sim Room, surrounded by floating holoscreens of early-2010s Korea. Architecture. Clothing. Language slang. Historical emotional markers. It was all too recent. Too real. 

Mira was curled on a bench nearby, watching 1600s scrollwork with a look that said I’d rather wing it. Taehyun was arguing with an AI over inconsistency in his destination’s documentation. Again. Jungwon? Already finished his prep module and was now trying to teach Mira how to drink from a metal bottle while upside down. 

“You’re going to the past, not space,” she said, annoyed but smiling.  “Still useful if I end up in a well,” Jungwon shrugged. You blinked away the holograms and stood, stretching out your arms. 

“This doesn’t feel like prep,” Yuvi murmured, joining you. “It feels like goodbye.” 

You didn’t answer.  

She studied you, thoughtful. “You okay with your timeline?”  “2019 is barely the past,” you said. “Feels like I could bump into my parents if I’m not careful.”  “Yeah, but yours is the haunted village,” Mira called. “Mine is just a floating woman in the sky.” 

“You’re the floating woman,” Jungwon muttered under his breath. She chucked a protein chip at him while he hid behind you, holding your shoulders as if his body isn't larger than yours.  

“Alright,” Taehyun said, glancing around. “Final dinner tonight in the Commons? Before the serious lockdown begins?”  “Only if you don’t bring another slide presentation to the table,” Mira groaned. 

“I make no promises.”  You smiled — small, but genuine 

And as the others drifted out of the room, chattering, playfully teasing, you lingered a moment longer — looking up at the blinking red timestamp over the Sim Door. 

30:00:00:00  DAYS : HOURS : MINUTES: SECONDS  JUMP 

You were the first one in the bay. The air smelled sterile, like metal and ionized mist. The chamber was massive — white, cold, humming. Five jump pods lined the back wall, each glowing faint blue with individual temporal calibration. 

The boots of your suit clicked softly as you walked, every step echoing louder than your breath. The fabric hugged your body like skin, the material pressure-sealed and embedded with auto-adaptive climate tech. Your mind was a storm beneath the still surface — years of training colliding with something much quieter. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” came Taehyun’s voice from behind. You turned. He looked exhausted, but composed — the kind of man who smiled with his mouth but not his eyes. “Didn’t try,” you replied simply. 

He nodded, stepping beside you, with his arm around your shoulder. You both looked at the pods in silence. 

One for each of you. One jump. One direction.  No promises of coming back the same. 

Soon after, Yuvi arrived — hair tied, suit zipped, clutching a small, folded piece of paper in her hand. A name, probably. A reminder of something real. Mira strolled in with a grin too bright to be sincere. “Guess it’s finally happening,” she said, snapping her gum, though her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted her suit cuffs. 

Jungwon came last, walking like he was on his way to a vacation. Humming. But you saw the tension in his knuckles as he flexed them once, twice. Dr. Han entered from the upper level, flanked by three silent technicians and a console assistant holding the jump sequence tablet. 

“Final clearances have been locked in,” he announced, voice loud across the bay. “You have fifteen minutes.” 

One by one, your mission drives were inserted into the small ports at your pod stations. The information would sync once you landed in your time period — personalized cover stories, forged credentials, emergency kill phrases. 

“I’ll see you all again,” Jungwon said, softer now, eyes scanning the rest of you. “In whatever version of time we land in. 

“Bring back something cool,” Mira added. “Like a comet or an alien.”  “Or your soul intact,” Yuvi muttered, mostly to herself. You looked around. 

These people — their lives had been laced into yours for years. Work. Sleep. Discover. Repeat. The way your names felt normal together. The easy sarcasm. The shared silence in moments like this. You didn’t know what it would be like without them.  Maybe you weren’t meant to know. Your pod blinked green. Final sequence activated. 

You stood in front of it, heart slamming once, sharply, against your ribs. 

“You’ll be inserted at 03:12 AM, August 9th, 2019,” Dr. Han said beside you. “Just outside the village’s boundary. Our records end there. No satellite returns after that date. No digital trails. Just fog.” 

You nodded. 

“And remember,” he added, “observe, record, don’t interfere.” He paused. “And don’t stay longer than you have to.” You stepped into the pod. The door hissed closed behind you. Inside: darkness. Soft blue lights blinked around your headrest. A countdown began in the corner. 

00:00:10  00:00:09  00:00:08...  Your breathing slowed. Fingers tight on the seat grips.  00:00:03  00:00:02...  You thought of nothing.  00:00:01  ENGAGING TEMPORAL LAUNCH. 

Everything went white. 

You woke up choking on fog. 

Your knees hit grass first, body staggering out of the collapsed time pod buried beneath undergrowth. The pod disintegrated on schedule — technology melted into mist the second your boots touched this era. You stood slowly, the chill biting through your fabricated 2010s-era jacket. A navy hoodie. Worn boots. Phone model synced to local time tech. Fake ID in your pocket. History-approved.  And ahead of you — trees. Low mist curling over quiet fields. One winding road in the dark. 

“03:14,” you whispered, checking the time. You started walking. It didn’t take long to reach the village. Just a few winding turns along cracked pavement and flickering streetlamps — too dim for a place this small. It looked normal at first glance. Houses with tiled roofs. Wind chimes. A distant dog barking. But the silence? Too heavy. Too complete. Not a single radio. Not one human voice. 

You followed the map projection in your eye lens. Your identity here: transfer student, staying with a distant relative for the summer before university. Your cover was clean. “Blend in. Observe. Don’t interfere.” Dr. Han’s words echoed. 

You reached the village center. A bakery. A post office. A small clinic. It was beautiful — in a nostalgic, sleepy sort of way. You spotted an inn. Two stories. Wooden steps. A soft yellow porch light still glowing. You knocked once. A moment later, an older woman opened the door, eyes squinting at your unfamiliar face. 

“Ah… you must be the niece, right? From Seoul?” You smiled, polite. "Yes, ma’am.”  “Room’s upstairs. Already made it up for you.”  With that, you leave to your room. 

August 10, 2019.

The village was quieter in the morning. Not dead. Just... slow. 

You walked past the corner bakery — the one that smelled like burnt sugar and citrus. Past a row of mailboxes that hadn’t been touched in a week. You weren’t sure if people here hated bills or just trusted too easily. Notebook in your jacket. Identity chip syncing your steps to the research log in your neural band. 

Day 2.  Civilian behavior: consistent.  Average activity start time: 6:53 AM  No sign of temporal noise. No anomalies. 

You smiled and bowed slightly to an old man sweeping the steps outside a shop. He gave you a nod in return. Eyes kind, but faintly puzzled — like he couldn’t remember when you arrived, but accepted you anyway. That was the first pattern you noticed. People here forgot details fast. But nothing big enough to ring alarms. Just enough to feel like déjà vu. 

You took a seat on the raised edge of a well in the town center, glancing down at the still water.  Your eye-lens scanned your surroundings. Kids biking. A woman hanging sheets in perfect rows. Market stalls setting up. 

Everything looked normal. Back at the inn, the old woman handed you a basket. 

“Bread for the east field home. The family that lives up near the woods. They get their supplies late.” 

“East field?” you asked, trying to remember the map. 

“Take the long path. The house is old, but someone’s always there.” 

“Someone?” 

She nodded. “A quiet boy. Rarely speaks. Keeps to himself. Been around longer than most here.” 

You didn’t ask more. Just took the basket and walked. And as you stepped onto the eastern trail, into the trees and shifting light… You didn’t know yet that you were walking toward the beginning. Of the end. 

The path to the east house was longer than expected. 

Thick trees bent overhead like old, quiet watchers. The air here was different — cooler, touched with something metallic. You adjusted the basket in your hands. You finally reached the gate — rusted iron, half open. A path lined with overgrown grass stretched up to a traditional hanok-style house. Wooden. Quiet. Heavy with stillness. 

You stepped through, gently. No animals. No birds. Just that strange silence again. You knocked once. Then twice. No answer. You were about to leave when the door creaked open. And there he was. 

He looked like he didn’t belong in 2019. Or any year. 

Dressed simply — white cotton shirt, black slacks, sleeves slightly rolled up. But there was something... too elegant about the way he held the door. Something slow and precise. Still. His eyes — dark, unfathomable — landed on yours. 

For a full second, he didn’t say a word. Neither did you. “Delivery,” you said softly, lifting the basket. 

“Right,” he replied after a pause, voice smooth, almost melodic. “They said you’d be coming.” 

You held the basket out, but he didn’t take it immediately. Instead, he studied you. Not rudely. Not even intently. Just... curiously. Like a puzzle he couldn’t quite read. Or a scent he wasn’t supposed to follow. The moment you stepped through the trees, he felt it. The beat beneath your skin. The warmth. Your blood had a scent — not strong, not desperate like others. 

Sweet. Calming. Clean. He hadn’t fed in days. But you made the ache stir. “You live here alone?” you asked. 

He nodded. “For a while now.” 

“It’s beautiful.” 

He didn’t smile. But he didn’t look away. 

“Most people say it’s empty.” 

You tilted your head. “Are you?” 

That made something shift in his gaze — not amusement exactly, but the ghost of something near it. “Not today,” he said finally. 

He took the basket, fingers brushing yours for just half a second. His skin was cool. Not cold. But noticeably not warm. “Thank you,” he said, stepping back. “Be careful going back. The light fades fast out here.” 

You turned to leave, but your instincts tugged once. “What’s your name?” you asked over your shoulder. 

A pause. 

“Sunghoon,” he said quietly. 

You nodded once. “I’m Y/N.” Another pause. “I know,” he said. 

And then the door closed. As you walked back down the path, heart steady but hands tingling from where his touched yours, you couldn’t shake one thing: There had been no heartbeat behind that door. Just silence. You don’t notice someone- Sunghoon, watching you from his window as you walk back. 

And that, that night few people go missing because Sunghoon, couldn’t handle his hunger for blood. Not when he was reminded of how desperate he was to taste something sweet- something pure like your blood- like you. He can’t bite you, not yet. So, he resorted to his usual way, biting the villagers. One by one.  

It was quiete big village when Sunghoon first step foot in there. 2010. The year Sunghoon decided to enter into the huge village, leaving behind memories of his previous life- the one where everyone treated him like the monster he was. He didn’t like it one bit. So? He ended it. Bit and killed everyone who called him a monster.  

Leaving behind memories and people wasn’t new to him. He’s been like that since he was turned- since 527 years. It's what he’s best at other than sucking peoples’ blood. Having spent many years on this planet made him discard unwanted memories for good.  

And maybe that’s why he never truly loved anyone. It’s not because he isn’t capable of it. It's because he knows that they won't stick around. Not when they find out what he is, not when they leave this world entirely. Also, because, he never truly found someone who made him feel things. Feel things which are foreign to him- Desire.  

Desire for blood? Thats more like filling his hunger. Desire is what he felt when he saw you. If you ever told Sunghoon that he’d yearn for a girl he met once, he’d scoff, shaking his head. That can never happen, not when he's been on this earth for more than 500 years. He knows how to control his feelings- it was easy for him because he didn't have any feelings in the first place.  

