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stormhearty · 3 months

Text

Parings: Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 3k+

Triggers: character death, torture, blood, war

Summary: The fear that Helion envisioned had come true — the Death-God used your body to resurrect himself from the lake on the continent. But what no one had imagined, was that you would be alongside him — tainted in darkness matching the Death-God. What would the Inner Circle and Azriel do, to be bestowed your forgiveness for their acts against you? What will be the fate of Prythian with you guiding fates?

Note: The last part of “Pushed to the Edge”! I thank you so much for all the support for this requested series! Like I said, never thought people would want a continuation of that one-shot! I had so much fun writing this trilogy, and had so much fun watching everyone’s reactions! Please enjoy! Also… I will be writing an epilogue for this series. AHEM. Just to wrap everything up in an angsty bow. Also, I am always willing to write more for Seer!Reader! Don’t be hesitant to ask!

Part One | Part Two | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

The room was deathly chilled, the skies above clouding, blocking the bright sun that had ruled over Day Court. The powers of a God overtaking a High Lord’s. The two of you stood near the large balcony window, shadow and sin coating the two of you — a God and a Seer — a powerful duo shaking the very foundations of Prythian.

Kosechi’s sinister grin grew wider as he turned his heels, walking towards the dias, you follow his tail. You felt the shimmer of wards opening and the winnowing of guards, the Dawn Court’s Peregryn surrounding the edges of the throne room — all ready to attack if the Death-God lifted the wrong finger against the High Lords.

But little did they know, you were a guard dog, ready to attack anyone that would be a threat to the God — ruthless and unforgiving.

Both of you rounded the last quarter of the table, stepping up to the dias as the Deathless God took a seat on the High Lord’s seat, as you stood near him — a vision of a High Lord and his High Lady of the Darkness.

You felt it though… The stares from the Inner Circle. They did not care for the Death God that casually sitting on the throne. They only looked at you, disbelief in their features but you could see something underneath that — the look of longing and regret.

You wanted to sneer, you wanted to show any hint of disgust at the look on their features — how dare they. After everything they have done to you.

Kosechi looked at the Inner Circle, before glancing at you from the corner of his eye and he snicked under his breath.

“How unfortunate, High Lord of the Night. To have lost your beloved Seer to me…” he pointed out, casually resting head tilting on bony hands as he looked at Rhysand, grin still evident on his features. “Did you know… how the High Lord of Day had hidden her from my followers since she was young … protected her within the wards of Day Court. I’ve been waiting… Waiting for her to fall to me, and you and her mate had made that happen.”

He leaned forward, pressing his hands onto his thighs as the grin widened, sharpened teeth glistening in the light.

“She was beautiful… when my followers found her bleeding body. It took a lot of power to seize her, your shadows protecting her…” Blackened eyes staring at Azriel, “But it was a well-worthy fight. Her light was dimming, leaving an empty echo and so I filled it. Filled it with darkness, it was so exquisite, watching her light dull…”

The Death-God caught your eye and tilted his head.

You had looked at him, charcoal hues staring before you bowed your head, silently thanking him as you felt the weave of shadow up your arms, ghosting over your skin — ensuring you were safe and well protected from any danger, even from Koschei himself.

Azriel watched, those tendrils of shadow wound around you, hearing the purr of devotion to you:

“We serve,

“We protect…

“We find, we hide…

“We cherish the light…”

After your death and after the disappearance of your body, Azriel could never summon the shadows again; they did not flock to him, they did not sing to him, not ever since then — and he realized why.

He realized that despite his infatuation with the middle Archeron sister, his shadows knew exactly what he had wanted, where he should have stayed next to. His shadows were attracted to your light, like flies to fire.

And they still clung to you, even now, and would never let you go.

He tried, fisting his hand as if trying to summon his shadows back to him; however, he could hear them hiss at him:

“You failed, you lost…

“You are not worthy of her light…

“We will not sing for you, only for her…”

Your eyes snapped at him as if feeling the attempt to strip you of the shadows. Your eyes met and you just stared, much like he did to you — all those months ago. That very stare, as if reaching into the depths of his soul, causing him to stumble backward, hands bracing the table behind him — the echo of the broken mating bond aching in his chest; something he will never get used to.

“And so,” Kosechi ended*, “I would like to give my savior a gift… one that I had promised her when I had resurrected her from her unfortunate death,” Koschei cheerfully said, straightening up in his seat, “Blood… of all of Pyrthian, starting with her beloved Night Court.” He raised a hand, darkness flowing out of him.

The Peregryn saw that to be a moment of attack and charged for the Death-God, only to be killed, swiftly and silently by you.

No one had seen it, your movement from the dias to the edges of the room, as if you used the shadows to winnow from one end to the other, though impossible. You stood, surrounded by lifeless bodies of those guards, dull eyes staring at the dead, in your hand a familiar dagger — Truth-Teller, dripping in blood.

Helion, Rhysand, and the rest of the Inner Circle watched, trying to hold back the bile that was rising in their throats at the site of you.

This wasn’t you.

You were someone who would never hurt anyone.

You hated seeing war, hated seeing bloodshed — saw it too often in your visions.

And it had been your duty to ensure, with your sight, to prevent it.

And yet, now, you were the one wreaking havoc on Pyrthian.

In that instant, they knew, they had lost you, completely, to the shadows and darkness that they had drowned you in — in the darkness that the Death God had filled you up with. They had failed you, completely and they weren’t sure… if they would ever get you back.

Feyre looked at you, and took a step forward, only to have her held back by Rhysand — a feeble attempt to protect his mate, “(Y/N) …” she called out your name, as if a way to break you out of this trance, to call you back to them, “What has he done to you? We apologize for not listening to you, and for not seeing you. Please, come back home… We’ll make it up to you, we’ll do anything to bring you back… please…”

You snapped your head towards her, charcoal eyes staring at your former High Lady, a mixed look of longing and hatred towards her way. Tears swam beneath your eyes, forcing them back, “You can’t apologize now…” you seethed, “You can’t tell me that you want me back — when all you did for months was ignore me,” your voice was shaking, that small part of you, that old light you had broken through, “And home? When has that been my home for the past few months? I was alienated, thrown away, cast aside, and yet you want me to go back? For what? For you to do the same again?”

Tears broke, as they ran down your cheeks, “He has done nothing to me… You all have forced your hand to make it this way. I have asked you multiple times to listen to me… I begged all of you to listen, but here we are now…” Pained hues stared at your family, “You have doomed us all to Pyrthian’s destruction.”

That old part of you, the one that had died when you had taken your life, the one that disappeared when Kosechi revived you, cried out — cried out for the loss of your light, loss of your innocence, loss of your own life; cried for the circumstances that fell into place. That old part of you drowned in the darkness that your mate and family had subjected you to. Leaving you seeping in the darkness that the Death-God soaked you in.

And you were losing yourself in that darkness.

You never meant it, you never meant to resurrect the Death-God, you didn’t want to.

You never meant to be the cause of Prythian’s doom.

But fate… seemed to be laughing in your face.

Azriel watched the confrontation between you and his High Lady, but he couldn't glance her way, all his attention on you. He watched as you held Truth-Teller in your hand, watched as his shadows wrapped around your hand that held that dagger as if to steady it in your hand, holding back the quiver that shook your body.

He could see it, that bit of light, that piece of you that he loved so dearly — he hoped to reach out to it… to bring you back home, to bring you back to him.

He took a step forward, passing his High Lady, a hand reaching out towards you.

Your head snapped at him, glaring at him as the hot streams of tears never ended.

It was as if the whole world stilled, just the two of you in that room.

“(Y/N) …” he whispered; your name was a prayer on his lips.

Much like his was yours, for so many centuries.

He stood in front of you, a hand shakily reaching up to try to touch you, to hold you again — to apologize for his mistakes, to beg for you to come back. Azriel let scarred fingers touch your cheeks, wiping the tears that stained your cheeks. Your skin was cold, ice cold. No warmth, nothing that echoed you. But he held on, cupping your cheek and holding you near him.

You bit your lip, trembling, fighting back all the urge to lean into his warmth — to fall back in love with the Shadowsinger.

“I’m sorry… I am sorry. I will beg for the rest of my life for your forgiveness. To kiss the very ground you walk on, follow the shadows to the darkness of your soul. I will be your blade, slicing your enemies for you so that your soul doesn’t darken anymore…”

Azriel’s hand slipped down your face, caressing cold skin as it trailed down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake before grasping around your hand that held Truth-Teller. The burn of a bargain tattoo searing onto both of your skin.

He flinched slightly but kept his hazel eyes on you, his hand gripping tightly onto yours. He felt your every shiver against his hold, he felt those tendrils of shadow wrap around his hand — hissing at the completeness of the two mates.

A sob escaped you, your bottom lip shaking as you looked at those hazel eyes you adored. His words soothed the ache in your chest; it was all you had wanted to hear… all those months ago.

But you couldn’t… you couldn’t let yourself forgive him.

You wrenched your hand away from him, as your other hand reached up, mirroring him, pressing the palm of your hand to his cheek, “We had everything, Az…” your voice was hauntingly beautiful, mesmerizing, lyrical, broken, “A family that loved us, a family that we cared for… Yet you were willing to throw it away for a few moments of passion, gallivanting with Elain… You had chosen her over me…” Dark eyes looked at the Made-Fae who stared at both of you with wide brown hues.

You stared back at Azriel, who looked at you as if you were the whole night sky, “…You, Azriel, have broken me, entirely and fully. You will beg for eternity for my forgiveness… We will see to what lengths you will go through… for me…”

You brought his face close to yours, your scent of fresh soft florals — jasmine and sage, overtaking Azriel’s senses. Your lips hovering over his own, “I will show you, my love, on how much you have broken me…”

And with your other hand, you flung Truth-Teller across the room, towards Elain, stabbing her right in her chest. A scream echoed, before your shadows flooded, blanketing the room in darkness, Koschei’s maniacal laughter ringing through the dark.

Azriel had lost track of how long he had been trapped within his cell, with no remembrance of how he got there. The wards that surrounded his cell were unbreakable, one of strong, ancient magic weaving through its walls. He had tried, multiple times to break it. However, difficult; his siphons were taken away and his wings were battered. His strength only depleted day after day, with every attempt to get out. He yelled and screamed, only to be met with silence every single time — he lost all will after that.

So he sat, in that cold, dark cell, watching the sun through the small crack in the rock as his only light source.

He had no idea what was going on in the outside world — in Pyrthian.

He heard, though, through the cracks in the rocks.

He heard the whispers of Koschei’s magic and powers seeping through Pyrthian. The destruction of the world was quick and simple. The God’s power was no match for the Fae that lived, the Fae that had fought against him. He had realized that he and his family had caused this plight to fall upon Prythian.

And that you were right next to the Death-God, using those arrows made of shadow and darkness to rain havoc on both fae and humans alike. Sparing no one in its terrible wake, but…

He had heard of the whispers that you had asked to spare the High Lords from the destruction.

All but the Inner Circle.

The first time you had come to see him was three days after being locked in that cell. The shadows still clung onto your body, whispering and seething at him.

You had tortured him, physically and mentally. Using Truth-Teller to inflict wounds on skin and whispering to him on destruction that wrecked Prythian — as if you were lovers laying in bed after lovemaking.

After hours of torture, shadows swarming towards him to heal those wounds, you had lifted the silencing ward, allowing him to call out to his family — for them to communicate to each other… to keep their sanity within those walls. A kind gesture, you had reminded him. For them to listen to each other — when they couldn’t do the same to you.

What he didn’t realize was that the silencing spell was a haven — it allowed Azriel not to listen to the screams of torture that befallen his family.

He could hear the yells of his High Lord, the call of Feyre to her family, the frantic screams of Nesta and Cassian calling for each other, and the whimpers of the still-alive Elain.

There were many times when he tried to reach out — call for them, let his voice be an anchor through the pain.

He had been the reason for this destruction.

But it wasn’t enough. Eventually, Azirel stopped reaching out; there was no point, there was no getting out of there.

It was like their own Prison, but it was of their own making.

The second time you had come to see him, you had pressed Truth-Teller into his hands, dark eyes locking into dulling hazel.

“I call upon your promise, Shadowsinger…” you had told him, the sting of the bargain tattoo on the back of his neck, the call of the use of the bargain, causing him to flinch, “The blade that will free my soul from the darkness. You promised you’d be it, right?”

And that’s what he had become.

A sword of blood — against all of Prythian.

All for you.

He wielded Truth-Teller against all Fae, beast, and humans alike.

He followed your command, not a single thought but listening to your voice as you whispered with the shadows on who to kill and whom to spare — much like a puppet on a string. Slowly breaking from the inside as he raised his hand against his home.

He had thought that you’d call on him often. As he promised, he didn’t want your hands to be stained more with blood, to have your soul darken more.

But you rarely had called him, only twice you had asked him to kill for you.

When the creak of his cell door opened, hazel eyes looked up from his position on the ground, watching you enter and closing the door behind you.

You tilted your head at him your hand reached out towards him, and Azriel shifted to his feet before kneeling in front of you — his bloodied hands grasping your own and pressing a kiss towards the top of your hand — a movement of devotion.

You leaned down, hovering over him as he looked up at you, “One last time… Azriel…” you whispered, your breath caressing his skin as you pressed Truth-Teller one last time into his hands, the two of you were winnowing out of his cell.

The two of you landed on familiar lands — Velaris — and in the distance the darkening cloud of Koschei’s followers and the Death-God himself, heading towards the City of Starlight.

Azriel watched as they slowly descended into the city, his body screaming to defend, to fight… to protect his home. But he waited for your command, on your word.

What he had not expected was for your shadows to cover his eyes, cover his ears, and slither around his hand that held Truth-Teller. His senses were blocked by darkness, and he couldn’t help the panic that zipped through his body.

This wasn’t like before — you never used your shadows like this.

He knew it was torture for him, to watch himself raise his hand and blade against Prythian — it was the reason why you forced him to fight — to see watch Prythian burn in his wake.

He was confused and it showed in his features.

He felt your hand on his upper arm, through the Illryian leathers that seemed to stick to his skin. He felt your body close to his own as you whispered in his ear, “Let the shadows guide you, Shadowsinger… Let them help you kill on my command…”

Azriel felt his throat bob and allowed the shadows to guide his feet, swarming around him and allowing them to whisper to him again.

He tore against leather and skin, smelt blood that splattered onto his face, and heard the muffled screams and cries of whoever he cut down. He didn’t know who he was killing, nor did he want to. He didn’t want to see the lifeless bodies of those who lived in his home, he had passed by on the streets.

He didn’t want to see the lives of the Velarians he just had taken.

The shadows continued to whisper to him — where to turn, when to strike, when to kill — relying on them as he did once before. He and the shadows were working in tandem, following your commands.

As he walked through the streets of Velaris, he felt the world calm — the screams stopped, the smell of blood fading through the whisps of wind — as if time stopped around him.

He allowed the shadows to lead him, stepping over fallen bodies, and debris. Azriel didn’t know where he was being taken and he didn’t want to know where if it meant more bloodshed on his people.

Footsteps grew closer, and a chilling shiver ran down the Spymaster’s spine, ears picking up on the slightest sound from the direction of the footsteps, Truth-Teller armed against whoever might attack him.

“…Strike in the void in the chest…”

He let the shadow lift his arm, as he lunged forward, Truth-Teller gleaming in the light as he broke through skin, striking at the place where the shadows whispered to hit.

A familiar gasp reached his ears, and the body collapsed against him; his arms naturally wrapping around.

The shadows slithered away from his body and Azriel blinked, focusing his eyes on the figure in front of him.

In his arms, at the end of Truth-Teller was you — he had stabbed you.

“(Y/N) … What…?” his breath came out shaky, as he collapsed with you in his arms, his hand releasing its hold on Truth-Teller as it remained embedded in you, in your chest, right where the void seemed to be swirling around the dagger.

He looked around him, noticing that it wasn’t the bodies of his city that lay on the ground but of Kosechi’s army — you had commanded him to kill Kosechi’s followers.

Before he could breathe out something else, a yell echoed through the skies of Velaris. Azriel whipped his head toward the sound, and he watched Kosechi’s body strike the ground, cracks on the earth as he stalked towards Azriel — the same gaping void in his chest mirroring your own.

Charcoal eyes of the Death-God shifted from the Spymaster’s to your own, as your life was slowly leaving your body and he let out a broken laugh, “Seems that your Seer has planned this… since I had resurrected her. Our connection...” another laugh, one of disbelief, "...was our downfall..."

Eyes moved again to Azriel, “You all never deserved her…”

Azriel watched as Kosechi’s body was swallowed by the void, leaving nothing but whisps of air in his waking — the Deathless God, dead.

Not even a second later, he was focusing on your body, watching the shadows wrap around Truth-Teller, as if trying to stop death from taking your body.

“No….No!” he screamed, as he shifted you in his arms, pressing a hand against your cheek and his forehead resting against your head, “You can’t do this, (Y/N)…” as he tried to catch your eyes, hazel eyes in panic mode.

Azriel didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to think. All he could think was that he was losing you all over again — and this time permanently.

He felt tears streaking down his features, watching them fall onto your face, “What did you do, my love? Why did you do this?” he whispered against your skin.

He felt you chuckle, one so broken and shallow and he watched you look up at him, your colored hues staring up at him — one devoid of the darkness that had swallowed you up.

“I had always loved you, Azriel…” you mumbled, “… Loved you with my whole being… for centuries I had been devoted to you…”

A cough escaped your lips, dark as night blood dripping down the edge, “You will, for eternity, regret and mourn… You will be as broken as I was when you betrayed me…”

He leaned against the hand that you had lifted to rest against his cheek, your blackened blood streaking against his skin.

“You will never forget what you had pushed me to do… To save Prythian…”

With one last breath, your hand fell limp against your chest, your eyes dimming as the last of your light finally diminished. The shadows went wild against your body, their cries ringing in Azriel’s ears as he shook, he brought your body close to his.

A roar echoed through the skies of Valeris — one full of anguish and regret.

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#acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar angst #azriel x reader #( .one shot : pushed to the edge )#azriel angst

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pedroshotwifey · 11 days

Note

Do you think you could write a nervous Joel fic... like he's older and a single dad and hasn't dated in a REALLY REALLY long time...but he's still really sweet, maybe he has to stop and eat reader cos he's about to cum too soon or something 🤷‍♀️😭

Hey, babe!! So I hope this is what you were hoping for! It's super tender and I did end up listening to Hozier for a good portion of it, so do with that information what you will 😅

Also, I kind of did something a bit different and wrote it more from Joel's perspective, but it's still in 2nd person (pronouns = you)! Pls lmk how you feel about it ❤

Pairing: Older Joel Miller x afab!reader

Tags/warnings: Age gap (not specified), piv sex, oral sex (f), vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, established relationship, (almost) premature ejaculation, accidental love confessions 🤭, self deprecating Joel™, big dick Joel™, kissing, stuff I'm probably forgetting

W/C: 1.9k

Summary: Your and Joel's first time together turns into so much more.

What Matters

“Are you sure, baby?”

Joel watches as your eyes flick up to him, only kindness and patience in them. Even as you smile warmly and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him to you, he still has a sense of cautiousness in his movements. You’ve probably lost track of how many times he’s asked you if you’re sure.

“Yes, Joel, I’m sure,” you laugh breathily.

You’re both lying in his bed, half-naked. There’s a soft summer breeze coming in through the window and rustling the sheer curtains. The sun’s going down, but just barely, causing a perfect golden hue to coat the room. He can’t help but think that you look even more gorgeous than usual in this lighting.

Joel tries to ignore the nervousness in his stomach as he softly kisses your jaw and nuzzles up to you. He’s not stupid, he knows that you know he’s just trying to waste time, but you let him. You’re so fucking sweet like that. Always making him feel so wanted and appreciated. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be with you in this way, but that he’s worried he won’t be perfect for you. He wants to be able to show you affection in the same way that you show him.

But what if he can’t?

You’re younger, after all, and he’s not been with a woman in so long. Maybe not since Sarah’s mom. If that’s the case, it’s been about fifteen, sixteen years. Point in case, you’re probably used to boys who can last longer and can make you come every time. What if he can’t? What if it’s been so long now, that he only lasts a couple of minutes?

It terrifies him, the prospect that you may be disappointed in his performance. What if you decide to leave him because he’s not enough to get you off? No, he realizes, you would never do that. You’re so good, so thoughtful and generous and patient. You’d wait for him, help him get back to the point where he used to be.

But that’s not what he wants. He wants to be good for you now.

“Joel?”

His name falling from your lips has his head raising back up. You look into his eyes with a desperation that he simply can’t ignore.

“Please,” you whisper before planting a feather-light kiss to his lips. He nods slowly before he can think about it.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And he does, he knows it. He just hopes he can do it right.

You’re already prepped. He spent probably half an hour fingering you to orgasm even though you had begged for the real thing each time you fell apart on his hand. It’s another thing he was worried about—being so big. Joel’s not a super cocky man by any means, but he is aware of his…attributes.

He watches you carefully as he grasps his cock and guides it to your slippery entrance. Your eyes flutter shut as he pushes in, giving you about an inch each time he thrusts. His jaw goes slack once he’s about halfway in. You’re so fucking warm and wet and inviting. He keeps going, trying to keep his breathy whines at bay. He’s again reminded of just how long it’s been since he’s felt something other than the palm of his hand around himself.

“Shit, baby,” he breathes as he bottoms out. He closes his eyes in concentration and lets his head hang next to yours. He already feels like he might blow his load at any second. You bring a hand up to cup his head and thread his curls through your fingers, holding him close. His breathing is heavy when he lifts himself back up to look into your eyes.

His heart seems to skip a beat when he sees the adoration you’re looking at him with. It kills him every time. And no matter how many times you tell him that he deserves all your affection, he knows he’ll still find a lingering doubt in the back of his mind. There’s a reason the two of you have only been “together” for about four months even though you’ve been shamelessly flirting for about a year.

It was just too good to be true. For such a sweet, gentle thing like you to want a rough old man like him. He was never the one to initiate anything, but he knows you’ve been aware that he had his sore eyes set on you since you met. How could he not? He’s never met anyone so kind and considerate. It was impossible to deny you of him any longer when it was one of the only things you’ve ever wanted for yourself.

“You okay?” Your honeyed voice reaches his ears—or his good ear, rather—and he smiles at you.

“‘Course, baby. Jus’ gotta give me a second, alright?” He can feel his cheeks getting a bit rosy at the confession. “It’s been a minute.”

You nod, still no hesitation or any sign of regret. God, what did he do to deserve you?

Once he collects himself, he pulls out just barely, and a groan tumbles from his mouth to mingle with your soft moan. He’s already starting to sweat from the effort of not coming too soon as he starts to push into you at a slow but rhythmic pace. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and tuck your head into his chest as you whimper with his thrusts.

“You feel so good,” you whine.

“Fuck, sweetheart, so d’ you. “Like goddamn heaven.” And you do; overwhelmingly so.

