#Knock-knock-knockin' on heaven's door | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

usedpidemo · 1 year

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Knockin on heaven's door (Lee Chaeyeon)

> 5 minutes in heaven with chaeyeon (just something inspired by the knock mv and her being inside a wardrobe) - @idevian

——————

“God dammit.”

The worst thing about college wasn’t the outrageous student debt, nor the mountains of units and classes you needed to juggle. It was the parties.

It was always the parties.

Not a couple of weeks passes by without some wild party hosted by some rich nepo kid. There isn’t really a reason that justifies the occasion except to celebrate for celebration's sake. An excuse to let loose and relax from the stresses of the semester; a reasonable justification—if not for the copious amount of drugs, alcohol, and sex that happens in them. Every scene plays out like a parody, an ironic twist of fate that realizes your worst assumptions and stereotypes of college after graduating high school.

And the worst part is: no one escapes completely unscathed, not even you.

You make one thing clear: you don’t despise parties—you just didn’t want any piece of it. It stands to reason then that you usually take refuge in the many corners of the house, away from the madness and debauchery of it all. Exposure to their degeneracy proves to be near-unavoidable. You’re essentially the designated driver for your friends, who are none the wiser. Often, they’re the first ones in, last ones out. The moment they step foot inside, they basically forget your existence until dawn. They’re insufferable, but you’d otherwise remain a loner without them, for better and for worse.

In a sea of people, someone manages to spot you. It’s not the gaze of a burgeoning romance or friendship; their eyes evidently spell out drunkenness, and their zombie-like motions toward you are about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face. A little push and pull. You suddenly find yourself being escorted to a huge circle that raises immediate red flags. Even the slightest whiff of the room laced with crack triggers your fight or flight impulses. Thankfully, it only takes the simplest and most cliche of excuses to create a path of escape.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

With their impaired judgment, you’ll soon be an afterthought to them—or at worse, a horde of makeshift zombies banging at the door. The bathroom would be too obvious. It was never the destination.

Sneaking around the crowd, you find a door conveniently tucked away from the madness and rush toward your freedom. On the other side lies complete darkness, and if not for a foot teetering on the edge of some hidden stairs, you’d be a dozen steps away from a concussion and several stitches. A hidden basement sealed away from the house, blocking most of the noise.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

As expected, the actual basement is nothing but clutters of dusty boxes and forgotten relics, with a few tiny windows hidden behind the piles. Little light peeks through the otherwise pitch black room, but a bit more exposure runs the risk of your retreat getting exposed. You’d more than happily sit here until you can weasel your way out in the morning, when everyone’s blacked out and completely fucked from party overdose, or when the rich kid’s angry parents find you sleeping on the floor.

You’ve taken overnight shelter in far worse, unforgiving places.

Suddenly, you feel a breath of warm air tickle through your ear and skin. “Guess I’m not the only one stuck tonight.”

It’s a ghoulish whisper that impulsively causes you to drop your phone while opening its flashlight. What little the light reveals is a hint of pale flesh and blonde strands covertly moving like a predator stalking its prey. You feel something on your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine. Clawlike nails thread through your hair, slowly entrapping you beyond escape. Your eyes tilt to the side, only to find the groove of lush dark lips forming a pretty smirk.

All it takes is another whisper. “Boo.”

“Shit!” You flail your arms panickedly, swinging them around like a child with no fighting experience. You hit nothing but air. If not for the darkness concealing you, it would be a humiliating sight, the kind that gets posted and clowned upon on social media.

The figure grabs you by the wrists, stares so sternly it warrants attention. Its tone is just as sharp, too. “Don’t get us caught, goddammit.”

You pause, take a moment to gather yourself, then another to scan the shadowy stature, looking at you now with wary and concern. Peering through the darkness, its eyes glint with a distinct sparkle. It speaks again with a more tempered voice. “You okay now?”

A silence briefly falls. You stare back to familiarize and scan the figure. A moment of clarity comes upon you. “Wait—aren’t you—”

You recognize her face plastered on the accomplishment board, primarily under athletics and sports. It simply couldn’t be anyone else but Lee Chaeyeon, a polarizing figure within the student body. You’ve heard whispers from varying accounts. For some, she’s practically the greatest athlete to ever grace the institution, a generational talent in every department she excels in. To her teachers, she barely shows up to classes because of her athletic commitments, and a peek through the records shows she’s barely holding on in her academic obligations.

At times, she’s felt like a myth, mainly because you’d only hear her from others. You never saw her once in a school uniform. Hell, you only knew she was around because other people claimed to have seen her, but they could have been spreading misinformation.

