summary: fate drives the last piece of the puzzle to take down your worst enemy right into your hands in the form of han jisung. you don't expect him to take your whole world, and turn it upside down. Worming his way into your crew, into your heart – and your complicated relationship with Minho. redefining what it means to live and to love, despite it all.
word count: ∼65k
series warnings: 🔞 smut and angst, but also, this is a pirate story, so we are dealing with period typical warnings! There is blood; violence; abuse; murder; death (not of any main characters!!); mentions of parent and pet death; grief; mentions of prostitution and sexual assault (not graphic, in the history of main characters); consensual sexual intercourse, also under the influence; unprotected sex with the pullout method (condoms weren’t invented yet, okay; pulling out does not work!! don’t do it!! this is fiction!!); lots of mxm action, everyone loves everyone here
epigraph
chapter I - coming: friday, march 8, 3pm CET
chapter II - coming: friday, march 15, 3pm CET
chapter III - coming: friday, march 22, 3pm CET
chapter IV - coming: friday, march 29, 3pm CET
chapter V - coming: friday, april 5, 3pm CET
chapter VI - coming: friday, april 12, 3pm CET
chaper VII - coming: friday, april 19, 3pm CET
chapter VIII - coming: friday, april 26, 3pm CET
chapter IX - coming: friday, may 3, 3pm CET
interlude
chapter X - coming: friday, may 10, 3pm CET
chapter XI - coming: friday, may 17, 3pm CET
interlude
chapter XII - epilogue - coming: friday, may 24 3pm CET
*chapters in italics are supplemental poems
skzms' masterlist // ko-fi
disclaimer: before someone comes into my inbox - I know pirates wouldn’t bathe much while at sea, that they didn’t eat this lavishly, that women weren’t allowed on ships because they were supposedly bad luck, and I also know that absinthe doesn’t actually fuck you up. I did research, but I also tweaked the colonial history of the bahamas to my liking because - this is a sexy little pirate fanfic, and I make the rules. don't @ me, I will not engage.
huge, and I mean gigantic shoutout to the love of my life @stayconnecteed for sending in the ask that started it all. this series wouldn't exist without you!! I'm so serious!! thank you!!
🔖 series taglist and general taglist open!
if you're on my general taglist, you will automatically be tagged in this series!
to be added to either, have your age on your blog and reply here or message to be added! pls state which one you want to be added to
“This,” Y/N yawned sleepily as she finished wriggling around, trying to find the comfiest position. “Is my favourite part of the day.”
From underneath her, Chan started to laugh. He tightened his bare arms around his wife's torso and kissed the top of her head. “Me too.”
It was just after nine in the evening; it was one of those rare evenings where both Y/N and Chan had nothing left to do, and with nothing better to do, they had decided to go to bed early. Their surroundings happened to be perfect; thick lashings of rain spilled over the windows, the tap-tap of the raindrops soothing to the soul. A subtle chill swirled across the room, and Y/N snuggled further into the sheets.
Skin against skin, limb against limb, Chan and Y/N were already in the limbo stage of not yet being asleep, but not quite being awake. Chan's fingers trailed up and down Y/N's skin; slow and gentle, the very tips of fingers grazed against the middle of her back, each one of his touches deliberate and affectionate. The sensation flooded Y/N's skin with goosebumps and she hugged her husband tighter, her cheek warm against the steady beating of his heart.
“I love you,” Chan murmured under his breath as he curled his hand around the back of his wife's head. He leaned down gently and pressed another kiss to her temple before resting his head back against the pillow.
His voice rumbled through the hot skin of his chest and buzzed against Y/N's face. She smiled at the feeling; just before sleep could tug at them both, she turned her head slightly and her lips lingered over Chan's chest in a responding kiss. She caught glimpse of the man's red cheeks turning up in the shadows as he smiled, and with a sleepy smile of her own she caressed his lips with her own before letting her head fall into the warmth of the crook of his neck.
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Tag list ~ @koos-euphoria @raethethey @hotmesshapa @manonblackbeak-trash @hendsernoodle @stanskzseungmin @ateez-babygirl @dalamjisung @dinosdawn @cookiemonstermusic258 @strwbrryfroyo @gazelle-des-pres @qtieskz @stigmvta @necromancersupreme @super-btstrash-posts @changlix-mp4 @exonations @changboobies @jeyelleohe @planetdemon @dani41 @jumbocircus @octalalica @velvetand-roses @foivetimesacharm @waverzzzzzzzz @peachy-flxwr @elizabeth11moreno @lenfilms @xhazmania @starshine-moon @snow-pegasus @bbychannie97 @laylasbunbunny @americanokisses @bluechans @bellamuerte1987 @meowmeowisdaname @chanssmiles @minunivers @septicrebel @bangchans-angel @spacegirlstuff @stayconnecteed @linogatinho @smutdumpskz @yeonjunarchives-posts @dprkbyn (let me know if you wanna be added or removed)
Synopsis: Caught in a stressful situation, you do the only thing you can think of - texting your friend's older brother, Chan. However, was that really the better option?
General Warnings: Smut (specifics under the cut), unwilling drug use and comedown, swearing
Word count: 10.5k
Strayerthings Masterlist
a/n: Hey readers! Long time no see - hope your holidays were fantastic. As promised, I'm releasing this in January. Please let me know your thoughts and don't forget to reblog! There is a sensitive scene filled with macho bullshit at the start but it doesn't last long. I must say, writing for Chan is always such a ride. Anyways, enjoy! 🖤🌻
“Look at Y/n for example, she’s hot but also a gaming nerd obsessed with Kpop so she hardly gets any. We should be going after girls like that since they’re not the sluts showing their tits on OnlyFans.”
You slid further into the couch, trying to make yourself look small. Your mind was a haze and you could hardly stand up for yourself like you normally would. Your colleague was making the most ridiculous, sexist statements that screamed ‘Andrew Tate’ but all you could do was try and hide your shaking nerves. It had gotten so bad that your teeth were chattering. Jack had always been nice to you and you thought he was a solid guy but a different side was brought out when he revealed the party favours. You had accepted the invitation to his house warming without worrying about what the night would hold - your plan was to show up, act impressed at the large space, have one drink and then bounce. It couldn’t have been further from the truth because now you were sitting in a room with around six people, coming down from the coke they had pressured you into taking (you were too inebriated to say no) and he was spouting all this bullshit about how women were always out to get each other and kissing you all over your face. The more invasive he got about your body, your sex life and the inferiority of women, the more you froze up. You had never felt so unsafe before so you stumbled to the bathroom, trying to think fast - who could you message to come get you? It was 3 am in the city and most people were either too drunk or asleep. Who could you count on to always answer the phone? Who would you feel safe with whilst coming down? The questions were racing through your brain and you were about to give up when a name hit you square in the face. He was here. You thought hard about this - he had arrived the previous day and you hadn’t seen him in years. Would you really want your friend’s older brother seeing you high? Yes, you had kept in touch over the years - he had even gotten you a VIP ticket at a discount price - but this was too much. Suddenly, a knocking startled you out of your reverie.
“Y/n?”
It was Jack.
“What are you doing in there? Do another line with us because you’re looking way too sober, you can stay over!”
Oh fuck no.
You texted Chan.
You didn’t know how much time had passed - perched miserably on the couch, staring into space when a banging was heard over the music. The others looked at each other warily and a girl proceeded to open the door, widening her eyes. In strode a medium-length broad-chested man wearing a tight black t-shirt, ripped jeans and a black cap pulled low over his face. His silver earring glinted in the soft lighting. He tipped his head at her slightly and then lifted his head, serious eyes searching for something. When they landed on you, his jaw clenched. Hard. You struggled to focus but you were pretty sure you looked wrecked. Crossing the room, he knelt down at your side, glaring at the guy next to you who shifted further away.
“Y/n.”
“Channie,” you breathed out, relief etched across your features.
He cupped your cheek softly and sucked in a breath, finally taking note of the situation. When he saw the white lines of powder on the mirror in the middle of the table, his head whipped back to you with a questioning frown - you could only nod in response, too ashamed to admit to it verbally. His frown deepened and you instinctively cowered back in response - why did you think it was a good idea to text him? But, as if he knew what you were thinking, he grabbed your hand and rubbed soothing circles into the back of it, trying his best to school his expression.
“Knew it was too good to be true.”
Why couldn’t he just shut up? Chan shifted himself so that he was facing the rest of the room, scowl deepening with every second.
“What?”
Jack eyed him from where he was pacing, “I said it was too good to be true. Here I was, thinking that Y/n was so innocent - I was actually telling her to go to Korea to hook up before she grows old in order to satisfy her curiosity. With that hair, those tits and face - they would definitely notice her! But I had no idea she had already found herself one. Careful, Y/n, don’t turn into one of those loose bitches.”
There was so much to unpack here and your eyes widened in horror, frustrated tears pooling in your eyes. How dare this asshole speak about a culture like that? All you did was appreciate Kpop, the fact that he had implied it was a fetish for you had your brain spiraling. You didn’t even care about the remarks about your body - he had insinuated that you were sleeping with Chan and that you were only sleeping with him because he was Korean. You didn’t know where to look, humiliated and furious beyond belief. You opened your mouth, about to rip him a new one, but the man next to you had stood up, hands balled lightly into fists and eyes stern.
“Say one more thing to her and I’ll tear your head off.”
You couldn’t look up, too anxious to lift your head but the tone of his voice sent a ripple of fear through you. You could see it mirrored in the others’ faces because they immediately grabbed Jack and whispered in his ear. He casually sat down with a grin.
“I’m just messing around, man, what you do with your free time is not my problem. You sound like you’re from around here - have a line with us, let’s chat. What’s your type?”
Oh, this guy was deranged. Chan turned to you again, trying to meet your eyes in order to assess the damage. When he saw the panic he gently helped you up, pushing past the others with an arm around your shoulders. He silently led you down the stairs and while you waited for an uber, he held you close. You shook in his warmth, his strong arms encircling you - you were too embarrassed to look at him and he knew this so he whispered soothing words into your ear. He helped you into the car and when the driver set off, he started to talk.
“You all right?”
You studiously avoided him and he gently touched your hand, waiting a while before trying again.
“Y/n, look at me.”
You sighed and looked at him from the corner of your eye. He noticed something outside the window and straightened up.
“We can talk inside.”
Inside? You saw that you were entering an underground carpark of a hotel and turned to face him fully with an eyebrow cocked.
“You can’t honestly believe I would drop you off at your place after all that’s happened, right? Especially in this condition…” His voice had softened and he was back to stroking your hand. You just blinked and turned away again, feeling his hand retract.
When the car stopped, he opened the door for you, guiding you in with a gentle hand on the small of your back. He pulled out a keycard and you were ushered into an elevator. A thought struck you and you forced out a hushed question.
“Chan, we’re not going to your room, are we? What if the others found out?”
“Don’t worry, I booked another room as soon as you texted.”
Oh. You felt something that you couldn’t identify. Why would he do all this for you? Where was the boy who would push you into the pool as kids, who’d lock you out the house when you came over? You studied him surreptitiously - at least, you thought you were discreet. It had been years since you’d last seen him - you had obviously seen photos and videos, being a fan of their music, but nothing compared to the real thing. His shoulders had broadened, his face had become more defined and the look in his eyes had matured. When did his arms turn into those? Even in your beaten down state, you could appreciate this evolution. But you shook your head, you would not think of him like that. You hadn’t really spoken to his sister since you grew apart in first year but it was still slightly odd to find her brother attractive. You’d had a puppy crush on him back then but wasn’t that normal? It didn’t feel normal right now. You felt like a creep and tried not to let your admiration show. He and Lily only had a few years between them and you used to go over there quite often as kids which is why you had exchanged the odd message every couple years or so. He must have seen you as the annoyance of his childhood - especially now. He led you to your room at the end of the corridor, keeping his hand on you. You wished he would let go and just step back.
When you were inside he turned to you.
“Have a seat and I’ll be right back.”
You grabbed his hand as he tried to walk past you, silently asking him not to leave you. He removed his hand carefully and cupped your face, murmuring, “Don’t worry, I’m just getting you some clothes. Take a shower and I’ll be back before you know it.”
You slowly nodded and took a deep breath, watching him leave then you looked around. The room was magnificent. Everything was lit up in a soft, golden glow and the furniture was plush and new. The bed was monstrous and looked like you would sink straight into the mattress. But none of that registered with you - you felt disgusting. A dark cloud of insecurity had settled over you, chilling you to the bone. You had never done that particular drug before but the comedown was bleak. You felt so vulnerable, convinced that no one would be there for you. If Chan hadn’t been in the country, how would this night have ended? The chill had numbed you, made you apathetic - you were upset but couldn’t get the emotion out. You wandered into the bathroom, hoping the heat from the shower would warm you up and get you to feel something.
A soft knock on the door had you startling out of your thought process. Chan’s voice came through, telling you he had left the clothes outside the bathroom. You heard his footsteps retreat back into the room. When had he gotten back? You realised you’d been in the shower for a while, trying to get the heat back into your bones but it hadn’t worked. You felt cold. Cold and alone. You wrapped a towel around your shivering shoulders and cracked the door open, swiping an arm out for the clothing. You pulled on the navy blue t-shirt which was wonderfully baggy and settled on your thighs but the pyjama trousers were way too uncomfortable so you decided to forgo those. You were now faced with a dilemma - do you don your underwear or do you go commando in order to separate yourself from the night’s events? You skipped the panties. The shirt was so long that he wouldn’t notice anyway - at least, you hoped not.
You exited the room, still feeling nothing but the biting cold. Chan was settled on a champagne coloured armchair on the other side of the room, freshly showered and dressed in a black t-shirt and soft, cotton shorts. His dark hair was still damp and he was busy running his hand through it, looking tired. As soon as he saw you he froze, eyes raking down your bare legs. You almost felt a spark. Almost. When he noticed you shudder, he nodded towards the bedside table closest to him where a steaming cup of tea sat. You gingerly walked around the bed to his side and opened the duvet, sliding into the bed and propping yourself up against the headboard as gracefully as possible - your mind was still numb yet full of images, you needed this cloying frost to dissipate.
“Y/n.”
You lifted your mouth from the cup, sighing in defeat as the hot water still did nothing for your nerves. You wanted to scream but the emotion was so deeply embedded into your chest that you couldn’t claw it out.
“Y/n.”
You met his gaze timidly. He was bent over, resting his elbows on his muscular thighs to be closer to you and you took in every detail. Tired but warm eyes, curly hair, prominent nose and a plush mouth. A plush mouth that was pulled down in a concerned grimace. Again, you almost felt something stir.
“How are you feeling?”
You cleared your throat and willed yourself to speak but only a whisper was heard, “Better now, thanks to you.”
He narrowed his eyes but did not refute you.
“What happened tonight?”
“I went to a housewarming party and took drugs, that’s all.” You couldn’t bear to go into details, it was all too raw.
“Did you accept the coke willingly?”
You thought about it, did you consent? To be honest, you couldn’t remember much of how it started.
“Well, I didn’t say no…”
“Were you drunk when they offered you some?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever taken it before?”
“No.”
“Fuck.”
“I’m sorry..”
Chan snapped his head up from where he had been glaring at the floor and looked at you in confusion, “For what?”
You didn’t want to talk about it but knew you had to since you owed him that much, “For what he said. About you. You have to know - that isn’t - I would never…” Chan made a furious noise at the back of his throat.
“Don’t apologise for that asshole! You have nothing to feel guilty about - how long have we known each other? I know you. You have a kind and beautiful soul. God, when he said those things about you, about your body - I thought I was going to have to bury a corpse. You don’t go near him again, got it?”
You didn’t respond, looking down at your hands until you felt him remove your cup.
“Hey. Don’t cry, I’m here now - you’re safe.” You hadn’t even registered the icy droplets running down your cheeks. He grabbed your hand and looked into your eyes, “How are you feeling? Are you sober?”
You numbly nodded your head and stated in a small voice, “I can’t feel anything except the cold - I can’t warm up.”
“Here, move up.” He slipped into the bed and tugged you down, coaxing you into turning on your side and wrapping his arms around you - effectively spooning you. Your breath hitched in your throat as you finally felt a spark of heat run up your back. Turns out, you needed to feel safe in order to heat up. But it was still not enough. Chan felt you shiver and pulled you closer, not an inch of space between you. He then started talking in order to distract you.
“Are you still a horror fanatic?”
“What?”
“I remember you and Lily being obsessed with those god-awful movies about possession and zombies - remember thinking, how could these munchkins enjoy that stuff? But then, your true colours revealed themselves and I was more terrified of you two, to be honest.”
You chuckled weakly along with him and bit back, “Hey, it’s not my fault you were scared of your own shadow - you made it way too easy to get back at you for all the times you’d bully us.” He shifted behind you with a sound of incredulity, “Excuse me, how was I able to be the bully when two vicious girls were ganging up on me all the time. If anything, I’m the victim here.” He giggled, hugging you tighter instinctively and you bit back a gasp. His face was now buried in your neck and you suddenly lost the ability to breathe.
“Do you ever talk to Lily?” He murmured against your skin.
Sighing, you felt yourself grow sad again. “No… I let us drift at uni, didn’t make enough effort with all the shit I had going on. I feel so guilty, she must hate -” He cut you off, turning you to face him.
“Hey. No, she doesn’t. I know my sister and she has a tendency to get swept up in her own life, she is just as much to blame and she’ll come around if you reach out. Besides, no one could ever hate you.”
He stared into your eyes for a couple seconds and you felt yourself heat up some more. But it was still not enough. The frost would dissipate for a few moments and then insidiously pull you back in again. At this point, you didn’t know what to do and he must have recognised the insecurity in your eyes because he gently brushed your hair away from your face.
“Y/n…” he breathed. “What’s up?”
Your lip trembled.
“I’m so cold.”
“Still?”
The frustration pulled at his features as his mind raced. He entwined his legs with yours and stroked your hair and then… And then he softly pressed his full lips against your forehead, lingering. The warmth trickled from that point all the way to your toes and you let out a relieved sigh. He took note and rested his forehead against yours - the calm gradually stretched until it twisted into something else, something heavy. It built until he tilted your face up slowly but instead of stopping there, he searched your eyes carefully and found whatever he was looking for because his own widened and you felt his heart race as he pressed his nose against yours.
You felt dizzy but this was the boost of emotion you were chasing so you closed the distance and brushed your lips against his. It wasn’t fireworks, not by a long shot. It was the comfort you needed which was a million times better. You moved slowly in tandem, experimentally angling your heads and applying different degrees of pressure - when you accepted his silky tongue he melted into your mouth, hand moving down to your hip.
You couldn’t believe this was happening - kissing Channie after all these years was never on the agenda. You were so lost in your head that when he made a strangled noise and pulled back, staring at you in a panic, you were thoroughly confused. Did you do something wrong? Were you a bad kisser?
“You’re not wearing any underwear!”
Oh. Right. Fuck.
You looked down quickly, realising he had been stroking your naked hip under the shirt. Where his fingers trailed, a line of fire was left in their wake - the desire was clogging your throat. Not enough. He made to disentangle himself but you weren’t about to let that happen so you pulled him back, swinging your leg over his hip, grinding up against his clothed erection. You both keened hard into each other’s mouths, caught up in the situation. The frosty darkness had started to seep from you entirely and you felt the knot unravel in your chest but all of a sudden, Chan pulled back, panic flitting across his face again. His chest was heaving in exertion and something else, you weren’t sure what.
“We can’t… we can’t do this.”
“Why!” Your outburst shocked the both of you but you didn’t care. Anything to feel. Anything to get rid of the gnawing ache of fear inside of you.
“Please, Chan, please, I need this. I need to feel warm, I need to feel safe, I need to get rid of this pain, I can’t….” You didn’t even notice the tears running down your face in absolute devastation. He quickly moved back in and cupped your face, whispering, “Hey, sshh, sweetheart, you’re okay. You’re okay. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
You quietened down, soft whimpers falling from your lips as he gently pushed you onto your back and caged you in. He lifted up to rip his shirt off and then leaned back over you, bringing his lips down to yours. When you tried to remove yours too, however, he grabbed your wrists to stop you.
“If we’re doing this, we’re doing this my way.” Never breaking eye contact, he parted your legs and settled between them. He brushed your hair to the side and when he started to softly suck a mark into your neck, his hips started rolling. And rolling. And rolling.
“Fuck, Channie!”
You were in agony. There was so much, almost too much. His strong arms kept you close, the heat from his shining chest washing over you - you were separated by the thin layer of his cotton shorts but nothing could prevent you from feeling his enormous, leaking member grinding against your pulsing clit. You begged to remove your shirt but he wouldn’t let you, hands staying over the material - he didn’t even caress your breasts. You couldn’t worry about it though, not when he was giving it to you so good.
“I-I think I’m gonna cum,” you panted against his skin to which he groaned a response.
“Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby?” He started sucking harsher marks onto your collar bones, speeding up his movements.
“Cum for me, sweetheart.”
The orgasm ripped through you - it was unlike anything you had ever felt before, the fire spread over you, burning everything in its wake.
You were finally safe.
When he was sure you had come down from your high, he lifted his head, looking at you. Simply looking at you with blown pupils and you had no idea what he was thinking but, at that moment, you didn’t mind. He kissed you sweetly and rolled off you, spooning you again. Before you drifted off, you heard a faint murmur into your hair.
“Good night, baby girl.”
The sun was high in the sky when you woke up. When you woke up alone in a hotel room, to be exact. You tried to rack your brain in your sleepy state and it took you a few moments but boy, did it pay off when the memories came rushing back. Chan had brought you here. Chan had brought you here and you’d had dry sex. But wait… You sat up swiftly. Where did he go? Did he not enjoy it? You remembered your mindblowing orgasm but couldn’t remember his. Oh god. You had embarrassed yourself. You had begged him to fuck you and he hadn’t even enjoyed it. You had taken advantage of him in your desperate state and it was a pity fuck. Quite frankly, you wanted to disappear. As you turned around to bury yourself into the pillow, two foreign items on the bedside table caught your eye - a coffee cup and a paper bag. There was no note. Good old Chan, despite thinking you were pathetic, he still took care of you. You grabbed your phone off the table, checking for messages but none were from him. What was interesting was the notification you received about a concert that night - a certain Stray Kids concert you would be attending as a VIP. You sucked in a deep breath and then let out a huge..
“FUCK!”
“What’s he staring at?”
“I don’t think it’s a what, I think it’s a who.”
“I can hear you.”
Chan turned around from where he had been standing backstage and the two who had been observing him, Hyunjin and Jisung, took the opportunity to sneak around him. They craned their necks as they located the object of his scrutiny. The smaller crowd had walked in to see their soundcheck and so it was easy to spot you.
“Ahhhh is that the girl you raced to help last night, Ch-rizz-topher?”
“Ooh I can see why, she’s hot!”
“Shut the fuck up, Hyunjin.” Chan rubbed his temple and stared at you again, brows furrowing as he noticed a young guy lead you to your seat, hand on your lower back. He couldn’t blame him though - you looked amazing. You were wearing a tight contraption in your skin colour with red outlines tucked into black jeans, and a black leather jacket thrown over. The corset gave the impression that your torso was bare with blazing streaks across your body and he visibly twitched. Why did you have to wear that? The guilt was eating away at him already.
“What are you guys staring at?” Minho and Changbin had just joined the fray.
“Chan-hyung’s girl!”
Minho moved closer, “The girl from last night? She’s hot.”
Changbin eagerly nodded along and Chan could feel his blood pressure rising.
“Guys, she is not my girl. Simply Lily’s friend who needed help.”
“Hey Seungmin! Check out Chan-hyung’s hot girlfriend who happens to be Lily’s friend!”
“Jesus Christ, Jeongin!”
Chan had had enough. He couldn’t have this distracting them right now. They were about to go onstage in a city near his home and they needed to focus. He decided it would be best for everyone if he ignored you so, squaring his shoulders, he said something that he thought would end the discussion.
“She’s like a sister to me.”
“So you mean she’s available? OW, WHAT THE FU-”
You were right. You had embarrassed yourself last night. There were a number of factors that led up to this conclusion. Firstly, he hadn’t texted you since the incident. You chalked it up to his schedule but you were slightly hurt by the notion that he didn’t want to check up on you. Despite your mortification, you had dressed up really nicely - you weren’t sure why as you would not let it get to you. He was just busy. But now, as he walked down the stage, right past you, he kept his eyes carefully trained away from you. You knew he was aware of you, it was obvious by the way his jaw was clenched. You sighed inwardly - this was awful. Would you get the chance to apologise or would he shut you out completely? At this thought, your throat closed up but you were getting ahead of yourself. One step at a time.