He cradles your head and lowers the two of you even more to deepen his thrusts. He knows he’s found your spot when your breath catches and you start to tighten around him every time he pumps his hips. Unfortunately, this makes it a lot harder for him to keep his composure.

“H-honey, I have to pull out,” he grits out. He’s so embarrassed, it hasn’t even been five minutes. He won’t last long enough for you to come before him.

But you just nod into him, even though you must be devastated by the loss of your orgasm. “It’s okay, Joel,” you breathily assure him.

He pulls out and squeezes the base of his cock, out of breath. He doesn’t meet your gaze as he starts to apologize.

“I’m sorry, baby, I—”

“Joel,” You stop him by carefully grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “It’s okay.” You nod, waiting for him to do the same before you continue. “Take as much time as you need. I love you no matter what. This does not determine—”

You both realize what you said at the same time. Joel’s eyes widen and his chest feels like it caved into itself. Your lips stay still, parted in the middle of your sentence. Joel doesn’t realize tears have gathered in his eyes until his vision starts to blur and a smile spreads across his face.

You love him. You said it. And he believes you.

“I love you too, baby,” he whispers and lets his forehead rest against yours. “So damn much.” Fuck his age and whoever might see a problem with you being together. He wants this, and you want this, and that’s all that matters.

Then you’re both laughing shakily, pressing kisses to each other’s lips. He only stops to start trailing them down your body instead, watching you writhe as his mustache tickles your bare skin.

“Joel, p-please,” you beg quietly. Joel just huffs a small laugh through his nose as he lays himself between your legs, ignoring his protesting knees as he admires the entirety of you laying out just for him. You look fucking beautiful covered in a thin sheen of sweat atop his sheets, needy and panting all for him.

He doesn’t waste too much time before putting his mouth on your sweet pussy, his tongue dragging up your slit to flick at your clit. Joel moans at your taste, sending vibrations racing toward your swollen bud. Your hips buck as your hands fly to grasp at his hair, tugging lightly and making his eyes roll back.

He feasts on you like his life depends on it, worshiping you with all he has. He takes turns in running his tongue up you, fucking you with it the best he can, and suckling on your clit. He looks like a damn mess as he does so, his eyes not leaving your cunt unless he’s watching your face contort with pleasure. When you make eye contact with him, he knows he must look fucked out and desperate just based on the way you groan and lay your head back.

It doesn’t take much for you to get to the edge, and it takes even less for him to push you over. You let out sharp, whiny sounds as he sucks on your clit and slips a couple of fingers inside of you to grip on to. Your entire body goes tense, and Joel has to resist the urge to smirk against you as you shake with the force of your orgasm.

By the time you’re coming down, he’s back over you and slipping his tongue inside your mouth to share your taste. You moan into the kiss and pull him closer as he once again glides his tip into your cunt. Just as he had hoped, the distraction calmed him down enough to hopefully give him some more time.

You both melt into each other as he bottoms out, the tip of his swollen cock hitting your cervix and making your thighs squeeze his torso. He starts at a faster pace than last time, too deep in his lust-filled haze to even try to slow down now.

You pull away from his mouth to start leaving love bites on his neck, making his cock twitch inside of you with each pinch. He can feel you smile against his skin, and knows that you’ve found his secret. He does like a little pain with his pleasure. You keep going, sucking and biting marks before licking soothingly over them and moving to the next spot. You taste him like you’re addicted, like you could never possibly get enough.

It still doesn’t take him as long as he would like to before he starts to feel his balls drawing up and his thighs start to shake. His head goes foggy as he tries to hold on for you, but it’s too fucking much. He can’t hold it off when you feel so good around him. It’s like torture to stave off his orgasm when he’s thrusting into your soft heat.

“Where d’ you want me, honey?” Joel asks you, his voice strained.

“Inside,” you whisper against his neck without a second thought.

And it throws him over. He groans your name as his body stutters and his balls empty, coating your walls with his milky spend. It seems to go on forever. Each time he thinks he’s almost done, there’s another spurt and another wave of pleasure that tugs him deeper into euphoria.

When it does end, he lets himself half-collapse on top of you. You embrace him with welcoming arms and the two of you catch your breath together in the now dark bedroom. He only pulls out once sleep threatens to take the both of you. A shower, snack, and a glass of water later, you both snuggle up together and fall asleep with content smiles and full hearts.

*****

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nakahras · 1 month

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᯽ wet dreamz • osamu dazai

synopsis • you’ve been having some dubious dreams about one (1) osamu dazai and you let it slip.

warnings • swearing, lucid dreaming, fem!reader, ņsfw, dazai (he needs his own warning, yes), nickname “bella” is used, hair pulling, some light hand stuff/teasing, oral (f -> m), no set dynamic (both parties switch), masturbation (f), clothed sex, edging, finger sucking, slight choking, creampie, overstimulation, pussy drunk dazai, this is a long one >.<, also mildly unedited

wc • 6.8k

a/n • ahahahaha i don’t know

his hands are all over you, all at once, but it’s still not enough. you can’t pinpoint why because in all honesty it should be borderline overwhelming. but it’s not.

maybe you’re just greedy. you’ve been waiting for this for so long that you’ve been dreaming about it. dreaming? something washes over you and, once again, you can’t place it. you shake it off internally. how could you pay anything much attention when what you should be paying attention to is the man underneath you pawing at your skin.

he’s demanding all of your attention and you’ll gladly give it to him. you don’t remember how you got here, or how you got his shirt off but you dip down and kiss his exposed and surprisingly sun kissed skin. everything is blurry, the feeling of his skin under your lips, the image of him shirtless underneath you and the sensation of his nimble fingers kneading at your ass.

before you can overthink it, he gets impatient and guides your hips to grind down on his hardened crotch. your mind is the next thing to become blurry. you straighten up and throw your head back as the sensation of the friction overtakes your senses. you want more, need more.

as if the brunette could read your mind, he’s tugging at your panties. it’s only then that you realize, he’s pantless as well. things felt like they were going too fast and also too slow all at once. you sit yourself back down on his length and continue to grind down on him.

your head is swimming and distantly you hear ringing in your ears. you ignore it though, the sounds of his moans drowning out any other noise. his grip on your bottom tightens and he lifts your hips up expertly aligning himself with your entrance.

he’s about to sit you back down and stretch you out but the ringing gets louder and everything goes white.

᯽•᯽

you woke this morning in a pool of your own sweat — thighs rubbing together desperately seeking out the same sensations you experienced in your dream.

now you’re sitting at your desk feeling extremely embarrassed and, frankly, frustrated that you had yet another wet dream about your coworker, dazai osamu.

you let out a huff while typing up a report on yesterday’s case. of all people in this office it just had to be the most insufferable of them all. why did he have to be so gorgeous? why couldn’t you think the same of kunikida? hell, even ranpo would have been a better choice than dazai. you think your subconscious is cruel. laughing at you, making fun of you by giving you wet dreams. you felt like a fucking teenager. hell, you don’t think you even had wet dreams when you were an adolescent going through puberty. how utterly embarrassing.

you let out yet another exasperated sigh, brows furrowed and fingers typing furiously. you were making a spectacle and your deskmates had long since noticed your sour mood. atsushi and kunikida were the smart ones, they simply let you be, figuring if you wanted to talk about it you would bring it up.

dazai, however, is nosey. his natural curiosity always getting the better of him. he builds a simple paper airplane and shoots it through the air. it lands right on your keyboard and your aggressive typing finally ceases. you stare at the airplane as if you’ve never seen one in your entire life. you refuse to look up, fearing that if you look at dazai you’ll be reminded of what your subconscious thinks of him. you don’t think you can handle that quite yet.

dazai watches, slightly perturbed, as you seem to try to make his little creation spontaneously combust. no matter how unsettling, dazai still isn’t deterred. atsushi shoots him a warning look, as if to say this wasn’t a good idea. the brunette blatantly ignores the boy and wheels himself over to your part of the desk, which was a show in itself since you’re on the complete opposite side of where he was sat. that means dazai has to push himself past either atsushi or kunikida. of course, him being the menace that he is, dazai chooses the harder path of going around kunikida.

you don’t see it because you’re still having a staring contest with your little gift but kunikida’s eye twitches as dazai swivels past him. the blonde was going to take the high road though. he was going to let it slide since you seemed to need the distraction. but dazai was clumsy and clipped his wheels on the ones of his partner’s chair. kunikida’s eye twitches and he can’t help himself.

”dazai…” it’s a simple warning. one that the brown eyed detective promptly ignores.

dazai makes it to you without another hitch and gingerly reaches over to replace the airplane with a paper rose.

you blink. stare some more. then finally look up. “dazai, what the fuck?”

“oh c’mon, bella. you’ve been in a mood all day. i thought a rose would cheer you up enough to tell me what’s got you in such a sulky mood.” dazai pouts at you and it takes everything in you to look away for your sanity.

you can feel your cheeks heating up by just the small interaction. if these dreams persist, you’re not sure you can keep your composure. you were barely hanging on by a thread as it was. you distantly think maybe it’s your subconscious telling you that you need to get laid. you almost scoff at the thought.

yes. it has been some time since you last slept with someone, but there is no way that was causing the dreams. if that was the case you would be having dreams about more than just dazai. he was simply plaguing your mind and you think you might go insane if this kept going on.

so instead of dealing with it like a sane person, because you aren’t right now, you decide to take it out on the very man that has been haunting your mind. “i’m trying to get my work done and i’m certainly not in the mood. go bother atsushi if you’re bored, dazai.”

you hear a small complaint come from across the desk and look up to see atsushi giving you an accusatory expression. you immediately feel guilty for throwing him under the bus and finally relax for the first time all day. you toss the weretiger an apologetic smile then whip around to glare at dazai for a moment.

”i changed my mind. you’re buying me lunch at the cafe. let’s go.” you don’t give dazai any time to answer. you save your work, shut your laptop and promptly stand up and walk off. you weren’t going to give dazai any room to argue. you figured if he didn’t follow then he wasn’t that curious and you got to enjoy a break in silence.

unfortunately you hear dance-like footsteps coming from behind you, indicating that dazai was, in fact, following. you both step into the elevator and about halfway down dazai finally opens his mouth.

”so, what’s got a beautiful woman such as yourself in such a mood today?” his smile is lazy and eyes dull.

you hate this. you hate when he acts like this. you do genuinely like dazai, just not this version of him. the shut off version, the one that puts on a facade and plays with people for fun. you don’t have much time to think about it though. the elevator jolts to a sudden stop and dings, indicating that you’ve made it to the ground floor. you scurry out of the small space and make your way to the cafe.

when you enter your mood instantly sours seeing that it wasn’t lucy in today, but rather the waitress dazai is always making eyes at and wistfully requesting her to perform a double suicide with him. you muster up a smile to offer the owner and wave at him before taking your seat at one of the booths. dazai plops himself on the other side across from you.

the waitress comes over and you brace yourself for the encounter that’s about to transpire. dazai watches you closely, head tilting to the side curiously.

“welcome, detectives, what can i get you started with today?” her smile is sweet and you feel bad for your previous annoyance. it’s not her fault dazai doesn’t understand the art of subtlety.

dazai speaks up before you can get a chance to. “go on, bella, you order whatever you want.” dazai addresses his attention to the waitress next. “everything will be going on my tab, miss waitress.”

”how very generous of you, mr. dazai. i assume you finally invested in that life insurance policy i recommended?” her smile is sweet but her words are clipped and condescending. you let out a little snort as dazai starts to sweat a little.

before dazai can quip back, you order. “i’ll take an iced latte and the sandwich of the day, please.”

“of course miss. what about you, mr. dazai?”

dazai almost shrinks at her faux warm demeanor. “i’ll just take a cup of coffee.”

you raise your brow at him disapprovingly and before the waitress can scurry off you quickly get out, “can you make sure my sandwich is cut in half?”

she smiles at you genuinely and nods her head. after she walks off you catch dazai staring at you once again. you know he’s about to speak again and you dread whatever it is that’s going to fall from those surprisingly full lips of his.

“so, are you going to tell me what’s gotten your panties in a twist all day?”

nice.

how eloquent of him.

you scowl at him and hiss out, “could you not refer to it as that?”

”sorry, bella. would you rather i ask why you’ve been so sour all day in a different way?” dazai grins at you clearly pleased at getting a rise out of you.

you huff and roll your eyes. “would you believe me if i told you it’s because i had a dream of you?”

”oh? did you now? what was the dream about? you must regale me with all of the details.” dazai sets his elbows on the table in between the two of you. his fingers intertwine and he rests his head atop his hands.

it’s almost eerie, the way he’s looking at you but you can’t quite place why. you wince internally realizing your mistake. how the hell are you supposed to tell dazai that you fantasized about— no. you didn’t fantasize, it was a dream. a creation of your subconscious. not of your control. you want to shrivel up and die.

how the hell are you supposed to explain that to dazai?

you don’t. it’s the only sane reasoning you can come up with. but now you have to scramble to come up with something to dazai. the longer you just blankly stare at him the more suspicious he’s going to get. you can see it in the way his eyes become hooded and his right brow shifts up.

dazai perks up a bit and, oh god, here it comes. the realization you’ve been dreading. “don’t tell me you dreamt about me in that way.” he hums dramatically. “what a naughty girl, thinking about your colleague in such a way~”

you involuntary freeze. sure you knew this was coming but there is no way he saw through you that easily. he came to that conclusion so fast and you know for a fact you aren’t an easy person to read unless you want someone to. he couldn’t have just picked up on your thoughts like that. no, you have to remind yourself this is dazai osamu. he could have done exactly that. regardless, you refuse to admit it to yourself, let alone dazai.

“absolutely n-“ you’re cut off by the waitress dropping off your drinks and the sandwich.

clearly she understood what you meant by your earlier request because she brings you an extra plate. you thank her one more time before she walks off. placing the slightly bigger half of the sandwich on the extra plate and scooting it towards dazai.

“eat.” he looks at you curiously but obliges when you give him an expectant glare.

you know he won’t drop the previous subject but luckily for you he’s too busy with eating to make much conversation. you both enjoy your respective halves of the delicious sandwich in silence. it was peaceful, a stark contrast to what usually transpired when you’re with dazai. you observe him quietly, subtly, as you chew on the last bite of your food.

he’s picking at the bread after only two bites. his coffee was finished within the first few minutes of it being set in front of him. a clear avoidance. keeping himself busy with sipping on his coffee so he wouldn’t have to eat. the few bites were to appease you. unfortunately for him you know all of those tricks, maybe a little too well.

you cross your arms over your chest and think about this tactically, you know if you scold him outright he’ll brush it off easily. you have to think like him for a moment. what would he do if your positions were switched.

playing dumb. “you know, it’s not very polite to let a lady eat more than you…”

you pout and look away from him, trying to seem embarrassed. you’re not sure if it’s worked. you’re honestly too nervous to look. you think it must look real because you’re now actually embarrassed by the probably god awful acting you just displayed.

but then you hear distinct chewing and peak over to something that pleasantly surprises you. he’s taken another two bites, significantly larger than the last two, because he’s almost finished with the sandwich by the time you fully turn to look at him.

for the first time all day you finally crack a smile at him and let out a fit of giggles. dazai almost chokes on the sandwich from the sound alone. it’s a sound he’ll never get used to nor will he ever get tired of it. you’re too busy trying to calm your giggles to notice dazai’s internal struggle as he finishes off his own food all the while staring at you in amazement.

you take a few calming breaths and look at him, still all smiles. dazai resists the urge to clutch his chest, something in it stirs — an extremely alarming and foreign sensation for him. dazais nerves are suddenly on fire. he suddenly recalls what you said earlier, how you dreamt about him. he knows you planned on denying his earlier implications but the way you paused makes him think you were having those types of dreams about him.

dazai’s fingers twitch at his sides. he’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you like that. hell, he’d probably have the same types of dreams if he actually dreamt. dazai’s breathing shallows and he need to get away from you. his self control thinning with each passing second he thinks about you in the most intimate of ways.

he knows it’s wrong. at least in your case you can’t control it. but here his is, shamelessly fantasizing about you like you aren’t sat right in front of him. dazai disgusts himself. he wants to bash his head in, his thoughts swimming, making it hard for him to focus. vision blurring and ears rushing like there’s water stuck in them.

dazai abruptly stands up and announces, “we should get back to work. kunikida will get on us if we take any longer.”

you’re so perplexed because when has dazai ever cared about what kunikida thinks about? then you notice it, the unmistakable bulge straining against the crotch of his pants. you swear you didn’t mean to look, it was just currently at eye level. you’re suddenly given an opportunity, something you need to make a decision on and quickly.

as calmly as you can, you slide out of the booth and wave to the owner and waitress before grasping onto dazai’s hand and dragging the brunette away with you. dazai is far too dazed to protest at how assertive you’re being. you lead the way to the elevator and the ride there is painstakingly quiet and slow. the second the contraption dings and the doors begin to open you’re slipping through with dazai still in tow.

the lanky man is thoroughly confused when, instead of going back to the office, you shove the two of you in the supply closet. he wants to ask but something tells him he doesn’t need to. your body language gives way that you’re going to explain yourself.

thank god there’s a lock on the inside of this room. you really did not want to relocate to the bathroom for this. dazai is still dazed, unsure of what’s happening, just letting you toss him around like a rag doll. everything is still on fire making him feel detached from his body. the sensation is almost numbing.

“you know what’s so frustrating?” your breathing is just as shallow as his is now. the ride on the elevator working you up far more than it should have.

although he’s detached, your voice anchors him. he looks down at your flushed face and he almost whimpers at the sight. he croaks out, “what is?”

“you. you’re so frustrating. your stupid act, your stupid need to play dumb, your stupid big brown eyes, your stupidly long fingers, your stupidly handsome face and your stupidly careless actions. y’know, you’ve had a hard on since you stood up at the cafe. practically shoved it in my face.” you have him trapped, his back is hitting the end of some shelves.

you don’t touch him yet. you look up at him and gauge his reaction. he seems to be battling with what he should say and you could laugh in triumph. you’ve never seen someone render the dazai osamu speechless, but you just did it with a few suggestive sentences.

dazai takes a shuddered breath collecting his wits before grinning down at you after fully processing your words. “my apologies, bella. that wasn’t my intention, but what is yours? this is quite the damning position you have me in.”

your confidence falters but you quickly recover and click your tongue. “it would be rude of me to not help you calm down… especially if i was the cause.”

you look away, embarrassed by your own proposition. dazai takes a moment. he knows what you’re implying, he’s sure of it, but he’s having a hard time wrapping his head around it. after what feels like an eternity— it’s not, you’re just being dramatic— it finally clicks in dazai’s head. you’re being serious, if the look on your face is any indication.

the detective hums and reaches out. his hand cups your face and glides up into your hair, fingers tangling with the strands and tugging just a little too harshly to be considered gentle. he was needy, you could see it in the endless sea of honey that are his irises. something was stirring.

“how am i supposed to say no to that? i’m a weak man, unable to deny a beautiful woman when she makes such an enticing offer.”

you don’t have time to bite back with a witty comment because his lips are quite literally crashing into yours. the second his chapped lips make contact with your own every single touch and action from him comes from a place of desperation. although skilled, his actions are sloppy and almost rushed. his free hand grips your waist and draws you even closer.

your hands land on his chest to brace and balance yourself. you try to catch your breath but dazai is proving that difficult with how his tongue dances along your own. his actions steal your breath away from you and make your lungs burn, screaming for relief and air.

the lack of air and the sensation of dazai’s tongue tangling with your own dizzies your head. you can’t get a proper thought out. instinctively your mouth is moving with his, tongue smoothing over his, and hands fisting at the cloth on his chest but you couldn’t move out of your own volition.

dazai pulls your head back by once again tugging at your hair. you let out an involuntary whimper, making sure to stay quiet as you gasp for air. dazai dips his head down and speaks in between littering kisses on your neck.

“i thought you were going to help me calm down, bella. so far i’m doing all the work and now i’m far more worked up than i was in the cafe.”

his words bring you crashing down to reality and you scowl. of course he would still tease you. he loves getting a rise out of you.

you don’t entertain him, though. instead your hand travels down his torso and starts tugging at his shirt. you pout at him mockingly. “i didn’t realize some mild kissing would work you up so much. ‘didn’t realize you were so sensitive -- so needy.”

dazai wants to quip back at you but as you’re talking you’re undoing his pants and your last word is emphasized by you shoving your hand down his pants. your hand almost falters when you realize he’s not wearing anything underneath. instead, though, you take your index finger and teasingly run it along his length. it feels endless, he’s long, you realize. you briefly wonder just how far, how deep, he could reach inside of you.

dazai shudders at the feather like touches to where he needs attention the most right now. you lean up and with your free hand you tug on dazais collar to bring him down to your level. your breath fans over his ear and, god, he shudders again.

you hum. “‘s this where you need attention right now?”

“yes.” dazai breathes out the word. clearly affected by the way your finger is twirling around the leaking tip of his cock.

you maintain eye contact with dazai as you sink to your knees. the implication alone has dazai’s nerves coiling tighter. he brings his hand up to cover his face, head falling back as he groans. his breathing becomes more erratic as you withdrawal your hand, he barely contain a whimper from falling past his lips at the loss of contact. but you make quick work of shocking his pants halfway down his thighs and finally freeing his strained length.

your mouth begins to salivate involuntarily. his cock is surprisingly pretty and just as you suspected — his length is impressive, definitely above average. the leaking tip is flushed pink and his veins are visibly throbbing. you want nothing more than to choke on it but first, you think you need to tease him some more.

you rest your cheek on his trembling thigh and stare up at him innocently. “osamu.” he could cum, right then and there with the way you say his given name.

dazai looks down at you. the sight in front of him bringing him embarrassingly closer to release. all dazai can muster is a hum of acknowledgment and even that sounds a little pained.

you smile at his obvious desperation. “if i help you out here you need to follow a couple rules. be quiet and no touching. think you can do that for me?”

dazai tries so hard to pay attention to your words but barely registers them. did you say no touching? no touching what? and him being quiet? a bold request of him.

you seem pleased with how quick he is to nod at you in obedience. you waste no time, ready to indulge both of your fantasies. you lick a long stripe along the vein on the underside of his cock. dazai is twitching at the one action alone. how embarrassing of him — you both have the same thought.

the brunette’s fingers itch to touch you but his mind is coherent enough to remember your stipulations. no touching. how cruel of you. to resist that temptation when you’re making him feel this good is just downright wicked.

you don’t miss the way his fists clench in a desperate attempt to keep his word. how could you not reward him for that? listening to you like such a good and obedient puppy. your tongue darts out to swirl around his flushed tip. the taste of his precum floods your tastebuds and you’re instantly hooked like an addict to their drug of choice. dazai’s taste was your new vice.

your lips wrap around his head and you hollow your cheeks. dazai is panting. his head spinning from the pleasure at just the slightest of touches from you. his head hangs back and he brings his fist to his mouth and bites down. he wants to groan, wants to whimper, wants to moan your name. but you’ve denied him that privilege and he has a feeling that you would be merciless if he gave in and disregarded your requests.

you take more of him with each bob of your head and with each stroke of your tongue you unravel the tight coil that had formed in dazai’s stomach. he was already so close. what a sight it would be to watch you choke over him as he spills everything he has directly down your throat. the thought almost undoes him. he bites down on his fist harder and he thinks he may have broken skin.

you observe dazai and it’s all so hot. his pants, his facial expressions, the way sweat is starting to form on his face and cause his hair to stick to it. you can feel yourself getting worked and you’re impatient. thank god the weather permitted you to wear a pencil skirt instead of the usual slack you usually wear. you use your free hand to bunch up your skirt at your waist. the actions makes your movements on dazai’s cock a little sloppy. he hadn’t noticed yet but his brows furrow as if he’s starting to. you try to fix your pace but it’s too late. he is already picking up his head and peering down at you.

you were trying to touch yourself. if his head wasn’t already spinning this is what would be what sent him into a spiral. you had the audacity to call him needy but then in turn do something like this. it was unfair.

