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winxanity-ii · 2 months ago

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SACRILEGIOUS DEVOTION [1/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: So, Father Charlie is out here losing all his morals and sanity on Grotesquerie and my mind couldn't help but match it, so what's a better idea other than channeling all the religious trauma/journey into a spicy one-shot? i for one feel like it's a mini-therapy, but enough rambling, enjoy 😩🫶🏾 i'm in love with a holy man, mother 😔…. second part: 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 and final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Father Charlie Mayhew was a sick man.

Not in the manner of flesh, but of spirit. He could feel the sickness festering in the quiet corners of his heart, a sinful yearning that had taken root there, twisting itself around his thoughts like creeping ivy.

It was a sickness that, he believed, made him a grotesque parody of the holy man he was meant to be. For how could he call himself righteous, devoted, when every whisper of prayer felt stained by the way his eyes followed you, Sister ____?

You were a vision of purity, an embodiment of the kind of gentle devotion that Father Charlie envied and craved all at once.

He watched you from a distance, always careful not to draw your gaze, afraid of what you might see if you looked too deeply. How dutiful you were, sweeping the church aisle with a focus that made him forget the dust and see only the graceful motion of your hands.

The sun, filtered through stained glass, seemed to seek you out, casting colors on your habit as if to mark you as someone far beyond his grasp, almost holy in your mundane tasks.

It was in the mornings, when he heard the soft chime of your laughter in the courtyard as you fed the pigeons, that he felt the deepest sting of his wretchedness.

The world seemed simpler in those moments, your laughter echoing off the stone walls, the warmth of early sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. He wondered if you knew how your kindness drew even the animals to you, their heads dipping into your palms as if receiving communion.

There was a stillness to you, a gentleness in every gesture.

The worst of it was during your services. Father Charlie had seen you on your knees before, hands folded in earnest prayer, your lips moving softly as you whispered your devotion to God.

He would stand at the back of the chapel, watching with a mixture of awe and something far darker. He told himself it was admiration, but the truth festered beneath that facade.

It was longing, a hunger that ached at the edges of his soul.

A storm raged outside the convent one evening, winds battering the church walls with a fury that mirrored the tempest building in his chest. The clouds were bloated, dark as his thoughts, and thunder rolled across the sky with a violence that shook even the faith he held so dear.

You had come to his chambers in the dead of night, your knock barely audible over the howling wind. He had been preparing for bed, freshly out of the shower, wearing only his boxers when he heard you at the door.

The creak of the old wood seemed to echo forever as he opened it, and there you stood, eyes wide, looking so impossibly fragile in the dim candlelight of the corridor. Your modest night slip clung to your form, the thin fabric shifting in the draft that sneaked in from the hallway.

Charlie's breath had caught in his throat at the sight of you, innocence incarnate, seeking refuge with him.

He hesitated for only a moment before allowing you in, quickly wrapping himself in a silk robe that hung loosely on his shoulders, barely tied. He knew he should not let you enter, but there was something in the way you looked at him—so trusting, so devoted—that made him abandon every rational thought.

You had come asking to pray with him, your soft voice trembling as you spoke. The storm outside seemed like a reflection of the turmoil within him as he let you step past the threshold, closing the door behind you.

Now, you were here, kneeling before him, your eyes upturned and wide, waiting for his command, for his instruction like the obedient servant of God that you were.

Your soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, a gentle, "Father...?"

Charlie could only lament to himself how sinfully pure you looked. He hummed softly, his eyes dark as they trailed over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders, the delicate line of your neck.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across your skin, highlighting the innocence that made his hunger all the more unbearable.

"Yes, forgive me, Sister. Let us now pray," he finally said, his voice low and rough, the words nearly swallowed by the sound of the wind outside. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead, and you leaned into the touch without hesitation, your eyes closing as if his hand was a blessing.

He swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling deeper into the forbidden desires he had tried so desperately to keep buried.

He began to pray, his voice low, raspy, each word a struggle against the chaos inside him. "Heavenly Father, we come before you tonight..." But the words felt hollow, their meaning slipping away as he watched you, kneeling so obediently at his feet.

His eyes darkened, wandering further down, tracing the lines of your form. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath—it all seemed to pull him further from the sanctity of the moment.

He should have been thinking of God, of salvation, of the purity of the prayer—but instead, he was thinking of you, of the way the thin fabric clung to your skin, the soft curve of your breasts visible through the modest slip.

He licked his lips, his gaze fixed on the delicate line of your collarbone, the way it rose and fell with each breath you took.

The more he spoke, the less the words mattered. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, spreading through his body, his thoughts growing more erratic, each word of the prayer slipping further from its sacred meaning, twisting into something profane, something filthy. "Protect us from all evil..." he whispered as he traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, the words a bitter irony as he felt himself drawn further into the darkness of his desires.

His hand moved lower, fingers trailing down your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat. His touch was gentle, but there was a weight behind it, a hunger that he could no longer deny.

He could almost see the curve of your bare skin beneath the thin fabric, the outline of your body that he should not be imagining. He tried to focus on the prayer, but every word felt like a lie. He let out a shaky breath, the prayer faltering on his lips. "Guide us... guide us in your light," he managed, his voice thick with the weight of his longing.

The storm outside raged on, the wind howling as if to warn him, but Father Charlie could no longer hear it. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the rush of blood in his ears as he looked down at you, so trusting, so willing.

As the final words of the prayer fell from his lips—"Amen"—you echoed him, your voice soft and unwavering. You blinked open your eyes, looking up at him with such innocence and Charlie felt himself slip past the point of no return.