“What? Chaeryeong?” She raises an eyebrow, puckers her lips, partially confused and mildly annoyed, while lowering your arms before finally letting them go. She knows what you said. “That’s my little sis. She’s a lot cuter than I am. You need to get your eyes checked.”

“No, no.” Blissfully unaware, you’re quick to emphasize your point. “You’re Chaeyeon, head of the dance club and athletics division.”

“No? I’m Chaeryeong, head of the music department,” she says, sarcastic, but now with a playful smile. “No shit, I’m Chaeyeon.”

“I—I never expected to meet you here of all places,” you say, awkwardly smiling and tapping your fingers together nervously.

“I didn’t expect anyone would find this spot.” Chaeyeon turns around, brushing her long blonde locks in an alluring way that leaves you awestruck. Admittedly, it’s a little bit attractive how unabashedly sleazy she looks. Even in her clean pictures, you can tell she hates the idea of looking clean. While everyone else attends these parties at their best, only to come out a complete mess, she clearly recognizes the pointlessness in such vanity. “Great timing, too. I was gonna make a run for it.”

“So, why are you here again?”

“Boredom.” Her reply is almost immediate, flippantly delivered, that it’s convincing. She has better things to do than hang around at random parties. “I just came for the free food.” She chuckles remembering the thought, while her eyes wander around the room, searching for something, anything.

“Just like me, huh,” you respond with blind confidence, as if it’ll give you both a common ground to share, when in reality, she doesn’t care. If anything, she only amuses you because she allowed you to entertain her, and you’re doing about as good of a job as anyone when it comes to catching her attention—a.k.a failing spectacularly.

Chaeyeon turns around and faces you again with a curious, intimidating look. “And what do you know about that?”

Gulp. “About what?”

She tilts her head and doesn't utter another word, as if expecting you to know what she means. You clearly don’t. On her lips is a dour pout, disappointed by your impulsive tongue. None of it makes any sense, and trying to figure her out seems like a fool’s errand.

“Thought so,” is the only thing she ends up saying, and an air of awkward silence falls on you both as she roams around the basement, presumably searching for a passage out. “You wanna be useful?” she suddenly snaps at you, her stare peering through a valley of boxes.

“What do you want me to do?”

“You wanna get out of here or what?” she spits, turning to you, gaze grimacing and tone scathing. Joining her, you both take note of a narrow hatch hidden behind even more dusty packages.

—————

Well, you may have just played the most awkward game of seven minutes in heaven in your life.

The ride home is even more unsettling.

Chaeyeon remains dead silent, comfortably slumped back against the passenger seat of your car, keeping you at arm’s length. Occasionally glancing to your side, you’re driving, focused on the road ahead. The muted sound of radio blaring through the speakers is the only thing that keeps awkward silence from permeating throughout the vehicle.

You can’t get her to show any form of emotion other than apathy.

Wanna have something to eat? Nothing.

Where’s your place? Also nothing.

Where would you like me to drop you off? Still nothing.

Got any friends to meet up with? Again, nothing.

Most people would have given up by now. It’s not a good look, the kind that encourages ostracizing. Patient as you are, though, you still hope she opens up, but whenever your eyes meet, she gives you the coldest shoulder imaginable. She wants nothing to do with you. The way she stares, the tiredness peeking through her brown irises, the slow, detached gaze that examines you before lightly looking away—the very idea of interacting with people poisons her, ruins her, breaks her.

You pull off at a gas station a few blocks away from your apartment. Shutting down the engine, you gently say, “I’m gonna buy a snack. You want anything?”

She slowly turns back in your direction, very disconnected from you she can’t be bothered to look you in the eye. Her lips twist, as if ready to speak her mind, but only air ultimately comes out. As you expected by now.

“Fine,” you follow, deflecting her cold demeanor back at her. “Just wait here, then.”

After stepping out of your car, right as you’re about to enter the shop, you hear a sharp thud sound. Looking back, you find Chaeyeon, also outside, rubbing her arms from the cold air bothering her, trembling nervously.

You call out to her, loud enough to draw anyone’s attention.

“Borrow my jacket?”

She doesn’t pay you any heed.

—————

“I seriously don’t understand you,” you murmur, as if it’ll bring her out of her shell or change anything, if your previous attempts at reaching out to her in a friendly manner are any proof. It’s late at night; you’re both casually staring at your car—the only noteworthy thing in this gas station—and you couldn’t be any more different. You’ve almost emptied your little cup of instant noodles, while she smokes through her dwindling cigarette, blowing smoke in your direction, still purposefully uncaring. The vapor doesn’t make you crack, but her coldness does. “Why did you ask me to drive for you? What’s the point? I don’t know what you want.”

