10XL |BangChan (WIP)

𝐀/𝐍: This is just a wip idea in my notes it will probably take forever to get out ┻━┻ミ＼(≧ﾛ≦＼)

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You feel like blowing money and buy a 10xl hoodie for you and Chan to try and wear together for a cute Instagram couple video. You get all tangled with chan in the sweater and have to communicate slowly and move slowly to get untangled but you just let yourselves fall onto the floor and fuck in the huge ass sweater instead. No way are you putting this video on Instagram.. 😮‍💨

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

If you like my content and would like to support me you can tip me! Or just give me feedback! That works too.<3

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Tags

stray kids bang chan skz skz hyunjin txt smut skz smut skz bang chan kpop smut stray kids chan chan smut skz chan skz hard thoughts bang chan smut bangchan smut skz hard hours kpop hard hours kpopsmut

wedding season ♡ the unplanned activity

The day at the pool is a planned activity, but Minho and you find something better to do.

⇢ pairing: minho x fem!reader ⇢ word count: 7.1k ⇢ genre: smut, angst, non-idol!au, fake dating!au, exes to lovers!au, unrequited love, love triangle, exboyfriend!minho, ex!best friend chan ⇢ warnings: 18+, minors dni! mentions of a group of people being immature pricks, fear of water; drinking, drunk sex, smut [groping, handjob, fingering, tit sucking, oral sex (m. and f. receiving), protected sex, use of the word slut (the mc uses it for both of them), one tit smack, cum on body] ⇢ masterlist ♡ series masterpost ♡ updates ♡ read on AO3 ⇢ reblogs and feedback are always motivating and appreciated! ♡

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

When you thought about what the trip will be like, never once did it occur to you that you’d find yourself in the pool with Minho, surrounded by people, and see him not care about anyone or anything else. You didn’t think he’d go swimming, period, let alone look this relaxed doing it.

But then again, you two have been flirting for a while now, joking around and pretending other people exist, so him forgetting about his fear doesn’t surprise you at all.

Out of the blue, some of Chris’s friends start swimming around you, spraying each other with water and trying to hold each other’s heads underwater. It’s a stupid, childish thing, and you can’t believe grown men are acting this way and getting everyone else around them wet.

Chris soon joins them, and it seems like they’re drunk because they’re spraying water everywhere and getting other people involved, laughing as they do. It could be fun, maybe, but it’s not fun when you worry about Minho and his fear of water.

Even poor Sunyoung gets her head underwater, but she emerges laughing and spraying her soon-to-be husband. “Screw you, guys!” she shouts, and you almost laugh at them being idiots, but then you remember this is Minho’s worst fear.

Judging by the small group’s moving pattern, they’ll soon reach your part of the pool and probably won’t even ask before deciding to have “fun” with the two of you.

“Minho, it’s time to get wet!” Chris jokingly shouts, still too far away to notice how Minho frantically grabs your hand underwater and intertwines his fingers with yours, holding onto you tight.

“Don’t think so!” you shout back and stand right in front of Minho, wrapping your arms around his neck so you can jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. The very next second, you’re in his arms and he’s helping hold you up, the water doing most of the work.

Your ex is surprised by you climbing on top of him but can’t even express it out of fear—you can read it all on his face. It’s been years, but you still know how Minho feels just by looking at him. The fact that he’s doing this for you even though he’s scared just reminds you of the things Jisung told you, and you instantly feel like the worst person out there. This guy shouldn’t be out here in fear just to indulge your stupid little whim.

“It's fine,” you whisper at Minho, which makes him look at your lips and close his eyes for a second as if he's trying to agree with you without saying a word. “I promise.”

Your ex hums and opens his eyes, sighing loudly. His arms hold onto you tight, fingers digging into the skin of your thighs as he holds you up.

Chris shouts something at you in return, but you’re too busy looking into Minho’s eyes to even register it, and you don’t care about their childish game enough to turn around and face the groom. “Maybe later,” you say, raising your voice just a little bit. “We’re busy now.”

Minho doesn’t say a thing for a while, focused solely on your eyes, even though his gaze does fly over your shoulder here and there to check where the group is and whether anyone's coming over to try to pull you two below the surface.

“What are you doing?” Minho asks as soon as the three men move back to their side of the pool. “You’re supposed to be convincing the guy you’re miserable with me, not the opposite.”

You chuckle, throwing your head back, your limbs still wrapped around his body tightly. It’s a relief that he’s not angry or scared—after everything, he’s here worrying about your plan. “I kind of enjoy being carried around. Plus, this is a good workout for you.”

“You do know you’re a lot lighter in the water, right?” Minho reminds you and grimaces at you, but you laugh that off, too.

“I know. I’m saving you from people and letting you enjoy your pool time,” you whisper, leaning in. You feel your lips brush against his ear in the process, and your core clenches at the touch for some reason, even though the moment isn’t intimate. “You don’t have to carry me, though, that part is a joke.”

“No, it’s fine,” Minho tells you, grabbing your thighs to lift you a bit before he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his frame. You’re now so close your noses are practically touching, and you haven’t been in a position like this since the last time you two kissed. “Fewer people will bother us if they think we’re a couple doing coupley things.”

“I’m sorry about this,” you tell him, ignoring the last part. You don’t want to think about all the things that come up in your mind when he says that. “I didn’t think they’re such kids.”

“Pretty, weren’t they always?” Minho squints his eyes and glares at you, knowing he has a point. “You’re always surprised when your man acts childish like he hasn’t been that way since you met him.”

“You… Actually have a point,” you admit with a shrug. “You’re right.”

“God, I love hearing you say that,” Minho says with a loud groan, similar to the ones he lets out when he’s coming—and if anyone knows what that sounds like, it’s you. Why you’re thinking about that, you have no idea.

“Let’s have another drink,” you suggest, hoping that will take your mind off of things you shouldn’t be thinking about while you’re in his arms.

When Minho agrees, you two wave a waiter over and soon get the drinks that you gulp down almost instantly. It’s because you need courage if you’re going to make the trip worth his while. Jisung has made a good job of getting inside your head and making you question your relationship with his friend.

Throughout the whole thing, you stay in his arms, legs wrapped around his waist, drink in hand. Minho and you talk and giggle, tease each other constantly, and you enjoy every second of it. Being around him is so easy when you’re not putting up a fight or overthinking things, and today just reminds you of that. He carries you around while you drink, and everyone leaves you two be, which is how you prefer it.

“You should drink more often,” Minho suggests with a grin, downing the shot he ordered with the latest round of cocktails. It has to be the last one because you will pass out if you have any more drinks other than the one already in your hand.

“Why, because I’m on you when I do?” You down your drink and place the glass on the edge of the pool, arms once again free to wrap around his shoulders.

Your ex stops moving and looks at you for a second or two, inspecting your face thoroughly. Then, he smiles. “No, because you laugh loudly and smile all the time, and you’re even prettier then, pretty.”

“Aw, are you getting soft on me?” You fake pout and pinch his cheeks, to which he scoffs and puts his shot glass down by the edge of the pool.

“Trust me, there’s nothing soft about me right now,” he says teasingly and tongues his cheek, and you know exactly what Minho means. “I’m not saying it because of that, though, but because you need to be more confident.”

“I’m way more confident now than I was back then,” you point out, happy with your progress. You’re never going to be on Minho’s level of confidence, you’re sure of that, but you feel better about yourself than you did back in college, and that's something.

“The only reason you weren’t confident back then was that asshole,” Minho mumbles and glares at Chris, who is jumping in at the other side of the pool, far away from you in Minho’s arms.

“What do you mean?” You laugh at the very idea of Chris having anything to do with your low self-esteem back then. The truth is, you’d been single for a long time and you thought your value as a person was low because you couldn’t find a great person to date. Of course, when you grew a bit older—and wiser, you like to think—you realized that being single had nothing to do with someone not being good enough. Chris had nothing to do with your distorted sense of self.

“I mean… He made you think you weren’t good enough,” Minho says, sounding fully convinced in the truthfulness of his statement. “And you were even more than that.”

You have to disagree with him. “He didn’t say anything like that…”

Minho shakes his head and pulls you in closer, so close your chests are now touching. “Really? Chris didn’t constantly remind you that I fucked around before we got together, that I had a lot of experience you didn’t? He didn’t warn you about me, telling you to be careful because so many,” he rolls his eyes while he mutters, “women wanted me and I had never been in a relationship before, and I could easily fuck one of them when you weren't around?”

When he says these things, you get taken back to the past and realize Minho is right—Chris did say them, but he was just trying to warn you. He didn’t want you to get hurt, and that was your biggest fear. After all, you knew Minho was way out of your league. You looked okay, weren’t stupid, could be fun, but he was gorgeous, smart, funny, and had such charisma that people just flocked to him, even back then.

Before you two got together, Minho had never been in a real relationship, never wanted to settle down with someone, so it surprised you that he wanted you two to try it. You knew he fucked more girls than you could count and they were all probably more experienced than you, better than you. These things weighed over you all the time, but you couldn’t really blame Chris, even if he pointed them out often. “It’s my fault for believing these things.”

“If Jisung was dating a girl he thought was too good for him, I’d tell him no one was too good for him because he’s a great fucking guy,” Minho tells you with a smile, and you know he means it. “I wouldn’t tell him she slept around before him and that she’ll probably do that again because so many hot guys want her. I wouldn't try to make him doubt himself so he could break things off with her. You wouldn't say that to a friend either. You should have listened to me instead.”

You should have.

Being with Minho—physically—was always great for your self-esteem. Despite all the teasing and playfulness, you always got more compliments than you needed, and Minho made sure you knew he found you pretty and attractive and funny and interesting. That’s why he called you pretty in the first place—the first time he called you that, you were so moved you kissed him and said it was the sweetest thing anyone had told you. After that, it became like a new name to you, at least in his book.

“You’re right about that,” you agree with him, even if you think Chris didn’t have bad intentions. “But I’m over most of those problems now, anyway.”

“I can see,” he looks down at the way you’re wrapped around him, “and you should be. If you weren’t pretending you were with me, trust me, all these guys would try something. You’re too good for them, though.”

You scoff at that, even if you think everything he is saying is sweet and caused by the alcohol rushing through his system, plus the adrenaline of being in the water. “Really? Is it because I’m such a moral person?”

It’s Minho’s turn to laugh heartily. “You’re not in it to hurt other people, and that’s what’s important.”

Are you? You think about it for a second, but the last thing you want is to see Sunyoung or Chris hurt. You wanted to hate her, but it’s hard when she’s such a sweet, nice person. You’ve met her last night, even danced with her, and she gushed all about her love for Chris. You couldn’t hate her if you tried, that much was clear. Besides, your plan was fucked from the beginning.

“I guess I’m softer than I thought,” you admit, not wanting to talk about Chris when you’re so confused about Minho to even think about the other dude. So, you change the topic back to something lighter and say, “Unlike you.”

“I thought you couldn't feel it,” Minho says and throws you towards the surface, enough for your crotch to move away from his erection and get pressed into his stomach instead. “My bad.”

“You thought I wouldn’t feel a dick that hard between my legs?” You look at him questioningly before smirking. “How drunk are you, Minho?”

“Not as drunk as the girl that’s secretly been enjoying having my dick against her pussy for the last ten minutes,” he quips and downs the rest of his cocktail, even if he’s just had a shot. You're always surprised by how he can say the crudest things with the straightest face in public. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”

“I’m in your arms, it’s right there, things happen…” You shrug and lean backward, letting your back rest on the water while Minho holds you by the waist. “I didn’t mind it.”

“Don’t do this to me if you don’t want to get fucked,” he hisses out a warning and chuckles.