But why is that the moment he saw you, heard you- your hearbeat, your blood pulsing in your throat, smelled the scent of you, he wanted to make you his?  

Its funny, really. This whatever weird feeling he has in his stomach is new to him. Perhaps he’s hungry for your blood? No. He’s hungry for you.  

You are here to find out how the village disappeared. Maybe you do find out that he’s the reason for the mass disappearance. But will your heart obey to leave behind everything that you've uncovered here? Leave behind someone, who is the sole reason why the disappearance happened in the first place? 

Only the future holds the answer. Maybe the present? You truly don't know, not when the time’s twisted and you are spiralling in it. 

August 14, 2019. 

You weren’t planning to run into him again. You were just taking the trail by the lake. Collecting audio samples. Watching people prep for the lantern festival — all smiles and paper crafts, sunlight catching on water like glass. But then there he was. Standing near the edge of the hill that overlooked the lake. Not moving. Just… watching it. Like the water itself had said something only he could hear. 

You almost didn’t say anything. But he turned to you first. 

“You walk this path often?” 

His voice was still soft. Still slow. Like everything he said had already passed through a hundred filters before reaching you. 

“Not really,” you said, stepping closer. “But it’s quiet. Good for thinking.” 

“Thinking,” he echoed, like it was a foreign word. “You do that a lot?” 

You smiled. “Occupational hazard.” 

“Ah,” he said. “Let me guess. You’re a writer.” 

“Wrong.” 

“A scientist?” 

You blinked. A beat too long. 

“Why that guess?” 

“Your eyes,” he said. 

“What about them?” 

“They look like they’re always dissecting things. Even me.” 

He turned back to the lake after that, leaving your thoughts spiraling slightly behind him. The sun was dipping lower, casting light through the trees. A warm breeze stirred the ends of your hair, and for once, you didn’t feel like recording anything. Just being here. 

“Why do you live so far from the village?” you asked. 

“They forget me better this way.” 

You frowned. “That’s sad.” 

“Not really.” 

“When people forget you… you stop needing to prove you exist.” 

You turned to him then — not just listening but really seeing him. The distance in his eyes. The calm sadness he wore like second skin. 

“You don’t want to be remembered?” 

“I didn’t say that,” he replied. “I just don’t mind being forgotten.” 

A few kids laughed somewhere nearby, running with paper lanterns. You looked down at your shoes. “You’re hard to forget, you know.” It slipped out before you could stop it. He didn’t respond for a moment. Then, so quietly: “So are you.” 

Neither of you moved. The wind stilled. The air felt... charged. Like time paused. Just for this. 

Then— “You should go,” he said gently.

“It gets colder here after sunset.” He wasn’t pushing you away. But he was. And that strange ache bloomed behind your ribs without warning. You turned to go, steps slow. And as you walked, you felt his eyes on your back the entire time. 

August 18, 2019. 

It was supposed to be a short walk. You’d been gathering weather data, checking tree patterns near the edge of the forest. The innkeeper said the rain wouldn’t come until morning. But the sky didn’t listen. It started with a single drop. Then another. 

Within seconds, it was falling fast — fat, cold drops smacking against your shoulders, soaking through your hoodie in a matter of moments. You pulled the fabric up over your head and turned to head back — but the path was already slick, the trees pressing in closer, and fog began to roll over the field like a breath held too long. 

“Seriously?” you muttered, shivering. That’s when you saw him. Standing just under the crooked edge of an old pavilion by the hill — motionless, dry, and completely unbothered by the storm.  Sunghoon. 

You blinked, surprised. "You're always just… appearing out of nowhere.” 

“You're always walking into places you shouldn't be alone,” he replied calmly, eyes tracking the water running down your cheek. 

You hesitated. Then stepped under the structure, chest heaving slightly from the sudden cold. Your shoulders were soaked. Hair clinging to your face. Hands trembling. He watched you quietly. “You're freezing.” 

You gave a weak smile. “That tends to happen when it rains on humans.” 

He didn’t return it. Instead, he removed his outer jacket and handed it over without a word. You stared at it. “I’m already wet. You don’t have to—” 

“I want to.” 

You took it slowly. It was still warm. 

You slipped it on. It smelled like night air and something faintly old — like worn books and clean linen. Not the scent of someone who lived alone in a dusty house. 

The silence stretched. 

Raindrops tapping the roof like a ticking clock. 

Your breath fogged the air. 

His didn’t. 

“Why were you even out here?” you asked. 

He didn’t answer immediately. 

Then: 

“I thought you’d come this way.” 

You turned your head sharply. “You were… waiting for me?” 

He didn’t flinch. 

“Something about the sky felt wrong. I knew you’d ignore it.” 

“You don’t even know me.” 

“I know your pattern.” 

That shut you up for a moment. 

And somehow... warmed you. 

More than the jacket did. 

Your teeth chattered softly. You turned away, embarrassed. 

Suddenly, you felt something. 

His fingers — gently, lightly — tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. 

You froze. 

“You should be more careful,” he murmured, voice barely audible over the rain. “This place doesn’t forgive softness.” 

You looked up at him then. 

And he was already too close. 

Not touching. 

Not reaching. 

Just there. 

And for a second, you wondered what it would be like if he leaned in just a little more. 

“Do you always talk like that?” you whispered, lips parted. “Like you’re centuries old?” 

He gave the faintest smile like he knows something you don’t. 

The rain kept falling. The sky stayed grey. 

And your heartbeat too loudly in your ears. 

You didn’t ask him why his hands were cold even though he felt warm. 

You didn’t ask why he never blinked when he looked at you. 

The rain kept falling. 

And he stood there, completely still, listening to the rhythm of her blood, her breath, her heart... 

And all he could think was: 

Don’t touch her again.  Don’t want her.  Don’t let her see the monster inside you. 

But it was already too late. 

Because for the first time in years, he wanted something enough to lose control. 

And it was you. 

The rain had stopped, but the night still smelled like it. 

You walked slowly. 

Beside him. 

His jacket still hung over your shoulders, and you hadn’t given it back. He hadn’t asked. 

“You didn’t have to walk me home,” you said softly, watching your boots splash through a shallow puddle. 

“I know.” 

He wasn’t smiling, but his tone was warm. Like he wanted to say, I just wanted more time with you, but didn’t know how. 

The village lights shimmered faint in the distance — soft and yellow, like floating lanterns. 

It felt like you were the only two people in the world. 

“Do you always spend your nights out there?” you asked. 

“Sometimes. I like the quiet.” 

“Most people don’t,” you said. “Silence makes them uncomfortable.” 

He glanced at you. 

“What about you?” 

You thought about it. 

“I think silence is the only time people stop pretending.” 

He actually smiled at that. Just a little. The kind that tugged one corner of his mouth — barely visible, but real. 

“What do you do all day?” you asked, curious now. “No job? No classes?” 

“I read,” he said. “Walk. Watch.” 

“That sounds like what I do, too.” 

“You watch more than most people,” he replied, side-eying you. “Always observing. Analyzing.” 

You raised a brow. “Are you calling me creepy?” 

“No,” he said. “Just... different.” 

You looked away to hide your smile. 

“Is that your way of saying I’m weird?” 

“No,” he repeated, slower this time. “It’s my way of saying I see you.” 

“Okay, your turn,” you said quickly, trying to recover. “What did you want to be when you were little?” 

He didn’t answer right away. 

“I don’t remember,” he said finally. “It’s been a long time since I was little.” 

You turned to him, blinking. “How old are you, Sunghoon?” 

He looked at you. Really looked. 

Then smiled like he knew he shouldn’t say the next thing — but said it anyway. 

“Older than I look.” 

You rolled your eyes. “That’s not an answer.” 

“It’s the only one I’ve got.” 

You reached the inn gate. 

The lantern outside flickered faintly in the breeze.  Neither of you moved. 

The air was warmer now. The clouds had parted just enough for moonlight to wash over the steps. 

You stood there — his jacket still on your shoulders, the scent of rain still on your skin, and his eyes fixed gently on you. 

“Good night, Sunghoon,” you said finally, stepping up to the door. 

“Good night, Y/N.” 

You turned the handle. 

Just before stepping inside, you hesitated. 

“You never told me what you like,” you said over your shoulder. 

He tilted his head slightly. “Like?” 

“Hobbies. Music. Favorite food. Normal things.” 

Another pause. 

Then: 

“The sound of rain,” he said. “Books with no endings. And people who don’t run away.” 

You met his eyes. 

And something about the way he said it made your heart ache. 

You didn’t know why. 

But you didn’t look away. 

Not for a long moment. 

Then finally, you stepped inside. 

And closed the door. 

August 20, 2019.

You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal. 

Just returning a jacket. 

Just a polite gesture. 

Just good manners. 

So why did your pulse stutter when the house came into view? 

The same tall trees. The same crooked path. The same quiet. 

You climbed the short stone steps and raised your hand to knock — but before you could, the door opened. 

He was already there. 

Like he’d been waiting. 

Or like he’d heard you coming long before you got close. 

“You came back,” he said, voice low, like sunlight through fog. 

“Just to return this,” you said quickly, lifting the folded jacket. 

“Of course.” 

But he didn’t take it. 

Instead, he stepped aside. 

“Do you want to come in?” 

You blinked. 

“Is that okay?” 

“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.” 

You stepped inside. 

The air was cool, but not cold. The interior still had that strange untouched feeling — like a photo frozen in time. Wood floors. A low bookshelf. A kettle on the counter, untouched. 

You walked slowly, setting the jacket on the nearest chair. 

“You live like a ghost,” you said softly. 

He raised a brow. “I’m neat.” 

“You’re ancient,” you teased. 

He smirked faintly. “So you’ve said.” 

You turned toward the bookshelf — rows of old spines and journals, some in languages you didn’t recognize. One looked handwritten. Another... burned around the edges. 

“These don’t look like they’re from a village library.” 

“They’re not.” 

“So what are they?” 

“Pieces of me,” he said. 

You paused, looking back. 

His expression didn’t change, but there was something fragile in his stillness. 

You let the question go. 

“Tea?” he asked suddenly, already reaching for the kettle. 

“You drink tea?” 

“No. But you do.” 

He made it quietly. Smooth movements. No wasted motion. 

He handed you the mug and sat across from you, careful, like he was making sure there was enough distance. 

“Do people visit you often?” you asked, wrapping your hands around the cup. 

“No.” 

“Why?” 

“Because they forget me,” he said. “Or… I let them.” 

“But you didn’t want me to forget you?” you asked quietly. 

His eyes met yours. 

Dark. Unreadable. 

“I didn’t plan on you remembering at all.” 

You blinked. “What changed?” 

He stared at the steam curling between you. 

Then said, without blinking: 

“You smiled at me.” 

The silence stretched. 

The weight of it made your chest feel tight. 

Your fingers tightened around the mug. 

“Why do you always say things like that?” you whispered. 

“Like what?” 

“Like it means something. And then you never explain.” 

He stood up then, slowly — walking toward the window, looking out at the trees. 

“Because I’ve learned that explaining doesn’t stop people from leaving.” 

“So you just... stay mysterious?” 