The concert was incredible. You had never had so much fun in your life despite feeling the underlying stress of the situation. The boys were so talented and gorgeous. You admired Chan and even though you knew you shouldn’t, the events of the previous night flitted through your mind. When he hugged Minho tightly from behind, you felt his arms around you too - soothing you to sleep. When he brushed the hair from Felix’s eyes, you felt his featherlight touch as he dried your tears. When he lifted his shirt you were reminded of the smooth, hard muscles rippling under your fingertips as he brought you to your demise; and when he turned around, you remembered the firmness of that ass, clenching in your grip. Fuck - this was not happening. You were not growing feelings for him, were you? He had simply helped you out platonically and the way he was ignoring you proved that. But you found yourself questioning everything when he pulled his tight pants lower surreptitiously, showing his happy trail and briefs. You saw him look at other girls and your heart dropped - his dimple was on full display for everyone but you… You were shaken from your maudlin thoughts, however, when the other members drew your attention. They seemed to have taken quite a shine to you, completing hearts and throwing big smiles your way. It didn’t seem like a coincidence by the way that Chan visibly tensed up and pulled Hyunjin away from your side of the stage or smacked Changbin over the head when he sat down and stared at you during a speech. How much did they know? They were quite obviously getting a rise out of him and you were kind of enjoying it immensely. You were about to give up hope completely until something finally happened. It was during Red Lights. Chan was directly in front of you when he was doing his floor work and when he lifted himself up somewhat, his eyes locked with yours. You felt the air escape your lungs. The way his revealing jacket gleamed in the red spotlight, making his firm chest glow; the way the sweat trailed down his neck; the way his pretty pink mouth parted. All that made you dizzy but what had you wet was his stare. His stare. The way his dark eyes drove into you, the way his brows furrowed in consternation. You couldn’t decipher what he was feeling but you needed him. You hoped he craved you too. You were royally screwed.
The members were backstage while the audience was watching a video, getting ready for the final number. Minho saw Chan nervously darting his eyes to the wall, as if he had suddenly received the gift of X-ray vision. Chuckling lightly, he rested his chin on his shoulder and proceeded to play the part of the devil.
“How you doing?”
“Fine.”
“She’s alone here, right?”
“Yeah. Wait, I mean, I think so?”
“She staying at the hotel again?”
“How did you know where she stayed?” Chan turned to him in confusion. Minho merely smirked which annoyed him further and he turned back around, moving to catch a glimpse of you. His second in command zeroed in again.
“So? She coming with us?”
“No.” Chan grit his teeth, wanting nothing more to do with the situation. Nothing more to do with you.
“But… how will she get home? You can’t expect her to wait outside, in the cold, in the dark, alone, for a random taxi?”
Chan faltered at that. What kind of person would he be if he left you alone without checking up on you? He thought back to how small, vulnerable, scared you looked sitting on that couch and his heart clenched, the anger stirred. He still had your room since he didn’t know how much time you needed to rest so what was stopping him? He didn’t want to think about the answer to that question.
“Fine.” We probably have something to discuss anyway.
You were singing along with the final number when you heard a voice in your ear, shocking the bejeezus out of you. You turned around to find the young, attractive usher from earlier hovering - he beckoned you closer and told you to meet him by the side door as soon as the audience started filing out. You tentatively agreed, knowing what this meant and wondering what the fuck you were going to say when you were face to face with the man you simultaneously wanted to kick and kiss. As you turned back to the stage you caught him quickly turning his gaze away from the two of you - did you perhaps affect him in the same way? No, surely not. He was probably just annoyed at his protective instincts - that’s what landed you in this mess in the first place.
You realised you had zoned out because when you came to, most were cheering and moving around to leave. This was your cue. You moved to the door behind you and loitered a bit until the staff member came to get you. His name was James and he really was very nice but you couldn’t reciprocate his flirting - not when you were about to meet him. He led you through the corridor all the way to the back of the building and knocked on the door of the green room. You felt a warm sensation on your lower back and noticed his hand resting there - before you could ask him to remove it the door opened, revealing a wet-haired Changbin in fresh clothes. He opened the door with a wide smile and stepped back to let you in. You looked beyond him and saw Chan staring daggers at the man behind you who dropped his hand reluctantly. You thanked him gently and walked in.
You knew this was a mistake the moment you did because Chan went back to ignoring you, making you feel very out of place. The room was big, couches settled against the walls and make-up stations set up in the middle but, because of the absolute rejection, you felt the walls squeeze you in from all sides. Your heart stuttered and you started to instinctively move back. This was worse than you thought. How would you two ever be able to go back to normal? You wanted to be alone to mourn your childhood but, just as you were about to make your excuses and leave, a hand guided you to the couch where you were gently pushed down. The man followed you swiftly and sat by your side - it was almost invasive. You turned your head and found yourself staring at the most beautiful pair of lips. Hyunjin. His voice was like molten silk, sliding over your nerves, settling you.
“So what’s your name?”
“Y/n.”
“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”
You heard a scoff from somewhere and straightened up, refusing to appear vulnerable. Minho jumped into your line of sight and towered over you, gripping the couch.
“So. You’re the girl Chan valiantly rescued last night.” He smirked evilly, shooting a look at him who had his back to you, shoulders tensed. He still hadn’t acknowledged you. Minho, undeterred, was on a roll.
“How long have you known each other? Because he was frantic when he got the message from you. You two must be awfully close. Isn’t that right, Chan? I think he’d practically do anything for you.”
You schooled your breathing and answered without thinking, using his childhood nickname, “Well Channie and I -”
“Of course, I would. She’s basically my little sister.”
He didn’t look at you as he cut you off and you fought to swallow down the bile comprised of hurt, shame, anger. You knew he was in the right since you forced him into what had happened but you couldn’t help it. You needed to be wanted, you needed to be seen as a woman so you decided to fight fire with fire and focus on the members instead. You let a mask slide across your features.
Leaning back, you smiled demurely up at Minho, saying nothing in return. You took in the other boys - they were all so striking, so unique. Jeongin was staring at you shyly, Seungmin was maintaining nonchalant eye contact and Jisung was adjusting his belt. Good god. Felix had made himself comfy on the other side of you and thrown his arm around your shoulders, murmuring into your ear with his deep voice.
“If I may be so bold, I love your outfit. The red really pops against your smooth skin.” At this point, your face had started to match said colour. What were they playing at? You couldn’t say you weren’t relishing in it, however, as your inner brat was trying to rear its ugly head.
You crossed your legs and pushed your chest out slightly, noticing that Chan had now turned around and was staring balefully at the others. You couldn’t help but stare at him, his annoyance rolling off him in waves. The way the black tank hugged his torso as he crossed his arms really had you pulsing.
“Thanks, I am feeling a tad warm right now though so I might take off this jacket - could someone help me?”
Changbin appeared out of nowhere, pulling you upright and helping you out of it. You practically purred out a thanks and pretended not to notice how Chan’s scowl had deepened dramatically. The boys raked their eyes unabashedly over your body and when you turned you heard an appreciative gasp. You felt someone’s fingers trail over your shoulder and realised what they had seen.
“Your tattoo... So fragile, so delicate, so dark.” You realised it was Hyunjin and shivered when he brushed your hair to the side, seeing that it flowed up the back of your neck. It wasn’t a big tattoo by any means but you looked over your shoulder and caught Chan staring at it, eyes wide. You felt a quiet sense of satisfaction which was masking your lingering hurt so, clinging onto it, you gave Hyunjin a cheeky smile and reached out to touch his new piercing, eyes locked on his. His hair was shorter, shimmering maroon and his shirt was showcasing his collarbones. He was beautiful. He seemed just as entranced by you so he leaned in.
“Are you single then?”
“All right, Jesus! Stop acting like horny teenagers - she’s here because we’re helping her, what use is that when you’re harassing her? Y/n, put your damn jacket on - I can see the goosebumps from here.”
Chan started aggressively gathering his things, muttering under his breath. Hyunjin’s eyes gleamed at you and it all fell into place. They were all baiting him…and it had worked. As everyone got their bags, you moved to slip past them to the door.
“And where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
Chan was grimacing at you, arms crossed.
“You guys are getting ready to leave? Didn’t want to be in the way. Have a safe flight and well done for the great concert.” He was being an absolute prick and you realised that a written message three years from now would be sufficient. But as you started to open the door, a strong hand kept it closed, an arm effectively caging you in. You turned your head slightly and was met by his hard stare. Fuck me. You quickly looked behind you to see all the boys simultaneously turn and stare at a particularly ugly painting.
“I like the…brush strokes.”
“Yes, the mustard yellow is quite…prominent.”
Chan lowered his voice, “You’re here because the hotel room is still available and we don’t want you going home alone. Please… just go there.”
You grit your teeth and tried to tug at the door but his hand wrapped securely around yours and held you still. He leaned in, face unreadable, “What’s going on with you? I’m getting worried.” Your heart clenched painfully and you schooled your expression.
“Oh, don’t worry about me big bro - I’ll be fine.” He flinched and you cast your eyes down, feeling slightly guilty. You sighed, adding, “But I’ll take you up on your offer as I’m too fucking tired to find an uber in this madness.”
Everyone was quick to gather their things and when it came time to leave, you received your instructions.
“We will head out first, draw the crowd in and so forth. Once we’re on the road, you’ll follow us in a company car. You have your room key card?”
You nodded mutely and stared at the ground - so he wasn’t going to talk to you later. The disappointment and relief twirled into a glutinous mess and you felt sick. Someone approached you with a black cap and face mask, and you looked up to see Hyunjin in front of you. He gave you a gentle smile and silently asked if he could apply them. You nodded again and he slowly slid your mask into place, fingers trailing across your cheekbones. A hiss came out of nowhere and suddenly a new person had taken over. From behind you, Chan ran his fingers through your hair - you had seen him approach you but even if you hadn’t, you would recognise those fingers anywhere. The way they raked across your scalp had you seeing stars, the sensation threw you back to the bed where this had all started. You thought you might be imagining it but you could feel his heart race through his shirt and you shivered. After he had balled your hair up, under the cap, you were ready. He stepped back and avoided your gaze. You noticed Jisung clutching his chest, expression cooing and Jeongin blushing in the back. You rolled your eyes and watched the members move towards the van. Just as you started contemplating making a run for it, a harsh voice whispered in your ear.
“Don’t you dare think about it. Stop being a brat and go to the hotel.”
“Come on, Channie! The car is waiting!” Minho cackled and Chan jogged on, scowling the whole way.
Once in the car, Chan’s mind raced. He felt like absolute scum. He had hurt you. He had hurt you the night before and it was evident in the way you interacted with him. He knew he was being standoffish but he was scared to look you in the eyes because everytime he did he was reminded of the tears glistening there as you begged him to fuck you. He didn’t even know he had a crying kink until you outright sobbed, clutched onto his shirt and stared beseechingly into his eyes. God, he had never been so hard in his life. He had let himself get swept up and now he was paying the price. He had acted like a frat boy and taken advantage of you in your vulnerable state. You. You, who knew who he really was, who had grown up with him - he was supposed to protect you, you fucking trusted him. He’d let one of the most important people to him down and he couldn’t bear to face you. He’d seen the hurt etched across your features while he was onstage and, like the coward he was, he ignored it. Like the coward he was, he had slipped out of your bed and fled. Like the coward he was, he didn’t message you, no matter how much he wanted to. And like a pervert…he had gotten himself off in the shower as soon as he could. How could he not when he noticed the patch of arousal you had left on his boxers? You probably hated him and he couldn’t face it. He instinctively gripped his seat as he remembered how you looked in the changing room. His heart had stuttered seeing you up close, your hair tousled, your eyes shining as you looked at the other members. He thought about that tattoo, when had you gotten that? It might quite possibly have been the sexiest thing he had ever seen. It reminded him of how you’d grown up without him, how you had bloomed into this gorgeous creature, how you were different yet not. He wanted to trace his fingers over it or better yet, his tongue but Hyunjin had beaten him to it and Chan had to hold himself back from strangling him. He didn’t know how you felt about him, he wasn’t supposed to want you but he couldn’t help it. When did he start liking you in this way? Did you like Hyunjin? The jealousy had flooded him when you touched his piercing with a smile. You had smiled at him like that when you were in his arms. Right before you cried and begged him to fuck you. Fuck. He was an absolute fucking mess.
He had to apologise to you, he had to make this right.
When you opened the door to your room, you froze. There, sitting in the same armchair as the night before, was Chan. He was staring hard at the carpet, saying nothing. After a while you slowly closed the door and shifted from one foot to the other, not sure what to do next - you didn’t particularly want to sit on that bed in front of him.
“Are you just going to stand there?”
His face was impassive as he looked at you, it made your heart hammer in your chest. He was angry at you - you wanted to melt into the carpet but knew it was better this way. You wanted him to just get it over with - yell at you and then leave. You didn’t deserve anything less. So, mustering up your courage, you made your way to the bed and perched on the side of the mattress closest to him. His eyes were dark and you forced yourself to maintain eye contact - he was really angry. Your lip trembled as you realised there was no going back for the two of you. This was the end of everything.
“Y/n. I need to say something to you - fuck.”
He hissed the last word as he noticed your eyes glinting. Scrambling out of the chair, he moved to the massive windows, back to you.
“Please stop crying,” he gritted out.
Embarrassed at how pathetic you must look to him, you hastily wiped your cheeks and stood up, moving towards him. When you placed a hand on his arm (you had to apologise to his face) he jerked away as though electrocuted, muttering, “I can’t do this.”
You turned away in defeat and made your way to the shower, thinking you would make it easier for him to leave. You found his pyjamas on the sink and choked back a sob, why was this so hard?
After scrubbing your skin for fifteen minutes, you ventured out. You wanted to curl up into a ball and berate yourself further for jumping the man who’d always been there for you in one way or another but you came face to face with Chan again. He hadn’t left, he was sprawled in the chair again. Why won’t he just leave? I would much rather send him a fruit basket than do this. You steeled your shoulders, opened your mouth, but before you could say something he cut in.
“I’m sorry.”
What?
He repeated it and looked you dead in the eye. It confused you so much that you stood there, gaping like a fish for a good few seconds. When you were finally able to get words out, your voice sounded shrill.
“Chan… what are you apologising for? I’m the one who should be doing that.”
His brow furrowed and he tilted his head questioningly.
You stepped forward slowly, it was now or never.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for last night - I forced myself on you. I begged you to sleep with me and you gave in. I assaulted you. I’m so fucking sorry!”
Now it was his turn to gape - he felt even worse than before.
“Is that the impression I gave you? That I didn’t want it?”
“You were hardly touching me, wouldn’t take my shirt off and you didn’t come!”
“That’s because I was forcing myself to stay calm and not lose control! You have no idea how incredible you looked under me, how fucking much I wanted to ruin you. I am so sorry. Even though I tried to restrain myself somewhat, I violated your trust in me. You were coming down from cocaine for god’s sake and I took advantage of you. I don’t even deserve to be alone with you right now.”
“No.”
You started to panic, hands shaking and breaths shallow. You couldn’t believe he was trying to do this again. To protect you and make you feel better about you assaulting him. Typical Chan. You’d had enough. Angry tears pooling in your eyes, you strode forward until you were standing right in front of him.
“You don’t get to do this. Not again! I fucking attacked you and now you’re trying to make me feel better? Chan, stop hiding your feelings - I know you’re resenting me right now and I need you to be honest. You’ve been ignoring me all evening, acting aggressive when I approach you. Saying you ‘can’t do this’ a moment ago. Stop being so nice!”
He had stood up by this point, towering over you.
“Being nice? I’m being nice? Do you want to know what I actually meant when I said I can’t do this?” There was no trace of empathy on his face and it made you nervous. Were you wrong? He continued on, moving even closer.
“You had just started crying and it turned me on. It fucking turned me on. Apparently I’m into that. If I didn’t shake you off, I would have taken you against the window for everyone to see. I’m disgusting.”
Your breath caught in your throat. God, you wanted him. He was about to move away in shame when you caught his wrist. He studied you carefully and noticed your dilated pupils, mouth parted and cheeks flushed. You loved his confession and it twisted something in his chest. He wrapped a hand around your hair and lifted your face up, admiring the silvery sheen of tears glistening on your cheeks. He groaned and with his free hand, wiped them away with his thumb. When he slid it into his mouth and sucked at the salty residue, you felt your guilt wash away. He wasn’t joking. And you were going to lose it.
Gripping the back of your neck, he bent down to lightly brush his lips against yours but you both stopped before sealing the deal. His eyes danced.
“Tell me to stop.”
“No.”
You mirrored his words, “Tell me to stop.”
His reply came fast and breathless.
“Never.”
The kiss was immediate, it was forceful with teeth clashing and lip biting.
He pushed you onto the bed and, this time, ripped your shirt off.
“As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, I just need to fucking check something.” He turned you onto your front and roughly brushed your hair out the way, stilling for a moment as he took in the sight. Your painted shoulder was glorious.
“When did you even get this?”
“Back in uni, six shots of tequila helped me gain the confidence to share my design with an artist.”
“So you’re saying, I leave you for a couple of years and you go wild? Shit, I’ll have to keep my eye on you in case you come back with a nose ring.” You felt his arousal through his shorts and smirked to yourself.
He bent his head down and finally got to slide his tongue slowly over the clean lines, causing you to shudder and arch your back. He licked up your shoulder, to your neck where he bit down. Hard. It had you bucking in his grasp and he sternly pushed your hips down.
“Oh baby - settle down unless you don’t want to come. At all.”
Your eyes rolled back into your head and you quietened down, panting in anticipation.
“Good girl.”
Fuck. When did he get so authoritative? He gripped your hair and bruised your mouth with his, licking into you. The pace was rough and you suddenly became aware of how gentle he had been with you when you needed him the previous night. He had gone at your pace, fluttered his fingers over you and made sure not to make you uncomfortable. You smiled into the kiss as you truly realised that he wasn’t reluctant, he was respectful - he was treasuring you. You were both idiots. He quirked a brow, feeling your smile and pulled away.
“What’s on your mind, baby girl?”
“Channie, you could never hurt me - not even if you tried.”
He understood your meaning, giggling shyly (how?), but decided to take your words literally.
“You sure about that?”
He bit the shell of your ear sharply and your eyes darkened in response. Now was not the time for sentimentalities. Ripping his shirt off, he flipped you over and nestled between your legs - his eyes trailed down and his lips quirked.
“You didn’t learn the last time?”
“I have a thing against wearing dirty undies after a shower.”
“Who are you?” His face tightened in thought and you needed to bring him back.
You cupped his face, “Chan, I need you to understand that I’m not the girl from your memories anymore. I’ve grown up - which you can clearly see - so please, don’t be gentle and don’t regret this. I want you and I realise I’ve kind of always wanted you - you were just either too thick to see it or you didn’t want to. I’ve grown up, I’ve dated and I still want you. Tell me you want this and then stop worrying about hurting me, if you’ll have me - I’m all yours. At least for tonight.” You swallowed thickly with nerves and waited for his response - would he finally see a beautiful, worldly woman (like the ones he must hang out with) or would he not be able to get past his impression of you, his little sister’s friend. You hoped it was the first. He took a few moments and you thought you might just cry which you did not want to happen as it would, apparently, just persuade him to fuck you.
He sucked in his bottom lip with a sigh and stared up at you from below his lashes. His warm brown eyes narrowed in something akin to concern. He opened his mouth and then thought better of it, leaning down to place a warm kiss against your forehead. You shuddered and waited, heart sinking.
“Y/n. I can’t promise that I’ll be able to separate you from the girl I knew when I was little. In fact, I don’t want to.” Your shoulders tensed and you waited for the inevitable rejection. What an unfortunate position to be doing this in.
“When I saw you on that couch yesterday, scared and so alone, an image of you crying in the rain hit me. I don’t know if you remember but you were sixteen - your parents had had a fight and gone to bed, forgetting to unlock the front door for you. I pulled you to your feet and cuddled you on Lily’s bed while we waited for her to get home. Anyways, you looked exactly the same, lost and feeling abandoned. I wanted to gather you in my arms again, I needed to protect you again. You mean so much to me and I wouldn’t want you to be anyone else. Just be Y/n, the annoying neighbour who I had a massive crush on before I left. Why do you think I kept in touch all these years? I needed some semblance of normalcy, I needed the comfort of home. I needed you. And I still do. So, stay with me as you. Yourself. Be mine.”
You let out a relieved laugh and he cradled your face again, whispering,“But you gotta stop doing this, darling, as you’ll send me to an early grave and you wouldn’t want to disappoint my fans now, would you?”
He was kissing a stray tear away and you decided you would indeed try your best to shed a few everyday if it meant getting this treatment.
Suddenly, you felt his breathing grow ragged as he looked you over.
“Now call me Channie again and let me have you.”
You bit back a whimper as he lowered his mouth to your neck and then, realising you were stark naked under him, you tugged at his waistband. He broke away for a second to rip both layers off and then captured your lips with his. It was a slow, deep kiss this time - as though you were savouring this pivotal moment together. His hands softly entwined in your hair again and yours slid leisurely over his back, running your nails over the tight planes of flesh. He hissed and you felt woozy, arousal dripping from your core. He slid his cock through your folds gently and held eye contact - it was almost too intense for you so you turned your face away, only for him to grip your chin and bring you back.
“Look at me. Please.”
You blinked and nodded dumbly, watching as he slid his fingers down to your begging hole. You were sopping, ready, and he knew this but a cheeky smile flashed across his features and you narrowed your eyes at him as he slowly made his way down your body. He trailed his tongue across your collarbones, flicked your nipples, grazed his teeth along your ribs and when he reached your pelvis he bit down on your hip. All while maintaining eye contact. You yelped and jerked your hips up from the bed but he easily draped a muscular arm across your torso, glaring at you.
“What did I say about moving?”
“Sorry…” you murmured, head in the clouds. You felt him chuckle, breath ghosting over your pussy. He hummed quietly and kissed your folds. It felt so good that you knew you’d be begging for more later. When his tongue swept over your slit you keened loudly, forcing yourself to stay still. He sucked your bud in between his plush lips and you felt your waterline pleading to release. No, this is too soon! You tried to keep your impending orgasm at bay but it was as though he knew all the right spots on you so as soon as his tongue slid inside you and lapped at your walls you lost it, thighs locking around his head and mouth open in a silent scream.
You felt him nip at your thigh and position himself over you, waiting for you to return to him. You lazily smiled at him, combing a hand through his messy locks and he kissed you all over your face, making you push at him.
“Tell me to stop before I make you scream.”
You widened your eyes as his confidence swept back at full force and choked out, “No.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He gripped your hip with one hand and sheathed himself in you, apparently deciding he couldn’t hold back anymore. And scream, you did.
“Fuck, Channie!”
He said nothing, starting off at a punishing pace and you felt the breath leave your lungs. You held onto his biceps, honestly trying not to pass out. You realised he adored edging you because the heat in your belly would build up at the abuse you endured by his thick cock slamming into your walls but, at the last minute, he would feel you clenching and change the pace. It was frustrating the hell out of you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He had monumentally slowed down his pace when he started talking.
“How are you still so tight, baby girl? I’m so deep inside you and your wet cunt is still trying to suck me in. Fuck. Is this good for you? Do you like it when I take you like this?”
You let out an embarrassing noise, too fucked out to speak. At this, he slowed down even more.
“What was that? Speak to me - what do you want?” His face hovered over yours, smirking devilishly at you. God, you hated this man. You tried your best to glare at him and pulled your lips firmly shut, two could play at this game. He stopped completely and gripped your face hard, pushing his thumb into your mouth - you felt your eyes roll back as you instinctively clenched around him.
“Stop being a fucking brat, Y/n, and tell me what you want. Beg for it or I’ll make you cry.” He clearly was not going to move and your pussy ached so much as you had been going for quite a while. You realised that if you were going to sleep with him again, you would need to learn to hold your own but it wouldn’t be tonight. He heard a sound around his thumb and pulled it out.
“Hmm? What was that, sweetheart?”
“Cum. I need to cum. Now.” Your voice broke around the last word and he sucked in a breath, eyes darkened to black. He rose up on his knees and folded your legs up against his chest. You had thought it would be impossible but he was even deeper than before.
“If I see even one more tear, I’m going to stop.”
He started up his brutal pace, watching your face contort in the most delightful way. Your eyes took him in as much as you could - the furrow between his brow, his mouth hanging open, sweat trickling down his neck and shoulders. The way his arms bunched around your legs and the way he was breathing was coaxing you to the edge - when he started to feel you contract he licked his thumb and swiftly brought it down onto your clit. It sent you hurtling to your destruction, taking him with you.
Later, whilst facing each other on the bed, arms and legs tangled, you searched his eyes. The sparkle was there, no hint of regret in sight. You felt a surge of relief until you heard his next words.
“The sun’s not out yet and we are far from finished.”
Fuck.
Your body was sore. Really sore. It felt as though he had split you in two, you shuddered at all the positions you had tried (successfully). But you had been over-ambitious and now you were paying the price. Opening a weary eye, you looked around. It was morning, the sun was gently washing in from behind the light curtains…and there was nothing blocking it. Chan wasn’t there, Chan was gone. You struggled to sit up but managed to slouch against the headboard. Was something wrong? Had you fucked up again? You got nervous - when he said “be mine” did he mean “just for tonight?”. You racked your brain, trying to remember what time his flight was but the sound of your discarded phone ringing had you scrambling to reach for it. When you looked at the caller ID, the air returned to you.
“Channie?”
A warm chuckle met you and you sighed in happiness - until you realised he had destroyed you physically and ran. Was he already at the airport?
“Where are you?”
“I’m at a cafe, getting us some breakfast. In fact, I’m currently fighting over a Pain au Chocolat since I remember you liking those.”
“ …oh.”