That’s when you realize the position is extremely sexual for two people who have had sex a million times before—your legs around him, your crotch against his, his hands on your waist, holding you pressed into him while your upper body floats. You hate sex in water, but if all these people weren’t around, you’re sure Minho would make even that feel good.

“Maybe I do,” you say with a chuckle and open your eyes again to look up at Minho. It’s up to him now. “So what?”

With one quick move of his hands, Minho gets you to sit up and straighten your back, his arms once again around you, lips next to yours. “What are you doing, pretty?”

“Offering you sex, if you’re interested,” you respond and lean in to press your lips against his. You're at the pool and most of the wedding guests are there too, but you can't get yourself to care. For all they know—including Chris—you two are a couple. You kiss and fuck and love each other, so this shouldn’t be surprising.

Minho kisses you back, not letting himself get carried away before he pulls away and inspects your face from up close. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been hard for a long time and it’s making me want to fuck you right here,” you admit, leaning in and biting on his lower lip. You'll never be immune to Minho, no matter how hard you try. Besides, why should you try? You want him, he's clearly horny—what's stopping you? “We’re both single, and you fuck so well, so…”

Instead of saying something to your offer, your ex kisses you, this time using his tongue. The more it swirls inside of your mouth, the wetter you get, and the more you enjoy having him between your legs, long and hard, reminding you of what’s to come if Minho is willing. You don't care about your surroundings and who can see you—all you're focused on is reciprocating the kiss and enjoying every second of it.

Minho grunts into your mouth and pushes his hips into yours, and you feel like you could come any second even if he hasn’t even touched you yet. Fucking Minho and his perfect tongue and taste and smell and the way he touches you and how attractive his moans are and how well you know he fuc—

“Get a room!” one of the guys screams jokingly and sprays you two with water, but neither one of you moves.

Minho breaks the kiss and pulls away just enough for your lips to part, but you feel his breath on your face and see him looking at you with lust written all over his face. The guy is so pretty you can’t stop staring, and he doesn’t seem to mind.

“Shall we?” you feel confident enough to suggest, even though he could turn you down easily.

“What?” Minho asks, even though you’re sure he knows what you mean. He's looking at you like he knows, and his fingers are once again holding your thighs from below, even if they are practically resting on your ass.

Still, you indulge him and say it out loud. “Get a room.”

“Is that my reward?” your ex suggests, the grin wiped off his face for some reason, jaw clenching.

You shake your head at the suggestion. “No. I just want us to fuck. No rewards, no games.”

“In that case, your room or mine?”

Ten minutes later, still wet from the pool, you're in Minho's room, pushed against the door while he kisses you, his hand roughly groping your tit before moving down to do the same with your ass. You're wearing a bikini, but his hands manage to get under it with ease and touch whatever part he wants.

“Fuck, you're hard,” you mumble with both hands wrapped around his cock, which is leaking precum already. You swipe your thumb over the tip, making Minho hiss and bite into your shoulder, and it turns you on that he's so quick to show how much he likes your touch.

“See what you do to me?” Minho grunts into your skin, and the words make you get wetter instantly. “See how fucking hard you get me?”

You fucking love vocal men, and he's the one to blame for that. You enjoy hearing how horny you get someone and you bask in the sounds you get them to make all thanks to Minho and his filthy mouth which is currently kissing its way down your body.

He pushes your swimsuit to the side to get your tit out. Once Minho does that, his tongue starts swirling around it, and all you can do is pump your hands faster and moan for him. “Suck harder,” you tell him, squeezing the tip of his swollen cock. “Want your mouth on me.”

Minho chuckles and does as asked, sucking your nipple into his mouth, biting the flesh around it. When he lets go of it with a pop, you think you'll come right then and there because of the sight of his wet swollen lips right next to your nipple. “Pretty, let's go get a condom,” he suggests, and you nod, even if you want to keep touching him for hours.

You follow him to the bed, sad that you two have to part while he looks for a condom in his drawer. But, while Minho is standing next to the bed and shuffling through the drawer, you drop down to your knees and pull his swim trunks down his thighs, taking his cock into your mouth, which stops him from moving.

He grunts and kicks his head back, hands grabbing your head and pushing it towards him, making you take all of him. When you do, you swallow on purpose, and he moans. “You really want me to blow before I get to fuck you,” he mutters happily and continues searching for the condom. “Not gonna happen because I want to be in you so bad.”

You keep sucking but are pulled up on your feet and thrown on the bed a second later. When you get on all fours, Minho pulls your swimming suit down your ass, exposing your soaking cunt to him. “So fucking horny today,” he mumbles, sticking a finger inside of you, both of you hissing when it just slides in. It gets drenched on the first try, and you can almost hear it move. “Aw, did Chris turn you on that much?”

“Stop talking about him,” you tell the man who now has two fingers up your pussy and is scissoring you open with them. “He didn't have his dick between my legs for half of the day, did he?”

Minho chuckles and puts the condom on. While he does that, he leans in and starts licking you up and down, careful to suck and slurp and make as much noise as possible to get you to moan and melt. “Minho, please,” is all you need to say to get him to pull away and put his dick in you.

You moan when you feel the stretch, the familiar burn of the dick you know every inch of, the slight stinging and overwhelming feeling of relief when something hard finally touches your walls. “Minho!”

“Finally,” he grunts to himself and starts moving, hips smacking into yours from the get-go. “So good—”

Minho keeps fucking you roughly, both of you unable to speak. There's not much you can tell him when he's giving you exactly what you want—good sex, the type that leaves you breathless. Each thrust fills you up with pleasure, makes your toes curl, makes you moan and grunt. Even though he seems to be more put together than you, Minho is grunting just as much. “So tight,” he tells you in between thrusts. “Tight little cunt… Wet just for me.”

“Yes, Minho… Fuck… Just for you.”

You've missed fucking him this way, missed having his hands on you like this, grabbing any body part they can reach while his hips push into yours from behind roughly. Minho still knows just how much you can take without it getting painful.

You're tipsy and horny, which means you are more than fine with rough sex, and he's delivering—every move is sharp and quick, cock buried inside of you deeply, thighs smacking into yours.

Being emotional all day made you drink, and that made you want to be close to Minho, which is why you're now fully enjoying the experience. “Harder, Minho, please!”

“Harder?” He giggles, sounding out of breath. “You really need a good fuck, huh?”

“Just had one recently,” you manage to mumble, still not over the sex you two had before coming here, the time that made you think of him more.

Minho laughs happily and smacks your ass. “Sure you can take it harder?” he checks again, hands now on your waist.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I can't think of anything else.” A simple plea, one that he's heard from you many times before and always managed to deliver. “I don't want to think… Just want you.”

It's true. Right now, you don't care about Chris or the wedding or Jisung or anyone else—all you want is to get these frustrations out through sex with Minho. You wish he was on top of you so you could look at him, kiss him, so he could see what he's doing to you.

“Then get comfortable and hold on tight,” your ex instructs you gently and waits for you to grip the sheets and spread your legs to find a stable position, one that won't have you lurching forward with every thrust.

When you do, his cock makes you see stars. It's kind of funny how Minho's cock isn't anything special, technically speaking. There are bigger, longer, thicker dicks out there, yet his always manages to rub your g-spot, always makes your eyes water because it feels so deep, always pries your walls open, no matter how much they clench around it.

“Fuck yes, just like that,” he hums to himself, probably enjoying the view on top of the feeling of being in you.

He pushes into you hard with a loud smack which almost throws you forward and onto the bed. But, Minho's strong hands are holding you just below the waist, fingers digging into the skin, so he pulls you back onto his cock instantly. It's just back and forth, his dick rubbing your walls quickly, beautifully.

“Mhm, baby.” A smack of his hips makes you moan. “Such a good dick.” Smack. Your toes curl, pussy dripping for him. “Want to have it all the time.” Smack, smack, smack.

“Yeah? Want to let me fuck whenever?” Minho's voice is so low you just know he's seconds away from grunting and coming if he lets himself.

You hum again, trying to clench around him, but it's hard to do that when he's pistoning into you. Smack, smack, smack, the sound so delicious you want your ex to keep going forever.

“Yeah, just you—” Smack, smack. “It's your pussy anyway.”

Smack, smack, smack until you can't say a thing anymore because you're too busy crying out from pleasure, all because you've told him something he loves hearing. Minho has never been jealous or possessive—you've found out to what extent just recently—but when you two slept together or fooled around, he loved hearing you say that you were his, that your body was his, that he could have it whenever he felt like it. If the timing was right, hearing you were his could make him blow unexpectedly.

You know these little things about him just like he does about you. So, you're not surprised in the slightest that he knows exactly how to move to make you scream. You're not surprised by your constant moaning, by the fact your mouth is open and you're drooling over his bed, by the fact you're dripping wet. The whole hotel can probably hear you getting fucked stupid, but you don't care about any of that.

“Take dick so well,” you hear him mutter, voice laced with pleasure, “my sweet little pussy… Mine,” smack, “mine,” smack, “mine! Right?”

“Yes! Yours, baby—”

“Only I get to make a mess out of it, hm?”

Everything he says goes straight to your head, makes you moan louder, makes you relax your muscles and enjoy the throbbing cock inside of you. You feel wet and swollen but so satisfied at the same time, even if you haven't come yet—it's fast approaching, your abs clenching and releasing.

“Yes, Minho, only you,” you agree, nodding even though your head is pressed into the mattress and he can't even see it. “Please, don't stop, baby— Please, just—fuck!—keep going!”

Minho knows you well so he recognizes all the signs of you getting fucked out of your mind, of you getting lost in pleasure, on the brink of coming.

“You're gonna come like this, pretty?” Minho sounds surprised because you find it easier to come with clitoral stimulation. Today, it doesn't seem necessary.

“Yes, yes, just move—”

He hums happily, clearly happy about the fact you’re enjoying this more than he expected you to. Minho recovers quickly and keeps muttering at you, hissing every now and then,“Let me feel you come, come on. Show me how much you wanted this dick…”

It's stupid that those are the words that get you going, but that's what happens. You come around Minho’s cock, letting your shoulders collapse on the mattress, fingers gnawing at the sheets while he keeps pistoning into you.

“Yeah, baby, just like that, squeeze it hard,” he tells you through hard thrusts and gritted teeth. “Never want to pull out.”

While you are trying to calm down, Minho keeps fucking you, but his hand reaches for you and pets your head as he leans over so he can look at you. “Good fucking girl… So good. Came so hard for me, huh?”

“Mhm,” you hum in agreement, practically purring with pleasure—his cock is so satisfying, but his touch is making you want to melt. You're not sure how he manages to fuck so hard and be so gentle at the same time, but that's just a Minho thing, one that other men in your life haven't been able to figure out. “Just for you. You make me come so hard every time, Minho…”

You suddenly realize that you want to look at him. Sex is great either way—at least with Minho—but looking at him makes it even better. So, you tell him to stop which makes him freeze in place and stay buried inside of you. You shimmy your hips until his cock falls out of you and then you turn around to face him, still on your knees. “Lie down, handsome.”

“What for?” Minho asks, grinning at you as you lean in and wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a long, wet, horny kiss.

“Let me fuck you,” you say sweetly, pulling him onto the bed.

Minho lets you push him around, make him lie on the bed, and straddle him—all with a smirk on his face. The smirk turns into a pleasure-filled frown when you sit down on his cock and clamp around it hard, fingers dragging across his chest, leaving red marks in their wake. “Want to see all the pretty faces this pussy makes you pull,” you tell him teasingly, knowing it will fuck with him. “So fucking pretty.”