He knew that no amount of prayer could ever cleanse him of what he wanted, that he could no longer pretend, no longer fight against the pull that drew him to you—the sweet, precious nun who had unknowingly captured his very soul.

Father Charlie stood, his robe slipping slightly from his shoulders, exposing the toned muscle beneath. The wind howled outside, and thunder bellowed again, followed by a flash of lightning that lit the room in a brief, startling blaze of white.

You were still kneeling before him, your wide eyes following his every movement, the flickering light casting you in both shadow and radiance.

Charlie bent at the waist, his fingers reaching out to cup your jaw, thumb caressing your bottom lip as his half-lidded eyes trailed over your face. "Sister ____," he murmured, his voice dripping with a twisted kind of affection, his name for you almost reverent, as though you were something sacred, something he could worship in his own unholy way.

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath his touch, a soft stutter escaping your lips. "F-Father...?"

He grasped one of your hands, his fingers wrapping around yours, and as he stood, he gently urged you to rise with him. His gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and full of something raw. He began to speak, his voice barely more than a murmur, the words heavy with confession. "As a man of God, there are expectations placed upon me," he started, his tone wavering between remorse and something darker, something that made his grip on your hand tighten. "I am meant to guide, to protect, to remain steadfast in my faith."

His other hand moved, slowly pulling your trembling hand against his bare stomach, pressing your palm against the hard planes of his abdomen.

You gasped, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, your hand trembling beneath his. The heat of his skin burned into your palm, the muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Charlie continued, his voice lowering, growing more intense as he spoke. "But these days... these days, Sister, I find myself at war. At war with desires that threaten to consume me..." His words trailed off, and he let out a low hum as he rubbed your hand across his stomach, the movement slow, deliberate.

Your hand hesitated for a moment, the warmth of his skin making you tremble as you instinctively pulled back. But his grip was firm, guiding you back, and slowly, tentatively, your fingers splayed across his stomach, your touch feather-light.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering down before you took a timid step closer, as if drawn by some invisible force. Your gaze shifted to the side, your cheeks warming with embarrassment at the proximity, at the way you could feel his heart beating beneath your palm.

Father Charlie's eyes never left you, and he could see every ounce of hesitation, every flicker of uncertainty that danced across your face. He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your forehead as he spoke, his voice a low murmur, "There's no need to be afraid, Sister. You are safe here... with me."

You blinked, your lashes fluttering as you dared to look up at him, your eyes meeting his through the veil of uncertainty.

There was something in his gaze, something dark and magnetic that pulled at you, made your pulse race. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw; the touch almost comforting, but there was an intensity behind it that made you shiver.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice to speak, your fingers trembling slightly against his skin. He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips, and he hummed again, satisfied with your silent answer.

His other hand moved to rest against the small of your back, pulling you just a little bit closer, his robe parting further, exposing more of his chest.

Your breath hitched as you felt the distance between you closing, the way his body seemed to envelop yours. You could barely think, your mind clouded with the storm of emotions and the strange, electric pull you felt toward him.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he watched you. You felt your pulse quicken, your knees weakening under the intensity of his gaze.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and something darker, something that made your heart pound even harder. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body react, leaning in just slightly, as if craving more of his warmth, his touch.

His fingers trailed lower, coaxing your hand along his body, and you felt the tension, the desire in every muscle. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a husky whisper, "Let me show you, Sister ____... let me show you what devotion truly means."

He kissed you then, his lips crashing against yours like a man starved. His mouth moved hungrily, tasting, devouring, and you felt his tongue lick into your mouth, coaxing a soft, surprised whimper from your throat. His groan vibrated against your lips, the sound raw and desperate.

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the sheer need in his kiss.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your lips tingling from the force of his kiss. He didn't give you a moment to recover; his lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

He nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, to make your knees weaken beneath you. The heat of his mouth trailed down, his tongue flicking out to soothe each small bite, and you felt your body trembling, a warmth pooling low in your belly.

Charlie's hands were relentless, holding you steady as your body threatened to give out, your knees buckling as his mouth worked against your skin. He pulled back only long enough to whisper your name, his voice thick with something between reverence and hunger.

Before you knew it, he had scooped you up, his arms strong and sure as he carried you towards his bed. Your breath hitched, your fingers clinging to his robe as he moved, each step filled with purpose.

He set you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His eyes roamed over you, dark and filled with desire, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Father Charlie moved quickly, his hands deft as he pushed your slip off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your skin and pooling around your waist. His lips followed the path of the falling slip, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your shoulders, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

You shivered beneath his touch, the cool air of the room prickling at your exposed skin, your nipples pebbling in response.

His eyes darkened at the sight of you, and he let out a low groan, his hands running along your bare arms, feeling the way you trembled beneath him. "You're like a goddess," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and lust. "Perfect. Untouched. A temptation I can't resist." His lips found your collarbone, kissing, nipping, his words vibrating against your skin.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, trailing down the center of your chest, his hands spreading across your back, urging you to arch into him. His kisses were relentless, each one making your breath catch, making your body react in ways that felt both unfamiliar and thrilling.

You couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, unsure of what to do, where to touch.

Charlie pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze filled with hunger. He pushed you back against the bed, guiding you to lie down, his hands never leaving your body, his touch possessive, as if he couldn't bear to be without contact. He looked down at you, splayed out before him, your slip barely covering you, and he licked his lips, his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin.

"Look at you," he whispered, his voice dripping with a mix of adoration and hunger. "So innocent, so pure... and all mine." He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands working the slip further down your body, baring you completely to him.

The cool air made you shiver, your body exposed, vulnerable, and you couldn't help the way your legs shifted, instinctively trying to close.

Charlie's hands moved to your knees, gently but firmly pushing them apart, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your reaction. His lips moved from your mouth, trailing down your jaw to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as he groaned against you.