Dazai can’t help himself. “bella, are you trying to touch yourself?” it comes out as a teasing whisper. you don’t miss the amusement in his voice.

you suppose you asked him to stay quiet, not to stay silent.

still, your brows furrow and you ever so slightly graze your teeth against his cock. the sensation is something dazai sickeningly loves. his eyes are rolling back into his head and he let’s out a short moan. it’s quiet and you’re quite annoyed that he’s found a loophole.

you can’t deny that his noises aren’t doing something for you, though. you’re even more desperate than before to slip out of your panties. you maneuver around and manage to shimmy them off. it’s almost embarrassing how wet the crotch of them are. you try to care but you just can bring yourself to do so when dazai’s hips begin to thrust and force the small bit of his length you’ve been unable to touch down your throat.

you gag around him and dazai’s grasping at the shelves behind him for leverage. you spread your legs the best you can, being on your knees like this and sneak your hand up your thigh. you can feel the heat radiating off of you. you run a finger through your slick and moan around dazai when the digit brushes your clit.

“fuck, fuck, fuck ‘s so good, bella. your mouth ‘s so perfect for me.” his voice is hushed and breathy.

you’re not even listening to his babble as your nose continues to brush against his pelvis every time your sucking him back into your mouth. gagging, choking, on his cock. your eyes are watery, tears spilling from that and the sensation coming from below your pelvis. your finger makes expert work of your clit.

it’s too much.

you can’t breath right, dazai can’t think right, you gag with every thrust, dazai can’t control his stuttering hips, your one hand is playing with yourself and the other reaches up to cup dazai’s balls.

it’s not only too much for you, it’s too much for dazai. the added sensation makes nerve, every cell, every fiber that makes up dazai ignite. he was about to cum, he needed to warn you. he needed to open his mouth and say something but it just flapped, no noise was coming out.

you bob your head back and peer up at dazai, his erratic breathing becoming suspiciously loud. the look on his face is absolutely breathtaking — it’s flushed, almost beet red, tears of his own trickle down his cheeks in droplets. he looked like a fallen angel, beautiful and dangerous all at the same time.

you moan at the sight. fingers traveling down to your entrance and slowly pushing through. you suck in a breath and fold your lips over your teeth to keep yourself from grazing his length with them. the initial stretch feels divine but your fingers themselves aren’t enough. you need dazai’s twitching cock inside your cunt.

you note that dazais cock is throbbing painfully and starts to twitch quite a lot.

oh, you realize, he’s going to cum.

you smirk deviously. you push your mouth down on dazai until his tip is hitting the back of your throat. with your eyes still on him you hollow your cheeks and swallow. dazai almost yelps at the added stimulation. his head snaps up and finally his attention is on you.

“shit.” he hisses, this time a little louder, so you glare up at him. “sorry- sorry but- fuck- gonna cum, please, ‘m so close.”

the second those words leave his mouth you’re backing up and removing your fingers from yourself. dazai let’s out a mangled noise, something between a sob and laugh. it was almost unnerving but the blissed out look on dazai’s face tells you he’s enjoying this game far more than the average person.

you watch his chest heave, his breathing heavy. his face is as red as a blooming rose. you think it’s a sort of beautiful sight to see. dazai never gets flustered, so seeing him like this, you can’t help but to feel special.

you stand up as you pout at him, mock empathy written all over your face. “sorry, did you wanna cum? don’t think i can have that quite yet. not when you haven’t even fucked me. right, osamu?”

there it is again, the sound of his given name falling from your lips. something in dazai snaps. the thread of his sanity that you’d been stretching thin ever since the cafe finally tore in two. his eyes darken dangerously and you only have a moment to realize the shift before he’s picking you up by your thighs and wrapping them around his thin waist. you can feel his stiff cock lightly bouncing against your ass as he flips you around and pins you against the shelves.

his head dips down and he lips scant across the skin of your neck. he’s careful to only leave feather light touches. scraping the rough skin of his mouth on one of your most sensitive areas sends a shock of electricity through your body. you so badly want to tug at his hair but you’re coherent enough to realize your fingers are still coated in your own slick.

you smile slyly at the detective as he peers at you through his ridiculously long lashes. you grab his chin delicately and bring your soiled fingers to his lips. his eyes light up in immediate realization. he wordlessly opens his mouth, tongue lolling out a bit as he happily waits for his treat like a puppy, you can practically see his tail wagging. you let out a breathless laugh, because you think you may be screwed. dazai osamu has you wrapped around his pretty and lithe fingers and you think he already knew that.

you think about making him beg for it but you’re so momentarily mesmerized by the brunette that you find yourself leaning in and gently interesting the digits into his mouth. dazai is quick to appreciate your offering. his lips encase your fingers and his tongue makes quick work of lapping up and savoring your taste.

dazai’s hip involuntarily rut into yours and you can’t help yourself. all the pent up frustration you’ve felt since the dreams started finally gets to your head. you’re desperate to feel him inside of you. a sensation you were always denied of, waking up before actually getting fucked by the very man holding you each time. you reach down to guide his cock then expertly shift your hips and he becomes perfectly aligned with your entrance. dazai is sucking on your fingers but his actions become sloppy as he watches what you’re doing with intense concentration.

you waste no time sinking yourself down on his length, he’s already well coated in your slick and eases into you. you bite on your lip to avoid making any obscene noises but dazai snaps you into reality when he carelessly moans loudly. you panic and shove your fingers further into his mouth. he hums appreciatively and if his hips rocking into yours didn’t feel so good you’d hop off his cock right then and there and leave him blue balled. you could bring yourself to do that though, not when you’ve been waiting for this for so long.

you settle for hissing out, “shut the fuck up, dazai.”

dazai gives you a shit eating grin as he snakes an arm under your ass and squeezes before slowly shifting his hips away from yours, leaving you virtually empty, before sliding himself back into you at the same painstakingly slow pace. he repeats the slowed movements a few times before you’re slipping your fingers out of his mouth and bracing yourself on his shoulders. you try to move your hips on your own but dazai is quick to catch you.

“ah, ah, bella. can’t have you doing whatever you want right now. unless you want me to get louder, you’ll let me set the pace.” his voice is slightly strained and hushed, but despite his seriousness, you can hear the tiniest bit of teasing mixed in.

you let out a whine but resign to him setting the pace. in the meantime your fingers find their way to his hair and tug. dazais hips stutter, showing you that he is far too needy to take full control. taking full advantage of just how distracted he is, you grind your hips into the detective’s with each thrust and dip your head to leave sloppy wet kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

“shit, you’ve been so wound tight all the time lately that even your perfect cunt has a vice grip on me. it’s so perfect, feels so good.” you can tell how hard dazai is trying to be quiet and you note that you should reward him for that later.

it doesn’t take long for his pace to increase, his rapid movements making the shelves behind you rock and creak. dazai still seems displeased with the pace, his brows knitting together in concentration. you catch his eyes flitting to your neck and lingering there.

you’ve always worn your tie loose, the first couple buttons if your dress shirt undone. it drives dazai mad. your neck and cleavage are always on display in the most tasteful way. he wants nothing more than to run his hand over your velvety soft skin and wrap his nimble fingers around your neck. now that he has the chance to do so, he can’t pass up the opportunity.

your grip in his hair tightens as he shifts you, keeping you up with one arm as he keeps his pace. you have no room to question him when the new positioning has his cock nudging your sweet spot so deliciously. your head becomes dizzy and your mouth falls open in a silent moan.

dazai’s hand travels up your body, palm flush with your skin so he can feel every bump and curve. he starts at your upper abdomen and slithers it up. he completely ignores your breasts which you vaguely think was his goal. you have no time to act surprise over it bc his hand is gently wrapping around your neck. he wants to squeeze, fingers twitching, but he resigns to a light grip to simply test the waters.

your response is something he wasn’t expecting. your eyes roll back and you let out a hushed whimper. that’s when he realizes, he wants to do this forever. he wants to fuck you senseless so he can see that beautiful expression on your face forever. so he can feel you tightly wrapped around him forever. dazai wants you forever. the fleeting thought scares him just a little but he has no time to dwell on it because the coil in his stomach is unraveling once again.

“dazai-“ your interrupted by him bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. you think the noises from the kiss alone are far more obscene than the noises from him bullying his cock into you, which is a hard feat considering those are, by no means, quiet or pure.

when the brunette detaches himself he breathes out. “osamu- shit- ‘s osamu…”

“osamu. ‘m gonna cum. so close- please.” you let out a quiet sob as you babble.

dazai has no time to respond. it’s embarrassing, the way he can’t even give you any other warning but him shoving his face in your shoulder, grip tightening around your throat ever so slightly. the whimper he lets out tells you everything you need to know before he starts spilling his cum inside of you.

the throbbing of his cock and sensation of him filling you up has your walls contracting and you’re diving off the deep end yourself. you bite your lip hard. desperate trying to keep yourself from making more noise than the whines sticking in your throat. your vision blurs and and hearing goes muffled as your senses become overwhelmed by your high.

dazai is still rutting his hips into you, guiding you through your orgasm despite his twitches and obvious overstimulation. when you come back to your senses, dazai is whimpering a lot louder than previously. his grip on your neck is lost as he leaves soothing strokes on your side. you tug at his hair to lift his head so you can look at him.

his face is somehow even more flushed than earlier, you’re almost concerned. the look in his eyes though makes something stir inside of you. his glazed over and hooded eyes, completely unfocused. his lips parted as he’s letting out short and shuddered puffs of air. dazai has lost all senses but the feeling of him inside of you.

“osamu. hey- look at me. you need to calm-“ you his when his rutting becomes more intense, thrusts becoming less shallow but hips and cock still twitching wildly, you have to stop him otherwise you’ll both lose yourselves in this supply closet and you can’t afford to do that when everyone is still in the office next door. “osamu we need to get back.”

dazai seems to have regained some of his consciousness. “again.”

you let out a breathless laugh, eyes glimmering in genuine amusement and adoration. “not right now. later. we need to get back. i have a case i need to finish working on.”

dazai finally fully comes back to you and he lightens up at the promise of later. that means this isn’t just a one time thing. something in that back of his head always told him if he crossed that line with you, things wouldn’t be the same, he’d only have one shot. but your words are such a relief he could cry. he can’t help himself, he has to clarify.

“later? after work and… again anytime after that?” his eyes are pleading and hopeful and you can’t help but melt under his soft gaze.

you nod and open your mouth to affirm his statement but you're rudely interrupted by a loud rapping at the closet door. “you two better have not done any of that by my emergency snack stash and you better clean up after yourselves. hurry up, i can't keep stalling and kunikida needs staples.”

ranpo’s voice rings throughout the room. you groan in embarrassment and bury yourself into his chest. dazai lets out a gleeful laugh still dizzyingly drunk on the idea of your promise.

#dazai x reader #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #dazai x you #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x you #dazai x fem!reader #bsd x fem!reader #bungo stray dogs x fem!reader #bsd dazai #᯽. banners/dividers made by @/cafekitsune #᯽. éli originals

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gtgbabie0 · 10 months

Note

Hi I was wondering if you could possibly make a cute regulus oneshot where regulus is just admiring the reader and compliments them in french knowing the reader doesn't understand. I love your posts so much. Hope you have a good day! 🌷🌟

-Regulus Black x reader

{Regulus loves to whisper French endearments to you}

Thank you lovely! 💕 also if there are any mistakes with the French please let me know and I’ll fix it right away, enjoy lovelies! 💕

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Another sigh falls from your lips as you stretch your arms before laying down against the soft picnic blanket, the feeling of the material against your skin only elicits another sigh which in turn makes Regulus let out a breathy chuckle, looking down at you with soft eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asks pushing your hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear, he smiles, an expression overflowing with love. You look up at him, your hand shielding your eyes from the afternoon sun as it casts down against you both, and you notice the way its orangey light dusts against his skin making him glow, just like an angel.

“Yeah, m’just getting a little tired” you whisper, and you watch as he lays down on his front, chin propped up on his elbows. He looks down at you and there’s something in his expression that melts you completely.

He leans down to press a kiss or two against your jaw and then another to the corner of your mouth, smiling into the small peck. Regulus never fails to make you go all giddy, the small touches and his love-filled eyes, that have you hiding your face behind your hands.

You can hear him 'tut' slightly as his fingers wrap around your wrist, the warmth of his hand against yours as he guides them away from your face.

“There we go,” he says with a smile, the sight has your chest blooming with warmth. He leans into you once again before whispering, “Tu es tres jolie” his lips peppering kisses against your face, and you swear your heart is skipping beats.

The words leave his mouth so beautifully and even if you haven’t the slightest idea of what they mean they still seem so heavenly. In all honesty, he could be insulting you, the thought makes you chuckle.

You watch as he frowns slightly, tilting his head with slight confusion. “You could be insulting me, I would never know,” you tell him, Regulus shakes his head, his curls that frame his face bouncing as he does so.

“I would never” he gasps with fake offence, a hand over his heart, “Je t'aime tellement” he whispers, his hand resting on your hips as he lets his head fall against your shoulder.

“I still don’t understand” Your fingers thread through his wind-tussled hair and you can feel him chuckle against you.

“Do you want me to tell you?” He asks, sitting up slightly as he kisses your cheek, you nod with a small ‘Mhm’

He smiles, excitement flashing through his eyes as he pulls you up, both sitting crossed-legged on top of the soft blanket he whispers a quiet ‘Okay’ before he speaks again, “Tu es tres jolie” he says slowly, breaking down the words for you.

And for what you lack in knowledge of the language you make up for with passion, and he stifles his laughter behind his hand, “Hey! Don’t laugh, I’m trying” you tell him with a slight twinge of embarrassment.

“I’m not laughing at you,” he says taking your hands in his, fingers entwined as he rests them on his lap, “Now listen carefully” he tells you as he repeats the words even more slowly.

“Tu es tres jolie” You give him a weary smile and he nods.

“Perfect” he praises you, his thumb smoothing over the bumps of your knuckles, “It means, you are very pretty” he leans forward pressing his lips against yours, your noses bumping slightly with the action, and his gentle words leave you feeling all floaty.

He doesn’t have time to pull away before your arms wrap around his shoulders pulling him back into you as you kiss him, although it doesn’t last too long as you both end up smiling, which makes you both break out in a fit of giggles.

“Teach me more?” You ask, forehead resting against his.

“Of course beautiful,” he says, and he spends a good hour teaching you, enjoying how interested you seem to be. The sun will eventually set, and both you and Regulus pack away your small picnic into a basket before walking back to your quaint little village house, arms linked.

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lxndonorris · 3 months

Text

on to the green - Lando Norris

Y/N x Lando Norris Theme: Smutish, Teasing, Touching Lando invites you to try golf for the first time x word count: 1230+ taglist: @game-set-canet open for requests :)

On a sun-kissed day at the golf course, you find yourself amidst the lush greenery, a beginner navigating the world of golf alongside your boyfriend Lando, who's very passionate about it.

The gentle breeze carries the scent of freshly cut grass as you observe him effortlessly mastering the swings, his passion and expertise evident in each precise moment.

"Off you go." Lando grunts softly, showing off his golfing prowess with a flawless swing that sends the ball gliding toward the distance. Both of you watch the ball as it makes its way farther and farther away.

After effortlessly sending the ball to the green, Lando approaches you with confident strides, a huge smile lighting up his face. The satisfaction of a successful swing lingers in his eyes as he stands before you.

"That was fantastic." You compliment him and place a hand on his firm chest to stroke him lovingly. Feeling his muscles tense slightly at your gentle touch, you bite your lower lip.

"Thank you." He blushes slightly and leans in to kiss you gently. "Now, it is your turn." Lando bows and motions for you to give it a try.

Excitement mingles with a touch of nervousness as you prepare yourself to do your best. Swallowing hard, club in hand, you contemplate the upcoming swing. The weight of the moment presses on you as uncertainty creeps in, making the prospect of hitting the ball a daunting challenge.

With a deep breath, you look at Lando for assurance, hoping for guidance through the nervous anticipation of your turn on the green.

"Want me to help you?" He asks softly, and you nod.

He then approaches you again, positioning himself behind you, his experienced hands gently guiding yours to the club. His fingers run along your arm, barely brushing over your skin, but that's enough to send shivers down your spine.

"Like this." Lando breathes deeply, and you feel his warm breath right behind your ear. His hands lay over yours, and together, he guides them to the right spot.

Flustered, you blush heavily as you now feel his chest pressing gently against your back. Just then, the deeper you breathe, the more you take in the faint scent of his cologne—his usual, familiar scent.

"How...do I?" Your voice breaks as he molds your posture into the correct stance. The warmth of his support eases the tension, yet feeling him that close also ignites a spark deep inside your belly.

"Focus on yourself, take deep breaths, and visualize what you want to do." Lando whispers, subconsciously stroking your hands with his thumbs. He then moves in a little closer, and you hold back a low gasp.

"Okay." You nod and breathe deeply. Together, you move as one, and with a huge swing, you send the ball toward the green. Not quite perfect, but also not bad for the first time.

Excited, you turn around, an enormous smile forming on your lips.

"Very nice." Lando admits, and tilts his head, looking at you with love and admiration shining through his pretty eyes.

"Just because you helped me." You wave it off, but he shakes his head.

"I can see talent when it's in front of me." Lando raises an eyebrow as you take a few steps back. It's his turn; this is your opportunity to watch him perform again.

In his stylish, tight golf attire, he exudes a confident charm. The combination of well-fitted clothes and the sporty aesthetic complements his physique and accentuates his features perfectly; you just love how fit he is, and he knows it.

His tight shirt barely hides his thick arms and firm chest; it's quite the opposite. The fabric runs along his shoulders and down his arms, flattering his beautiful biceps. His dark jeans, his shoes, and his cap complete his attire.

Lando moves in a way to show off: he flexes his arms and his pecs on purpose, turns around to give you a good look at his arse, or runs a hand down his waist and along his thighs, drawing your attention to the slight bulge hidden by his black pants.

Another low grunt and a masterful swing snap you out of your daydream. Blinking a few times, you smile as Lando turns to you, running both of his hands across his chest and down to his waist.

"Incredible." You watch him stroll toward you, a slight swagger in his step.

"I'm just showing off." He smirks and reaches for your waist, pulling you into him for another sweet and tender kiss.

Steadying yourself against his chest once more, you stroke him gently, feeling his hard nipples through his shirt.

"Mhmm." He purrs happily, enjoying your strokes.

"You're good at that." You pull away slightly, your lips just inches away from one another.

"Golf, or showing off?" Lando teases you, with his hands running along your waistline to rest on your butt, securely holding you in place.

"Do you need an answer?" You shake your head and raise your eyebrow, causing a mischievous smile to form in the corner of his lips.

"I think I'm good, thanks." He licks his lips before kissing you again.

Feeling his soft lips gives you goosebumps. At the same time, he starts to stroke the small of your back, moving a little closer and bascially hugging you tight.

"How about we spice it up a little?" You propose, running a hand down his chest and around his waist, to feel his butt through his pants as well.

"What do you have in mind?" He replies, his voice carrying a mixture of curiosity and playfulness.

"Loser prepares dinner." You challenge him, feeling his body tense a little harder as he gets more and more into your gentle strokes.

"You've got a deal." Lando smiles appreciatively and separates himself from you, giving you space to go for a swing.

You step up to the tee with determination and take several deep breaths. As your focus shifts toward your goal, drawing on the guidance Lando shared earlier, you execute a surprisingly skilled swing, sending the ball gracefully to the green.

Seeing the ball rest on the green, a surge of excitement courses through your entire body. The unexpected success brings a rush of joy and pride, and you can't help but feel thrilled about the good swing.

With a gigantic smile, you turn around to find Lando casually leaning against his club. "That was so hot," he compliments you, his voice a little rougher than usual.

"Thanks, babé." You giggle happily.

As he takes his turn, his stance looks so good, just like always. Yet, his typically precise swing deliberately misses the green by a long shot.

A knowing look passes between you, revealing his intentional miss. It becomes evidently clear that the dinner challenge wasn't about competition but rather a playful setup for him to take care of you tonight.

"Guess you've won." He tilts his head and approaches you slowly.

"You're an idiot, Lando." You nudge him as he wraps you in a warm hug again.

"Yeah, I know." He giggles, the warmth of his body slowly engulfing you as well. "So, what do you want for dinner?"

Lando's eyes sparkle as you contemplate for a little while.

"Maybe some takeout?" You smile, and he nods in agreement.

Together, you practice your swings for a little while longer before you head out for dinner.

#lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #lando norris smut #formula 1 x reader

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amelee23 · 2 months

Text

Natural | Lee Minho

Genre: FLUFFFFFF fluff fluff, romance

Pairing: Lee know x gender neutral reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: going on a forest vacay to escape society, SUPER sappy cheesy stuff, SOFT, walks at 6 am, kisses and hugs and everything nice, a chokehold as a joke, humour, metaphors galore, he's cat dad, reader gets called kitten once, I love lino very much, promises for the future 🤭

Summary: You and Minho go on a vacation to a forest cabin. As he wakes you up at 6 am for a walk, you can't help but get sappy and admire him alongside the landscape. Your love for him makes Minho say something that might change your perspective of the future.

You were gently shaken awake a little too early for comfort. First thing you felt was the heft of your eyelids and a subtle throbbing in your forehead; but the first thing you remembered, though, was the way you have probably fallen asleep having extremely soft conversations with your lover, about how far the both of you have come, the things you've accomplished, how proud you feel of each other and also of your friends who you grew up with.

"The sun's not even awake yet." You grumble to him, and he gives you a silly smile.

"But I am!" You can't help but snort, still pushing your nose further into the pillows. You didn't want to get out of bed, really. "C'mon, get up. Go on a walk with me."

"At this hour? Ugh, you're so random sometimes." You say, grumbling, but you start moving out of the bed.

It probably wasn't random at all. If you were to make a guess, it was probably premeditated and he had some sort of intention for taking a walk in the woods at 6 in the morning.

Well, he hoped it would be 6 in the morning but your drowsiness didn't allow for it. He had to be patient, make you coffee and a light breakfast, or else you'd turn blue like the cookie monster and eat him alive without food and caffeine in your system.