Minho groans loudly and spreads his legs, allowing you to sit onto his cock comfortably and start moving forward and back, gently swaying your hips. “I love it when you act like that…”

“Like what?” you ask even though you know what he means. You reach back and grab his balls, squeezing and rolling them around your palm, which makes Minho’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Like you know how fucking good you are at this, pretty,” he suggests, licking his lips, and his words make you ride him harder, make you want to rub all over him until he comes hard for you. “Because you really are.”

“Maybe I do,” you tease, biting your lip and starting to move even faster, acting like you're in a porn video made just for the guy lying under you. You know what he likes and have no problem giving it to him.

Minho groans and asks, “Do you say things like that to other men?” His hands move to your tits and squeeze them, but his eyes stay focused on your face.

You grimace at the idea of being this open with anyone else and start moving your hips in circles instead, getting to feel him rub you in a new way.

“Didn't think so,” your ex grins, realizing he still knows you well.

“I can't be this open with anyone… That's why I love fucking you, Minho.” By this point, you're moving faster, squeezing him with every circle of your hips.

This keeps him grunting, and he closes his eyes, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. “Why is that?”

“You've fucked me more times than I can count… You've licked and sucked every inch of me.” You mean every word of it. You two have done it all and there’s just no shame involved, no embarrassment about asking for something you want—things just happen, and nothing seems out of place.

Minho's eyes snap open and he smirks at you. “And I'd do it again. Want you to sit on my face for hours.”

You giggle, starting to move up and down while your hand moves to his lips. A finger pushes inside his mouth, and Minho lets you run it across his tongue. “See? You're a slut for me, so I don't mind being one for you. In fact, I love that I can act as slutty as I want just for you. I can tell you all the nasty things you need to hear to blow your load, baby.”

His hips jolt upwards into you, making you hiss. You pull your finger out of his mouth and bring it down to your nipple, wetting it, enjoying the way his eyes follow your every move.

“Oh my God, keep going,” Minho urges, hands grabbing your ass, eyes looking up at you. “You just get hotter and hotter. When we first met, you couldn't even say cunt without blushing.”

You laugh at that, even though you'd still have a hard time saying it in front of some guy you barely know. Minho is a whole different story—he taught you everything, anyway. “That's true… But now I can tell you I want your tongue up my cunt before you fuck it hard and shoot your load into it.” Minho moans so loud and long you think he's filling the condom up. “You like me better that way, don't you?”

Minho smacks your tit before he pinches your nipple somewhat softly. “I like you either way, pretty. Liked you when you needed the lights turned off to fuck me, like you now that you can ride me completely naked in broad daylight and act like a dirty slut.”

You think you could come just from the things he's saying and the way he's looking at you, but you're focused on his pleasure alone, which is why you're moving fast, careful to sit on his cock fully. “That's because in either case, I end up fucking you.”

Minho nods happily, his face getting sweaty and red, and you think he’s never looked hotter than he does now. “More than that, but that will do,” he says, not caring to explain further. “Just a bit more, pretty… I’m close.”

“Yeah?” You chuckle and start moving faster, happy to hear Minho is enjoying it as much as you are. “Gonna come for me, baby?”

You know the pet name does things to him. Even if you didn’t, it would be obvious from the way his hands squeeze your tits or how his eyes squint as he smirks. “Mhm… Wish I could do it in you.”

“I know you do,” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him, sticking your tongue out to tease his lips. It gets Minho to chase you, which makes you giggle again, hips still smacking onto his. “You wish you could finish inside me every time.”

His compliments and looks are getting to your head, making you feel overly confident, making you feel like you're both crazy about each other, which is why you’re saying all these things. You don’t know if Minho wishes he could come inside of you today, let alone every time, but you’re not thinking straight.

However, your ex seems to be on the same page because he agrees with you. “That's because I know you get a little stupid when someone makes you come hard. You'd let me do whatever I wanted after a good fuck,” he says, making a good point. You were always so whipped for the guy, willing to try whatever he wanted after he’d make you come time and time again. “You’d definitely let me fill you up.”

“So confident,” you chuckle and lean in again, whispering, “I mean, you have every reason to be, but still… Confident.”

Minho scoffs and grabs your waist, pulls you onto his torso. Then, he flips over with you on top of him, getting you on your back with his dick still in you. The sudden change makes you even hornier, especially since he is taking control and getting on top and putting an end to your teasing, which means he is almost ready to come.

“Do I need to teach you a lesson again?” Minho grunts against your lips but doesn’t give you the kiss you lean in for. “Is that what you want?”

Your pussy clenches at the idea of Minho's lessons—they always ended with both of you satisfied in every way possible. “No. Just want to see you come for me… Want to make you feel good, baby… Show you how much I like you fucking me.”

Your admission makes Minho go hard on you, hips moving back and slamming into you, cock entering you fully, pussy squelching with every thrust. “Yeah? Whose is it?”

You wrap your arms and legs around your ex and pull him into your frame, his hips still crashing into yours. “It’s your pussy, Minho, just yours—”

“Just mine, hm?” He sounds elated when he whispers the words, eyes zeroing in on your expression as you grimace and grunt. He’s fucking you so hard you can’t even tease anymore, even though you want to. Minho always enjoys teasing, but you’re too fucking horny for it.

“Only you get to fuck it like this.” It's not a lie—you never have sex like this, never have this much fun, never want to let a man do whatever he wants to you—unless you're with him.

“Shit, pretty, you're so fucking hot,” he mumbles before burying his head in the crook of your neck, and you realize he’s done for. “I want to fill up your cunt just once… Show you it's really mine.”

The idea sounds so good you want to let him do it. If there's a guy you trust completely, it's Minho. But, not today. “Maybe I'll let you sometime… After you fuck me stupid,” you suggest, to which he nods against your skin and keeps grunting lowly, cock still entering you at a steady pace. “You're right, you're so good I’d let you do whatever, baby, you have no idea…”

At this point, his thrusts are shallow, and you know he's about to come. Instead of filling the condom up, Minho pulls out while panting a hasty, “Can I do it all over you?” The condom gets thrown to the side.

You nod and spread your legs wide while grabbing your tits for him, sticking your tongue out. It's definitely one of your sluttiest moments, but it's also one of the hottest ones. Having a guy as handsome as Minho kneel over you with his thick dick in hand, jerking himself off for you, is a whole experience in itself. “Pretty, fuck!” he moans, eyes rolling back, lip caught between his teeth. “Fuck, I’ll—ahhh!”

Suddenly, cum sprays all over you, from pubic bone to neck, and you keep talking for him, knowing that’s what Minho needs. “Yeah, baby, give it to me… Want your cum all over me. Show me whose is it.”

You're bucking your hips into nothing, moaning while you watch him jerk off onto you, and you kind of don’t want it to end. Eventually, it does, when there’s nothing he can squeeze out of his dick, when all the cum has landed on your body, painting it white. When he's done, Minho collapses next to you, head sweaty, hair stuck to his face, breathing heavily.

You lie there for a while, not feeling strong enough to get up and clean yourself up—your entire body is still sore and turned on, buzzing with pleasure, your mind processing what has just happened. Minho seems to be on the same wavelength, except his hand is on you and he's rubbing cum all over your tits and stomach, playing with it absentmindedly. It all feels so warm and welcoming, familiar, and you wonder why.

So, you ask, “Minho, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot, pretty,” he says, sounding half asleep, as always after an orgasm. His eyes are closed, but he’s still touching you softly.

“Why did you decide to date me back then? You never— You didn't date that much before me.” You’re not sure why this is important to you, but you want to know. All the talk about your past made you wonder about that too, about how you never quite understood why he chose you, about how he was always a bit too good for you.

“Uhm…” Your ex hums while he thinks about your question, pointer finger dragging his cum over your nipple, making it pebble again. “I did date before you, but never like that. I guess you made me feel things other people didn't.”

“Like what?” Your voice quivers for no reason—you’re not afraid or nervous or tired. Maybe it’s the old insecurities creeping back up now that you’re talking about you two, about the only real relationship you’ve had. He’s definitely the only man you’ve loved like that.

“Like… You cared about me. I fucked around a lot, but I never really had someone who cared the way you did, checked up on me, was gentle with me. So I started caring for you and there was no way back, I guess.” Minho makes it sound so easy, as always, and it sounds natural. You two just cared for each other, and that made him want to be with you.

“I did care about you a lot,” you admit, years too late.

“I know you did,” he says and gives your tit a light squeeze, which would make you chuckle if you weren’t lost in all the thoughts about your relationship. “I did too.”

You don’t say anything for a while, but a question has been bothering you ever since you reconnected with Minho, ever since he walked into that bar and made you think of all the good times. “Do you think it's normal to have these feelings years after it ended?”

“Are you talking about Chr—”

You cut him off quickly, not even wanting to think about the guy while you’re lying in your ex’s bed naked, covered in his cum, which he’s dragging around your tits with his fingers. Not a good time for thoughts about the groom. “Us. Me.”

Minho sighs and rolls over on his back, joining you in staring at the ceiling. You miss the warmth of his hand on your chest but don’t say a thing. “I… I don't know. Do other people go through it?”

“Do you?” That’s what you’re more interested in here—fuck other people and how they feel.

“Me? Of course I do. You— I… I do, with you.”

You turn to the side to face Minho because you can’t not look at him after he’s admitted to that. He looks almost angelic with his hair all wet from sweat, his cheeks flushed with color, plush lips slightly open.

When you two look at each other, your ex smiles. “Pretty, you're drunk and sad that he's getting married, and we've just had some… fucking amazing sex. You'll feel a lot of things. Don't get carried away.”

It's a warning that says don't care about me, we're just exes who are fucking. And it’s true. One ex is here to win someone else over and the other has never gotten closure, which led you to his bed. That's all there is to it, and Minho has spelled it out for you.

if you want to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee here and let me know what you think about it here. thank you! ♡

Tags

i’m so excited i already know this is gonna be good why am i so late

643 notes View Post

hyukastuffies

2 years ago

what the hell are we?

leeknow x female reader

warning(s): slight smut/nsfw, slight angst, drinking alcohol, arguing, swearing/foul language

summary: fucking leeknow with no strings attached was harder than you thought I’d be

romantic trope: fuck buddies to lovers

MINORS DNI

please enjoy!

“that was quick.” you break the irritating silence.

“I got somewhere to be.” the man before you replies coldly. tugging his shirt over his broad shoulders.

you lift your hips up and pull your shorts over yourself. “okay, where?” you stand up.

“it doesn’t matter-“

“you question me when I go out,” you interrupt, already annoyed at where this was going.

“so, where are you going?”

he scoffs, adjusting his pants. “I’ve been thinking about something,”

you shrug, patience growing thin.

“I met someone, a few nights ago. a girl, actually. and she made me feel things.”

“feel things? feel what minho?”

“like I don’t need this, I deserve a real relationship. not whatever this is.” he points a finger between the two of you.

“whatever this is—what the fuck?”

“don’t even. this is—was nothing but sex,”

you hold back. wanting desperately to protest, to fight back.

“what? did you catch feelings?” he finishes with a harsh question. not knowing his words just stabbed you in the heart.

“no.” you lie through your teeth.

you caught feelings for minho long ago. specifically the night he was inside of you, making you feel good per usual. and he did the unexpected.

he whispered in your ear that he loves you.

he loves you.

so what he was telling you now, felt like a bullet to the heart.

“I’ll be going, then. she gets off about this time.” he glances at the watch on his wrist.

“unbelievable.” you whisper. minho looks back at you, but you shake it off.

“m’sorry. we can still be friends you know?” minho attempts to lighten the mood, nudging you with his arm.

“minho, get the fuck out.” you snap. clamping your hands on both his shoulders and turning him around. you push him towards the door, watching as he protest.