He pulled the slip away entirely, tossing it aside, his hands roaming over your bare skin, mapping every inch as though he were committing you to memory. "You are... perfection," he muttered, his voice strained, filled with a hunger that made your breath hitch.

His lips moved lower, trailing down your body, leaving a heated path across your chest, your stomach, and further down. His hands were strong, keeping your legs pinned open to the bed, his fingers pressing into your thighs with a possessive hold. He kissed along your inner thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin, making you shiver, anticipation coiling in your belly.

You instinctively tried to scoot back, to move away as you felt his breath getting closer to your core, but Charlie's grip tightened, his hands holding you firmly in place. He looked up at you, his eyes dark, almost predatory, as he whispered, "Stay still, Sister... let me worship you."

He breathed you in, a deep, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if savoring the scent of you, and then he leaned in, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.

A squeal, half surprise and half pleasure, escaped your lips, your back arching slightly off the bed.

Father Charlie's tongue moved with a purpose, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. His hands kept your legs spread, his grip firm and unyielding as he worked his mouth against you, his groans vibrating against your core.

He was relentless, his mouth moving with a hunger that made your head spin, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to ground yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you.

You could feel his smooth skin against your inner thighs, the sensation only adding to the overwhelming pleasure that built inside you. His tongue moved in slow, teasing circles, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against you, his eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

The sight of you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath—only seemed to spur him on, his groans growing louder as he tasted you.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hips bucking against his mouth, a whimper slipping from your lips. Charlie's hands moved to hold your hips down, pinning you to the bed as he continued, his tongue delving into you, his nose brushing against your clit as he worked, utterly consumed by the taste of you.

He was lost in it, in you, his tongue moving faster, his mouth desperate as he devoured you.

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, your body trembling beneath him. The heat built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter, until you felt like you might break apart. His name fell from your lips, a breathless plea, and he groaned in response, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body ready to fall apart under his touch.

Your first orgasm washed over you without warning, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you feeling weightless, your entire body trembling as you came undone beneath him. You melted into the bed like butter, your limbs going limp as the intensity of it left you breathless.

Charlie's mouth moved against you with a fervent hunger, drinking in every bit of your release as if it were the most sacred offering.

A small whimper escaped your lips as the sensation grew overwhelming, your body growing sensitive to his touch. He didn't stop, his tongue moving lazily, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you, his mouth still savoring you.

Your grip on his head shifted, your fingers now pushing at him, trying to get him to stop, but his hands only gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you in place. "W-Wait..." The heat in your stomach was already starting to build again, the slow, deliberate movements of his tongue igniting another fire deep within you.

Charlie groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, his face buried even further between your legs, his tongue relentless.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, your body trembling once more as the pleasure built. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your mind spinning as you tried to form words, but all that left your throat were broken, incoherent sounds—static that filled the room as you babbled.

You tried to scoot back, to move away from the overwhelming sensation, but Charlie's strong arms wrapped around your hips, yanking you back down, his grip unyielding. His own hips pressed into the bedding below, his desperation evident as he devoured you.

You teetered on the edge once more, the pleasure too much, too intense, until it finally broke over you again, your body arching, your mind going completely blank as you came undone a second time.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on you, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming ecstasy that left you gasping for air.

As you came down from your high, your body trembling, Father Charlie finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening. He stared up at you with dark, lidded eyes, his expression filled with hunger, with desire that seemed insatiable.

There was no hesitation, no regret—only a raw need that made it clear he no longer cared about going against his vows, no longer cared about the priesthood or what was right.

All that mattered to him was you.

A/N: i'm sorry, i just watched Grotesquerie last night and i've become obssessed.... ugh, the tension between father charlie and sister megan is just *chefs kiss* it's clear that megan is obviously meant to be y/n and the screenplay was written in the intent of it being catered to the female gaze because wheeeeww 😩...

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whis--ker · 1 year ago

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about to pass out post like a dog wip

#rambling in tags #vocal synth #synthv #not gonna tag asterian because he's barely audible LMAO #hhggghhhhh the lows and harms scratch my brain so so so hard #i might have to put a filter on asterian so he doesn't sound out of place with teto's lows tho #sorry for rambling aha

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latenightreadingpdf · 25 days ago

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Spencer's Secret - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: All Spencer wanted was to finish his paperwork and go home, but now he’s in a bar, drunk, and confessing all his secrets to Derek.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The team had barely settled back into the office after a grueling case when Derek threw an arm over Emily’s shoulder, talking about needing a drink. Emily agreed with a weary smile, and soon enough, JJ, Penelope, and Rossi had chimed in, all eager to unwind together. Somehow, they’d even managed to convince Hotch, who gave them a reluctant nod, his rare smile hinting he could use a break too.

All that was left was Spencer. Sitting at his desk, he was hunched over, diligently finishing up his paperwork, when Derek strolled over and leaned in with his usual, "Hey, pretty boy."

Spencer looked up, already anticipating the question. "No, Derek, I’m not going."

Derek raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "I didn’t even get to ask!"

"Doesn’t matter. I’m not going," Spencer replied firmly, looking back down at his files.

"Come on, kid," Derek urged, his voice dropping to a softer, pleading tone. "Just this once. If you come, I’ll never ask again. I swear."

Spencer let out a sigh, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him. There was a beat of silence as he mulled it over, glancing at the hopeful faces of his teammates nearby. Finally, he closed his file, resigned. "Fine," he muttered, “but just this once."

Derek’s face broke into a grin, practically bouncing on his feet. "You heard him, guys—he’s in! Let’s go before he changes his mind."

