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nichuuu · 1 year ago

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Beats Me - 6: Come As You Are

Word count: 8k+

Of course, there’s a chance to turn away from all of this—a chance to stop her hand as it reaches the base of your shaft, a chance to halt her in the midst of tiptoeing to place a peck on your neck; there’s a clear opportunity for you to end what’s happening right here and now—it’s all a matter of how willing you are to go through with this. While your brain screams at you to stop, your body says otherwise; you lift a hand to cup her cheek.

As you tell her, “Just for tonight,” a wisp of a smile appears on her face, and you wonder, What am I doing.

---------

A call from Kim Minju at this hour is never good news.

To give context: It’s one in the morning on a Saturday. Office workers and the youth above the legal age for drinking are patronising drinking spots, throwing back a couple of beers and basking in the euphoria that alcohol brings them. Perhaps they're using alcohol to cope with the stress of their lives, or maybe they're trying to numb the pain of recent difficult experiences. In both cases, emotions are running high, alcohol is coursing through their systems, memories are resurfacing, and maybe, just maybe, tears are streaming down their cheeks—nothing too out of the ordinary. If you were to receive a call from anyone else at this hour, you would've thought it a request to be escorted back home, or a soused friend dialling in to say incomprehensible things before truncating the call.

But for more context: Kim Minju has been the bearer of bad news since highschool. If you are to combine this with the information above, you know that something has probably gone down, and you’re the only man she can trust to help them. She never calls you on a whim; every call from her is a desperate cry for help.

As you stare at her caller ID on your phone that vibrates on the table like it’s possessed, you start steeling yourself for what is to come. You’re hesitant to answer, but basic human decency gets the better of you. You can hear the deafening roar of club music in the background when you pick up, and Minju’s yelling into the phone. Even in the quiet of your apartment, you can’t make heads or tails of what she’s trying to convey to you. Even as you holler I can’t hear you at the top of your lungs, she continues to blabber her intelligible words over the pulsing bass of that horrible song that’s playing in the background.

Then it suddenly gets quiet on the other end, and for a moment, you only hear the sound of your heartbeat crunching in your ears. When Minju speaks again, you can hear the wind blowing by in the background, your indication that she’s exited the club. Her voice rings loud and clear in your apartment.

“Eunbi’s driving to your place, she’ll explain everything,” she’s telling you. “She’ll text when she arrives, get ready to be picked up.”

The urgency in her voice drives you to acquiescence, and you throw on a hoodie and some sweatpants. Couple of minutes later, you’re seated in the front seat of your singer’s car. She’s running you down on the events that have occurred tonight, and the multiple mentions of Chaewon makes your heart sink further and further.

It was enough dealing with her in the band. That shrill frequency she could produce with that trumpet was often aptly used to deafen you whenever she could (she sat on your direct right so she could be a bitch with ease). The bowl she used to collect her saliva was often “accidentally” (the way she said that word with such bogus innocence really brought you to your boiling point sometimes) spilt on to the leg of your jeans when you walked by, her trumpet case “coincidentally” (again, bogus innocence with this one) be in the way of your shin as you tried to get to your kit. Her behaviour wasn’t the culprit behind your irritance towards her, rather the fact that her behaviour failed to reflect what she had requested for when the two of you schismed—a clean break.

“She’s thrown up twice now.” Eunbi’s tone is a mish-mash of frustration and commiseration, “She refuses to move, and she's been groped twice. We don’t mean to drag you into this, but you’re the last feasible option.”

There’s an odd feeling of nihility in your chest as the two of you come to a stop at a red light. In the band, you dealt with her on a physical level. But when Kim Chaewon and alcohol merge, you know that you’ll have to deal with her on an emotional level, and that somehow fails to engender any spite or frustration of the ilk. The silence that hangs in the car is unsettling in light of the confusing sensations you’re experiencing (and also due to the fact that usually chatty Eunbi is finding it hard to start a conversation in this atmosphere), yet you find that you’re poised.

“I’m uh… I’m actually your highschool senior,” Eunbi decides to input, “I used to go to the same school as you, Chaewon and Minju…”

You remain reticent. Eunbi takes the cue and returns her eyes to the road.

The bouncer almost didn’t let you in because of your shabby fit, but a quick wink and a, he’s with me, from Eunbi was enough to get him to let you through. You easily spot Minju amidst club-goers once you get in. Those long, luscious jet black locks that flow just past her shoulders and those large round eyes that always seem to be doleful quickly catch your attention as you wade through the sea of people together with Eunbi. She looks the same as she did all those years ago. She stands when you approach; Kim Chaewon’s slumped over the table they’re at.

“Thank god you’re here.” Her expression tells you that she’s been through quite the ordeal tonight. “I… I hope you understand that—”

She stops mid sentence when you hold up a hand. You understand that such a gesture is impertinent of you, but you can’t help it—there’s too much to process, too much to take in, and a club isn’t the best place to assimilate it all (or to find a lover, an ex lover in this case). Minju steps aside, and you take a moment to look at the sorry sight of your ex—face down on the table of the booth seat and an empty shot glass in hand.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask them. The two girls look at each other, then Minju tells you to do whatever it takes to get her out of here.

So there you are—contemplating on whether you should dump a bucket of ice on her or gently wake her up. Basic human decency gets the better of you, and you slide onto the couch next to Chaewon, gently tap the bare shoulder that’s exposed in her outfit. When she raises her head off the sticky, glossy table, you’re momentarily reminded of the countless times you’d woken her up in the same way when she fell asleep in the school library.

Then those eyes—half-lidded and swimming in tears—lock onto yours. The volume of her voice pales in comparison to the blaring House remix of the Barbie theme, yet when she calls your name, it’s the only thing you can hear. She shifts closer—close enough to rest her head on your shoulder, close enough for you to smell the vodka on her breath as she silently sobs against you; Don’t go, don’t leave, she slots in between those heart wrenching cries. Right now: emotions are running high, alcohol is coursing through her system, memories are resurfacing, and tears are definitely streaming down their cheeks.

Eunbi and Minju look on in silence. Eunbi’s lips are pursed, Minju’s eyes are somehow more doleful. Their looks are doing nothing to assuage the turmoil that you’re feeling. You find yourself saying things that you were never prepared to say.

“She can stay at my place for the night… I doubt she’d want to go anywhere else.”

They look apprehensive, but deep down—they know you’re right.

***

“Uh… Are you sure you want to present this?”

Chaewon looks up from her presentation script to give a simple, “Hm?”. You were scratching your head as you read over the vivid description of Kurt Cobain's death that she’d included. It detailed the nature of his death, the brutal imagery of small, tiny shotgun pellets blowing a hole through the skull of Nirvana’s frontman on the night of his suicide described in an unnaturally calm tone, as if people shooting themselves through the head with a shotgun was an everday occurance.

“I mean…” You were doing your best to not sound reprehensive, “I don’t think Miss Kim would appreciate the… Visceral imagery.”

Her look was one of innocence as she asked, why not, and proceeded to further justify her vivid depiction (her argument was that Lee Chaeyeon had presented on Aviccii’s death in equal vividness and your teacher enjoyed it). The theme of the presentations for the week was “the talented die young”, and she’d decided to talk about one of her favourite bands at the time. She was blasting their hit song Smells Like Teen Spirit through the speaker in her room, and you were finding it hard to focus over all that grunge (you didn’t tell her of course, cause that would’ve made her pouty for the rest of the day).

That was one of your fondest memories from dating her. It showed you her tenacity and her stubbornness in insisting that she was correct. It showed you just how determined and strong-willed she could be. You found that you could still recall every detail of that moment as vividly as she described Cobain's death while you watched her walk around your kitchen from the doorway to your room. Her hair is in disarray, the set of clothes that you’d passed her baggy on her slender frame. For the record: She knows how she got here, she knows where she is, she knows you’re awake, and she knows that you’re watching her. In spite of all this, her movements are calm, her hand taking its time to trail across your cabinets as her eyes slowly soak in her surroundings.

“You know, for someone that said that they wanted a clean break—you’re making things messier than they should be,” you can’t help but tell her. Her hand stops on the handle of your cabinet, her index finger affixing itself there for a minute as she lowers her head. With a sigh, you stuff your hands into your pockets and tell her, “Get out once your hangover wears off.”