You looked out the window as the two of you were silently enjoying breakfast. It was such a beautiful sight, and if you just allowed it, the cherry chirp of the birds in the morning was enough to block the demons inside your head.

Although he had woken you up at ungodly hours, this was the vacation you both dreamt of. You rented out a cabin in the forest, and it was, for once, just you and him. The last people you've seen were in a different cabin 10 minutes down the road, and the center rental establishment that had groceries and necessities was 20 minutes away. Of course, it could prove to be a pain in the ass if you didn't prepare well, but you made sure you had everything you needed - so that you could truly disconnect from the world and let yourselves be swallowed up by nature.

You should have guessed Minho was always planning to go on this walk, considering how serious he seemed about it. While you were eating and trying to awaken your brain cells, he got dressed in a cozy shirt, loose pants and a backwards cap and he was already arranging a small backpack with water bottles and his Polaroid camera. He went as far as packing an external phone battery, too. Then he sat down next to you and waited.

You've gotten to know his array of expressions so well, you thought. He was looking at you, and to an outsider his expression would tell them close to nothing. But no, his expression looked gentle, kind, patient, impatient, exasperated and excited all at once. You could see how eager he was to move, almost as if his body was half-way already bolting out the door. Still, he was trying to maintain his calm, since there was no point to the outside views that awaited him if you weren't seeing them with him.

Your eyes met as you were admiring him, and almost like a kitten pawing for attention, he gently pulled at the sleeve of your pyjama shirt.

You were so in love with him, it wasn't even funny.

He began your little nature adventure by holding your hand and guiding you to the forest path, but as soon as you could hear the crunch of pebbles and branches under your feet, Minho was gone. He walked far ahead of you, as if he was caught in a trance. It was so weird, because in reality all you could see was his slumped back, his sluggish figure trudging through the forest, but in your mind he was running, he was twirling, he was opening his arms large to welcome the sun into an embrace. If only he would let the freedom that guides his soul be seen, without the fear of being judged or the weight of society pressing down on him.

You weren't mad he left you behind. In fact, you were having a blast just watching him: trip over a rock when he was too occupied looking at the height of the pine trees, taking pictures with his phone of every and any flower he deemed pretty or interesting, whispering "squirrel" and "hello little buddy" whenever he saw a critter.

He would turn around and look at you once in a while to reassure himself you're there and that you're safe. (And weren't stolen by some forest goblin.) Whenever he'd make a pit stop to take pictures you'd catch up with him and he'd ask you if you're okay, if you're bored or if you want him to slow down his pace. You'd tell him no, you'd tell him he's so endearing being in his natural element. And he'd smile, but it wouldn't be the kind of smile that shows a collection of pearly whites or spreads from one ear to the other. Not even his bunny teeth would show; it would be a closed-lipped, subtle smile, that you found was the most meaningful of them all when it came to Minho. It was the smile of "I feel content", it was the smile of "I feel at peace". Put in simple words, it was the smile of "I'm happy." His happiness was quiet, that was what you observed. And this smile, the truest of them all, showed in various situations: when he was taking walks in nature, when he was preparing a meal, when he was playing with his feline babies, and when he was spending time with you. You were part of his silent happiness, and you were perhaps, one of the only ones who knew what it meant.

And understanding one's personality, one's inner workings is not exactly an easy feat. Just how it took millennia for humanity to understand the laws of the universe, Minho thought it would take decades for someone to understand him. That is, if someone ever did.

But when you arrived, it was as if you were an enforcer fighting for the preservation of nature. A flower is most beautiful when it is on the field that it belongs to, rather than being plucked and put into a bouquet, forced to look beautiful for someone else. You preserved the flower where it was. You didn't uproot it. You gave him water, nourishment and talked to him in such a loving manner, that now he blooms so beautifully.

He's become much more beautiful than a human being should ever be.

Minho stopped one more time to take a picture of the path, and the shadows the trees were casting on the ground. A ray of light sneakily made its way through them, casting itself on a ladybug that was climbing up the tree bark. Minho took a picture of the ladybug, then turned towards the stray light and offered his hand to it. He played with the light between his fingers, let it roll along his palm, and then he put his hand down. He looked up, towards the sky, more golden strands of the sun dancing along his face, and he took a deep breath. When he exhaled, his chest looked lighter, and he seemed to begin to shine, a light sparkle dusting the skin of his arms, as if he was really becoming one with the sun.

He was breathtaking.

Having finally caught up with him, your arms circled his waist and you embraced him tightly, cheek smushing into his shoulder blades. It was an urge, an instinct, to do so.

He seemed a little startled, but he didn't complain. He patted your hands gently and then he took a picture of your hands woven so tightly around his torso, without catching his or your face in the picture. You knew that because it became his lockscreen after that day.

As softly as he could muster, as if to not scare you off, Minho held your hand and spun around to face you, his eyes sparkly and curious.

"Everything okay?"

"Mhm." You respond, holding him by the waist as if to show you didn't want him going anywhere. Minho loved the warmth that enveloped him. "You just looked so natural, so genuine." You smile at him, and he instantly knows by your grin you were having a poetic, sappy moment. "You always look like you belong right in nature. Had to touch you to make sure you're real." You emphasize your words by squeezing a little bit at his hips and the skin above his ribs, and he lets out a cat-like yelp that makes you giggle.

You become an entanglement of limbs when Minho decides to cup both sides of your face as you're holding him. Your face slightly mushed together, he angles your eyes to look into his, and none of you would win the competition of who's more enamoured than the other.

"Sometimes I really can't help but wonder... what are those pretty eyes of yours seeing when you look at me?" He asks in the softest way possible, and you're suddenly caught in a trance. His eyes pull you closer, his skin continues to sparkle, and a gentle warm breeze seems to circle the two of you.

"Magic." You answer, promptly, with certainty, still bewitched by the portrait of him among the trees. He lets out a puff of hair as he chuckles, but he doesn't mock you. He caressed your face with his thumb and you too feel warm.

"Magic?"

"It's like the magic of nature is coursing through you..." You begin to rant, but figure out finding the right words is quite a challenge. But Minho was patient. "It's hard to explain. It's like you're out of this world ... and yet the most human I've ever seen someone be... The most natural." Minho has heard this song and dance before. Countless of times you've called him a forest fairy, a fae, a nymph...but to him the most fascinating part of it was how you were able to tell. You could see where he belonged, where he shone the brightest. You allowed him to realize when he was happy and not be scared of that happiness; therefore, there was only one thought forming at the back of his mind. A thought, that was of course, completely random and not something he's thought about hundreds of times before while you were sound asleep.

"Marry me." He blurts out, and you blink at him, awaiting a grin, a laugh, a smirk, a signal of a joke. But there was none. He was solemn and focused as he watched the slight panic in your gaze.

"Do you really mean it?"

"Yes. I mean, not now. Someday." He answers in a split of a second. But then, he backs out as if burnt. Maybe, just maybe, he let his impulses get the better of him. "Why, do you not feel the same? It's okay, you can tell me if I'm being too pushy-" He's panicking, and panic doesn't fit his handsome features. So you grab him by the shoulders and kiss him with passion.

Kissing Minho was addicting.

"You're the first person I've ever liked kissing this much." You confess to him after you break apart. Then, you wrap your arms around him yet again and rest your head on his chest, your ear prying in to listen to the alarmed pace of his heart. You squeeze him tight, so very tight, almost like he was a teddy bear. "The first person I've liked holding so much." His heart continued to drum, for he was confused about what you were saying. Was he getting an answer to his question or was this your subtle way of switching the subject, saying that you weren't ready yet? Minho tries to calm down in order to focus on what you were saying. "The only one for which romance made sense." You begin to explain, your cheek still tightly pressed into his chest. You're calm and you speak in what is almost a whisper. "Feelings aren't supposed to be logical, I know, but... being with you is. It's logical... it just makes sense, being in love with you. I can never blame myself for it, never hold myself accountable. Because falling in love with you ...came to me as naturally as breathing; like it was always part of my DNA."

There is a nature in all of us. Cells, stardust, but mostimportantly, love. To love is human nature, fact discovered ever since medieval times. Whether you loved God like Dante, or loved humans like Boccaccio, it is destined for all of us to love.

"Because I'm nature...?"

He was human, he was nature, and towards him you felt only that which is most natural.

"Because you're nature. And I love nature." You pull back to look at him and are startled to see the ocean of his eyes, the reflection of stars in the sea. He was trying not to cry, and looking at you with the fondness of a thousand families.

"Nature loves you too, kitten." Once more he holds your face close, but this time around he leans down to kiss you on the forehead. It is a long kiss. It is a warm kiss. It is a meaningful kiss. "The whole world does. And I do even more." Words like these touched chords inside your heart you didn't even know could be touched. Minho always told you so, that you weren't just worthy of his love, but the love of every single person on this planet.

"Yeah, I bet the world loves me if they gave me you." You say, and Minho thinks you are joking. You weren't, but there was perhaps a limit of how sappy a moment can be until it gets truly too much.

"Ew." He jokes back, scrunching his nose to fake disgust. A grin appears on his face, which you mimic.

And that's all you do for a while. Like a movie panorama, you stay there to look at each other. The clouds, the trees, something must have moved with the wind since the sun starts to line both of your faces. One of your eyes starts to squint because of the light, and suddenly it hits you.

"So, are we married now? Where's my ring?"

Minho didn't expect that, and there were a number of reasons why you were sure of it; one, because he starts to blabber and two, because his ears turned red.

"Well, I uh, I uh, don't- I said someday... Not this exact moment! Uhm...Hold on." It's a good thing Minho was a boy scout when he was young, although he would have never thought his skills would come in handy in a situation like this.

You're confused about what he was planning, but you let him do his thing. He squats down next to a group of small, white flowers and plucks them out from the ground in such a manner that their stems remain very long. Then, he picks a strand of grass and takes your hand in his to measure your finger with it. After he has your measurements, he begins to wrap the flower stems around the grass strand with such craftsmanship, almost as if it hasn't been 15 years since he last made a ring out of flowers.

When he is done, he gingerly slides it up your ring finger and he's proud like a child. The ring is cute, tiny and light, and it tickles your finger softly. It's not gold or diamonds, but it is a promise, and it is so much more natural than forged metals and stolen minerals. So much more Minho.

"There you go." He beams proudly. Truth be told, he is flabbergasted he managed to make the ring actually hold without falling apart. "Now we share all of our assets and you are legally obligated to feed my cats when I'm not at home and clean out their litters." He speaks matter of factly, and you slap him on the chest.

"You only want me so I can do your chores! Tsk, I think our marriage is already falling apart." You joke, pretending to turn around and pout. Minho finds you hilarious, especially as he envelops you from the back and holds you in a pretend chokehold.

"The only thing falling apart is gonna be my wallet when I buy you that ring." You don't know if it's the light of the sun or you're blushing, but your face grows hot. Getting married was, of course, the natural order of progressing things in a relationship. But a part of you has always wondered if you are someone to deem worthy of marriage; if that's something that would ever happen to you. Now that such reality was approaching, it did really feel like magic.

Minho released you from the tight hold and decided to walk with your hand in his instead. He was looking at your finger, at the hand-made flower ring, and his quiet, peaceful smile came back to his face.

"I promise I'll get you a real ring soon. You'll have it on your finger by the time we come here again." He speaks softly, in a murmur, but you hear him. You stay quiet, but he sees you nod. You acknowledge his promise, and a completely harmless anxiety mixes in with the excitement that comes with thinking of that day.

"Does that mean we're not gonna have a vacation here for the next 5 years?" Minho rolls his eyes at your question, and the sappiness finally seems to come to an end; you're back to your lighthearted vacation.

-------------------------------

"Or perhaps I'll make you live in the wild with me for the next five years. If we never leave we can't come back." He wiggles his eyebrows at you, gives you his trademark serial killer look, and there was never a moment when you've loved him more. Never a moment when you've loved him more naturally.

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sluttywoozi · 10 months

Text

May Flowers | Like A Cowboy Final Chapter

Like A Cowboy | Cowboy Like Me | Give You My Wild

Pregnancy is hard, but April showers bring May flowers, right?

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~7.2k (~2.8k plot, ~4.4k smut)

Warnings: pregnancy, pregnant sex, pregnancy kink, fingering, masturbation, (healthy) possessiveness, oral f. rec., piv sex, multiple orgasms, crying during sex, creampie, aftercare

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, about 6 and a half months pregnant, gets carried/lifted by Mingyu (he’s a strong ass cowboy with big bulging muscles)

“Honey, can I get you anything before I join you?” Mingyu asks softly from the doorway, fondly observing the way your book rests on your swollen belly.

You look over, shaking your head with a sweet smile before returning your attention to your book. You’ve been reading like crazy since your stomach started growing, consuming every word you can find on childbearing and childrearing. He tries to read the books when you finish them, but with you no longer able to help as much outside or inside, he doesn’t have a lot of spare time. He doesn’t mind though, would run the whole ranch by himself if it meant you got to rest like you deserve, and it’s more than enough that you still take care of the cooking and linens.

He doesn’t think you know how grateful he is to have a steaming meal on the table every time he comes in after a long day of labor in the thawing spring air. He makes the effort to tell you, but he’s sure there’s another way. Maybe he could show you, but you only want gifts for the baby right now so anything he gets you wouldn’t be for you. He could hire a farmhand from sun up to sun down and use the day to pamper you, but he’s not sure you’d like that either.

You’ve become… sensitive. About your body and about having all of his focus on it.

Mingyu, of course, already thought you were the most beautiful and precious creature to ever walk the earth, and you’ve only become more so since your pregnancy began showing itself. You glow, your whole being radiates light and sweetness, and though you’re a bit quicker to cry than before, you’re also prone to telling him you love and adore him at the drop of his cowboy hat.

He’s changed too, growing much more protective and somehow less clumsy if it means saving you from your new lack of coordination. You’re unused to having the equivalent of a butternut squash attached to your front, and it shows in the tender spots he finds every night. You’re tender about the squash itself too, lamenting each shift that no longer fits and mourning every dress you have to let out, though you try to hide it from him.

He assumes you don’t want him to know that you’re experiencing some negative feelings too, especially after the little gathering he’d thrown you last week. Some of your friends are with child as well and they were all absolutely exuberant, going on about how wonderful it was and how they almost didn’t want it to end. Your smile had turned false then, though he doubts they noticed. He doubts you think he noticed, but Mingyu sees everything when it comes to you because he’s always paying attention.

That’s why he’s also caught onto how physically sensitive you are now, too. You grimace every morning as you secure your bodice, wince whenever he accidentally touches your breasts in the night, catch his hand and guide it to your hip if you notice he’s going for your belly. He’s trying to stop touching you in these places, but it’s difficult when he’s so used to you loving when he touches you anywhere. He misses being close to you, misses making love to you, but he’ll give you space for as long as you need it. Or he’ll do his best to, at least.

It’s something he keeps in mind as he gingerly climbs into bed next to you, shuffling close enough for a kiss before exchanging an, “I love you,” letting his head drop heavily to the pillow, and promptly falling asleep.

Mingyu blinks awake to moonlight barely peeking through the curtains and a hand gently tapping at his chest.

“S’wrong, honey?” He mumbles, his fingers tangling with your own as his head lolls over so he can squint at you in the darkness. From what little of you he can see, you’re nervous. That wakes him up, makes him shift onto an elbow and lean over you, his hand releasing yours so he can cup your cheek and bring your eyes to his. Is it something with the baby? Is something going-

“Nothing’s wrong! I- I think I… I want you, Mingyu.”

That’s the last thing he expects you to say, and the reaction it causes in him would bring him to his knees if he were standing. Heat flashes down the back of his neck, all the want in his body rushing into his cock as it hardens in his underclothes, his eyes going half lidded and his mouth dropping open as he leans in to press his lips to yours.

“Did you have a dream?” He questions, kissing your cheek and forehead before continuing, “Can I touch you? Kiss you?”

“I never fell asleep,” you groan, rubbing your legs together beneath the sheets, “And yes, Gyu, please.”

He’s gentle with you, turning you onto your side and bringing a pillow to rest under your belly. You lift your head so his arm can reach around and cradle you to him, leaning your body against his and draping your thigh over his leg to open you up. He doesn’t want you to have to support yourself at all, wants to give you whatever you need, whatever you want. Which, apparently, is him, so he won’t make you wait.

His free hand slides between your thighs, his arm brushing against your belly and his cock jumping against your back as his fingers glide over your folds. You’re so wet he gasps into your neck, two of his fingers dipping inside and finding you hot and slick, “Did you touch yourself?”

“I tried, but it wasn’t enough. I didn’t want to wake you, though, you work so hard and you need to sleep,” you whine, bucking into his touch.

“Sweetheart, you can tell me that you need me anytime and anywhere and I’ll give myself to you,” Mingyu promises, pressing his teeth into your shoulder and letting his fingers sink deeper, spread apart, fuck up and in. You’re so responsive, your body writhing in his hold and your thighs shaking against his as you near the edge. It seems your heightened sensitivity is working in his favor now, so he twists his thumb over to rub your swollen clit and digs his fingers in just a little harder.

At this angle, he can tap his fingertips right into that patch inside you that makes you gush, and he can feel you tighten around him, feel you get closer and closer to the edge with each grind against that spot. He wishes he could taste you, feel you on his tongue, but that might be a bit much for you tonight so he’ll talk to you instead.

“So perfect for me, my pretty wife all round and full with my baby, fuck,” He gasps into your hair, his cock throbbing and leaking where it’s pressed into your back.

His words must be enough to get you there because suddenly, your back is arching and your whines are echoing throughout the room as your slick floods his hand. It almost breaks him, feeling your walls hug his fingers and knowing how much better they feel around his cock, but he holds himself together long enough to see you through to the other side of your release.

You’re sobbing by the time it’s over, so Mingyu gently withdraws his fingers before cleaning them with his mouth and wrapping you up in his arms. He rocks slowly, humming so you can feel the vibrations in his chest and smiling to himself as he feels you start to come down.

“Did so good for me, honey,” Mingyu murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your head and ignoring the insistent pulse of his dick.

“Thank you, Gyu, love you,” you mumble back, already on the verge of falling asleep in his arms.

“Love you, baby,” Mingyu promises as he shuffles out from under you and to the bathroom, starting up the shower and leaving it on cold before wetting a cloth with warm sink water and carefully cleaning you up.

He’s not sure if a cold shower will actually help considering he’s harder than he has been in months, but it’s worth a shot. There’s no way he’ll be able to sleep like this and he doesn’t expect it to go down on its own, so the shower is his best bet.

Every muscle in his body tenses when the icy water hits his skin, and even after five minutes of shivering under the spout, he’s still rock hard. He grimaces, letting his head drop back to rest against the tiled wall as he gives up, turns the shower to warm, and wraps a hand around his cock. His own touch is never as good as yours, but it’s all he’s known for the last few months and it’ll continue to be all he knows until you’re ready for him again.

Truthfully, he’s over the moon at getting to touch you at all tonight, getting to be so close to you and unravel you like that, and he knows all he needs to do to push himself over the edge is think about you. His hand starts moving of its own volition as he calls to mind the thought of you touching yourself, the delicious squeeze of your walls around his fingers, the breathy sighs and moans you’d let out.

He can’t swallow the punched out groan that leaves him when he remembers taste of you on his fingers, or stop himself from gripping his cock tighter, or slow his hand when it starts to speed. The wet slap of skin on skin fills the shower, and though Mingyu wishes it was you and him making those sounds together, he got to touch you tonight and that’s more than enough for him.

It’s more than enough that you’re carrying his child, letting them grow in you and with you, taking care of them and nurturing them with your body until they’re ready to be loved in person. The idea shouldn’t send heat zipping down his spine, but it does and his hips follow, thrusting his cock into the sleeve he’s made with his hand as a coil starts to wind in his stomach.

It’s wild to him that just a little bit ago, you were doing this, touching yourself and chasing that release, and when you couldn’t find it on your own, you knew you could wake him up. You still felt guilty, he knows, but he’s ecstatic that you reached out to him, both physically and metaphorically. He’s missed you these months even as he slept next to you every night, and to be so close to you was fulfilling beyond measure.

It’s what will push him over the edge, what will make that coil in his belly snap, and he can feel his heart start to race as he gets closer and closer. He pictures you, sleeping peacefully on your side in your nightgown, pressing your hips back into his, night after night. You, bent over the railing of your front porch all those moons ago. You, with one injured hand above your head and the other holding yourself open for him. You, under him and on top of him and all over him, just you you you.

You’re all Mingyu needs, all he wants and all he will ever want, and as he thinks about putting this baby in you, pumping you full and keeping you full until it took, until there was evidence beyond rings and a vow that you’re his and he’s yours, it breaks him. His cock pulses in his hand as it hardens further and starts to spit cum, his desperate grip damn near cutting off the circulation at the head. His head thunks against the tile and he whines your name, feeling the wave overcome him and letting himself drown in it.

Trembling under the warm water, he attempts to catch his breath, his eyes still clenched shut and his hand still fisting his cock. He needs to sleep soon if he wants to get any work done on the ranch tomorrow, but he just can’t find the strength to move yet. The water is what spurs him, going from warm to cold to freezing in what feels like no time before he turns off the shower and dries off the excess moisture.

His pants from before will need a wash, his prespend having soaked through the fabric, so he scurries naked to the dresser in the chilly night air and opens the drawer as quietly as he can. He pulls out the first underclothes his fingers touch, climbing into them before sliding into bed next to you. You’re still breathing softly, one arm folded beneath your head and the other cradling your swollen belly, and Mingyu feels all the love in his body rush into his heart as he watches you sleep peacefully.

“I love you,” he whispers softly, so quietly that it’s nearly lost in the creaking of the house and the wind blowing through the trees. His hand covers your own before he bends at the waist to press a kiss to your stomach, “And I love you.”

Leaning back into the rocking chair, you heave a sigh and let your eyes fall closed. Your fingertips are starting to ache, as is your back, but you’ve got a whole stack of linens to repair and there’s still daylight left, so onward you’ll go.

The baby has been quite active today, aiming little kicks right into your kidneys and line dancing all over your bladder, but you’re glad for it. The movement of the baby means they’re growing like they’re supposed to, and you’ll always take the aches and touch-sensitivity and endless trips to the bathroom over the alternative.

This journey has been rife with worries, many of which you neglected to share with your husband, and reminding yourself that your family is about to grow is what gets you through the day.

That, and Mingyu.

He’s outside right now, tending to the flower garden he started for you after you felt the quickening. It’s full of your favorites, and some medicinal herbs as well. Marigolds for their healing properties, peppermint and ginger for your morning sickness, stinging nettles for your nutrition, and chamomile for your sleepless nights.

He spent hours researching, and even conferred with the town midwife to determine what would be best to plant for you.

Nearly every time you look at it, you’re moved to tears thinking about just how much he loves you. This seems to be one of those times, and you press your palms to your eyes as if you could stem the flow of saltwater. The tears spill over onto your cheeks anyway, your breath hitching on a sob that you couldn’t swallow for the life of you.