“Baby, did you think I’d left you again?” You imagined him softly smiling into the phone and you mirrored his action as you heard his next words.
synopsis: eve found a snake in her garden, and then fell in love with the fruit it offered.
tags: god au, past lives, soul bonds, angst, smut
warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, oral (fem. receiving), corruption kink if u squint, character death
word count: 18.3k
m.list
a/n: if you've read this before, it's because i deleted my old account and then decided to come back. as a disclaimer, religion is pretty broad in this fic. "god" in this fic is not god from the christian/catholic religion. also !! thank u @yeonjunszn for betaing this last year, love u pookie!! <33 [photo creds]. MINORS DNI
❝all the fear and the fire of the end of the world, happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl.❞
When God created the universe, he first created light. He separated the light from darkness and called them “Day” and “Night”. Then He made the sky, separating the water with a dome to keep it in two separate places. Then he made the sun and the stars, weaving his essence to light up his beautiful creation to help guide those who will soon live on it. Then He created animals, for both the sky and the water. He blessed them and told them to live in the sea and the sky, to fill the ocean and the earth with bustling cycles of life.
On the last day, he created humans. He created man and woman, and told them to have children so they may produce their own descendants to walk over earth and bring everything into their control. The first two humans he created were Adam and Eve.
He provided them with an abundance of fruits and grains for them to eat in a beautiful garden he called Eden.
In the garden of Eden, they were to fall in love and create many children. Adam was the first one to fall in love with Eve, and she pliantly went along with it.
But, something in Eve felt… empty. Like Adam was not the one she was to be with. Adam was not the one she was to share this beautiful, vast, garden with. But, she wasn’t sure who she was to share this with. Eve knew she couldn’t delve much more into the unsettling pit in her stomach at the thought of her fate already sealed by Adam’s side, as it was not smart to defy God.
“God knows best,” she would tell herself as she lay with Adam in the garden of Eden.
________________
I’m dying.
If the blood flowing around him wasn’t enough of a tell, or the way his sight blurs in and out. The heavy rain pelting against his dying body is a desperate, yet pathetic, attempt of the universe trying to save him and wash the red sticky liquid away. His breathing is shallow, hitched. He feels the urge to cry, to mourn the life he’s no longer going to be able to have. He was so close to reaching his goals too, and now they’re all washed up and ruined, like trash washing back up on the shores of beaches he visits. Or, in just a short while it’ll be visited.
“I’m sorry, m—” Chan chokes. “Mom. I did everything I could.”
Just as he is about to slip into eternal sleep, a bright light opens up in the sky. It’s blinding, and warm?
Why is it so warm? Is this heaven?
Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on his body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in the road. The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. His entire body relaxes, and he feels himself being pushed further into his body, into his own mind.
Is this really what dying feels like?
—
Chan wakes up in a hospital room.
His body is aching, and his head is filled with an uncomfortable pressure. Breathing hurts, and he’s sure his ribs are broken. The machine that’s keeping track of his vitals beeps rhythmically, and he lets out a, albeit pained, sigh of relief at it.
He looks up at the ceiling, like he was looking up towards the heavens and thanking whatever God was gracious enough to let him keep living.
“Ah! You’re awake!” A voice says, cheerily. A woman in her late thirties is standing in the doorway. Her slick black hair is pulled into a low ponytail, a few strands falling into her face from being up for what Chan presumes to be hours. “I’m your nurse, Eunkyung. I’ll go grab the doctor.” Chan barely has the chance to respond before the nurse leaves, the sound of her shoes squeaking steadily quieting as she hurries down the hallway.
The doctor follows her into the room a few minutes later, inspecting his eyes and the nasty bruising around his ribcage. “Do you remember your name?”
“Bang Chan,” he answers. “Do you know how I got here?”
“You walked yourself here, do you not remember?” The doctor asks, bewilderment encasing his wrinkled face. “You were a sight to see. I don’t know what kind of God has your back but, you should have died last night. It’s quite literally a miracle.”
Chan’s head pounds at the doctor’s words, and he flinches. He pinches the bridge of his nose as an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.
“We’ll keep you here for another day or two to see how you’re feeling. Do you have any family we can call?”
“Oh, uh,” Chan looks down at his scraped hands, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “No, I don’t. My emergency contact should be Seo Changbin, though.”
Changbin does make it up to the hospital that same night, with Han Jisung bounding in right behind him. Changbin and Jisung aren’t one to shy away from theatrics, so when they finally enter the room, the younger of the two is loudly shouting in distress as he practically launches himself onto the bed to lay with Chan.
“Oh, my precious hyung! I can’t believe you almost died!” He wails out, wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders and obnoxiously crying out, the sound of his faux wails echoing into the room and piercing Chan’s eardrums and racking his brain even more.
“Ah, Sung. I love you, but please don’t yell. My head feels like it’s splitting.” He whines out, pinching the bridge of his nose once again.
“Yeah, the doctor said you have a pretty nasty concussion,” Changbin says. Chan nods, trying his best to move his shoulders to shake the younger boy off, but to no avail. Han Jisung is glued to his side, no matter how much pain it’s bringing to his ribs, but he eventually decides to give up and relaxes in the younger’s hold. Before he can fully relax, though, boney knuckles are making contact with his bicep, which then makes him groan and lurch up, shooting more pain into his torso. He opens his eyes to see that the worry is wiped clean off Changbin’s features, and instead replaced with a feign look of anger. “You idiot! How could you get yourself hit by a car!” Chan flinches at the rising level in the man’s voice.
“Did we forget that I said my head hurts?” Chan whines. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was crossing the street and then the next thing I know I’m laying in the middle of the road.”
“The doctor said you walked here,” Jisung says. “How did you even manage to do that, hyung?”
“Funny thing is, I don’t even remember doing it.”
—
Chan’s discharged after three days, and given a stern order from Ms. Eunkyung to “take it easy” until his head fully clears. He chuckles to himself, because he knows he’s not exactly going to follow that order.
Not if he wants food on the table.
Speaking of food; his fridge is empty. Save for a stick of butter, a gallon of milk Chan is more than a hundred percent sure is expired, and a singular tomato staring at him pitifully. Even the tomato looks like it’s on its last leg, too. He cringes.
Suddenly, his head starts pounding again. He groans, shutting the fridge door and stumbling to his couch where he throws himself down on it. He lets out a pained whine as the pressure in his head builds, and he’s almost convinced his head is going to explode.
“Am I dying for real this time?” Chan whispers to himself. The pressure feels almost familiar, like how it did when he was dying because soon it’s encasing his entire body again and his eyes slip closed.
—
When Chan awakes again, he feels so far away, like he’s not fully in his body.
He must have taken a harder hit to the head than he thought. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, let alone when he moved to his bed. He thinks maybe he should call Minho over to watch him in case he passes out like that again. Maybe he really is dying this time.
Fuck. This isn’t entirely how he wants to go out. Alone, in his shitty apartment with no one around, barely any food in the fridge and nothing to his name that can be tied to any sort of legacy.
Though, he isn’t surprised he’s dying this way. It’s just his luck.
“Can you stop thinking so loud?”
What the fuck.
That was his voice. But he’s sure he wasn’t talking.
“Oh you mortals and your need to constantly think, think, think!” He feels his palm hit against his temple.
What..
“You’re not dead, kid. Well, not until I leave this vessel,” He says… to himself. He sighs. “I’m a god. Gotta say, you decided to go and get yourself killed at just the perfect time too. I didn’t even have to find you.”
What?!
“Don’t yell! You echo in my head and it’s giving me a headache!” The god scoffs, rubbing at his temples. “I’ll explain it to you in a second I just…” just then, Chan’s stomach growls and the god groans. “I’m fucking starving. When’s the last time you ate? You mortals love treating your bodies like shit.”
I ate… Wait, what time is it?
“It’s the next morning,” the god responds.
The next morning?!
“Yes! Gods, stop yelling!” Cato shrieks, gently knocking his fists on the top of his head in an attempt to quiet the human in their shared consciousness. “You were out for quite a while. I was convinced I completely shoved you out of your body. Just my luck I got someone who holds on, though. Tsk.” Chan watches as the god moves his body to sit up in his bed, swinging his legs over to firmly plant them on the ground. He groans, his body is sore and his joints are aching. Chan groans too, still able to feel everything. Just a little more dulled, but he still feels that incessant knot in his neck he’s never been able to get rid of. “You really let this thing get this rickety? How old are you?”
Twenty five.
“So young,” the god says, an almost mournful tone in his voice as he stretches his (their?) arms above his head. He walks out of the tiny bedroom and into the main apartment. “Cute place,” he chuckles. Chan doesn’t respond, as he watches the god look around the small apartment and take in everything. The god’s curious gaze lands on his stack of records, old vinyls he’s collected since he was about fourteen. “Nice collection.”
Thanks. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on now?
“After I feed myself,” the god quips. “So impatient.” He rolls his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen. Chan doesn’t miss the grimace that paints across his face as the god stares at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink.
Don’t roll my eyes at me.
“I’m piloting this plane right now, so they’re my eyes.” The god snaps.
Can you at least tell me your name?
“Cato,” the god responds as he opens the fridge. Cato lets out an indignant sound at the sight. The same stick of butter, expired milk, and pathetic tomato are glaring back at them once again. “You have no food, you useless man! How are we supposed to eat!”
I haven’t had the time to go grocery shopping.
“How have you not died earlier?” Cato asks, sarcastically.
You’re so not funny.
“It’s still a sensitive topic, I see,” Cato quirks his eyebrows. “Where can we get food?”
There’s a convenience store down the street I usually go to when I’m in between groceries.
“Is this your definition of in between groceries?”
Shut up. I’m a busy guy.
Cato doesn’t respond as he goes and gets himself dressed. He pauses putting on the tee shirt he chose to look in the mirror the human has hanging on his wall. He’s bruised heavily on his torso and his face is scraped up. He and the god both grimace at the damage done to his body. “How did you even manage to do this?”
It’s not like I was playing chicken with the car. It just happened.
“You got hit? And they didn’t take you to the hospital?” Cato presses down on the bruise along his ribcage, which sends a sharp pain to crawl up his spine. Chan whimpers quietly in his head at the touch. Cato whimpers out loud. “That’s why I had to walk us there myself.”
That’s usually what entails in a hit and run. Stop touching it! That hurts. Wait – you were the one that took me to the hospital?
“Yeah. I was in a lot of pain… You can feel that?” Cato asks, eyebrow raised as he looks in the mirror. He presses on it again. Chan lets out a whine.
Yes. It hurts. A lot. My ribs are broken. I don’t know if you remember, but that’s what the doctor said. At the hospital. That you walked me to.
“You lost a lot of blood last night,” Cato says. “I don’t know how I managed to heal your cracked skull but not the bruises and your ribs. But also, this isn’t just your body you stupid mortal. It’s mine, too.” Chan sighs, annoyed.
Maybe they weren’t life threatening?
“No, it’s not that,” Cato murmurs. He places a finger on his chin, eyebrows scrunched as he racks his brain (or, his borrowed brain) for an answer. His stomach growls again. “Oh, man. I can barely think. Food first, everything else later. Oh, and try not to talk to me. I don’t wanna look like a weirdo talking to myself on the street.”
You could just not respond out loud.
Go fuck yourself.
Walking to the convenience store was quick. The cold winds nip at Cato’s nose, painting it a delicate shade of red by the time he enters the store. The heat from inside the building wraps him in a hug, thawing his frozen nose and hands as he steps in almost instantly. The store itself is small, maybe four aisles at best with a line of freezers and fridges lining the back wall. There’s a table with a microwave and two two-seater tables next to it.
Cute.
The old lady that owns it gives me a discount because I help her stock sometimes.
That’s called a job.
I don’t work here.
But you do — whatever I’m not arguing with a stupid mortal.
Didn’t know God can get hangry.
I’m not “God”, I’m a God. Did you not hear me when I made that exact distinction when you woke up earlier?
I see I’ve hit a nerve.
It’s like if I called you an animal when you’re a human. It’s rude.
To whom?
To me! And to the big man himself, but that’s not who we’re concerned about right now.
Sorry, God.
Are you not going to apologize to me?
No.
“Fucking mortals.” Cato whispers under his breath as he walks the aisles.
I heard that.
You were meant to!
“Chan?” a soft, pretty voice speaks out from next to him. Cato whips his head to find a girl. She has a look of uncertainty on her face, but once she realizes it actually is who she thought, a bright smile paints across her angelic face. “Hey! Missed you in class yesterday.”
Cato stands there, shell shocked. His mouth drops open and he’s standing there, gawking at her for a full ten seconds. For some reason, after seeing this girl, a hole feels as if it’s torn open in his chest, where his heart should be. It’s painful. Raw, carnal pain shoots through his chest and it makes his eye twitch.
Answer her, idiot! Don’t make me look stupid!
“Oh!” Cato sounds out, plastering a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, you…”
Y/n. Her name is y/n.
Y/n. Why does that sound so…familiar?
“Hey?” You say, confusion lacing your voice. The confusion is wiped away once your eyes settle on the scrapes along his jawline and eyebrow, concern replacing it instead. An attentive hand reaches up and carasses against his cheek, and both Cato and Chan have stopped breathing. They both can feel how their cheeks heat up at your touch. Cato has half a mind to flinch away, and he does. Your hand retracts immediately, your mouth pulling to the side in regret for accidentally hurting him. In truth, you didn’t touch him. But the heat of your hand so close to his skin felt as if it was burning. Your pretty eyes are filled to the brim with worry, and you ask, “What happened to your face? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just took a pretty nasty fall last night,” Cato responds, sheepishly. He scratches the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. “That's why I wasn’t in class yesterday. Had to go to the hospital and get my head checked out.”
“Oh, that’s awful! I’m glad you’re okay, though!” You respond, your bright smile coming back to your face, though it is tainted with worry still. “Since you missed class, we were partnered together for a project. Maybe we can meet and I can go over the notes and the project with you? Or I can just… send them to you.”
Tell her we can meet tonight.
What happened to ‘taking it easy’?
Chan only laughs in response.
“I’m down to meet you tonight, if that’s okay.” Cato smiles down at you.
“Yeah, for sure!” You chirp. “I’ll see you at your studio tonight, then? I get off work at seven!”
Studio?
Y/n and I major in music production.
“Cool, I’ll see you there.” Cato responds. You give him a wave goodbye, making your way up to the cashier to check out your things. Cato was so in shock he didn’t even notice you were carrying anything.
His stomach growls. He groans quietly.
For someone who had such a sense of urgency over eating, you sure are taking a long time to get something to eat.
Will you shut the fuck up?
________________
❝i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door.❞
As Eve bore child after child for Adam, for the earth, that pit she so desperately tried to bury in her stomach grew bigger. More insistent. She watches as more and more of her children experience many things she didn’t get to; exploring, meeting, falling in love with who they choose and so on and so forth.
As much as she hates to say it, let alone even let it into her heart, she resents her children. She resents Adam. She resents the life that the strings of fate have weaved for her, as she watches her children experience the freewill that God gifted them. Yet she and Adam are forced to simply be their means to an end, to push their future generations along so the human race may flourish.
As she sits in the garden, weaving a crown of flowers and singing a song she does not think has been orchestrated yet, the stream she sits in front of singing quietly with her, a snake slithers up to her. It’s beautiful brown scales and equally as beautiful brown, slitted eyes glint etherally in the early morning sun. She extends a gentle hand towards it, its forked tongue stretching out to slide across her fingers curiously. She giggles at the ticklish sensation, watching with her own curiosity as he climbs up her forearm and upwards so its head rests gently against her naked shoulder.
She goes back to weaving the stems, the soft melody she hums lulling the snake to sleep against her shoulder.
________________
So, I’m… your vessel?
“Correct,” Cato responds, watching the electric kettle impatiently. Cato had finally decided on food after you left, a bowl of ramen and a couple seaweed snack packages he managed to find in Chan’s desolate cabinet. Seriously, why doesn’t this guy have any sense of care for himself? “Every God and angel has a vessel on earth in case we need to come down.”
Can you just not come down in the way you look?
“No. Our heavenly form will drive an ordinary person insane,” the god lets out a small noise of glee once the kettle settles, indicating it’s finally done heating the water. Humans, as stupid as they can be sometimes (he’s looking at Chan, specifically), they sure have made quite a few amazing inventions. Just like this kettle. He’s absolutely enamored with it. “We originally weren’t supposed to have access to earth. We were just supposed to observe from the heavens.”
But?
“But, there’s just some things the Big Man dangles in front of you and you take the bait,” Cato pours the water in the bowl of ramen, watching as the spices he added immediately dissolve in the scolding liquid. He chuckles in amusement to himself as he recloses the paper lid, laying a pair of chopsticks over it to keep it closed. “Hey, how long should this sit for?”
Like two or three minutes. What do you mean by bait?
“A lot of god’s fell in love with mortals on earth,” Cato answers. “You ever read any Greek mythology stories? Apollo and Hyacinthus. Eros and Psyche. So on and so forth.”
I mean, yeah, but, I didn’t think they were real or anything.
“Oh, they’re definitely real,” the god chuckles. “Apollo and I are friends, actually.”
No way! So, like, is every God from every religion real, then?
“Yeah.” Cato shrugs. He takes the chopsticks off and rips the paper cover off of the bowl, excitedly using the chopsticks to stir the broth and noodles around.
So, why did you come to earth?
Cato pauses. He’s standing in the middle of the kitchen like an idiot, frozen in real time as he stares dumbfounded into the bowl of noodles. Why… Why did he come to earth?
Hello? Earth to Cato? Your food is gonna get cold.
“Oh, right,” Cato shakes his head to rid him of his internal struggle. “I… I don’t know why I came to earth. I don’t seem to remember.” He manages to make his way to Chan’s kitchen table, which is just a small round table with two rickety chairs in the corner of his living room.
So do vessels usually die before god’s possess them?
“No, not usually – ah! Fuck, that’s still hot,” Cato whines, sticking his burned tongue out and waving air onto it with his fingers. Chan’s laugh echoes in his head, and he makes an offended noise from the back of his throat as he continues fanning his tongue.
So, me dying the same time you came down was just… pure luck?
“Yeah,” Cato makes sure to blow cold air onto the noodles this time. “I mean, lucky for me. Not so much for you.”
What’s gonna happen when you leave?
“You’ll probably die.”
But you healed me? Shouldn’t that stay when you leave?
Cato shrugs. “Don’t know. You’re technically not even supposed to be conscious like this, either. I’m supposed to have full control of your vessel if I possess it.”
Comforting.
It’s silent after that. Cato is grateful Chan has stopped playing twenty questions. It gives Cato’s one track mind a way to fully focus on his food and not about the fact that he does not remember why he’s even here in the first place. But it’s not like he can just go back up to the heavens and ask someone. As annoying as he is, he quite likes the human that’s his vessel. It’s a shame that once the god is done on earth, Chan’s fatal wounds will most likely come back full force.
Cato hopes he’s able to leave fast enough to not have to witness it.
After Cato ate, Chan was insistent on switching when it came time for his meet with you later in the evening. It took a lot of bickering back and forth, but once Chan got it through the stubborn god’s head that you would know something was off with him (that didn’t have to do with his head injury) the second Cato opened his, in Chan’s words, “big dumb mouth”.
“Why do we have to pass out to switch?” Chan asks as he steps out of the shower.
Do you always have this many questions? Gods, I feel like I’m speaking to a toddler.
Chan copies his words in a silly voice, rolling his eyes as he does so. “Sue me for wanting to know how to work my body with someone else camping in it.”
The way you said that just sounds so… weird.
“And a god possessing a human body is just a regular Tuesday, right?” the human jokes.
For us, yeah.
“Shut the fuck up, Cato,” Chan chuckles, shaking his head in faux annoyance. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror and runs his fingers through his thick curls. For some reason his stomach is buzzing at the thought of being in his studio with you.
Why are you so nervous to see y/n?
Chan’s cheeks heat up. “I’m not,” he mutters.
You know I can feel everything, right?
Chan doesn’t respond, too afraid that his voice might way to just how flustered he is. It’s true he finds you very attractive, and your personalities mesh well together. You both have a lot in common and since the day he met you he’s felt a weird, otherworldly pull towards you. “You said her name was familiar to you. Why?” Cato doesn’t respond for a minute, and Chan almost wonders if the god even heard him ask. “Cato?”
I… I don’t know. Just when you said it it just felt like deja vu for some reason. How long have you been friends?
“Since she started college,” Chan replies. “She’s like two years below me.”
Chan doesn’t miss the weird boulder that settles in his stomach. But for some reason, it feels distant. Like it’s not his boulder.
________________
❝apollo showed me the sun. told me not to fly too close or else i would be one with the people on the land.❞
The snake visited Eve in the garden everyday, in the same spot, resting its head on her naked shoulder as she weaved crown after crown of flowers every day, humming the same tune. It became a routine, and then it became something for Eve to look forward to. She finally had something for herself! Adam was out every day for most of it hunting so Eve spent a lot of time with this serpent.
She couldn’t place her finger on why, but when she was alone, weaving her flowers, with the snake on her shoulder, she’d talk. Like word vomit, she vented about her unhappiness in the garden and her jealousy towards her children being able to explore the vast earth and experience things she will never have the privilege to. For she was cursed to stay here, day after day, weaving her flowers in the garden, and bearing more and more children for a man she felt absolutely nothing for. Even the garden, once vibrant and vast to Eve, was now growing dull and shrinking in on her. She feels trapped, she’d say. Her world was dying, and there was nothing she could do about it.
“Why me?” She asked the snake one day. “Why did I have to be the first one made? Why do I have to carry this responsibility? Why wasn’t I asked first? Where’s my freewill?”
The snake nuzzles its head, like it was gesturing that it was listening to her. “I wish you were a person,” Eve whispered. “Maybe then I’d have someone who gets me.”
The serpent nuzzles its head again. Eve’s eyes well with hot tears.
She’s so lonely.
________________
Chan is reeling.
It’s hotter in his studio than usual. It’s definitely not because you’re alone with him in his studio and for some reason that’s making him more flustered than usual. Definitely not. He’s definitely not noticing the perfume you used, or the way your fingers flit over your laptop keys almost elegantly, the click of the keys echoing in his ears. He also most definitely was not looking at how your thighs look sitting in his extra chair, or how your dainty necklace falls on your neck, the charm brushing against the low collar of your tee shirt.
You’re sweating profusely right now. Calm down, you pervert.
Shut up, Cato. I feel like I can barely breathe right now.
Yeah, I know. That’s why I said calm down, pervert. Did you not hear me?
“Are you okay, Chan?” You ask him, concern washing over your pretty features as he tugs on the collar of his shirt for the fourth time in thirty seconds. “Do you want to cut this short and meet another day? You don’t look so good.”
Chan all but stops breathing when your delicate hand reaches up and presses gently against his forehead. Your hand is cold, and it works to cool his heated skin almost immediately. His eyes fall close, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “No, I’m okay,” he says, opening his eyes again and giving you a gentle smile. He watches as your cheeks flush the slightest bit. “Just needed a second is all.”
“Let’s take a break, yeah?” You say, closing your laptop as an excuse to not look at him for a second. Chan nods, and then it’s quiet for a minute. Neither of you know how to act around each other. Sure, you were friends but you weren’t best friends. Chan and you also never really hung out one on one, it was really always you, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung or anyone else in your classes. While he didn’t consider everyone to be his friends, always keeping to his close knit circle, he did know a lot of people, and those people also happened to know you. So it was never the right time to get to know you. “So… Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?” You puff your cheek out, shyly. Chan can’t help but let the smile stretch across his face.
“What’s there about me you wanna know?” He asks. Your cheeks flush again, and you scramble to keep your hands busy, opting to twirl your pen between your fingers.
“I don’t know,” you shrug. “We’ve known each other for so long but I don’t think we’ve ever really had the chance to actually know each other.”
He nods. “You’re right,” he sucks in a breath, letting his gaze fall towards his desktop as he thinks of what to tell you. “Well, I was born in Australia.”
“Yeah, I know that,” you giggle. “You and Felix talk about it all the time. What’s it like there?”
“Hot,” he chuckles, shrugging. “It’s beautiful, really. All my family is still there so there’s… like this part of me that’s still there with them, if you get what I’m trying to say.” Chan lets out another breathy laugh, suddenly embarrassed.
“I think I do,” you say, nodding your head. “Like a piece of you is missing because it’s back home?”
“Yeah, something like that,” Chan says. “I miss it sometimes.”
“I bet. It must have been hard moving here all by yourself.”
“I mean yeah, but… I don’t know, as much as Australia is my home, this is also home, you know? I love what I do and I’ve found my people. So it makes up for the part of me I left at home,” you both nod along to his words, small smiles shyly turning up your mouths. “What about you?”
“Well,” you sigh, still twiddling with the pen. Your leg starts shaking. “I’m from here.”
“Yeah, I know that.” Chan copies your words, which brings out a giggle from you. His heart lurches.
I felt that.
Shut up.
“I don’t know, I…” you trail off, letting yourself think of what you wanna say. “My moms a school teacher and my dads a realtor, so we’re well off on my dad’s money. They’re kinda the… traditional, married at nineteen, had me at twenty, church every sunday, and have a certain plan for their daughter kind of people.”
“And?”