“No,” he said, without turning around. “I stay safe.” 

You stood too. Quiet steps. 

He didn’t move as you stopped beside him, just far enough for the space between your hands to hum. 

“What are you so afraid of, Sunghoon?” you asked, not accusing — just soft. 

A pause. 

Then finally: 

“That if you knew the truth about me… you'd stop smiling at all.” 

“What are you saying?” 

“Nothing. Don’t think too much.” He says. 

You didn’t leave. 

You just stood beside him. 

And for a moment, the silence between you wasn’t heavy. 

It was tender. 

“You okay?” you asked. 

He didn’t answer. 

Didn’t trust himself to speak. 

Because right now, he could feel it rising — that burn behind his eyes, the pressure in his jaw, the ancient ache in his throat. 

The want. 

Not just to feed. 

To claim. 

“I think you should go,” he said, voice tight. 

“Did I say something wrong?” 

“No.” 

“Then—” 

“Please.” 

His back was turned now.  He couldn’t let her see his face.  Not when his eyes were beginning to glow. Not when his fangs had started to edge down. 

He bit the inside of his cheek — hard enough to draw blood. Let the pain steady him. Anchor him. 

“Sunghoon? Is something wrong? You can trust me- I trust you.”  

But all he said was: 

“I don’t trust myself.” 

You stared at his back for a long moment. 

Then quietly… you left. 

The door shut behind you with a soft click. 

And he stood there in the quiet, eyes still burning, heart raging inside a chest that shouldn’t have had one anymore. 

August 21, 2019. 

You went to the library to check the village’s records.  

To look for any book, any magazine, any piece of information that would help you get a better insight about the village’s roots.  

You found a series of census logs tucked into a low cabinet—records of the village’s population numbers and names dating back to the 1900s. Faded, but surprisingly intact. 

And that’s when you saw it. 

A pattern. 

In 2010, the population was 528.  In 2012, it dropped to 413.  By 2015: 290.  2017: 178. 

No official records of why.  No mass migration.  No natural disaster.  No illness outbreak. 

Just... names disappearing. 

Not all at once.  Not dramatically. 

But slowly.  Like something was taking them. One by one. 

You scanned the reports harder now. 

Looking for causes. Deaths. Relocations. 

But most names just had one word stamped across the last column: 

“Unrecorded.” 

You slammed the binder shut and sat back. 

Your chest felt tight. 

You looked around the library. The light felt colder. The silence heavier. 

This is getting nowhere. Rather than the doubts clearing, more questions are surfacing. Too many questions. Too less information. You doubt you are even eligible to solve this mystery. Maybe Dr.Han realizes he made a mistake choosing you once you return. You wonder how the others are doing. Are they going through the same difficulties?  

You shake your head as if it shakes away the insecure thoughts creeping up. You need to focus. On this village. The people. Everyone here seems normal except... Sunghoon. 

He always seemed to appear when no one else was around. 

Your fingers curled against the cover of the book. 

No. Don’t jump to conclusions. That doesn’t mean anything. 

And yet… 

Something in your gut whispered otherwise. 

Still, when the sun began to set— 

You found yourself walking toward the hill. 

Toward him. 

Carrying questions you couldn’t ask yet. 

And a heart that didn’t want answers- the real ones.  

The sky was painted in soft blue fading to lavender.  The last light of the sun had just dipped behind the mountains, leaving a glow that shimmered across the tall grass. 

You stood at the top of the hill, overlooking the village lights far below.  Everything was quiet. 

Except your thoughts. 

Except him. 

Sunghoon stood beside you — close, not quite touching. Hands in his pockets. Eyes on the horizon. 

“You always find the quietest places,” you said softly. 

“I think they find me.” 

You turned to him, trying to read that impossible expression on his face. 

“You always talk like that. Like there’s a whole world in your head and you’re just… giving me scraps.” 

“I don’t mean to,” he said. “I just forget how to be anything else.” 

You took a breath. 

“Then remind yourself. Just for tonight. Just for me.” 

He looked at you then. 

Really looked. 

And for the first time, he didn’t look away. 

“You scare me,” he said quietly. 

That made your chest tighten. 

“Why?” 

“Because you make me want to stay.” 

The wind brushed through the grass. 

Your heart was too loud. Your breath too soft. 

He stepped closer. 

His hand, trembling just slightly, reached up and cupped your cheek — gentle, reverent, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he touched too hard. 

His thumb brushed under your eye, then trailed down to your jaw. 

“Say something,” he whispered. 

You didn’t. 

You leaned in instead. 

And he met you there. 

The kiss was nothing like you imagined. 

It wasn’t rushed.  It wasn’t wild. 

It was slow. 

Like two people learning what it meant to feel alive again. 

His lips were cool at first — like the wind before rain — but they softened against yours. Moved with aching care. Like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth and trying not to fall apart doing it. 

You felt his breath catch. 

Felt his hand slide into your hair. 

Felt your knees go weak when he deepened the kiss — still gentle, still hesitant, but full of something you didn’t have a name for. 

And then— 

He pulled away. 

Fast. 

Like he’d caught fire. 

His eyes were wide.  Not with lust. Not even guilt. 

With fear. 

“I shouldn’t have—” 

“Sunghoon,” you whispered, reaching for him. 

He stepped back. 

“No. This was a mistake.” 

“Why are you doing this again?”  “Every time I get close, you push me away. Why?” 

He didn’t answer. 

Not with words. 

But his face… 

That expression? 

It looked like someone who just tasted something too good.  Something too human.  Something that made him forget what he was. 

“Because I can’t be the reason you get hurt,” he finally said. 

And then he turned away. 

Leaving you alone with a kiss that still burned on your lips, and a silence that felt heavier than ever. 

August 26, 2019. 

You ignored him after that. Turned your head away whenever he got into. Looked away first when you both made eye contact. Avoided him when he came to apologize the very next day of your kiss.  

Not cause you hate him. You wish you did but no. You remember what Dr.Han said, “Observe. Record. don’t interfere.” You can't risk everything just cause of some stupid, weird feelings that you have. No. You can’t let your emotions get in the way of your case. This isn't right.  

Youre altering time, you should do it wisely, not recklessly.  

And so, you did what you thought was best. Ignore. Distance. Observe. 

Or so, you thought.  

You weren’t expecting to run into him. 

But of course you did. 

He was leaning against the side wall of the bakery, half-hidden in the shade, like always. Silent. Watching. 

He didn’t call out. 

Didn’t wave. 

But you felt it — the shift in air when his gaze hit you. That quiet weight of his presence. 

You almost kept walking. 

Almost. 

But then— 

“Y/N.” 

His voice was low. Not cold. Just… tired. 

You turned after a moment of hesitation. 

Met his eyes. 

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked. 

Simple question. 

But it landed sharp. 

You didn’t answer right away. 

“I’ve just been… busy.” 

“You’ve seen me.” 

“I didn’t think you wanted to talk.” 

“Don’t do that,” he said, stepping forward. “Don’t turn it around like it’s me.” 

You blinked. “I’m not—” 

“You haven’t looked at me in five days.” 

His tone wasn’t angry.  It was quiet. Steady. Too steady. 

“You smiled at me one night,” he said, “and then the next morning, it’s like I didn’t exist.” 

“Sunghoon—” 

“And I thought—”  He paused. Ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.  “I thought maybe you needed space. But then I saw you with that guy. That tall one from the orchard. And you were laughing. Just… laughing. Like everything’s normal.” 

You looked away. 

He let the silence settle. 

Then finally: 

“It hurt.” 

That was it. Just that. 

Not possessive. Not demanding. Just real. 

You didn’t know what to say. So, you said the only truth you had: 

“I’m scared, Sunghoon.” 

He looked at you for a long time. 

“Of me?” 

“Of not knowing what’s happening. Of what this village is hiding. Of what you’re hiding.” 

You stepped back slightly, instinctively. Not far. 

But enough. 

His eyes dropped to the space between you.  Then back up. 

“Do you think I’d ever hurt you?” 

You hesitated. 

Then, quietly: 

“I don’t know.” 

That broke something in him. 

You saw it. In his eyes. 

Not rage. 

Just sadness. 

“I wouldn’t,” he said softly. “Not even if I wanted to.” 

You turned back and left without replying, unable to look into his face or even talk to him. 

September 5, 2019. 

You shouldn’t have gone looking. 

You told yourself you weren’t.  That you just needed air.  That the trail by the forest was peaceful this time of day. 

But really? You missed him. 

And you couldn’t stop thinking about what he said. 

“I wouldn’t hurt you. Not even if I wanted to.” 

It looped in your mind for days. Through sleep. Through silence. Through guilt. 

You didn’t give him an answer. So, you were going to. 

You were going to find him and say you’re not sure what this is, but you’re willing to try. That you believe he’s good. That you want to believe it, even if you’re scared. 

But then— 

You saw it. 

You heard something first. 

A low sound. Guttural. Like a growl tucked beneath a breath. 

And then a figure stumbling — just ahead. At the edge of the trees. A man. Drunk? Hurt? 

And beside him—  Holding him up— 

Was Sunghoon. 

Or… something that used to be him 

His head was tilted.  His lips pressed just beneath the man’s jaw.  His hands clutched the man’s shoulders too tightly.  And his eyes— 

They glowed. 

Not fully.  Just enough for the shadows to catch it. 

Red. Dim. Inhuman. 

You saw his mouth open.  Saw the flash of fang. 

And then— 

The man sagged. 

Like air had left him. 

You froze. 

Your heart punched against your ribs. 

He stared.  Still half-shadowed.  Blood on his mouth. 

He stepped forward. 

“Y/N.” 

You backed up. 

Didn’t speak. 

Didn’t breathe. 

Your eyes wide. Your expression already saying everything your voice couldn’t. 

Fear. 

The kind that wasn’t subtle. 

The kind you couldn’t take back. 

“No,” he said quietly. “No, don’t—please don’t look at me like that.” 

He wiped at his mouth. Quickly. Clumsily. 

“I can explain. It’s not—” 

You flinched when he stepped closer. 

That did it. 

He stopped. 

His hands dropped to his sides. 

And something in him… wilted. 

“So, this is it?” he whispered. 

His voice wasn’t cold.  Wasn’t sharp.  It was just… empty. 

You didn’t say anything. 

Couldn’t. 

You turned. 

And ran. 

And behind you, the last thing you heard was him whispering into the night: 

“I didn’t want you to find out like this.” 

You rushed back home and stumbled in. 

You quickly went to your bedroom, opening the drawers and pulled out your logbook. 

You sat on the floor beside your bed after grabbing a marker.  

The pages were filled with sketches. Maps. Observations.  And now? 

Scribbled question marks. Shaky handwriting. A timeline you couldn’t look at anymore. 

2010 — population: 528  2012 — 413  2015 — 290  2017 — 178  2019 — barely 60 left. 

No disease.  No evacuation orders.  No record of where they went. 

But you knew now. 

You saw it. 

His eyes. His fangs.  The man in the forest, half-drained and limp in his arms. 

You knew. 

And the truth clawed at your throat like it didn’t want to be swallowed. 