Spencer reluctantly stood up, pulling on his coat with a sigh. He glanced around, noticing the others already gathering their things, excitement buzzing among them. As they all filed out together, Penelope slung an arm around Spencer, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

"Oh, Spence, you’ll have fun. Trust me," she said, winking.

Spencer managed a small, hesitant smile, wondering just what he was getting himself into. It wasn’t exactly his ideal night out, but surrounded by his friends, he couldn’t help but feel a faint sense of anticipation growing despite himself.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As soon as the team settled into the bar, the weight of the last case started to fade. They ordered the first round, eager to drink, laugh, and let loose for a few hours. The drinks flowed freely, and soon they were deep in conversation, sharing old stories and laughing harder with each passing round. Spencer, who rarely drank, was feeling more than a little tipsy. Nights like these weren’t really his scene—he usually found it far more comfortable to stay home. But now, with the warm buzz in his head and his friends around, he was actually enjoying himself.

Meanwhile, Derek had been off flirting at the bar, but eventually made his way back to the booth, where Spencer was the last one still sitting. Derek, who could hold his liquor well, was only slightly buzzed. He noticed Spencer's dazed expression and grinned, sliding into the seat next to him. "Pretty boy," he said, nudging him, "there are so many gorgeous women here tonight. You should go try and have some fun, maybe even get a date."

Spencer, a little too drunk to filter his thoughts, shook his head. "Don’t need a date," he said, his words slurring slightly.

Derek raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh yeah? And why’s that?"

Spencer’s face softened, and he blurted, “I��ve got an amazing girlfriend at home.”

"Right, sure," Derek teased, not at all convinced. "So what’s her name?"

Spencer’s face lit up. "Y/N," he said, his voice full of adoration. He leaned in, eyes dreamy, and started rambling. “She’s incredible, Derek. So smart, so beautiful. She’s way out of my league—I still can’t believe she’s with me.”

Derek chuckled, noticing just how drunk Spencer was. It was getting late, and he knew Spencer would never make it home on his own. “Why don’t you call Y/N to pick you up, then?” he said, jokingly.

Spencer’s face brightened, and he fumbled for his phone. Derek watched in amusement as he dialed, still skeptical, until he heard a faint “Hello?” from the other end.

Spencer’s face lit up even more. “Hello, my love,” he said, voice thick with affection.

You let out a soft laugh on the other side of the line. “Hey, Spence! Everything alright?”

Spencer grinned, completely forgetting why he’d called. “Yeah,” he said dreamily. “I just…wanted to hear your pretty voice.”

You laughed, clearly touched. Derek, now genuinely surprised that someone had actually answered, took the phone from Spencer, holding it up to his ear. "Hello?" he asked, still a bit skeptical.

"Uh, hi,” you replied, a little confused. “Who is this?"

Derek cleared his throat. “This is Derek. Spencer friend.”

“Oh! Nice to finally meet you, Derek, Spencer talks about you and the team quite a bit.” you said, sounding amused. “I’m Y/N, his girlfriend.”

Derek muttered, “Holy shit, you’re real.”

"Sorry?" you asked, sounding puzzled.

“Nothing, nothing,” he chuckled. “Listen, Spencer’s had a bit too much to drink. Are you able to pick him up?”

You let out a soft, understanding laugh. “Yeah, of course. Just tell me where you guys are.”

Derek gave you the address and hung up, handing the phone back to Spencer. "Your girlfriend’s coming to get you," he said, still slightly in awe that Spencer’s been hiding a girlfriend from them.

Spencer’s eyes lit up even more. “Y/N?” he asked eagerly.

“Yeah, pretty boy, Y/N,” Derek replied, shaking his head with a grin.

Spencer slumped back in his seat with a satisfied sigh. “Finally,” he mumbled. “Someone cool to hang out with.”

Derek just laughed, patting Spencer on the shoulder. He sat down with Spencer and waited with him for Y/N to get there, eager to meet her.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

As Spencer was still happily rambling to Derek about his incredible girlfriend, the door opened, and a beautiful woman stepped into the bar. Spencer’s eyes widened instantly. "Y/N!" he exclaimed, jumping up so quickly he nearly tripped. He stumbled over to you, practically throwing himself into your arms, clinging to you like he’d just found his lifeline. He buried his face in your neck, a contented sigh escaping him.

You wrapped your arms around him, laughing softly at his drunken enthusiasm. "Looks like someone had a good time," you teased, rubbing his back.

“Missed you so much,” he mumbled into your neck, his words muffled but unmistakably fond.

Looking up, you noticed a man standing a few steps behind Spencer, observing the two of you with an amused grin. "You must be Derek," you said, offering him a warm smile.

Derek smiled back, giving a nod. "Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you tonight."

Before you could respond, Spencer had already started tugging you gently toward the exit. You glanced back at Derek and gave him a quick smile. "Hopefully we can actually talk sometime soon," you said, laughing as Spencer clung to your arm.

Derek chuckled, nodding. "I’d like that. Take care of him. Goodnight, Y/N."

He watched as you guided a tipsy, lovesick Spencer out of the bar, a soft smile still on his face. Just then, Penelope popped up beside him, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “What are you staring at?” she asked, following his gaze to the exit.

“Spencer’s got a girlfriend,” Derek said, unable to keep a little laugh from escaping as he recalled the whole scene.

Penelope’s eyes went wide, and she gasped, practically bouncing in place. "Wait, what?! Our Spencer? Oh my God, I need details!"

Derek smirked, shaking his head. "Calm down, babygirl. You can interrogate him tomorrow," he teased.

Penelope pouted, but the excitement was already building. After a second, she sighed dramatically, then brightened up again and grabbed Derek’s hand. “Fine! But right now, you’re dancing with me.”