You shrug. “For the most part I went along with what they wanted me to do. Perfect grades, perfect clothes, perfect boyfriend that I’ll one day have to marry and continue the cycle,” Chan doesn’t miss the way his eye twitches at the mention of a boyfriend. “But, I really rocked the boat when I said I wanted to go into music production.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s… Well they say it’s unrealistic,” you sigh. “I’ve always loved music, and when my perfect, middle class family life got to be too much pressure to uphold, it comforted me. I taught myself all the instruments I know.”
“Impressive.” He chuckles.
“Right?” You giggle along with him. Chan decides he really likes that sound. “But, they expected me to almost go into something… I don’t know, easy? Something that will let me rely on Seojun when we eventually get married.”
“Do you want to get married?” Chan asks, eyebrow raising a little. Your fingers stop twiddling with the pen and your leg goes still for just a second before it picks up again.
“Honestly? No,” you say. “It’s just not something I feel like is for me. Of course, I want to spend the rest of my life with someone but I don’t need a piece of paper or an expensive ring to solidify that I love them and they love me.”
“How long have you been with Seojun?” Chan almost feels the bile that coats the man’s name as he says it.
“Three years,” you answer. “My dad is business partners with his dad and we met at a company party and it just kind of… I don’t know, happened.” You shrug.
“Is he in college too?” You nod your head yes.
“He’s in finance,” you glance over at him. “He’s actually almost done. He’ll be working under his dad after he graduates. His dad is also paying for his real estate classes after he graduates so he can sell commercial properties.”
It’s quiet again, and your leg is still shaking. Your face, now pointedly looking away from him, holds a sort of… loneliness. And almost a hint of regret for even saying what you did out loud.
Don’t ask that.
“Can I ask you a question?” Chan interrupts the heavy silence, and pointedly ignoring Cato’s warning. You hum, letting yourself look at him again. The loneliness he saw on your face floods your eyes. It’s almost overwhelming. “And you can tell me if I’ve crossed the line and we’ll never talk about this again.”
Don’t ask that.
“What is it?”
“Do you… like Seojun?”
And you asked it. I cannot believe you.
Your face falls, but it doesn’t morph into anger like he thought it would. You don’t yell at him, or tell him to mind his business and storm out. He doesn’t know why he was expecting you to lash out at him like that, though. Call it anxiety, he guesses. Instead, that loneliness intensifies — if that was even possible. You’re quiet for a minute, almost like you were deciding to lie to him or if you were about to spill something he’s not sure he — or you — would know what to do with.
“He’s nice,” you settle on. “We don’t have that much in common, but he treats me well.”
I don’t like that answer.
Neither do I.
Chan only nods, though.
“Should we get back to it, then?” You ask, your mouth turned into a tight lipped smile.
“Yeah.” He smiles.
You both delve into a rhythm of bouncing ideas off each other, and the building almost obsessively on the idea you both really like. Chan doesn’t know why he hasn’t worked with you before this, you’re so smart and your ideas are so unique and full of life. He can really see your love for music and the creative process behind making it. His heart flutters a bit at the thought that you both share this pure love for music in the same way.
“Do you wanna maybe meet again tomorrow?” You ask as you pack up your stuff. By the time you both decide to call it quits, it’s nearing one in the morning. He walks with you to your dorm, and he can’t help but smile shyly at the hopeful look in your angelic eyes. You're holding onto your tote bags strap that sits comfortably on your shoulder. He sees you shiver a little, and then only notices the pathetic little jacket you decided to wear despite it being less than forty degrees outside. He fights giving you his jacket. He would, normally without hesitation, but after learning you have a boyfriend he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries, no matter how cute he thinks you would look swimming in his hoodie.
Down boy, down.
Will you stop?
I’ll stop when you stop being such a male.
“We can go to the cafe on campus after class,” Chan suggests. You nod, giving him a bigger smile at his words. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” you say. Your eyes glint with excitement as you nod your head. “Text me when you get home, okay?”
“Will do.” He reassures you as you open the main door to your dorm and walk in. He waves to you from outside and then steps off the porch, walking down the lit walkway, unable to erase the smile from his face.
You like her.
“Shut up,” he sputters out. “She’s always been in my sights, and I always thought she was cute. We just never had the chance to bond like that before. Changbin or Jisung are always usually with us, or my other friends.”
Too bad she’s someone else’s.
Chan rolls his eyes. Quietly, though, he wonders what would have happened had he met you before you met Seojun. Would you be his? Would you be happier with him?
Cato heard those too.
________________
❝didn’t know my world was dark until you came.❞
Eve sits in her usual spot, weaving her flowers once more. It’s another day, but this time she’s by herself. The snake hasn’t showed up yet, but she hopes it's on its way now. She tries not to let herself get too upset over not having her usual companion today, but she can’t help it. This newfound routine of her weaving flowers and talking to the snake while he rested peacefully on her arm has brought her more happiness than anything else in the garden – even the entire world – could.
So when a day turns into two, and then turns into three, then seven, her mood worsens. Even Adam, as unobservant as he is, noticed her change in mood. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong though, of course he doesn’t. As much as he claims to love her, to cherish her with his entire earthly being and his heavenly soul, he never seems to notice her until he wants to bend her over in the grass and give her another baby. Or two. Or three.
On the eighth day, when Eve is back at her favorite spot, weaving flower stems, a frown on her lips, a man approaches from out of the brush. It’s a man she has never seen before, but he is beautiful. Chocolate brown eyes and pretty brown hair to match with them, he gives her a gentle smile. “Hi,” he says. “You might not recognize me.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” Eve says, on guard. She’s covering her body, cautious. “You’re not one of my children. So who are you?”
“I– I’m the snake,” he says. “My name is Cato. I’m a god.”
“Cato,” Eve repeats, the name swirling around her tongue pleasantly. “That means all-knowing.”
“Yes.”
“So, why did you come to me as a snake and not as yourself, Cato?” She asks, sitting up straighter against the tree behind her. “Why not show yourself to me from the start instead of deceiving me?”
“Forgive me, my dear,” he bows his head in apology. “I did not have an earthly body, and my heavenly form would have scared you. I transformed myself into a snake to meet you, and until my earthly body was ready. I am sorry for tricking you.” His eyes, his beautiful eyes, shine with genuine regret.
“What do you want from me?” She asks.
“Forgive me if I sound weird,” he starts. “But I was there when God made you. You are so beautiful, I will never understand how he did not make you an angel. Alas, I fell for you. And then before I could say anything, he sent you down here with Adam. And I had no way of meeting you anymore.”
“You…” she trails off. “Fell? For me?”
“Yes, my angel,” he says, walking closer and settling himself on his knees before her. “I fell for you. You have my heart. And if you let me, I would love to have yours.” The god takes her delicate hand into his, running his thumb over her knuckles. His hands engulf hers, long, spindly fingers holding hers with such love, such gentleness that she’s never felt from Adam’s rough, calloused hands.
She finds her heart fluttering at his honey coated words.
________________
When Chan gets home from dropping you off at your dorm, he remembers to send you a quick text before he retires into bed.
When he sleeps that night, he dreams. He dreams of him, in an earlier time, walking with you through a beautiful garden.
Your cream colored dress encases your body so elegantly, and the way you wore your hair out of your face yet still cascading down your back makes you look so… ethereal. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”
“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”
Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”
“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling.
“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.
He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”
“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”
“I am sorry, y/n.”
“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”
He wakes up in the morning, confused. The sadness he felt within the dream stays with him as he gets ready for the day, unable to shake the sinking feeling in his stomach. It’s uncomfortable, and he tries to get it to go away by saying to himself in the bathroom mirror, “it’s just a dream. Why are you so upset about it?”
Upset about what?
“Oh,” Chan says, startled by Cato’s questioning voice in his head. “Just… A weird dream. It’s nothing.”
Whatever you say, human.
Chan doesn’t respond, brushing his teeth in a tense, perturbed, silence.
—
Classes were dragging. He’s unable to fully pay attention to what his professors are saying because he can’t get the dream out of his head. Why did it feel so… real? And familiar? Like it's actually happened before? And the loneliness in your eyes from the dream matched the loneliness he saw in them last night when you were talking about Seojun.
Your thinking is echoing and it’s annoying me. What was the dream about?
A nicer way of asking “what’s wrong” is just asking what’s wrong, you know.
Chan’s eyes roll, but he doesn’t do it himself.
Don’t roll my eyes for me, I’m the one in control right now.
Sorry, I just had to show you my annoyance somehow.
This time, Chan does roll his eyes.
“Hyung?” Minho whispers from next to him, tapping his pen against the older man’s forearm. “Are you okay? You keep rolling your eyes.”
Damn, were they that dramatic?
Roll your eyes quieter next time, idiot.
You’re the idiot.
“I’m okay,” Chan reassures quietly. “Just trying to keep them from falling shut.”
“Did you not get enough sleep again? Do I need to start coming over and knocking you out?” Minho balls his hand into a fist, and it takes everything in Chan to not laugh at his friends' antics. Before he can respond, though, their professor clears his throat in annoyance, giving them a glare from his spot in front of the lecture hall. They exchange embarrassed glances before going back to listening to the lecture.
He quickly makes eye contact with you from a few seats in front of him, and he watches in amusement as you scramble to face completely forward, flustered that he caught you staring at him. He exhales a laugh at your antics, shaking his head slightly as he goes back to typing on his laptop.
Cute.
Yeah.
After class ends, and Chan’s packing up his stuff, you walk up to him, your tote bag over your shoulder, giving him a shy smile. “You ready?”
Minho wiggles his eyebrows at Chan, and he tries not to notice how his cheeks flush at his younger friends' antics. “Yeah, let’s go,” he responds. He turns to Minho, who’s giving him a raised eyebrow. “See you around, Min.”
“Yeah,” the younger male responds. “Bye, y/n!” He waves her a goodbye, of which you copy quite excitedly. The corner of Chan’s lip turns up into a small smile at your antics towards the other male. He knows that out of their whole group, you seem to be closest with Minho and Hwang Hyunjin, always seeing you three together in passing. He wonders if you two will start getting closer, even after the project is finished. He hopes so. He doesn’t think he can go about just being casual to each other – especially after last night's conversation.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Your voice breaks through his thoughts, causing him to shake his head a bit in response.
Good going, idiot.
Shut up, Cato. As if you’ve done any better with her. Remember the convenience store?
This isn’t about me right now.
He fights rolling his eyes. “No reason,” he answers you. “Come on, let’s get some coffee.”
The cafe he took you to is the one right across the street from the building your class was held in. It used to be a house, now repurposed as a cafe, and it has the perfect homey feel to it to help you feel comfortable and relaxed as you picked a seat in one of the upstairs rooms that has a couple tables in each of them for a little more privacy. The morning sun is shining brightly into the window, and Chan can’t help but let out a small chuckle to himself as he watches the way you squint from the sun as you try and look out the window. “Should I close the blind?” He asks as he sits across from you, pushing your tea to your side.
“No,” you say as you happily pick up the cup. You blow on your tea to cool it down, and Chan can’t help but let his smile grow at the way your cheeks puff out dramatically when you blow on the drink. “I like sunbathing. Minho’s cats and I will lay on our bellies together in front of the big windows in his living room.”
“I’d love to see that sometime,” he laughs out. He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks flush and you giggle shyly in response. “I’m sure Min has a plethora of pictures of it.”
“Don’t tell him I told you but,” you start, taking a sip of your tea. “He joins us.”
“Somehow I really don’t doubt that.”
You fall into a rhythm once more over your project, and after a couple hours, you both decide to take a break.
“So, are you seeing anyone?” You ask him out of nowhere, now sipping on a second cup of tea. Chan chokes on his coffee, but he quickly covers it up by clearing his throat.
Cato laughs. Nice one.
Shut the fuck up, Cato.
“No, I’m not,” Chan answers, taking a more cautious sip now. “I’ve never actually been in a serious relationship.”
“Oh?” you say, quizzically. “So, you’ve never had a girlfriend?”
“No, I have.” He answers, his cheeks heating. He doesn’t understand why he’s so flustered with your questions, even if they did come out of nowhere. Well, he does understand why. He just doesn’t wanna say it out loud.
They weren’t y/n, though, right, Channie boy?
Cato, I swear to God.
Don’t bring the Big Man into this.
“But?” You inquire.
“But,” he copies. “They just didn’t work out. We wanted different things.” He shrugs, and you nod in understanding. “Why the sudden interest in my love life, y/n?” The teasing lilt to his voice causes you to stammer out, falling (rather cutely) over your words, trying your best to come up with a reason. Chan chuckles at the rattled expression on your face.
You know why she’s asking.
I don’t.
Don’t be stupid, Chan.
Chan fights a scoff at the god’s words, not wanting to give you the wrong impression. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to explain who’s camping in his consciousness with him without taking a trip to the nearest psych ward.
‘Man claims God lives in him’ has been a headline I’ve seen too much in the time humans have existed.
I wonder why.
Before Chan can continue the conversation he has with you (more like redirect it so he doesn’t have to admit to his commitment issues), something – or someone – catches your attention from behind him. The way your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and a flash of disdain that goes away as fast as it showed up cause Chan to turn around. A man is seating himself in the room across the hall, a blonde girl at his side as they laugh at something the man says. He turns back around to see that you’re still looking at them. “Y/n? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, that’s Seojun,” you say. Chan’s stomach drops, turning back around at the exact time Seojun turns to look at the two of you. Something flashes across the other man’s face, but it’s gone before Chan can even fully register what it is.
Seojun turns to the blonde next to him, before he turns back and starts walking towards their table. Seojun is… wow, is he tall. And buff. Chan almost feels intimated.
Oh great, here comes the jolly green giant.
Chan has to force himself to not laugh at Cato’s comment as he turns back to you. You give him a weird face, which he decides to ignore.
Cato, please.
I’m just saying. Why is God so unfair when he makes you humans? He could have given Seojun’s extra height to you.
Stop it!
No one needs to be that tall is all I’m saying.
“What are you doing here, babe?” Seojun asks as he stands next to you at the table, a rushed lilt to his voice. Almost like he’S panicking. Chan watches your face as it drops, the tight lipped smile you give to your boyfriend is clear to no one but him. “Who’s this?”
“This is Chan,” you answer. “He’s my partner for a project.”
“Hey. I’m her boyfriend, Seojun,” the other man says, outstretching his hand for Chan to take. He does, giving it a firm shake and a quick head nod in greeting. “Though, I’m sure you’ve already heard of me.”
Arrogant.
Tell me about it.
“Oh, I’ve heard plenty,” Chan responds, the snark in his voice subtle enough that it seems like a genuine compliment. “She said you were in finance.”
“Oh, yeah,” Seojun answers. “It’s gonna help out a lot, money wise. This girl right here wants a big wedding. Isn’t that right, babe?”
Chan’s eye twitches as he looks to you for your response. Your smile is that of discomfort, tight lipped as you rigidly nod your head, not making eye contact with Chan.
“Who are you with?” You ask, changing the subject as you strain your neck to look into the next room. “Is that Aecha?”
Seojun’s face drops. “Oh, uh, no. That's my project partner,” he answers quickly. “We have a business plan due in a couple weeks so we’re meeting to get it done early.”
“Oh, okay,” you say simply. Your eyes stay on the girl in the other room, squinting a little in suspicion.“I didn’t know you had a project.”
“Yeah,” Seojun rubs his neck, almost nervously. “Well, I should get back to her. I’ll leave you two alone, now. Don’t forget about the dinner with our parents tomorrow.”
“How could I,” you mutter as he starts walking away. “I’ll see you later.”
Chan’s almost grateful that Seojun didn’t kiss you. It seems you look grateful he didn’t, too. He can’t help but notice the way your mood instantly sours after Seojun leaves, though you try not to show it too much. You give him a forced smile. “Shall we continue with our project then?” You ask him, your voice pitches higher towards the end, and Chan knows you’re uncomfortable.
I don’t like him.
Neither do I.
________________
❝i could die in your arms.❞
Eve is giggling.
She’s resting her head on the soft grass that encases her body, the edges of the blades tickling against her naked waist. Cato lays next to her, chuckling along with her. “So,” she starts as she sits up on her side, picking a flower from the field and rolling it between her fingers gently. “If your name means all-knowing… Does that mean you’re a god of knowledge?”
Cato quiets. Eerily quiet. In the short time Eve has known him as his humanly self, he is never short of words. He always has a story or a joke to tell, Eve wonders how his puny human lungs can even hold that much air for him to talk so much. So, for him to go as quiet as he did, she worries.
“Did I say something to upset you?” she asks, her delicate fingers stopping its movements. He also sits up on his side, letting his long fingers brush through the front of her hair as a small smile encases his beautiful face.
“No, my angel,” he responds. “You could never do anything to upset me,” his thumb swiped gently across her bottom lip, and then down her chin before his hand fell back to his side. Eve feels her face heat up. “I’m not the god of knowledge, as you might think. Actually… I’m a calamity god.”
Eve doesn’t respond. “Like… the flood? That kind of calamity?”
He nods. “I was ordered to flood the earth myself.”
“It killed everyone…” Eve whispers, widened eyes filled with tears. “Why?”
“God is…” Cato trails, unsure if he should continue. His eyes, so beautiful and such a deep color, cascade down to glare at the grass blades dancing in the wind, unbeknownst to them that a god is staring them down with a look of disdain on his expression. Eve can see the regret and the anger in his eyes as he stares down at the earth beneath them. Eve wishes she can rid him of the hatred he feels for himself.
He doesn’t have to say anything, though. Because Eve knows how God is. She knows how He is all too well. For she, too, has been forced to be things she does not wish to be, solely because the person who created her says so. Her own eyes well with tears. Tears of anger and sadness, for both her and Cato. She doesn’t think anyone on this damned planet will ever understand them the way they do each other.
“Did you want to?” She asks. Cato shakes his head.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he adds. “It’s what I was created for. To bring destruction.”
“I think you’re more than what you were meant for.” She says, a smile on her face.
Eve doesn’t expect it, but the god starts crying. And as he cries, she cradles him in her arms, brushing her fingers through his curly hair. “You are good, Cato,” she whispers in his ear, letting her lips ghost gently against the shell of it. “It does not matter what you have done, you are good.”
She presses a gentle kiss to his temple as his wails echo in the garden.
________________
Chan doesn’t hear from you all weekend. You weren’t in class Friday morning, and you haven’t answered any of his messages since before your dinner with your parents. He hasn’t thought much of it. He assumed you had a late night on Thursday and just skipped class the next morning because you were nursing a hangover.
“Hey, have you heard from y/n?” Minho asks him Monday afternoon, when their whole group is sitting at a table in the cafeteria. “I’m only asking because you two have been… close recently.”
His cheeks flush as he watches his other friends look at him with widened eyes and agape mouths. “Uh, no I haven’t. I was actually just gonna ask you the same thing.”
“Didn’t she have dinner with her parents on Thursday?” Jeongin asks. Chan nods in response. “Last I heard from her was when she was asking me which outfit was appropriate for the dinner, she didn’t seem like she wanted to go, though.”
“Yeah, she was texting our group chat during it and she wasn’t having a very good time. But she never usually does with her parents involved.” Hyunjin adds, taking a bite of his noodles.
“What group chat? I didn’t get anything in our group chat,” Jisung whines, opening his phone to double check.
“Me, y/n, Minho hyung and Felix all have a separate group chat together,” Hyunjin answers casually. “She was texting in there.”
Chan tunes them out as Jisung and Changbin start whining that they want a group chat with you, but all Chan can focus on is how you’ve gone completely silent since Wednesday.
“Hey, hyung,” Felix says, getting the older man’s attention by waving his small hand in front of his face. “Don’t worry about y/n. She’s okay. She goes ghost like this sometimes, especially after an event with her parents. She’ll come back around soon, she just needs to recharge.”
“Are you mad at her for not answering you?” Minho questions, eyebrow raised. The younger male looked as if he was waiting for Chan to answer the wrong way.
“No, of course not. Why would I be?” Chan shakes his head in response. “I was just worried. We’ve just… been talking a lot recently and I wasn’t sure if I did something to upset her or anything.”
“I don’t think you could ever do anything to upset her.” Felix mutters, and Chan watches in confusion as he and Hyunjin both share a knowing look with one another. Minho elbows Hyunjin in the ribs.
It means she likes you, idiot.
Do you know how to be nice?
Chan doesn’t get any response from you until Tuesday night. A simple “can i come over?” was all you sent him.
Now, he’s panickedly cleaning his apartment while he waits anxiously for you.
Why don’t you clean like this on a normal day?
“Because,” Chan grunts as he scrubs at a particular stain in his bowl. “I’m a busy guy and don’t have time to keep up with things regularly.”
Just as Cato is about to respond, there's a knock on the front door. Chan stops in his tracks, hurriedly rinsing the bowl and adding the last couple of dishes into one side of the sink to hide them as he runs to answer the door, clumsily drying his hands on his pants. When he opens the door, you’re standing there, glaring at the space where the door was a second ago. “Hey,” he says, which snaps you out of your trance to look up at him.
“Hi,” you answer softly, smiling. Though it doesn’t match the defeated look in your eyes. “Can I come in?”
Chan nods, stepping aside as you walk into his apartment. He follows you to his couch, where you both sit on opposite ends. Your legs immediately go up, knees pressing against your chest as you wrap your arms around your legs. You’re not making eye contact with Chan, and it makes his stomach hollow in anxiety. You look so sad it almost feels like it’s creeping into his bones, souring his mood and ramping up his anxiety as he sees you cave in on yourself from the other end of his couch. He watches as you bat away tears, rolling your eyes in annoyance as they fill your pretty eyes.
“Is there something you want to talk about?” Chan asks softly, scooting himself closer to you. He crosses his legs on his couch and turns his body to you, giving you a softened, welcoming look. The hand that isn’t propping his head against the back of the couch is twitching on his legs to reach out, to hold yours to comfort you. But he doesn’t want to over step and make you uncomfortable. You don’t answer, seemingly falling back into a spaced out trance, if the unfocus in your eyes is anything to go by. He lets his finger gently rub against your shin to get your attention, and he watches as your eyes fill with tears once more as you look up at him. “What’s wrong, y/n?”
“Nothing,” you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip. “Just… wanted to see you.”
Chan doesn’t believe it, giving you a raised eyebrow. “Just to see me?”
“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing. “I missed you is all,” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, giving him a small smile. “I got used to seeing you all the time now.”
Chan’s cheeks flush, and he tries not to let his smile get too dopey as his heart flutters at your words.
Oh! You pathetic man.
Stop.
“How was the dinner with your parents?” Chan asks. You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your throat as you look away from him. “Was it bad?”
You’re quiet. You look as if you want to say something, the words on the tip of your tongue and threatening to spill over. But you hesitate. You’re biting your tongue as you contemplate your next words. It almost concerns him.
“If I do something,” you start quietly. “Would you be mad?”
Chan’s eyebrows scrunch, his head tilting to the side in question. “What is it?”
“Can I try something?” Eve asks, tilting her head as her eyes flicker between Cato’s mouth and his pretty dark eyes. Cato nods, watching in nervous anticipation as Eve climbs over his lap, plush thighs on either side of his lips as she leans in and ghosts her lips against his.
Cato catches her mouth in a soft, tender kiss. It raises goosebumps to their skin, and their heartbeats quicken. Eve’s belly erupts in butterflies, climbing up her throat and she lets out a small sound. Cato hands find home at her waist, the pads of his fingers indenting her skin as he squeezes gently.
You finally look at him, eyes flitting down the length of his face, stopping at his mouth before looking at him again. Your gaze flickers between his mouth and his eyes before you lean forward, your nose ghosting against his as your lips meet. Chan responds immediately, cupping your face and deepening the kiss.
It’s shy, yet so electric. The butterflies you feel in your stomach are intense, prickling up your back and making you light headed. It isn’t long before you're clamoring across the couch and into Chan’s lap. His hands slide down your waist before he wraps his arms around your back, caging you into his body. He keeps his mouth working against yours, and can’t help the way his cock jumps when your hips shift a little, pressing your clothed core against him. Your hands hold his face, your thumb brushing against the apples of his cheeks every once and a while. His heart swells at the noises you make as you shyly start to grind yourself down against him, wanting to feel him more and more against you.
Should you really be doing that?
Doing what?
Kissing someone who isn’t yours.
“Wait,” Chan says as he pulls back. He has to swallow the groan that’s threatening to escape his throat as he takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are red, lips swollen and spit slick. You already look so fucked out and all he’s done is kiss you. He feels like he’s going crazy. “What about Seojun?”
“What about Adam?” Cato asks Eve as he breaks away, his fingers rubbing circles on her hips.
“It was never Seojun,” You respond, shaking your head. Your thumb swipes against his cheek. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Chan.”
“It was never Adam,” Eve responds, nails digging into the skin on his shoulders. “I waited for you for so long, Cato.”
“Since the day I met you,” you continued, breathless. Somehow, your cheeks turn redder. He doesn’t think you could look more angelic than right now. “I’ve wanted you.”
“Since the day I came into existence,” Eve sighs out. Cato thinks she looks absolutely ethereal this way. “I’ve waited for you.”
Cato can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips as he leans up to kiss her again.