You retreat back into your room to get some work done. When you emerge around lunchtime, you find that she’s taken liberties in your kitchen, a piping hot bowl of noodles sitting opposite her at your dining table as she silently slurps on a bowl of her own. You stand there for a moment, then you accost the eating space and stop just before her.

“Are you being for real?” You can’t help but let the revulsion seep into your words, “You’re telling me that your hangover has lasted this long?”

She’s unwontedly silent. Her pugnacious, bratty nature seems to have dissipated into thin air, replaced by one of taciturn and timidness as she stares blankly into her noodles. She doesn’t look up when you sigh and slide into the other seat, nor does she say anything when you start digging into the noodles that she’s prepared for you (you aren’t one to pass up on a free meal, even if it’s prepared by your ex).

It’s when you're halfway through your bowl that she finally pipes up, “thank you for taking me in.”

You go still for a moment.

Then you choose not to reply to her.

After washing up, you communicate to her that she has till sundown to leave your abode before you head back to your room. You know that she’s going to stay like that stubborn patch of mould beneath the snare drum in the recording studio when you hear her playing Smells Like Teen Spirit on her phone through the door. Once again, that damn song is reminding you of how tenacious and stubborn she can be. Those two traits of hers were really double edged swords for that woman.

Night comes; she still hasn’t left. When you exit your room, you find that she’s asleep on the floor. It seems that she’s found it congenial to sleep on the carpeted surface, even though the futon that you provided her last night is literally an arms length away from her sleeping body. Seeing her that way, you’re momentarily reminded of the times she’d stay over at your place while you were dating, and she’d choose to nap on the floor while you worked—even though the bed was empty. The reasons as to why she chose to do so are still unknown to this day—one of the many unsolved mysteries in your relationship, second only to why she’s being the way she is despite what the two of you have previously agreed on.

To be absolutely clear: the two of you know why you broke up. It wasn’t a case of a one-sided sudden change of heart; there was a reason behind it that you both understood (even though you did need a lot of time to come to terms with it). Yes, it was painful. Yes, it was unexpected. Yes, you did miss her for quite some time. But there wasn’t much you could do about it. She’d set her mind on the breakup, and her stubbornness and tenacity had her on wits end when you tried to talk to her.

Was there a possibility the two of you could’ve stayed together? Your answer—yes. Her’s—only God knows what goes through that confusing brain.

Once more, basic human decency drives you to do things you don’t want to, and you end up cooking a share of fried rice for her. You lay her bowl next to her on the floor along with a spoon before seating yourself at the dining table to eat. You’re about halfway through a video essay about some game you’ll never play when she stirs from her slumber.

She spots the bowl, then her gaze wanders to you. Silently, she picks it up and rises to her feet. Now it’s her turn to accost the eating space, except she isn’t belligerent, nor can you sense any hostile intentions.

“Can I sit?” She’s oddly genteel as she points at the chair opposite you. You’ll just end up sitting even if I say no, is your reply. She allows a soft, short chuckle before she slides in. You think about turning off the video essay, but then you decide to not let basic human decency get the better of you this once.

So with some random guy’s voice filling the air, you and Chaewon partake in your meals in silence. You try not to look at her, but you can’t help but throw a few glances her way as she eats. She decided to grow out her hair over the past few weeks, dye it auburn, and now it drapes elegantly past her shoulders like silky curtains. You can’t read her expression (though you never could to begin with), and you certainly can’t understand why she’s become so quiet. She’s trying to make you lower your guard, soften you up then launch some manipulation tactic is what you’re considering. You won’t put it past her to use a facade of milquetoast nature to try and break past your boundaries.

“I’ll be out by tomorrow morning,” she suddenly tells you. That was the first time you tore your gaze away from your phone for more than five seconds. How would one normally reply to such a statement? Oh, okay, seems to be one of the better options, yet you choose to go with, “Good, cause I’m not planning to overstay your welcome.”

Chaewon plucks a rice grain off her top lip. “But you’d let Eunbi or Ryujin stay, right?”

There you were, hoping that she’d be as timid and quiet as she’d been for the rest of the day. The nap must have gotten rid of the rest of the hangover, cause you can hear the haughtiness in her voice.

“Are we really going to have this conversation?” you ask her. The firm look she fixes you with tells you, I’m gonna run my mouth on you whether you like it or not.

“And here I was thinking you’re being a decent human for once,” you can’t help but mutter. “You’re fucking confusing you know that?”

She bristles in her seat. “You watch your fucking mouth player.”

You’re not one to take offence from such comments. Normally, you’d understand that in the heat of the moment, people can say hurtful things that they don’t mean. It’s natural, completely natural—the adrenaline, the emotions, the tension… All of it can melt together in the form of nasty words that spew forth from a person’s mouth.

But when it comes from Kim Chaewon’s mouth however… You can’t seem to find that sympathy in you. She knows that you’ve slept with your singer and bassist, she knows that they’ve had you more than once—it’s right for her to feel this type of anger (even though the two of you aren’t even together anymore), yet there’s no part of you—not even a single atom—that wants to take the time to try to understand where she’s coming from and why she feels this way.

“Player?” You don’t mean to sound as pissed as you do. “Player?” you echo again, just for good measure, “What gives you the right to call me that? I’m not the one who couldn’t wait for their partner!”

“It was two years!” Chaewon cries.

“Well you could’ve at least tried.” You’re not even bothering to filter your words now. “You’re a hypocrite for calling me a player when you couldn’t even wait for me.”

“Two fucking years! Do you really expect me to close my heart to love for two whole years just so I can wait for you to get out of the damn military!” The way her tone conveys how right she thinks she is pisses you off, “I’m a human! I need love! Do you really expect me to wait for it for that long?”

She’s on her feet now, hands on your table, breaths heavy.

She screams, “It’s your fault for signing on so early! It’s your fault for ever thinking that I’d wait!”

You shoot up from your seat and cry, “Well then damn me for ever trying to believe in you!”

Her face contorts into a snarl. She skirts the table, accosts you with her arm whizzing through the air; she slaps you across the face. As the sting lingers on your cheek, you find your fingers curling into fists.

“You’re horrible!” She’s hollering at the top of her lungs, “I wish that I never met you!”

For a moment, there’s only the sound of her heavy breathing. Then those eyes—bulging in their sockets and swimming in tears—lock onto yours. She looks just as she did the night the two of you broke up: hair slightly messy, face twisted in a mix of woe and fury, right up in your face as her face starts to flush under the intense assault of emotions and thoughts. She’s close—close enough to grip you by your collar and pull you towards her, crush her lips against yours, kiss you like she did when you were teens.

And she does just that.

A soft cry slips past her lips, travels into your mouth as she kisses you; It feels exactly the same as it did all those years ago—the meraki, the slight tension in her upper lip, the light quiver in your bottom lip—a familiar comfort you had no idea you missed. Her small waist is captured in your grasp, your face in her hands as she pulls you deeper, kisses you harder. It was like she never left, like she never walked away from you because you had decided to enlist in compulsory military service early so that you could get it over and done with, like she never said, seeing you on the weekends isn't enough for me, I’m sorry. This won’t work out the way you think it will. Let’s just end things off here, nice and clean.

And get this: the whole moment is sweet and all, but deep down, there’s still a small flame of anger alit within you. Even though you kissed her back with equal vigour, you were silently cursing her for making things messier than it had to be; while your hands run through her hair, you find yourself berating her in your head for making you vacillate between missing her and hating her. You aren’t one to be flippant, but Chaewon had the tendency to bring out sides of you that you’ve never seen for yourself.

Her tongue dives into your mouth, her hand pressed flat against your chest. She’s tugging at the fabric of your shirt, and you’re not sure if she’s trying to pull you closer or signalling for you to take it off. You realise it’s the latter when she guides you hand beneath the fabric of the shirt you gave her, your fingertips grazing the soft skin beneath it. Your palm rests on the flesh of her waist. Her skin was warm to the touch.

Your mouths part, and you’re quick to ask, What the hell are we doing. She takes a second to catch her breath, then she replies, “I have no clue, but I’m not stopping whatever’s coming next.”

Going with the flow—that was so her.