It’s probably not the best time to show even the slightest frustration. Then again, she’s been deliberately dispassionate the entire time. Anyone else would have given up at this point, but there’s an allure to her, you admit, that keeps you interested, and not just because she’s a known name within the student body. Popularity was never the goal, but like everyone else, you simply wanted to know who Lee Chaeyeon is. She’s one of the biggest mysteries within the school; an all-star athlete with a peculiar aura surrounding her. From what you’ve seen so far, it’s not all that remarkable. She's sassy and apathetic, dry, sarcastic humor is her primary weapon, and she dresses like an escort. Perhaps this is all just a mix up, that this isn’t really the Chaeyeon, one of the best athletes to ever grace the university.

If not for the resemblance with her younger sister, the sweet girl from the music club, they couldn’t have been any more different. Are they really from the same family?

“Much better.” She returns her cigar to her mouth, huffs another round, then releases a new wave, thankfully not in your direction this time. Facing you, she looks you right in the eye. It’s different. There’s no apathy behind them, but instead, genuine interest. “I just wanted a free ride outta there.”

“That’s it?” is your reply, confused. Maybe you’re thinking these words through a bit too much, trying to find deeper complexity from a simple answer. You’ve met more complicated characters before, and to a certain degree, you can relate to her.

“Yeah.” Chaeyeon drags another whiff, but intentionally smokes away. “People just suck.”

In a strange, twisted way, she reads through your mind, says something that, quite frankly, leaves you even more in disarray. “Don’t think hard about it.”

Wide-eyed, you try averting your gaze in a poor attempt to feign ignorance. “Think about what?”

“You know,” she says, songful, gives you a rather taunting stare, eyebrows raised, as if expecting you to understand what she’s on about—deep down you know what that is—while flicking the ashes of her cig down on the table. Admittedly, it’s somewhat cute. Smirking, she adds, “Do I have to make it obvious to you, bird brain?”

“Fuck off.”

“There you go.” Chaeyeon leans back, chuckles, takes delight in making you look like the bad guy, that wicked, mocking grin on her lips a few inches wider than before. Only now do you perceive the true predicament; both of you secretly playing mind games, examining each other, trying to get on the other’s nerves until they eventually break. “I guess I win.”

“Win? We’re not playing games.”

“I got you to drop the nice guy act. I won.”

Another huff, another smoke.

“That doesn’t mean much.”

“That’s what every loser says. Remember what I said? People suck.”

“We just met a few hours ago, and you’re telling me I suck?” Your volume grows slightly louder. “After giving you a free ride out of that party?”

“And who got you out of there first? Hmm?” Chaeyeon’s driving you mad, but now for a completely different reason. “Let me make it clear: I knew about the secret passage even if you hadn’t stumbled your way inside that basement. You were just lucky to find me at the right time.”

“Forget about the basement!” You find yourself slowly unraveling, slowly coming undone, your screws on the brink of loosening. She licks her lips, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

It’s sudden, it’s loud, it’s sharp. The words reverberate around the shop resoundingly that in any other setting, it’s what incites a public incident, gets both of you expelled and shamed in school. Maybe just you, knowing there’s a high likelihood of preferential bias the faculty may have for one of their most accomplished pupils. Regardless, you find yourself covering your mouth, as if you’ve just spoken some unspeakable destruction into existence. Even she ends up speechless.

The next moment is even more destructive: Chaeyeon’s lips suddenly cover yours.

—————

“Fuck, that’s good,” mutters Chaeyeon, between a shower of seemingly endless kisses on your lips, shoving you against the wall of the bathroom beside the convenience store. The doors are locked, with not a single soul’s around to interrupt you. Either way, she proves to be too much—too much to fight, with both words and actions, that you quickly give in, much sooner than she expected.

It’s not that you never considered the thought of kissing Chaeyeon—at times, they were a little tempting if not for the fact that she’s a smoker—but rather how delectable her lips are, even with the tainted scent of smoke etched on them. She passionately makes out with you, drives her tongue between yours, drives the wedge that seemingly kept you both apart, and no amount of self-righteous character can bury that want, that craving for affection—and sex.

“You do this with every man you meet?” You forcefully rip yourself from the kiss, only to find your lips dragged back in almost immediately. She knows it’s a futile effort to gain control, something you never had right from the start.

“Fuck no,” she mouths between even more pecks. “Consider yourself incredibly lucky.”