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” he had said. 

You remembered his voice.  Too quiet.  Too pained to be fake. 

But it didn’t matter now, did it? 

Because while he was giving you flowers and walking you home… 

He was feeding on the people who welcomed you with tea and stories. 

You closed your eyes. 

Your hands were trembling. 

You remembered the first time you saw him. 

How unreal he looked in the moonlight.  How safe you felt beside him. 

How stupid that was now. 

Was any of it real? 

The kiss. The laughter. The jacket he left folded on your bed. 

Or were you just the next name on his list? 

The next girl to get too close? 

Were you just another pawn in his game?  

Whatever it was, you shouldn't have gotten close with him. Shouldn't have tried to interfere. You shouldn't have done it and God, you regret it.  

And for the first time in years…  You cried. 

Not from fear.  But from heartbreak. 

If only you backed down that day on the hill. If only you shouldn't have let him close to you. If only... 

September 7, 2019. 

After that day, you didn't leave your room. 

You didn't go out, the fear of him catching you always haunting your mind whenever you reach for the door handle. 

And weirdly enough, you should feel better, you really should but why did you feel... empty?  

He’s a monster! He kills innocent people, hes a vampire. But why didn't the fact alone scare you? Why were you craving for his presence? Why were you thinking about the moments you've spent together? This isn't even real. Its past, you weren't even born at this time period. You shouldn't be feeling things you aren't supposed to. 

But you can't deny the fact that your heart aches for his presence- for him.  

But you don't have time for this. Not when you have two days on your watch. Two days before everything goes back to normal, hopefully. And so, you push aside your feelings saying the time is playing tricks on you and start writing the report.  

All of your log entries, now are typed and kept in digital doc by you. You enter the log entries, from day one to the day you discovered the root cause of all of this- the dissapearance. You procrastinated too much while typing them in, thinking about all the wonderful days you’ve spent with locals- with him. 

But all of this isn't real, at the end of the day. You don't belong here- you shouldn't. This isn't your timeline. This is not your story. This isn't the reality you are supposed to live in and experience. This is just a case that you've got assigned to. It's your duty. And you fulfilled it by finding out the reason. And this is where you shall end it. End of this chapter, end of this case and end of him.  

September 9, 2019.  

Today is the day. 

You pack your bag, filling it with the things you bought and the things you are taking back to your timeline. The memories, the events and the adventures.  

There wasn't a single second you haven't thought about him. But this is it. You have to say your goodbyes.  

You can't warn the others, who haven't yet got bitten by Sunghoon. Because as dr.Han said, “Don't interfere.”  

Youve already made the mistake of not listening to him and crossed the boundary and faced the consequences. You aren't going to do it again. Because at the end of the day, its fate. It already happened. You can't change it, not even when you go back in time. Because what's written, is written. If changed, you are bound to face the consequences.  

History can't be re-written.  

And so, with that, you leave.  

You stood by the terminal light beam.  

Delta 12’s jump pulse flickering through the mist. 

Your bag beside you. Your heart heavy with no one in the future world- the real world would understand or know of.  

You turned back one last time towards the village. 

Thanking it for everything it gave you- thanking it for giving Sunghoon. 

Who'll be remembered as the passing wind and the falling of leaves by you.  

And when you jumped- 

The light swallowed you whole. 

And in the same breath,  

You were gone.  

July 22, 2090. 

You opened your eyes. 

The jump light was fading.  The room around you was cold. White. Familiar in a way that made your chest ache. 

You were home. 

But it didn’t feel like it. 

Not yet. 

Your bag was still at your side. Your fingers still trembling. Your body still in two places — the sterile floors of the lab… and the moss-soft grass beneath his feet. 

You didn’t even notice the door sliding open until you heard the softest gasp. 

“Y/N?” 

You turned. 

And there she was. 

Mira.  Her braid was undone, her coat slung over one arm, her eyes red — like she’d either just woken up… or hadn’t slept since the moment she jumped back. 

She stared at you. 

Then smiled. Weakly. 

“God, it’s you.” 

You couldn’t speak. 

You didn’t have to. 

She crossed the space between you in three quick steps and pulled you into the kind of hug you didn’t realize you needed until her arms wrapped around you. 

You felt her chest shudder. 

You were crying too. 

Soon, the others trickled in. 

Taehyun — still composed, but his eyes softer than usual.  Yuvi — who dropped her bag the second she saw you, crashing into the hug with a half-laugh, half-sob. Jungwon — who just stood by the door for a long time, taking all of you in like he didn’t believe you were real until that moment. 

No one said much at first. 

They just… stood there. 

Five people who had faced time itself. 

And came back with hearts a little heavier. 

Eyes a little older. 

It felt nice. Seeing everyone’s familiar faces after being drowned in unfamiliar faces who don't even exist in reality.  

Finally, Mira sniffed and said, voice shaking: 

“I missed you guys.” 

Yuvi let out a teary laugh. 

“I didn’t realize how much till now.” 

Jungwon gave a small nod, blinking fast. 

Taehyun just whispered: 

“You’re all here.” 

You wiped your face and smiled. 

Soft. Quiet. Real. 

“Yeah.” 

“We’re here.” 

You all look at each other. A moment of silence. As if you guys are finally taking in and registering everyone’s presence. And then, you all hugged. A big group hug filled with emotions which arent said loud but felt. And finally, you felt like you are back home.  

September 11, 2019.  

The room smelled of old circuits and sterile air.  The walls glowed faint blue, humming with quiet energy. 

You sat where you always had —  Same table.  Same lights.  Same white jackets. 

But nothing was the same anymore. 

Not the silence.  Not the weight in everyone’s eyes. 

Not the version of you that existed before. 

The door slid open. 

Dr. Han stepped in, shoulders straighter than usual, expression unreadable. 

“Good morning.” 

He stood at the edge of the circular table, clipboard in hand, eyes scanning each of you. 

“You’ve all returned safely,” he said. “On record, your missions were successful. But the records don’t matter if we don’t understand why.” 

He took a breath. 

“So, let’s talk about what really happened.” 

Dr. Han looked at Yuvi first.  

“Yuvi. March 2311. Seoul. What caused the blackout?” 

Yuvi didn’t hesitate.  But her voice was softer than usual. 

“It wasn’t just data loss,” she said. “It was deliberate. The two largest tech giants—SolarCore and NeuraStream—were engaged in a silent war for memory control. They each tried to overwrite the other’s data… and in doing so, they wiped everyone’s.” 

A pause. 

“The blackout wasn’t a glitch. It was a battle. One that made the world forget six months — and made the companies forget what humanity was.” 

Dr. Han only nodded. 

“Mira. 1652. The scribe’s ink.” 

Mira folded her hands. 

“The man wasn’t mad. The ‘sky-born woman of light’ — she was a time displacer like us. From the future. Possibly one of the early, undocumented tests.” 

She met Dr. Han’s eyes. 

“The ink? It was our ink. Synthetic. Used in lab reports.” 

Silence fell. 

Dr. Han blinked slowly. “You’re saying the anomaly… was ours.” 

“Yes,” Mira whispered. “We caused the myth.” 

“You two. Northern Territories. Duplicated villages.” 

Taehyun glanced at Jungwon. Jungwon gave a tiny nod. 

“There were two villages,” Jungwon said. “Identical. Same people. Same dogs. Same newspapers.” 

“Except,” Taehyun added, “They existed in overlapping timelines. One was five minutes behind the other. A permanent sync lag caused by a failed early prototype of time field testing.” 

Jungwon finished it quietly. 

“It was human error. A time scar. We tried to erase one. But they both kept living… until one finally collapsed.” 

“Y/N,” Dr. Han said, turning to you. “The village of Myeon-ri. The one that vanished without cause.” 

Your fingers curled slightly on the edge of the table. 

You could still feel the wind there. Still hear his voice. 

You slid the chip forward. 

“There was no disease. No mass migration. No disaster. It was slow. Intentional.” 

You looked up. 

“A predator lived there. Not wild. Human-shaped. Possibly centuries old. A vampire, by older terms. He fed carefully, spaced apart. But eventually, the numbers dropped too far.” 

The others stared. 

You didn’t flinch. 

“He didn’t want the village gone. But he couldn’t stop. And no one remembered the ones who vanished. They were erased — from memory, from databases. Like they never existed.” 

“Vampire?” Dr.Han questioned. 

“Vampire.” You confirmed.  

Dr. Han asked, quietly: 

“Did he know who you were?” 

A pause. 

You met his gaze. 

“No.” 

A beat. 

“But I think I knew who he used to be.” 

You lied. Of course he knows you. He knows the woman he fell for the first time. He knows the woman who was his first ever kiss. 

You didn't tell them. You didn't to protect him and in a way, protect yourself too. 

Dr. Han stepped back. He looked at each of you — not as scientists, but as people who had seen too much. 

“You all did what centuries of historians couldn’t. You brought back truth.” 

He turned toward the exit, then paused. 

“Take the week off. Rest. File clean versions by the end of the month. We’ll… figure out what to do with the rest.” 

The door hissed closed behind him. 

And you all sat in silence.  Hearts still somewhere in another time. 

The streets are quiet at 2 a.m. 

Neon signs buzz in blues and pinks.  Artificial rain shimmers above, falling against projection domes that keep your coat dry. 

You pass a street musician playing a slow guitar. 

The song is unfamiliar.  But it feels like him. 

Like a song you might’ve danced to on his porch.  Or hummed under your breath while he walked you home. 

Your throat tightens. 

You sit on a bench, ignoring your holopad as it pings with follow-up requests from Dr. Han. 

You can’t open the file.  You can’t even look at his name on the case label. 

Your hand slowly reaches into your coat pocket. 

The jacket he gave you is long gone. 

But you still have one thing. 

A pressed leaf. 

Red. From that tree near the hill.  Where he waited for you every evening.  Where he said nothing — just smiled — like you were his favorite moment of the day. 

You hold the leaf to your chest. 

And for a second…  you close your eyes. 

And pretend he’s sitting beside you. 

Back in the lab, the report still sits unsaved.  You’d written everything except the truth. 

“He didn’t follow me back.” 

But your chest burns with what you didn’t say. 

I think he wanted to.  I think I wanted him to.  And I think I left the part of me that believed in forever… in his hands. 

You missed him. You looked for him in everything. The wind, the leaves, the clouds, the time, everything. And somewhere back in 2019, sunghoon feels the weight of your absence.  

Sunghoon didn't really think it'd affect him that much, but it did. He was helpless when he didn't find you. Asked everyone, searched everywhere but there wasn't a trace of you, there wasn't a thing left behind you. And God, did he miss you.  

The silence after you was worse than the centuries before you. 

You were only here a month —  But the air still tasted like you.  The breeze still moved like the hem of your coat. 

He stood by the river. 

The same one you almost slipped near.  The one where he caught your hand. 

You used to laugh here. 

Now it was empty. 

And so was he. 

His throat burned.  The ache that had quieted in your presence — like your scent tamed the storm in his blood — now returned with wildfire in his veins. 

He hadn’t fed in days.  He didn’t want anyone else. 

He wanted you. 