You grasp onto the hem of her shirt and gently pull upwards. She’s quick to respond, raising her hands above her head for ease of removal. Then her hands are on your waist band, tugging down at your shorts while your hands skim across her bare skin. She pulls your underwear down together with your shorts, lets them fall and pool around your ankles; her hand is quick to grasp onto your throbbing shaft.

“Chae.” You can’t help but whisper your pet name for her. She starts placing kisses on your clothed chest, her other hand resting on your shoulder while the hand on your cock begins to stroke it with consideration. She leans in and whispers, “Can we pretend like we never left each other? Just for tonight?”

A foolhardy request. She doesn’t know what she’s doing by asking this of you, nor does she care to consider the possibility that the fulfilment of this request can and will invoke unwelcome emotions in both of you. Of course, there’s a chance to turn away from all of this—a chance to stop her hand as it reaches the base of your shaft, a chance to halt her in the midst of tiptoeing to place a peck on your neck; there’s a clear opportunity for you to end what’s happening right here and now—it’s all a matter of how willing you are to go through with this. While your brain screams at you to stop, your body says otherwise; you lift a hand to cup her cheek.

As you tell her, “Just for tonight,” a wisp of a smile appears on her face, and you wonder, What am I doing.

Her hand on your dick leaves to join and assist the other in undoing her bra. She lets the intimate garment fall to the floor before her, her bare breasts on full display. She’s certainly grown more voluptuous as compared to her eighteen-year-old self, and with that change you find an increase in desire for this woman before you. Chaewon cups her tits with her hands, lifts them up, then lets go; she’s putting on a sordid show.

“Christ.” Christians certainly wouldn’t approve your usage of the name of their saviour in this abhorrent, impure context. “You’ve… Grown.”

“Puberty works wonders, no?” She’s taken on a playful tone, one that she was always fond of using while the two of you were dating. “Feel them. I know you want to.”

No sane man would ever turn down such an invitation. You can feel her erect peaks poking against your palms as your fingers close around the mounds; your breath hitches when you realise how firm they’ve become. Her hands join yours on her breasts, aiding you and squeezing and kneading while she lets a sigh leave her lips. Then in a whisper, she tells you how much she’s missed this feeling—your hands caressing her just the way she likes, your breath in her ears as you silently play with her like you used to.

Then she asks you, “Do you ever think about me when you fuck those other girls?”

You consider your words carefully. If you’re to be perfectly honest, there were a few times where the sight of Ryujin’s rippling ass cheeks made you think about her; sometimes the way Eunbi moaned reminded you of her.

But if you’re supposed to pretend like you never left her, some teasing would have to come into play.

“Depends.” You’re not even trying to hide how smug you are, “In what way are we talking?”

She gives you a look, one that says, you cheeky little fucker, but she plays along of course, offering a soft, Hm, as she pretends to go pensive.

Let’s see—she speaks as she (much to your chagrin) practically rips your hands off her body, all so that she can start circling you—Do their moans sound as cute as mine? Are their bodies as tight as mine?

She leans in to pop the final question: Do their pussies feel as good as mine?

For the record: No to the first one, a fifty-fifty between yes and no on the second one (they all had amazing bodies). As for the last question, you couldn’t say (not because you didn’t have an answer, but more because ranking them in terms of how good they feel would be doing all of them an injustice).

Dunno, is the answer you offer her, then you follow up with, “Why don’t we find out?”

She smirks and rolls her eyes. “Segueing—impressive.”

“I’m a laconic man,” you tell her, and, Oh shut the hell up, is her reply as she takes you by the hand and drags you to your room.

It’s crazy to think that just mere minutes ago, she was on her feet, yelling at you and telling you how odious she finds you; now, she’s on her back, her head propped up against a pillow, still yelling, but she’s telling how good you’re making her feel—Fuck, and, Oh shit is all that’s really leaving her mouth, but the message is implicit—as your tongue applies painfully slow strokes to her soaking pink folds. The hand that slapped you is now scrunching up in your hair, the palm that made your cheek sting pushing your head against her crotch while her toes curl into your mattress. You’re wondering if she’s intentionally pitching up her voice as she moans, or if she’s purposely dragging out her sighs, but it doesn’t take away from the utter sublimity of the act.

Chaewon’s slick is sweet; it’s tangier than Eunbi’s and tickles your taste buds better than Ryujin’s—you won’t tell her this of course, but it’s not like you’ll have time to communicate all of this while your head being shoved into her pussy. Believe it or not—this is one of the calmer moments of pussy-eating that you’ve experienced, one of the rare occasions where you actually have time to savour the taste of your partner, assimilate the intimacy of it, a far cry from when you were with Eunbi or Ryujin, where the goal was always to make them cum as fast as possible because that’s what they’re craving for. But believe it or not—even though her needy actions make it seem as if she’s desperately chasing her high, Chaewon’s really just trying to make the most of each and every swipe of your tongue, enjoying the way it skirts her clit and laps up her juices that leak out from her pretty, pink folds; all while she’s squeezing her thighs around your ears and begging you, Oh god, put your fingers in me.

You start with your index finger, using the pad of it to trace the outline of her pussy. Then—just to make sure that she knows that it’s going in too—you let your middle finger join the fray. Your digits graze the skin around her flushed lips, taking their time to cover ground while Chaewon’s reduced to a moaning, mewling mess. What you’re really trying to do here is test the limits of her patience, see how much teasing that small, tight body can really take before her will breaks. It’s a sadistic game you’re playing, but you know that she’s enjoying it as much as you are, even though she is practically screaming at you to stick your digits inside her already.

If there’s anything that this world has taught you, it’s that patience is often rewarding. In this case: Chaewon’s patience was rewarded with the fulfilment of her request. The moan that leaves her half-parted lips is one of satisfaction as you dig your digits into her waiting depths, and they soak in her juices for a minute or two before they start to explore. Her nails dig into your scalp when your fingers dig into the soft flesh on the roof of her pussy. Your name flies out from her lips in a tone of surprise, like she’s taken aback by the fact you remember the exact spot inside her that makes her tick. The smugness on your face says it all, really, and you start to stimulate that spot of sensitive flesh.

“Oh… Oh my… Oh…” She’s barely able to form the simplest of words. The pleasure you’re providing is racing through her body, filling her from head to toe with perverse need and taking over her bodily functions. You’re not doing anything fancy down there; your fingers are just wiggling against the same spot—a simple action that makes her body react in all sorts of complicated ways: twisting, trembling, twitching… It’s working wonders really. You’re amazed that she’s still as sensitive as ever.

“Look at you Chae,” you can’t help but deride. “You’re getting so fucking turned by fingers. I don’t remember you being this needy.”

Even if she’s hellbent on retorting, there’s no space for words to leave her mouth—the moans are filling the space in her throat, bottlenecking and filtering out of her mouth in the form of strained cries. From the limited view between her thighs, you make out the image of her biting down on the nail of her index finger. Meanwhile, the nails in your head dig deeper into your scalp, hardly caring for the fact that they may be drawing blood as their owner manages to beg, Keep going.

Your mouth—now rested enough to continue—rejoins the busy scene; the drawn-out guttural gasp that slides out of her mouth tells you all you need to know—Oh my god. You’re driving me crazy—and you can’t help but smile at the sight of her pleasure stricken face. Chaewon’s barely keeping it together at this point, the dignity that tightly wraps her body is slowly loosening—unravelling at the mercy of your mouth and fingers. The haughtiness, the sheer brattiness—crumbling under the sensations that overwhelm every fibre of her body; now that these perverse thoughts have entered your mind, you find that a dark part of you longs to own her, right here, right now. But of course, patience is rewarding.

You’re willing to wait.

To say that you’re taking your time to eat her out would be inaccurate. If you’re to be honest, it’s difficult to describe the pace you’re using. Inside of her, your index and middle finger move frenetically, as if you are using them to press the same key on a piano repeatedly to produce the same note—her moans. Outside her, your tongue’s movements are almost sluggish, the broad base of it dragging up her flushed lips before the tip flicks the swollen nub at the top. You’re fully invested, scrupulously ensuring the uniformity of your movements to drive Chaewon to perdition. The movements are neither simple nor complex, rather a middle ground between the two (but you do feel that it leans more towards the former), but it’s enough to drive her crazy. Even if she’s a complicated mess to deal with, deep down—she still enjoys some form of simplicity.