She’s tugging on opposite ends of your shirt, threatening to rip them apart, something you recognize. Even as you continue to make out, with your hands exploring and marking new territory in the form of her divine figure, you make time for her, letting her freely own you by lifting the obstructive clothing over your head before she promptly tosses it aside in return. Her lips gradually slide down and make themselves familiar with you; your neck first, then your collarbones, smiling to herself as she marks each part as hers with her teeth, while creating more friction by palming your bare chest.

“Finally, someone who’s actually hot,” she quietly mouths to herself, though you can hear her loud and clear. You’ve got a response, a retaliation, but you choose to bask in the moment, acknowledge how good she already makes you feel in the form of a light groan.

Her hands slide down the steep hill that is your torso, until they find more difficult fabric. Locking eyes with yours, she works on your pants, keeping you suspended as she figures out how to claim her rightful prize. Behind those brown pupils is a burning lust, a raging flame consuming her from within, eager to take what she wants; it’s not the same cold stare from before.

“How long have you wanted me?” she asks, followed by the gentle whir of your zipper as she slides down your pants and boxers in one swing. Before you can formulate a reply, you suddenly release an airy gasp—your only response—caught unaware by her deft, silky hand pressing on your balls and your raging cock. Her smirk widens, amused and absorbed by your electric reaction.

She continues to fiddle with your cock, giving it one slow, but delicate pump after another, as you fall under her dizzying spell. Forget about the question; the answer is quite clear, based on the stickiness slowly building up between her hand and your cock. Pleasure begins to spike all over your body, and almost single handedly ends you, if not for her other hand keeping you steady against the wall. It’s a little too soon—a little too much for your brain to comprehend.

Her gaze lingers on yours, watching you gradually crumble in real-time; you’re no better than anyone else in this situation. It’s amusing, gets cute, sweet, playful looks that seemingly brighten her day after what seemed to be an absolute disaster. She knows what she’s doing and she loves it. Your hands cling to shoulders, feel the softness of her skin, and it sparks a fire in her eyes, quick to spread and consume.

“Tell me how long you’ve wanted me,” she repeats herself, the bright glint in her eyes and her grin more mischievous than serious. Determined to get the answer out of you, she tightly cups your balls, drawing out a deep groan. “I know you’ve been staring at me since we met.”

She’s not entirely wrong. Even in the darkness of that desolate basement, you knew she was drop-dead gorgeous. It became clear under the pale moonlight that she was even hotter: a black crop that teased the subtlest of cleavage, exposed her toned midriff, and jeans that accentuated her shapely ass. Yes, even when you thought she wasn’t interested, she knew your stare never departed.

“Since always.” Not the best answer; you both literally just encountered each other earlier that night, but it’s the most logical. Not a single girl in college made you hot and heavy like this. Sure, some of them were cute, her sister included, but none of them had that appeal, that love at first sight attraction that Chaeyeon carried.

Her free arm reaches up to the zipper of her shirt, presses her cleavage together a little. There’s amusement on her features watching in your eagerness to watch them slip. She contemplates the thought, painfully stalling the inevitable by a few precious seconds, then she unzips her top down. One side of the sleeve slides down her shoulders, then the other, until only a matching black bra remains.

It promptly joins the other clothes on the opposite end of the bathroom, completely irrelevant.

You and Chaeyeon make quick work of her jeans before you’re quickly drawn together like magnets, feeling each other’s hot, sweaty skin, entangled like a complete puzzle making out against the walls. It’s an intense back and forth, a tug of war as you both desire complete ownership of the other’s body. Each torrid kiss screams of desperation, not intimacy, to be used, to be consumed.

Spacious as the bathroom is, you can’t seem to find common ground. One moment you’ve got her pinned against the furthest stall, the next she has you fastened in another, until you eventually acquaint yourselves with all three cubicles. Both of you know where this is going and where it should lead; you just don’t know how you can get there. There’s plenty of distractions in front of you, mainly Chaeyeon’s perfect naked figure, a leg wrapped around your hip, and the gleam in her eyes wanting and yearning. It’s dangerous; temptation lurks everywhere you look. If not for the arms wrapped around your neck, occasionally dictating that you only look at her lust-filled face between kisses, the rest of her body would earn your worship.

Chaeyeon moans, writhes in your grasp, slowly relinquishing control over to you. From her bottom lip, you slip them down to her neck, and she trembles, clings tighter, feeling weak. Her hands pinch the back of your hair, mouth mumbling airy, faint words. It’s passionate, sinful, and tender—something you never expected with an otherwise rough woman like her.