Derek let her pull him to the dance floor, chuckling as he made a mental note to tease Spencer about this night for a long time.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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eupheme · 3 months ago

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— drive me crazy

[part ii of trouble will find me] | [masterlist]

bodyguard!logan x mobster’s daughter!reader

rated e - 4.6k

tags: 70s era, dofp/bonedaddy!logan, bodyguard!logan, reader is the daughter of a mobster, multiple pov, flirting, forbidden relationship, masturbation, light panty kink, poor professional relationships, making out, car oral (m) sex, come swallowing

It’s a bad idea to get involved with your bodyguard, you both know that. But you certainly don’t care, not after knowing how he feels inside you. Leaving you wanting more.

And with the way he watches you, you think Logan must feel the same. So when an opportunity arises where you’re left alone in the limo - you can’t help nudging at him, once more.

It’s worth the extra ten minutes of discomfort to see the shocked look on your face when he leaves you at your door.

The held breath that turns into a pout when he leans close, only to open the handle behind you. A tilt of his head - a silent command that you enter.

You move past the threshold - only for your frown to deepen, when he lingers in the doorway.

“Aren’t you going to come in?” It’s soft, and he ignores the way it makes his cock twitch.

Logan’s arms cross over his chest, a lift of his brow.

“Got what you wanted, didn’t you?” He points out, “Said you’d listen.”

Your mouth drops open in indignation and for a brief moment, he imagines what you offered him.

Imagines slipping his fingers against your tongue again - the warm and wet suck, the press of lips that he now knows are so fucking soft.

“I wanted you.”

He almost expects you to stamp your foot.

“Already told you, sweetheart.” Logan steps back, fingers curling around the knob. The door swinging shut, with the murmur of his voice, “‘s not a good idea.”

Not looking back, as he takes the path to his room.

Not about to admit that you’ve always had him.

Logan’s barely kicked off his boots, flopped down onto the bed before the goddamn phone is ringing.

He debates not answering it - something far more pressing on his mind. But he knows it will only end with a knock on his door, and an even greater inconvenience.

“Yes?” It’s barked into the receiver.

Cradled against his ear, as a hand snakes down to palm himself. Fingers yanking at the silver buckle, loosening his belt.

A sharp voice answers, not bothering with a greeting.

They both know who it is.

“Late night. Shouldn’t you be back already?”

Logan fucking hates the check-ins. Another notch tightening in the collar, already wound around his throat.

“She felt like staying out.” It’s gritted out - just barely managing to filter out the heavy edge of annoyance.

“It’s your job to keep an eye on her-”

Bodyguard. Not a babysitter.

It’s on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down. His hand fishing into his pocket instead - tugging out the lace as your father rambles on about the importance of an early morning for whatever bullshit breakfast you’re getting dragged off to tomorrow.

An inhale, as he presses your panties against his nose. His groan near-silent, mind wandering back to the feeling of you coming around his fingers.

“-Logan. You listening?”

He bites back the growl, “Yes, sir. Early start tomorrow.”

The honorific is acid on his tongue - but if it gets your pathetic excuse of a father off the phone, he’ll endure it.

Only needs a thousand more bucks to get his bike out of the impound. A couple more to make the repairs and settle his debt - and then he is out of there.

Logan slams the receiver down the second he’s dismissed. A lift of his hips, shoving down his jeans. Not bothering to fully kick them off - he’ll do that later.

Too focused on the ache. A rumbled-out groan when his hand wraps around his cock, a rough thumb smearing the precum across the tip.

Inhaling you again, as he starts to stroke. It surrounds him, the soft musk that clings to the fabric. To his palm, where to you leaked against his skin - a low jolt in his belly, as he finally takes care of himself.

A sweep of his tongue against the gusset. It’s fucking filthy - how he laps at your arousal like a dog, but no one has to fucking know but him.

Hips rocking up to match the jerk of his fist. It’s all too dry. Impossible to imagine the soft clutch of your cunt when all he has is the calloused texture of his palm.

How wet you were, and he barely had even touched you. How you practically begged for him to fuck you, offered to get on your pretty little knees for him.

Logan’s breath hitches, air inhaled through clenched teeth. Only a heartbeat passing before he’s wrapping the scrap of lace around his cock.

Smearing himself with spit and your slick. Teeth bared as his fist curls around the head - on another night, he’d be annoyed about how fucking close he is already.

That it’s a little bit pathetic, what he’s doing.

But right now, he’s only thinking about you.

Picturing the way he’d fit in your mouth, how your lips would wrap around him. The pinch of your eyes as you struggle to take him - he knows you’d try.

That you love a challenge, and it only makes his cock jump in his hand.

Doing this so he doesn’t stomp right down the hall, shoulder your door open. Fuck you into the mattress, hard enough that he’d see your legs wobbling the next day.

Doesn’t need the mess in his life, shit is complicated enough as is. Just needs to keep his dick in his pants long enough to get his bike fixed, and get out of here.

Doesn’t need to stir things up by fucking the bosses daughter, either. He’d endure what was thrown at him, he always had, but to take on a mob family just for a girl-

The pressure mounts, coiling tight. His eyes half-lidded, lips parted as the air hissed between his teeth.

Again, and again. His mind fixed on You, you, you - and then he’s there - something ragged caught in his throat as he spills with a grunt against the lace. Soaking the fabric with each pump of his fist, wringing out his orgasm as it scorches through him.

Just barely able to hold back the sharp poke of bones between his knuckles, threatening to tear through skin.

Leaving him panting, eyes fixed on the ceiling above. His conviction leaches from him, because Logan is now certain of one thing - as his chest heaves.