Chan doesn’t respond, only placing a hand at the back of your neck and pulling you back down to him. He kisses you again, this time a little more desperate, a little more aggressive. You whine, letting your lips fall open so his tongue can explore inside your mouth. Your mouths work in perfect sync with one another, a desperate, needy, rhythm that says more than any words in the English and Korean lexicon could ever say. He can’t explain the way he feels while he’s kissing you, but he feels as if clouds are filling his head.
His hands move back to your hips, helping you to grind down against his hardened cock, and he doesn’t miss the way your whines sound more and more breathy each time he moves you against him. “Have you ever had sex before?” He asks you.
“No,” you say. “No one’s ever touched me, either.”
“You mean, in the three years you’ve been with Seojun, he hasn’t fucked you once?” Chan asks, eyebrows furrowing and a sense of pride filling his chest. You shake your head. “Why?”
“I didn’t want him to.” You whisper.
He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist as he stands up from his couch, carrying you into his bedroom and gently placing you atop his sheets.
Cato lays her naked body gently on her back in the soft grass. She looks so pretty like this, some of hair still laying softly over her shoulders and the rest blending beautifully with the grass, eyes widened in curiosity. “I got you, my love,” he says in a gentle voice as he crawls over her. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”
He thinks this sight alone is enough to be painted and framed in a gallery. Eve, splayed out like this for him with her ruddy cheeks and widened eyes. It was a sight he never wanted to stop seeing.
He kisses her again before letting his mouth move from her own to her cheek, jaw, then down her neck, biting softly on his way down.
Chan unbuttons your jeans, and you help him with getting them off your legs and onto his floor. He takes off your shirt and bra next, leaving you only in your underwear. He crawls over you, his thigh slotting in between your legs and ghosting against your clothed cunt. “Let me take care of you, my love.”
He kisses your lips once more before he places a kiss on your cheek, then along your jaw, then down the expense of your neck, leaving pretty purple marks along the way. He stops at your breasts, ghosting his mouth around one nipple before taking it into his mouth. His free hand comes to tweak the other, softly pinching and rubbing along the top of it while his mouth works at the other. Your hand weaves its way into his soft curls, pushing them off his forehead so you can see what he’s doing better. He almost moans at the feeling of your hips bucking up to slide your cunt against his thigh.
“Just like that, angel,” he mutters against your skin. You whine, your fingers almost kneading the top of his head. He presses his thigh more into your core, giving you more friction that makes your sensitive body jolt and your breath hitch.
He doesn’t stay long at your breasts, opting to let his kisses and marks trail down your torso, right to your hips. He settles onto his stomach, hands holding the under part of your hips as he takes in the sight of your cunt. A wet patch has soaked through your underwear, sticking to your lips and outlining the shape of you. He presses a gentle kiss against the wet patch, and he doesn’t miss the way your hips jolt back. “Chan,” You whine.
“Yes?” He coos, freeing a hand from under you and letting his pointer finger gently ghost along your cunt. You wiggle your hips, trying to get more pressure from his finger but he pulls it away. “You have to tell me what you want, angel. Wiggling your hips isn’t gonna help me know what you want.”
He watches in adoration as your cheeks flush yet again, your eyes darting to look everywhere but at him as you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “I want you to touch me,” you whisper. “Please, touch me.” Your words come out so breathy, so desperate, it makes Chan’s head want to explode. He gives you a smile.
“Anything for you, my love,” he responds before he sits back up on his knees, letting his fingers grab ahold of the waistband of your panties and sliding them slowly down your legs with your help. They fall somewhere on the edge of the bed behind him, but it’s not something he’s concerned about as the musky smell of your cunt hits his nose again as he lays back down. Your cunt glistens so prettily for him, and he forces himself to hold in a moan. “You’re so pretty.”
His fingers slide up and down between your swollen lips, and you let out small whines whenever his fingers rub a teasing circle against your clit that’s peeking out between your slit. He kisses along your inner thighs, across your mound as he slowly inserts a finger into your entrance.
Cato kisses along Eve’s thighs, before he gives a broad swipe of his tongue up the expense of her cunt. She gasps, hips twitching. “Has he ever done this to you?”
“No,” Eve sighs out as Cato gives another broad swipe. “He barely touches me.” Cato doesn’t respond, letting his tongue circle around Eve’s clit, which elicits a moan to fall from her pretty mouth.
“Don’t worry, my angel,” Cato says. “I’ll show you just how a man should love you.”
Your walls clench around his finger, and he places gentle kisses against your sensitive nub, whispering, “Relax, baby. I got you.” Your body deflates when you let out the breath you were holding, your own hand falling towards the hand that’s gripping onto your hip. You intertwine your fingers together, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze as he crooks his finger up into that spongy spot that has your back arching slightly and a gasp falling from your pretty lips. His mouth attaches itself to your clit, alternating between lightly sucking and feverish kitten licks. Your hand squeezes his as shy moans involuntarily fall from your lips at his ministrations.
He feels his cock pulsing at each sound you let out, and he can’t help but grind his hips down onto the bed for some friction of his own. “Chan, more, please,” you whine out, bucking your hips into his face. He doesn’t hesitate to add another finger, scissoring you open as his mouth continues at your clit. He pumps his fingers in and out of your entrance slowly, making sure to hook up when he plunges back in. You’re so tight around his fingers, and he can’t help but let out a moan at the thought of you taking his cock, sucking him into your warm walls. The fact that no one has ever touched you – not even your own boyfriend – and that he has the honor of being your first is driving him up a wall.
Only he gets to see you this way. Only he gets to hear your whiny moans, and only he gets to see the pretty way your body reacts to his touch. He can't help but let his fingers get a little faster, a little more prominent in the way they press against that sweet spot that has the coil tightening in the pit of your belly. “Chan.”
“You gonna cum, angel?” He asks against your pussy, keeping his steady yet harsh rhythm of his fingers plunging into your hole. You let out a hum as your response, and he can’t help but smile against your cunt. He keeps his mouth on your clit, his eyes rolling back as you let out another moan, your hips bucking to feel more, more, more. You clench around his fingers, your pretty sounds are strangled as your body clenches up, and that’s when he knows to remove his mouth from your clit, watching your face as your jaw slacks, and your body writhes so prettily under him. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.” He slows his fingers, helping you ride out your high on his fingers. You feel so much more wet than before, and it takes every ounce of control Chan has to not dive back in and overstimulate you, drive you to another one. And another one. Until you’re spent and begging for him to stop, yet pushing him closer to continue.
Next time.
He moves up your body, and kisses you again. You let out a whine when you taste yourself on his tongue, your own essence covering your chin from his own as he licks into your mouth. You use your legs to redirect him, so his clothed cock lines up with your dripping pussy as he grinds his hips down against you. You shiver, still sensitive from just a second ago. “I want you,” you whisper. He pulls away, looking at you with widened eyes.
“Are you sure?” He asks. “Cause if you’re actually not ready, tell me. I’ll wait for you.”
“I’ve waited for you long enough,” you answer, rutting your hips up against him. He sucks in a breath. “Please?”
Chan only nods as he climbs off you to discard his clothes to the floor. The bruising on his side hasn’t fully gone away, but it’s not as bad as it was last week. “Was that from your fall?” You ask him as he climbs over you again, your delicate fingers ghosting over his ribcage.
“Uh, yeah,” he said, looking down at your hand. “I didn’t actually fall, though. I got hit by a car.”
“I know.”
Chan gives you a double take, eyebrows scrunched and his mouth agape in confusion. You giggle and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You know?”
“Yeah, I was with Changbin and Jisung when he got the call,” you respond, still giggling. “I just figured you said you fell to not worry me.”
Yeah, we can go with that. Really I was just saving you the embarrassment. Who gets hit by cars these days?
Don’t ruin this, Cato.
Chan only chuckles softly, his smile widening and crinkling his eyes in such a pretty way. You can’t help but lean up and press your lips to his, your hands cupping his cheeks to bring his face down with yours. He kisses you back quickly, letting you take the lead as he opens your legs and maneuvers himself so his cock can glide along your slit. You lift your legs more, letting the head of his cock catch along your entrance. “Please,” you whisper against his mouth. “I’m ready.”
Chan moves a hand down to guide the tip of his cock into your entrance, and he goes slow as he sheathes himself inside. You tense up, the pressure a foreign feeling. “Relax,” he whispers, kissing along your cheek and down your jaw. A small whine leaves your mouth and he stills his hips immediately. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt it just… feels full.”
“Yeah?” He asks, letting himself move again. One his hips are touching yours, you can fully feel him snugly inside you. You feel so full, and it’s so overwhelming but so addictive at the same time. It feels as if you were molded to fit him. He gives an experimental movement, and your hands immediately go to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “You okay?”
“Yeah. You can move.” He kisses you, distracting you as he pulls out and then plunges back in again. He keeps it at a slow rhythm at first, letting you get used to the feeling before he gradually starts speeding up. You were so tight around him, your velvety walls welcoming him in with each time the head of his cock ghosts along that spongy part that has the breath punched out of you again and again.
“You feel so good, angel,” he grunts against your neck. “Like you were made for me.” You can only choke out a moan in response, nails raking over his shoulders. He intertwines his fingers with yours above your head, and he digs his face further into your neck as he places wet kisses along it.
Cato intertwined his fingers with Eve’s as he slowly moved his hips. “You’re mine?” Cato asked.
“Yours. I’m yours,” Eve gasped in response.“I love you.” Cato can only smile as he dips his head down to capture her lips in a messy kiss.
Chan keeps a steady pace, making sure to angle himself upwards when he thrusts back in. He hits deep, stretching you around his cock and every time he’s at the hilt, it knocks the wind out of your lungs. The breathy moans you let out at each thrust sends Chan deeper and deeper into the clouds, mind hazy and senses full of you. You’re everywhere, it seems, encasing his body in yours as the whole world melts away. He about loses his hold on himself when your quivering walls start clenching around him, greedily sucking him back in. His thrusts speed up, his one hand letting go of yours and finding home under your head, a fist full of hair as he brings your body as close to his as possible. The feel of your breasts pressing against his chest grounds him a bit, and he lets out a strained moan from the back of his throat.
“Cum in me,” you manage to say in between strangled sounds. “I want it, please.”
“Just a little more,” Chan grunts out. “Almost there. Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so good for me, angel.”
Chan’s hips still, his cum shooting into you and painting your walls. He moans, whiney, as he shoves his face back into your neck. Your hands move to his hair, raking through it as you whisper in his ear.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
—
You spend the night at Chan’s house, only sending a simple message to your group chat with Hyunjin, Minho, and Felix where you were staying and that you were okay. Your simple message respectively blows up the group chat, with Felix and Hyunjin practically screaming to tell them details, and then Minho crashing into your world like a meteor with one single question.
Did you break up with Seojun?
You decided not to answer that question (because you haven’t), only texting back that you’ll explain when you get back to class on Friday and then shakily put your phone down on the coffee table. You look over towards the kitchen to see Chan’s back towards you, the sizzling of the food in the pan the only sound filling the apartment. You can’t help but smile at the sight. You uncross your legs from the couch, walking into the kitchen area and standing behind Chan. Your arms wrap lovingly around his waist, your cheek pressing into his back and you feel his body relax into your hold. He turns down the stove and turns around in your hold, a smile adorning his features as he places a kiss against your lips.
“Thanks for letting me stay last night,” you say as he pulls away from you. “I didn’t want to face Ryujin’s interrogation yet.”
“Well, now you’re gonna have to face mine,” Chan says, raising his eyebrow at you. You smile sheepishly at him, your gaze tearing away from his. He lifts your chin up, forcing you to keep eye contact. “What happened?”
You sigh, pulling your body away. You run your hand over your face as you lean against the counter behind you. Chan does the same on the opposite side, giving you an expectant look as he waits for you to start talking. “I found out Seojun was cheating on me. At the dinner.” You say, voice a little shaky.
Chan pauses, and his stomach drops. Seojun was cheating?
Don’t act as if you aren’t happy to hear that.
I’m not happy! That’s awful!
You know what I mean, you idiot. You’re happy he’s out of the way now.
Chan doesn’t respond to Cato, focusing his attention back to you. “I’m so sorry, y/n,” he responds, his arm stretching over to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t deserve that.”
You take in a breath. “Yeah, well,” you shrug. “It happens. Sad thing is, I can’t even say I’m surprised. Looking back, it makes a lot of sense.”
Chan’s eyebrow furrows. “Did… you break up with him?”
Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “I… haven’t yet.”
And you slept with her.
“You… You haven’t?” He asks, confusion painting across his face. “Why?”
“I— I was going to,” you start. “I just… I wanted to see you first,”
“y/n,” Chan says, voice shaky. “Am I a rebound?”
You shake your head vigorously, your own eyes shining with unshed tears. “No! No, I really wasn’t planning on last night happening at all. I wanted to break up with him first but I just… I don’t know, I had to see you first.”
“Did you mean what you said?” He asks. “About wanting to be with me as long as you said?”
“Yes,” you nod. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask Hyunjin or Felix. Even Minho. They know how I feel about you.”
Chan’s quiet. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know what to think. On one hand, the selfish hand, he’s over the moon he had you in his bed last night, and he’s still a bit drunk off your words from last night. But, on the other hand, he wants to send you on your way, to give himself, and you, some space. He can’t believe he didn’t prod further about what you meant last night. He just assumed by your confession, you had already broken it off with Seojun.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I should probably go.”
“Call me when you break it off with Seojun, okay?” Chan finally says, nodding his head. His heart clenches as he sees a tear fall down your face. “We’ll talk about us after that.”
The silence that replaces the apartment after you leave is deafening.
Chan?
“Not now, Cato,” Chan replies, shaking his head. He can feel a migraine coming on, his eyes becoming sore and sensitive to the bright lights of his kitchen. “Shit,” a pained whimper falls from his throat as he massages his eyes. “I think I need to call someone.”
I remember why I came to Earth.
“Can it wait until later, please?” Chan winces, annoyance mixing with the pain in his voice. “My head is fucking splitting.”
Chan…
“Cato, for fucks sake, please!” He yells, which makes his head pound even more. “I can’t figure out your problem right now.”
Cato doesn’t respond.
Chan calls Minho, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best idea, but he knew Jisung and Changbin would be loud and dramatic and he really didn’t want that right now. Minho is quiet, and he knows what to do when Chan is under the weather.
The younger male is quick to arrive, immediately shoving pain pills into Chan’s hand and ordering him to take them. “Were you making something?” Minho asks as he points to the pan.
“Oh, yeah,” Chan said from the couch. His head feels as if it can explode. “I was making y/n and I breakfast when—” he stops himself, looking over through his lashes at the other man.
“I already know,” Minho says. “So, where is she?”
“Uh, well,” Chan starts, having to take a second to will away the urge to vomit. “I slept with her…”
“And?”
“She never broke up with Seojun before we did.” Minho sighs, shaking his head as he joins the brunette on the couch.
“I told her she needed to do that first,” Minho responds. “She’s just as impulsive as Han Jisung. Worse than Han Jisung, actually.”
Chan wants to chuckle, but his head is somehow getting worse. His body starts aching again, as if the bruises are coming back. And suddenly it hurts to breathe. “Min,” he grunts out. “Min, I think we need to go to the hospital.”
“What’s wrong?”
Chan?
I feel like I’m fucking dying again.
Chan collapses to the floor, and when Minho slides down with him does he notice the blood pooling and staining the rug underneath the older man’s head. “Fuck. Fuck, okay. Hold on, hyung. I’m calling for help.”
Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on Chan’s body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in his living room. He starts to panic, lungs starting to work overtime as Minho calls the emergency hotline from somewhere in the room.
Cato, what’s going on?
Your… Your injuries are coming back.
A white, blinding light floods Chan’s vision from the ceiling, and he feels a pull from the light.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Cato?
I’m getting taken back, Chan.
Cato! Don’t leave me!
The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. He feels like a layer of his skin is being peeled away as the pressure in his head worsens, and Cato’s voice gets farther and farther away.
“Ca—” Chan tries to call out to him, but he passes out before he could.
I’m dying.
________________
❝took my breath from my open mouth, never known how it broke me down.❞
Cato and Eve snuck around under Adam’s nose after that fateful morning in the garden. Always meeting at the spot where they first met, making love to the song of the stream whenever they could. It felt different with Cato. It felt… good. Like lying with this man wasn’t a chore, but something she felt was their way of bonding. Connecting. She didn’t give a damn what God said.
She was not made for Adam. She and the god, Cato, were weaved from the same essence that brought them life — a single soul split into two different beings. And by lying with him, it strengthened that. She was his, as he was hers.
Cato was such a gentle lover, compared to Adam (if you could even call Adam a lover). Cato took her into his arms and worshiped her body as if she was a Goddess herself. The way his fingers indented her skin on her hips when his head was in between her thighs, lapping at her nectar, had her seeing stars. She found God in a lover, and the forbidden fruit tasted so sweet on her tongue.
Eve was happy.
That happiness didn't last long, though. And she was foolish to think it would.
She swore Adam went out to hunt that day, she saw him off. So, how he managed to find Eve at the stream hanging off a cock that wasn’t his, she’ll never know.
Adam told God right away.
Cato was ripped from her before she could even get to her knees. Before she could beg. She watched as a bright light encased Cato’s earthly body from the heavens, the light so blinding she’s forced to look to the ground if she still wished to keep her sight. She wailed that day, a mantra of inhuman, throat curdling sounds ripped from deep within her core as she punched her fists into the soil.
“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” She howled. Adam stood behind her, face stoic as he watched Eve mourn the loss of her lover.
“It’s what you deserve,” Adam spits. “You’re lucky I’m gracious enough to let you live. Your pretty face would be one with stone if I was anyone else.”
Eve’s crying stopped then. The garden of Eden was silent, not even the stream was brave enough to sing. Everything was dead still, a simmering animosity burned brightly just under the surface of Eve’s plush skin. Adam’s stoicism fell as he caught the look on his wife’s face.
It was that of pure, unadulterated rage.
“I should have strung you up to that tree when I had the chance.” The venom drips from her words and poisons Adam’s veins the second they hit him.
—
“You weren’t supposed to tempt Eve,” God’s commanding voice boomed across the heavens. Cato sat on his knees, wrists and ankles chained to the marble ground. Different god’s sat around, watching the serpent intently, curious as to what was to happen to him. “You weren’t even supposed to make yourself known to her.”
“I told you why I was going to Earth,” Cato responded, voice tired. “I told you I fell for someone.”
“And that person was not supposed to be Eve!” Thunder cracked angrily across the sky. Murmurs erupted among the other gods. “You have tainted her, driven her off her path to her purpose.”
“Her purpose?” Cato repeated, indignant. “Her purpose is to be a breeding cow for a man who can’t even bother to see her as his equal?”
“And you were equals?” God laughed, a bellowing, boom laugh at the lesser god’s foolishness. “You’re a god, Cato. A heavenly entity that simple mortals can barely fathom the concept of. And you think Eve and you are equals?”
“I love her.”
Whispers of “love her?” echo through the chamber.
“She’s not yours to love!” God’s angry voice silenced the whispers, a tense stillness crushing Cato and pressing on his lungs. “You know I have to punish you.”
“Punish me all you wish,” Cato spat. “It will never deter how I feel for Eve.”
“Oh, my sweet child, it will.”
—
Cato wakes to cold biting at his skin. It’s so cold, so so cold. His eyes open to gray skies and heavy snow sprinkling along his cheeks. Snow covered trees line the horizon of his bleary vision, head pounding and body aching. He moves his fingers, feeling under the layer of snow and making way to the dead grass underneath.
He’s on Earth.
He tries to sit up, but his chest is burning and he’s having a hard time moving his arms. He feels like his body is being held down by a cinder block, unable to move himself from his spot.
“General Bang!” A voice shouts, muffled. He moves his head to find the voice, but a face comes into his line of vision as he looks right. “General Bang! You’re badly injured, don’t move. Wagon! I need a wagon!”
“What happened?” Cato whispers out, and the man grabs one of his hands from the snow. “Who are you?”
“It’s Hwang!” the man yells. “Hwang Hyunjin, do you remember?”
Cato wasn't able to respond as his eyes fell heavy and then closed.
When he awakes again, he is in a tent. He shoots up in a panic, looking around the space. A sharp pain shoots through his chest, making him groan and his elbows give out. “Hey, easy,” the same man says as he helps Cato lay back down. Hyunjin. His long black hair is tied up out of his face, a look of relief washing over it as he settles back down in the chair next to Cato’s cot. “You got a pretty nasty gash across your chest. It’s a miracle you didn’t die out there, Chan.”
“What do you mean?” He asks.
“I mean a dozen other men died from the same wound,” Hyunjin responds. “Your guardian angel is really looking out for you.”
“What happened?”
“Did you hit your head? We’re in a war,” Hyunjin responds, his eyebrows furrowed. “This was the most brutal battle we’ve fought in three years. How hard did you hit your head?”
Chan’s memories of the past couple years flash in Cato’s mind – like a short synopsis of what his vessel has been up to before he took over. Cato realizes that at that moment, Chan was dead. Cato was the sole entity keeping this body alive.
But why?
“Pretty hard, I guess,” Cato chuckles in response. “Does that mean… we won?”
“You bet your ass we did,” a smirk spreads across the male’s mouth. “We lost a lot of good men out there, though. Not looking forward to letting their wives know they’re widows now,” Cato nods his head, his gaze flitting around the ceiling of the medical tent. Hyunjin nudges his arm again, a grin on his face. “Are you gonna go back to y/n?”
A pulse shoots throughout his entire body at the mention of your name, a sinking feeling in his stomach that’s accompanied by the racing of his heart. He only shrugs. “If she’ll have me.”
“I don’t think she’d have anyone else.”
—
The war ends, and the troops all come back home. And Cato finds himself in front of a beautiful castle. Memories of Chan courting you for years flash in his mind. He seemed to have really adored you. Cato feels a twinge in his heart at the thought that Chan will never be able to experience being with you.
But, to Cato, you give him an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Like he already knew you. Like he already knew your body, your soul, like the back of his hand. So, when he visits you after three long years, and you were already taken by another man, his heart shatters. For Chan, and for another unknown reason he doesn’t think he’s ready to explore.
He still walks with you in the garden that day. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”
“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”
Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”
“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling.
“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.
He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”
“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”
“I am sorry, y/n.”
“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”
Cato doesn’t respond, only letting his eyes flicker around your face, sadness overtaking his gaze. You both stare at one another, so close to each other. It’s quiet, between you two. Not tense, but not comfortable either.
His eyes widen in shock when you lean up to kiss his lips. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back, letting his hands cup your cheeks. You pull away after a second though, tears pulling into your eyes. “I’m sorry, I just… needed to know what it felt like to kiss you.”
You turn and walk away, leaving him alone in the garden with the taste of you still on his lips.
Cato is sentenced to live a life next to the reincarnation of Eve, always at his fingertips but never having the right to have her. Chan’s soul was with him for every single one. Each life is a punishment, a test. Each time he gives into his temptation of having Eve to himself, of dancing along that line with her, he is ripped from his mortal body and Chan’s own soul is torn with him.
Chan dies every time.
Again. And again. And again. And again. For millennia, Cato is subjected to always losing Eve in the most brutal of ways just as he finally thinks he has her for himself. As soon as he lies with her, he is forced to leave her soon after.
He can never escape it.
________________
❝i won’t die for love, but ever since i met you, you could have my heart and I would break it for you.❞
Cato sits on his knees in a desolate chamber. It’s deathly still, and eerily silent. The only sound is his breathing – which is slowed. His wrists, bound in enchanted steel cuffs, sit chained to the ground in front of where he sits on his knees. His hair lays on his shoulders, dirty and knotted. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here — it could be months. It could be centuries.
He doesn’t think he cares anymore.
Chan is dead. He has to be. There’s no way he managed to survive the way Cato was ripped out of him like that. He hasn’t survived it in any of the lifetimes Cato spent using his body.
It was cruel — the way Cato and Chan are subjected to this, lifetime after lifetime, a never ending cycle of Chan losing his life before he can even turn thirty all because Cato fell for someone he had no business falling for. He grimaces to himself, shaking his head in defeat as he remembers the way Chan was crying out for him when he was ripped from his subconsciousness.
“When are you ever going to learn?” A voice echoes in the chamber. God.
“I do not wish to speak of this.” Cato snaps.
“Don’t you wish to see how Chan is doing?” God asks, snapping his fingers. A gateway to Earth opens under Cato, and he watches in horror as medics work on his dying body in the middle of his living room floor. “He’s still holding on. For now.”
Cato looks away, clamping his eyes shut. He couldn’t bear to see Chan like that. Not when he knows he’s the cause of it.
Chan is going to die. Again.
“Please,” Cato whispers. “Please, kill me.”
“Kill you?” God repeats.
“Yes, fuck!” Cato spits, his shout echoing deafeningly throughout the empty chambers. The silence that refills the space is enough for the god to break, sobs racking through his body from where he is chained. “I can’t do this anymore. Let Chan live, and let me die. Please.”
God does not respond, only watching as the calamity god wails, a mixture of snot and tears pooling on the concrete from under them. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “Is that what you truly want?”
Cato can only nod his head. “Chan’s life, for my mortality,” he responds, still crying. “I can’t keep watching him die.”
“You know that means he might not be reincarnated,” God says. “The only reason Chan is a living soul on earth was for you to use him as your vessel. He’s not needed after that.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Cato shakes his head. “That’s a better outcome than having to die before twenty six every single time.”