“Baby.” The way Chaewon’s calling you sends a shiver down your spine, stirring the emotions in your chest and letting some nostalgia bubble up from the depths of it, “I-I’m… I’m…”

Cumming, you complete just as her head violently whips back into the pillow. Then, in arguably the hottest ways possible, Kim Chaewon orgasms. Her thighs clamp around your head, becoming earmuffs as an onslaught of juices assail your mouth. You can hear her mewling past the flesh that surrounds your ears, and the muffled sound is enough to deluge your heart with depraved satisfaction while her body twitches, convulses and strains violently. The last vestiges of dignity that once enveloped her have fallen away, carried off by the sighs and cries escaping from her trembling lips, and as you lift your mouth of her soaking slit and withdraw your juice-slicked fingers, you know that she’s reached a point of no return.

Patience is truly so rewarding.

“Jesus…” she pants. Once again, believers probably wouldn’t approve of the usage of his name in this context, but something has to cleanse the filth from her body, “When did you get so good at this?”

“Always have been,” you grin. You can tell she wants to roll her eyes, but she hardly has the strength to do so. For a tender moment, you gaze into each other’s eyes and appreciate this moment of inexplicable intimacy, re-living the emotions that were once so present between the two of you. It’s just for tonight. After this, we’ll go back to fighting, you’re telling yourself, and it makes you want to stay like this for a little longer.

But when Chaewon flips herself over onto her belly, the warmth in your chest is shut out and replaced by warped desire. With the tender cheeks of her ass on full display, Chaewon wiggles her behind, inviting you to take your liberties with her body. You take a moment to admire how full they’ve become.

“Been working on it?” you ask her as you squeeze a handful of flesh.

“To the best of my ability,” is her reply, followed by, “you like it?”

Your reply is to deliver a soft spank to the right ass-cheek. She barely even yelps upon contact, a small grin on her face as she watches you spread the flesh apart to reveal her entrances. Then she urges you, “Come on now… Pick a hole, fuck it till you fill it with your cum.”

“What if I want both?” You can’t help but be a little cheeky. Chaewon’s bottom lip furls behind her front teeth.

“I’m not stopping you,” she whispers, “just promise me to cum in me.”

Not a trace of dignity in her words.

Alright, is what you tell her before your head slips inside of her pussy. You can pinpoint the exact moment where her body almost becomes the only thing to exist in your mind—it’s when those walls clamp down around your shaft, pulsing ever so slightly and still twitching from her orgasm, and it’s enough to make you clench all your muscles while you hilt yourself in her. The sigh you let out hardly synchronises with Chaewon’s gasp. Yet, you find that your thoughts are perfectly in sync as your hands grip onto her small waist, and she props herself up on her elbows and knees. Her hair falls off her back, cascading down her shoulders as she turns her head, catches your gaze to tell you—Own this pussy.

No more words need be said. Eagerly, you begin to pump yourself in and out of Chaewon’s slick, tight pussy, her body tightening around your cock with every thrust in and out, lathering your length with juices that glisten in the low light of your room. The sound of her sighs and gasps quickly rise in volume, a beautiful backdrop to the sounds of your wet shaft penetrating her slick pussy again and again.

You’ve already lost yourself in her from the moment you stuck your member into her, but you find your grasp on reality somehow slipping further and further with each thrust you make into that amazingly tight body. It’s the nostalgia—that feeling of being able to hold her again, the feeling of being able to fuck her like you did on those nights after you graduated high school, those nights where her parents weren’t home and she wanted you in ever way possible—that’s making you sink deeper and deeper into this new reality that is Kim Chaewon’s body.

Then her moans start once more; you give in to the carnal emotions that you’ve been doing a really bad job at suppressing, and almost at once, Chaewon becomes the only thing that matters. Her flesh suddenly feels softer than before, her moans and sighs and cries sounding closer and closer to a melody than a haphazard arrangement of notes, and when she rasps for you to fuck her harder, you’re quick to oblige.

Screw patience, you’re going to take what’s yours right here and now.

Your hands drift up from her waist, grip her shoulders and pull her till her body is almost upright. Your left hand slides down, wraps around her flat tummy; your right follows suit—you’re practically hugging her. Chaewon’s arms reach behind her, lock themselves around your neck and pull her face closer to yours. She doesn’t turn to kiss you—that’d take too much energy, energy that she would rather put into moaning—so you settle on capturing her earlobe between your lips, sucking on it softly while she starts to moan your name. Then, her confessions start.

I’ve missed this, I’ve missed you… Oh god, I fucking missed the way your cock stretched me out. So good… So fucking good… This pussy was made for your cock.

Those were just some of the many things you managed to make out. The words were hastily assembled, phonics loosely strung together, and then expelled from those beautiful pink lips in a precipitate manner. There were other things like: I love you, I fucking love you and Oh God I love you as well, but your tried not to make to much of it. Even though you’re lost in paradise, lost in her body, your subconscious is still actively fighting to keep her influence out of your head. Things are already messy—both figuratively and literally—as they are, and the last thing you need is to fall in love with memories of Chaewon while you’re fucking her in such a callous, unrelenting manner. Sex and alexithymia towards an ex is never a good combination—yet here you are, rearranging the insides of Kim Chaewon after agreeing to whatever it was you agreed to before you started (it’s not because you chose to forget, but because you truly can’t remember anything past the point where you stepped through the doorway to your bedroom).

You push away the thoughts (for now), letting them exit your body together with the growl that you release into her ear—Chaewon, why are you so fucking wet?—as your shaft continues to plunge itself between her slick, wet folds. The cheeks of her ass ripple deliciously with each strike of your crotch against hers, eliciting a raunchy exclamation from her body each time she hilts you to the base of your cock. You’re not going particularly fast—Chaewon suddenly has the capacity to reply, I’m always wet for you, baby—but you’re so utterly deep inside her that it’s driving the both of you to perverted elation. The position compromises your speed, but you know for a fact that Chaewon is more than happy to make the trade off, savouring the feel of every inch of you filling her insides at a considerate yet fervent pace.

“Baby.” Her pet name for you is really doing dangerous things to your feelings, “Harder. Let me feel all of you, just like last time.”

She turns her head to meet your gaze, and it’s only then that you see the tears streaming down her cheeks. Your best guess: just like how nostalgia has its effect on you, it's impacting her too. Her emotions are being dallied with, just as yours are. She’s feeling things that she can’t describe, and she doesn’t know if it’s the rock-hard meat drilling in and out of her that’s making her feel this way, or if it's the fact that she may very well be falling for you again. You may never fully comprehend the intricate workings of human emotions, but as you lean in and gently draw her lips to yours, you hope to help her make sense of her feelings.

Why does she always make things messier than they have to be, your asking yourself, all while her hand finds your left cheek, gripping it tightly as your lips part and she whispers, “Fucking own me. Make this pussy yours, just like you used to.”

Just like last time, just like you used to—two statements that unwittingly conveyed that she’s dabbling in the past in a foolhardy manner. Damn it Chae… Why are you doing this? You’re thinking, even as you’re riotously making her bouncing breasts you handlebars, pinching her stiff peaks with between the gap of your middle and forefinger as you double down on her. You’re wondering, Why do you have to make this so damn complicated, as she leans back into you, and you mark the skin of her neck with your lips. Why couldn’t you just wait for me? Things wouldn’t have to be this way if you just had some damn patience, you’re pondering, all while she starts to throw herself back onto your cock. It’s hard to tell if she truly understands the emotional state she’s put herself in, you tell yourself. The irony of this statement is not lost on you, and you’re inwardly chortling at yourself as you pull yourself out of your own head.

You return to reality, and you find that Chaewon’s cumming once more. Did she announce its arrival? You don’t know. All you know is that her pussy is tightening rapidly around you, her body is shivering and shuddering against you, and her knees start giving out on her. You steady her against your chest, slowing yourself to a halt as you realise how dangerously close to the edge you are.

When she taps you on the knee, you take it as a sign to gently lay her back down on the bed. With her belly flat against the mattress, Kim Chaewon reaches behind her and spreads her asscheeks with her fingers. She gives you the slightest of nods; you pull out of her freshly fucked pussy, point the head of your cock at the opening of her ass, and begin to press forward.