“God, you’re so hot—” you hiss, gasping as her touch arouses you. “Mmm—”

She suddenly regains composure, stops you a breath away from her chest, then pulls you back toward her face. Another deep kiss. “Enough. I’m not in the mood for love making tonight.”

Regretfully, she removes herself from your clutch, pulling you by the hand instead to lead you to the bathroom sink. Every time she kisses you, her lips smell of alcohol and lipstick, and it never gets old. You wonder if she simply likes kissing or if she’s conveying some kind of message that you somehow have to decipher. She notices the curious expression on your face, lets out this droll laugh that gives off the assumption you’re onto something, when really, she’s as unpredictable as ever.

There’s nothing funny, nor is it supposed to be, but it makes no sense, perfectly in line with her character.

Before the awkwardness looms over you again, she grabs you by the waist, pushes you forward to impale her. Her back arches against the sink, perfectly spaced between her torso and legs. She spins around, flaunts her shapely curves that immediately capture your attention—and your hands. Ignore her steely glare that pierces through your reflection in the mirror; her flesh melts, molds comfortably in your grasp, as if they were tailor made for you.

She grunts, loses control again, but it’s only momentarily. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Even though you’ve seen her look vulnerable, her sharp attitude keeps you on edge, stops you from committing a sinful act. Your cock is in the perfect position to ruin her, break the facade and the space between you, but it’s not a fight worth contending, especially when she follows up with a dagger that almost pierces your heart. “Keep it between my legs.”

You immediately knew what she meant. To be quite honest, it’s a little disappointing. All that preamble, pleasantry, the tease of something more, only to be shot down before it even starts—it’s almost disheartening. Of course, you had no room to complain, not when she’s splayed out in her barest, practically giving you free reign over every other part of her, but something feels—off, incomplete.

Chaeyeon spreads her legs wide, gracious to space your cock right in its center. Her cunt is on full display, ripe and ready to be used, to be fucked. Unfortunately, you won’t get to have any piece of it without her word. It’s near-impossible to look away, spellbinding you with an unforgettable mental image. The thought of—or the lack thereof—filling her pussy torments you. Even as her smooth, perfect thighs sandwich your cock, the notion poisons your mind, leaves you wandering and aimless, until the perfect amount of friction strikes and—

“Fuck.”

It’s smooth, suffocating, devastating. Now you truly have nothing to whine about, except to whine about how tight her legs feel around your cock, rubbing and stroking yourself between her thick thighs. Barely hanging on, you press your hands on her shoulders, losing yourself in the pleasure quickly. Thanks to the little flecks of precum from before, sliding between her heat proves to be much easier.

Slowly but surely, you grow accustomed to her asphyxiating warmth, unable to process anything beyond the slickness and powerful sensations around her flesh. Eyes closed, you moan in prolonged, deep spurts, resting your head beside hers. Her feelings don’t matter at this moment, only yours. You don’t realize her hand is gripped to your thigh, only that it amplifies the surge of pleasure coursing throughout your body. A possible reminder to keep your cock away from her cunt, but you didn’t need it anymore—her thighs are more than enough.

“Yeah. Fucking enjoy it, horny bitch.” Chaeyeon’s tone and expression seemingly derives no enjoyment from watching you lose it, as if it’s only an obligation and not something both of you share pleasure in. She moans, but it’s faint and weak. “That feels good, right?”

“It does,” you blurt, trapped in the heavenly bliss between her legs, loving every little motion. “So good, Chaen, holy fuck—”

She sees you visibly struggling and helplessly trying to gather air, smiles and laughs at your predicament. It’s a mess; it’s her schadenfreude. Delightful, she thinks to herself, now playing along with her lewd expressions plastered on the mirror. Unconvincing, if not a bit too much leaning towards parody. She’s waiting for the opportunity to get the edge over you, the killing blow.

Tightening her grip around your cock, her toned legs collapse, and you can feel the fire in your loins gradually building and hurling toward a calamitous explosion. There’s nothing you can do to stop—not that you ever want to, watching your cock slide in and out her thighs at a perfect rhythm is its own reward—only praying that the moment lingers a bit longer. You’ve got both hands pinched to her taut nipples, thankfully unresisted, kissing around her collarbone and ear, trying in vain to stifle the endless string of curses and moans leaving your lips.