These crying spells started around the same time your belly made itself known, and they’re one of the many aspects you won’t miss when this baby finally comes. Along with the fact that you can barely stand to let anyone touch you anymore, not your mother, not your father, not even your husband. You hate to see his face fall every time he reaches for you, but you’re just so tender all over, which is part of why you cry so often.

Your tears dry up soon enough, but not so fast Mingyu doesn’t see. When you pull your hands from your eyes, you catch sight of him. He’s standing with his hands on his hips, biting that plush bottom lip and making you itch to tug it out from between his teeth. Instead, you swipe the sheen from your cheeks and give him a shaky smile through the window.

He sends back a small, fond grin and laughs to himself, disappearing from view as he returns to his weeding. You let the smile drop and arch your back, rubbing at a persistent ache in the lower curve of your spine. You’ll have to have Mingyu try to work it out for you before bed or you won’t be able to sleep at all tonight.

You still can’t believe what you did last night, waking him up and begging him to touch you like that. You haven’t been in the mood for months, and suddenly you needed him so bad you just couldn’t take it anymore. It came over you like a cresting wave, starting in your mind and rolling down to your core.

You did your best to relieve the ache on your own, but you couldn’t reach far enough to get your fingers inside with your belly in the way and eventually, your back started to hurt too much with all the straining. You knew you’d never get to bed if you still felt like that, so you did the only other thing you could think to do.

You woke up your husband.

And, goodness, did he relieve that ache.

The problem is that it wasn’t enough. Now that you’ve felt his touch again, you want more, you want everything.

But you can wait until he finishes his work outside and eats the dinner you’ll make for the two of you. There’s no way you’ll interrupt him just so you can ask him to satisfy your desires, even though he told you to do exactly that just last night.

You were wrong. You were so very wrong.

As soon as you started thinking about Mingyu touching you again, a spark lit up in your center and now you feel all warm and, dare you say, wet.

You can’t focus on your mending, your fingers stinging with pin pricks, and you also can’t take your eyes off your husband.

He took his outer layer off, leaving him in just a white tank and his denim trousers, and every time he lifts his shirt up to wipe his sweat, you see a flash of his toned, glistening abdomen.

He’s doing it on purpose. You know because he caught you looking and smirked, and you haven’t bothered to look away since. You’re not sure what your expression is telling him but you know your eyes are full of a heat that only he can cool.

When he whips the tank over his head and uses it to mop at the sweat on his chest, you decide you’ve had enough.

You shoot up (as fast as you’re able) from your rocking chair and march to the front door, throwing it open and standing on the edge of the stairs with your hands on your hips.

You forgot to put on your shoes so you can’t actually go haul Mingyu inside like you want to, but he must have heard the door open. He appears from around the corner of the house, his muscles shimmering in the waning sunlight and flexing with every step.

“Hey, baby,” He calls, grinning with happiness like he doesn’t know exactly what he’s done. “I was wondering when you’d break.”

He stands shoulder-level with the railing of your front porch and folds his arms on the wood before resting his chin on the cushion they create. The way he’s looking up at you through his eyelashes has your heart fluttering, and when he reaches a hand out to tug you closer, you give him yours and move on instinct.

“I knew you were teasing me,” You shake your head, squeezing his hand and moving your shared grasp to your belly before flattening his palm over it. You haven’t been able to let him touch you much over the past couple months, finding your skin too sensitive for even your clothes, but you want him to feel what you feel.

His whole face lights up in a beam bright enough to replace the sun when the little kick thumps right under his hand. Before you know it, his eyes are filling with tears and he’s taking your free hand to bring it to his face. You cup his cheek, brushing the tears away with a gentle thumb and feeling your own eyes welling up.

You try to kiss him but you can’t bend over enough to reach, making you pout and let out a huff.

“Back up a little, honey,” Mingyu instructs before disentangling his hands from yours and letting you step away. He plants his hands on the railing and gets a foot on the foundation of your house, hauling himself over the fence with more grace than you expected.

“The stairs are right there,” You point out with a laugh, stepping back as he crowds you into the wall. His hands brace next to your head and he leans into your space, his lips inches from yours as he whispers, “Is it a crime to show off for my wife?”

“Never,” You breathe, tilting your chin to press your mouth to his. He kisses you deeply, sighing like he’s just tasted the finest whiskey and moving as close to you as your belly allows.

When his hands leave the wall and find your body, they’re tender, soft on you, like he knows just how sensitive you are. And of course he does, because he’s your husband and he knows everything about you.

Down to the fact that when he angles your head so he can kiss you like he wants, it makes your knees weak. His hands move to your hips and squeeze just a bit harder, just enough to give you some more stability as he kisses you until you’re dizzy.

“Can we go,” You gasp in between kisses, “Inside the house?”

“Can I carry you?” He responds, waiting for your nod to sweep you up into his arms bridal style. He’s so strong, holding you steady as he walks to the front door you’d left open. He toes off his boots before he walks inside, knowing you’ll scold him if he tracks dirt on your clean floors.

Crossing over the threshold with him like this brings up memories of your wedding day, of when he surprised you with the house he’d built with his own two hands for you to share. It’s a home now, and in just a few months, there will be a new member of your family to make it even warmer. The thought nearly makes you tear up again as Mingyu lumbers up the stairs to your bedroom.

You swallow down the emotions rising within you, refusing to cry yet again, and smile up at Mingyu as he carefully places you on the bed.

“How do you think we should do this?” He inquires, his eyes on your bump and his hands on his hips. You go over the positions you’ve used in the past, but most of them won’t accommodate your stomach.

“Maybe from behind?” You suggest, beginning to unbutton your dress before his hands take over for yours. You arch a brow, watching as he meticulously pushes the buttons out of their openings and remembering all the repairing you had to do while he was trying to put this baby in you.

“I wanna be able to look at you,” Mingyu counters, his eyes caught on the movement of your breasts as you work the dress off. You’re left in just your shift and bodice, and the look in his eyes sends your confidence rocketing up.

“How about,” He starts talking only to stop and take hold of the backs of your knees, “If I pull you to the edge of the bed and stay standing? We can put some pillows under your hips to prop you up.”

Picturing it in your head, you work out the logistics and find his plan to be solid. The bed isn’t too low to the ground, but you still won’t be at the height of his hips so the cushioning is a good idea.

You nod with finality, reaching for the pillows above your head and pulling them down to hand them to Mingyu. He slides one arm under your back and lifts you enough to slide one, then the other pillow beneath your hips, leaving you at the perfect height.

You could almost laugh at all the planning required for making love in this state, but the heat is flooding back into you as you watch Mingyu slowly undo his belt.

He’s staring at you with half-lidded eyes, his gaze roving over every inch of your body, clothed and unclothed. His cock strains at the denim of his jeans, the dark blue growing darker where the head must be.

You can’t even see him but you want him in you, making you wonder if you’re still stretched from last night. You don’t want him to get you ready, you just want him to fill you up again and again and again, just like he did all those months ago.

You open your mouth to tell him but gasp instead as he shoves his trousers and underclothes down, revealing his hard, swollen cock. It’s leaking at the tip, flushed and so so pretty, and you almost wish you were laying the other way so you could have him in your mouth.

You don’t think you can wait though, fighting to tear off your bodice and pull your shift up. It’s difficult with the pillows beneath your hips and it occurs to you that you should have gotten undressed before getting comfortable, but that’s rectified easily enough with Mingyu’s help.

He lifts you as you tug the fabric up, his eyes following the hem and his breath catching when your belly is revealed. You raise your arms when he takes over, pulling the fabric over your head and tossing it so it lands on the dresser instead of the floor.

There’s an expression of desirous awe on his face, his eyes wide and warm and full of something you don’t recognize. His hands hover over your skin, unsure of whether or not he can touch you, and when you nod your consent, he places them on your hips and opens his mouth to speak.

“Seeing you like this, knowing it’s our baby growing in there, knowing you’ve got a piece of me inside you all the time… It does things to me.”

You haven’t thought about it that way before, and you feel your core squeeze at the idea of always having a little part of Mingyu with you.

He grins down at you, a feral, possessive glint in his eye, as he watches you process his words. His hands sweep over your body and for once, you don’t feel the need to guide them away. Instead, you want them all over you, want him all over you.

It’s like your sensitivity has turned in his favor, and you feel goosebumps rising on your skin in his wake. You fight back a shiver when he carefully trails his hands over your tender breasts, his eyes observant and his bottom lip bitten between his teeth. He brushes his thumbs over your nipples, just the barest touch, but it still has you arching your back and swallowing down a whine.

“Ohhh, this will be fun,” Mingyu smirks before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your belly, “But I’ll be gentle with you, sweetheart, don’t worry.”

“I know you will be,” You breathe as you reach down and sink a hand into his hair, attempting to lift your hips for him so he can pull off your underclothes. “Let me,” He says as he pulls your hips up with one hand and tugs down your drawers with the other. They land on top of your shift and his hands hover over your skin, his eyes meandering along your bare form as he tries to decide where to touch first.

You’re growing impatient, having been teased enough before he even brought you inside, but you know he’s missed you. You’ve missed him too, wished almost every night that you didn’t feel the way you did and that you could just be with him, and it seems your wish has come true.

So, you can wait.

You can wait as his touch skims over your belly and back up to your breasts, as his eyes become cloudy and dark when he sees for himself just how much they’ve grown. As he lightly twists and pulls at your nipples, as he curls himself over you to suck one into his mouth. As he brings you up higher and higher until you think you might fall over the edge, just from this.

When he trails his kisses down your stomach and starts to kneel, you know you can’t wait anymore. “Gyu, please. I need you,” You implore him, your thighs tensing as you feel arousal starting to seep out of you.

“Can I taste you first? I wanted to last night but I didn’t want to push you,” He breathes, his fingers tapping at your hips and his eyes big and round.

You really want him to fill you up but his mouth would feel nice too, and you suppose you should let him get you ready at least a little knowing how delicate you are right now. You also just might happen to love giving him what he wants. As soon as you sigh, “Yes, honey,” he hauls your thighs over his shoulders and dives in, making you gasp and claw at the bedcovers.

His tongue glides through your folds and you can feel the pained groan he lets out, feel the vibrations move through your center. He worships you, sucking your clit, licking your folds, pushing his tongue into your entrance to get a taste at the source. It feels so much better than you remember, so much warmer and wetter, and when he shakes his head to bury his tongue deeper and coincidentally rubs your clit with his nose, it makes your hips jump.

He brings them back down with gentle hands and you untangle yours from the sheets to cover them with your own, squeezing at his knuckles and wrapping your fingers over his. You can’t see him over your bump but you can hear him, hear every whimper of pleasure and groan of want, hear every noise his tongue makes as it slides in and out of you. His nose keeps dragging over your bundle of nerves and every single pass pushes you closer to the edge, sounds of your own escaping your mouth, unfettered and unfiltered.

You’re about to tell him you’re getting close but he suddenly presses the tip of his nose hard into your clit and shoves his tongue as far inside you as it can go, and that’s all you need.

That’s all you need to cum, to cry, to keen, your arousal flooding onto his tongue and your thighs snapping closed over his ears. He moans into you throughout your whole release, drinking down your wetness with an open mouth and prying your legs away from his head when he finally needs to breathe.

Tears stream down the sides of your face, your eyelashes fluttering as you blink away the stars swimming in your vision, and when he takes one final lick from your entrance to your crest, you can’t help but shudder. He cautiously slides your legs from his shoulders one after the other, and rises to his feet on shaky knees.

“Alright, baby?” He rests one knee on the edge of the bed and leans over your bump to press his you-soaked lips to yours. You make an affirmative noise against his mouth, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek when he tries to pull away, not wanting the kiss to end just yet. He hums and kisses you deeper, seeming to understand that you need this contact right now.

You know Mingyu won’t rush you, he never does, no matter how desperate his need is. Which is why you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him into you, gasping when you feel his hot, leaking cock come into contact with your core.

“I want you inside me,” You break away to exhale, watching his jaw clench and his eyes grow darker.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, darlin’, you know that,” He dips back down for one more kiss before standing upright and guiding his cock to your entrance. The tip notches in easily, your arousal and earlier release opening you up for him, and he grasps the backs of your knees with big, calloused hands.

“I can hold your legs, baby. I don’t want you to strain yourself,” He offers, his voice deep with want. He hooks his arms under your knees after you untangle them from his waist with a thankful hum before slowly pushing into you. The stretch is delicious, stealing your voice and all the air in your lungs as he carefully spreads you open.

You’re glad he suggested this way because you want to look at him too, want to watch his face as he feels you for the first time in months. He almost seems like he’s in pain, his mouth dropped open and his eyes clenched shut. He’s making weak, punched-out noises as he slides inside you, his fingers gripping tighter with every inch.

When he bottoms out in you, it’s like you can’t breathe. He’s so thick and long, and he’s buried so deep, it makes you want to cry. You look a bit closer and find, to your surprise, that Mingyu is crying. There are tears slipping out of the corners of his still-closed eyes, and he opens them to reveal a desperation you don’t expect.

“I’m sorry, baby, fuck, ’m sorry,” He forces out, his hips stuttering against yours.

“What are you so-,”

“I can’t hold it, I’m gonna-.”

His head drops back and heady moans escape his parted lips, his abdomen tensing every time he ruts into you. His cock jerks against the clutches of your walls as a warmth pools deep inside, making you gasp and arch your back. He’s never reached release so soon, but you can’t blame him after he’s been without you, and honestly, it makes you feel ridiculously wanted.

When his hips stop moving and his cock stops leaking, you expect him to pull out and give you his fingers or tongue, but he stays rooted inside you, his cock still hard and his eyes determined. He starts fucking you slowly, pushing his spend deeper and deeper even though he must be sensitive by now.

“Mingyu, you don’t have to, I already-”

“Do you still want me inside you?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then I’m staying,” He promises, falling into a gentle rhythm, his movements eased by your wetness and the sticky cum he’d filled you with.

“Enough with the interrupting,” You whine, raising your hips to meet his and trying to fuck him back as much as your heavy belly will allow. His cock twitches as he laughs sheepishly, giving your legs a squeeze with his hands and breathing, “I’m sorry, honey. I won’t do it again.”

“You’d better not,” You threaten half-heartedly, gradually losing yourself to the pleasure of his movements. Every time he bottoms out, your walls flutter and clench around him, attempting to hold him inside though you know he’s stronger than you. When he draws his hips back, yours follow, sparking a familiar push and pull, give and take, that you’ve perfected together in the years since you wed.

Your head tilts back when the tip of his cock strokes the one spot inside you that always makes you gush, your moans rising in volume and your legs twitching in his hold. He notices this, of course, and aims every thrust at that spot, nearly panting with exertion as he fucks in and out of you. You feel the coil in your center winding tighter and tighter, your walls sucking his cock in deep and hugging him like you never want him to leave.

“Will you touch yourself for me?” Mingyu asks, his voice thready with pleasure. “I’m getting close again, it’s so- Ahhh, so sensitive and your cunt is so perfect.”

You acquiesce immediately, one hand gripping at the sheets and the other sliding down your body and around your bump to find the throbbing little bundle of nerves nestled in your folds. One circle has you getting wetter, another has you clenching down, and a third has you falling over the edge.

You must drag Mingyu along with you, his cock growing impossibly harder and starting to shoot cum inside you. The release is strong, like a tidal wave overcoming you and pulling you under. It blurs your vision, fills your ears with a roaring sound, makes you shiver and squeeze uncontrollably around him as he fills you up for a second time.

With your arousal and his spend, you’re overfull, making a combination of both seep out around his slowly softening cock. You open your eyes to find his still shut, his face slack and his knees visibly shaking.

“Gyu? Honey?” You speak softly, so as not to startle him. His eyes blink open, full of tears again, and you feel your face break into the fondest smile of all time. You want to pull him close, hold him to you, comfort him, but he’s still got you by the legs and you’re not sure he’s ready to move yet.

“Missed you so much,” He nearly whimpers as he pulls out, a veritable flood following in his wake. “Love you so much.”

“Baby, I love you,” you coo, wiggling in his hold until he releases your knees and lets you clumsily scoot back on the bed, the pillows falling to the floor in the process. You hold your arms out to him, hugging him tight when he climbs onto the bed and curls around you, his legs tangling with yours and his arm cradling your belly.

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long,” You already felt guilty for not being able to let him touch you like you used to, but seeing him moved to tears by how much he missed you has you reeling.

“Don’t apologize, darlin’, it’s not your fault. You’re doing important work, growing our baby, and I know there are changes that come with that,” He assures you, his hand gently stroking your skin and his eyes raising to yours to make sure you’re alright with his touch.

You smile, tears rising in your own eyes, and cover your hand with his. There are changes that come with this journey, good ones and bad ones, and you wouldn’t trade them for the world. Not when you know that it’ll all be worth it in the end, when you finally get to hold the baby you’ve been nurturing and protecting with your own body. When you finally get to hold the baby you and Mingyu made together, the one that will be the perfect blend of you and him.

You don’t know what they’ll look like, sound like, be like, but you love them already, and you know Mingyu does too.

You nudge him before he can fall asleep, whispering a soft, “Let’s get cleaned up, hm?”

He nods drowsily and peels himself off of you and the bed, reaching for the ceiling to stretch his back and eliciting a sigh from you as you watch his muscles tense. Holding his hands out to you, he waits for you to entwine your fingers with his before carefully pulling you up into a sitting position and helping you shuffle off the bed.

You follow him into the bathroom and stand shivering on the tile as he starts the shower and bundles you up in his arms from behind. You melt into him when he scoops your belly up and holds it for you, easing the constant strain on your back. He sways you lightly, enough so that you start to drift off where you stand.

When steam starts coming from the shower, Mingyu holds a hand under the stream to test the temperature and, finding it just cool enough for him and just hot enough for you, helps you climb in.

He was the one half asleep before but it seems that making love has taken all the energy from you, leaving you to lean against him as he washes you with gentle hands.

“Do you want to take a nap in the guest room before we make dinner?” He asks into your neck, just loud enough for you to hear over the rush of water. You nod, your head lolling forward and back before you just tip back and let yourself rest fully on him. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your hair before shutting the water off and helping you out of the shower.

He takes a fresh towel from the stack in the cabinet and lovingly dries you off, dabbing at your belly and breasts instead of rubbing because he knows the texture of the towel is too much against your skin.

“Want me to carry you?” He swipes at his own body much more roughly before throwing the towel into the hamper.

You hold your arms out and he laughs again, whispering, “You know I can’t carry you like that, baby.” Pouting, you hold onto his neck as he lifts you sideways into his arms and walks you to the guest room, both of you naked as the day you were born.

He lays you down, crawling into bed next to you and murmuring, “Can I keep touching you?”

You turn your head, pressing a kiss to his lips before whispering back, “Yes, Gyu, please keep touching me.”

He grins a sleepy little grin, mumbling an, “I love you, baby,” to you before leaning down to peck the top of your belly and speaking into your skin, “And I love you, baby.”

You won’t cry again, you won’t cry again, you won’t cry again.

“I love you, Mingyu,” You whisper back, tilting your chin down and covering his hand on your belly to breathe, “And I love you, baby.”

There’s a little kick under his hand, you can feel it from the inside and he can feel it from the outside, and you exchange sweet smiles before finally falling into blissful slumber.

AN: and with that, Like a Cowboy is finished!! This will be the final part as i'm not interested in writing kid fics, so i hope it was a good way to close out this couple's story.

This is the one year anniversary of my posting Like A Cowboy, and I can't believe how much myself and this blog have grown since. I've made amazing friends, gotten closer to my best friend, and gotten to know you all. I've spent so many hours writing so many words (over 200k by now) and i can't wait to spend many more hours writing many more words

thank you to all of my followers, old and new, for supporting me and loving my work

thank you to @petrichor-mingi for beta reading this and many other works for me and thank you to @svthub for supporting me and helping me grow!

thank you to @absentcaryatid for leaving my first ever review and convincing me that my writing is worth reading

thank you to @bbychocolat for being my cheerleader and convincing me my work has value 💕

and thank you to @sluttywonwoo for getting me into seventeen and mingyu in the first place, and for getting me to write for fun at all 💖

i love you guys 💖

#seventeen smut #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #mingyu x female reader #mingyu x oc #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x you #mingyu x reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #seventeen fic #seventeen series #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines

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lvandrskies · 4 months

Text

— from eden

synopsis: eve found a snake in her garden, and then fell in love with the fruit it offered.

tags: god au, past lives, soul bonds, angst, smut

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, oral (fem. receiving), corruption kink if u squint, character death

word count: 18.3k

m.list

a/n: if you've read this before, it's because i deleted my old account and then decided to come back. as a disclaimer, religion is pretty broad in this fic. "god" in this fic is not god from the christian/catholic religion. also !! thank u @yeonjunszn for betaing this last year, love u pookie!! <33 [photo creds]. MINORS DNI

❝all the fear and the fire of the end of the world, happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl.❞

When God created the universe, he first created light. He separated the light from darkness and called them “Day” and “Night”. Then He made the sky, separating the water with a dome to keep it in two separate places. Then he made the sun and the stars, weaving his essence to light up his beautiful creation to help guide those who will soon live on it. Then He created animals, for both the sky and the water. He blessed them and told them to live in the sea and the sky, to fill the ocean and the earth with bustling cycles of life.

On the last day, he created humans. He created man and woman, and told them to have children so they may produce their own descendants to walk over earth and bring everything into their control. The first two humans he created were Adam and Eve.

He provided them with an abundance of fruits and grains for them to eat in a beautiful garden he called Eden.

In the garden of Eden, they were to fall in love and create many children. Adam was the first one to fall in love with Eve, and she pliantly went along with it.

But, something in Eve felt… empty. Like Adam was not the one she was to be with. Adam was not the one she was to share this beautiful, vast, garden with. But, she wasn’t sure who she was to share this with. Eve knew she couldn’t delve much more into the unsettling pit in her stomach at the thought of her fate already sealed by Adam’s side, as it was not smart to defy God.

“God knows best,” she would tell herself as she lay with Adam in the garden of Eden.

________________

I’m dying.

If the blood flowing around him wasn’t enough of a tell, or the way his sight blurs in and out. The heavy rain pelting against his dying body is a desperate, yet pathetic, attempt of the universe trying to save him and wash the red sticky liquid away. His breathing is shallow, hitched. He feels the urge to cry, to mourn the life he’s no longer going to be able to have. He was so close to reaching his goals too, and now they’re all washed up and ruined, like trash washing back up on the shores of beaches he visits. Or, in just a short while it’ll be visited.

“I’m sorry, m—” Chan chokes. “Mom. I did everything I could.”

Just as he is about to slip into eternal sleep, a bright light opens up in the sky. It’s blinding, and warm?

Why is it so warm? Is this heaven?

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on his body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in the road. The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. His entire body relaxes, and he feels himself being pushed further into his body, into his own mind.

Is this really what dying feels like?

—

Chan wakes up in a hospital room.

His body is aching, and his head is filled with an uncomfortable pressure. Breathing hurts, and he’s sure his ribs are broken. The machine that’s keeping track of his vitals beeps rhythmically, and he lets out a, albeit pained, sigh of relief at it.