Chaewon gasps as your head presses against her tight opening, her body refusing to let you in at first—but you press forward with your hips, slowly parting her entrance. Chaewon squirms and quivers as her opening slowly parts, and soon you are finally inside her. Her hands tighten into fists, scrunching up your bed sheets; a grimace of pain overtakes her partially turned head as you penetrate her ass for the first time. She lets a long hiss escape her lips, and you lean down to kiss the back of her head in an attempt to comfort her, bringing your left hand to match hers on the bed, covering her small hand with your own.

Soon you are halfway inside her ass, and you go no further, letting her get used to the new penetration. When you stop moving, Chaewon lets out a long breath that she didn’t know she was holding.

“You okay?” You’re checking on her out of genuine concern. It’s basic human decency, you’re trying to tell yourself, but you have a sinking feeling that she’s unknowingly broken past your defences.

“Fuck,” she spits, “fuck you’re so big inside me.”

“Do you want to—”

“Fuck no,” she snaps, “fuck, please don’t stop. I want this. I want you. I want you in my ass.”

The soft sigh you let out makes the hair atop her head flail a little as she wipes the tears from her cheeks. She isn’t crying anymore, but she certainly seems a little embarrassed that she let her emotions get the better of her.

“Keep going.” She can’t seem to raise her head as she speaks, “Fill me, please…”

Basic human decency drives you to compliance, and so you press forward—all the while, your eyes are affixed to the back of her head, your left hand still grasping hers while she shifts around slightly, adjusting herself to take you in better. The small yelps she occasionally lets slip tells you that she’s in discomfort, but not enough to make you stop entering her asshole. It’s too late to turn back now anyway.

It felt like years, but soon you're fully inside her, buried to the hilt inside Chaewon’s ass.

You slowly draw your shaft outside of Chaewon’s tightly gripping ass for the first time, and once it is halfway out, you slowly push back inside her. She's a quivering and squirming mess, and soon you are slowly pumping in and out of her body, your pace relaxed as you enjoy the tight, hot flesh of Chaewon’s body wrapped around your cock. You’re glad that the sheer sublimity of the sensation is removing your ability to think, allowing you to steep yourself in the moment with a turmoil free mind.

Chaewon’s tightness is overwhelming to say the least. Her pussy was tight, but her ass on another level altogether. Not as wet, of course, but almost overwhelmingly tight and hot, grasping you tightly with each entrance and exit like a glove. This would be the first time you’re entering her like this, and you aren’t sure if you’re doing it right, but soon she’s taking you in and out of her ass smoothly, the pain and discomfort of your initial penetration quickly lessening and giving way to the novel, new sensation of pleasure from having her ass filled.

Chaewon lets a short, sharp gasp escape her lips when you fill her to the hilt—one that takes her by surprise given the slight look of shock that you make out on her features. You reach down with your right hand, gingerly grip her chin and tilt her face up so you can get a better look at her face. Her eyes are glazed over now with pleasure, locking to yours as you start pumping in and out of her asshole. After a while her gasps lessen and then end completely as she becomes used to the hard length pumping in and out of her butt. She reaches up with her right hand to hold yours, and she pulls it down her chin until it’s at her throat. You didn’t know she was into choking, and she had never made you do it before. Then again, you’ve never had her ass before either—there’s a first for everything.

You feel her warm neck pulsing beneath your palm. She squeezes the outside of your hand slightly, causing you to clamp a little bit around her slim neck. The slightly reduced airflow at her throat causes her ass to clench even tighter around you: succulent pleasure to your mind that makes you think you are going insane. The novelty of fucking Chaewon’s ass, your hand around her throat, the carnality, the surprising tenderness of the moment–it’s all so damn overwhelming.

“C-Chae,” you call out to her. Her gaze flickers from the wall to your eyes, and you whisper, “Do you… Do you really want me to—”

“Just fucking do it!” Chaewon gasps, barely attempting to filter the want out of her voice, “Choke me! Cum in me!”

With her permission, you were more than willing to let yourself fall over the edge at this point.

Chaewon’s hand—the one that stops your hand at her throat—tightens, as though willing you to increase your grip on her windpipe. You are still afraid of hurting her—you already feel guilty for causing her pain and discomfort (physically and emotionally). But her hand on top of yours, clasped around her throat, dismissed any worry you may have had about taking things too far. Your orgasm beckons, and the hand around Chaewon’s pale throat tightens involuntarily with each thrust in her hot, tight hole.

Do it… own me—her voice is straining—Make yours again. Choke me while you fuck my ass… Use me! Fill me… Fill my ass with your cum!

With a few final, short, hard thrusts into Chaewon’s ass, you bury yourself as deep inside her as you can before finally letting go. Thick, hot cum spurts from your shaft into Chaewon’s willing depths, her hot, tight ass squeezing and pulsing around your cock as if milking every last drop from you. As you cum, your hand around her throat involuntarily tightens, and the moan that escapes Chaewon’s throat turns into a gasp—the dark part of you takes obscene pleasure in that fact.

Both of your bodies quiver and shake as the intense pleasure of your orgasm overwhelms your senses. It seems to last forever—longer than any other orgasm you’ve had. Nothing else exists for those long seconds, aside from Chaewon’s shaking body beneath you and the hot mess you’ve made inside her.

Your cock pulses a few final times as your orgasm slowly subsides and releases the last spurts of cum into Chaewon’s body and you regretfully come down from your high. After a few more seconds of treasuring the feel of the hot, creamy mess you’ve left inside her, you slowly draw your half-soft cock out of her body. Within seconds, white, pearly semen begins to leak out of her and onto the reddened, sore cheeks of her ass. Your eyes remain glued to Chaewon’s still-quivering form as she tries and mostly fails to collect herself. Slowly, she turns on her side, her whole body heaving like she’s completed a marathon. Her inner thighs glisten, your juices and hers flow down her naked skin. It's now that you remember what you agreed to before you started: Just for tonight…

“Hey…” Her voice has a lilt as she beckons you to her side. “Cuddle with me… Just for tonight.”

There she goes again.

Yeah, right... you sigh inwardly. The way she's looking at you tells you that the feelings brought forth tonight will persist as long as she permits. Maybe, just maybe, you should have turned her down, made her come as she was, and kept her at a distance; but she’s already snuggled up in your arms by the time you finish this train of thought. She kisses you on your jaw, then on your neck, then utters a soft good night baby before nuzzling herself into the crook of your neck.

Physically and emotionally, you've made a mess of her. And, in turn, she's made a mess of you too—physically and emotionally.

But you choose to forget that, just for tonight.

***

She slips out of your apartment at God knows what time, leaving like a thief in the night and leaving a note in her wake: I took one of your shirts. Will return it if I feel like it.

Then below the message: P.S. Forget that last night happened. Go continue being a player.

“I… Can’t believe this bitch.” You’re leaning against the door—the place where she’d stuck on the note—as you finish reading it. You decide to crumple it and toss it away—it’s the easiest thing to forget about her anyway.

To be clear: You had no clue what your opinion on Chaewon was anymore, nor did you know what your status with her was (though the note suggests that she’s going to return to her usual bratty behaviour). Sometimes, you wish that there could be a bright digital sign perpetually hanging above her head, providing interpretations to her erratic behaviour.

Yea… That would be great.

Just as you throw out her bowl of fried rice, there comes a knock on your door. You’re surprised to find Hwang Yeji standing there by herself.

“O-Oh… Yeji,” you mutter.

“That has to be the most asinine statement I’ve ever heard,” she derides. You purse your lips and scratch the back of your head, then you ask, “Do you uh… Need to borrow something?”

Yeji sighs and shakes her head. She’s quick to get to the point, “Are you free this afternoon?”

You nod, then she tells you, “I need you to follow me somewhere today. Meet me in the lobby at 3pm.”

She’s about to leave you with that vague request, but you’re quick to ask what this is about. It’s unwonted of her to suddenly request to meet you, and you’re painfully aware (or at least you thought you were) that she knows that this is unprecedented of her. Laconic and biting as ever, she turns back to you and tells you: I need you to help me talk to someone.

“W-Who?” You’re quick to ask. She turns her back to you as she answers.

“My junior. She wants to be our saxophonist.”

_________________________

What is popping gang. I did not get a chance to look through this thoroughly, nor was I able to get anyone to beta read for me :p. Hope you didn't have your bars raised to high for this.