It doesn’t help that her voice is seductive, downright merciless, repeatedly goading you into submission, staring at your reflection expectantly. “That’s it. Cum for me, bitch. You won’t ever get this kind of opportunity with anyone else but with me. No one else will ever make you feel this good. Just cum, and cum, and cum—”

The word rings in your head, hypnotic, borderline leaning toward brainwashing. It isn’t gaslighting when she has a point; she feels so fucking incredible, so tight and hot and suffocating—no one else can possibly compare. Then again, ecstasy is the only thing running through your head, clouding your better judgment. You’ve got a hand digging through her endless sea of blonde locks, pumping between her thighs, each thrust sorer than the last, like you’ll regret the action in the morning.

“I’m so close, Chaen. I’m going to cum,” you say desperately.

There’s that familiar twinkle in her eyes, and a mischievous grin forming on her lips. Troubling. “Say it.”

“Say what?” you say, your cock aching painfully between her wet, toned thighs.

“Please.”

“Please!” you shout, teetering dangerously close to the edge, threatens you and Chaeyeon. Again, slowing down proves to be impossible. You’re so far gone.

“Please what?”

“Please let me cum! Please let me cum, Chaen, oh God.”

“That’s it. Cum—”

As soon as she lets that word out, the lights immediately turn green. Releasing all your inhibitions, your eyes widen, pumping your cock hurling to that oh-so deserved orgasm between her legs. Her thighs receive every last shot, every single drop. You both moan into each other’s ear, with Chaeyeon finding comfort and satisfaction from feeling the warmth you’ve given her.

She throws her head back, cranes her neck, brushes a hand around your hair while you pump through your climax. Eventually, your cock slips, winds down to a complete halt. You find your lips returning to her collarbones, taking solace on her sensitive flesh as you remain intimately attached together for a little while longer.

“Shit.” You look down, past the curves of her chest, see the puddles and drops of slick on the floor. She mirrors your gesture, checks the damage between her legs, and it’s a disaster: her thighs are dripping with cum down to her feet, with two noticeable blots parallel to the other.

“So needy.” Chaeyeon says with a laugh, caressing your cheek, her voice a temptation in your ear, goading you for more. “Not lucky with the ladies, hmm?”

Wistfully, you reply, “Yeah.”

Chaeyeon slowly releases your chin from her hand, slips from your clutch to grab a stream of tissue rolls to clean herself up. You cling to the sink with wobbly legs, staring down at the basin, overcome by a wave of both regret and exhaustion. Unwelcome thoughts creep in. A lack of protection, a return of her dour persona, and your reputations at stake—you’ll entertain them all in the morning, when the honeymoon period ends.

When you look up, you see Chaeyeon in the mirror, almost finished dressing up, fixing her cleavage before zipping up her crop top. She stares back, grinning. “You know you still have to drive me home. So when you’re done pining over not cumming in my pussy—”

“Where? Where's home?”

“Yours.”

—————

(A/N: Finally got to one of the four selected requests! I'm sorry this one took a lot longer than expected, but what can you expect from me XD I still have PCD as I write this down and no amount of copium can help me recover haha. I loved the request as it gave me the perfect excuse to write Chaeyeon again; she's an underrated hottie and I'm glad she (1) quit Queendom Puzzle instead of pushing through and (2) Knock became a surprise hit. It's only a matter of time before her star rises even further. Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #chaeyeon #lee chaeyeon

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seas-storyarchive · 7 months

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Mama Smiles And Smiles Junior - Swap au/What If part 2 (continued from Demon Mother, Angel Son)

[[MORE]]

Alastor finished fighting with his hair, smiling at his reflection. His caramel colored skin complimented his freshly pressed red suit. Now, in heaven, after so long, he'd been getting used to mirrors. The large clock at the top of the tower in the town square, oddly old timey and comforting, stuck the top of the hour.

Time to start the show.

"Alastor! Dere you are, love!" It was his spindly, spider friend Molly. In a group with herself, her mother, another woman, a cat angel, as well as a former exterminator who had been wounded prior to the most recent extermination, and their more saintly escorts; Emily and Sir Pentious.

"Apologies, everyone. I was purchasing some flowers for my Maman." He said, showing them a bouquet of red roses.

"Oh, how gorgeous!" Said Molly's mother, happily.

"Thank you, Mrs. Kathy, ma'am." He said, addressing her as always.

A sniff brought their attention to Sir Pentious, who was wiping his eye. "The love you share for your mother, it's so beautiful."

Alastor smiled at them. "Stop, I'm blushin'!"

Emily cleared her throat. "Come on, guys. We don't want to be late." The young seraphim lead the way into the building.

Down in Hell.

Angel was toying with his tie, wearing a suit - he wanted to look somewhat recognizable to his visitors, but he did wear heels. "Where da fuq are dey!"

