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christronomy · 1 month

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the angel's wings flutter slightly as shivers go down his spine, and he let's out a shaky breath. "we shouldn't be doing this..." is what he was about to say, but his breath hitches in his throat when you lean in to kiss his neck, the light pressure of your soft lips against his skin making him bite his lip and lean his head back subconsciously, providing some more room for you to kiss. his skin wasn't like a human's, in the sense that it was extremely clear, almost textureless, like porcelain, and soft like silk. it was also extremely warm and radiant, like he had been doused in a pool of light.

you'd always wondered what it would be like to touch him like this for as long as you can remember, and even now that you're finally doing it, it feels completely unreal. it doesn't feel wrong in this moment, but it also doesn't feel like it should even be possible to begin with. how someone like you, ended up with your hands on an angel—a holy entity, of all things... the odds really were in your favor. if this was a dream, you really didn't want to wake up.

he wasn't even trying to stop you as your hands trailed over his clothed body aimlessly, feeling the firmness in the muscles on his arms, on his abdomen, his thighs... even through the thick fabric of his tunic, you could tell his body was very well toned, and it made you ache for him even more.

you let your hands roave his body, pressing soft kisses against his collarbone until you reached his lips, perfectly plump and soft, like a cloud. like he was made of pieces of heaven. his tongue was already prodding at yours, wanting to taste you, and the more you touched and kissed him, the more he wanted. it was extremely dangerous for a being like him to do something like this, but it's you, and he's already so deeply in love... so maybe it's okay just this once, right?

he's so caught up his thoughts that he suddenly flinches, almost pulling away from you completely when he feels your hands trail up his back and touch the base of his wings.

hyunjin's wings are extremely sensitive to human touch, and you'd completely forgotten how much of a huge pet peeve it is for him when people attempted to touch them without his permission. you learned this in one of your earliest encounters, when he snuck into your room in the middle of the night again, the sound of the window opening startling you awake. it was the first night you realized his visits would become more frequent.

"jinnie?" you whine groggily, to which he lets out a soft chuckle as he sits on the edge of your bed, folding his large wings behind his back. your room always seemed a little brighter when he was in it, it's like he has a natural glow to his pretty pale skin. "hey you," he says softly, pinching your cheek affectionately when you scoot up to sit next to him.

"what brings you here at this time?" you ask, and he shrugs, smiling at you, his feathers fluttering a little as he does so. "it's just been a while," he says simply, leaning his head on your shoulder and unfolding one of his wings, wrapping it around you. it was a habit he'd picked up not too long after he met you, which was surprising to him, considering the fact that he never really liked physical touch all too much. being an angel who's job was to interact with humans eventually made you hate being touched, since for some reason humans always got handsy during encounters.

"it has..." you say, yawning a little as you lean into him, absentmindedly moving your hand up to play with his hair. the way it looks like it's made of pure gold has always intrigued you, and he secretly liked it when you ran your fingers through it for the first time, although it kind of annoyed him at first, since you did it without asking. but he understood that it was because you were curious. he'll only allow it if it's you, and you know that now, because he didn't pull away or jolt at your touch this time around.

but his wings were a different story. you'd noticed a stray feather that was clinging onto the wing he had draped over your shoulders, and didn't think about it before you reached out to brush it off, a soft gasp escaping your lips when he suddenly yanked it away from you, grumbling a harsh "don't...!"

you'd apologized and he was okay with it, but he was hesitant to even unfold his wings around you after that night. he recalled how scared you looked at first to even touch him after the way he'd chastised you so harshly for doing so, and he felt horrible for it, but now that this newfound desire between the two of you was rising a little more with every passing moment, the way you were kissing him made him feel things in his body he'd never felt before, and that meant that touching his wings made that feeling ten times harder to manage.

but now, he realized this time he didn't almost pull away because the sensation bothered him, it was because these new things he was feeling made them so sensitive to the touch, he almost let out a soft moan when your hand caressed his feathers. you opted for keeping your hand on the small of his back for now, your other hand trailing down to feel his thighs, tentatively inching upwards, and you let out a soft, shaky breath when you feel the bulge under the thick frabric of his tunic.