Your underwear is a mess - the fabric stained dark, where he’s already soaking in.

He’s fucked.

It’s been four days of Logan doing everything to avoid being alone with you - all while being closer than he’s ever been.

Conversations are short. Gritted out, all while the familiar weight of his gaze still settles on you. Logan’s constant steady presence as the days pass, hip cocked as he watches from the corner of a room.

That mark between his brow deepening, as if he’s trying to settle something in his mind.

It’s maddening.

How he’s trying to convince himself of what he told you. Betrayed by the moments when you come together. A hand at your back to guide you through the door in front of him, his palm dipping low.

The jolt that rocks through you, an inhale that surely he must hear, when he passes you something in the dining room that you couldn’t quite reach - fingers brushing.

Orbiting around each other, neither one quite daring to move first.

The hunger that simmers, when his eyes are not hidden away.

Even now you can feel them.

Dark eyes behind gold-tinted sunglasses. A lean as he waits - the buttons on his dress shirt popped, thighs spread as he fills the corner of the bench in the foyer.

Could swear you see them narrow, when you glance his way. Half-way across the room, a distance that’s become familiar when the house is quiet.

Unable to let your eyes dip, for just a second. Down to linger at the dark shadow of hair at his chest, and then to the tight pull of his trousers.

The edges of his lips curl, when he catches you. A lift of his hips, as his thighs inch wider.

Impossible.

A sniff, as you pivot - facing away from him.

It’s not that he turned you down. Or that he seems set on taunting you.

And you’re not pouting - just licking your wounds.

You know it’s a bad idea. Just for once - you find yourself not caring. Stuck in a loop, as you try to figure out if he thinks the same.

What this game he’s playing means.

A little shake of your head to clear your thoughts - there’s Better things to think about, after all.

Things definitely more important than the way his mouth felt on yours. The way his fingers stretched you out - how full he made you feel.

How you haven’t been able to come close, with your own. Working between your thighs, only to feel a weak echo compared to tremor that wracked through your core at his touch.

It’s definitely not what you’re thinking about now - eyes drifting over the program for tonight’s dinner. Another charity event, where you’ll be paraded in front of countless socialites and politicians.

All in the pocket of your family. In your father’s.

The apple of his eye. Another reminder of a good daughter you are, to support him like this.

A leg jiggling as you wait, one crossed over the other. Waiting for your driver, but as time ticks by, it becomes evident that Johnny seems nowhere to be found.

The jiggle becomes a tap of your foot. Impatience lacing through you, adding to the keyed-up feelings you’ve carried since the club.

A hallway door opens - there’s a hushed murmur, as one of your father’s men greets Logan.

You let yourself look, while he’s distracted. A brief reprieve, letting yourself want.

He looks good. The shirt pulls tight across his chest. A jacket laid out on the bench beside him, a tie jammed into the pocket. Cleans up nice, and you have to remind yourself that he’s not doing this for you.

Just part of the job.

Quick to bury yourself in your notes again, when he stretches - crossing the room.

“Come on.” His head tilts, expression hidden behind the glasses, “I’m driving you.”

You stand, but your feet stay rooted in place, “Where’s Johnny?”

Logan sighs, hands on his hips, “Listen, kid. Do you want a ride or what?”

That gets you moving. Crossing the last few steps in front of him, your hands mirroring Logan’s as you peer up at him.

“Kid? What happened to honey?” You coo, as your head tilts, “Or baby?”

His jaw works, tongue trapped between the sharp edge of his teeth. A scowl that’s visible even through the frame of his glasses.

“Just get in the fucking car.”

The ride is short, when Logan’s driving. A short temper and a lead foot do a lot in the busy New York traffic.

You end up early, the limo idling in the parking garage beneath the hotel. Tucked away in a back corner as Logan argues with one of the attendants - or you assume, with the way his lips pull back over his teeth.

The sharp gesture of his hands, one lifting to rake through his hair, messing up the tufts.

Before he opens the door, leaning against it.

It’s unfair the way it frames him - shins to chest, your head turning so you don’t stare.

“They’re still getting set up.” Logan growls, “Guess we’re early. Said they need another thirty minutes, at least. Maybe an hour.”

He leans then, a lift of his brow as he waits for your call.

You can think of a lot of ways to pass the time. But you’re not about to voice any to him.

Going elsewhere - a cafe, even back home - feels pointless. Not enough time to do anything meaningful, not with how you’re already dressed so nicely for the dinner - an elegant dress, heeled shoes. Makeup and hair done just the way you like it.

Your shoulder lifts. “I’m fine waiting.”

Logan fixes you with a long look, as you drag out your bag - root through it for your planner. Making notes as the door closes.

Muffled conversation, before he’s climbing back into the driver’s seat.

Your eyes meet twice in the rearview mirror, as the radio plays, winding through sounds. Stevie Nicks, The Stones, Elton John.

The drum of his fingers against the steering wheel, to a tune that only he can hear. Logan’s cigar and lighter are still tucked in the back console, from the last time you were in the limo.

If he wants it, he can come get it himself.

But he has more willpower than you, even if his patience wears thin. The music bumped up, when one of your legs crossed over the other.

Inches of fabric tugged up at your thigh, baring skin.

That weight settles over you again, though his head does not turn your way.

Eventually - you cannot help but to voice the question you’ve been carrying. To slice through the silence and tension, thick in the air.

“Are you going to give them back?”

That gets his attention - the slightest turn of his head. The flicker of an eye that dips across your legs, so quickly you almost miss it.

“Give what back?” He rasps, and your eyes roll.

“You know what, Logan.”

There’s the slight narrowing of his eyes, the barest hint of a smirk, “Mm. Don’t think I do, princess.”