“How do you wish to go?”
“Like Icarus,” he doesn’t hesitate to respond. “I will fling myself into the sun.”
________________
Walking away from Chan has to be the hardest thing you’ve done.
You genuinely weren’t planning on sleeping with him the night before. You don’t know what took over you. It just happened. That’s not to say you regret it, though. Because you don’t. While you’ve never slept with someone before, laying underneath Chan felt so… right. Even if it is wrong from a moral standpoint. But, it felt otherworldly. Not just because the sex was good, but you felt as if it was meant to happen. You and Chan were meant to happen. As cliche as it is, and you cringe thinking of it, you wholeheartedly believe you and Chan were written in the stars, destined to find each other in this life. And the next. Nothing has felt more clear than being with him, and you use that as courage to knock on Seojun’s door.
When he opens it, he’s still in his sleep clothes. “Did I wake you?” You ask, voice and face void of any emotion.
“Kinda,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “What’s up?”
“I just came to say that I know you’re cheating on me,” you start. His eyes widen in quick panic, and he’s about to respond when you put your hand up to stop him as you shake your head. “I just want to tell you that we’re even. And it’s over.”
“You cheated on me?” Seojun repeats, indignation in his voice. “You fucking whore!”
“Yeah, save it, Seojun,” You scoff, shaking your head. “I already know about Aecha so you have no room to take a moral fucking high ground. Just nod and say okay and shut the door with what little dignity you have still intact.”
“Y/n?” A voice echoes from behind Seojun. His mother walks up behind him, a cup in her hand. Her eyebrows are furrowed. “Did you just say you cheated on my son? Do your parents know what you did?”
“I also said he cheated, too, so,” you shrug. Her mouth drops open, her face scrunching up in anger. It looks as if she’s about to scream at you before you continue, “I’ll leave your stuff with Aecha.”
You don’t let either of them speak as you turn around and walk down the stairs and out onto the street. You pull out your phone, about to call Chan and let him know you’re on your way back when Felix’s contact name pops up on your screen. You slide to answer, placing the phone against your ear. “I know what you’re gonna say, but I just broke up with Seojun and I’m–”
“You need to get to the hospital right now, y’n,” Felix cuts you off, his voice shaking. “Chan had an accident, and he might not make it.”
Your phone falls from your hand.
________________
God’s of all origins gather around in the chambers to witness Cato’s execution. Everyone is whispering anxiously amongst one another. One deity stands silent, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at where Cato is chained intently. His heart is heavy, having to watch his dearest friend kill himself in the worst way possible.
“Have you spoken to him yet, Apollo?” Artemis asks as she walks up behind him. “I’m sure he would love to see you one more time.”
“What am I to even say?” Apollo asks. “Nothing I say will change his mind, you know how stubborn he is, that bastard.”
“It still must hurt,” Artemis responds. “You’ve been in love with him since the day he was created. I know it must kill you to see the torture he’s gone through.”
“There is nothing I can do about it,” Apollo shakes his head. “I love him, but it hurts more to see him be thrown back to earth again and again. It’s better this way.”
“He will live on in your heart,” his sister assures, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But you don’t have to put yourself through the torture of seeing this.”
“After a millennia of divine punishment, Cato, god of calamity, has decided to take his life,” God’s booming voice echoes through the chamber, silencing everyone in an instant. “He will join Icarus in the deep sea below.”
Hushed whispers resound once again through the chambers, all of them having remembered watching the man’s wax wings melt from the flaming star and plummeting to his death in the never ending, and unforgiving seas.
Cato does not look up at anyone, not even to God himself. He does not speak, nor does he try to beg for forgiveness. He’s tired. He’s so tired.
God stands next to him, a hand on his shoulder as two angels unlock the shackles from his wrists and ankles. “Chan will wake up once you have hit the seas. You have my word.” Cato only nods in response.
And as he launches himself towards the sun, the burning heat of it burning at his skin and singing his feathered wings, he wails. He wails and screams, mourning his love for Eve and the time he’s spent being tortured with her almost in his grasp. Truly, he thinks death is better than being without her. The sun dries his tears, and it brings him a dark sense of comfort. And when his wings are all but ash, and he’s falling into awaiting waters, he smiles.
Apollo cries quietly as the god’s body is swallowed by the dark blue seas.
a/n: helloo, it's been a while and i missed writing these silly lil reactions. i used this prompt for another fandom years ago and while i was looking for something to write i was like YOU KNOW WHAT it'd be so much fun to write skz's reaction to this lol. i hope you guys enjoy and if you do please let me know! (also i want you all to picture han's scream in get lit for his slide bye)
୧ ‧₊🎧 let me in your ocean, swim
bangchan x producer!reader
summary:
“Chan, you’re an idiot,” Changbin sighs and Chan whips around.
“What did I do now?!” he asks, trying to give his voice a joking edge but failing miserably.
“She’s so into you, and you don’t even see it,” Changbin states grandly, like it’s the most glaringly obvious thing in the world. Jisung huffs out a giggle next to him, but nods.
-> In which Chan is a little self-conscious and a lot clueless, Changbin is his therapist and his wingman, and you get really sick of waiting for Chan to get his shit together.
word count: 9.9k words
author's note: a little self-indulgent producer!reader bang chan fic because I too wanna make him feel safe and confident and I think the studio is where he would feel like that. I know I do, too, because fun fact I used to want to be a producer but then i studied music journalism and then life happened and here I am. anyways, enjoy!!!!
warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it & pee after sex, guys); oral & throatfucking (m & f receiving); fingering (f receiving); only a tiny bit of choking; only the slightest d/s dynamics; cursing because it's channie; mentions of other idols I don't know anything about so don't lynch me if something doesn't work ok soz
skzms' masterlist
“Okay, hear me out, what if the 808 did a dum dum d-dum at the end of this bar?”
Chan hums, fingers flying over the keyboard, mouse dragging the notes around. When he’s done and hits play again, the verse burst through the speakers. It sounds good, better even.
This was your job. Producing, mixing and editing music. You had replaced their previous guy about a year ago, breezing into the studio on day one, so pretty it had taken Chan’s breath away, and had given them firm handshakes and a huge smile, before taking control of the room and the computer with such professionalism that it made his knees weak. The three of them spent a solid day scuffing their feet into the floor like boys on the first day of school before they finally managed to relax. Now, not a week went by without Jisung jokingly referring to your joint studio sessions as “4racha time”.
“I like that,” he hums when he presses pause, and you clap excitedly, bouncing up and down on your chair a little. When he rests his chin in his hand, he realises he’s smiling.
“I love it, it even creates a little syncopation with the vocals there. It’s catchy,” you gush before swivelling around on your chair, turning to where Jisung and Changbin are lounging on the sofa.
Changbin and Jisung were usually less involved with this specific part of the work – this part being the painstaking adjustment of the mix, the addition of details, last-minute changes to the music. They didn’t have the patience for it, so they usually took the time to scroll through TikTok or doze while you and Chan sat there for hours, clicking, replaying, looping, adjusting the EQ.
Chan loved this kind of work. Loved that he could let himself sink into your proverbial professional hands, let you guide him from song to song, not letting him get hung up on something for too long, always solid and calm and confident. It was soothing. Here, he didn’t have to be anything, be anyone. He just had to do what he did best. It felt better than being shoved into clothes and smouldering at the camera ever could. Not that the minded that part of the job, but this was the part he loved.
“I agree, that little syncopation sounds really good with Jisung’s vocals,” Changbin agrees, running his hand through his black curls and giving you an exaggerated thumbs up.
You give him a smile before turning to Jisung.
“Jisung?”
Jisung looks up from his phone blearily and blinks at you.
“Sorry, can you play it again?”
Chan huffs out a laugh and restarts the verse, letting it play until the end, where it leads into the pre-chorus. Jisung purses his lips and finally nods with an approving smile.
Chan can basically taste the satisfaction rolling off you. Your energy was always like that; like a current running through the studio, one that he gladly let sweep him up, letting it carry him along and through so many long days and nights.
He doesn’t realise you turned back to him until he hears your voice. When he turns his head, you’re looking at him expectantly.
“So we keep it?” you ask, and Chan watches your eyes race over his face to try to gauge his reaction.
“We all just agreed,” he chuckles out awkwardly and he can feel his ears starting to burn. Great. You’re still grinning when you roll your eyes at him and shrug.
“Yeah, but you only said you liked it, plus, you have the final say,” you say calmly and Chan blinks at the screen dumbly, his cheeks flaring up more, before he finally turns to you.
“I’m pretty sure JYP doesn’t pay you to listen to us,” he quips and raises a playful eyebrow at you. He hopes you can’t hear that he kind of means it.
You glare back at him, but your lips are still curled into a smile.
“JYP pays me to make your music great – and to do that I will listen to whoever I think is really good at what they do,” you say and give him a wink that makes his ears burn more.
“So … keep?” you ask again and this time Chan just nods and you mumble a quiet nice, scooting your chair closer to him. When you take the mouse from him, your fingertips trail over the back of his hand and it sends goosebumps racing down his arm.
When you get up to leave an hour later, much earlier than usual, you rest a hand on Chan’s shoulder as you chat with Changbin. He tells himself that it’s normal, that you’re friends, that he shouldn’t be overthinking about how comfortable you must be with him to do this so absentmindedly. He also has to tell himself to keep breathing normally.
“Why are you leaving already?” Jisung asks with a yawn, “we all know Channie-hyung gets nothing done when you’re not here.”
Chan half turns and gives Jisung a glare, but Jisung just grins at him.
You chuckle and shift your weight, your hand falling from Chan’s shoulder. He feels the absence of it way too keenly.
“I gotta be back here tomorrow at 10 with Gunil and the boys,” you shrug and hoist your bag further up your shoulder.
“From Xdinary Heroes?” Changbin asks and you nod, “I didn’t know you started working with them.”
Right. Sometimes Chan forgets you’re not just here when they are. You work with other groups.
“Started at their last comeback. They’re the exact opposite of you, funnily enough,” you chuckle, “they always wanna come in first thing in the morning.”
Do you work with them the same way? The other boys are too young, but do you joke with Gunil the same way you joke with Chan? Do you rest your hand on his shoulder before you leave? Chan furrows his brows and keeps clicking around ProTools aimlessly.
There’s a lull in the conversation.
“Well, I’ll be going,” you announce before your hand comes back to Chan’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly, “don’t work too late. Same time tomorrow?”
Chan doesn’t trust himself to look at you, so he just nods, and waits until Jisung hums out an affirmative. Your hand disappears, the door opens and shuts, and your footsteps echo down the hallway. He finally lets out the breath he’s been holding.
“Chan, you’re an idiot,” Changbin sighs and Chan whips around.
“What did I do now?!” he asks, trying to give his voice a joking edge but failing miserably.
“She’s so into you and you don’t even see it,” Changbin states grandly, like it’s the most glaringly obvious thing in the world. Jisung huffs out a giggle next to him, but nods.
Chan shakes his head jerkily, crossing his arms over his chest.
“She treats me the same way she treats you guys,” he denies, though his heart clenches uncomfortably in his chest.
Jisung properly laughs at that.
“Channie-hyung, she touched your shoulder twice. For, like, literally no reason. Also, she keeps staring at you when you’re not looking. Just watches you click around. It’s really cute.”
Chan can feel a single tendril of hope lick up his spine. Changbin seems to see it in his eyes.
“You’re clearly into her as well,” he states, and Chan makes a non-committal sound that half sounds like a negation. Changbin’s brows furrow. “You go stupid every time she smiles at you. You comment on her outfit, you bring her coffee, sometimes you drive her home. You always agree when she makes a suggestion.”
Anger flares in Chan’s gut.
“She makes good suggestions! She’s a really good fucking producer!” he can tell he’s almost yelling and he clears his throat. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
“She is,” Changbin says with a little smile, “She’s a really good producer, she’s super hot, and she’s into you.”
The words make Chan nearly sick with promise, but there’s a whisper in the back of his head that keeps him from believing Changbin fully. Surely, it wouldn’t be him. The mental image of you flirting with Gunil makes him flinch.
“It wouldn’t work anyways,” he mumbles, turning back to the computer, “plus, maybe she’s the same way with Gunil. He’s definitely the hotter choice.”
“I’m pretty sure Gunil’s gay,” Jisung muses. Chan just glares at the screen.
“Well, if it’s not Gunil, then it’s one of the other 20 idols she works with. Or literally anyone else.”
He hears how pathetic he sounds and he’s glad he can avoid Changbin’s prying eyes. But, predictably, Changbin doesn’t leave him alone. He gets up and plops down into the chair you only recently abandoned and leans forward, his elbows on his knees.
“Chan, you need to stop talking about yourself like that,” he says intently, and Chan almost feels bad. Changbin’s right, he should stop talking about himself like that. But it still wouldn’t change the fact that that’s what he thinks about himself. What a lot of people think about him, for that matter.
He doesn’t respond, just saves the project for the 12th time in the last five minutes. He can’t forget to fix that snare, like you said.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Changbin throw a look towards Jisung, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. They’ve been here before. Changbin lets it go and gets up.
“Let’s go home, get an early night for once,” he suggests and Chan looks up at him, “you know Jisung’s right, you get nothing done when Y/N’s not here.”
Chan waves him off.
“I’ll stick around for a while, I wanna figure out the bridge on the last track.”
They leave, begrudgingly. Chan sticks around until 3 in the morning, until his eyes are burning and he’s halfway convinced himself that Jisung’s wrong and you’re hooking up with Gunil. The bridge sounds worse now, so he reverts the project back to where it was when Changbin and Jisung left and goes home.
It’s no surprise that he sleeps like shit. He wakes up and drags himself through dance practice, Minho giving him worried glares every now and again. He nearly falls asleep in the shower after.
When he opens the door to the studio at 7.30pm and is welcomed by the smell of leather and technology, the whirring of the computers and the eery soundlessness of the padding – it’s like coming
He drops his bag on the floor and lets himself fall into his chair with a sigh. He leans back all the way, his muscles slowly relaxing, legs stretching out in front of him deliciously. Maybe he can rest his eyes, just for five minutes, until Changbin and Jisung get here …
He must’ve nodded off pretty quickly because he’s awoken by a gentle pressure on his arm and a soft voice saying his name and he hums, still half in his dream, before he flutters his eyes open.
You’re leaning over him with the gentlest look in your eyes and a soft smile on your lips, and for a second, he thinks he’s still dreaming, but then he realises where he is and that he fell asleep in the chair and that you just found him.
He blinks the sleep from his eyes and you lean back, pulling your hand back in the process. God, he hates when you pull your hand back. But you’re still smiling at him, which makes him feel a little better.
“Long day?” you ask, and Chan sits up slowly, blearily blinking the sleep from his eyes. You fall into your chair and pull out your iPad. He turns to you and nods.
“Didn’t sleep much last night,” he mumbles, his shoulder cracking loudly when he stretches his arms behind his back. He thinks he sees your eyes flutter down to where his t-shirt rides up, but he tells himself to stop projecting.
“Did you stay late again?” you scold gently, and he shrugs apologetically.
“Tried to fix the bridge,” he explains, and you nod.
“God, that bridge,” you mumble, “how did it go?”
Chan just shakes his head.
“Nothing worked, it’s still the same,” he admits and averts his eyes. He half expects you to be disappointed in him, which he doesn’t want to see. Or maybe you’ll make a joke about what Jisung said last night, that he wouldn’t get anything done without you. But you just shrug.
“There are those days,” you say and pat his arm gently. Right, he thinks, you wouldn’t make him feel bad about things. You never do. He can’t think about it too long, so he changes the subject.
“How did it go with Gunil today?” he asks and he hopes he sounds neutral, despite the hours and hours last night that he had imagined you flirting with the guy.
You look at him briefly and then you shrug.
“It went well,” you reply, “they’re really professional and Gunil always has great input. Also, I get to record actual instruments, so that’s always fun. I don’t get to do that often.”
Chan just nods, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, and turns back to the screen. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His brain chants. Say something.
“That’s … nice,” he offers and grimaces immediately. That was the most awkward thing he could’ve said. You watch him carefully and it feels like your gaze is burning holes into his soul.
He’s saved by his phone buzzing, Changbin’s name lighting up the screen. Right, Changbin and Jisung. They’re meant to be here by now.
8.15pm Changbin
hey man, jisung and I can’t make it to the studio tonight
send Y/N our love
you should make the most of tonight
Chan blinks at his phone stupidly. He has all their calendars. He saw them earlier. There is no reason why they wouldn’t be able to …
Ah. They’re setting him up. Great. Fantastic. Annoyance flares up deep in his gut. He’s not in the mood for his meddling members.
He does his best to shake off his frustration before he looks up at you and oh dammit, fuck, you’re so pretty. It doesn’t happen often that he gets you all to himself for a whole evening. It’s making his heartbeat flutter in his chest.
“Jisung and Changbin can’t make it tonight,” he announces and you turn around, surprise written all over your features.
“Really?! I thought I saw them in the cafeteria earlier.”
Chan curses Changbin out in his head.
“Yeah, something just came up, very spontaneous,” Chan explains and you shrug.
“Oh well, this more our work anyways, isn’t it,” you say, smiling at him in a way that Chan can’t quite read. You turn to the screen and double-click on the song with the cursed bridge.
Our work, it reverberates through Chan’s head.
For the next two hours, Chan doesn’t focus on work. He can’t. He’s too busy wondering if he’s going insane or if you’re sitting closer to him than usual. But he so clearly feels your thigh resting against his knee, feels your jeans rub against his sweats with every one of your movements.
You’re finally finished with one of the tracks and you lean back, lifting your hands up in celebration with a yawn. Chan can’t keep his eyes away from your thighs, how they’re squished together on the seat of your chair, running up into your waist, the barest sliver of skin visible …
“You don’t have many parts in this one,” you state and his eyes snap up to your face, but you’re not looking at him, instead pursing your lips at the project that’s still open on the screen. “Like, you only have half a chorus and some ad-libs.”
Chan shrugs. Of course, of all the people, you would notice.
“Oh, you know,” he starts, burying his fists in the pocket of his sweatshirt. He should really start dressing nicer for the studio, he looks like a slob next to you in your nice tight jeans and sweet, soft sweaters. Fuck, he wants to run his hands underneath those sweaters every damn time. Stop, Chan. Stop being weird.
“Why?” you ask, finally looking at him, cocking your head to the side. The look in your eyes reminds him a lot of Changbin’s and he bristles.
“Well, you know, Jisung sounds much better on the bridge. Minho had less parts last comeback and gets the centre” he tries to reason, but you keep looking at him, “plus, nobody wants to see that.”
Your eyebrows pull together.
“See what?”
“Me,” he says quietly, “Stay wants to see the boys, wants to see Hyunjin dance and hear Seungmin sing and Jisung rap.”
You’re staring at him now and he feels like an idiot. Fuck, why did he say that?
“You think they don’t want to see you?” you ask calmly, slowly and he nods and shrugs. You scoff and shake your head.
“You’re an idiot, Channie,” you say, your pretty face pulled into a scowl as you turn back to the screen. Ouch.
“Why does everyone keep calling me that?!” he snaps, his face darkening. “I’m doing my fucking best, okay?!”
He has never gotten angry at you, ever. But now his heart is thumping in his chest and he’s glaring at you. You look surprised for a second before the expression on your face sours.
“Exactly! You’re doing your best and you’re doing a great fucking job, but you keep saying you don’t.”
Your words confuse him. You look angry, but also something else he doesn’t understand. Clearly, you didn’t want silence because you get up, and shove your iPad into your bag.
“You’re an idiot because you’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. You’re an idiot because I like working with you the most because you’re so good at what you do and you’re so fucking kind and always pay attention to the people around you. You’re an idiot because you say people don’t want to see you when you’re literally sex on legs. And it’s not that you lack confidence, no, because you wouldn’t be here without it – you’re an idiot because everyone keeps trying to be nice to you and you pretend like you don’t deserve it. Well, guess what, you do.”
And without another word, you stomp out of the room.
The door slams behind you and Chan can feel his heartbeat in his ears. What?!
“She said what?!” Changbin squeaks out the next morning, in the hallway of their dorm, waiting for Hyunjin and Jisung.
Chan nods, running his hand through his hair nervously.
“Chan,” he just says, and Chan can see the disappointment in his face.
“Bin, if you call me an idiot, I swear to God I will punch you.”
Changbin scoffs.
“I won’t, but you know what you have to do now, right?”
Chan groans.
“No, I don’t know, actually. What am I even meant to say?”
Changbin sighs.
“She basically told you she likes you,” he says carefully and shushes Chan when Chan is about to interrupt him.
“Who told Chan she liked him?!” Hyunjin exclaims from behind Chan, and he lets his head fall back against the wall with a thud.
Changbin repeats everything Chan just told him, and Hyunjin excitedly grabs Chan’s arm.
“Dude, that is so romantic! It’s like a movie!” He gushes, staring at Chan with stars in his eyes, “she totally likes you.”
Chan wants to fucking cry because he wants to believe it so badly.
“Fine, let’s assume she does, which is still crazy to me,” he finally says and Changbin nods, “how on earth do I talk to her now? She’s angry with me!”
“Oh, Channie, she’s not angry,” Changbin says with a smile, “what you’ll do is you’ll go to the company and find out what her schedule is like today and then you will go get her a coffee and you will pick her up from her last session and …”
“And then you kiss her and tell her something really deep like ‘I want to deserve you’ and then you go home with her and make sweet love to her until the sun …”
“Hyunjin!” Chan all but shrieks, but Changbin giggles.
“Not the worst plan, to be honest,” he teases, and Chan presses the heels of his hands into his eyes until it hurts.
Jisung finally walks into the hallway with his hood over his head, blinking at them.
“What did I miss?”
Changbin laughs and turns to open the door.
“I’ll tell you in the car.”
Despite it all, Chan does listen to them. When they’re done with the music show recording and everyone goes home, he ignores Changbin’s eyebrow wiggle, gets into his own car and drives to the company – with a brief detour to his favourite café down the road.
As he walks up to the reception with your coffee in hand, he has a brief moment of panic and his steps falter. What if you’re not there any more. What if you already left. You’re meant to record vocals with them tomorrow afternoon. He can’t face you in front of everyone.
The receptionist looks up at him when he stops in front of her.
“Hi, I was just wondering, is Y/N still here?”
His voice sounds odd to him. The receptionist taps away at her keyboard.
“She is, she’s booked with Itzy for another hour. Studio 5.”
Chan nods, hoping that she can’t hear the nerves in his voice.
“Does she have anything else on her calendar today?”
The receptionist looks down and then shakes her head.
“No, that’s her last thing today. She’s back tomorrow at 3pm with you.”
Chan nods again, giving her a quiet thank you before he turns and makes his way to the elevator.
In. Out. In. Out. He can do this. If Hyunjin and Changbin both say you’re not mad at him, you’re probably not, right?
He walks up to Studio 5 and mercifully, the ‘recording’ sign above the door is off. Before he can chicken out, he raises his hand and knocks rapidly. There’s silence, then a distant, “come in”.
When he opens the door, he’s faced with 6 women staring at him; you at your desk, Yeji leaning against the desk next to you, the rest of her members scattered around the room. His face immediately flushes red-hot.
“Y/N,” he says quietly and you rapidly blink your eyes before you get up and walk over to where he’s rooted to the spot in the doorframe.
You stop in front of him, far too close to not be distracting.
“Chan?”
He takes a deep breath.
“I … uhh, I brought you coffee,” he says, awkwardly extending it to you. He can feel the eyes of the other girls burning holes into the side of his head. You take the coffee from him wordlessly. He tries to ignore the audience, tries to focus on your eyes. Oh, your damn eyes, so pretty and intelligent.
“And I thought, uhh, maybe, if you don’t mind, after you’re done, we could talk?”
You’re looking up at him, your face unreadable. You’re wearing new earrings today, he notices. They look pretty.
You watch his eyes rest on your ears and huff out a laugh when his gaze meets yours again. You shake your head, but you smile.
“Sure, I’d like that, but we still have at least an hour left.”
“I’ll wait,” Chan says, too fast and much too eager. “I’ll wait for you. In our studio, I’ll just get some work done.”
He won’t, he thinks. There’s no way.
You nod, your smile even softer now. So soft. Fuck.
“Okay,” you say and he smiles, too, unable to help it.
“Okay … I’ll uhh leave you to it, sorry, I’ll go, I’ll see you later,” he mutters out, bowing awkwardly at the rest of the girl group and closes the door behind him. Once he’s outside, he can hear silence and then loud squeals and chatter.
He doesn’t get any work done in the next hour, haphazardly clicking through his open projects until the door cracks open slightly.
He slams his laptop shut when you poke your head into the room, and you chuckle. He just smiles at you, so giddy with your smile, your presence, this feeling that something is about to change. He doesn’t say anything, just waits, lets you set the pace. He can be patient, he’d do anything for you.
“Wanna drive me home?” you ask and he nods, already shoving his laptop into his bag.
You’re quiet as you walk down the hallway, you’re quiet in the elevator, though you do lean against the wall right next to him, so close he can smell your perfume. He leads you into the garage and to his car and you punch your address into his phone. As if he hadn’t memorised the way there the third time he drove you home, almost 10 months ago.