"Y/N..." he whispered, though the name felt like poison now. 

He tried to hold back.  He really, truly did. 

But you were gone. 

And he had nothing left to prove he was still human. 

The next night, they found the baker's house empty.  Then the woman who sold herbs.  Then the elder by the hill. 

No one saw what took them. 

And Sunghoon? 

He stood in the village center, blood drying at the corner of his mouth, eyes still locked on the road you used to walk down every dusk. 

His hands shook. 

His mouth trembled. 

"You were supposed to stay..."  "You promised me forever in your eyes." 

But you didn’t answer. 

Because you were gone. 

And so were the people in the village.  

The village lingered with only with him feeding off of everyone and your presence.  

Time moved on. 

The village eventually collapsed.  Records rewritten.  Footprints washed away. 

But he didn’t vanish. 

He moved.  Fed.  Lingered in shadows. 

Years passed.  Decades blurred. 

He watched the world crawl toward neon skies and cities that blinked like stars. 

You were long gone.  But he never stopped believing in the possibility that time — the very thing that tore you from him — might one day return you. 

“Okay but hear me out,” Taehyun says, typing aggressively while Mira tries to slap his hand off the panel. “If I didn’t reroute the carbon filters that night, we’d all be bald. Fact.” 

“Fact?” Mira scoffs. “Fact is you nearly made the algae tank sentient. That thing winked at me.” 

“I still miss it,” Jungwon adds quietly, head down in his own files, a faint smile playing at his lips. 

Yuvi kicks her chair back dramatically, groaning. “My simulation’s stuck again. If I see one more ‘Data Error: Please Restart,’ I swear I’ll throw myself into the code.” 

Your lips curve as you watch them — the way the five of you fit into this space like puzzle pieces.  The room hums with soft tech glows and distant rain tapping the glass walls. 

It's late.  But none of you seem in a hurry to leave. 

Mira throws an energy bar at Taehyun. He catches it one-handed, smug.  Jungwon’s quietly stealing Yuvi’s half-charged mug again.  You just watch — feeling both part of it and… a little removed. 

Because they didn’t live what you lived.  Not the way you did. 

Not with him. 

Not with Sunghoon. 

“You good?” Yuvi asks you suddenly, turning in her chair. 

You blink. “Yeah. Just… tired.” 

“Duh,” she says, nudging your arm. “We’re all tired. End of world stuff every Tuesday.” 

You laugh. The others join in.  And just for a second, it feels normal. 

Like the past didn't follow you here.  Like he never reached across time. 

But the quiet ache in your chest says otherwise. 

Later, when the lab empties out one by one — when Yuvi yawns and Mira packs up her files —  you linger behind. 

Taehyun walks past you, ruffling your hair gently like he always does. Jungwon side hugs you as he exits. And Mira and Yuvi give you a hug before logging off.  

Then the lights dim.  The labs settle.  And you finally move. 

It was almost midnight. 

Your body was running on caffeine, adrenaline, and a half-shattered mind.  The labs were quiet. The halls were colder. Your coat clung to your shoulders, and all you wanted was silence. 

You stepped into the elevator. 

It was empty. Or—  so you thought. 

You didn’t even notice him at first. 

Not until the doors closed.  Not until the world narrowed into this steel box.  And not until a voice — low, aching, quiet — cut through the air like a thread snapping in your chest. 

“You didn’t even say goodbye.” 

You froze. 

Slowly, your eyes turned toward the figure standing in the far corner. 

And there he was. 

Sunghoon. 

Pressed against the wall of the elevator, the overhead light casting a cold glow across his skin.  His white dress shirt clung perfectly across his chest — sleeves rolled just below his elbows, forearms tense. His black tie was loose, like he’d worn it all day just to see you like this. 

His head was tilted slightly down, shadows covering half of his face — but even in the dimness, you saw it. 

The red.  Faint. Glowing. Watching. 

His jaw clenched. His lashes heavy against his cheek. His entire body still, like he was trying not to shake. 

Like just standing here, in front of you, took everything he had left. 

Your mouth opened. Nothing came out. 

He finally looked up.  Right at you. 

“You disappeared,” he said softly.  A step closer. 

“But I didn’t.” 

Another step. 

“I stayed. I searched.” 

His voice trembles. 

“And I waited.” 

He stops inches away from you. Close enough for you to see that his hands are shaking.  That his smile is breaking.  That the pain he’s carried all these years hasn’t dulled — only buried deeper. 

Your lips part, but no words come. 

Because what do you say to a man who waited seventy-one years for a goodbye? 

Your body doesn’t move. But he does. 

He steps forward — slowly — like if he moves too fast, you’ll vanish all over again. 

Then his hand lifts. And he touches you. 

Not roughly. Not hungrily. 

Just one cold, steady hand cupping your cheek — reverent. Careful.  The way he always touched you. Like you were something sacred. 

His other hand rests at your waist, pulling you gently toward him. 

Your breath hitches. 

His eyes flicker down to your lips, then back to your eyes. 

“I missed you,” he whispers. 

His thumb brushes your skin — and only then, do you exhale. 

But your voice barely comes out. 

“How… how did you get in here?” 

His smile twitches — half amused, half ruined. 

“You’re not the only one who learns things in seventy years.” 

You stare at him. 

“You broke into the lab?” 

“No,” he murmurs. “I learned how to become a ghost in systems like these. Took years. But I found my way into every firewall with your name on it. Every door you walked through.” 

He leans in just slightly — not threatening. Not desperate. 

Just there. Real. Close. 

“I wasn’t going to leave without seeing you again.” 

No matter how many years it’s been —  no matter how far you ran into the future — 

he still found you. 

He holds you like a memory he never let go of.  Like a secret he kept alive for decades. 

And when he finally speaks —  his voice cracks. 

“Tell me you didn’t forget me.” 

You blink.  Your lips part, but no sound comes out. 

Because how do you explain the sleepless nights?  The dreams where he touched your hand again?  The jacket you almost replicated just to feel close? 

He waits. 

And when you don’t answer — when silence sits between you like a second goodbye — you hear it again: 

“Y/N…”  “Tell me you didn’t forget me.” 

You look up at him then. 

And the glow in his eyes — the faint red warmth — flickers. 

Flickers like it’ll die if you lie. 

Your throat is tight. 

“How did you even find me?” you whisper. 

He smiles — not the charming one.  The broken one. 

“I never stopped looking.” 

A beat. 

“The village disappeared, but I didn’t. I moved. I adapted. I learned your world. I followed every digital trail you left behind. I memorized your voice. I traced you through five corporate systems and twenty years of noise.” 

His forehead leans into yours, almost touching. 

“You left without saying goodbye.”  “I needed to know… if it meant as much to you as it did to me.” 

You’re not breathing. 

Because in his voice — beneath the stillness, the eternal youth —  is pain. 

Not monstrous. Not violent. 

Just human. And heartbreakingly yours. 

Your hands move without thinking.  One rises to his chest — over where his heart used to beat. 

It’s quiet now.  But yours is loud enough for both of you. 

He’s still waiting. 

Eyes glowing.  Breath held. 

“Tell me,” He whispers again. “Tell me you didn’t forget me.” 

You swallow. 

Tears sting the edges of your eyes — the kind you refused to cry back then. The kind you buried inside lab reports and daily logs. 

And finally, your voice breaks. 

“I didn’t forget.” 

He closes his eyes, just for a second. Like the words hurt. Like they heal. 

“I just…” you breathe, “I just didn’t know how to come back.” 

There it is. 

The truth. 

The full, naked truth sitting between you —  soft and devastating. 

“I didn’t know if I could. If I should. If you were even—” 

He kisses you. 

Not rushed.  Not hungry. 

Just… quiet. Desperate. Familiar. 

The kind of kiss that says thank you for surviving. 

The kind that says don’t leave again. 

it feels like time folds in on itself. 

Like the wind from the village,  the rain on your skin,  the jacket on your shoulders,  the words you never said —  they all return in that one breath. 

And this time,  you kiss him back. 

Hands gripping the front of his coat, your breath catching —  like your body finally remembered what safety tasted like. 

He pulls you in closer, desperate,  like he still doesn’t believe you’re real.  Like you’ll vanish again if he lets go. 

When your lips part, and you both breathe — barely —  your forehead leans into his. 

The glow in his eyes softens. 

And then— 

“You…” your voice cracks, soft and shaking.  “You waited? For me?” 

His eyes close slowly. 

Not like he’s in pain —  but like your question alone undid him. 

“Of course I did,” he whispers.  “How could I not?” 

You inhale sharply,  because no one’s ever said it like that. 

Not with that kind of certainty.  Like your existence was never forgettable —  just… unforgettable. 

“You… waited? For me?” 

His eyes flutter shut — like your voice, your doubt, undoes something deep in him. 

“Of course I did,” he murmurs, forehead still resting against yours.  “How could I not?” 

That’s when the tears come. 

You didn’t mean to.  You weren’t even sure they were still inside you. 

But suddenly, your eyes burn. 

And your voice falls out in pieces. 

“I thought…” your lips tremble.  “I thought you moved on.”  “Thought you’d forget me.” 

His arms tighten around you instantly — like he can feel you breaking and is ready to hold every shattered piece. 

“I couldn’t,” he says.  “I wouldn’t.” 

Your eyes meet again, and he says it like a vow: 

“I loved you in 2019. I loved you in every year after.  Even the ones where you weren’t there.” 

“You… waited? For me?” 

His eyes flutter shut — like your voice, your doubt, undoes something deep in him. 

“Of course I did,” he murmurs, forehead still resting against yours.  “How could I not?” 

That’s when the tears come. 

You didn’t mean to.  You weren’t even sure they were still inside you. 

But suddenly, your eyes burn. 

And your voice falls out in pieces. 

“I thought…” your lips tremble.  “I thought you moved on.”  “Thought you’d forget me.” 

His arms tighten around you instantly — like he can feel you breaking and is ready to hold every shattered piece. 

“I couldn’t,” he says.  “I wouldn’t.” 

Your eyes meet again, and he says it like a vow: 

“I loved you in 2019. I loved you in every year after.  Even the ones where you weren’t there.” 

And just like that—  you stepped into him. 

Your arms wrapped around his torso tight, face burying into his chest, body trembling from everything you’d held back for too long. 

And he— 

He didn’t hesitate. 

He wrapped his arms around you so firmly, so protectively, it almost hurt.  Like if the world tried to take you again, it would have to tear through him first. 

One arm locked around your waist.  The other curled high around your back, hand cradling the base of your neck — fingers gently gripping, anchoring you like he was afraid you’d disappear again. 

“You’re here,” he breathed.  “You’re really here.” 

He didn’t just hold you. 

He claimed you — not with force, but with everything he never got to say. 

This wasn’t a soft embrace. 

This was the way you hold something sacred.  The way you cling to a miracle. 

And for the first time after he met in seventy years,  he didn’t feel cold anymore. 

He held you like you were his whole world —  like everything he endured, every year he starved, every time he nearly gave up…  was worth it just to feel you in his arms again. 

And for a long, still moment —  you didn’t speak. 