~Nichuuu

#kim chaewon #chaewon smut #lesserafim smut #le sserafim #chaewon le sserafim #kpop #fanfic #writing #smut

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zeherili-ankhein · 10 days ago

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YUPP IKRRRRR

Like they were such dumbasses we can rule the kingdom so easily and facts we won't even need rules just enjoy the luxury

@tehmam what do you say??

Also since you somehow reminded me of that fugly ass book leme confess something

That king dude from Melon city was such a himbo like I imagine him being a shitass person but very handsome

All he needed was just a gorgeous evil queen that would rule his kingdom while keeping him in the front

And I'm so ready to be that queen 💀🗿💅✨

I have so much to say but I don't know what to say to this 😭😭😭😭😭😭

other than YEASSSSSSSSSSS

I'd marry the melon tbh

it'll listen to be better than any man every did anyways

#TRUMPETS #PPOAAAPOOOOOPAPAMAPAMPAMPPPPPPPP #prev #YESSSSSS #*cue to playing azeem o shan shahenshah in the background*#batasha <3

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ozzgin · 1 year ago

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I need a yandere with the same confidence in denying factual reality as Captain Kirk from Star Trek.

Concerned friends: What are you talking about? You can’t just...break into (Y/N)’s home and kidnap them as some sort of romantic proposal. Are you out of your mind? It’s impossible!

[dramatic trumpet plays in the background]

Yandere: Impossible is not an option, gentlemen. I want solutions, and I want them now. Meet me again in one hour, and I better see those detailed floor plans when I return.

#had to share it with someone #yandere #yandere concept #yandere x reader #I just really like Jim #the best part is that it always works out for him #sometimes being delusional pays off

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chaoticace2005 · 1 year ago

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Info on Hazbin Hotel Characters Acquired Via Wiki 1/?: Angel Dust

-He’s described as a cis male, but does have a retractable penis (similar to his arms)

-Died in his 30s in 1947

-Is gay but will sleep with women for extra money

-Hates his feet, avoids anything that involves showing them and would be angry if it’s unavoidable

-Based on a jumping spider

-Possibly venomous but only to cause temporary pain/disfigurement and make them fall ill

-There’s a “reason” he’s so brightly colored and it will be explored in the show

-Has an older brother (Arackniss) and twin sister (Molly), family in the mob in the new work. All spider-based demons due to “web of crime.” Estranged from family.

-Has Italian background and can speak it fluently

-Enjoys Italian dishes and can cook them pretty well

-Can read sheet music and play accordion/trumpet, although not well

-Likes cozy, unsexualized clothing when not maintaining work persona

-Likes fish, especially blobfish and angelfish

-Name originally going to be “Martin” but changed to “Anthony”

-Originally designed to be a more masculine gangster in a series with his brother Arackniss

-Part of attitude in hell is due to not being able to authentically be himself in his living life

-Early artworks had Angel and Vaggie as a romantic couple, although decided against it and developed the characters. No longer compatible.

-In old artworks his eye resembles the shiner his brother gave him before he died (unknown if still canon

Staff Artwork: (again, these were older drafts that have since been reworked):

Old Design:

Beta Draft for Human:

Him with his Siblings:

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fun facts #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel

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blackleatherjacketz · 10 months ago

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Shadow and Sin: Chapter 5

Elijah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having just moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they are until it's too late.

This Chapter: You wrap things up with Elijah and reflect on your situation before Klaus invites you over for a private mentoring session.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only!, Kissing, Dancing, Painting, Brush Play, Groping, Nipple Play, Light Masochism, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Neck Kissing/Licking, Female Orgasm, Power Imbalance

Word Count: 2.8k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

You spent the next few hours with Elijah that night, allowing yourself to feel worthy enough to take his hand and follow him out onto the dance floor. He took you back in time to the sounds of Cab Calloway and Ella Fitzgerald as the rest of the world faded into a blurry whirl around you. His strong hands grasped at your waist and fingers with such ease as he drew you in closer, you got the feeling that you were always meant to be held by him as that delicate grin idly spread across his lips.

For the very first time in your life, you finally felt the way society had born and bred you to feel around a man, the butterflies in your stomach insisting on lifting you all the way up to the ceiling if he weren’t there to anchor you to the floor. You could hear trumpets in the background, barely audible over the loud thumping of your heart as his hand slithered up your lower back, pressing your heaving chest against his before tilting your torso down in a dramatic dip. Instinctively, your arm reached up and wrapped around his neck, holding on for dear life as the music sped up, his lips grazing over yours. Your halted breath nearly made you see stars, his teasing mouth driving you wild as it mapped its way across your chin and jawline, forcing you to turn your cheek toward his.

He’d quickly straightened your spine back to a standing position, keeping the distance, or lack thereof, between you as your body trembled against his. All thoughts of Klaus had been pushed to the back of your mind as his freshly shaven face brushed against yours, turning toward you until his lips finally tasted the flavor of your desire for him. The kiss was chaste at first, slowly deepening as he held you tighter, his fingers pressed snugly between your shoulder blades to keep you from depriving him of what he wanted all along, of what you both always knew you wanted from each other.

The night, however, had ended shortly after that, Elijah claiming that he was a gentleman who wanted to take his time getting to know you as those butterflies were slow to calm their wings. He had given you his number so he ‘didn’t have to stalk you anymore’ and called you an Uber to safely drive you home. You fell asleep that night secretly hoping that he wasn’t going to be the one to get bored of you before disappearing into thin air.

———————-

A text from Klaus wakes you from your slumber mid morning, telling you to meet him at his studio around eight o’clock tonight, and to be ready to paint. Shit, you’d nearly forgotten about Klaus! You sit up and run a hurried hand through your hair, squinting at your phone to make sure Elijah hadn’t texted you after you told him that you’d gotten home safe, but he hadn’t. This is all starting to get a bit more twisted than you’d anticipated, a small sense of guilt climbing its way into your chest before you take a deep breath and force it out of your system.

Wait a minute, how many men have dated multiple women at the same time until they were sure which one they wanted a relationship with? And even then, how many of them did they keep on the back burner ‘just in case’? How many of them had lied in the process, leading them on until it was too late, or let them believe that they were something more than what they actually were? In comparison to their tactics, you aren’t doing anything vile or deceitful, you’re just… keeping your options open until you know how you feel. You aren’t even exclusive with either one of them just yet.

With all that in mind, you get dressed and go about your day, eventually driving over to the address Klaus had sent you, hoping your session with him tonight could make things a little clearer. With a bag full of paint and brushes on your shoulder, you reluctantly knock on the door of the industrial looking building he’d claimed as his studio.

“I do hope my little protégé is well rested after her rounds at the hospital.” Klaus greets you in a black Henley, streaks of green paint slowly drying on his knuckles as he holds up a glass of wine for you to take. He must have been eagerly awaiting your arrival.

“Well, not all of us are lucky enough to benefit from generational wealth.” You defend yourself, taking the glass of wine from him and following him inside the open concept studio.

Its ceilings are rather high for it being on the first floor, the windows taking up most of the east side as it offers a beautifully vast view of the river and the glittering city skyline. Composed mostly of exposed brick and steel piping with chipped paint, this isn’t exactly what you had pictured for someone like him, but you can’t imagine what you would have dreamed up in its place. “Wow, this place is amazing. You live here?”

“Oh no, this is just a studio I rent to get away from the unceasingly tiresome dramatics of my family.” He walks you past a few paintings of his own, beautifully emotive pieces of different styles stacked on tables and chairs, even a few scattered across the floor. It seems that painting for him is a necessity, a constant itch that he has to scratch in order to keep himself from going mad.

“Your family?” Oh god, is he married? Are you the other woman? You quickly glance down at his ring finger, relieved to find it devoid of any jewelry.

“My siblings, love.” He looks back and winks at you, easing your mind as if he already knew where it was going. “The lot of us still manage to get under each other's skin while living under the same roof, so I’ve had to result to this… barbaric hideaway in order to get any peace and quiet for my work.”

You roll your eyes as he calls this expensive piece of real estate barbaric, secretly glad that you didn’t invite him over to your place to paint. You wonder what eloquent and deeply offensive adjectives he’d throw your way when he saw the tiny corner of your apartment that you painted in, or all of your hand-me-down furniture.