You still haven’t said a single word when he pulls up in front of your house. Did he miss something? Were you waiting for him to talk? Your hand finds the door handle and you crack it open, though you look back at him and raise your eyebrows.
“I figured it would be nicer if we didn’t have this conversation in the car,” you say slowly and he blinks at you.
“Do you want me to–“
You laugh, a clear, shimmering sound.
“Yes, Chan, please come inside with me.”
He nods, his cheeks already on fire again, as he kills the engine and scrambles out of the car.
When you unlock your door, he realises he has driven you home countless times, but he has never actually seen your apartment. You push the door open and hold it for him, before toeing your shoes off. He does the same and follows you into the living room.
His first thought is that it’s cozy, so cozy he feels like an intruder, like a stranger that just walked into your head. The sofa looks worn and comfortable, full of throw pillows, a thick blanket bunched up next to your laptop. There are candles on the low table in front of it, most of them half burned down. He wonders if that’s where you sit when you work from home. Cozied up in the blanket, your laptop on your lap, the candles burning.
Behind the sofa there’s a large wooden dining table, half of it taken up by miscellaneous papers and magazines. All around the room there’s … music. Two electric guitars on one wall, a bass leaning against the side of a low storage cabinet that is bursting open, cables hanging onto the floor. There are records on the walls, records under your TV, your record player next to it.
“Do you want anything to drink?” you ask from the half open kitchen, and he looks over. You’re leaning over the half open fridge. “I have water, Diet Coke, beer, wine, or I can make you some coffee?”
“Geez, you have everything,” he hums out, brutally reminded of the yawning emptiness and ungodly mess of his dorms. Compared to that, this place seems calm, clean … mature.
Your laugh echoes back to him.
“Hardly. For example, I actually have no idea how long this wine has been open for.”
That makes him laugh as well, some of the tension melting from his bones.
“I’m good for now,” he says and you shrug, getting a bottle of water from the fridge and walking past him until you’re sat on the sofa, folding your legs underneath yourself.
He follows you, but suddenly gets distracted by a pile of bright pink books on the storage cabinet next to your table. No way.
“Are those …?” he asks, a disbelieving chuckle tumbling from his lips. You giggle and get up, rounding the sofa until you’re standing next to him.
“Your albums, yeah, the ones I worked on,” you explain with a smile. Now there’s a blush on your cheeks. “A couple of versions for good measure.”
Chan just chuckles again, shaking his head.
“I hope you at least got them for free from the company,” he mumbles and you just chuckle. He stares at the pile. They’re all there.
“And you’re displaying them in your living room?” he adds, voice full of wonder.
“Hey,” you argue sheepishly, “I’m proud of my work, of our work. And look, …”
You reach around him and pluck one of the albums from the pile. You’ve never been this close to him; your arm is pressed up against his chest, your hair within a few inches of his face. He’s staring at your hair, so close he’d just have to …
Then you hold up a small, shiny piece of cardboard, victory written all over your features.
“I even pulled you!”
It’s a photocard. Of him. Him, with smudged eyeliner, his bangs in his face, holding up a peace sign. You look up at him with the prettiest smile he’s ever seen.
His brain crashes and burns and his hand finds the back of your head and then he’s kissing you; pressing his lips to yours softly, but insistently, a deep sigh fighting its way out of his chest because God he’s wanted this for so, so long.
You make the cutest surprised noise in the back of your throat, but then you melt into his embrace, kissing him back eagerly, your hand wrapping around his wrist where he’s holding on to you, as if to keep him from letting go. When he pulls back, you make a sad little sound in the back of your throat and he swears you could ask him to do anything right then and there and he would do it.
He rests his forehead against yours softly. His breathing is laboured, eyes heavy.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, “probably should’ve asked before I did that.”
You chuckle, but still roll your eyes at him.
“I thought I made it clear enough that I like you.”
Chan swears his heart stutters to a halt for a second.
“You … like me,” he breathes out and you pull back in disbelief.
“Yes, of course, I … how was that not obvious?”
Chan shrugs helplessly, his cheeks starting to burn.
“I mean, Changbin told me you did, and Hyunjin also said it sounded like it.”
You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms across your chest.
“So, how many of your members did you ask about this?”
He flushes, but you grin at him. He takes a tentative step closer, his hands finding your wrists and gently uncrossing your arms. His eyes are caught by the image of his fingertips on your skin, the feel of it underneath his.
“Only Changbin and Jisung, and then Changbin involved Hyunjin,” he says, slowly moving your hands to come to rest on his hips. You let him, your palms coming to rest over his hoodie. When he looks up again, your eyes are glued to his lips.
“What else did they say then?”
Chan smiles, leaning forward only enough to rub his nose against yours. He can hear your breath hitch in your throat. His heart is thundering in his chest.
“Hyunjin said I should kiss you and say something profound like ‘I want to deserve you’,” he whispers and he feels you breathe out a laugh against his lips. He wonders if your heart is beating as fast as his.
“Channie,” you breathe out and it makes a shiver run down his spine, “you already deserve me.”
“Fuck,” he rasps out, his hands surging up to cup your face. But he doesn’t kiss you yet. “You’re the best part of my day, do you know that? You’re so … so damn pretty and so fucking hot and so good at what you do and so capable and … fuck, I like you, too, I hope you know that.”
You breathe out another laugh, but something in your face looks like you might cry.
“I was hoping so, yeah,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. He leans forward and ghosts his lips over yours.
“You know what else Hyunjin said?” he murmurs and it’s taking everything in him not to lean in yet. You hum in question.
“That I should make love to you until the sun rises,” he whispers, against your lips, and you whimper. His knees nearly buckle at the sound.
“God, please,” you mumble before you fist your hands into his sweatshirt and pull your body into his, pressing your lips against his hungrily. You let your tongue run over his bottom lip and he opens his mouth readily. When your tongue swipes over his, blistering electricity shocks down his spine. He kisses you harder, his tongue dipping into your mouth like he’s trying to map out every inch of it, one hand coming to your waist to pull you closer.
He would be embarrassed at the fact that he’s already filling out in his pants, if it wasn’t for the pretty little gasps you keep breathing into his mouth. God, you like him. You like him, too.
His head is swimming with the taste of you on his tongue, his body pressing closer and closer until you hit the edge of the wooden dining table. His foot hits one of the chairs and it nearly topples over, but you catch it before it can fall over. He hesitates only for a second, but it’s enough for you to notice.
“Don’t you dare apologise for that,” you mumble against his lips before you kiss him again, pulling him flush against your body. And you don’t have to tell him twice this time. He wraps one arm around your waist and lifts you onto the table, your legs falling open until he can stand between them. He leans his hands on the table on either side of you, caging you tightly against his body.
“Better?” he growls and you nod deliriously, letting your hands travel under his sweater and over his bare back, before you dig your nails into his skin. A deep groan rips from his throat at the sensation, his hips bucking forward into nothingness. Your hands are shoving his sweater up, desperately running your palms over his skin.
You’re staring at him with fire in your eyes, mumbling a quiet, “off,” and he complies instantly. And he’s used to people staring at him, of course he is, but nobody has ever looked at him the way you do. Like you had no expectations, but like he exceeded every single one of them anyways. Your eyes are roaming every piece of exposed skin, your fingertips coming to trace over his abs.
“How are you real,” you breathe and suddenly, he blushes. He’s standing in front of you half naked, rock hard in his jeans, and his face flushes crimson like he’s a school boy. You smirk at him and pull him closer.
You press a feather-light kiss on his jaw and his eyes flutter shut, his hands falling to the thighs he’d been staring at for the better part of 5 months. They feel so much better under his hands than he could’ve ever imagined, so plush and thick, he wants to feel them wrapped around his fucking head for hours. You keep kissing down his neck torturously slowly, sucking a deep mark into the skin right above his collarbone, and he thinks like he’ll go insane.
He threads his fingers into the hair on the back of your neck and tugs you backwards, your head following the motion readily, a little gasp falling from your lips. He kisses you again, with everything he has. But you pull back with a desperate little moan that makes his cock twitch in his sweats.
“Take me to my bedroom,” you breathe out and he smiles at you, scooping you up into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist effortlessly. You press messy little kisses all over his cheeks and temples, giggling slightly as he makes his way down the hallway and through the half-open door of your bedroom.
But before he can throw you onto the bed, you untangle your legs and jump from his arms, pulling him down into your lips again and turning him around, pressing your hands into his chest and walking him to the edge of your bed, forcing him to sit down. You bend down to press a few more kisses to his lips before you sink to your knees.
Oh fuck.
You stare up at him, eyes wide, lips slick and slightly parted, and the view itself makes him lightheaded. He barely thought he deserved you earlier today and now you were on your knees in front of him, looking at him like you were ready to give him whatever he asked for.
You rake your nails up his thighs and he shudders out a breath when your fingers reach his waistband.
“You … you don’t have to,” he stutters out, though his cock visibly twitches in his pants. Traitor.
You stare at him steadily as you push your fingertips underneath his waistband. He leans back, supporting himself with his arms behind him, his fingers fisted into the sheets.
“I need you to stop doing that,” you say, your face serious. He gulps, but you continue before he can ask you what you mean, “stop telling me what you do and don’t deserve. I’m on my knees in front of you because I think you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life and I want you to absolutely ruin me.”
He blinks at you, unable to form a coherent sentence, as you slowly pull at his waistband. So instead, he just lifts his hips to let you pull down his sweats and boxers. When his cock finally springs free, he hisses, watching you as your eyes dip down.
“Fuck, you’re big, Channie,” you breathe and lick your lips. Chan thinks he won’t survive you. “And so beautiful. Such a beautiful cock on a beautiful man.”
With those words, you press a hot kiss to the inside of his thigh, dragging your lips across his skin. You accidentally bump is cock with your soft cheek and he whines. Whether from the touch or from your works, he doesn’t know at this point. You chuckle.
But you seem to have mercy on him because you don’t tease, dragging your lips up his shaft sweetly. Chan’s pretty sure it’s the softest thing he’s ever felt, but then your tongue peeks out of your mouth and licks at him and he has to correct himself because holy shit.
Your hands are on his thighs, massaging his skin when your lips loosely wrap around the tip of his cock. Your tongue swipes over his slit, humming at the taste of his precum, and then you sink him into your mouth, bobbing your head slowly, intentionally, swirling your tongue around his base. When you look up at him, it’s like the breath has been punched out of him. Your lips are stretched around him, a trail of saliva running down your chin, your make-up smudged around your eyes. It’s better than any of the wet dreams he’s had about you, and he’s had many.
“Fuuuuck”, he breathes out and you hum around his cock.
You shuffle a little closer and then the hand that was holding him comes down to his balls, running lithe fingers over the velvety skin as you sink him further into your mouth until he hits your throat and you gag around him slightly.
The pleasure is overwhelming, every slide of your mouth so fucking perfect on his sensitive cock, and when your throat constricts around him, his hips jump before he can control himself.
“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers, breathing a ragged whimper as he tries to get his breathing under control.
Suddenly, you pull away from him. He flinches at the sudden loss of contact, your spit rapidly cooling on his cock.
“Channie,” you purr out, and his eyes immediately flicker to yours, like he never had a choice, “I want you to fuck my throat.”
Chan blinks at you. Surely, you didn’t just say that.
“Huh?”
You roll your eyes.
“I want you to fuck my throat. I want you to wrap your hand into my hair and tug me down onto your cock. And I want you to cum in my mouth.”
There’s a solid beat where he tries to figure out if you’re serious, but your words are echoing through his head. Stop telling me what you do and don’t deserve. And you’re staring up at him with so much desire, he wants to eat you whole.
So, carefully, he nods, mumbling something about pinching his thigh if it gets too much, before he gingerly unclenches his hand from the sheets and brings it to your face. He takes his time, lets his fingertips caress down your cheekbones, over the soft skin of your cheeks until they’re cupping your jaw. Delicately, he guides you forward, back to his cock, and you smile prettily before you wrap your lips around his head, tonguing at him in a way that that forces a moan from him. The sheer pleasure of it melts some of his hesitation, and he lets his fingers trail into your hair, running through it gently before he sinks his fingers into it and gets a good grip.
He starts slow, bobbing you up and down shallowly, the wet heat of your mouth already better than anything he’s ever felt. Then he pulls you down further, his grip on your head tightening, and the way you choke out a moan at the feeling is all the confirmation he needs. So he lets go a little bit, making you take him deeper and deeper with every subsequent slide of your mouth, and your throat opens around him readily. Then, all at once, he’s so deep that your nose bumps into his pubic hair and he’s pretty sure he’s seeing God because he has never in his life felt anything like it. He watches you, your pretty eyes fluttered shut, your nails digging into his thighs as he drags you up and down, and the image alone makes him hurtle toward his release. He can feel himself throbbing in your mouth.
“Oh, baby, baby,” he pants out, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure, “I’m gonna … I have to … oh God if you don’t want me to cum in your mouth stop me now.”
But you just hum lapping your tongue along the underside of his cock and that does it, his vision whites out as pleasure explodes in his abdomen, shuddering through his body until he can feel it in his toes. He’s cradling your head, his hips canting up ever so slightly with every wave of cum he shoots down your throat and he feels like it’s never-ending.
When he’s spent, he collapses backwards, falling against the sheets, breathless. He distantly registers you, gently unthreading his fingers from your hair and getting up before the bed dips and you crawl over him.
You look like an angel, looking down at him with a satisfied smile, even if your lips are red raw and your make-up is runny. A debauched angel. His debauched angel.
He smiles back at you before he pulls you into his lips, tasting himself when he swipes his tongue across yours. When his hands find your waist, he mewls out.
“How are you still dressed,” he complains, one hand coming to hide his face, “I can’t believe you did all of that while you’re still dressed.”
You giggle into his lips endearingly, but he flips you over until he’s hovering over you, caging you against the mattress with his elbows on either side of your head.
“Let me undress you, beautiful,” he whispers and presses a soft kiss to your lips and you just nod, eyes wide and wet.
And he does, lets his big hands finally push underneath the softness of your sweater until he can feel the unbelievably softer skin of your stomach, feeling every inch of your plush waist, squeezing and caressing to his heart’s content before he rucks the sweater up and over your head. He makes quick work of your bra, sliding it off you with a heady groan, his lips immediately pressing kisses from your collarbone to your tits, mouthing at the supple skin. When his lips wrap around your nipple, your back arches off the bed so sinfully, his cock twitches again already.
He hums as he continues to lap at your nipple, switching from one to the other, using his free hand to roll them between his thumb and pointer finger.
“P-please,” you breathe out and it makes his head spin, the airy quality of your voice like he’s never heard it before. He wants to draw every single sound out of you and he wants to catalogue them all. So he trails his kisses down your sternum, down the expanse of your belly, nuzzling his nose into the skin underneath your belly button with a hum as he works open the button of your jeans.
He gets up enough to pull your jeans and panties off you in one fluid motion, hooking his hands underneath your knees to pull you to the edge of the bed. Now he sinks to his knees and it feels almost reverent. He doesn’t care about the way his knees dig into the plush carpet because his eyes are glued to where your core is on display for him, beautiful and glistening. He hoists one of your legs over his shoulder, then the other, nuzzling the skin of your thighs with a deep sigh. Finally. But he can smell your arousal now and it’s so sweet and addicting that the kisses he places on the inside of your thighs more resemble a wet drag of his lips than anything else.
With the first lick to your folds and the first sweet moan he drags from your lips, his hand shoots down to squeeze his cock because he’s already hard again and_fuck_ you sound good and you taste even better, so sweet and tart and heady.
He leans into gathering the wetness from your entrance, swirling his tongue up to your clit and rubbing at it until your knuckles turn white on the sheets and only then does he let himself dip down and into your entrance, his tongue rubbing over the sensitive skin. You whimper and reach your hand out for him. When he sees you hesitate, he reaches out, interlacing his fingers with yours slowly and deliberately, as he laps at you. You blink down at him and you look so sweet and wrecked and so vulnerable, it’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before. It’s so unlike your professional demeanour at work, yet it’s so much more like you. It suits you. He dips his tongue into your hole, sweet wetness exploding on his tastebuds as you mewl.
“Channie,” you breathe out and he fists his cock loosely.
“What, baby?” he mumbles against your folds and moves back to rub your clit with his tongue. Your hips jump off the sheets and he brings your interlaced fingers to rest on your belly, pressing you down.
“P-please, touch me,” you whimper out, and Chan presses his tongue harder against you for a second, revelling in the way your body responds to him immediately.
“I’m touching you, baby,” he hums. When he looks up, you’re pouting and he can’t believe how fucking cute you look.
“I wan’ … wanna be full,” you whine out, and Chan’s eyes roll into the back of his head. He lets go of his cock and slowly traces one of his fingers through your folds.
“Want me to stuff you with my fingers, baby?” he asks and chuckles when you shake your head frantically.
“Wan’ your cock,” you mumble and open your eyes, the big watery depths of them making Chan questions everything he’s ever known. He haphazardly wipes his mouth on the sheets before he moves up your body, lifting you up the sheets with an arm around your waist until your pretty head is cushioned on the pillows. You look so ethereal like this, he wants to worship you and ruin you. Yes, both.
He grips you by the chin, letting his eyes roam over your features, taking one more second to revel in the fact that he has you under him. Then he kisses you deep and dirty, hard grip on your chin as he forces you to take it. He can’t resist it, and he slides one finger into your wet warm entrance, entranced by the way you flutter around him, your hands flying to his shoulders as you curse out.
“Fuck, I want your cock,” you curse out, head tipping back when Chan adds another finger.
“You think you’re ready for that, baby?” he questions, head dipping down to nip at the skin of your neck as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.
You nod frantically.
“‘M so ready. Please, Channie, I want you to stretch me open really slowly, so all I can feel is you,” you breathe out and Chan is glad his face is buried in your neck because he’s pretty sure his eyes just rolled into the back of his head “I want it to slide in real slow until I’m full.”
Chan pulls his fingers from you so abruptly it makes you sigh disappointedly. He grasps himself and spreads your slick along his shaft as he strokes his cock, dragging the head of it through your folds. Next time he will make you wait, draw more of these filthy words out of your mouth, make you cum on his tongue and on his fingers until the only thing you can say is his name; but today he’s not strong enough to resist you any longer, not when you’re begging like this.
He pulls his head back and looks into your eyes.
“You have a filthy mouth,” he mumbles, watches your eyes crinkle with a smile.
“Do you love it?” you ask coquettishly and he grins as he presses the head of his cock into your entrance.
“I love it, baby,” he mumbles as he pushes in slowly, almost breathless with how your walls are sucking him in almost by themselves, enveloping his aching cock in velvety heat. “I love your filthy fucking mouth_oh my gooooood_.”
Whatever he means to say is lost when you cross your legs behind his back and slowly pull him into you, your heat enveloping him slowly but all at once and it’s so tight and so hot. If you hadn’t already given him an earth-shattering orgasm earlier, he’s pretty sure he would be fighting tooth and nail not to cum right now.
He sits up a little bit and rocks into you gently and you whimper, quietly, brokenly, and he’s consumed by how much he wants you. He laces his fingers with yours again and pins your hand up and over your head, his other hand coming to your hip to hold you in place.
Everything around him melts away, any thoughts of his members or his work or the traffic outside the window, it all vanishes when he locks eyes with you, his own shimmering desire mirrored in yours, and rolls his hips.
“So good,” you breathe out and he dips his head down to kiss you, deep and lingering, as he grinds into you.
Much like everything else with you, this feels easy. He pulls out and pushes back in slowly, builds momentum gradually, wanting to taste every inch of you until the pleasure is prickling under his skin and he thinks he might go insane if he doesn’t get more friction, just how he likes it – and you’re underneath him, smiling as you moan, your eyes screwed shut as you rock your hips to meet his.
It’s like there’s something tying you to him, aligning you on a level that he can’t comprehend just yet. And when he picks up his pace, rutting into you harder, you take that, too, the nails of your free hand raking down his abs as his hand tightens on your hips, holding you down against the mattress with ease. He adds a little experimental tilt of his hips at the end of his stroke and oh, you clench around him with a heady moan, another wave of wetness coating his cock and making the slide even wetter.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, slightly breathless with the motions of his hips, the words falling from his lips before he can keep them in.
You chuckle, the sound of it interrupted with a heady little moan.
“Says you,” you tease him and he just … laughs, throws his head back and laughs, happiness spreading through his entire body. How are you making him laugh, and this is still the hottest sex he’s ever had.
He lets go of your hip and lets himself fall forward, his body folding over you, his sweaty chest pressed to yours. He feels the drag of your nipples against his chest as he fucks into you harder, and the pleasure makes his toes curl.
“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he pants out and presses a kiss to your parted lips, “ever since you walked into the studio on the first day, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Your hands are digging into his shoulders and he picks up his pace even more, his head falling into the crook of your neck. He inhales, the familiar smell of your perfume mixing with the entirely new smell of your body and creating something so intoxicating he never wants to lift his head again. He runs his tongue over your neck and it’s like a drug, his hand falling from yours over your head and cupping the side of your neck tightly, pulling you impossibly closer against him, as he pistons his cock into you faster, his balls tightening with how close he’s getting to his release.
He sucks on the skin of your neck, letting his teeth graze over your pulse and he can feel your walls flutter around him, tightening more with every single one of his thrusts. He knows you’re close and he winds his hand down to touch your clit, but you stop him, bringing his hand back to your throat, but to the front this time. He pulls back to look at you, and the image of his fingers wrapped around your throat burns itself into his head.
“I wanna cum like this,” you mumble and he groans in disbelief.
“How are you real?” he echoes your earlier sentiment and you huff out half a laugh that’s interrupted by your eyes rolling into the back of your head when Chan angles his hips up slightly and tightens his fingers around the side of your throat.
“God, fuck, look at you,” he pants out, nearly delirious with how you’re clenching and gushing around him so hard now. He can taste your orgasm and his is nipping on his heels close behind. Your hand comes to his wrist and then your back arches, a long moan of his name tearing from your chest as you cum around him. Your hips rock back into him wantonly as you cum and your cunt squeezes his cock tightly as you fuck yourself onto him, and that’s what makes all his careful self-control turn to dust. You rip an orgasm so visceral from his body that he doubles over, shoving himself as deep into you as he can when he cums, his thighs trembling helplessly as he fills you up.
He’s still breathless when he pulls back, cupping your face in his hands and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.
“I’m so fucking in love with you. Let me take you out to lunch tomorrow before we record,” he says, and it’s like he has never felt surer of anything in his life, all his usual hesitation crumpled up somewhere on the floor of your bedroom, discarded with his sweatpants.
You smile up at him, wider than he’s ever seen it before.
“I’m so fucking in love with you, too. Please take me out to lunch tomorrow,” you repeat, and Chan lets all the happiness bubble up until his cheeks are dimpled, and his eyes are crinkling with a smile.
He doesn’t go home that night, only checks his phone and sees Changbin telling the group chat that he’s probably boning his new girlfriend. He sends a text to tell them he’s alright and will meet them at the studio tomorrow.
You order dinner, make love again and fall asleep with your legs tangled under the sheets, kissing, talking about everything under the sun. Chan feels like his whole life has led up to this day, when he realizes that everything with you is easy. It feels like home.
And when you walk into the studio after your lunch date the next day, all of his members fall silent and stare at you expectantly. Chan catches your eyes and there’s a silent, amused agreement. He just walks over to his seat and pulls out his laptop and asks them if they’re ready to start.
But Changbin gasps out loud and cheers when Chan’s hand finds your thigh under the table half an hour later. Chan blushes and his eyes snap up to yours immediately, finding you grinning at him with so much fondness in your eyes, he wants to pull you into his lap and kiss you for all the world to see. Instead, he squeezes your leg, giddiness in his chest at the fact that he can do this now. This is the beginning of something new.
There was rarely a time where good communication and understanding couldn't solve an issue between them.
But when they did fight, it was usually due to lack of sleep from one or both of them, as well as stress and anxiety compiling on top of them. They didn't want to yell at each other … but in such a tight knit, devoted marriage as theirs, sometimes it was just inevitable.
Today was one of those days. Chan had woken up grouchy, unable to sleep all night. His pillow was too warm, the sheets seemed to strangle him as he shifted positions; and for whatever reason, Y/N had been kicking him in her sleep. When he'd slumped downstairs to eat breakfast, he had dropped his bowl of cereal all over his toes. He had also just used the last of the cereal; in annoyance, he had tossed the bowl a little too hard into the sink, and it had caused a glass in there to break.
He had already decided it was going to be a very bad day. But when Y/N told him they had to attend an impromptu dinner party later that evening with a group of people they didn't even like, he had decided he was wrong.
It was going to be the worst day in a very long time.
He had said as much, telling his wife he didn't see a point in going … Y/N had tried to placate him; for some reason that aggravated him and he had snapped at her, losing his temper. He'd gone off in a rage, slamming the door behind him and putting Y/N in a bad mood.
Now, a few hours later, the two of them get ready in silence. Chan harshly tugs at his tie, frustrated that it won't seem to comply and do what he wants it to; wordlessly, Y/N walks up to him and takes the tie from him, carefully tying it around his collar.