You just breathed.  Chest rising against his.  The faint, unfamiliar sound of his heartbeat echoing somewhere far beneath. 

Then, into the quiet, barely louder than a breath— 

“I missed this,” you whispered, cheek pressed against his chest.  “I missed you.” 

His hand gripped you tighter, almost instinctively.  Like your words shattered something inside him he didn’t even know was still breakable. 

He didn’t say anything at first. 

But you felt it —  in the way his thumb moved slowly against your back,  in the way his body trembled just slightly against yours. 

“Say it again,” he murmured. 

You tilted your head just slightly, looked up into those red-flecked eyes that had waited decades for this. 

And this time, you didn’t whisper. 

“I missed you, Sunghoon.” 

He looked at you, cupped your face with both of his hands with so much of care as if you were porcelain and would break if you added any more force.  

He kissed your forehead like it was the only language he had left. 

Slow.  Tender.  Devastating. 

Your eyes fluttered shut — his lips lingering just a heartbeat longer, like he couldn’t quite let go. 

And when he finally pulled back, just far enough to look at you again —  his voice cracked through the silence. 

“Don’t leave me this time…”  A pause. A breath.  “Angel.” 

The name hit you harder than the kiss. 

Because that’s what he used to call you.  Back in the village.  When your hands were cold from the rain, and he’d wrap his jacket around you like you were something worth saving. 

You blinked back the sting in your eyes.  But he saw it.  Of course he did.  His thumb brushed just beneath your eye. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmured.  “Just… stay.” 

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

taglist: @gnarlyhoons @stormlit-pages @himynameisraelynn @see-c @shra-vasti @heesbbygurl @elikajinnie @jwyoceans @jaylaxies (lmk if u wanna be added!)

A/N: im backkkkkkkkkk y'allllllllllllll !!!!!!!!! also this thing has been keeping me from watching the outside mv so imma watch it now! ALSO WROTE THIS THING IN 2 DAYS LIKE WTH i cant believe i did tht. anyways enjoy and stay hydrated!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[lizziesfirstwife]

Inevitable

pt.2 to Guardian Angel

jinu x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of death and blood, depressive themes, possessive jinu, thirsty reader, suggestive language, use of Y/N, banter, slow burn, not proof-read

word count: 4807 (sorry not sorry)

authors note: listened to Ms.Whitman by Bhad Bhabie & watched the Korean Pop the Balloon or find Love halfway writing this. Fought writers block like crazy to bring this out, so enjoy! 🤍

Of all the ways to lose a person, death is the kindest.

It was quick. In most cases.

The air smelled of rain and cherry blossom. The hem of her dress was soaked, her shoes wet from running through the soaked grounds of the forest she had been hiding in for the past few hours.

Sunshine crawled its way through the canopy that the trees created. A desperate consolation, sympathy for her impending doom.

Tears streamed down her face, blisters adorning her feet like a plague, blood and mud sticking to them. She wanted to scream. So many things left for her to do, things she had carelessly written in her diary before going to bed.

I don’t know how to fix this.

The ground gave way beneath her, mud crept further and further up her legs, the lower part of her dress now completely wet.

Silence.

She stood still.

The air smelled of cherry blossoms and death. Her hands, which had once been white with cinnamon and flour, were now stained red.

Was it blood?

I fear that I will love you more than I will ever be allowed to.

Her hair had long since come loose from her bun, the strands knotted and frizzy from running through the rain. Her barrette was lost too far away to retrieve, buried under mud and tears.

Birds were chirping. It was supposed to be a gift. She cried when she found out the price of the hanbok, made of lace and pure silk. Pink silk, hand-dyed with chrysanthemums and madder root. Lace, which was reserved for noble brides only.

She wanted to be a bride so badly.

Out of love for you, I have forgiven the world for what it has done to me.

A tear rolled down her face. She would have made a beautiful bride. An extraordinary one.

Now the dress that was supposed to be her wedding dress, was stained full of blood.

Her feet gave way and her body met the mossy forest floor. The sun shone golden down on her, as if to…comfort her.

Horse galloping. Screams.

Her hand closed around the diamond on her necklace, the only thing not stained by her blood.

She had always known that she would die first. It was inevitable.

˙⋆✮

Her cat jumped off the bed when she woke up screaming.

A week had passed since the strange encounter in the bakery.

She hadn't thought about what the encounter might have meant or why the strange man looked so familiar to her. Thinking about it would bring no clarity, only confusion.

Taking a deep breath, she threw back her blanket and took a sip out of the water bottle she had put on her bedside table. It was rare that she woke up before her alarm, but this dream had shaken something inside her that she didn't know was dormant.

After the meeting a week ago, she went to the post office to send her boss a letter demanding her contractual 14 days of paid leave.

Sonder.

The realization that every soul on this planet has their own story, their own pains to carry silently, ambitions that might never come true, dreams that were shattered, love that was forbidden to be expressed.

She wondered what he was doing with his life. Was he a shop assistant like her? No, he hadn't shown enough feigned niceness for that. When you had to deal with people every day and your survival depended on how convinced they were of you, you quickly learned how to manipulate people.

He didn't come across to her as the kind of person who needed to lie to people in order to survive. Maybe health care? Y/N imagined him in a white coat with a stethoscope slung around his neck.

Doctors didn't really lie, they didn't need to. They earned their living without lying to their patients, mostly. There would always be senior citizens with blood pressure problems, young women with iron deficiency, couples with fertility problems, and more than enough accidents.

She bit her lip before spitting her toothpaste into the sink. He would look good in uniform.

The smell of sandalwood and rain caught her nose, a crow cawed outside.

The sun was almost completely up, the dew still fresh, the sound of rain hitting the streets. The truth was, she didn't know why she had taken vacation. She took her necklace from her jewelry box on the dresser and clasped it carefully around her neck. It was an heirloom, at least that's what her great-grandmother told her before she died. It certainly looked old enough. The silver had a few scratches, the diamond hanging from it a bit dull.

Maybe she wanted to sleep in for once, or stop baking any more cinnamon rolls.

She took her perfume bottle, and wrapped herself in a cloud of sakura and dreamy vanilla. Her hair looked dull. The circles under her eyes were darker than usual, her skin dry from the lack of moisturizer.

When she was little, her mother used to say that her beauty was her greatest weapon. Not her knowledge, or her kindness.

Beauty was like a bullet that you could shape until it fitted into a weapon. You could polish it, improve it, maintain it.

Aim.

And fire if necessary.

In a selfish world, only the selfish could succeed. Y/N was never selfish. She didn't have it in her. She wanted to be. Too many cruel people were wronging humanity, too many evil people became successful. It seemed as if people had to hate each other in order to survive day after day, as if there was nothing left for the good souls in this world, nothing for those who recognized the strength in being kind and did not give up being so.

Sometimes she felt like she could snap, shout at everyone who treated her like shit. But did she want to be admitted to a ward? Hell no.

So she didn’t.

Rain beat against the glass of her windows. A sigh escaped her lips, applying the last bit of blush before going to her coat rack. How could it be that it was raining for the seventh day in a row? Y/N looked down and grimaced. She didn't like her rain boots. Not one bit. They weren't ugly, a simple shade of black, but whenever she had to put them on it felt like she was waddling. Just because it was raining didn't mean she wanted to feel like a duckling.

She loved the rain. The sound made her think a little less about just everything, her personal white noise. It was already warm outside, the early morning hours heating up the air. At work, she had no choice but to wear long clothes. It wasn't a company rule, but she had made the mistake of putting on an expensive dress on her first day at work and had to take it straight to the cleaner afterwards.

There was an indescribable emptiness inside her that she didn't know when or how it had taken root, like a virus trying to claim the happiness inside her for itself. She turned away from her coat stand.

She didn't bother to lock her apartment as she walked out the door.

˙⋆✮

It was Sunday again. But the emptiness, the feeling of not having earned waking up, did not rise with Jinu.

His throat felt dry. He hummed a song as he fished a shirt out of his closet, a black one made of silk, and sprayed a little perfume on his neck and in his hair.

He was leaving the bathroom when he paused.

Two steps back, one reach up. He put the bottle of perfume back in the cupboard, now that his wrists also smelled of sandalwood. Jinu didn't know why he even owned perfume. It wasn't as if demons stank, or needed anything other but their sheer will to bring people to their doom.

He frowned as he looked in the mirror. In the past, before his time as a soul hunter, he used to steal pastries from the palace kitchen, breaking them in two and using the contents as a perfume. He knew that no one would understand why he would have done such a thing, when he was in a good position as a musician at court. He didn't have to steal food from the kitchen to smell good. The most extravagant, expensive and unique perfumes in the whole of Joseon were at his disposal.

Jinu shut the bathroom door harder than necessary behind him. There were things in his past that not even he knew why he had done them.

The sun shone bright when he left his apartment. It had stopped raining half an hour ago, birds were flying around, more pedestrians roaming around and prattling than usual.

Even if he couldn't feel hunger himself, human food still tasted good to him. Paying for something in order to devour it made him feel less guilty than actually devouring lost souls.

Cinnamon, cherry blossoms.

He shook his head.

Since their encounter a week ago, he couldn't stop thinking about the woman in the bakery. How she smelled, how she talked, how she looked at him. She didn’t spare him a second glance. She didn’t scream when she saw him, he wasn’t sure if she even recognized him. And strangely enough, Jinu liked that. It was a change from the fans who usually fawned over him and acted like he was their promised husband and father of their future children.

He didn't want to, he didn’t plan to. He just wanted to stop by the next day, seeing if everything was going fine. The smile on her face when he chose the cinnamon rolls were still etched in the back of his mind. But when he peered through the shop window the day after their encounter, she was nowhere to be seen. So he walked around the block. Maybe she was in the back, in the kitchen, or the storeroom. But when he finished his walk and looked through the window again, the only woman in the shop was an employee over 40.

The wind blew through his hair, begging him to return to reality. There was no reason to think about a bakery employee who had simply sold him a cinnamon roll. He didn't want to be a stalker, like those in the movies he had seen becoming popular over the decades.

Jinu bit his lip. If that were the case, he would also have to think about the saleswoman in the clothing store and the manager for their concerts.

But it couldn’t be described as mere thinking anymore. He was almost embarrassed to have so many thoughts about someone who’s job was to offer him a service.

Get a grip.

What Jinu had learned in his more than 400 years of existence, was that peace, reliability, and good company were characteristics he utterly valued in his life. The second and third were areas for improvement, but he implemented the first into his life as best he could. As peaceful as a demon could exist.

He had been on Earth for several weeks now, their mission to destroy the Honmoon as close to being completed as possible. He was here to steal souls, to destroy them, not to care about their well-being. And he was exceptionally good at stealing souls. Demons could see the worth of a soul just by glancing at a person. There were souls that carried no light within them, souls that were not worth saving. Souls with no value.

These souls were easy targets.

There were hardly any souls left with light within them, souls that tried to live, that protected the flame of purpose within them despite the horrors this world carried.

He had never seen a soul like hers before. Pain, hopelessness, buried under an even greater longing to live, to survive.

A soul written in textbooks. Exactly what they needed.

He tilted his head back.