“hey!—you really wanna end things this way?”

“I don’t give a fuck how things end, get the fuck out.” you take your hand off of his shoulder to unlock and swing the door open. pushing him out and slamming the door in his face.

you pause for a couple of seconds, expecting some reaction out of him. when you heard nothing, you took a few steps away from the door. your heart heavy. leaving the door, you walked back into your apartment. slumping down on your bed. inhaling and exhaling in hopes to soothe the awful feeling.

“fuckkk me.” you roll over to grab your phone, hoping social media would squeeze the sadness out of you.

when your close friend, jisung’s face popped up on your screen. you were looking forward to the social media soothe.

you pick up, pressing your phone on your ear.

“hello?”

“what’s up baby!” his voice loud enough to make your ears ring. he almost sounds drunk.

“what do you want, ji?”

“guess who’s having a party tonight!”

“you.” you sigh.

“how’d you know?” you could hear his pout.

“I don’t know—maybe because you have one always every night.” you laugh,

“I do not. are you coming though?”

you take a deep breath, “no, I’m not really in the mood.”

“why? what happened?”

“leeknow happened.”

you hear jisung shift, “what did he do?”

“he found someone, and told me after, after a fuck session.”

“oh, that’s fucked up. well, I mean there’s plenty of dicks in this world what’s so great about—“

“I don’t just like his dick, jisung. I like him. that asshole made me fall for him.”

jisung goes quiet for a few seconds, “well, I’m really sorry but—I need you at this party. your my sister. maybe you’ll meet someone better than him, you’re beautiful.”

you exhale, “fine. I’ll go.” annoyed at how you could never say no to precious jisung.

“good, great. thank you.”

“bye.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, ji.”

you pull your phone away from your ear, hanging up the call with a groan.

you drop your phone down near your head, staring at the ceiling blankly. you feel your eyes grow heavy and sleep take over you.

you don’t know how long you slept, but you know you did long enough for jisung’s party to be starting in an hour.

you don’t want to go at all, you want to stay in your bed and do nothing. absolutely nothing.

but if you don’t show up, your squirrel-like friend will be destroyed. so what choice do you have?

you enter the bathroom, flicking on the light.

you lean down and open the small drawer guarding all your makeup. you pull a black bag out and shut the drawer with your knee.

you retrieve your usual makeup products from the bag.

you decide to go for a darkish look, something sexy. you start painting your face, brushes gliding across your skin.

you feel a wave of satisfaction, looking up to glare at the girl in front of you, feeling on top of the world.

you exit the bathroom, a form fitting black-dress already sitting pretty on the edge of your bed. waiting for you to slide your curves in it.

you retrieve a brush from your nightstand, brushing your hair until you were happy with the outcome. you’re very happy, your hair finally worked with you, not against.

you walk over to the bed, eyeing the dress again. wondering if you can pull it off.

“fuck it.” you strip, yanking your clothes off and tossing them across the room. you slide the dress over your legs first, then your ass, then the rest of your body.

you strut to the bathroom, almost gasping at your own reflection. you look—badass. and it makes you want to go out and buy a motorcycle, a leather jacket, and a badass helmet. you laugh.

“shit.” you inspect your body.

maybe you will forget about leeknow, maybe you’ll find someone new.

“thank you for the ride, changbin.” you take his hand as he helps you out of his car. he holds the small of your back, and it makes you feel things but you shake it off. he’s a good friend of jisung’s, though, you and him never really got to properly meet, he came across really sweet.

“no problem, y/n.” he gently pushes you infront of him, wanting you to stay in his sight.

you walk through the door, changbin follows behind you. the large house reeking of alcohol and sex, classic jisung party. the house is full of people, the music louder than your thoughts. different types of conversations, unfamiliar voices, glances, stares.

‘this is a party alright’. you pout, lost in thought.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink, you coming?” changbin interrupts your train of thought.

“I’m gonna go look for jisung, then I’ll meet you back here.”

changbin nods, disappearing into the crowd.

you brush past the unfamiliar people, making your way up jisung’s stairs. glad you were at least familiar with his house. you sigh, strutting past a couple eating eachothers faces off. cringing as the wet sounds fade.

you reach jisung’s room, feeling relieved it was him sitting on the bed, not a couple fucking.

“jisunggg.” you drag, reaching him and kneeling infront of him. he slowly looks up, his low eyes and red cheeks informing you that he was shit—faced drunk. you grab his chin, forcing him to look you in the eyes.

“are you seriously drunk already?” you lift your free hand to push his hair out of his face.

“who’s drunk?—I’m not drunk—I’m fucking, yeah. I’m fucking good.” he stammers. his breath reeking of alcohol.

“okay, come on. lay down.” you push him down by his shoulders. you grab a small garbage can from the corner of his room, placing it beside his bed, right near his head just in case he has to puke.

“heyyy—I, hey, who said I wanted to sle—sleep?”

“me and those eyes of yours, lay back.” you pull his shoes off of his feet.

“if you need to throw up, there’s a trash can right here.”

“mmh.”

“you know what—where’s chan? is he here?” you question and jisung nods sloppily.

“he’s in the guest bedroom—I think.” he giggles, pulling his knees up to his stomach, curling up into a ball.

“good, he needs to watch after you.” you storm out of the room, slowly twisting the doorknob to the guest room. you swing the door open, thankfully it’s chan.

he turns to you, gaze softening when he realizes it’s you. “y/n.” he walks over to you, pulling you in a hug.

you wrap your arms around him, “I’d love to hug you longer but, jisung’s a bit of a mess right now.”

“Is he drunk?”

“yeah.”

chan chuckles, “of course, I gotchu.”

you pull away. “I can watch him, I don’t wanna stop you from—“

“y/n, it’s fine. I got it.” he reassures. running his hand up and down your arm.

“thank you.” you smile. chan shifts past you and into jisung’s room.

you thank chan once more in your head. making your way back to changbin as promised. he’s leaned against the kitchen counter. buff arms fixing himself a drink. “hey.”

he turns to you, “finally, here.” he hands you a cup.

“sorry, I had to get chan to watch jisung. he’s all over the place.” you take the drink from his hands.

you take a sip of the drink, eyes squinting at the overly sour, burning taste.

“I saw minho, he asked if you were here.”

you choke, changbin’s hand goes to your back in an instant. “why?”

“what do you mean why? aren’t you guys like—friends with benefits or something?”

“he just ended things this morning.”

changbin slowly nodds. “looks like he’s not over you, then.”

“he found someone new, he told me.”

“Is that her?” changbin points to jisung’s couch and your eyes follow his finger. it’s minho, manspreading with some brunette in his lap. and your heart drops to your ass.

“well, shit.” you can’t look away, even with changbin grabbing your jaw to force you.

“hey, fuck it. look at me,” you turn your attention towards him, but the image still flashes in your mind.

“it’s okay, y/n.”

you feel your throat closing at his words.

“no it’s not changbin, how can he—how can he make someone fall in love with him and just leave like that? how can he tell someone he loves them and just turn around and leave them for somebody else?—it’s not fair!” you slam your cup down, the liquor slashing you in the face. you cover your face with your hands, sobs escaping your lips.

you hate how vulnerable you feel right now. you hate how minho is the one doing this to you.

your heart began to hammer, “how come I fell in love and he didn’t?” you sniffle in between words.

changbin turned you away from everyone, not wanting anyone to see your hurt. he grabs the sides of your face and wipes your tears with his thumbs.

“do you want to go?” changbin’s voice small and soft.

“please.”

“call me if you need anything!” changbin shouts from his car. you wave him goodbye, smiling at the genuine concern.

he watches you enter your apartment. making sure you get in safely before driving off.

you enter your apartment, kicking off your heels. you huff, entering the bathroom.

you stare at yourself in the stained mirror. “what does she have that I don’t?” you question, eyeing your body for the second time tonight. way less confident than before.

your phone vibrates in your hand, pulling you back to reality. you lift your hand up, gasping at the name across your screen.

lee minho.

you raise your eyebrows, wondering what the hell he could want.

you pick up, “what.”

“come outside.”

“what—“

“hurry, bye.” he hangs up.

you groan, making your way to the front door. when you swing the door open, you meet eyes with minho.

swaying back and forth at your doorstep. he lifts an eyebrow. “it’s a little cold, can I come in?”

“why are you here? where’s your girlfriend?” you cross your arms, blocking any empty spaces he could slide in through.

“we got in a fight.”

you scoff, “so you come back because you’re fighting? not because you want to apologize?”

“no—can we take this inside?” he suggests,

“you have five minutes.” you move, allowing the man in. you shut the door behind him.

he walks to your kitchen counter, pulling a chair back and lowering himself down on it with a groan. you follow, settling in the seat beside him. “okay, listen. me and her fought because I wanted to follow you out, I saw you at the party. I saw you, I saw you cry. and my first instinct was to follow you, make sure you were okay. and she got angry,”

he took a deep breath, “and we started arguing, and I ended up, bringing you up.” he finishes.

“oh god. what did you say.”

he fixed his gaze on you. “I said I should’ve stayed with y/n, I told her that you were better.”

“minho—“

“but she confessed to me. she told me she only wanted sex out of me. and I thought of us, what I said to you. I told you that there was nothing between us, that it was only sex. I didn’t mean that, y/n. I just—she offered to give me a real relationship, I thought you didn’t want a relationship with me, I thought being with her would make me stop hurting.”

“I did, I do.” you look down at your hands. too afraid to look him in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” minho turns your face towards his with his index finger.

you move closer to him. “you made a mistake leeknow, we all do. I forgive you.”

“I’m done,” he stands, walking to stand in between your legs. “that friends with benefits thing is done. I want to be more than that.”

you place your hands on his hips, “what do you want to be?”

he leans down, smashing his lips on yours. his teeth tug at your lower lip, his tongue sweeps in your mouth, leaving you breathless as he pulls away, allowing you a single gasp before slating his mouth over yours again.

you feel his body stiffen as you grip the sides of his belt, pulling yourself against him. far from patient with your kiss.

its demanding, forceful, you slide your tongue against his lips to draw it between your teeth,

swallowing the small surprised moan it snatches from him.

he pulls away, smirking. “I think you know what I want to be. will you be my girlfriend?”

“I will be your girlfriend.” you stand up and impatiently tug him towards your room.

448 notes View Post

hyukastuffies

2 years ago

Okay i am literally so speechless rn with this. Ugh the way at first we were annoyed with Cato for "stealing" chan's body and then how we learn to love the character's chemistry with chan. AND THEN FOR IT TO BE RIPPED AWAY?? I love this so much and i will not stop thinking about this EVERRR. This is my new favorite work because it has so many different aspects in it. The friendship and sacrifice is what pulled at my heart though🥹 This is such a great story and i am not religious AT ALL but you made me appreciate the story<3

— from eden

❝ all my life i've been heading for hell, but never had i thought i'd drag you down as well. ❞

synopsis: god created adam & eve… and then eve fell in love with the snake in her garden.

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

genres: angst, smut, god!au, non idol!au, college!au, past lives, soul bonds

word count: 18.3k

warnings: 18+, religious themes/references, unprotected sex (practice safe sex pls), cheating, marking, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), light corruption kink (reader is a virgin), chan cums inside, slight major character death but he lives don’t worry!

m.list

playlist

a/n: the creation story is just a summary of the actual verse or wtv, but the adam & eve story is not the original. this fic's version of "God" is not the version of God that christians or other religions worship. it is simply my take on religion & spirituality. greek mythology and christianity are kind of intertwined here, but it is not a reflection of the actual religions or mythologies that the original stories are from, so with that being said, enjoy! & thank u @yeonjunszn for helping me & betaing for me 🫶🏻 love u (gay) and forever appreciate u. if u didn’t help i’m sure i would have died (real). also! new drinking game ! take a shot whenever Chan tells Cato to shut up!