the way hyunjin is looking at you now is so full of danger. you're not even sure if this is right or wrong. your mind is too clouded from this intense desire you're experiencing to even think straight, but he hasn't stopped you, and you're too far into this to even want turn back now, but by the way he's looking at you, you can tell that he doesn't want you to either. it's almost as if he can feel the divine essence draining away from his body, being consumed by lust, dimming the light in his eyes but he can't resist you.

before he can even process what's really happening, he's got you pinned to your bed, one hand pressing against your lower abdomen, the other gripping your thigh tightly as his tongue teases you relentlessly, skillfully. it's as though he's done this before, like he already knows your body to a T. your moans are like music to his ears, and he knows what real music sounds like. he's an angel, for fucks sake—he knows what a real choir of angels singing sounds like, and it's nothing like anything in this world. but even then, your moans, the way his name drips off of your lips, sweet as honey, sounds so much better. the way you're tugging at his golden locks, pulling him impossibly closer is so much better than he could have imagined.

now he's inside of you, after having made you come on his tongue twice, and you're so sensitive you can't help the way your walls tremble and clench around him when he finally bottoms out. you feel divine. he's not sure if he'll ever be able to recover from this, although he knows he's too far gone now. his creator is surely not going to be happy when he confesses, although a certain part of him wonders if he'll have at least a little bit of mercy. love is a dangerous thing when there's too much of it, but love is also what makes up the very essense of him. surely the Creator should understand that, right?

you on the other hand, still can't believe this is even real, it's like you're living a dream within a dream. you can't help the way your hands instinctively move to touch the base of his wings when he gives you that first thrust, his cock kissing that gummy spot inside of you immediately. the sensation of your hands caressing the most sensitive part of him paired with your warmth gripping him so tightly have his head swimming in pleasure, and he can't help the sharp hiss that escapes him. he has to come inside you, claim you as his own, even if it costs him his entire existence.

"hey, jinnie... i'm curious. is being in heaven better than being here, on earth?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper as you cuddle closer to him, nuzzling your cheek against his bare chest. he nods, even though you can't really see his face. "i guess i can say it is better, in a way, because we're limitless up there. there's no pain or sickness... but if i had to choose, i'd say that this, being here with you..." he starts, staring up at the ceiling as he trails off, his fingers playing with your hair absentmindedly. some part of him is begging his god, his creator for mercy, forgiveness, and the other part of him could really give less of a fuck. you're the love of his life, but also the very thing that is going to make him lose everything, and probably end up turning him into something ugly. a monster... a demon. the very thing he'd feared his entire life. but he knows now that even if the whole world is against him, even if a god rejects him, you will still love him, regardless of what he becomes.

"this feels so much better. a thousand times better. everything is better with you, my muse."

#hey chat...... *speaking to an empty room*#just logged in to write this bc the voices told me i had to #no thoughts head empty just angel hyunjin in my brain #i lowkey forgot how to write sorry if this is a little cringe or whatever #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids hard thoughts #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #stray kids hard hours #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #hyunjin hard hours #hwang hyunjin fluff #hyunjin fluff #kpop smut #solieverse: planet reverie

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itsbeeble · 10 months

Note

I saw your post about having Bang Chan brain rot and honestly, same. He has filled every waking thought I've had for the last year and I'm big mad over it.

So my fic rec is a little angsty/suggestive with him being as obsessed with y/n as we all are with him. Like, he's angry that he can't focus on work because he's too busy thinking about them but can't have them for whatever reason. All the features he possesses that we love that he can't see in himself are exactly what draws him to y/n. (I feel like crushing on Chan is an exercise in learning to love yourself, and that's a lesson he needs to learn as well).

WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO ME I LITERALLY FELL TO THE FLOOR WHEN I FIRST SAW IT (that first statement is so real actually)

OBSESSIVE

Summary: Chan has always been obsessed with you, but he's been too afraid to act on it until now.

Genre: Angst, fluff

Pairing: bestfriend!Bang Chan x (implied)fem!reader

Warnings: a little angsty but mostly fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive, some uhhh sexual themes but there's no actual smut or anything, small make out scene teehee, swearing, insecurities briefly mentioned, I think that's it

WC: 2462

18+ MDNI, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

A/N: guys look it didn't take me 10 years to post! Also i'm gonna add to my masterlist a "Brainrot" section bc i'm not officially gonna write for certain groups but fuck do i get brainrot

Chan is restless in his studio, staring at the walls in front of him unable to focus. He can’t get his brain to work, to think, to do something.

It’s your fault. He knows it’s your fault, but he can’t figure out why. Had you said something to him? Had you done something?

No. The answer is no, you hadn’t done anything to him. At least not technically.

In fact, it’s more him that's the problem.

It’s almost unhealthy the way he’s obsessed with you. Unhealthy and almost annoying considering that you hardly ever give him the light of day.

Chan adores you. Adores the way you don’t care about what anyone else thinks of you, the way you laugh too loudly, the way your nose crinkles when you smile, and the way you can hold conversations so easily. He adores the way you never seem to care about looking put together, dressing in whatever you find comfortable that day, and somehow still looking beautiful.

He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way about anyone before. He hates the swirling in his stomach, the way his heart beats faster, and the way he can always tell when you’re close to him whether you want him to know or not. Chan can always tell from the smell of your perfume, that sweet, subtle scent you’ve worn since the day you met him in your days as trainees.

These emotions…he shouldn’t be feeling them. Not about you, his best friend. His confidant. The one person he can trust to always be there for him, for everything. He’s tried so hard to will these emotions away, to force himself to like other people. He’s tried hookups, blind dates, dating apps. He’s tried imagining it was his grandmother instead of you whenever his thoughts dive into dangerous territory.

And no, the grandmother thoughts didn’t work. His thoughts kept returning to you, how you would look under him. How you would look with your hair splayed out, your hand cupping his cheeks, and your lips sending him the sweet smile that you seem to reserve for him.

Fuck, he’s doing it again.

Chan takes a deep breath, sipping at the day-old water and grimacing at the stale taste in his mouth. His computer screen is still blank, the screen off from the time he’s spent staring into space and thinking of you.

A knock on the door and then you’re slipping in quietly with a plastic go-cup filled with iced coffee.

“Hey.”

Your greeting is simple, but you flash that smile and Chan’s heart starts doing flips. He hates it. He hates that you make him feel this way, hates that he gets nervous whenever you’re around.

He feels you at his side, your arm on the back of his chair, fingertips brushing against his shoulder and sending jolts of electricity down his spine. He turns his head, angling his neck to look up at you.

You with your calm eyes, with your gentle brushes against his skin, and the way you somehow soothe the storm that you caused inside of him.

The cup in your hand is angled toward him, and he shakes his head.

“You shouldn’t be drinking that, you know,” it’s almost instinctive how he scolds you, a frown on his face when you just roll your eyes and pull the cup away from him. “Especially right now. You should be asleep, Y/N.”

“So should you,” you hum, rolling your shoulders back and wincing when something cracks.

“I’m working.” He nods his head at the computer, and you raise an eyebrow at the black screen.

“I can see that. Working very hard, just like you always are.”

Your hand raises to his head, ruffling the soft strands of hair. Chan clicks his tongue and pulls away from you. Your hand drops down to your side, and your small drops slightly. Barely noticeable, but enough for Chan to feel a pang in his chest. He rolls his chair back slightly, spinning it to face you. You pull a chair up, sitting directly across from him, and delicately place your coffee in an empty space on his crowded desk.

Chan feels your knees brush against his, and heat scorches his body again. Why do you do this to him? Is it on purpose? Do you know he loves you more than a best friend should?