What was wrong with him? She didn't deserve to be seen as an ingredient. She wasn't a puzzle piece he could grab and adjust until the whole picture was right.

He took a deep breath. She wasn't important. There were plenty of other souls. Weaker souls, souls he didn't have to search for. More work for him.

He didn't care.

The wind blew cold as he turned into a quiet street. He wandered aimlessly, no purpose to his walk.

He stopped. Wind blew in his direction, caressing his face with utter care. Was that... no. He shook his head and walked on. Another gust of wind. A familiar scent, surrounding him, enveloping him, caressing him.

˙⋆✮

"And what did you answer to that?"

Y/N took a sip of her hot chocolate and sighed. She hated coffee; the taste was too bitter to drink every day. But she had a penchant for anything sweet. Her parents used to make snaky jokes about the tooth fairy loving her, because she was going to be her most loyal customer with how much sugar she consumed.

"That I didn't see why I should work another 12-hour shift on a Saturday for the third time in a row, alone with the intern, just because he wanted to go to a resort in Incheon with his mistress."

The man across from her laughed and leaned back in his chair.

"How did you know that the woman next to him was his affair?"

Y/N raised her eyebrow. "Women have a much better sense for these things than you think Joon. I have a sixth sense for shady entities. First of all, I knew he was married, because every year since I started working for him, he took a weekend off in June for his wedding anniversary. Second, his real wife was here last year for the reopening after the big renovation.”

Y/N hummed. Her boss’s wife was a real nice lady, small with a kind smile. What a shame to be tied to an ungrateful cheater who you had children with.

“And third... no man who has been married for 30 years would still deal with the trouble of taking his wife away every week and spending an entire spa weekend on her, three times…back to back.”

She raised her eyebrows and poked her apple pie with her fork.

"I hate men. They will say all women are the same, yet they get upset when you point out their oddly similar and reoccurring behavior."

The man shook his head and took a sip of his cappuccino.

“So you’ve given up on them?”

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. "Difficult to give up something you haven’t even started." Shaking her head, she put her face in her hands.

"I don't know what to do with myself either. On one hand, I don't want to be taken advantage of. I don't want to become one of those crying women who eat tons of ice cream whining about some douchebag. Just thinking about it disgusts me. Being with someone, only for him to break up with me a few weeks later. Or better, a year later! More wasted time."

She sighed.

"But God... I don't want to be lonely. I don't mind being alone, but I don't want to give up the dream of finding someone for myself." Her eyes twinkled as she leaned back in her chair.

"Kind of funny, isn't it?"

Joon just shook his head and sighed. "I'm afraid I can't help you there sweetheart."

Y/N took a sip of her hot chocolate and looked out the window.

"Kind of weird to be the only one not being in a relationship." She shrugged her shoulders and watched people wandering around outside the café.

Her companion eyed her and leaned back in his chair. "You do realize that you're amazing even without someone by your side?"

She laughed, laughed deeply, and put her cup down. "I guess I do. I guess."

Outside, a few teenagers sat drinking juice and eating scrambled eggs with bacon. A mother and her baby sat at a table shaded by a tree, stroller pushed to the side, a cup of steaming something in front of her.

Babies. Y/N hummed and drank the last sip of her chocolate. She always knew she never wanted to have children. The idea of being responsible for another living being, for more than 18 years, was cruel to her. Children were great. She herself had become an aunt two years ago, her older sister now living in Busan with her husband. A niece. Y/N smiled at the thought of her and looked into her empty cup. She loved her, a little angel. But she never wanted children herself. She saw how little time her sister had left for her real family. A repeating pattern.

Y/N shook her head as she looked out of the window again. She would rather put up with 12-hour shifts every Saturday of the week for the rest of her life, than have children of her own.

Her friend sighed and put on his jacket.

"I really hate to leave you alone already, but I still have to pick up the cake for Eric or I won't be able to get everything ready in time."

Eric was Joon's boyfriend from Australia. His family didn't know he was gay, the stigma in South Korea still far too great. You weren't persecuted or arrested for loving the same gender, but it wasn't welcomed. So Joon told his family that Eric was an Erica, and that she was studying in Goyang and therefore couldn't visit him often. His family bought it. He was their only son and they didn't want to scare him away.

Y/N sighed and placed her saucer on his, their cups next to it. "I need to go for a walk anyway. My head's buzzing around like there's no stopping anytime soon." She looked outside and smiled faintly. "Enjoying the five seconds without rain before the flood attacks me again."

Joon laughed and stood up. She looked up at him, stretching as she did the same.

"Is he still calling me halmeoni?"

Joon raised an eyebrow and reached his hand out for their tableware, only to have it slapped away by her hand.

"I could lie."

Y/N rolled her eyes at his answer, somehow managing to put the 2 plates and cups on her left arm.

"Tell the kangaroo I said hi."

Joon laughed and gave her an obscene gesture as he left the café, leaving her behind with the dishes in her arms.

"Idiot."

She shook her head as she placed the dishes on the dish rack. Joon really was a complete idiot, but a nice one. She grabbed her purse and left the café.

The sun was now shining so brightly that she felt ridiculous for taking an umbrella with her when leaving her apartment. Luckily, it was one of those small foldable ones, so she could stow it in her purse.

The teenagers had long since taken off, the weather too nice to stay sitting somewhere the whole time. Y/N frowned. The stroller was still in the same spot under the shaded tree she spotted it in as she looked out the window earlier, but the mother was nowhere to be seen. She hadn't seen her go into the café either.

Y/N sighed and looked to the right and left before approaching the stroller. Her suspicion was confirmed when she spotted a small bundle wrapped in a pink blanket inside, brown button eyes and tiny hands greeting her. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and looked around again.

"Strange."

She looked down at the baby again and turned back to go into the café. One hand wandered to her necklace as she asked the waitress that has been taking her order earlier, if she had seen a young woman enter the café in the last 10 minutes. However, the waitress just shook her head, saying there had been no new guests for 30 minutes.

Y/N frowned as she thanked her and bowed shortly, then went back outside to the stroller. The baby was still lying there, making little whining noises.

She almost wanted to slap her forehead. Of course the baby hadn't suddenly grown wings so it could fly away. But Y/N was glad that no one had taken it.

"I didn't know you had a daughter."

Her body whipped around, bumping into something big and solid.

A chuckle.

“Easy there darling. No need to rush.”

She looked up, an insult already on her tongue, when she faltered. Dark brown eyes. Sandalwood.

"You?"

Jinu laughed as she looked up at him with confused eyes and glanced to the stroller.

"You remember me? Didn’t think I made such a lasting impression on you."

She pursed her lips and looked away.

"I have many customers. Of course I remember those who buy my pastries."

He tilted his head and hummed.

"You look tired."

Her head snapped up, and he quickly raised his hands in appeasement.

"You still look pretty."

His cheeks were now a light pink color, and Y/N had to fight to hide the small smile that threatened to escape her.

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. "Are you planning to cuddle up to me all day? Not that I'm complaining."

Y/N's eyes widened when she realized that her upper body was still pressed against his, and she quickly took a step back. Or two.

Jinu looked her up and down, and this time it was he who had to smile. "Nice rainy weather outfit."

Y/N narrowed her eyes and looked down at herself. She had put on her black rain boots, which were now making her feet sweat rather than protecting them from the wetness.

And...the dress.

Black with spaghetti straps, barely covering half of her thighs.

Y/N cleared her throat. Suddenly even the little fabric she had on, felt too hot.

"You look good for being an eomma already."

Her eyebrows furrowed before she widened her eyes.

"That's not mine. I think her mother left her here."

Now it was Jinu's turn to look confused.

"She was sitting here the whole time while I was inside with my friend, and suddenly she was gone when I came out. She didn't come back to the café either," she explained.

Jinu frowned.

"Have you called the police yet?"

Y/N sighed. Why hadn't she thought of that?

She just shook her head and pulled her phone out of her pocket.

But the police officer on the phone told her they couldn't send a patrol at the moment. An armed robbery in the city center had required all their officers. If the mother had been gone for more than 30 minutes, they should take the child to the nearest police station and call child protective services, CPS, from there.

Y/N huffed when she ended the call.

Jinu looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He had excellent hearing and could hear everything the man told her on the phone, but of course he wouldn't tell her that.

What harm was there in listening to her voice a little longer?

Y/N threw her cell phone into her purse and sighed as she looked at the now whining baby.

"Police is busy with a robbery right now. Armed and stuff. We're supposed to take her to the nearest station and then call child protective services."

Jinu hummed and nodded.

"But we have to wait another 10 minutes until half an hour is up. He said the mother might come back."

Jinu frowned and shook his head.

"The baby doesn't even look older than 3 months. Who leaves their almost newborn alone in a stroller?"

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. Her heart almost broke as the little girl's cries grew louder.

She tapped her foot on the sidewalk. She looked up at the sky. Watched how the birds flew around the trees.

"Screw it."

She stretched out her arms and carefully lifted the little creature out of the stroller, taking care to support her head, and laid her against her shoulder.

“You! Take my purse and the stroller. I don’t believe a bit that her mother will turn up even if we wait the whole day.”

Jinu raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

If he was being honest, he liked her bossy tone. But only if he was being honest.

He took her pink purse off her shoulder, careful not to touch her arm, and placed it in the stroller.

There was silence between them as they walked down the street. He was all too aware of the stares from passers-by. He had forgotten to pull his hood back over his head, which he had taken off when he spotted Y/N in front of the café.

He wouldn't have minded if she had a child.

He narrowed his eyes and looked at the path ahead as he pushed the stroller in front of him. He didn't need to care about something like that.

He could already see the headlines in the fan magazines. Tilting his head back, he groaned silently. He didn’t want to listen to his groups lash-out tomorrow.

"So I guess you don't have any children?"

She looked up at him, and God, the way she had to crane her neck up to look at him, did something to him. He quickly looked away, but his gaze found hers again immediately.

"Nope. But I have a niece. She's 2, so not quite a baby anymore."

Jinu nodded and looked back at the road ahead. "I have—had a little sister. She was nine." He smiled painfully at the thought of her. "I was over the moon when I found out I was going to be a big brother. Unfortunately, I could never get her to be interested in my hobbies. She was always a free spirit."

Y/N smiled, and he couldn't look away when he caught it. She didn't dwell on the fact that he had spoken of his sister in the past tense, stroking the baby's back reassuringly.

She had no right to probe further.

Relief washed over her as the police station came into view.

Inside, they already knew about their arrival and immediately notified CPS. When the lady arrived, she smiled politely when she saw her before taking the baby into her arms.

"You could almost think it was yours."

She looked at the two of them and hummed a tune as she carefully placed the baby in the stroller and gave her her handbag back. She was fast asleep, tired from the morning sun and the clouds that were now gathering again.

Y/N blushed and wanted to say something, but Jinu beat her to it.

“It was good practice”, he thanked the woman.

Y/N blushed even more, stepping on his foot to make him finally shut up.

Jinu had to bite his lip.

This woman.

No, he would not steal her soul. And should anyone even try, he would banish them to depths deeper than hell.