"Easy, angel. They'll be here soon." Charlie said to the spider, ever the optimist.

"Yeah kid," Husk said with a smile, "they'll be here, heaven time." He chuckled at his joke.

"Yeah, they'll-" Vaggie was cut off by a knock pattern on the front door. "What the..?"

"That must be them!" Charlie rushed to the door, and when she reached it, she heard a conversation.

"-cut, and shave? Seriously, what da fuq, Alastor?"

"Well, pardo' me fo' makin' sure dat dey hear mah knockin', Miss Molly." It was then followed up with a slapping sound, "an' mah Maman raised me to no hit a lady, even if she don' stuc' firs', so I'ma hav' to ask tha' yo' don't do dat again. Don' want a bruise on mah her' face when Ah meet Maman again. No ma'am. Dat jus' won' do."

"Guys, come in, stop." Emily cut in, as the door opened.

The group was met with Charlie staring back at them, and Charlie was met with Emily looking at her with a nervous smile as off to her left, Sir Pentious had his hands on Alastor's shoulders while one spider woman who looked like angel was being held back by another, older spider woman. A cat and an exorcist looking angel were watching them and placing bets.

Charlie gasped loudly, catching everyone's attention.

"You all look so perfect!"

"Charlie!" Pentious abandoned the one sided scuffle to slither over and hug Charlie, who hugged him back.

"How are you? Oh, Emily! Hi!" The two hugged.

"Thank you for having us! I know this wasn't easy for you, all things considered." Emily said.

"Yesss. The hotel lookssss bigger than lassst I ssssaw it." Pentious said, nodding to Emily.

"Where are my manners, come in! Come in!" Charlie invited them in.

There was a moment where Alastor stopped Pentious and the other cat, one could just barely hear him say, "now fellas, we let dem dere ladies go firs', ya he'r, amis?"

Someone, the cat apparently, curtly asked, "can we fix his staff? Some people might have a hard time hearing him-"

"Oh, non ami. Ah lef' mah staff a' h'me. It wouldn'a worke' down her' non' anaway. Wha' wit' all dese fancy citah ligh's an' dose tel'o-visions." Alastor said, before letting the men go first before him. Entering last, he further explain. "Asides, Ah miss'd speakin' in mah Louisiana drawl. Is wha' mah Maman don' rais'd me wit' afta all."

The first sight they saw was Molly and Kathy hugging another spider male. their cat friend Tex moved to speak with another cat whose fur was primarily black and white instead of pale brown and white. Sir Pentious started sobbing as he saw a little egg creature, who was sobbing his heart out while running to the snake, who held the little egg close and saying soft words to it in comfort.

Their former exterminator was talking to Vaggie, both seemed to be engaged in a conversation with a lot of pauses. The other woman they brought with them, Yoko, was hugging a small cyclops - hmm, this must have been her "niffy daughter Naomi". Charlie and a short blonde man were speaking with Emily at the base of the stairs, as to what it was, Alastor knew not.

Hm.. that just left-

"Bonjour, mon petite bebe."

Aastor spun around so quickly that he lost traction and fell (thankfully the flowers were unharmed, not even losing a petal) on to his side on the carpet. Hmm, that's an interesting feeling..

"Oh! Mon cher, you alrigh'?" Lenora immediately went from a smile to concern as she helped her son sit up.

"Oui, Maman." Alastor said, quickly standing up to hug his mother without care. And the water works started.

"Oh, oh mom bebe! I've miss'd you! Oh so much!" Lenora held her son close, feeling her makeup running but she didn't care. Her baby was here! Oh, oh bless those who made this happen.

"Ne pleure pas, maman. Tout va bien maintenant. Nous allons bien." Alastor said those words often in life, and so he spoke them again when reuniting in death.

"Je sais, ma chérie. Tout va bien. Tout va bien." Words she had always said, again in life, were repeated in death.

After the two finished crying together for the first time in decades, they pulled apart. Lenora taking Alastor's face in her hands.

"Still such'a handsom' man." Lenora said, looking his face over.

"Maman.." Alastor rolled his eyes, smiling. He seemed to get his wits about him, and moved the roses up so she could take them, her having already seem them. "Ah bough' dese fo' you, Maman. Ah don' 'membered how much you don' liked ma'am Anita's ros' b'sh ou' pas' da bayo' afore da roa' ta town."

"Oh, th'nk you, mon cherie bebe." Lenora took the roses, and disappeared in shadow for a moment - something no one told her son she could do.

"Wha' 'as dat dere tric' she don' us'd?" Alastor looked to the others, gesturing to where his mother vanished.