The teasing nickname sinks into your skin, curling in your belly. He’s going to make you say it - spell it out for him.

You don’t have the same level of bravado bolstered by soft hum of alcohol in your veins, but you still know that something changed, that night in the club.

Your teeth grit, but you hold his gaze, “My panties.”

“That’s what you call those?” His eyebrow arches - a hint of a dimple, “Wasn’t much there, sweetheart.”

The low husk of his voice weaves through you, sending your nerves alight. Encouraged by the back-and-forth volley - how he shifts, granting you his full profile.

“Well, they’re my favorite,” You push - arms crossing just beneath your chest, and you swear his eyes dip again, “What do you need them for, anyways?”

His laugh fills the space - rough and low as it drifts back to you.

“Your favorite, huh?” The peek of his tongue between his teeth - avoiding your question, “You’re telling me that’s what you wear under all those pretty dresses?”

For a long moment, you hold his gaze.

A shift of your hips, as your legs uncross. Letting your knees spread - thighs falling open for the briefest second.

Letting him have a peek at the red silk beneath, before you primly cross your ankles, tucking them against the seat. Your voice pitching low, sweet as honey.

“Come back here and find out.”

His jaw ticks.

For a moment, you think you’ve pushed too far. A lead weight left behind, as the embers in your belly start to snuff out.

But then, there’s the gritted out “fuck it”, as he moves.

The car goes silent, as his keys slip from the ignition. The creak of the car door - it feels like it takes him an age to cross the steps from the driver’s seat, back to you.

Anticipation palpable, as the door opens. As he folds himself into the backseat - so different than the times before.

Now, he crowds your space - caging you in. Making up for the days he’s spent apart.

Despite the seats in front you of the space feels small with him in it, your pulse spiking as the door is tugged shut behind him.

A heartbeat passes, before you’re meeting him - closing the space. His back pressed against the blue velvet as his hands find your waist, guiding you to him.

Your own tugging at the fabric of your dress - rucking it up to your thighs so you can straddle him. Shins pressing into the seat, as you press down flush against him.

There’s the click of the door lock, before his mouth tips to yours. A rough sound in his throat as you pick up where you left off - your hands smoothing over the soft fabric of his dress shirt, up to his shoulders.

His slipping from your waist down to your ass. Palming you, tugging you closer until your core rocks against the front of his jeans.

A hand slipping to cup the back of your head. Keeping you close as a tongue licks across your lower lip, then further when you part. Swallowing your moan as heat floods through you, as you let him deepen the kiss.

As you feel how he stiffens beneath you, trousers pulling tight as your core nudges against the thick curve.

“You need it that bad, baby?” Logan rasps, as you inhale a breath, “Makin’ it really fucking hard to do my job.”

Chasing your mouth, bringing it back to his. It makes you smile, the way he groans when you grind down.

“Supposed to be keeping an eye on me,” You coo, “Doesn’t this make it easier?”

There’s an inhaled breath between clenched teeth, “Not when I’m too busy looking at you. Driving me crazy, sweetheart.”

Fingers trace against your bare thighs. Beneath the hem of your dress as you moan. The pad of his thumb ghosting against your slit again, low hum as you whine his name.

Letting your hands wander. Tracing over the bulge in his pants. Your palm flattening against him, fingers mapping the curves.

He growls out a soft warning, “Don’t start what you can’t finish, princess.”

The rough tone of his voice makes you shiver, your fingers flexing, “Should be saying that to you.”

There’s the peek of his teeth as he grins, voice pitching lower.

“Just trying to warn you, honey.” He croons, “I'm the best there is at what I do, and what I do best isn't very nice.”

Your mouth finds his jaw, as your fingernails tap against the silver buckle, “I know. Why do you think my father hired you?”

He makes a rough noise in his throat, when you tug at his shirt, fingers skating against the bare skin beneath.

“That what this about?” There’s a sharp edge to his voice now, as your eyes flick back up, “You tryin’ to get back at daddy?”

That makes you scowl. Fingers stilling as your eyebrow arches - pushing yourself back so you can fix him with a look, “What do you think?”

His lips are parted, breath heavy. Those hazel eyes darkened with lust, as he traces the edge of your panties. Slipping beneath soaked-through fabric, tracing against your slick folds.

“No,” He rasps, “She’s beggin’ for it. Isn’t that right?”

A smirk that turns sharp, as your lips press to his. Mumbled against your mouth, “Know this is all for me.”

“For you.” You agree, as he circles your clit. A slow pressure of his fingers, as your hips cant into his touch.

Need pulses inside you, low in your belly. That urge to taste him battling with the desire to rut against his fingers. See if he’ll give you more, like last time.

All too aware of the minutes that tick down. That you’re running on borrowed time, not enough left to do everything you want.

“Don’t tease, Logan.” You whine, when he keeps up the slow swipe against your skin.

“Tease?” He laughs, tongue peeking out against his lips, “You were the one trying to take someone home. Did you already forget?”

“S not how it went',” You pant, “I remember telling you I didn’t want him.”

He hums, eyes flicking down to the wet peek of your pussy, “Mm, and I remember how sweet you felt coming around my fingers.”

“That, too,” Your breath hitches, “And I remember saying I’d get on my knees for you.”

“Is that what you want?” Logan’s eyes darken, “Still want a taste, baby?”

There’s a whine caught between your teeth. Nodding, as you carefully slip off of his lap and down to the floor, arranging your skirts around you - settling between thighs that inch wider.

Watching the way his hand drops to palms himself, the rough “fuck” that slips from him that sends your heart racing.

Logan’s always been a big man, but he looks massive when you’re on your knees. The carpet scratches against your shins as you shift - eyes already greedy, fixed on the thick curve you had rubbed yourself on.