Y/N sighed as the woman pushed the stroller out to her work vehicle and strapped the baby into an infant seat in the front passenger seat.

"What will happen to her now?"

The woman turned to her and smiled weakly. "Well, she'll probably be placed with foster parents until we find the mother or father. The mother will likely be charged with child endangerment."

She looked at the two of them one last time before getting into her vehicle.

"It's nice to know that there are still good people out there."

With that, she drove away, the child now being in safe hands.

Jinu shuddered.

Good people.

He didn't know if that applied to him. Either of those words.

"What's your name, anyway?"

The soft voice beside him woke him from his thoughts, making him look down at her standing there all squeaky on her tip toes.

"Jinu."

Y/N raised her eyebrow when he didn't say anything else.

God, he was tall. At least 6 feet, muscular through and through-

She cleared her throat.

"And what can I call you?"

She looked up at him and struggled not to lose herself in the depths of his eyes.

His voice was like a hand between her legs.

"Y/N."

Y/N.

He knew the name. Something buzzed inside him, something that had been asleep for a long time.

She cleared her throat and reached for her necklace.

"I guess it was nice to see you again, Jinu."

With that, she turned and walked down the street. Jinu stood still, the sound of his name on her tongue mesmerizing.

Y/N.

This time, she was the one to leave first.

Leaving the other speechless.

Distraught. With an incredible urge not to let the other go.

Then the headlines came.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

Thank you for reading! If you enjoy reading this, I would appreciate a like, reblog, or a comment! I love that there are more stories about the movie out now. I still have to read them all. I’m still hopeful for a second movie <3 Sorry if I forgot to tag anyone, tagging almost took longer than the actual writing ᥫ᭡.

Comment if you would like to be tagged in a potential part 3! Requests for this movie are open ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

What do you think will happen in ch.3? Vote here!

Who wants to be tagged in a preview to ch.3?

Authors note (info) about Chapter 3

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˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

[prythiansprincess]

i fear we need more like.. manipulation best friend enzo. maybe this time it’s his best friends sister? like theo’s twin sister who’s a gryffindor. 🙏🏻

— honey, are you coming?

NAVIGATION // inbox. tags. writing. library.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: honey (are you coming?) by maneskin.

author’s note: ask and you shall receive. you guys know I can't say no to manipulative best friend! enzo. even better if he's being a sneaky little shit to get with his mate’s sister behind his back 🤭

forbidden.

that's what you were. as theo's twin sister, enzo was perfectly aware that you were off-limits, but no amount of threats from his best mate could ever keep him away from you. the temptation was too strong and enzo simply couldn't resist.

enzo always got what he wanted.

and what he wanted was you.

so he bided his time. enzo knew that theo would never let him near his precious baby sister unless he played the part. the protective best friend: a confidante, a companion, and a constant shadow that threatened bodily harm to any prat stupid enough to even breathe the same air as you.

this little act of his worked like a charm. over time, theo wrote enzo off as harmless. your older brother let his guard down enough for him to find an opening. soon, the two of you became inseperable. you confided in him. you told him your thoughts, your fears, your insecurities. enzo knew anything and everything about you.

you trusted him.

theo trusted him.

everything was going according to plan.

"my brother has officially lost it! I mean, the audacity of him to ban me from dating when he has a new girl in his bed every other night is beyond me." you ranted, pacing back and forth in enzo's dorm. "he's such a fucking hypocrite."

"you know he means well," enzo consoled, his brows furrowing in concern. "theo may not show it in the best way, but he's just trying to be a good brother."

you rolled your eyes. "you always take his side."

"that's not true and you know it. i'm always on your side, honey," enzo drawled, reaching out to rub your hands between his. "in this case, though, I can hardly blame theo. I mean, what the hell was mclaggen thinking when he asked you out? he's not good enough for you."

"you say that about every guy that asks me out, enz."

enzo looked up, his warm brown eyes meeting yours. "because it's true," he declared. "no one will ever be good enough for you."

you sighed. "this is exactly why i'm convinced that i'm going to die alone."

"you won't be alone," enzo said cheerfully. "you'll have me."

you rolled your eyes fondly, but softened as enzo tugged you between his legs. "now come over here, pretty girl. I think you just need a good cuddle to help you get sorted."

enzo watched as you climbed in beside him. his quidditch jersey that you had claimed long ago barely reached the top of your thighs and as the fabric skimmed your soft skin, he couldn't help but feel ridiculously jealous of the article of clothing for having the privilege of touching you.

but he'd soon rectify that.

you squealed as enzo pulled you closer, pressing your back into his solid chest. behind you, enzo hummed in satisfaction as you cuddled closer. his large hands gripped your hips while he positioned you right where he wanted you. with your arse pressed against his front, enzo released a throaty groan that made you shiver.

"are you cold, honey?" enzo whispered, his voice a dark and seductive caress.

you barely managed a nod before enzo's large hands traveled underneath the hem of your shirt, his warm touch making contact with your soft and supple skin. the callouses on his hands felt rough in contrast, but you found that you really didn't mind. you just wanted him to touch you more.

"you're freezing, sweetheart," enzo drawled. "do you want me to warm you up?"

"y—yes please."

enzo caressed your thighs, kneading and massaging your legs as you melted into his touch. you sighed in satisfaction as he shifted, dragging his hands higher and tracing circles on your hips. the skin to skin contact felt so good, but you wanted more. you needed more.

as if reading your mind, enzo flattened his palm against your stomach, burying his nose in your neck as you hummed in approval. the two of you had always been touchy and affectionate, but he was well aware that he was currently walking a very fine line. your reaction encouraged him to push a little further as he brushed his knuckles against your ribs and teased right below your bra.

enzo toyed with the hook of your bra. "do you want me to take this off?" he asked innocently. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable, honey."

you blinked, face heating as his words settled in. "o —okay, enz."

the swiftness in which enzo unhooked your bra had you reeling. you only realized it was off when he carelessly tossed it behind his shoulder. squirming in anticipation, you felt a familiar ache building within you as enzo continued stroking your back. his knuckles traced a line down your spine, your frustrations mounting as he touched you everywhere except right where you wanted him.

you whined as enzo kissed your shoulder. “enz…”

“yes, honey?”

“I — I want…”

“what is it, pretty girl? use your words. you know i’ll do anything you ask.”

you barely had time to think before the words slipped out. “touch me, please.”

the neediness dripping from your lips made enzo smirk. this was exactly what he planned. “where do you want me to touch you, sweetheart?”

enzo moved his hand higher and cupped your tit. “here?”

you groaned as he slid his hand down to your arse before squeezing gently. “or maybe here?”

your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head when he slipped his hand down your panties, palming your warmth as he trailed kisses down your neck. “right here?”

enzo circled your clit, eliciting a shameless moan from your lips. “I think I found the spot.”

as he rubbed the sensitive bundle of nerves, you arched into his palm, eager for friction. “spread your legs, sweetheart,” he whispered before gently nibbling on your ear lobe.

you teetered somewhere between pleasure and logic. the voice in the back of your mind expressed its concern despite your desire to ignore it and give in. “enz — I don’t think — we shouldn’t do this.”

“why not?”

you turned to find enzo looking at you, his warm honey eyes now sharp with lust. “because we’re friends,” you reasoned. “best friends.”

“so? who better to get you off than me? I know you like the back of my hand and I’d like to make you see heaven with my fingers.” enzo paused, scanning your face. “unless you don’t want that.”

“I — I do. but what if my brother finds out? he’d kill you.”

“don’t worry, pretty girl. theo will never find out. i’ll take good care of you.” enzo teased your slit and licked a stripe along your neck. “now spread those fucking legs for me, honey.”

you obliged, spreading your legs wide as enzo filled you with his fingers. your pussy squelched as you sucked him right in, covering him in your juices as he fingered you relentlessly. as warmth spread in your core, you chased after the feeling and rode his hand.

“that’s it, sweetheart. ride my fingers just like that. use me to get yourself off. that’s what friends are for, right?”

“best friends,” you responded cheekily.

“best friends,” enzo repeated before making you cum all over his fingers.

you hadn’t even recovered from the first orgasm before he brought you to the edge again, soaking his hand with your juices as you gripped his bicep and left nail marks in your wake.

enzo grabbed your chin and gave you a dirty, filthy kiss as he tugged your soaked panties off. as he pulled his boxers down, you gasped at the hardness pressed against your arse. you wanted him so bad you felt fucking dizzy with the force of it, but the worries couldn’t help but linger.

“wait, enz — what if this ruins our friendship? what if things are never the same again?”

enzo pulled back and stroked your cheek. “i’d never let that happen, honey. don’t you trust me? I always take care of you, don’t I?”

“of course I trust you.”

“do you want me as bad as I want you?”

“fuck yes. obviously. I just —“

“you just need to stop overthinking things,” enzo countered. “if it makes you feel better, I’ll only put the tip in. nothing less, nothing more. I promise, sweetheart.”

you bit your lip as he teased his tip between your folds. “okay. just the tip, right?”

“mhm,” enzo said as he pushed past your folds. “just the tip, honey.”

even with his slow and shallow thrusts, you could feel your pussy stretching to take more. enzo cursed as your warmth hugged around him, warm and welcoming, beckoning him further in.

“fuck, you feel so good. been dreaming about this for so long, y/n.”

the way he slid the tip of his cock in and out of you was torturous. you clawed at his arms, gasping and moaning as your pussy clenched. now that you knew what enzo felt like, you wanted more. you wanted all of him.

“enz, oh gods. I need more. please.”

enzo smirked. “yeah? you want your best friend to stuff you full? gonna beg for my cock, sweetheart?”

“yes, yes, please. I need you to fill me up. wanna feel all of you, baby.”

without a word, enzo flipped you over and positioned you in his lap. he laid back on his pillow and watched with lust blown eyes as you lowered yourself on his cock. every delicious inch filled you to the hilt, stuffing you full in the best way possible.

biting your lip, you began to rock your hips to a steady rhythm. you gasped as enzo tugged you down to him, his lips crashing against yours in desperation. his moans were shameless as you bounced on him. enzo squeezed your arse as you picked up the pace, riding him hard and fast.

“take it, honey. it’s yours.”

“oh god, enzo i’m gonna cum —“

enzo held your hips in place and thrust up, fucking into you as his thumb circled your clit. “come on, pretty girl. give it to me. cum all over my cock.”

his filthy words broke you, sending a wave of pleasure that nearly knocked you off kilter. enzo fucked you through the orgasm, his warm honey eyes sticky and golden as he drank in the sight of you losing control. he didn’t stop even when you creamed him from base to tip.

instead, enzo flipped you on your back and continued pumping in and out of you. “don’t wanna stop, honey. you feel too fucking good. I could do this forever. tell me I can, baby. tell me I can fuck you any time I want.”

“oh fuck,” you moaned. “yes, yes, gods. you can fuck me whenever and wherever, enzo.”

“that’s right, honey. I don’t give a fuck what your brother says. he’ll never find out anyways. this’ll be our little secret, right?”

dazed, you licked your lips and nodded as enzo hiked your leg over his shoulder and thrusted deeper. “our little secret.”