He looks up at the ceiling, like he was looking up towards the heavens and thanking whatever God was gracious enough to let him keep living.

“Ah! You’re awake!” A voice says, cheerily. A woman in her late thirties is standing in the doorway. Her slick black hair is pulled into a low ponytail, a few strands falling into her face from being up for what Chan presumes to be hours. “I’m your nurse, Eunkyung. I’ll go grab the doctor.” Chan barely has the chance to respond before the nurse leaves, the sound of her shoes squeaking steadily quieting as she hurries down the hallway.

The doctor follows her into the room a few minutes later, inspecting his eyes and the nasty bruising around his ribcage. “Do you remember your name?”

“Bang Chan,” he answers. “Do you know how I got here?”

“You walked yourself here, do you not remember?” The doctor asks, bewilderment encasing his wrinkled face. “You were a sight to see. I don’t know what kind of God has your back but, you should have died last night. It’s quite literally a miracle.”

Chan’s head pounds at the doctor’s words, and he flinches. He pinches the bridge of his nose as an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“We’ll keep you here for another day or two to see how you’re feeling. Do you have any family we can call?”

“Oh, uh,” Chan looks down at his scraped hands, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “No, I don’t. My emergency contact should be Seo Changbin, though.”

Changbin does make it up to the hospital that same night, with Han Jisung bounding in right behind him. Changbin and Jisung aren’t one to shy away from theatrics, so when they finally enter the room, the younger of the two is loudly shouting in distress as he practically launches himself onto the bed to lay with Chan.

“Oh, my precious hyung! I can’t believe you almost died!” He wails out, wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders and obnoxiously crying out, the sound of his faux wails echoing into the room and piercing Chan’s eardrums and racking his brain even more.

“Ah, Sung. I love you, but please don’t yell. My head feels like it’s splitting.” He whines out, pinching the bridge of his nose once again.

“Yeah, the doctor said you have a pretty nasty concussion,” Changbin says. Chan nods, trying his best to move his shoulders to shake the younger boy off, but to no avail. Han Jisung is glued to his side, no matter how much pain it’s bringing to his ribs, but he eventually decides to give up and relaxes in the younger’s hold. Before he can fully relax, though, boney knuckles are making contact with his bicep, which then makes him groan and lurch up, shooting more pain into his torso. He opens his eyes to see that the worry is wiped clean off Changbin’s features, and instead replaced with a feign look of anger. “You idiot! How could you get yourself hit by a car!” Chan flinches at the rising level in the man’s voice.

“Did we forget that I said my head hurts?” Chan whines. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was crossing the street and then the next thing I know I’m laying in the middle of the road.”

“The doctor said you walked here,” Jisung says. “How did you even manage to do that, hyung?”

“Funny thing is, I don’t even remember doing it.”

—

Chan’s discharged after three days, and given a stern order from Ms. Eunkyung to “take it easy” until his head fully clears. He chuckles to himself, because he knows he’s not exactly going to follow that order.

Not if he wants food on the table.

Speaking of food; his fridge is empty. Save for a stick of butter, a gallon of milk Chan is more than a hundred percent sure is expired, and a singular tomato staring at him pitifully. Even the tomato looks like it’s on its last leg, too. He cringes.

Suddenly, his head starts pounding again. He groans, shutting the fridge door and stumbling to his couch where he throws himself down on it. He lets out a pained whine as the pressure in his head builds, and he’s almost convinced his head is going to explode.

“Am I dying for real this time?” Chan whispers to himself. The pressure feels almost familiar, like how it did when he was dying because soon it’s encasing his entire body again and his eyes slip closed.

—

When Chan awakes again, he feels so far away, like he’s not fully in his body.

He must have taken a harder hit to the head than he thought. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, let alone when he moved to his bed. He thinks maybe he should call Minho over to watch him in case he passes out like that again. Maybe he really is dying this time.

Fuck. This isn’t entirely how he wants to go out. Alone, in his shitty apartment with no one around, barely any food in the fridge and nothing to his name that can be tied to any sort of legacy.

Though, he isn’t surprised he’s dying this way. It’s just his luck.

“Can you stop thinking so loud?”

What the fuck.

That was his voice. But he’s sure he wasn’t talking.

“Oh you mortals and your need to constantly think, think, think!” He feels his palm hit against his temple.

What..

“You’re not dead, kid. Well, not until I leave this vessel,” He says… to himself. He sighs. “I’m a god. Gotta say, you decided to go and get yourself killed at just the perfect time too. I didn’t even have to find you.”

What?!

“Don’t yell! You echo in my head and it’s giving me a headache!” The god scoffs, rubbing at his temples. “I’ll explain it to you in a second I just…” just then, Chan’s stomach growls and the god groans. “I’m fucking starving. When’s the last time you ate? You mortals love treating your bodies like shit.”

I ate… Wait, what time is it?

“It’s the next morning,” the god responds.

The next morning?!

“Yes! Gods, stop yelling!” Cato shrieks, gently knocking his fists on the top of his head in an attempt to quiet the human in their shared consciousness. “You were out for quite a while. I was convinced I completely shoved you out of your body. Just my luck I got someone who holds on, though. Tsk.” Chan watches as the god moves his body to sit up in his bed, swinging his legs over to firmly plant them on the ground. He groans, his body is sore and his joints are aching. Chan groans too, still able to feel everything. Just a little more dulled, but he still feels that incessant knot in his neck he’s never been able to get rid of. “You really let this thing get this rickety? How old are you?”

Twenty five.

“So young,” the god says, an almost mournful tone in his voice as he stretches his (their?) arms above his head. He walks out of the tiny bedroom and into the main apartment. “Cute place,” he chuckles. Chan doesn’t respond, as he watches the god look around the small apartment and take in everything. The god’s curious gaze lands on his stack of records, old vinyls he’s collected since he was about fourteen. “Nice collection.”

Thanks. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on now?

“After I feed myself,” the god quips. “So impatient.” He rolls his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen. Chan doesn’t miss the grimace that paints across his face as the god stares at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink.

Don’t roll my eyes at me.

“I’m piloting this plane right now, so they’re my eyes.” The god snaps.

Can you at least tell me your name?

“Cato,” the god responds as he opens the fridge. Cato lets out an indignant sound at the sight. The same stick of butter, expired milk, and pathetic tomato are glaring back at them once again. “You have no food, you useless man! How are we supposed to eat!”

I haven’t had the time to go grocery shopping.

“How have you not died earlier?” Cato asks, sarcastically.

You’re so not funny.

“It’s still a sensitive topic, I see,” Cato quirks his eyebrows. “Where can we get food?”

There’s a convenience store down the street I usually go to when I’m in between groceries.

“Is this your definition of in between groceries?”

Shut up. I’m a busy guy.

Cato doesn’t respond as he goes and gets himself dressed. He pauses putting on the tee shirt he chose to look in the mirror the human has hanging on his wall. He’s bruised heavily on his torso and his face is scraped up. He and the god both grimace at the damage done to his body. “How did you even manage to do this?”

It’s not like I was playing chicken with the car. It just happened.

“You got hit? And they didn’t take you to the hospital?” Cato presses down on the bruise along his ribcage, which sends a sharp pain to crawl up his spine. Chan whimpers quietly in his head at the touch. Cato whimpers out loud. “That’s why I had to walk us there myself.”

That’s usually what entails in a hit and run. Stop touching it! That hurts. Wait – you were the one that took me to the hospital?

“Yeah. I was in a lot of pain… You can feel that?” Cato asks, eyebrow raised as he looks in the mirror. He presses on it again. Chan lets out a whine.

Yes. It hurts. A lot. My ribs are broken. I don’t know if you remember, but that’s what the doctor said. At the hospital. That you walked me to.

“You lost a lot of blood last night,” Cato says. “I don’t know how I managed to heal your cracked skull but not the bruises and your ribs. But also, this isn’t just your body you stupid mortal. It’s mine, too.” Chan sighs, annoyed.

Maybe they weren’t life threatening?

“No, it’s not that,” Cato murmurs. He places a finger on his chin, eyebrows scrunched as he racks his brain (or, his borrowed brain) for an answer. His stomach growls again. “Oh, man. I can barely think. Food first, everything else later. Oh, and try not to talk to me. I don’t wanna look like a weirdo talking to myself on the street.”

You could just not respond out loud.

Go fuck yourself.

Walking to the convenience store was quick. The cold winds nip at Cato’s nose, painting it a delicate shade of red by the time he enters the store. The heat from inside the building wraps him in a hug, thawing his frozen nose and hands as he steps in almost instantly. The store itself is small, maybe four aisles at best with a line of freezers and fridges lining the back wall. There’s a table with a microwave and two two-seater tables next to it.

Cute.

The old lady that owns it gives me a discount because I help her stock sometimes.

That’s called a job.

I don’t work here.

But you do — whatever I’m not arguing with a stupid mortal.

Didn’t know God can get hangry.

I’m not “God”, I’m a God. Did you not hear me when I made that exact distinction when you woke up earlier?

I see I’ve hit a nerve.

It’s like if I called you an animal when you’re a human. It’s rude.

To whom?

To me! And to the big man himself, but that’s not who we’re concerned about right now.

Sorry, God.

Are you not going to apologize to me?

No.

“Fucking mortals.” Cato whispers under his breath as he walks the aisles.

I heard that.

You were meant to!

“Chan?” a soft, pretty voice speaks out from next to him. Cato whips his head to find a girl. She has a look of uncertainty on her face, but once she realizes it actually is who she thought, a bright smile paints across her angelic face. “Hey! Missed you in class yesterday.”

Cato stands there, shell shocked. His mouth drops open and he’s standing there, gawking at her for a full ten seconds. For some reason, after seeing this girl, a hole feels as if it’s torn open in his chest, where his heart should be. It’s painful. Raw, carnal pain shoots through his chest and it makes his eye twitch.

Answer her, idiot! Don’t make me look stupid!

“Oh!” Cato sounds out, plastering a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, you…”

Y/n. Her name is y/n.

Y/n. Why does that sound so…familiar?

“Hey?” You say, confusion lacing your voice. The confusion is wiped away once your eyes settle on the scrapes along his jawline and eyebrow, concern replacing it instead. An attentive hand reaches up and carasses against his cheek, and both Cato and Chan have stopped breathing. They both can feel how their cheeks heat up at your touch. Cato has half a mind to flinch away, and he does. Your hand retracts immediately, your mouth pulling to the side in regret for accidentally hurting him. In truth, you didn’t touch him. But the heat of your hand so close to his skin felt as if it was burning. Your pretty eyes are filled to the brim with worry, and you ask, “What happened to your face? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just took a pretty nasty fall last night,” Cato responds, sheepishly. He scratches the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. “That's why I wasn’t in class yesterday. Had to go to the hospital and get my head checked out.”

“Oh, that’s awful! I’m glad you’re okay, though!” You respond, your bright smile coming back to your face, though it is tainted with worry still. “Since you missed class, we were partnered together for a project. Maybe we can meet and I can go over the notes and the project with you? Or I can just… send them to you.”

Tell her we can meet tonight.

What happened to ‘taking it easy’?

Chan only laughs in response.

“I’m down to meet you tonight, if that’s okay.” Cato smiles down at you.

“Yeah, for sure!” You chirp. “I’ll see you at your studio tonight, then? I get off work at seven!”

Studio?

Y/n and I major in music production.

“Cool, I’ll see you there.” Cato responds. You give him a wave goodbye, making your way up to the cashier to check out your things. Cato was so in shock he didn’t even notice you were carrying anything.

His stomach growls. He groans quietly.

For someone who had such a sense of urgency over eating, you sure are taking a long time to get something to eat.

Will you shut the fuck up?

________________

❝i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door.❞

As Eve bore child after child for Adam, for the earth, that pit she so desperately tried to bury in her stomach grew bigger. More insistent. She watches as more and more of her children experience many things she didn’t get to; exploring, meeting, falling in love with who they choose and so on and so forth.

As much as she hates to say it, let alone even let it into her heart, she resents her children. She resents Adam. She resents the life that the strings of fate have weaved for her, as she watches her children experience the freewill that God gifted them. Yet she and Adam are forced to simply be their means to an end, to push their future generations along so the human race may flourish.

As she sits in the garden, weaving a crown of flowers and singing a song she does not think has been orchestrated yet, the stream she sits in front of singing quietly with her, a snake slithers up to her. It’s beautiful brown scales and equally as beautiful brown, slitted eyes glint etherally in the early morning sun. She extends a gentle hand towards it, its forked tongue stretching out to slide across her fingers curiously. She giggles at the ticklish sensation, watching with her own curiosity as he climbs up her forearm and upwards so its head rests gently against her naked shoulder.

She goes back to weaving the stems, the soft melody she hums lulling the snake to sleep against her shoulder.

________________

So, I’m… your vessel?

“Correct,” Cato responds, watching the electric kettle impatiently. Cato had finally decided on food after you left, a bowl of ramen and a couple seaweed snack packages he managed to find in Chan’s desolate cabinet. Seriously, why doesn’t this guy have any sense of care for himself? “Every God and angel has a vessel on earth in case we need to come down.”

Can you just not come down in the way you look?

“No. Our heavenly form will drive an ordinary person insane,” the god lets out a small noise of glee once the kettle settles, indicating it’s finally done heating the water. Humans, as stupid as they can be sometimes (he’s looking at Chan, specifically), they sure have made quite a few amazing inventions. Just like this kettle. He’s absolutely enamored with it. “We originally weren’t supposed to have access to earth. We were just supposed to observe from the heavens.”

But?

“But, there’s just some things the Big Man dangles in front of you and you take the bait,” Cato pours the water in the bowl of ramen, watching as the spices he added immediately dissolve in the scolding liquid. He chuckles in amusement to himself as he recloses the paper lid, laying a pair of chopsticks over it to keep it closed. “Hey, how long should this sit for?”

Like two or three minutes. What do you mean by bait?

“A lot of god’s fell in love with mortals on earth,” Cato answers. “You ever read any Greek mythology stories? Apollo and Hyacinthus. Eros and Psyche. So on and so forth.”

I mean, yeah, but, I didn’t think they were real or anything.

“Oh, they’re definitely real,” the god chuckles. “Apollo and I are friends, actually.”

No way! So, like, is every God from every religion real, then?

“Yeah.” Cato shrugs. He takes the chopsticks off and rips the paper cover off of the bowl, excitedly using the chopsticks to stir the broth and noodles around.

So, why did you come to earth?

Cato pauses. He’s standing in the middle of the kitchen like an idiot, frozen in real time as he stares dumbfounded into the bowl of noodles. Why… Why did he come to earth?

Hello? Earth to Cato? Your food is gonna get cold.

“Oh, right,” Cato shakes his head to rid him of his internal struggle. “I… I don’t know why I came to earth. I don’t seem to remember.” He manages to make his way to Chan’s kitchen table, which is just a small round table with two rickety chairs in the corner of his living room.

So do vessels usually die before god’s possess them?

“No, not usually – ah! Fuck, that’s still hot,” Cato whines, sticking his burned tongue out and waving air onto it with his fingers. Chan’s laugh echoes in his head, and he makes an offended noise from the back of his throat as he continues fanning his tongue.

So, me dying the same time you came down was just… pure luck?

“Yeah,” Cato makes sure to blow cold air onto the noodles this time. “I mean, lucky for me. Not so much for you.”

What’s gonna happen when you leave?

“You’ll probably die.”

But you healed me? Shouldn’t that stay when you leave?

Cato shrugs. “Don’t know. You’re technically not even supposed to be conscious like this, either. I’m supposed to have full control of your vessel if I possess it.”

Comforting.

It’s silent after that. Cato is grateful Chan has stopped playing twenty questions. It gives Cato’s one track mind a way to fully focus on his food and not about the fact that he does not remember why he’s even here in the first place. But it’s not like he can just go back up to the heavens and ask someone. As annoying as he is, he quite likes the human that’s his vessel. It’s a shame that once the god is done on earth, Chan’s fatal wounds will most likely come back full force.

Cato hopes he’s able to leave fast enough to not have to witness it.

After Cato ate, Chan was insistent on switching when it came time for his meet with you later in the evening. It took a lot of bickering back and forth, but once Chan got it through the stubborn god’s head that you would know something was off with him (that didn’t have to do with his head injury) the second Cato opened his, in Chan’s words, “big dumb mouth”.

“Why do we have to pass out to switch?” Chan asks as he steps out of the shower.

Do you always have this many questions? Gods, I feel like I’m speaking to a toddler.

Chan copies his words in a silly voice, rolling his eyes as he does so. “Sue me for wanting to know how to work my body with someone else camping in it.”

The way you said that just sounds so… weird.

“And a god possessing a human body is just a regular Tuesday, right?” the human jokes.

For us, yeah.

“Shut the fuck up, Cato,” Chan chuckles, shaking his head in faux annoyance. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror and runs his fingers through his thick curls. For some reason his stomach is buzzing at the thought of being in his studio with you.

Why are you so nervous to see y/n?

Chan’s cheeks heat up. “I’m not,” he mutters.

You know I can feel everything, right?

Chan doesn’t respond, too afraid that his voice might way to just how flustered he is. It’s true he finds you very attractive, and your personalities mesh well together. You both have a lot in common and since the day he met you he’s felt a weird, otherworldly pull towards you. “You said her name was familiar to you. Why?” Cato doesn’t respond for a minute, and Chan almost wonders if the god even heard him ask. “Cato?”

I… I don’t know. Just when you said it it just felt like deja vu for some reason. How long have you been friends?

“Since she started college,” Chan replies. “She’s like two years below me.”

Chan doesn’t miss the weird boulder that settles in his stomach. But for some reason, it feels distant. Like it’s not his boulder.

________________

❝apollo showed me the sun. told me not to fly too close or else i would be one with the people on the land.❞

The snake visited Eve in the garden everyday, in the same spot, resting its head on her naked shoulder as she weaved crown after crown of flowers every day, humming the same tune. It became a routine, and then it became something for Eve to look forward to. She finally had something for herself! Adam was out every day for most of it hunting so Eve spent a lot of time with this serpent.

She couldn’t place her finger on why, but when she was alone, weaving her flowers, with the snake on her shoulder, she’d talk. Like word vomit, she vented about her unhappiness in the garden and her jealousy towards her children being able to explore the vast earth and experience things she will never have the privilege to. For she was cursed to stay here, day after day, weaving her flowers in the garden, and bearing more and more children for a man she felt absolutely nothing for. Even the garden, once vibrant and vast to Eve, was now growing dull and shrinking in on her. She feels trapped, she’d say. Her world was dying, and there was nothing she could do about it.

“Why me?” She asked the snake one day. “Why did I have to be the first one made? Why do I have to carry this responsibility? Why wasn’t I asked first? Where’s my freewill?”

The snake nuzzles its head, like it was gesturing that it was listening to her. “I wish you were a person,” Eve whispered. “Maybe then I’d have someone who gets me.”

The serpent nuzzles its head again. Eve’s eyes well with hot tears.

She’s so lonely.

________________

Chan is reeling.

It’s hotter in his studio than usual. It’s definitely not because you’re alone with him in his studio and for some reason that’s making him more flustered than usual. Definitely not. He’s definitely not noticing the perfume you used, or the way your fingers flit over your laptop keys almost elegantly, the click of the keys echoing in his ears. He also most definitely was not looking at how your thighs look sitting in his extra chair, or how your dainty necklace falls on your neck, the charm brushing against the low collar of your tee shirt.

You’re sweating profusely right now. Calm down, you pervert.

Shut up, Cato. I feel like I can barely breathe right now.

Yeah, I know. That’s why I said calm down, pervert. Did you not hear me?

“Are you okay, Chan?” You ask him, concern washing over your pretty features as he tugs on the collar of his shirt for the fourth time in thirty seconds. “Do you want to cut this short and meet another day? You don’t look so good.”

Chan all but stops breathing when your delicate hand reaches up and presses gently against his forehead. Your hand is cold, and it works to cool his heated skin almost immediately. His eyes fall close, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “No, I’m okay,” he says, opening his eyes again and giving you a gentle smile. He watches as your cheeks flush the slightest bit. “Just needed a second is all.”

“Let’s take a break, yeah?” You say, closing your laptop as an excuse to not look at him for a second. Chan nods, and then it’s quiet for a minute. Neither of you know how to act around each other. Sure, you were friends but you weren’t best friends. Chan and you also never really hung out one on one, it was really always you, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung or anyone else in your classes. While he didn’t consider everyone to be his friends, always keeping to his close knit circle, he did know a lot of people, and those people also happened to know you. So it was never the right time to get to know you. “So… Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?” You puff your cheek out, shyly. Chan can’t help but let the smile stretch across his face.

“What’s there about me you wanna know?” He asks. Your cheeks flush again, and you scramble to keep your hands busy, opting to twirl your pen between your fingers.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “We’ve known each other for so long but I don’t think we’ve ever really had the chance to actually know each other.”

He nods. “You’re right,” he sucks in a breath, letting his gaze fall towards his desktop as he thinks of what to tell you. “Well, I was born in Australia.”

“Yeah, I know that,” you giggle. “You and Felix talk about it all the time. What’s it like there?”

“Hot,” he chuckles, shrugging. “It’s beautiful, really. All my family is still there so there’s… like this part of me that’s still there with them, if you get what I’m trying to say.” Chan lets out another breathy laugh, suddenly embarrassed.

“I think I do,” you say, nodding your head. “Like a piece of you is missing because it’s back home?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Chan says. “I miss it sometimes.”

“I bet. It must have been hard moving here all by yourself.”

“I mean yeah, but… I don’t know, as much as Australia is my home, this is also home, you know? I love what I do and I’ve found my people. So it makes up for the part of me I left at home,” you both nod along to his words, small smiles shyly turning up your mouths. “What about you?”

“Well,” you sigh, still twiddling with the pen. Your leg starts shaking. “I’m from here.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Chan copies your words, which brings out a giggle from you. His heart lurches.

I felt that.

Shut up.

“I don’t know, I…” you trail off, letting yourself think of what you wanna say. “My moms a school teacher and my dads a realtor, so we’re well off on my dad’s money. They’re kinda the… traditional, married at nineteen, had me at twenty, church every sunday, and have a certain plan for their daughter kind of people.”

“And?”

You shrug. “For the most part I went along with what they wanted me to do. Perfect grades, perfect clothes, perfect boyfriend that I’ll one day have to marry and continue the cycle,” Chan doesn’t miss the way his eye twitches at the mention of a boyfriend. “But, I really rocked the boat when I said I wanted to go into music production.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s… Well they say it’s unrealistic,” you sigh. “I’ve always loved music, and when my perfect, middle class family life got to be too much pressure to uphold, it comforted me. I taught myself all the instruments I know.”

“Impressive.” He chuckles.

“Right?” You giggle along with him. Chan decides he really likes that sound. “But, they expected me to almost go into something… I don’t know, easy? Something that will let me rely on Seojun when we eventually get married.”

“Do you want to get married?” Chan asks, eyebrow raising a little. Your fingers stop twiddling with the pen and your leg goes still for just a second before it picks up again.