“Well, I like it.” You tell him before taking a sip of your wine.

“Imagine my relief.” He jokes, stopping in front of a blank canvas mounted on an easel as he grabs a half-full wine glass that had been warming on the table next to it. “Now tell me, what gets a woman like you in the mood to paint? What inspires my little Frida Kahlo to create the bold masterpieces I’ve seen? With all that anger brewing inside you, I imagine it doesn’t take much.” He downs his drink and sets it back down where he found it. “But you don’t look very angry now.”

“No?” You raise an eyebrow before taking another sip, wondering where he’s going with this.

“On the contrary, love, you look quite well.” He waltzes toward you, his features shifting from jovial to predatory in an instant. “I was thinking we could work with that, that we could start off with a sort of collaboration. Nothing too fancy, just a way to get those creative juices flowing.”

“Collaboration? I’ve never done anything like that before.” You admit, all of the sudden getting uneasy about your skill set. What if your nerves get the best of you while he’s around, and you can’t deliver? What if he regrets taking you on as his protégé?

“Have you ever tried abstract before?” He pulls his phone out of his pocket and turns on some music, the open space allowing it to echo beautifully around you before he sets it down on the table.

“Abstract? No, not really.” You don’t hate the idea of abstract, but you’ve always just felt that it was sort of… too easy, somehow, a cheat that anyone could do. But you guess you’ll never really know until you try.

“No matter.” He walks around the table ladled with paints and jars full of different colored water, twisting the caps off a handful of colors before squeezing them into individual mason jars, carefully setting them in front of the canvas. His eyes glance up at you ever so often, watching you as if he fears that you’ll sprout wings and fly away if he loses sight of you for too long. “Are you willing to experiment with me?”

Jesus. What a loaded question.

He fills a glass of water and sets it down next to the rest of the paints, his darkened eyes back on you. “Are you ready to toss those inhibitions aside and create something truly spectacular?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” You shrug your shoulders as if he isn’t aware of the insanely magnetic pull he seems to have on you any time you’re near him. As if he can’t already feel the air between you charge with potential energy, each atom vibrating at an accelerated rate, begging to be pushed into motion by either one of you at any moment. As if he couldn’t see all of that written plain as day, across your face as your features soften for him.

“That wasn’t an answer.” He twirls a clean paint brush in between his fingers as he strides up to you, pointing it at your face before tracing it along your chin and neck, humming to himself as he awaits your reply. His full lips pout as he brings them closer to your face, a habit you’ll never quite get used to, but certainly won’t complain about as the bristles from the brush excite each and every strand of fine hair across your skin.

“I’m ready,” you whisper as your lips remain parted, the muscles in your thighs and abdomen tightening instinctively.

“Good girl. Then let’s start by painting the canvas a color that matches your mood.” He continues to drag the brush slowly down your neck and across your clavicle, his eyes following raptly as it forces your breath to still. “I wonder what you could be feeling right now?”

Goddamnit. He’s really got his claws in you now.

“Excitement,” you start, trying to slow and deepen your breath as it shallows in your heaving chest.

“Excitement? Is that all?” He takes your hand and firmly places the brush in your palm before stepping behind you, keeping contact with your skin the entire time. “I fell in love with your artwork because it was brutally honest about the gruesome horrors of this world, and all you have to give me is ‘excitement’?” He clicks his tongue. “No, you can do much better than that. Why don’t you tell me what feeling makes those pretty little cheeks flush such a deep crimson, what makes that bleeding heart of yours race inside your chest every time our eyes meet.” He feathers his palms over your shoulders and moves your hair away from your neck. “I want to hear you say it.”

You swallow hard as he pushes your buttons, his hands collecting your hair to one side before smoothing their way down your arms, eventually finding familiarity on both of your hips before you finally speak. “I feel aroused.”

God, you’re so bad at dirty talk.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, now was it?” He guides you toward the canvas step by step, his breath hot on your neck as his hands slink up under your shirt, smoothing their way up your belly until they slip beneath your bra. “Admitting how you feel?”

“No,” you whisper your lie softly, gasping as your nipples harden against his palms, putting any doubt of his intentions to rest. “It wasn’t.”

“Well don’t tell me about it, love, put it on the canvas.” He instructs coldly, squeezing your breasts as you shudder beneath his touch.

“Right.” You take the brush and try to keep it as steady as possible despite his seductive distraction, placing a large amount of red onto the palette before adding a hint of blue, mixing the two together into a deep, moody magenta. A twinge of pain shoots up into your spine as Klaus pinches both your nipples, forcing you to drag the brush across the canvas in a sporadic, diagonal pattern. “Klaus!”

“Don't mind me, just keep on painting.” He kisses his words into the delicate skin of your neck, twisting your sensitive tissue even harder as he draws out a tiny yelp from your lips and an arch from your back.

It takes every ounce of self control you have not to drop the brush and turn around to face him, but you continue to paint the base of the canvas the vibrant color of your desire. Through heavily hooded lids, you finally finish every corner, setting your brush down as Klaus takes the opportunity to pull your shirt off over your head before unclasping your bra.

“See how freeing it is to try something new?” He pushes the straps of your bra down your shoulders, tickling your skin even more until it falls onto the floor next to your shirt.

“Yes,” you whisper, the sudden exposure making you shiver in the air conditioning before the heat of his arms comforts you.

“Now,” he wraps his fingers around yours, guiding your hand to clean the brush in the water as his other hand makes quick work of unbuttoning your jeans. “Let’s really set you free.”

Like a puppet on a string, he has you dry the brush off before the two of you dip it into the black paint, letting it build and collect on the tip before lifting it back up. He takes his time before making you press it against the canvas, allowing it to drip down along its path, splattering onto your breasts and shoulders before leaving a trail of dots and streaks across the magenta background of your work. It’s almost enough to distract you from his fingers that now delve in between your folds, collecting your liquid warmth as if it were colorful paint itself and his fingers the brush, spreading a clear coat up and down your length before pulling up on your clit.

“Oh my god, Klaus” you whisper as he works his magic between your thighs, continuing to zigzag the black, tarry ooze across the canvas until the brush nearly runs dry.

“Look at that,” he nips at your ear, whispering his praise against it in a gravelly tone. “You’re a natural abstract artist after all.” He kisses the spot just behind your jaw, suckling your skin before licking the path of your pulse until he reaches the nape of your neck.

“You… you bit me last time.” You recall out loud, nearly getting lost in the lustful haze he’s so expertly created just for you.

“I did.” He smiles as he tastes more of your skin, thinking fondly of your last encounter as he rubs deep circles into your bud. “And you liked it.”

“I did.” Your breathless reply surprises you both, floating into the air a little too quickly as his fingers send more signals of hypnotic bliss up into your core, forcing you to drop the brush onto the floor.

“I knew it, I could see it in your eyes that night. You enjoy a bit of pain with your pleasure, is that it?” He lets go of your hand and grabs your chin, turning your face toward him.

“Yes.” His gorgeous face only adds to your building euphoria, alighting every neuron beneath his fingertips as he calls you out.

“Well, it turns out great minds think alike.” His blackened pupils expand with his growing arousal, their bluish green tint fading off into the recesses of his eyes. “We’re going to have so much fun together.”

You nod in response, barely able to utter a word as his fingers steal your breath completely, drawing a fuzzy curtain over your field of vision as odd patterns glow and fade over his skin and curls. You watch him grin as your visions intensify, changing colors, dimensions and brightness as he touches you in the perfect pattern to make your muscles clench and spasm in his arms, your toes curling from his deliciously expert precision.

“That’s it, love,” he whispers, turning your head to face the canvas as your orgasm rips its way through you. “See all those colors? All those patterns you couldn’t have even dreamed of before?”

“I see them,” you stammer, a stuttered breath in between each syllable as your heart threatens to break out of your ribcage. “Stars and pyramids…”

“Those are all for you.” He pushes his fingers inside your slick, wet walls, refusing to let your body come down from its chemical high just yet. “I want you to paint them for me.”

#klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #the originals #klaus mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x reader #niklaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson smut #joseph morgan #daniel gillies

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willoillo · 3 months ago

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hey so I got ideas for the Jade Winglet band thing. Winter would have something refined and deep (I see him on something like a cello). Carnelian has a war background so maybe a bugle or trumpet? (That she plays very majestically and is Not Embarrassed by this At All.) Would suggest drums but Qibli's already on them. (Alternately: Carnelian angrily playing a tambourine)

I had actually come to the same conclusion about Winter, actually!! I was going to do Carnelian too before posting but stuff has kinda interrupted my ability to work for the evening so I'm gonna just go ahead and give y'all Winter. Still, almost done now!! I would be completely done if I didn't include Carnelian because she died but like... nawwww she's a part of Jade Winglet too

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justmystyles · 2 years ago

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Ok so I was thinking Harry is very private and only seen with skinny girls but then he got a new bandmember but she is plus size and wears glasses so even tho they act cute and couply ? On stage fans just think they are really good friends but one night Harry slips up bc bandmember got hurt by flying objects and he rushes over to her giving her hugs and pecks asking over and over if she is ok ? And well he might’ve sorta forgot where they where but then didn’t care bc his baby girl got hurt hope that makes sense and hope you wanna write it

Line of Fire

check out my other works!

pairing: Harry Styles x band member plus size reader

word count: 1.5k

summary: you and harry have been keeping your relationship off the radar, but his concern for you overwhelms his need for privacy.

warnings: physical injury, not sure if that is one, but better safe than sorry.

a/n: thank you so much for this ask @fanficismydrug! i loved this idea so much, and it was so exciting to bring it to life. i hope it's what you were hoping for!

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @n0vaj3an @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

You tapped gently on Harry’s dressing room door, almost immediately hearing him call for you to enter. As you stepped over the threshold, you watched his eyes peer up from the book he was reading, his pensive expression quickly turned to a smile as he folded over his page, putting the book down on the table behind him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.” You apologize as you enter the room.

“Don’t be silly, you’re never a bother.” He outstretched his arms. “Get over here, angel.”

You happily sauntered into his embrace, kissing him softly as he pulled you into his lap. “Hi,” you smile against his lips.

You were so excited when you were hired to play trumpet in Harry’s Love on Tour band. It felt like the ultimate validation after spending so many years as a tormented band geek. You were in your element, playing music with people who loved it just as much as you did. Especially Harry.

You hadn’t expected you’d spend much time with Harry, he was the superstar, you were just in the background. But you quickly realized that was the farthest thing from the truth. The two of you clicked immediately, falling into this comfortable flirty friendship. You two had become inseparable, everyone on the tour knew that if they couldn’t find one of you, your best bet was to look for the other. Even the fans had noticed your back and forth on stage, and you were quickly labeled as Harry’s bestie.

You had been ‘friend-zoned’ so many times in your life that you were used to palling around with the guys you liked. It didn’t stop you from falling for Harry though. You knew he was flirty by nature, so you always tried not to read too far into his actions. He obviously didn’t see you the way you saw him. You’d seen the kinds of girls Harry had been photographed with, you’d heard all the rumors about his lovelife. None of those girls looked anything like you, they were these gorgeous supermodels with tiny waists. You would never be that, so you just settled for being his friend.

But then, there was a shift. Harry’s touches started to linger a little longer, when you would hang out and watch movies, you noticed he started to sit closer and closer. And then, one day everything changed. You had just finished sound check, and Harry asked you to come back to his dressing room with him. And he took that opportunity to confess his feelings for you. You had been together ever since.

“You’ve been busy today, I’ve hardly seen you.” Harry pouted, you giggled before biting his bottom lip gently.

“I know baby, I’m sorry. I promise I’m going to make it up to you.” You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a lingering kiss.

“Mmm, you always do.” He sighs, squeezing your hips gently.

“Oh, I meant to ask you. How’d your date go the other night?” He gives you a confused look. You chuckle as you pull out your phone, tapping a few times before pulling up a deuxmoi post that was submitted of Harry, the caption saying he was out on a date with a mystery blonde.

Harry’s eyes soften, and he lifts his hand to your cheek, stroking it gently. “Angel, you know that’s nothing right? It was a business dinner.”

“I know, I’m just joking around.” He smiled widely at your words and pulled you in so that your head was resting against his chest.

Harry liked to keep his private life to himself. He felt that he gave so much to everyone all the time, that he wanted to keep some things just for him. Your relationship was one of those things. You were fine with that, you didn’t need to parade your relationship around to the world to know it was real.

Later that night, you were onstage playing your heart out. You and Harry had been playing off each other all night, like you usually would. He would also shoot an occasional wink, or sly smirk in your direction every now and then.

The crowd had been particularly rowdy all night, but as the opening notes to Watermelon Sugar began, the screaming crescendoed and people began truly losing their minds. Harry and the band had gotten used to things being thrown onstage, you had gotten pretty good at dodging the assorted items. Until you weren’t.

You were so caught up with the energy in the room, watching Harry drink it all in and give it right back to them, that you didn’t see the watch soaring in the air. But you definitely felt it when it hit you in the side of the head, knocking you to the ground.

Harry heard the crowd collectively gasp when you went down. He looked around, his brow furrowed in confusion, looking for the scene that caused such a reaction. He turned behind him and saw you on the ground, wincing in pain and holding your head.

He ran full speed toward you, dropping to his knees in front of you. He tossed his microphone on the riser beside you before collecting you in his arms.

“Y/N, are you alright?” He asked frantically, stroking your hair. He felt you nod against his chest, but it wasn’t good enough. “Talk to me angel, I need you to say it.”

You pulled back, tears streaming down your face, you looked up at Harry with a sniffle. “I… I’m.. it’s okay. You n–need to finish.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he takes your face in his hands, leaning in to kiss your tear stained cheeks before turning you to inspect the spot where you were hit. It was already starting to bruise, and there was some blood dripping down. He looked up at Pauli signaling for him to toss him a towel. He pressed it to your head gently as he tried to calm you down.

“You’re alright baby, I’m right here. I’m so sorry angel, I love you so much.” The words flew from his mouth rapidly, seemingly unaware that his nearby microphone was picking up on all of it.

Once you composed yourself, you reached beside you, grabbing your glasses that had fallen off when you hit the ground, and placing them back on your face. “Sorry Harry, you didn’t have to stop everything for me.”

“Of course I did,” he assured you. “You’re my girl, you come before anything, always.”

A wave of murmurs washed through the crowd at Harry’s words. Tens of thousands of people were all watching with rapt attention as he cared for you so tenderly, and professed his love for you. Their confusion and curiosity quickly turned into a chorus of ‘awwws’ when they watched Harry press his lips against yours.

The sound brought you both back into the moment, suddenly realizing that you were still onstage, and all eyes were on the two of you. Your face turned bright red, you quickly brought your hands up to cover it. Harry chuckled, pulling you close.

“I guess you’re about to get your deuxmoi debut, angel.” He joked.

“And tiktok, and twitter, and everything else.” You chuckle in response.

Harry pulled back so that he could look you in the eyes. “C’mon, let me walk you off and get you comfy, then I’ll come back and finish up here.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, I want to finish the show. I can do it.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, his tone thick with worry.

You nod and stand up, picking up your trumpet to show him you were fine. He shrugged, giving in to you. He knows how stubborn you are, it would be easier just to finish the show. He gets up as well, picking up his microphone with one hand, and taking your hand with the other, leading you to center stage.

“She’s okay!” He announced into the microphone, lifting your arm up in the air.

The crowd erupted, and you curtseyed shyly. You looked over to Harry, who was already looking at you, you could see the adoration in his eyes as he lifted your joined hands to his lips.

“Alright,” Harry returns his attention to the crowd. “Shall we try that one again?” The crowd cheered and Harry let go of your hand. When you turned to return to your spot onstage you jumped suddenly when you felt Harry’s hand playfully tap your backside. You shot him a wink over your shoulder and he smiled in response.

You waved off your fellow band members as they all asked if you were alright, and if you were sure you wanted to do this. You lifted your horn to your mouth, showing everyone that you were fine and ready to move on. The song began, and the rest of the show went off without a hitch, Harry continuing to look back at you, giving you questioning thumbs ups to ensure you were feeling alright, you returned them all with a wink.

You were alright, you were great even. You knew you didn’t need the validation or acknowledgement of his fans for your relationship to work, but it felt really nice to know you had it anyway.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x band member #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fluff #harry's house #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #love on tour #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot

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