"Oh, you poor, sweet river baby." Lucifer said, comparing Alastor's naivety to that of Jesus as his half brother had been coming up.

"Oh! I forgot! Um, Alastor, this is my dad. Dad, this is Alastor, the radio angel." Charlie ushered her dad forwards to meet her friend.

"Hello." Lucifer greeted, offering a hand. "Lucifer, King of all you see before you."

"Hmm.." Alastor, who's mother raised him to be polite and shake hands properly with the rich white folk as he did now, also had been raised in the same vain to be very blunt "Yo' don' lookin' differen', fro' da gl'mpse Ah'd don' se' in mah Pap's eyes when he don' be beatin' on me an' Maman."

Everyone got quiet. Did this dumb fuck of an angel know who he'd just spoken to like that?

"I.. I'm sorry about.. I mean.." Lucifer was unsure of what to say, pulling his hand away as though Alastor had burned him.

"Don' be mindin' 'im, sir. Mah boy 'as alw'ys be'na sens'tive so'l." Lenora said, appearing beside Alastor. "Is no wonda 'e wen' on up dose st'irs."

Alastor frowned at Lucifer, before being pulled aside by Sir Pentious to change the subject and introduce his cute, wee egg that he hated himself for leaving behind.

"So, you must be Alastor," began Angel as he walked over to the pair. "My name's Angel, though if yous know Molls an' Ma dhen you'd prolly heard my real name Anthony."

"Ah, so yo' don' be da fella dat dese her' ladi's be talkin' 'bout." He extended a hand to Angel with a wide smile like that of his mother. "Da ple'sure do be all'a min', sir. It do be min'."

Angel shook his hand, surprised at the thin man's strong handshake. "Uh, no need ta stand on formalities here, Smiles Junior."

"If'n ya'll be sayin' so." Alastor said, looking to see Tex teasing the other cat about something with Molly. "Ah hop' yo' do be pardonin' me, Angel sir. Ah wan'a see what dat dere h'llabaloo-in' be about dere."

Angel let him go, chuckling to himself, "what a freak."

Well, skipping ahead to the usual evening shenanigans:

Alastor and Lenora took over the kitchen before anyone could stop them.

The sounds of laughter, talking and jazz, as well as dishes being moved and the occasional sounds of water being ran were heard.

"What da fuq are they cooking? That smells so fuckin' good!" Angel said, turned around in his seat to look at the kitchen doors.

"Anthony Ricardo Alvarez! That ain't no way to sit in a chair!" His mother scolded him.

"Knowing thossse two, it'sss probably sssssomething overfilling with love." Sir Pentious said, ever the sap.

"Well, as long as Lenora keeps her cannibalism in check-" Charlie said, only to be cut off.

"Maman, je t'aime. Mais, bien sûr, comme je suis en enfer pour le moment, nous n'ajouterons pas ces pécheurs à ce plat ! Non madame!"

"I ain't sure what dhose two said, but I don't dink dat went over well.." Angel said, only to hear another bit of the conversation.

"Mais chérie, c'est une bonne source de protéines! Et de toute façon, vous avez besoin de plus de viande sur les os!"

"Ne m'oblige pas à t'interdire l'accès à cette cuisine! Je le ferai. Vous savez que je le ferai!"

"Oof! I've heard him say that before." Molly said, smiling.

"What'd he say?" Angel asked his sister.

"Told his mother he'd ban her from the kitchen. Told me that, as well as Mr. British Cornsnake over there." Molly pointed to Sir Pentious, who had been speaking with Cherri.

Angel snorted. "Of course he's British. Makes sense as to why a Louisianan would ban him."

"Pardon?"Sir Pentious asked, now looking over.

"Look, yous culture ain't exactly known ta be the most flavorful around da time us," he gestured to himself and Molly, "and probably Smiles Junior was comin' up. And, from how Mama Smiles cooks, I see it really."

As the snake mulled that over for a few minutes, in walked Alastor and Lenora - Alastor carrying a large pot and Lenora having another pot with a tray of fresh biscuits atop it.

"Oh ho! We get the good shit!" Angel said excitedly, seeing the pot - jambalaya with extra shrimp, rice off in another pot and handmade biscuits.. Angel could die happy tonight.

The night was full of jokes and playful jabs over a lovely dinner. Tomorrow, everyone would say their goodbyes. But, for the night, happiness and laughter filled everyone's hearts for the first time in a while.

#part 2 of au #hazbin hotel au #hazbin hotel #demon mother angel son au #alastor altruist #alastor au #angel alastor au

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