❝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, and Eve 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 know you by yourselves. “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.”

Chan smiles. “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 see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling.

“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.

“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, finally looking up at his creator through his bangs. “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.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀──────

Chan wakes up in a hospital room.

Tags

GIRL READ THIS RIGHT DAMN NOW

1K notes View Post

hyukastuffies

2 years ago

Oh almighty one, may we be spared some jeongin links? 🙇🏻‍♀️❤️

Jeongin Hard Thoughts Visualizers

Jeongin fucking you with his long, perfect cock and playing with your clit always makes you shake and writhe under him <3

You're so fucking needy. Jeongin thought this as he pulled his cock from you and shot his cum all over your pretty skirt. His favorite one. The one you decided to wear today solely based on the fact that you wanted to get fucked today. Hard.

Hello there:) Luckily for you i was feeling generous today and spared you some links ;) I hope this is enough<3

If you like my content and would like to support me you can tip me! Or just like my post! That works too.<3

Tags

skz stray kids smut skz smut kpop smut skz i.n skz jeongin i.n hard thoughts i.n smut skz hard thoughts skz hard hours kpop hard hours kpopsmut kpop porn elle🌱loves💌asks elles🌱links jeongin hard hours i.n hard hours jeongin hard thoughts

100 notes View Post

hyukastuffies

2 years ago

Just found this acc and I’m so happy I did, I think I’m obsessed. And I had to ask — is this like a side of tumblr that I didn’t know about? Could you point me to other accounts like yours? Maybe with gg idols 🥺

(tho I’m not even a bg stan and I find your content so hot so any recommendations accepted)

I would love to help you but i actually know of no accounts that mainly do links and that's why I started this account! Some writers have anons who ask questions with prn links but that's all i really know! I'll try to incorporate more gg idols and do my research ! If you have any recommendations don't be shy to ask<3

9 notes View Post

hyukastuffies

2 years ago

I promise I'm not ignoring your asks. <3 When i updated the app a few weeks ago most of my asks deleted 😭 If you still want to request links they're always open though it may take me time<3

2 notes View Post

hyukastuffies

2 years ago

! lee minho fic recommendation ¡

s = smut , f = fluff , a = angst

neighbour minho and injured kitty [f] by @caseiloveu

word count: 1.8k

when he’s in a bad mood all he needs is you [f] by @rachalixie

zipper (part 1) [s,f] by @tasteleeknow

word count: 4.3k

summary: when your boyfriend asks you what you want for your birthday, only one thing comes to mind. you want to dress him in an outfit of your choosing

Keep reading

754 notes View Post

hyukastuffies

3 years ago

THIS IS A MASTERPIECE OML

Dangerous

pairing: mafia boss!hyunjin x mafia boss!fem!reader

genre: angst, smut (minors dni!), enemy au

words: 4.1k

warnings: dom!hyunjin, sub!reader, there is a gun present at the beginning, mentions of death, angst, mild violence, making out, choking, hair pulling, degradation, oral sex (m&f receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, a tad bit of a crying kink, use of the color system, hyunjin gets a little rough, unprotected sex (you know better), hate sex, multiple positions, mild biting kink, creampie, aftercare, y/n is a thief hehe, there’s probably more but I forgot lol

a/n: yes, this was definitely inspired by the venom music video. no, I make no apologies, lol. there are some darker themes in this one, what with them being in gangs, so readers please beware! I hope y’all enjoy this absolute filth, please like and/or reblog if you liked it! - j

You weren’t quite sure how you’d managed to get yourself in this situation.

It was safe to say, the barrel of a gun inches from your temple was not how you intended to spend your Saturday night.

“I knew you were a stupid bitch, but this is a new low for you.”

You rolled your eyes at the voice speaking lowly in your ear. Despite yourself, chills erupted over your skin. Apparently some habits couldn’t be easily broken.

You slowly turned your head so you could look at the owner of that delicious voice, completely ignoring the gun still leveled at your head.

And there he was. Still blond, even after all these months, his hair gently curling around his face. His expression was cold, but there was a fire in his eyes that was all too familiar to you.

Hwang Hyunjin.

The leader of the biggest gang in your city, its power and legacy equal only to your own.

You remembered idly what it had once been like to love that face. Star-crossed lovers, the crown prince and princess of rival gangs intent on destroying one another.

But that was before.

Now you were king and queen of rival empires, your quest for violence stained by a need for revenge.

You took pleasure in the irritation that overtook his face the longer you ignored his insult. He could call you a stupid bitch all he wanted—you both knew it was a lie and a cheap shot.

“Why are you in my club?” Hyunjin said through clenched teeth.

You smiled sweetly. “Didn’t know it was yours. Just came to get my rocks off.”

He finally pressed the gun against your temple. You leaned into it, invigorated by the cold metal on your too-warm skin. Hyunjin barked a laugh.

“Bullshit. Last time you were here—” he cut himself off and you smiled viciously.

“Last time I was here… what? You mean the night your father put a bullet in mine?”

Hyunjin winced. The night was a sore topic for more than just you, apparently.

It was the night everything changed. When your father’s life left this world, so did any fantasy of running away with the man now holding a gun to your head. Hyunjin had tried to resist when you broke things off, but then his own father had died and he’d been forced to rise to the occasion.

You knew he blamed you for his father’s death. He assumed you’d put a hit on the elder Hwang as revenge. In your anger, you never saw the need to correct his assumption. It was easier to let him hate you.

“I don’t have to stand here and entertain this.” Hyunjin’s long index finger flexed on the trigger. “Why are you really here?”

“Came to say hi.”

You’d talk him in circles all night if you had to. This mission was too important to compromise.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to stomach coming back to this club, but the forged tax documents laying in the next room took priority over your trauma. Those alone would pay off all the debt your father had accumulated over his reign and then some. You could pay for your sibling’s college tuition; pay off your own medical bills from when you’d been shot last year; certainly a month-long vacation to Fiji with whatever was left over.

If you wanted to get technical about it, the documents were worth over a hundred million dollars.

A bead of sweat trickled along your hairline, Hyunjin’s eyes tracking it as it slid down your face. He swallowed.

You were affecting him, then. Good. You looked incredible tonight, so it was nice to see the black dress you’d squeezed yourself into was paying off.

Hyunjin smiled humorlessly, the expression doing more to bare his teeth at you than anything else. Alarm bells went off in your head.

“Go ahead, Changbin.”

You tried to turn and run at hearing the name of Hyunjin’s ruthless bodyguard, but you made it all of two steps before something hard hit the back of your head and the world went dark.

When you woke, you were curled on your side in what had to be the most comfortable bed in existence.

You shot into a sitting position, your face immediately twisting into a grimace at the sharp pain on the back of your head. God, how hard did Changbin hit you? You made a mental note to return the favor next time you saw him.

Rubbing the back of your skull, you cautiously examined your surroundings.

You were beneath the covers in a large four-poster bed, the black sheets distractingly soft against your skin. The room was dim, lit only by a lamp on the bedside table and soft moonlight filtering through the curtains. It looked like it had been decorated by a vampire—all dark reds and blacks and gothic furniture pieces.

Your evaluation of the room screeched to a halt when you saw a shadowed figure sitting in the armchair across from the bed.

“Where am I?” You were thankful that your voice still sounded strong. Showing weakness here was a death sentence.

“My bedroom.” Hyunjin leaned forward in his chair so he could prop his elbows on his knees. He still looked perfect, much to your annoyance. “That’s right, I forgot. You betrayed me before I moved in.”

That was bitterness in his tone. You rolled your eyes. “And why am I in your bedroom?”

“Because Han and Lee Know wanted to kill you for trespassing and they can’t reach you here.”

Your heart twinged at hearing the names of your old friends. You hadn’t allowed yourself to miss them in a very long time. Hearing that they wanted to kill you hurt your feelings more than you wanted to admit.

“Why didn’t you listen?” You asked roughly.

Hyunjin’s face was unreadable. Perfectly blank, just like the trained killer his father made him to be.

“Because you never told me why you trespassed in the first place.”

Your hands clenched into fists on the lush comforter still over your legs. “I won’t tell you. You might as well just kill me and get it over with.”

Finally, anger passed over his stoic expression. “You’d rather die than tell me why you’re here?”

“Yes.”

“Good to see you’re still recklessly stubborn.”

Your eyes flashed. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know everything about you.” Hyunjin stood, taking the time to stretch his lean muscles before he stalked towards the bed. You shrank back against the pillows, some of your bravado vanishing when he towered over you. “I’ve been keeping track of you, you know. I’d be a fool not to know what my enemy is doing with her time.”

Your chest hurt at his use of the word enemy, but he was right. At this point, you had been enemies for longer than you'd been lovers.

You gazed up at him indignantly, making sure to channel as much hatred into your expression as you could. Hyunjin’s eyes narrowed.

Before you could move away, he grasped your chin roughly in his hand and turned your head from side to side. Searching for injuries, you guessed.

“Still fretting over my health?” You rasped.

Hyunjin released you swiftly. “No. I don’t want you to bleed all over my pillows.”

You didn’t want to think too hard on the fact that you were laying in Hyunjin’s bed. Again. It had been a long time since you’d been in his sheets, but they still smelled exactly as you remembered them. Sweet and fresh and just a little bit floral.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood, trying to quickly edge your way around him. You needed to get out of this room. Every second you spent in here was a year off your life.

Hyunjin caught you around the waist, effortlessly stopping you. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Back to my family. They’ll be wondering where I am by now.”

“You think you can attempt to steal from me and I’ll just let you go?” He chuckled patronizingly.

“So you do know why I was at the club.” You nodded and looked him up and down, satisfied by the way his eyes angrily flashed. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“It doesn’t take a genius. Your plan was idiotic.”

You shoved against his chest, finally able to get a bit of space between your body and his. “Why pretend like you didn’t know, then?”

“I wanted to see how far you were willing to go to protect your mission.”

You subtly attempted to search for the dagger you kept strapped beneath your dress. You’d show him exactly what lengths you were willing to go to, especially if he wouldn’t let you leave this room.

“I took that little letter opener of yours.” He smiled at you again, so condescendingly that your vision turned red. You smacked his chest, your hands shaking with anger.

“Give it back.” You hissed. He caught your fist and held it against him. His heart thundered wildly beneath your hand, giving away the emotion trapped behind his indifferent mask.

“Make me.”

“I will fucking kill you, do you understand me?” You struggled against him, trying to free your hand from his grasp to no avail. “I hate you, you’re so just—ugh!”

“You hate me?” Hyunjin tugged you against his chest, his sudden furious expression a thousand times scarier up close. “You have no right to hate me. Your father’s death was not my fault, okay?”

“Let go—”

“But you.” Hyunjin sneered in your face. “You had my father killed. You knew that I never wanted to lead this ridiculous gang, and you forced me to take the position—”

“I didn’t kill your dad, okay?” Your voice had risen nearly to a shout. You both froze, both your wrists still trapped in Hyunjin’s hands against his chest. The anger on his face transformed into stiff shock.

“What?” He asked, his voice hardly more than a whisper.

You slumped against him, defeated. “I didn’t put the hit on your father. I have no idea who did.” You forced yourself to look up at his face again, annoyed with the frustrated tears you felt pricking behind your eyes. “Why would I ever do that to you, Jin? Our plan was to leave, to escape this life completely—”

Hyunjin cut you off when his mouth crushed against yours.