“Are you okay, Channie?” You lean toward him, the open part of your button-down shirt dipping to expose more skin. You would think he’s never been around a woman before.

He clears his throat, tries to look at you, and then clears his throat again. You’re biting at your lip now your eyebrows furrowed together in thought.

He leans away from you when you lean toward him. Your knees are between his thighs now, unbeknownst to you but he is all too aware of it. You rise from your chair, coming closer to him and standing between his legs. One of his hands twitches, fighting to raise just a little bit to touch the side of your leg.

“You seem a little feverish,” your hand is cold against his skin, and he almost chokes on the air he’d been struggling to inhale without the sweet scent of you overpowering his lungs and making him do unthinkable things. Your lips are twisted into a pout, your hand moving to his forehead and then his cheek.

It takes Chan a moment to realize that he’s grabbed your wrist.

It takes another moment for him to realize that his lips are against the back of your hand.

Another moment and you haven’t pushed him away. Is it shock? Are you too disgusted to do anything? Fuck, why did he have to do that?

“Y/N—” he’s stumbling over his words, trying to grasp any thought that runs through his brain. An apology, hopefully. “I’m so— I didn’t mean—”

Your lips are on his before he can say another word. It was a quick, fleeting kiss. Heat of the moment, maybe.

You pull back, just far enough to look him in the eyes.

Chan opens his mouth, ready to speak again.

The door slams shut. The space you stood in is empty. Chan’s heart sinks to his stomach, his skin still warm where you touched him.

“Fuck”

It’s three days before Chan hears from or sees you. Three days of absolute radio silence. No one forcing him to stop working, to look away from the screen and lay on the couch for a while. No wild laughter, random coffee dates. Nothing, and he knows why.

He knows you’ve been avoiding him. It’s not that difficult to figure it out. Whatever happened that night…it scared both of you. What frustrates him isn’t the subtle rejection. No, he could never be mad at you for that. He loves you too much to be angry about that.

No, he’s mad about the fact that you’re running from this. You who regularly gets into heated arguments with the staff when they’re working him and the other members too hard. You who always accepts when you’re in the wrong, actively seeking a solution. You who has never had problems with communicating your emotions. He’s angry that the one time he needs you to communicate with him, you disappear. Now, after three days of you avoiding him, he isn’t quite sure he wants to see you anymore. He wouldn’t have minded if you told him you hated him for what happened.

Radio silence is…quite possibly the last thing he expected.

A knock on his door jolts him out of his thoughts. Three raps, then two, and the door opens. He knows it’s you by the shuffling of your feet against the ground and the sound of ice against plastic. You come to stand near him. Not next to him, no, it’s like you can sense the anger in him.

Or you can hear the angry typing.

“What are you working on?” Your voice is quiet, so quiet that he almost doesn’t catch it.

He doesn’t respond, at least not at first. The typing doesn’t slow, and he hears a small exhale from you.

“Chan?” Your hand comes to rest on his shoulder and the typing stops. You drop your hand to your side, biting your tongue and forcing the tears back. “Channie, can you please talk to me?” He turns to look at you, trying to hold back all of the emotions he’s been feeling these past three days.

“About what?” He plays dumb. Maybe if he acts like nothing happened, you’ll just drop it and you can start avoiding each other and he can move on from you.

“About…about what happened.” Your voice shakes, and he almost feels bad.

Scratch that, he does feel bad.

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about.” Chan dismisses, “You made it clear how you feel and that’s fine. We can forget about it.” He avoids your gaze now, but he hears a sniffle coming from you. Hears a sob that you made a poor attempt at concealing. He looks at you again, and your hand is over your mouth while you try to calm yourself. He bites the side of his tongue, closing his eyes and exhaling heavily.

“Come here,” he raises his hand and lazily beckons you over to him. You don’t move at first, still focused on calming yourself. “Y/N, come here.”

Your steps are slow, almost nervous about approaching him, and suddenly all the anger is washed away from Chan’s body. All he can think about is the fact that he’s made you cry, made you upset, and he wants to fix it.