“Honestly? No,” you say. “It’s just not something I feel like is for me. Of course, I want to spend the rest of my life with someone but I don’t need a piece of paper or an expensive ring to solidify that I love them and they love me.”

“How long have you been with Seojun?” Chan almost feels the bile that coats the man’s name as he says it.

“Three years,” you answer. “My dad is business partners with his dad and we met at a company party and it just kind of… I don’t know, happened.” You shrug.

“Is he in college too?” You nod your head yes.

“He’s in finance,” you glance over at him. “He’s actually almost done. He’ll be working under his dad after he graduates. His dad is also paying for his real estate classes after he graduates so he can sell commercial properties.”

It’s quiet again, and your leg is still shaking. Your face, now pointedly looking away from him, holds a sort of… loneliness. And almost a hint of regret for even saying what you did out loud.

Don’t ask that.

“Can I ask you a question?” Chan interrupts the heavy silence, and pointedly ignoring Cato’s warning. You hum, letting yourself look at him again. The loneliness he saw on your face floods your eyes. It’s almost overwhelming. “And you can tell me if I’ve crossed the line and we’ll never talk about this again.”

Don’t ask that.

“What is it?”

“Do you… like Seojun?”

And you asked it. I cannot believe you.

Your face falls, but it doesn’t morph into anger like he thought it would. You don’t yell at him, or tell him to mind his business and storm out. He doesn’t know why he was expecting you to lash out at him like that, though. Call it anxiety, he guesses. Instead, that loneliness intensifies — if that was even possible. You’re quiet for a minute, almost like you were deciding to lie to him or if you were about to spill something he’s not sure he — or you — would know what to do with.

“He’s nice,” you settle on. “We don’t have that much in common, but he treats me well.”

I don’t like that answer.

Neither do I.

Chan only nods, though.

“Should we get back to it, then?” You ask, your mouth turned into a tight lipped smile.

“Yeah.” He smiles.

You both delve into a rhythm of bouncing ideas off each other, and the building almost obsessively on the idea you both really like. Chan doesn’t know why he hasn’t worked with you before this, you’re so smart and your ideas are so unique and full of life. He can really see your love for music and the creative process behind making it. His heart flutters a bit at the thought that you both share this pure love for music in the same way.

“Do you wanna maybe meet again tomorrow?” You ask as you pack up your stuff. By the time you both decide to call it quits, it’s nearing one in the morning. He walks with you to your dorm, and he can’t help but smile shyly at the hopeful look in your angelic eyes. You're holding onto your tote bags strap that sits comfortably on your shoulder. He sees you shiver a little, and then only notices the pathetic little jacket you decided to wear despite it being less than forty degrees outside. He fights giving you his jacket. He would, normally without hesitation, but after learning you have a boyfriend he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries, no matter how cute he thinks you would look swimming in his hoodie.

Down boy, down.

Will you stop?

I’ll stop when you stop being such a male.

“We can go to the cafe on campus after class,” Chan suggests. You nod, giving him a bigger smile at his words. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your eyes glint with excitement as you nod your head. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Will do.” He reassures you as you open the main door to your dorm and walk in. He waves to you from outside and then steps off the porch, walking down the lit walkway, unable to erase the smile from his face.

You like her.

“Shut up,” he sputters out. “She’s always been in my sights, and I always thought she was cute. We just never had the chance to bond like that before. Changbin or Jisung are always usually with us, or my other friends.”

Too bad she’s someone else’s.

Chan rolls his eyes. Quietly, though, he wonders what would have happened had he met you before you met Seojun. Would you be his? Would you be happier with him?

Cato heard those too.

________________

❝didn’t know my world was dark until you came.❞

Eve sits in her usual spot, weaving her flowers once more. It’s another day, but this time she’s by herself. The snake hasn’t showed up yet, but she hopes it's on its way now. She tries not to let herself get too upset over not having her usual companion today, but she can’t help it. This newfound routine of her weaving flowers and talking to the snake while he rested peacefully on her arm has brought her more happiness than anything else in the garden – even the entire world – could.

So when a day turns into two, and then turns into three, then seven, her mood worsens. Even Adam, as unobservant as he is, noticed her change in mood. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong though, of course he doesn’t. As much as he claims to love her, to cherish her with his entire earthly being and his heavenly soul, he never seems to notice her until he wants to bend her over in the grass and give her another baby. Or two. Or three.

On the eighth day, when Eve is back at her favorite spot, weaving flower stems, a frown on her lips, a man approaches from out of the brush. It’s a man she has never seen before, but he is beautiful. Chocolate brown eyes and pretty brown hair to match with them, he gives her a gentle smile. “Hi,” he says. “You might not recognize me.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Eve says, on guard. She’s covering her body, cautious. “You’re not one of my children. So who are you?”

“I– I’m the snake,” he says. “My name is Cato. I’m a god.”

“Cato,” Eve repeats, the name swirling around her tongue pleasantly. “That means all-knowing.”

“Yes.”

“So, why did you come to me as a snake and not as yourself, Cato?” She asks, sitting up straighter against the tree behind her. “Why not show yourself to me from the start instead of deceiving me?”

“Forgive me, my dear,” he bows his head in apology. “I did not have an earthly body, and my heavenly form would have scared you. I transformed myself into a snake to meet you, and until my earthly body was ready. I am sorry for tricking you.” His eyes, his beautiful eyes, shine with genuine regret.

“What do you want from me?” She asks.

“Forgive me if I sound weird,” he starts. “But I was there when God made you. You are so beautiful, I will never understand how he did not make you an angel. Alas, I fell for you. And then before I could say anything, he sent you down here with Adam. And I had no way of meeting you anymore.”

“You…” she trails off. “Fell? For me?”

“Yes, my angel,” he says, walking closer and settling himself on his knees before her. “I fell for you. You have my heart. And if you let me, I would love to have yours.” The god takes her delicate hand into his, running his thumb over her knuckles. His hands engulf hers, long, spindly fingers holding hers with such love, such gentleness that she’s never felt from Adam’s rough, calloused hands.

She finds her heart fluttering at his honey coated words.

________________

When Chan gets home from dropping you off at your dorm, he remembers to send you a quick text before he retires into bed.

When he sleeps that night, he dreams. He dreams of him, in an earlier time, walking with you through a beautiful garden.

Your cream colored dress encases your body so elegantly, and the way you wore your hair out of your face yet still cascading down your back makes you look so… ethereal. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”

Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”

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

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

He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”

“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”

He wakes up in the morning, confused. The sadness he felt within the dream stays with him as he gets ready for the day, unable to shake the sinking feeling in his stomach. It’s uncomfortable, and he tries to get it to go away by saying to himself in the bathroom mirror, “it’s just a dream. Why are you so upset about it?”

Upset about what?

“Oh,” Chan says, startled by Cato’s questioning voice in his head. “Just… A weird dream. It’s nothing.”

Whatever you say, human.

Chan doesn’t respond, brushing his teeth in a tense, perturbed, silence.

—

Classes were dragging. He’s unable to fully pay attention to what his professors are saying because he can’t get the dream out of his head. Why did it feel so… real? And familiar? Like it's actually happened before? And the loneliness in your eyes from the dream matched the loneliness he saw in them last night when you were talking about Seojun.

Your thinking is echoing and it’s annoying me. What was the dream about?

A nicer way of asking “what’s wrong” is just asking what’s wrong, you know.

Chan’s eyes roll, but he doesn’t do it himself.

Don’t roll my eyes for me, I’m the one in control right now.

Sorry, I just had to show you my annoyance somehow.

This time, Chan does roll his eyes.

“Hyung?” Minho whispers from next to him, tapping his pen against the older man’s forearm. “Are you okay? You keep rolling your eyes.”

Damn, were they that dramatic?

Roll your eyes quieter next time, idiot.

You’re the idiot.

“I’m okay,” Chan reassures quietly. “Just trying to keep them from falling shut.”

“Did you not get enough sleep again? Do I need to start coming over and knocking you out?” Minho balls his hand into a fist, and it takes everything in Chan to not laugh at his friends' antics. Before he can respond, though, their professor clears his throat in annoyance, giving them a glare from his spot in front of the lecture hall. They exchange embarrassed glances before going back to listening to the lecture.

He quickly makes eye contact with you from a few seats in front of him, and he watches in amusement as you scramble to face completely forward, flustered that he caught you staring at him. He exhales a laugh at your antics, shaking his head slightly as he goes back to typing on his laptop.

Cute.

Yeah.

After class ends, and Chan’s packing up his stuff, you walk up to him, your tote bag over your shoulder, giving him a shy smile. “You ready?”

Minho wiggles his eyebrows at Chan, and he tries not to notice how his cheeks flush at his younger friends' antics. “Yeah, let’s go,” he responds. He turns to Minho, who’s giving him a raised eyebrow. “See you around, Min.”

“Yeah,” the younger male responds. “Bye, y/n!” He waves her a goodbye, of which you copy quite excitedly. The corner of Chan’s lip turns up into a small smile at your antics towards the other male. He knows that out of their whole group, you seem to be closest with Minho and Hwang Hyunjin, always seeing you three together in passing. He wonders if you two will start getting closer, even after the project is finished. He hopes so. He doesn’t think he can go about just being casual to each other – especially after last night's conversation.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Your voice breaks through his thoughts, causing him to shake his head a bit in response.

Good going, idiot.

Shut up, Cato. As if you’ve done any better with her. Remember the convenience store?

This isn’t about me right now.

He fights rolling his eyes. “No reason,” he answers you. “Come on, let’s get some coffee.”

The cafe he took you to is the one right across the street from the building your class was held in. It used to be a house, now repurposed as a cafe, and it has the perfect homey feel to it to help you feel comfortable and relaxed as you picked a seat in one of the upstairs rooms that has a couple tables in each of them for a little more privacy. The morning sun is shining brightly into the window, and Chan can’t help but let out a small chuckle to himself as he watches the way you squint from the sun as you try and look out the window. “Should I close the blind?” He asks as he sits across from you, pushing your tea to your side.

“No,” you say as you happily pick up the cup. You blow on your tea to cool it down, and Chan can’t help but let his smile grow at the way your cheeks puff out dramatically when you blow on the drink. “I like sunbathing. Minho’s cats and I will lay on our bellies together in front of the big windows in his living room.”

“I’d love to see that sometime,” he laughs out. He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks flush and you giggle shyly in response. “I’m sure Min has a plethora of pictures of it.”

“Don’t tell him I told you but,” you start, taking a sip of your tea. “He joins us.”

“Somehow I really don’t doubt that.”

You fall into a rhythm once more over your project, and after a couple hours, you both decide to take a break.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” You ask him out of nowhere, now sipping on a second cup of tea. Chan chokes on his coffee, but he quickly covers it up by clearing his throat.

Cato laughs. Nice one.

Shut the fuck up, Cato.

“No, I’m not,” Chan answers, taking a more cautious sip now. “I’ve never actually been in a serious relationship.”

“Oh?” you say, quizzically. “So, you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

“No, I have.” He answers, his cheeks heating. He doesn’t understand why he’s so flustered with your questions, even if they did come out of nowhere. Well, he does understand why. He just doesn’t wanna say it out loud.

They weren’t y/n, though, right, Channie boy?

Cato, I swear to God.

Don’t bring the Big Man into this.

“But?” You inquire.

“But,” he copies. “They just didn’t work out. We wanted different things.” He shrugs, and you nod in understanding. “Why the sudden interest in my love life, y/n?” The teasing lilt to his voice causes you to stammer out, falling (rather cutely) over your words, trying your best to come up with a reason. Chan chuckles at the rattled expression on your face.

You know why she’s asking.

I don’t.

Don’t be stupid, Chan.

Chan fights a scoff at the god’s words, not wanting to give you the wrong impression. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to explain who’s camping in his consciousness with him without taking a trip to the nearest psych ward.

‘Man claims God lives in him’ has been a headline I’ve seen too much in the time humans have existed.

I wonder why.

Before Chan can continue the conversation he has with you (more like redirect it so he doesn’t have to admit to his commitment issues), something – or someone – catches your attention from behind him. The way your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and a flash of disdain that goes away as fast as it showed up cause Chan to turn around. A man is seating himself in the room across the hall, a blonde girl at his side as they laugh at something the man says. He turns back around to see that you’re still looking at them. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that’s Seojun,” you say. Chan’s stomach drops, turning back around at the exact time Seojun turns to look at the two of you. Something flashes across the other man’s face, but it’s gone before Chan can even fully register what it is.

Seojun turns to the blonde next to him, before he turns back and starts walking towards their table. Seojun is… wow, is he tall. And buff. Chan almost feels intimated.

Oh great, here comes the jolly green giant.

Chan has to force himself to not laugh at Cato’s comment as he turns back to you. You give him a weird face, which he decides to ignore.

Cato, please.

I’m just saying. Why is God so unfair when he makes you humans? He could have given Seojun’s extra height to you.

Stop it!

No one needs to be that tall is all I’m saying.

“What are you doing here, babe?” Seojun asks as he stands next to you at the table, a rushed lilt to his voice. Almost like he’S panicking. Chan watches your face as it drops, the tight lipped smile you give to your boyfriend is clear to no one but him. “Who’s this?”

“This is Chan,” you answer. “He’s my partner for a project.”

“Hey. I’m her boyfriend, Seojun,” the other man says, outstretching his hand for Chan to take. He does, giving it a firm shake and a quick head nod in greeting. “Though, I’m sure you’ve already heard of me.”

Arrogant.

Tell me about it.

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty,” Chan responds, the snark in his voice subtle enough that it seems like a genuine compliment. “She said you were in finance.”

“Oh, yeah,” Seojun answers. “It’s gonna help out a lot, money wise. This girl right here wants a big wedding. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Chan’s eye twitches as he looks to you for your response. Your smile is that of discomfort, tight lipped as you rigidly nod your head, not making eye contact with Chan.

“Who are you with?” You ask, changing the subject as you strain your neck to look into the next room. “Is that Aecha?”

Seojun’s face drops. “Oh, uh, no. That's my project partner,” he answers quickly. “We have a business plan due in a couple weeks so we’re meeting to get it done early.”

“Oh, okay,” you say simply. Your eyes stay on the girl in the other room, squinting a little in suspicion.“I didn’t know you had a project.”

“Yeah,” Seojun rubs his neck, almost nervously. “Well, I should get back to her. I’ll leave you two alone, now. Don’t forget about the dinner with our parents tomorrow.”

“How could I,” you mutter as he starts walking away. “I’ll see you later.”

Chan’s almost grateful that Seojun didn’t kiss you. It seems you look grateful he didn’t, too. He can’t help but notice the way your mood instantly sours after Seojun leaves, though you try not to show it too much. You give him a forced smile. “Shall we continue with our project then?” You ask him, your voice pitches higher towards the end, and Chan knows you’re uncomfortable.

I don’t like him.

Neither do I.

________________

❝i could die in your arms.❞

Eve is giggling.

She’s resting her head on the soft grass that encases her body, the edges of the blades tickling against her naked waist. Cato lays next to her, chuckling along with her. “So,” she starts as she sits up on her side, picking a flower from the field and rolling it between her fingers gently. “If your name means all-knowing… Does that mean you’re a god of knowledge?”

Cato quiets. Eerily quiet. In the short time Eve has known him as his humanly self, he is never short of words. He always has a story or a joke to tell, Eve wonders how his puny human lungs can even hold that much air for him to talk so much. So, for him to go as quiet as he did, she worries.

“Did I say something to upset you?” she asks, her delicate fingers stopping its movements. He also sits up on his side, letting his long fingers brush through the front of her hair as a small smile encases his beautiful face.

“No, my angel,” he responds. “You could never do anything to upset me,” his thumb swiped gently across her bottom lip, and then down her chin before his hand fell back to his side. Eve feels her face heat up. “I’m not the god of knowledge, as you might think. Actually… I’m a calamity god.”

Eve doesn’t respond. “Like… the flood? That kind of calamity?”

He nods. “I was ordered to flood the earth myself.”

“It killed everyone…” Eve whispers, widened eyes filled with tears. “Why?”

“God is…” Cato trails, unsure if he should continue. His eyes, so beautiful and such a deep color, cascade down to glare at the grass blades dancing in the wind, unbeknownst to them that a god is staring them down with a look of disdain on his expression. Eve can see the regret and the anger in his eyes as he stares down at the earth beneath them. Eve wishes she can rid him of the hatred he feels for himself.

He doesn’t have to say anything, though. Because Eve knows how God is. She knows how He is all too well. For she, too, has been forced to be things she does not wish to be, solely because the person who created her says so. Her own eyes well with tears. Tears of anger and sadness, for both her and Cato. She doesn’t think anyone on this damned planet will ever understand them the way they do each other.

“Did you want to?” She asks. Cato shakes his head.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he adds. “It’s what I was created for. To bring destruction.”

“I think you’re more than what you were meant for.” She says, a smile on her face.

Eve doesn’t expect it, but the god starts crying. And as he cries, she cradles him in her arms, brushing her fingers through his curly hair. “You are good, Cato,” she whispers in his ear, letting her lips ghost gently against the shell of it. “It does not matter what you have done, you are good.”

She presses a gentle kiss to his temple as his wails echo in the garden.

________________

Chan doesn’t hear from you all weekend. You weren’t in class Friday morning, and you haven’t answered any of his messages since before your dinner with your parents. He hasn’t thought much of it. He assumed you had a late night on Thursday and just skipped class the next morning because you were nursing a hangover.

“Hey, have you heard from y/n?” Minho asks him Monday afternoon, when their whole group is sitting at a table in the cafeteria. “I’m only asking because you two have been… close recently.”

His cheeks flush as he watches his other friends look at him with widened eyes and agape mouths. “Uh, no I haven’t. I was actually just gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Didn’t she have dinner with her parents on Thursday?” Jeongin asks. Chan nods in response. “Last I heard from her was when she was asking me which outfit was appropriate for the dinner, she didn’t seem like she wanted to go, though.”

“Yeah, she was texting our group chat during it and she wasn’t having a very good time. But she never usually does with her parents involved.” Hyunjin adds, taking a bite of his noodles.

“What group chat? I didn’t get anything in our group chat,” Jisung whines, opening his phone to double check.

“Me, y/n, Minho hyung and Felix all have a separate group chat together,” Hyunjin answers casually. “She was texting in there.”

Chan tunes them out as Jisung and Changbin start whining that they want a group chat with you, but all Chan can focus on is how you’ve gone completely silent since Wednesday.

“Hey, hyung,” Felix says, getting the older man’s attention by waving his small hand in front of his face. “Don’t worry about y/n. She’s okay. She goes ghost like this sometimes, especially after an event with her parents. She’ll come back around soon, she just needs to recharge.”

“Are you mad at her for not answering you?” Minho questions, eyebrow raised. The younger male looked as if he was waiting for Chan to answer the wrong way.

“No, of course not. Why would I be?” Chan shakes his head in response. “I was just worried. We’ve just… been talking a lot recently and I wasn’t sure if I did something to upset her or anything.”

“I don’t think you could ever do anything to upset her.” Felix mutters, and Chan watches in confusion as he and Hyunjin both share a knowing look with one another. Minho elbows Hyunjin in the ribs.

It means she likes you, idiot.

Do you know how to be nice?

Chan doesn’t get any response from you until Tuesday night. A simple “can i come over?” was all you sent him.

Now, he’s panickedly cleaning his apartment while he waits anxiously for you.

Why don’t you clean like this on a normal day?

“Because,” Chan grunts as he scrubs at a particular stain in his bowl. “I’m a busy guy and don’t have time to keep up with things regularly.”

Just as Cato is about to respond, there's a knock on the front door. Chan stops in his tracks, hurriedly rinsing the bowl and adding the last couple of dishes into one side of the sink to hide them as he runs to answer the door, clumsily drying his hands on his pants. When he opens the door, you’re standing there, glaring at the space where the door was a second ago. “Hey,” he says, which snaps you out of your trance to look up at him.

“Hi,” you answer softly, smiling. Though it doesn’t match the defeated look in your eyes. “Can I come in?”

Chan nods, stepping aside as you walk into his apartment. He follows you to his couch, where you both sit on opposite ends. Your legs immediately go up, knees pressing against your chest as you wrap your arms around your legs. You’re not making eye contact with Chan, and it makes his stomach hollow in anxiety. You look so sad it almost feels like it’s creeping into his bones, souring his mood and ramping up his anxiety as he sees you cave in on yourself from the other end of his couch. He watches as you bat away tears, rolling your eyes in annoyance as they fill your pretty eyes.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Chan asks softly, scooting himself closer to you. He crosses his legs on his couch and turns his body to you, giving you a softened, welcoming look. The hand that isn’t propping his head against the back of the couch is twitching on his legs to reach out, to hold yours to comfort you. But he doesn’t want to over step and make you uncomfortable. You don’t answer, seemingly falling back into a spaced out trance, if the unfocus in your eyes is anything to go by. He lets his finger gently rub against your shin to get your attention, and he watches as your eyes fill with tears once more as you look up at him. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip. “Just… wanted to see you.”

Chan doesn’t believe it, giving you a raised eyebrow. “Just to see me?”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing. “I missed you is all,” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, giving him a small smile. “I got used to seeing you all the time now.”

Chan’s cheeks flush, and he tries not to let his smile get too dopey as his heart flutters at your words.

Oh! You pathetic man.

Stop.

“How was the dinner with your parents?” Chan asks. You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your throat as you look away from him. “Was it bad?”

You’re quiet. You look as if you want to say something, the words on the tip of your tongue and threatening to spill over. But you hesitate. You’re biting your tongue as you contemplate your next words. It almost concerns him.

“If I do something,” you start quietly. “Would you be mad?”

Chan’s eyebrows scrunch, his head tilting to the side in question. “What is it?”

“Can I try something?” Eve asks, tilting her head as her eyes flicker between Cato’s mouth and his pretty dark eyes. Cato nods, watching in nervous anticipation as Eve climbs over his lap, plush thighs on either side of his lips as she leans in and ghosts her lips against his.

Cato catches her mouth in a soft, tender kiss. It raises goosebumps to their skin, and their heartbeats quicken. Eve’s belly erupts in butterflies, climbing up her throat and she lets out a small sound. Cato hands find home at her waist, the pads of his fingers indenting her skin as he squeezes gently.

You finally look at him, eyes flitting down the length of his face, stopping at his mouth before looking at him again. Your gaze flickers between his mouth and his eyes before you lean forward, your nose ghosting against his as your lips meet. Chan responds immediately, cupping your face and deepening the kiss.

It’s shy, yet so electric. The butterflies you feel in your stomach are intense, prickling up your back and making you light headed. It isn’t long before you're clamoring across the couch and into Chan’s lap. His hands slide down your waist before he wraps his arms around your back, caging you into his body. He keeps his mouth working against yours, and can’t help the way his cock jumps when your hips shift a little, pressing your clothed core against him. Your hands hold his face, your thumb brushing against the apples of his cheeks every once and a while. His heart swells at the noises you make as you shyly start to grind yourself down against him, wanting to feel him more and more against you.