You froze, every thought rushing out of your brain. His lips moved against your own, his tongue tracing your bottom lip in a silent request to enter.

Hyunjin tasted exactly like you remembered. It hurt your heart beyond belief, and you felt transported back in time, back to when life was easier. Carefree.

You shoved him away with renewed strength, hard enough that he stumbled back. You couldn’t make yourself look at the expression on his face—open and raw, far more emotional than he’d let you see him since his father died.

“You don’t get to do that.” You said, your chest heaving. “You don’t get to kiss me anymore. Not after everything.”

Hyunjin’s face hardened. “Why not?” He made to approach again and you backed away hastily. “Why have we spent so much time hating each other? You didn’t tell me the truth for over a year. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You chuckled humorlessly. “It wouldn’t have mattered.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered?” Hyunjin scoffed. “I thought you killed my dad. I was in love with you before—I wanted to marry you, and you just let me think you betrayed me like that?”

“I was angry! It makes everything so much easier if you hate me.”

“Fine.” Hyunjin’s shoulders were shaking with anger now. “Fine, I’ll hate you. I’ve hated everything about you for a long time, I don’t see why that has to change now.”

“Good.”

You stared at each other, less than an arm’s length between you as you glared. The phrase if looks could kill crossed your mind. If they could, you would certainly both be bodies on the floor.

You weren’t sure when he moved. Or maybe you did. Not that it mattered.

All that mattered was the way the distance between you evaporated into nothing. Hyunjin’s mouth collided with yours, his lips surprisingly soft in contrast with the dominating way he kissed you.

Your mouth parted immediately to welcome his tongue this time. You battled for dominance, your fingers rising to tangle in his hair as his hands gripped the sides of your throat. He squeezed just hard enough for you to feel pressure inside your skull and you moaned into his mouth.

“You’re such a slut, you know that?” He panted against you, his tongue roving across the expanse of your throat as you whimpered. “You claim to hate me but you still want me to make you feel good, hm?”

“Shut up, Jin.” Your voice was barely recognizable to your own ears, heavy with lust. Your fingers in his hair scratched at his scalp, gripping the roots so you could yank his head back to look at you.

You could’ve cum right then and there at the fire burning in his eyes. His hands gripped your ass hard enough to bruise, drawing short, breathy moans from your chest.

You stared at each other for a moment, willing the other to back down first, before Hyunjin walked you backwards until your legs hit the bed.

He roughly undid the buttons of his shirt, his eyes focused only on your thighs spread wide before him. Anticipation fluttered in your veins. If your memory served, Hyunjin loved few things more than burying his face between your legs. You couldn’t imagine what would happen now that there was animosity mixed into it.

Once his shirt was off, exposing the long, cut lines of his torso, he lowered himself to his knees at the edge of the bed. His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, pulling the lace down and off before tucking them into his pocket.

“You’re going to take what I give you, understand?” He half-growled, his lips mere centimeters from where you wanted him. You nodded frantically, the desperation close to killing you now. “Use your words.”

“I understand.” Your voice was more of a gasp.

He gave you no warning before his tongue dove into your dripping core. You released a breathless moan as he dragged a long lick up your pussy, stopping to draw circles over your clit. His lips closed around the tight bud, mercilessly sucking until your hands yanked against his hair.

Hyunjin groaned against you and the vibrations ricocheted straight to your core.

“You taste even better than I remember.” His voice was muffled and he thrusted his tongue into your entrance. “Still such a good slut for me.”

His fingers slammed into you at an angle without warning. You let out shaky groans when his fingertips effortlessly brushed your swollen g-spot on every thrust.

“Oh my god—” you panted. Hyunjin moaned into you again and jerked your legs over his shoulders, completely unaffected when they closed around his ears.

You were shaking uncontrollably. You rolled your hips in time with the movements of his tongue, chasing your orgasm with reckless abandon. The lewd sounds of his mouth on your pussy were driving you wild.

Hyunjin didn’t slow when you came on his mouth. He moaned as you clenched hard around his fingers, your walls spasming with pleasure. You whined at the overstimulation, clawing at his bare shoulders while he forced you off the edge again.

The waves of pleasure were so powerful that they almost hurt. Your body locked, Hyunjin’s tongue still mercilessly attacking your clit. You couldn’t tell where one orgasm ended and another began.

At last, he removed his lips from you. His mouth and chin shone with you, instantly drying your mouth with anticipation.

“Aw, is my little slut crying? The pleasure is too much for you these days.” Hyunjin’s condescending voice sparked another round of tears, which you hastily wiped away with the backs of your hands before he could see them.

He helped you sit up, his hands surprisingly gentle as he helped you peel off your dress. Completely naked before him, he took his time sucking each of your nipples, his teeth gently closing around the perked bud.

“What’s your color?” He whispered, gazing up at you through his eyelashes.

You couldn’t take the emotion on his face. Not right now. You gripped his shoulders and rolled until you were on top of him, your breasts pressed against his stomach.

You pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his chest. “Green. Definitely green.”

You worked your way down him quickly, hardly stopping to dote on the parts of his body that you would have worshipped in the past.

He lifted his hips so you could drag his pants down his legs, immediately pleased when his hard cock sprang free. It was an angry red, precum wetting the tip in thick beads.

You pumped his base, pleased by the way his hips involuntarily thrusted upwards, and took him into your mouth. He groaned, the sound shooting immediately to your dripping core. You swallowed around him greedily as your hand massaged his balls.

“Shit…” Hyunjin bit the back of his fist to stifle his moans, rolling his hips up into your mouth. “You—ah—still so good at this. Mi-missed this, god…”

You hummed and his cock twitched on your tongue. He whimpered and you clenched around nothing. God, you’d forgotten how you loved to have him completely at your mercy like this. The feeling was only intensified by your knowledge that if anyone ever found out about what you were doing, it would probably start a war.

Hyunjin thrusted into your throat again, tumbling dangerously close to his high. His balls spasmed wildly in your hand, over and over again. His fingers threaded into your hair and he guided you along his length while you fought your gag reflex with a vengeance.

He forced you to look up at him by his hand gripping your hair. He groaned at your expression; tears were beading at the corners of your eyes, your saliva dripping down your chin.

Hyunjin’s brows furrowed, his hair sticking to his temples by the light sheen of sweat covering him.

“Gonna…gonna take my cum?” He panted. You bobbed your head on his cock with renewed vigor, determined to push him off the edge. “Gonna take it like the good slut you are?”

You dragged your teeth lightly along his length and he let out the most vulgar moan you’d ever heard. That was how Hyunjin always liked it: a fine mix of pleasure and pain. Your time apart hadn’t changed that.

His eyes screwed shut and he thrusted up into your mouth again, his balls tightening.

You rose off him with a lewd pop right as his cock released the first thick bursts of cum. Hyunjin’s eyes snapped open, fury twisting his expression, as it hit your chest and dripped down your breasts.

You smiled lazily at him, devilishly delighted by his frustration. In the past you would have sucked him through his orgasm to the point of severe overstimulation—drawn out his high as long as you possibly could. He had a special love reserved for when you swallowed him.

Not anymore.

“Assholes don’t get to cum in my mouth.” You said sweetly, dragging your tongue from his balls to tip for emphasis.

Hyunjin grabbed you before you could react. His fingers dug into your collarbones as he all but tossed you onto the bed.

His long body settled over yours as he kissed and bit your throat, no doubt leaving bruises in his wake. You moaned but it sounded more like a cry.

“You’re evil." His teeth closed over your pulse and he sucked hard. “You know I have to punish you for that, right?”

Excellent.

You grinned at the vaulted ceiling as Hyunjin lined his still impossibly hard cock up with your soaked entrance. Between the remnants of your cum and his still coating both of you, the stretch would be easy. You were thankful for that, at least.

Hyunjin slammed into you without warning.

Your body jerked toward the headboard and you cried out as he gasped in your ear. He wasted no time setting a brutal pace, his hips snapping in and out of you.

You couldn’t be embarrassed at the wet sounds of your bodies meeting. It turned you on too much for that.

Hyunjin’s arm snaked under your back and he effortlessly flipped you beneath him so you were on your front. You moaned and pressed your ass back into him. You could feel him so much deeper in this position—you couldn’t tell where you stopped and he began.

The head of his cock hit your g-spot with merciless efficiency. Your body quickly began to shake uncontrollably beneath his, sweat coating you as he bit down hard on your shoulder.

Hyunjin’s fingers wrapped around your throat again. He squeezed hard and used his grip to tug you upright until you were both on your knees, your back pressed to his front. His hips snapped into yours and you savored every pant and groan he released in your ear.

Your entire body locked as your orgasm barreled into you out of nowhere. Your walls clenched around him so hard that he was forced to stop thrusting.

Hyunjin exhaled shakily in your ear at the pleasure your repeated tightening forced through him. When he came for the second time, he had no time to prepare for it. His hands held your ass firmly against his pelvis as he came inside you, somehow releasing even more cum than before.

Your walls’ convulsing and his cock’s twitching dragged each of you through your orgasms for so long that you saw stars. When you finally came down, you were so thoroughly spent that you collapsed forward onto the pillows. Hyunjin followed, his lean body laying half on top of you and half on the blankets. He was a comfortable weight, one you had forgotten comforted you so much.

Hyunjin gasped above you, attempting to catch his breath.

“It’s good to know we’re still capable of that.” He said breathlessly.

No shit. That was probably the most mind-blowing sex you’d ever had.

Once he had recovered enough to stand, he grabbed his dress shirt off the ground and used it to gently clean you up. That would be fun to explain to the dry-cleaner.

“You’re welcome to use the shower.” You turned your head to look at him as he pointed to a door on the opposite wall. “It’s through there.”

“Thanks.”

You weren’t sure what to say. You’d just attempted to fuck the life out of one another—what were you supposed to do now? Cuddle? That didn’t seem likely.

When you didn’t immediately stand to take him up on his offer, Hyunjin settled down onto the bed next to you. You stiffened, but he just adjusted the pillow beneath his head and sighed deeply as he closed his eyes.

Maybe…

“If you try to kill me in my sleep, I’ll ruin your fucking life.” He intoned without opening his eyes. Your thoughts froze in their tracks.

Okay, maybe not.

An hour later, you hesitated in the window you’d managed to silently pry open.

You glanced back at Hyunjin’s sleeping form, his arm extended to the side of the bed where you were supposed to be laying. The sight hurt your heart, but you shoved it down without dwelling on it.

You had tugged your dress back on after he’d fallen asleep, using the time to search the room for anything useful. Safe to say, you’d found the dagger he’d taken while you were out-cold.

Sitting directly atop the one-hundred-million dollar tax files, tucked in a hidden compartment in his dresser.

Either he’d taken them from the club or they were never there to begin with. You didn’t really care, either way.

Said files were now shoved up your dress, pressed snugly against your stomach.

You felt bad, of course, but business was business. You were sure Hyunjin would do the same if the roles were reversed.

You forced yourself to look at the night-darkened world beyond the window, grateful you were only on the second floor. There was an excellently-placed bush beneath the window that would cushion your fall, then you were home-free.

Without giving yourself time to change your mind, you slung your legs out the window and jumped. Thankfully, your calculations proved true. The trimmed shrubbery caught you with ease and you walked away from the fall with minimal cuts and a slight adrenaline rush.

You glanced back at the second-story window above your head. “Sorry, Jinnie.” You felt the files still tucked beneath your dress and smiled sadly. “Knowing you, we’ll meet again soon.”