“Why are you crying, pretty?” You’re standing in front of him, all too similarly to three days ago. Your cup has been placed to the side again, next to his keyboard, and your hands are in his.

“I feel like…” your voice is thick with emotion, tears rolling down your cheeks that Chan wants nothing more than to kiss away. “I feel like I messed everything up.”

“How could you possibly think that?” Your best friend frowns.

“I— I kissed you.” Your sentences are stuttered. “I fe—feel like I me—messed everyth—everything up. You— You’re my bes—best friend, Channie.”

“Look at me,” he holds his hand to your chin, tilting your head to look down at him. “You did nothing wrong. In case you forgot, I kissed you first.”

“But that was diffe—different!” You cry, yanking your hands out of his grip and turning your back on him. Chan rises from his chair, carefully watching your movements. “I kissed you!”

He’s curious now. “Do you think I hate you because of that?”

You turn around, and a gasp escapes you. He’s only a few inches from you, his breath kissing your cheeks. You can see a dark tinge on his tanned skin. Was he blushing? Was he mad?

“I— I mean—” Chan steps toward you again, practically backing you into the wall.

“Because you’d be wrong,” he continues. “In fact, it’s probably made me even worse.”

What? “Chan— what does that—”

“I’ve been obsessed with you from the day that I met you, Y/N.” Here goes nothing. Chan takes a deep breath before continuing. “Everything you do, everything you say. I’m addicted to you. You know, I couldn’t tell at first if I envied you. It was the way you carried yourself, the confidence you had in every little thing. The way you fought so hard for the things that you loved and the people you cared about. I thought I envied the way you could laugh as loud as you wanted without fearing what other people thought of you.”

You’re against the wall now, but he hasn’t caged you in. No, he leaves you room to escape should you so choose. Your tears have stopped and Chan reaches up to cup your cheeks, wiping away the streaks that were left.

“I was wrong.” His voice is so quiet, so much quieter than he probably intended it to be, but it has a zoo erupting in your stomach. “It wasn’t envy.”

“Then what was it?” Your voice matches his in volume, your eyes flicking from his lips and back up to meet his gaze. He takes a deep breath, relishing in the feeling of your cold hands twisting into the fabric of his shirt, your knuckles brushing against the skin of his stomach. “Channie?”

The way you said his name should’ve been innocent. It should have just grabbed his attention, snapped him out of the spell you’ve cast on him.

The air is knocked out of your chest at the first touch of his lips on yours. It isn’t rough, not by any means.

His lips move smoothly against yours, slow and sure of every move he wants to make as if he’s always going to be two steps ahead of you. One of his hands slides down to cup the back of your head, right at the base to allow him to angle your head and pull your body closer to his. Your hands have tightened into his cotton t-shirt, holding so tightly you’re positive the fabric has stretched.

Your chest is on fire, whether from lack of breath or the emotions running through you like wildfire, you aren’t sure, but you don’t want to stop. You can’t stop. Not when he tastes so good, not when he’s kissing you like there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing.

A whine escapes you, and you feel his body go rigid. His lips stop moving, and he pulls back from you. You see his chest stuttering as he tries to stop himself from taking deep breaths. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you for a long time.

You don’t have to, though. The drawings he traces into your hip with his finger and the hazy, starstruck look in his eye says enough.

His eyes meet yours when you clear your throat to get his attention.

“So,” your voice is slightly hoarse but you can’t find yourself caring. Not in front of Chan. “You never answered my question.” He bends down, his lips lightly pressing into the skin of your neck. Your breathing hitches, and you feel him smile against you.

“What question was that?” He asks, and his voice is right in your ear, and you can’t help but pull him closer to you.

“What was it that you felt?”

He just laughs against you, finally taking his hand out of your hair.

“You know what it was, pretty. Don’t pretend.”

You smile, your arm coming to wrap around the back of his neck.

Love. It was love, and you knew it the whole time.