When she struggles with her own dress, Chan quietly helps her by zipping the back of it up. He slides it up from her waist to the base of her neck, his fingers briefly kissing her shoulders. He completely avoids her gaze in the mirror when he connects the clasp of her necklace around her neck before moving away, his cheeks reddening.
They might be mad … but that doesn't change just how much they love and care for each other.
When Y/N is done, she makes to leave the room; but Chan stops her.
He doesn't look at her. But he was watching her the entire time when her back was turned; he knows she's wearing nothing but the thin black dress hugging her body.
The man holds out a dainty jacket to her. It's her favourite one, with deep pockets and embellishments on the collar.
"Wear this," Chan says, defiantly staring ahead at a black wall. "It's freezing outside."
Y/N bites her lip. She reluctantly takes it from him, the very corners of her lips twitching faintly in a tiny smile as she leaves the room.
When the couple approach their car, Chan opens the passenger's door for her the way he always does. He's careful when he shuts the door behind her, making sure to not accidentally trap her jacket or a limb. Then he slips into the driver's seat, quietly starting the car.
The place they're going to is a good forty minutes away. The first ten minutes pass painstakingly slowly, until Chan doesn't know what to do with himself. He decides to take up a bottle of water from the cup holder and takes a large swig of it, wetting his dry mouth.
But just as he does so, he drives over a particularly large bump; the water dribbles down his chin and splashes onto his suit, instantly soaking him.
Y/N can't help it; she knows she's teetering on the edge of danger but she bursts into laughter anyway, unable to hold it in anymore. Chan stares at her dryly as he replaces the bottle back into the holder, flapping his shirt against his torso with a hand.
"You deserved that," Y/N wheezes, clutching her stomach as Chan clenches his jaw. She's amused at the sight of his muscle jumping in his cheek, and it only makes her laugh even more; she's always found her husband's anger comical. The way he stares as though he's drilling lasers into things, the way he cracks his neck to the side in annoyance, the whitening of his knuckles. She knows his gentle side more than anyone; sometimes she wonders if perhaps the way he displays his anger is an instinctive front he puts up without even knowing.
Either way, she always finds it funny. And perhaps a little bit attractive, too.
"Yeah," Chan sighs, clutching the steering wheel. He can't help it either; his lips curve up into a smile. "I think I did."
He turns to look at her and with sincerity in the warmth of his eyes, he reaches out and places his free hand atop hers. He curls them around her fingers, and Y/N looks down, heat rising up into her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," Chan says, squeezing her hands. "I really am. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."
Y/N squeezes his hand back and raises it to her face. She kisses his knuckles softly. "It's okay."
"I know it's not an excuse but … I really didn't get any sleep last night," Chan says. "And you kept kicking me in yours."
Y/N snorts. "Really?"
"Yeah."
Y/N giggles, leaning back into her seat. "Maybe I did deserve that then. Was it really bad?"
"I have bruises on my shins."
Staring at Chan as he starts to chuckle, Y/N ends up laughing too. She shakes her head, squeezing his hand again.
"Why didn't you wake me up?" Y/N asks as her shoulders shake with mirth.
Chan shrugs, flashing her another bright smile. "Didn't want you to lose out on sleep too."
Y/N sighs, and they both grow quiet again; it's comfortable this time, their silent affection growing over at each other. Y/N lets her eyes travel over her husband - even though his shirt is soaked, he still looks heartbreakingly handsome. She's sure she can see the curves of his muscles through his shirt and she bites her lip, looking up at him.
"Wanna ditch dinner?" Y/N asks him.
Chan raises his eyebrows as he turns to look at her. "I thought you said we had to go?"
"Well, if you had let me finish what I was saying before storming off," Y/N grins as Chan looks at her sheepishly. "Then you'd have known we didn't actually have to go."
Chan suddenly sighs, shutting his eyes briefly. "So … we got ready for nothing?"
"Yes," Y/N nods. "And no. We could … go somewhere else?"
Chan smirks. He suddenly turns the car around and a few minutes later he parks on the side of an empty street, switching the car off.
"Sure," he nods. "But first ... come here. I haven't kissed you all day and I'm afraid I'll pass out if I don't get to."
"Ah, well, we can't have that now, can we?" Chuckling, Y/N climbs over the divider in between them and swings her legs over his. She settles herself in his lap before leaning forward to kiss him, his arms snaking around her waist.
He kisses her back tenderly; it's a soft kiss that speaks of apology and love, and Y/N smiles against his plump mouth as she leans closer to him. She presses her body against his and suddenly jumps; the water soaked into his shirt has made the fabric cold and she gasps, the front of her dress growing wet too. She stares at her husband before they burst into quiet laughter, her head falling against his shoulder as he hugs her tightly.
---
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lee minho x reader (x han jisung)
I recommend reading part 5 before you read this one!
summary: “Do it to me,” he pleads, "I've never wanted to sub, but now I do. Do it to me."
word count: 4.3k
warnings: voyeurism & exhibitionism; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it & pee after sex, guys); first time sub!minho, kinda mean!dom!reader (but it's also soft); handjob; oral; dry humping; degradation; choking; spit; edging/orgasm denial; reader calls minho kitten (but no petplay)
author’s note: wheeeew this one's a doozy!! pure filth, not even a semblance of plot. first time sub minho!! be nice to him, he's never done this before.
also we're closing out the main "story"line! I still have some drabbles in the pipeline and my inbox is very open for comments, questions and ideas 👀 I love this universe and would love to hear your theories and ideas!! thank you to all of you for your support, this has been a dream <3
series masterlist // skzms' general masterlist 🔖 taglist is closed
You make sure Seungmin has recovered completely before you leave him with a kiss to his forehead, and you and Minho slip back down the hallway to Minho’s room.
As soon as the door closes behind you, Minho pushes you against it, his lips on yours. His hands slide under your shirt and run all over you while he licks into your mouth dirtily. When he pulls back, his face is flushed and his eyes are wild.
“Do it to me,” he pleads, "I've never wanted to sub, but now I do. Do it to me."
If he wasn’t staring at you as wildly as he is, you would question if you heard him right. But he says it again.
“Fucking do it to me,” he demands.
“Do what exactly?” you ask him, eyes wide with shock.
“Everything, all of it. Push me around, edge me, be mean. I want it,” his voice drops lower and lower as his eyes flick down to your lips. He licks his own, “I want it so bad.”
You can’t believe your ears.
“Minho, are you sure?” you insist, “why now?”
Minho rolls his eyes, his hands tightening on your wrists as he presses his body against yours harder.
“Do you have any idea how fucking hot you are like that?” he murmurs and presses a lingering kiss on your lips, “you just fucking used him to get off. I thought I was gonna cum in my pants.”
He’s not usually this candid. It lights a fire deep inside of you, and before he can compute what’s happening, you give him a shove and he tumbles into the wall, your body crowding him against it. Minho looks dumbstruck as he stares at you, his mouth slightly open.
“What the fuck,” he breathes out and you narrow your eyes.
You lean in, so close that your lips are almost touching. His breath falters and he tries to surge forward to connect his lips to yours, but your hand shoots up and wraps around his throat. He growls when you push his head back. It makes contact with a dull thud.
“First of all, tell me you remember our safe word and the traffic light,” you say and Minho nods immediately, his eyes unreadable as he stares into yours. You nod in return before you smirk devilishly.
“Second of all,” You let your voice drop to a much more threatening register, “you don’t touch unless I tell you to, understood?”
He nods again, though this time much less decidedly.
You lean forward again, rubbing your nose against his and he tips his chin forward as if to kiss you, but you pull away. He huffs against your lips. Your hand is still wound around his throat and you can tell he’s trying not to fight it, even if every single fibre of his being wants to.
“Such an obedient kitty,” you purr and he almost jerks out of your grasp at the nickname.
“Ew, don’t call me that of all things,” he spits out, glaring at you. But you don’t take the bait. You just keep looking at him steadily, and a bit of uncertainty taints his features. This is new territory for him.
“I’ll call you whatever I please,” you warn him and before he can talk back, you tighten your grip on his throat and his eyes actually roll into the back of his head at the feeling. You chuckle meanly.
“That’s what I thought,” you mumble and sneak a hand between your bodies, much like you had done to Seungmin earlier. You let your fingertips graze over the erection that’s been straining against his pants for hours now. He groans out at the feeling.
“Aw, have you been hard all this time?” you purr out and he growls again, his head thrashing against your hold. But his hands stay obediently by his sides.
“You know damn well … oh FUCK,” he slams his hand into the wall behind him when you squeeze his cock hard through the fabric, his snippy response trailing off into a heady groan.
“What’s that, kitty?” you ask innocently and you watch his eyes narrowing, lips twitching as if he’s trying to figure out what to do.
But you interrupt him again and start rubbing him through his pants in the way you know drives him crazy. He swallows down his moan, but he can’t keep his hips from bucking into your hand.
“This is how this is going to work: You do what I tell you and you get rewarded,” you explain as you keep palming him, and he’s huffing and in your grasp, “if you are disobedient, kitty, I will punish you.”
His eyes glint and you glare at him, slowly sliding your hand further up his throat so he’s forced to tilt his head back. He barely struggles this time.
When your attention goes back to his hips, you realise that you long ago stopped needing to palm him because instead, he has started grinding against your palm absolutely shamelessly, his hips rolling in tight snaps. When your hand moves back even slightly, a badly contained whine falls from his lips, eyebrows furrowing in disapproval. You do it a few times, letting him grind against your palm before pulling back and watching his hips rise from the wall, chasing the friction desperately.
Then you suddenly press down against him harder, letting him grind against you with his full weight, and he moans so desperately it makes wetness pool in your panties.
It’s hard to believe what you’re seeing: Your Minho, dominant, possessive, quick to anger Minho, is desperately humping your one hand while the other is wrapped around his throat – and he seems to be loving every second of it.
You can tell he’s already close, and truthfully, you can’t blame him. You would’ve never had the self-control, since he barely even touched himself while you were taking Seungmin apart. But you won’t tell him that.
“Aw, is my little kitten gonna cum just from humping my hand?” you ask, your voice dripping in sarcasm. Minho’s face flushes even darker and he groans, but he doesn’t deny it, his movements only growing more and more desperate. His eyes are rolling back into his head as his palms are dragging against the wall, one hand shooting up to hold on to your hand where it’s wrapped around his throat.
“Kiss,” he breathes out, his gasps now ragged from the exertion and the hand that’s still wrapped around his neck.
You raise one eyebrow.
“Sorry?”
He growls again, but his eyes are a lot softer than they were earlier and it sends shocks of power through you. You nearly have him where you want him, where he wanted to be.
“Kiss me … fuck, please kiss me,” he hisses and you give him a sweet smile.
“Aw, very sweet, kitten,” you murmur as you lean forward. But you only brush your lips against his, not kissing him properly and he whines, loudly this time.
“Fuck, please, I asked nicely,” he curses out and you pretend to think about it for a torturous second before you lean in and finally press your lips against his, your tongue slipping into his mouth immediately.
The deep groan that rips from his chest sounds like pleasure and relief, greedy inhales against your cheeks as he kisses you back as best as he can while you’re restraining him. But it’s still deep and so sexy and so much messier than usual.
It’s so distracting that you almost don’t notice that he’s working himself up to his release with his tongue in your mouth and his hips grinding against you. You pull back with a disbelieving scoff, ripping your hand from his crotch at the same time, and he stares at you wildly, his eyes wide and heartbroken.
“What the fuck, oh my GOD,” he whines out, his hips bucking into nothing as his impending orgasm slowly ebbs away. You shake your head at him disapprovingly.
“You don’t cum until I tell you to, either, kitten,” you chastise him and he just squeezes his eyes shut and whines. You slowly loosen your hand from his throat and he gulps in a few deep breaths, but he makes no effort to move or even grab for you. Perfect.
“Undress and sit on the bed,” you order.
There’s some defiance in his eyes, but he rips his shirt over his head, balling it in his fist by his side. He hesitates for a second before going further, waiting for you to nod before he unbuttons his pants and slides down his zipper. You watch him intently as he shoves his pants and his boxers down in one go, licking your lips as his cock springs from its confines, hanging heavy and angry between his toned thighs. Your mouth is watering at the sight, but you don’t let it show, only humming as you stare to your heart’s content.
When you look up, Minho’s ears are burning a bright red.
“You’ve seen this before, you know,” he teases, but his voice is wavering slightly.
You shrug nonchalantly, your gaze dragging down his body again. He’s flushed and dewy and gorgeous, and his broad chest is heaving desperately. You don’t even look him in the eyes and you can see him start to fidget uncomfortably at your lack of a response to his teasing. He’s not used to this silence.
“Are you gonna get undressed, too?” He asks impatiently, and you smirk at him.
“Nope. Now sit on the bed,” you order, and Minho wavers briefly, before he pushes himself off the wall. He walks to the bed backwards, his eyes never leaving yours until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he sits down.
You follow him leisurely and come to stand in between his legs, not touching him at all, but so close he has to tilt his head back to look up at you. He’s dazzling like this, pupils blown until his big boba eyes are nothing but darkness.
“Who knew you’d be such a good kitten, not even trying to touch,” you purr out and you can see his eyebrows furrow as he realises. He almost looks confused and you can’t hide the endeared chuckle that tumbles past your lips as you lean down to press your lips to his. His hands shoot up to tangle into your shirt and pull you closer, but you pull back, swatting at his hands.
“That was not an invitation to break the rules now,” you chastise him, your voice strict again. You expect him to complain, but instead, he just pouts at you and moves his hands back and behind himself to fist the sheets. You blink at him for a second. He looks so eager, peering up at you with big eyes as he fists his hands into the sheets harder as if to say ‘look, I’m good, now reward me.’ You want to eat him up.
You give him a sweet smile and trail a finger over his cheekbone before you sink to your knees. He watches you with big eyes as you press a kiss to the inside of his knee.
You take your time kissing up his thighs, pressing feather-light kisses here, nipping at the skin there. You make sure to suck a few deep hickeys into his taut skin, ones that make Minho moan out above you, the muscles of his thighs jumping underneath your hands. The thought of marking him up for a change, of him waking up for the next few days and seeing them on himself, being reminded of you – it drives you wild.
By the time you reach his cock, he’s an even angrier red, droplets of pre-cum running down his shaft with every twitch of it and Minho’s panting above you. But he still hasn’t moved his hands.
“Look at it, so angry,” you coo as you eye his cock, blowing a soft stream of air onto it and he yelps and his hips nearly jump off the bed.
“Fucking hell,” he gasps out, his head falling backwards.
A part of you wants to make him beg now, but the promise of him doing it by himself if you tease him enough makes you patient. You swipe your tongue along the underside of his dripping cock, and he nearly jumps out of his skin, his elbows buckling as he falls backwards.
You pull back and Minho lets out a shaky breath, the muscles of his abdomen tensing.
“No, no, w-why did you stop?” he stammers out, his eyes wide as he stares at you.
You chuckle and he flushes even redder.
“Why? Do you need it?” you ask, calculatedly, and you can see the gears turning in his head for a second before he gives up.
“I do …” he mumbles and you raise your eyebrows.
“I need you to say it, kitten,” you purr and he whines, cock jumping again. You giggle. “Looks like you’re starting to like the nickname.”
He scowls at you, but it lacks all bite with how blown his pupils are and how thoroughly ruined he looks.
"I hate it,” he mumbles and you slowly drag your nails along the insides of his thighs. He whines. “But I …,” he hesitates as he stares down at you. He looks conflicted and uncertain. You give him time to collect his thoughts. He finally breathes out and closes his eyes.
“Fucking hell, I need you to touch me,” he says gently, his eyes still screwed shut. “I’m going fucking insane and I want you to touch me. Please touch me. I’m not good at asking but please, I really … JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.”
His eyes shoot open when you wrap your hand around his cock and start stroking his cock firmly, your head dipping down enough to spit on his head.
“Fuuuuck, you need to stop doing that,” he whines out, before his sentence trails off into another heady moan. You giggle, “that’s literally the entire point.”
The room is filled with the slick sound of your hand as you stroke him. Truth be told, you didn’t even need your spit, his cock was wet enough just from the pre-cum beading from his slit. But now it’s extra slick and extra messy and contrary to what you used to think, Minho loves messy. You blame Jisung for that penchant.
You jerk him off hard and fast, watching as he dissolves above you. His beautiful head is thrown back, his knuckles white from how hard he’s holding on to the sheets. You can feel his cock pulsing in your hand and pull away again, making him whimper bitterly.
“How long are you gonna keep doing this,” he whines out, one of his hands moving from the sheets to swipe over his face, pressing his fingers into his eyes.
“However long I see fit,” you counter, “you know you can always say the safe word and we stop if it’s too much?”
Minho pouts at you angrily.
“You know full well that I’m good, stop being mean,” he complains and now you actually laugh.
“I figured,” you mumble.
Without a warning, you bring your hand back to his cock, at a different angle now, and stroke him slowly, but steadily. More pre-cum dribbles out of his head and all over your hands and the sheets.
“So messy,” you mumble and look up at him, eyes locking onto his as you dip down and swipe your tongue over his slit. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he watches you, a frustrated huff slowly dissolving into another whine when you do it again, suckling at his tip as you keep stroking him.
He’s so hot and heavy and you can taste the salty slickness of his pre-cum and there’s nothing you want more than to sink him into your mouth until he cums all over your tongue, but you need to stay strong – though that’s easier said than done when your pussy is throbbing in your panties.
When you can feel him pulsing again, you pull your hand away, only tonguing at his head, and the noise he lets out is beyond anything you’ve ever heard him make before. It’s delirious, raspy, and high-pitched at the same time, accompanied by deep, heavy pants.
“Okay, fuck, please,” he slurs out, eyes screwed shut, “I can’t … please, baby, please, I can’t …”
You pop your mouth from his cock and replace it with your hand, thumb rubbing over his head.
“Tell me what you want, Min,” you say sweetly, and Minho whimpers at you, finally using his actual name. A tear slips from his right eye, and your breath catches in your throat.
“Y/Nie, please, baby, I need your pussy, I need to feel you, fuck,” he stutters out, “I really fuck, I wanna cum, so badly, please baby, please … please m-mommy.”
You think you might pass out. You get up and haphazardly wipe your hand on the sheets before you cradle Minho’s head. His eyes are glassy and hooded. Another tear slips down his cheek, and you coo at him.
“It’s okay, baby, I’ll give you what you want,” you hum reassuringly and he sighs in relief.
You step back enough to shuck your pants and panties off your legs and pull your shirt over your head before you climb into his lap and kiss him feverishly. This time, when his arms wrap around you and he pulls you against his body like he can’t get enough, you let him. You let him devour you, scratching at your bare back as he desperately whimpers into your mouth.
You give him as much as he wants, wait until he pulls back breathlessly before you sit back and align his cock with your entrance. Your gaze is locked onto his face when you sink down and you watch as every single part of his face goes slack, a desperate wail falling from his open lips, his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips only briefly. You wish you could take a picture.
But your self-control is nearing its end, seared away by the burning need in your gut. You lift yourself slightly off him and sink back down experimentally, and that alone punches a weak ah from his slack lips.
But he sits so hard and heavy inside of you and the drag is so delicious that you can’t wait any longer, swivelling your hips as you lift up this time, his cock twitching inside of you at the motion.
Your legs are already burning, still tired from the exertion of riding Seungmin earlier, but your desperation is stronger and you start bouncing on him. It’s rough and hard and you don’t hold back, but if Minho’s uncontrolled moans are anything to judge by, it’s exactly what he needs, too.
Distantly, you think you can hear the door to Minho’s room open.
“J-Jisung?” You call out hoarsely. You hope to God it’s Jisung and not another member because you don’t know how to stop, not now. But you hear his voice clear as day as he says your name.
“What are you doing in here? Do you have any idea how loud you’re being … Oh.”
His footsteps halt in the middle of the room as he slowly takes in the scene in front of him; you, bouncing on Minho’s cock, his thighs covered in hickeys, his hands fisted into the sheets, hair plastered to his sweaty forehead as he moans wildly.
“What the fuck,” Jisung breathes out, his hand shooting down to his crotch as he stares from you to Minho.
You’ve briefly stopped bouncing, grinding your hips over Minho as you stare at Jisung with hooded eyes. You try to collect your thoughts, but god, your clit is rubbing perfectly against Minho’s pubic hair, and Jisung is so so so pretty.
“We played with Seungmin,” you try to explain, blinking rapidly, “w-we took care of him. Min asked me to do the same to him.”
It’s barely coherent, but Jisung seems to get the idea.
“Holy fuck,” he just breathes out as he walks over to the bed. When Minho pries his glassy eyes open, Jisung digs his palm into his crotch and shudders out a breath.
“I know, baby, she’s so good at that, isn’t she,” he coos at Minho, patting his cheek affectionately. Minho nuzzles into the touch with a mewl, eyes fluttering shut, and Jisung gasps. He leans down slowly to press a hot kiss to Minho’s lips, but Minho immediately winds his hand into Jisung’s hair. His lips are slick and demanding, making Jisung squeak out in surprise, nearly toppling over right on top of Minho, but he catches himself.
The vision of Minho’s slack lips opening for Jisung, his tongue licking into Jisung’s plush, pink lips, Jisung’s hand still palming himself through his sweats – it makes you work your hips faster.
Minho pulls back from Jisung and stares up at him, glassy but determined.
“Gimme your cock, Jisungie,” he mumbles out, and Jisung nearly chokes on his own spit.
“HUH?!” He gasps out.
“Need something in my mouth,” Minho rasps out, briefly interrupted when you clench around him, glassy eyes rolling into the back of his head. They barely refocus when he whispers out, “please, let me suck your pretty cock, Jisungie.”
Jisung whimpers, eyes glued to Minho’s face as he shoves down his pants. You chuckle breathlessly, fucking yourself down on Minho harder, a tingling numbness spreading through your legs slowly.
“Are you even hard yet?” you say teasingly, and Jisung gives you a playful glare.
“I’ve been hard ever since we started hearing you and Minho go to town like half an hour ago. It was torture to have to pretend like I didn’t immediately want to run off to join you.”
You smile at him dumbly as a shudder racks down your spine. You roll your hips just so and mewl as Minho’s cock drags across your sweet spot.
“I edged him like … hnng four times,” you explain as Jisung strokes himself, making Jisung curse out again. But then Minho reaches out, wrapping his hand around Jisung’s ass, and tugs him closer. As soon as he’s within reach, Minho sucks Jisung into his mouth, jaw falling slack as he presses his tongue flat against the bottom of Jisung’s cock, a heady moan tearing from his throat.
Jisung whimpers out, his hands scrambling for purchase on the bed frame as Minho swallows him down, pulling him closer until Jisung’s cock is almost entirely buried in Minho’s throat.
Minho didn’t often get on his knees for Jisung, but every time he did, Jisung blew within minutes. And you weren’t surprised, Minho made you fall apart on his tongue regularly, so the fact that he gave mind-blowing blowjobs wasn’t exactly out of character.
You can feel heat in your abdomen building with every single perfectly angled nudge of Minho’s cock and it’s getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open. But the view from where you’re riding Minho is … breathtaking. His broad shoulders flush with the bed, abs flexing, his head turned to the side, eyes fluttered closed, jawline sharp enough to cut glass as he bobs his head up and down on Jisung’s cock hungrily. Jisung whimpers above him every time, one hand still holding on to the bed frame for dear life, the other tangled in Minho’s sweaty, messy hair.
“Guide him,” you breathed out, “he’ll let you today.”
Jisung stares at you with wide eyes before looking down at Minho, the view alone punching a small whimper from his chest. He tentatively tightens his grip on Minho’s hair and pulls him further down on his cock, and Minho moans, making Jisung shudder. He guides him up and down again, and Minho pliantly lets his mouth fall open and Jisung is done for. Your vision is swimming in front of your eyes, the heat in your abdomen rising unbearably, and you manage to just about see Jisung fuck Minho’s mouth one, two, three, four times before his whole body convulses and he shoots pearly white ropes of his cum into Minho’s mouth and all over his beautiful, beautiful face –
Then the coil in your belly finally snaps and pleasure racks through your body, toes curling as cum around Minho’s cock, wetness drooling out of your cunt. And he’s not far behind, two more grinds of your hips to ride out your own orgasm and he throws his head back, eyes rolling so hard you think he might pass out as he cries out and empties himself deep inside of you, painting your walls with ropes and ropes of white, so much you can feel it pushing out of you already.
Your legs are aching, and his release is gushing out of you when you finally lift yourself off Minho’s softening cock, but you don’t care. You just collapse next to him, throwing an arm over his waist and nuzzling into his shoulder.
Jisung collapses behind Minho, curled over the pillows, as he tries to catch his breath. Minho’s eyes are shut, and his chest is still rising and falling rapidly. A bead of sweat rolls down his forehead, and you briefly wonder if he’s okay; but then his hand gently reaches for yours and he interlaces his fingers with yours.
As usual, Jisung speaks first.
“I’m going to send Kim Seungmin a gift basket,” he mumbles out from somewhere above you and you can’t hold back a giddy giggle, Jisung joining in with you soon. When Minho speaks up next to you, his voice is rough with disuse, and there’s a lazy grin on his face as he pops one eye open to look at you lovingly.
“Make that two,” he rumbles out, “but now someone give me something to wipe Jisung’s jizz off my face.”
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