Hopefully, it would be in Fiji.

wowie, thanks for reading!! like and/or reblog if you liked it, if you can't tell I'm down bad for venom hyunjin. bye loves! - j

masterlist here :)

1K notes View Post

hyukastuffies

2 years ago

Goddamn i swear this is the hottest thing ive ever read😭 y/n is so oblivious which makes this dynamic so cute and sexy;))

HOST REQUESTED: Han Jisung

«ONE NIGHT AT BACK DOOR COLLECTION MASTERLIST»

HOST PROFILE 🔸Name: Han Jisung 🔸Attracts: Deviants 🔸Characteristics: An absolute perv who's perpetually horny [Needs revision: Minho, file shit properly istfg -Chris] 🔸Why patrons love him: He finds quirky things hot.

FAIR TRADE

📜4.7K words | Approx. 20-min. read 🖤HAN x Reader 🚨Please see the series masterlist for general warnings: Perv!Ji agenda is thriving, lowkey mutual pining, sexual deviance, somnophilia, pegging, edging, oral sex, 69, cum swallowing, unprotected sex. 📻Accompanying soundtrack 💭Reblogs & comments are always appreciated and please keep in mind they are the ultimate motivation fuel. 🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

[3 new messages] Ace

Ace We received our patron files for Valentine’s I saw a familiar name in mine🤤 I’ve missed hosting you

An involuntary smile climbed to your lips when you read the messages, more so when you saw who they came from. Jisung. The guy you had the most bizarre relationship with.

You first met him when a ladies’ night went sort of awry. When your friends told you they found a rich vein of inspiration for you, you thought they were going to take you to see some unconventional performance art again. It could be called performance art based on how you would interpret it, but you definitely didn’t expect to spend a night at a damn host club having the best sex of your entire life.

You Thought we could set the record straight You owe me a drawer’s worth of underwear Ace Bet I need some new ones for my collection anyway You Or you can stop stealing them! Ace LMAO good one Why do you think I tease you a lot before we fuck? I need those panties soaked with you Nobody told you to taste that good You You’re a sicko Ace

Ace. A nickname you had aptly given to him because damn did that guy know how to please. Well, it was his job to please, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to subscribe to his services like he was a fucking streaming platform.

It wasn’t easy to do that whenever you wanted because the club he worked at had a ridiculous waiting list. Even if you wanted to book him twice in a row, there were no consecutive days available, and the dates closest to each other were four to six months apart. It was proof that miracles existed when you managed to score an appointment on fucking Valentine’s Day.

It was fine, though. If it meant eventually spending another mindblowing night with him, you could settle for passing the time in between with a vibrator.

Ace And you fucking love it 💋 Nudes? You Geez can’t wait till next week? At least be a little romantic about it smh Ace Nudes in the rain? Come on baby I really miss you Spare one for your Ace You You're lucky you're a beast in bed [IMG1095.jpg]

Then one night you saw him off his work attire, chilling with his friends at some club. He recognized you, came to say hi, bought you several drinks, lost his whole entire shit when you told him you were a digital artist making adult webtoons, and when you kept teasing each other for the better half of an hour, he asked you if you wanted to get out of there. You took him home, had atom-rearranging sex outside the bounds of customer service, and everything changed after that night.

Your friends were right. Jisung turned into the source of inspiration you never planned on having. You kept drawing him. You kept drawing him a lot under the disguise of practice. His broad shoulders you loved to cling to, his narrow waist you loved feeling under your touch, his magnificent chest you loved dragging your nails on, his perfect lips you loved to kiss, his smile, his eyes, his pout, his cheeks… You dedicated characters after him. You illustrated steamy scenes after the things you really wanted to do with him. Granted, you refused to tell him about your work for the longest time, but he forced it out of you during one particularly faded night. And being one of your avid readers ever since then, there was no way he didn’t notice.

But that was all there was.

Technically, Jisung wasn’t allowed to ‘date’ in order not to hurt his reputation with his patrons, not that any sane person would agree to date an escort in the first place. He was a salesman who sold fantasies to whoever was willing to take him up on his offer, and there was fine print to be followed for that. The full knowledge that this man was unattached and could belong to anybody who wanted him was one of them.

Neither of you really knew what your relationship entailed; you just knew that you enjoyed each other’s company a lot. From afar, it looked like being friends with benefits, but even naming it so suddenly changed things and put Jisung in a compromising situation. You had opted for calling each other ‘cuddle buddies’ instead. Two people who cuddled and just happened to fuck each other’s brains out every time they touched. You didn’t want him to get into any trouble because of you, so you made it a point to never initiate anything, and you didn’t even have to, to be honest. Jisung always seemed to have an excuse ready to go to come and see you.

You still went to Back Door every once in a while to request him. The only difference was that you didn’t have to wait for months anymore to see him again.

Ace 🤯 I may have started salivating Can I come over? Please? Pls pls pls pls pls times infinity You Do you even care if you get canned? Ace OH COME ON!!! You never stay the night when you come in as a patron Let me fuck you awake again

And then he would say some shit like this, and effectively cause you to display a blue screen. Sometimes you hated how he knew exactly which buttons to press. It was pathetic to even think about it, but there was a reason you didn’t stay that you were going to take to your grave. Those appointments at Back Door were your make-believe date nights with Jisung. You just didn’t want to face the fact that he was going to do the same all over again with other people. Whenever you saw him outside the confines of that club you could still pretend you didn’t know what he actually did for a living. You weren’t judging him for it—not only did he not hide it from you, but that was also the reason you both met in the first place.

It was just more bearable this way.

You I’ll think about it when I see a photo with them Victoria's shopping bags Ace Can I come over if I buy you your precious lingerie? You Don’t give me attitude or else you ain’t getting any Ace 🤐🏃

One of these days. Maybe one of these days you could find the strength to say no to him and stand by it for once.

But it seemed like that day wasn’t going to arrive anytime soon.

“This is to replenish your entire second drawer, and this is for dinner,” Jisung handed you several brand-name shopping bags and a box containing a large pizza at your front door.

“Damn, you got here fast!” you exclaimed, genuinely surprised that he showed up at your apartment, “I didn’t think you would come at all.”

“How can I not cum if it’s you, baby?”

You slapped his arm with the bags in your hand and invited him in. After leaving the pizza in the kitchen, you walked to your bedroom to drop off the bags on your bed, and Jisung followed after you.

“Aren’t you gonna model for me?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t you think I deserve it?”

“You’re seriously asking for a bounty for returning what’s mine?” you cocked your brows, “You’re the culprit!”

Jisung was going to answer. He actually had a really witty comeback prepared, but when you turned around and stood right next to the soft yellow glow of the standing light in your bedroom, he could perfectly make out your nipples as well as the outline of your breasts under your white tank. He spaced out so hard thinking about them bouncing that he totally forgot what he was going to say.

“You okay there, Ace?”

“Huh? Yeah um…” he cleared his throat somewhat abashed, “Low blood sugar.”

It was odd, to say the least. He was actually proud of how unfiltered he was when it came to teasing you, throwing in innuendos everywhere he could, or flat out telling you brazen things just to fluster you. You were used to Jisung being audaciously horny; not to this.

“Then pizza it is. Wanna watch something while we eat?” you started walking back to the kitchen.

“Actually, a close friend of mine has a new movie out,” he returned to his default mode after slapping himself on the cheeks, “Shall we watch that?”

“You’re friends with a movie star?”

“I mean, duh?”

You handed him two bottles of beer from your fridge and plopped down on your couch with the pizza box. As you were settling down, Jisung logged into some website and pressed play. You were more than halfway into the pizza when the actual premise of the movie finally hit you.

“Ace?”

“Hm?”

“This is porn.”

“Why would you discriminate against the hardest workers of the movie industry?” Jisung exaggeratedly protested, “Just watch it! There’s plot, and the acting’s decent, I promise.”

You didn’t know what to be more surprised about—the fact that you were casually watching porn with Jisung as if you were binging a freshly dropped season of some show, or the fact that he had a close friend in the adult movie business. You had to hand it to him; there was indeed somewhat of an interesting plot going on, chronicling how a woman was exploring her sexuality with the android ‘sex doll’ she purchased, but pornwise, things on the screen were pretty predictable. Tame, almost.

Until she wore a strap and started going to town on this guy. As the scene progressed, you gulped so audibly that Jisung turned his face to you.

“You good?” he asked with a shit-eating grin.

“Yeah!” you jumped in your place, completely taken aback by the sudden voice. You were so engrossed in the scene that you had forgotten you weren’t alone for a second, “Yeah, why?”

“You’re blushing.”

“Isn’t it natural? We’re watching porn.”

He grabbed his beer from the coffee table and sprawled on the couch with an annoyingly smug expression.

“Or, you really like what you’re seeing right now.”

You could try to be as casual about it as you wanted, but once Jisung picked up on something, he never let it go. There was no way he was going to let you live it down.

“It’s– It’s just sex,” you stood up from the couch, “I need to use the bathroom.”

“I’ll know if you’re rubbing one out in there!”

You went to the bathroom under the pretense of washing your hands, but the matter of the fact was, you were in dire need to hit your face with as much cold water as possible. When you looked at your reflection in the mirror, you noticed how much you were indeed blushing, and your heart was beating so fast. It wasn’t how sexy the scene itself looked to you—it was the thought of doing this to Jisung and him liking it that almost made you combust.

For the rest of the movie, every time you were reminded of that particular scene, you put your brain in autopilot mode, thinking about things that weren’t even remotely sexy to clear the reddish fog in your head. Chairs. Seats. Stained glass. A church service.

But wouldn’t it be the most extremely erotic thing ever to peg Jisung during a church se—?

“ALRIGHT, let’s just call it a night. I’m tired,” you jumped to your feet.

He didn’t protest, turned off the TV, and just followed you to the bathroom. After both of you washed up, you went to bed with Jisung cuddling you like a clingy koala bear. His warmth always lulled you to sleep faster than trying to fall asleep alone.

Yet, every time your breathing became deeper, telling him that you were long gone from the conscious realm, it always awakened something inside him. Your chest was softly rising and falling, but his heart was racing like he was running from something as fast as he could.

Jisung had no idea why the thought of making you cum in your sleep was such a turn-on to him, but it was. During one of your ‘cuddling’ sessions, he just couldn’t help himself, and when you reacted so positively to him, he immediately picked it up as a habit, or more like an addiction, and couldn’t stop ever since. It was happening again—he was getting painfully hard just thinking about what he was about to do to you.

He carefully turned you on your back, spread your thighs apart just a measure, and started to slowly slide your shorts down. When he nestled between your legs, that sweet scent that made him go berserk welcomed him again. Of fucking course he was going to steal your lingerie; did you ever try tasting yourself?

He briefly basked in the warmth radiating from your body and finally started teasing your clit with just the tip of his tongue, really, really gently so as not to wake you up. He kept it up for quite some time until he could see you involuntarily clench around nothing. It made him smile. It always made him smile watching you throb like that because of him. Jisung wondered whether he was making you see a wet dream right then. Maybe you were finally letting him cuff you to the bed, making you cum over and over again until you were a panting, crying mess. Maybe you were making him beg to let him fuck you for everyone in the club to watch. God, he would put on such an amazing show with you, but no one would be allowed to touch you. You were his to please. He would satisfy you in every way you asked until he diminished you into a puddle.

As he kept turning himself on more and more with these thoughts, his drags on your sopping wet cunt became more intense. He stopped breathing and laser-focused on stimulating your swollen clit with very fast licks until he made you cum in his mouth while you were quietly moaning in your sleep. He swallowed every last drop, but it wasn’t enough. He could never get enough of your taste. Of your scent. Of your body. Of you.