Should you really be doing that?

Doing what?

Kissing someone who isn’t yours.

“Wait,” Chan says as he pulls back. He has to swallow the groan that’s threatening to escape his throat as he takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are red, lips swollen and spit slick. You already look so fucked out and all he’s done is kiss you. He feels like he’s going crazy. “What about Seojun?”

“What about Adam?” Cato asks Eve as he breaks away, his fingers rubbing circles on her hips.

“It was never Seojun,” You respond, shaking your head. Your thumb swipes against his cheek. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Chan.”

“It was never Adam,” Eve responds, nails digging into the skin on his shoulders. “I waited for you for so long, Cato.”

“Since the day I met you,” you continued, breathless. Somehow, your cheeks turn redder. He doesn’t think you could look more angelic than right now. “I’ve wanted you.”

“Since the day I came into existence,” Eve sighs out. Cato thinks she looks absolutely ethereal this way. “I’ve waited for you.”

Cato can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips as he leans up to kiss her again.

Chan doesn’t respond, only placing a hand at the back of your neck and pulling you back down to him. He kisses you again, this time a little more desperate, a little more aggressive. You whine, letting your lips fall open so his tongue can explore inside your mouth. Your mouths work in perfect sync with one another, a desperate, needy, rhythm that says more than any words in the English and Korean lexicon could ever say. He can’t explain the way he feels while he’s kissing you, but he feels as if clouds are filling his head.

His hands move back to your hips, helping you to grind down against his hardened cock, and he doesn’t miss the way your whines sound more and more breathy each time he moves you against him. “Have you ever had sex before?” He asks you.

“No,” you say. “No one’s ever touched me, either.”

“You mean, in the three years you’ve been with Seojun, he hasn’t fucked you once?” Chan asks, eyebrows furrowing and a sense of pride filling his chest. You shake your head. “Why?”

“I didn’t want him to.” You whisper.

He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist as he stands up from his couch, carrying you into his bedroom and gently placing you atop his sheets.

Cato lays her naked body gently on her back in the soft grass. She looks so pretty like this, some of hair still laying softly over her shoulders and the rest blending beautifully with the grass, eyes widened in curiosity. “I got you, my love,” he says in a gentle voice as he crawls over her. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

He thinks this sight alone is enough to be painted and framed in a gallery. Eve, splayed out like this for him with her ruddy cheeks and widened eyes. It was a sight he never wanted to stop seeing.

He kisses her again before letting his mouth move from her own to her cheek, jaw, then down her neck, biting softly on his way down.

Chan unbuttons your jeans, and you help him with getting them off your legs and onto his floor. He takes off your shirt and bra next, leaving you only in your underwear. He crawls over you, his thigh slotting in between your legs and ghosting against your clothed cunt. “Let me take care of you, my love.”

He kisses your lips once more before he places a kiss on your cheek, then along your jaw, then down the expense of your neck, leaving pretty purple marks along the way. He stops at your breasts, ghosting his mouth around one nipple before taking it into his mouth. His free hand comes to tweak the other, softly pinching and rubbing along the top of it while his mouth works at the other. Your hand weaves its way into his soft curls, pushing them off his forehead so you can see what he’s doing better. He almost moans at the feeling of your hips bucking up to slide your cunt against his thigh.

“Just like that, angel,” he mutters against your skin. You whine, your fingers almost kneading the top of his head. He presses his thigh more into your core, giving you more friction that makes your sensitive body jolt and your breath hitch.

He doesn’t stay long at your breasts, opting to let his kisses and marks trail down your torso, right to your hips. He settles onto his stomach, hands holding the under part of your hips as he takes in the sight of your cunt. A wet patch has soaked through your underwear, sticking to your lips and outlining the shape of you. He presses a gentle kiss against the wet patch, and he doesn’t miss the way your hips jolt back. “Chan,” You whine.

“Yes?” He coos, freeing a hand from under you and letting his pointer finger gently ghost along your cunt. You wiggle your hips, trying to get more pressure from his finger but he pulls it away. “You have to tell me what you want, angel. Wiggling your hips isn’t gonna help me know what you want.”

He watches in adoration as your cheeks flush yet again, your eyes darting to look everywhere but at him as you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “I want you to touch me,” you whisper. “Please, touch me.” Your words come out so breathy, so desperate, it makes Chan’s head want to explode. He gives you a smile.

“Anything for you, my love,” he responds before he sits back up on his knees, letting his fingers grab ahold of the waistband of your panties and sliding them slowly down your legs with your help. They fall somewhere on the edge of the bed behind him, but it’s not something he’s concerned about as the musky smell of your cunt hits his nose again as he lays back down. Your cunt glistens so prettily for him, and he forces himself to hold in a moan. “You’re so pretty.”

His fingers slide up and down between your swollen lips, and you let out small whines whenever his fingers rub a teasing circle against your clit that’s peeking out between your slit. He kisses along your inner thighs, across your mound as he slowly inserts a finger into your entrance.

Cato kisses along Eve’s thighs, before he gives a broad swipe of his tongue up the expense of her cunt. She gasps, hips twitching. “Has he ever done this to you?”

“No,” Eve sighs out as Cato gives another broad swipe. “He barely touches me.” Cato doesn’t respond, letting his tongue circle around Eve’s clit, which elicits a moan to fall from her pretty mouth.

“Don’t worry, my angel,” Cato says. “I’ll show you just how a man should love you.”

Your walls clench around his finger, and he places gentle kisses against your sensitive nub, whispering, “Relax, baby. I got you.” Your body deflates when you let out the breath you were holding, your own hand falling towards the hand that’s gripping onto your hip. You intertwine your fingers together, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze as he crooks his finger up into that spongy spot that has your back arching slightly and a gasp falling from your pretty lips. His mouth attaches itself to your clit, alternating between lightly sucking and feverish kitten licks. Your hand squeezes his as shy moans involuntarily fall from your lips at his ministrations.

He feels his cock pulsing at each sound you let out, and he can’t help but grind his hips down onto the bed for some friction of his own. “Chan, more, please,” you whine out, bucking your hips into his face. He doesn’t hesitate to add another finger, scissoring you open as his mouth continues at your clit. He pumps his fingers in and out of your entrance slowly, making sure to hook up when he plunges back in. You’re so tight around his fingers, and he can’t help but let out a moan at the thought of you taking his cock, sucking him into your warm walls. The fact that no one has ever touched you – not even your own boyfriend – and that he has the honor of being your first is driving him up a wall.

Only he gets to see you this way. Only he gets to hear your whiny moans, and only he gets to see the pretty way your body reacts to his touch. He can't help but let his fingers get a little faster, a little more prominent in the way they press against that sweet spot that has the coil tightening in the pit of your belly. “Chan.”

“You gonna cum, angel?” He asks against your pussy, keeping his steady yet harsh rhythm of his fingers plunging into your hole. You let out a hum as your response, and he can’t help but smile against your cunt. He keeps his mouth on your clit, his eyes rolling back as you let out another moan, your hips bucking to feel more, more, more. You clench around his fingers, your pretty sounds are strangled as your body clenches up, and that’s when he knows to remove his mouth from your clit, watching your face as your jaw slacks, and your body writhes so prettily under him. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.” He slows his fingers, helping you ride out your high on his fingers. You feel so much more wet than before, and it takes every ounce of control Chan has to not dive back in and overstimulate you, drive you to another one. And another one. Until you’re spent and begging for him to stop, yet pushing him closer to continue.

Next time.

He moves up your body, and kisses you again. You let out a whine when you taste yourself on his tongue, your own essence covering your chin from his own as he licks into your mouth. You use your legs to redirect him, so his clothed cock lines up with your dripping pussy as he grinds his hips down against you. You shiver, still sensitive from just a second ago. “I want you,” you whisper. He pulls away, looking at you with widened eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “Cause if you’re actually not ready, tell me. I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ve waited for you long enough,” you answer, rutting your hips up against him. He sucks in a breath. “Please?”

Chan only nods as he climbs off you to discard his clothes to the floor. The bruising on his side hasn’t fully gone away, but it’s not as bad as it was last week. “Was that from your fall?” You ask him as he climbs over you again, your delicate fingers ghosting over his ribcage.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, looking down at your hand. “I didn’t actually fall, though. I got hit by a car.”

“I know.”

Chan gives you a double take, eyebrows scrunched and his mouth agape in confusion. You giggle and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You know?”

“Yeah, I was with Changbin and Jisung when he got the call,” you respond, still giggling. “I just figured you said you fell to not worry me.”

Yeah, we can go with that. Really I was just saving you the embarrassment. Who gets hit by cars these days?

Don’t ruin this, Cato.

Chan only chuckles softly, his smile widening and crinkling his eyes in such a pretty way. You can’t help but lean up and press your lips to his, your hands cupping his cheeks to bring his face down with yours. He kisses you back quickly, letting you take the lead as he opens your legs and maneuvers himself so his cock can glide along your slit. You lift your legs more, letting the head of his cock catch along your entrance. “Please,” you whisper against his mouth. “I’m ready.”

Chan moves a hand down to guide the tip of his cock into your entrance, and he goes slow as he sheathes himself inside. You tense up, the pressure a foreign feeling. “Relax,” he whispers, kissing along your cheek and down your jaw. A small whine leaves your mouth and he stills his hips immediately. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt it just… feels full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, letting himself move again. One his hips are touching yours, you can fully feel him snugly inside you. You feel so full, and it’s so overwhelming but so addictive at the same time. It feels as if you were molded to fit him. He gives an experimental movement, and your hands immediately go to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You can move.” He kisses you, distracting you as he pulls out and then plunges back in again. He keeps it at a slow rhythm at first, letting you get used to the feeling before he gradually starts speeding up. You were so tight around him, your velvety walls welcoming him in with each time the head of his cock ghosts along that spongy part that has the breath punched out of you again and again.

“You feel so good, angel,” he grunts against your neck. “Like you were made for me.” You can only choke out a moan in response, nails raking over his shoulders. He intertwines his fingers with yours above your head, and he digs his face further into your neck as he places wet kisses along it.

Cato intertwined his fingers with Eve’s as he slowly moved his hips. “You’re mine?” Cato asked.

“Yours. I’m yours,” Eve gasped in response.“I love you.” Cato can only smile as he dips his head down to capture her lips in a messy kiss.

Chan keeps a steady pace, making sure to angle himself upwards when he thrusts back in. He hits deep, stretching you around his cock and every time he’s at the hilt, it knocks the wind out of your lungs. The breathy moans you let out at each thrust sends Chan deeper and deeper into the clouds, mind hazy and senses full of you. You’re everywhere, it seems, encasing his body in yours as the whole world melts away. He about loses his hold on himself when your quivering walls start clenching around him, greedily sucking him back in. His thrusts speed up, his one hand letting go of yours and finding home under your head, a fist full of hair as he brings your body as close to his as possible. The feel of your breasts pressing against his chest grounds him a bit, and he lets out a strained moan from the back of his throat.

“Cum in me,” you manage to say in between strangled sounds. “I want it, please.”

“Just a little more,” Chan grunts out. “Almost there. Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so good for me, angel.”

Chan’s hips still, his cum shooting into you and painting your walls. He moans, whiney, as he shoves his face back into your neck. Your hands move to his hair, raking through it as you whisper in his ear.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

—

You spend the night at Chan’s house, only sending a simple message to your group chat with Hyunjin, Minho, and Felix where you were staying and that you were okay. Your simple message respectively blows up the group chat, with Felix and Hyunjin practically screaming to tell them details, and then Minho crashing into your world like a meteor with one single question.

Did you break up with Seojun?

You decided not to answer that question (because you haven’t), only texting back that you’ll explain when you get back to class on Friday and then shakily put your phone down on the coffee table. You look over towards the kitchen to see Chan’s back towards you, the sizzling of the food in the pan the only sound filling the apartment. You can’t help but smile at the sight. You uncross your legs from the couch, walking into the kitchen area and standing behind Chan. Your arms wrap lovingly around his waist, your cheek pressing into his back and you feel his body relax into your hold. He turns down the stove and turns around in your hold, a smile adorning his features as he places a kiss against your lips.

“Thanks for letting me stay last night,” you say as he pulls away from you. “I didn’t want to face Ryujin’s interrogation yet.”

“Well, now you’re gonna have to face mine,” Chan says, raising his eyebrow at you. You smile sheepishly at him, your gaze tearing away from his. He lifts your chin up, forcing you to keep eye contact. “What happened?”

You sigh, pulling your body away. You run your hand over your face as you lean against the counter behind you. Chan does the same on the opposite side, giving you an expectant look as he waits for you to start talking. “I found out Seojun was cheating on me. At the dinner.” You say, voice a little shaky.

Chan pauses, and his stomach drops. Seojun was cheating?

Don’t act as if you aren’t happy to hear that.

I’m not happy! That’s awful!

You know what I mean, you idiot. You’re happy he’s out of the way now.

Chan doesn’t respond to Cato, focusing his attention back to you. “I’m so sorry, y/n,” he responds, his arm stretching over to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t deserve that.”

You take in a breath. “Yeah, well,” you shrug. “It happens. Sad thing is, I can’t even say I’m surprised. Looking back, it makes a lot of sense.”

Chan’s eyebrow furrows. “Did… you break up with him?”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “I… haven’t yet.”

And you slept with her.

“You… You haven’t?” He asks, confusion painting across his face. “Why?”

“I— I was going to,” you start. “I just… I wanted to see you first,”

“y/n,” Chan says, voice shaky. “Am I a rebound?”

You shake your head vigorously, your own eyes shining with unshed tears. “No! No, I really wasn’t planning on last night happening at all. I wanted to break up with him first but I just… I don’t know, I had to see you first.”

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks. “About wanting to be with me as long as you said?”

“Yes,” you nod. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask Hyunjin or Felix. Even Minho. They know how I feel about you.”

Chan’s quiet. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know what to think. On one hand, the selfish hand, he’s over the moon he had you in his bed last night, and he’s still a bit drunk off your words from last night. But, on the other hand, he wants to send you on your way, to give himself, and you, some space. He can’t believe he didn’t prod further about what you meant last night. He just assumed by your confession, you had already broken it off with Seojun.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I should probably go.”

“Call me when you break it off with Seojun, okay?” Chan finally says, nodding his head. His heart clenches as he sees a tear fall down your face. “We’ll talk about us after that.”

The silence that replaces the apartment after you leave is deafening.

Chan?

“Not now, Cato,” Chan replies, shaking his head. He can feel a migraine coming on, his eyes becoming sore and sensitive to the bright lights of his kitchen. “Shit,” a pained whimper falls from his throat as he massages his eyes. “I think I need to call someone.”

I remember why I came to Earth.

“Can it wait until later, please?” Chan winces, annoyance mixing with the pain in his voice. “My head is fucking splitting.”

Chan…

“Cato, for fucks sake, please!” He yells, which makes his head pound even more. “I can’t figure out your problem right now.”

Cato doesn’t respond.

Chan calls Minho, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best idea, but he knew Jisung and Changbin would be loud and dramatic and he really didn’t want that right now. Minho is quiet, and he knows what to do when Chan is under the weather.

The younger male is quick to arrive, immediately shoving pain pills into Chan’s hand and ordering him to take them. “Were you making something?” Minho asks as he points to the pan.

“Oh, yeah,” Chan said from the couch. His head feels as if it can explode. “I was making y/n and I breakfast when—” he stops himself, looking over through his lashes at the other man.

“I already know,” Minho says. “So, where is she?”

“Uh, well,” Chan starts, having to take a second to will away the urge to vomit. “I slept with her…”

“And?”

“She never broke up with Seojun before we did.” Minho sighs, shaking his head as he joins the brunette on the couch.

“I told her she needed to do that first,” Minho responds. “She’s just as impulsive as Han Jisung. Worse than Han Jisung, actually.”

Chan wants to chuckle, but his head is somehow getting worse. His body starts aching again, as if the bruises are coming back. And suddenly it hurts to breathe. “Min,” he grunts out. “Min, I think we need to go to the hospital.”

“What’s wrong?”

Chan?

I feel like I’m fucking dying again.

Chan collapses to the floor, and when Minho slides down with him does he notice the blood pooling and staining the rug underneath the older man’s head. “Fuck. Fuck, okay. Hold on, hyung. I’m calling for help.”

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on Chan’s body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in his living room. He starts to panic, lungs starting to work overtime as Minho calls the emergency hotline from somewhere in the room.

Cato, what’s going on?

Your… Your injuries are coming back.

A white, blinding light floods Chan’s vision from the ceiling, and he feels a pull from the light.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Cato?

I’m getting taken back, Chan.

Cato! Don’t leave me!

The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. He feels like a layer of his skin is being peeled away as the pressure in his head worsens, and Cato’s voice gets farther and farther away.

“Ca—” Chan tries to call out to him, but he passes out before he could.

I’m dying.

________________

❝took my breath from my open mouth, never known how it broke me down.❞

Cato and Eve snuck around under Adam’s nose after that fateful morning in the garden. Always meeting at the spot where they first met, making love to the song of the stream whenever they could. It felt different with Cato. It felt… good. Like lying with this man wasn’t a chore, but something she felt was their way of bonding. Connecting. She didn’t give a damn what God said.

She was not made for Adam. She and the god, Cato, were weaved from the same essence that brought them life — a single soul split into two different beings. And by lying with him, it strengthened that. She was his, as he was hers.

Cato was such a gentle lover, compared to Adam (if you could even call Adam a lover). Cato took her into his arms and worshiped her body as if she was a Goddess herself. The way his fingers indented her skin on her hips when his head was in between her thighs, lapping at her nectar, had her seeing stars. She found God in a lover, and the forbidden fruit tasted so sweet on her tongue.

Eve was happy.

That happiness didn't last long, though. And she was foolish to think it would.

She swore Adam went out to hunt that day, she saw him off. So, how he managed to find Eve at the stream hanging off a cock that wasn’t his, she’ll never know.

Adam told God right away.

Cato was ripped from her before she could even get to her knees. Before she could beg. She watched as a bright light encased Cato’s earthly body from the heavens, the light so blinding she’s forced to look to the ground if she still wished to keep her sight. She wailed that day, a mantra of inhuman, throat curdling sounds ripped from deep within her core as she punched her fists into the soil.

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” She howled. Adam stood behind her, face stoic as he watched Eve mourn the loss of her lover.

“It’s what you deserve,” Adam spits. “You’re lucky I’m gracious enough to let you live. Your pretty face would be one with stone if I was anyone else.”

Eve’s crying stopped then. The garden of Eden was silent, not even the stream was brave enough to sing. Everything was dead still, a simmering animosity burned brightly just under the surface of Eve’s plush skin. Adam’s stoicism fell as he caught the look on his wife’s face.

It was that of pure, unadulterated rage.

“I should have strung you up to that tree when I had the chance.” The venom drips from her words and poisons Adam’s veins the second they hit him.

—

“You weren’t supposed to tempt Eve,” God’s commanding voice boomed across the heavens. Cato sat on his knees, wrists and ankles chained to the marble ground. Different god’s sat around, watching the serpent intently, curious as to what was to happen to him. “You weren’t even supposed to make yourself known to her.”

“I told you why I was going to Earth,” Cato responded, voice tired. “I told you I fell for someone.”

“And that person was not supposed to be Eve!” Thunder cracked angrily across the sky. Murmurs erupted among the other gods. “You have tainted her, driven her off her path to her purpose.”

“Her purpose?” Cato repeated, indignant. “Her purpose is to be a breeding cow for a man who can’t even bother to see her as his equal?”

“And you were equals?” God laughed, a bellowing, boom laugh at the lesser god’s foolishness. “You’re a god, Cato. A heavenly entity that simple mortals can barely fathom the concept of. And you think Eve and you are equals?”

“I love her.”

Whispers of “love her?” echo through the chamber.

“She’s not yours to love!” God’s angry voice silenced the whispers, a tense stillness crushing Cato and pressing on his lungs. “You know I have to punish you.”

“Punish me all you wish,” Cato spat. “It will never deter how I feel for Eve.”

“Oh, my sweet child, it will.”

—

Cato wakes to cold biting at his skin. It’s so cold, so so cold. His eyes open to gray skies and heavy snow sprinkling along his cheeks. Snow covered trees line the horizon of his bleary vision, head pounding and body aching. He moves his fingers, feeling under the layer of snow and making way to the dead grass underneath.

He’s on Earth.

He tries to sit up, but his chest is burning and he’s having a hard time moving his arms. He feels like his body is being held down by a cinder block, unable to move himself from his spot.

“General Bang!” A voice shouts, muffled. He moves his head to find the voice, but a face comes into his line of vision as he looks right. “General Bang! You’re badly injured, don’t move. Wagon! I need a wagon!”

“What happened?” Cato whispers out, and the man grabs one of his hands from the snow. “Who are you?”

“It’s Hwang!” the man yells. “Hwang Hyunjin, do you remember?”

Cato wasn't able to respond as his eyes fell heavy and then closed.

When he awakes again, he is in a tent. He shoots up in a panic, looking around the space. A sharp pain shoots through his chest, making him groan and his elbows give out. “Hey, easy,” the same man says as he helps Cato lay back down. Hyunjin. His long black hair is tied up out of his face, a look of relief washing over it as he settles back down in the chair next to Cato’s cot. “You got a pretty nasty gash across your chest. It’s a miracle you didn’t die out there, Chan.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“I mean a dozen other men died from the same wound,” Hyunjin responds. “Your guardian angel is really looking out for you.”

“What happened?”

“Did you hit your head? We’re in a war,” Hyunjin responds, his eyebrows furrowed. “This was the most brutal battle we’ve fought in three years. How hard did you hit your head?”

Chan’s memories of the past couple years flash in Cato’s mind – like a short synopsis of what his vessel has been up to before he took over. Cato realizes that at that moment, Chan was dead. Cato was the sole entity keeping this body alive.

But why?

“Pretty hard, I guess,” Cato chuckles in response. “Does that mean… we won?”

“You bet your ass we did,” a smirk spreads across the male’s mouth. “We lost a lot of good men out there, though. Not looking forward to letting their wives know they’re widows now,” Cato nods his head, his gaze flitting around the ceiling of the medical tent. Hyunjin nudges his arm again, a grin on his face. “Are you gonna go back to y/n?”

A pulse shoots throughout his entire body at the mention of your name, a sinking feeling in his stomach that’s accompanied by the racing of his heart. He only shrugs. “If she’ll have me.”

“I don’t think she’d have anyone else.”

—

The war ends, and the troops all come back home. And Cato finds himself in front of a beautiful castle. Memories of Chan courting you for years flash in his mind. He seemed to have really adored you. Cato feels a twinge in his heart at the thought that Chan will never be able to experience being with you.

But, to Cato, you give him an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Like he already knew you. Like he already knew your body, your soul, like the back of his hand. So, when he visits you after three long years, and you were already taken by another man, his heart shatters. For Chan, and for another unknown reason he doesn’t think he’s ready to explore.

He still walks with you in the garden that day. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I 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. “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.

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