The sight of your pulsating pussy oozing under him, covering your folds with heavy gloss through and through was enough to make Jisung lose his mind. His salivary glands were working at full force watching you contract hard like that. He took off his boxers with careful movements and gingerly slid into you. When he started fucking you even with those languid thrusts, it felt so damn good inside you that he knew he was in so much trouble. The urge to drill you into that mattress was so fucking real. You were definitely going to wake up.

And when he couldn’t control his pace anymore, you did.

“Wanna go faster?”

“Ah, fuck! Go b– Go back to sleep, baby.”

“While feeling this good?” you sighed contently, “I don’t think so.”

When you grabbed him by his waist and pulled him closer, Jisung buried himself into you with one sharp thrust until he reached the very end of your walls.

“God, I just love fucking you awake!”

“You’re a sicko, Ace,” you sleepily smiled.

Jisung lowered his body to be closer to your face and reciprocated your smile before kissing your face off.

“And you fucking love it, baby.”

Valentine’s Day. That fucking corporate Hallmark holiday which was the peak of consumerism and blah blah blah…

None of those were the reasons this particular day got on your nerves. It was how the passionate filler episodes you released every February 14 could not be further away from reality. You usually spent this day alone, pretending you were ‘protesting’ it, when in fact it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to spend it with someone you liked. Maybe go on a disgustingly romantic date, do cheesy shit like holding hands while walking on the strip, and come back home to eat heart-shaped chocolates off of each other and fuck all night.

This year, you were indeed spending it with someone you liked under less than favorable conditions, but at the end of the day, you were spending it with Jisung in his suite at the club, so who the fuck cared?

“I have a surprise for you,” he declared while refilling your champagne glass.

“What is it?”

“I prepped myself for today.”

You checked him out from head to toe to notice some change, but besides the undercut he got, nothing really seemed different.

“Chanel suit, blue hair, and a tight belt to accent that waist,” you took a bite from the chocolate soufflé in front of you, “Looks like your usual host attire to me.”

“Not like that,” he grinned and leaned into the table, “I have a plug inside me right now.”

When you dropped your spoon, it hit the thick porcelain plate so loudly that Jisung flinched in his place.

“W-why? Why? Why would you do that?”

“Let’s just say a little inspiration from last week,” he casually responded and took a sip from the bubbly drink, looking directly into your eyes in the meantime.

Your lips parted in surprise, but once the initial shock cleared, you started laughing hysterically. This man and his going overboard shenanigans… It reminded you of that one time you told him you were craving something sweet, and he brought back a two-tier chocolate cake after disappearing for an hour.

“Can’t fucking believe you would go that far for—”

You didn’t finish that sentence. You wanted to say for me but obviously, it wasn’t for you. It was for a patron. A paying customer.

Jisung examined your face for some time, downed his remaining drink, and extended his hand to you to get up. He gently pulled your chin towards his face and started kissing your chocolate-flavored lips, very unlike his usual M.O. He usually lived up to his ‘horny’ rep—everything was on the fast lane with him. Sloppy sometimes, but always lustful.

But that particular night, he was kissing you so slow and deep that you got scared. You knew there was no more room for you in his life than you already occupied, so you really really wished there was a ‘Stop falling in love’ button somewhere at the back of your head to smash it until it broke.

“Go crazy on me.”

Rather than ripping the clothes off of each other like you always did, you both took your sweet time this time around. You felt yourself melt in his mouth with every button of his shirt you loosened. He felt his temperature rising the lower he dragged the zipper of your dress. There was something in the air condensing dangerously, prompting that kiss to escalate to sucks on tongues, bites on lips, heavy breathing, silent exhales turning into soft moans, and wetness on skin. Passion distilled at least six times to reach its purest form.

Jisung placed the harness of the strap around you and pulled you to bed with him before you could even begin to feel self-conscious. He carefully took out the plug that was stretching him open for who knows how long and spread his legs for you.

“Do whatever you want to me.”

You almost lost your mind over how eager he seemed to be for this. You grabbed the lube bottle on the nightstand to get him comfortably slippery and then began pushing inside with shallow, careful thrusts.

“Tell me something,” you asked as you worked him deeper, “Why do you keep stealing my underwear?”

Jisung closed his eyes with a demonic smile and licked his lips before answering.

“So that I can feel you on my tongue when I’m masturbating to you, why else?” he snapped his eyes open and stared right into your soul as his hands sneaked to your inner thighs to lightly caress them, “I’m gonna cum untouched to your taste one of these days.”

“Do you masturbate to me a lot?”

“All the time,” he sank his fingertips into your supple flesh, “I want you, baby. I want you so bad.”

Who wanted the other more was up for debate. Jisung hadn’t really done anything to you besides kissing you and touching you from the waist up, but you were aroused out of your mind with just the way he talked to you. As he kept egging you on like that, you began fucking him faster, and the one thing you kept replaying in your mind over and over again for the entire week actually started happening right before your eyes.

The same moans when he woke you up from your sleep. The same sharp hissing sound when he hit that spongy spot inside you. The same enthusiasm when he buried his face between your legs. The same excitement when you told him you were about to cum.

He liked getting fucked by you.

“Oh, god, don’t stop. Harder. Fuck. Fuck!!!”

“No,” you instantly slowed your pace way down, “Not this fast.”

Who the fuck knew when the next time you could do this was going to be? Of course you were going to savor it. You wiped the beads of sweat on his forehead and kissed him as he kept touching everywhere on your body he could put his hands on. You loved his muffled, impatient moans against your mouth.

“Please,” Jisung kept panting between the kisses he was drowning you in, “Please, don’t stop.”

“You like that?”

“I fucking love that,” he emphatically responded, “Touch me there.”

He guided your hand to his throbbing cock, rock-hard and leaking with his arousal. He was so sensitive to your touch that one light brush of your fingers against his skin and he let out a loud whimper.

“Please,” he started begging in earnest while wrapping your fingers around his girth, “Please, baby. Can’t you see how hard I am for you?”

You smiled. Jisung was expecting you to cave, but you pulled out instead. His frustration was painfully apparent from that deep groan he let out. You undid the harness and removed the dildo from the o-ring. He was anticipating your every move, waiting for you to show some mercy and push him over the edge to get him to his delicious release.

“What if I kept fucking you,” you slowly climbed up his body, “but your dick was down my throat?”

You saw that maniacal glint in Jisung’s eyes. He was moments away from snapping for good and unleashing the beast mode. You knew for a fact whatever he said he would do past that moment was not going to be pretend; he would actually do it.

“Sit on my face before I cuff you to this bed and make you cum till you pass the fuck out.”

He lifted you up from your arms to prompt you to do as he said, and you could do nothing but oblige. He pressed your hips down on his mouth and finally felt the taste he never stopped craving on his tongue again. Those warm, wet glides all over your pussy… They were fucking everything.

As he kept getting you dripping wet between your legs, you lowered your body to take him in your mouth and started fucking him. The vibrations of his soundwaves worked better on you than your best vibrator. The more hungrily Jisung was licking all over your pussy with obscenely wet sounds, the further you took him down your throat. You started fucking him deeper and rolling your hips on his mouth for more friction. When he felt the frequent contractions against his tongue, he started lapping at your soaking wet cunt at full force, and you felt warm strings of his cum squirting in your mouth. Needless to say, this particular orgasm was going to make it to the top three of your bangers list.

The post-coital protocol of your visits to the club was pretty much the same. Pillow talk with Jisung, shooting the shit about whatever, showering together, you dressing back up again and leaving. This time around, when you started putting your clothes on, he started getting dressed with you.

“What are you doing?” you asked him in surprise.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Why?”

Jisung heaved a very annoyed sighed and facepalmed himself out of pure exasperation.

“Can’t fucking believe you’re gonna make me spell this out. You actually thought you were just extremely lucky to get an appointment here on goddamn Valentine’s Day?”

“I mean… Yeah?” you took a moment trying to decipher what he meant, “You guys are usually insanely booked, so I did consider it extremely lucky. How else would I be able t–?”

“ME!” Jisung threw his arms to the side and yelled impatiently, “It was ME! I’M the one who begged Chris to let me host you on Valentine’s Day.”

Oh, there was simply noooo fucking way in the universe…

“Shut up.”

“Yes.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! REALLY?”

Miracles, huh? Did they really exist, or did they just appear in the form of Han Jisung every once in a while?

“And he was… okay with it?” you asked, eyes still wide open.

“He said it was getting painful to watch how obvious we were being.”

“What do you mean how obvious we’re v—”

“Everybody here reads your webtoon, baby.”

“You fucking BLABBED?!”

Oh, great, now you had multiple reasons to be mortified because why the fuck wouldn’t you?!

“Felix found it! Said he was looking for inspiration for content, whatever the fuck that means,” Jisung patiently explained, “I told him only after he did rounds with everybody and said the main character looks exactly like me.”

Who knew? If you handed a copy of your collected works to the other hosts here the first time you walked in, would your restlessness have ended sooner? Would you have had the guts to tell Jisung that you were actually falli—?

“But… You’re not supposed to…”

“I know,” he flashed one of his bright smiles to you and pulled you closer to him from your waist, “So? Can I take you out?”

“Good luck trying to find somewhere on, what was it, goddamn Valentine’s Day,” you scoffed with as much pettiness as you could squeeze into that sentence. Jisung wasn’t even fazed at your retort attempt.

“That’s really cute. We have a reservation at Chiara’s in half an hour.”

“How the fuck?! It’s 10 PM!”

“They know.”

You scanned him from head to toe with a dubious look, “How are you so sure I’m not gonna say no?”

“Then I’ll go get shitfaced by myself,” he uttered very matter-of-factly and shrugged, “But you’re not going to.”

“Just how would you kno–?”

“You like me,” he plastered that annoying shit-eating grin to his face again, “As in like me like me.”

You could actually feel your face burn like a fucking radiator and you had zero snark left in your pocket to hit him with. All you could produce was a bunch of incoherent sounds. Jisung took the matter into his own hands and ended the discussion right then and there.

“Now we’re gonna go and critique tonight’s performance over some drinks. If you tell me why you drew Peter getting pegged in this week’s episode, I’ll tell you the reason why I’m considering quitting.”

So the declaration that he wasn’t even slightly oblivious to how you were feeling about him was not the biggest shocker of the night, huh?

“You would… You would actually quit?” you hesitantly asked, scared to hear an actual answer.

Jisung pressed his lips against yours and kissed you for a long time in response.

“It’s only fair trade, baby, don’t you think?”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

Yes, hello. I'm back and in full thot mode so I'll see you around.

If you enjoyed this story, feel free to share your thoughts with me in reblogs, tags, or in my inbox. As long as you're kind, that is.

-R. (CB97%)

📢Regarding tagging: Please do not ask me to tag you if you won't be meaningfully engaging with my work. Additionally, I do not tag ageless and/or blank blogs, nor can I tag you if your blog is listed as "invisible" / if you've changed your URL and didn't let me know. Thank you for your cooperation in advance!

🔖Story taglist: @beowmgyu ; @djeniryuu

📌Permanent taglist: @sai-kida134 ; @ughbehavior ; @hwan-g ; @svintsandghosts ; @skz317cb97 ; @abiaswreck ; @changbinluvr ; @lotus-dly ; @imsuchasimp00 ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @downforseochangbin ; @nabis-dreamscape-world ; @oiphoebe ; @chansynie ; @staytheword : @venustired ; @lachinitaaaaa ; @yoongihan ; @hyunskizz ; @sikebishes ; @changbinheart ; @downbadreading ; @bxffietheblxxdy ; @j-0ne25 ; @binstitsweat ; @skizzel ; @reallyloudstarlight ; @jaeminie-cricket ; @lifeinakpopbubble ; @honeymooncrz

662 notes View Post

End of content

No more pages to load