Watching the slow flex of his fingers - the glint of silver on his belt buckle.

The slow unzipping of his trousers, and you swear your mouth waters as all that skin comes into view. Nothing beneath but the dark trail of hair.

And for the briefest second your eyes flicker out the tinted windows. An unconscious check towards the door set into the parking garage wall, checking before you allow yourself this.

“Hey. You’ve got time, baby.” He coos - bringing you back, “I’ll keep watch. Keep your eyes right here for me.”

And they do - dropping back down without thought.

His cock still trapped beneath the fabric, but you can see the vein that travels down from his abdomen, the heavy curve that finally springs free when he lifts his hips.

You can barely bite back the moan of want, your eyes widening. He felt thick beneath your palm but it’s nothing compared to now. The heavy bob of his cock - velvet soft skin that flushes at the glossy tip.

How his fingers curl around, the lazy flick of his wrist as you shift in front of him. The slight sway as your head follows, a deep flutter in your thoughts as you wonder just how much you’ll be able to take.

Underestimating, in your daydreams. Your lips eagerly parting, as you lean forward.

His tongue clicks.

“Greedy girl.” Logan coos, “Hold on. Thought you said you wanted me to show you.”

At your moan he shifts, thighs spreading. Voice pitching low.

“Open.”

Your head tilts - offering your mouth, letting your tongue rest against your teeth.

Letting him feed his cock to you - tasting the salt that leaks from the head, when it taps against your lip. The low groan that shoots right through you, as he inches into your mouth.

“That’s it.” He husks, “You can take it.”

Your eyes are fixed on his as your jaw opens wider, as he sinks further inside. Fingernails biting into your palms as you try to listen.

“Pretty fuckin’ mouth,” Logan pants, “Good girl.”

A stifled groan, as your head bobs. The eye contact breaking as yours flutter shut, lips closing around him as you start to suck.

You can hear each of his breaths like this, in the quiet car. Rough murmurs of something sweet, held back between clenched teeth.

“Keep going, sweetheart.” He coaxes, thick fingers leaving marks in the velvet - grooves that your own will trace later, on the way home.

Resisting the urge to bury them in your hair, to urge you down the rest of the way. To palm at your tits, wrinkling the pretty fabric.

Letting you explore on your own. Letting him slip down your throat until tears prick in your eyes.

That thin sense of the outside world still keeps you tethered. The mutual knowledge that he can’t use you like you’d both like - until spit drips down your chin, messy and slick, from where it pools on your tongue.

You’re content to trace each vein, instead. To feel the weight as you suck - eyes opening to gauge his expression when your hands finally slip up.

Once bracing on a thigh, the other curling around his base. Stroking what doesn’t quite fit, as he sucks air in through his teeth.

He’s handsome, always. Beautiful like this - eyes burning in the beam of vapor lamp light that streaks through. The pinch of his furrowed brow, but so unlike you’ve seen before.

Looks like he wants to devour you. To tug you up to his lap, bury himself in your wet cunt instead.

You wish he would - another squirm as your thighs press together.

“Feels so good, baby.” Logan rasps. There’s a shallow lift of his hips now. Chasing the rhythm of your hand, the soft suck of your mouth.

The muscles in his thigh flexing beneath your palm, filth slipping from him as he chases the building pressure in his belly.

“God, I want to fuck you,” It’s growled out, and you whine with want, “Been dreaming about tasting you again.”

Again. The taste of your slick on his fingers, pressing against your tongue as he kissed you. An image of his face between your thighs sends a dull throb of need, as you moan around him.

Logan inhales, as you start to speed up, “Know you need it, honey. Bet you’re soaked through, aren’t you?”

Another whine buzzes around his cock, as he groans, “Take care of you tonight. I’ll, fuck-”

His fingers nudge yours out of the way, fisting around his cock. The other catching your chin, easing you off him. A string of spit connecting you, until it breaks.

“Shit.” He hisses out, as the tip bobs against your parted lips, “Keep just like that, princess.”

Logan’s thumb presses at your chin, as if there’s anything that would make your move.

Too focused on the way his eyes glint. Honey-gold in the stream of artificial light. The hiss of breath when your tongue peeks out further.

“Gonna take it all, won’t you?” He husks. Tone almost desperate, “Nice and wide now, don’t wanna mess you up.”

You know he’s thinking about it, you’ve thinking about it as well. Running mascara and a lipstick-smeared mouth.

There’s a rough groan that almost passes as your name, as his hips hitch. Muscles flexing as he spills white ropes across your tongue, with a ragged moan.

“Good fucking girl.”

Your eyes keep on his, as he jerks himself empty. Letting his release pools on your tongue - a soft groan as he shifts, slipping his cock deeper into your mouth.

Eyes finally closing as you suck, his thumb leaving your chin to catch the start of a drop, smearing it across your lip and back between them.

Feeling how you swallow around him. Tongue teasing at his slit, until you’ve taken every drop.

“Fuck, baby.” He breathes.

The tension weighs heavy, as your mouth slides from his.

Logan’s mouth is just beginning to tip towards yours - when there’s the slam of the side door.

A mutually shared expression, as you begin to scramble.

Your time is up.

He stalls for you.

Grilling the head of security for as long as he can - lip curled as he runs through a list of questions, the picture of professional concern.

It’s all bullshit - they don’t know what they’re doing. Not that it matters - he won’t be more than an arms-length away from you for the rest of the night.

His fingers tugging at his tie, knotted quickly and too tightly for comfort. The puff of smoke through his cigar, snatched as he slipped from the backseat.

Unable to help the tilt of his head when you slip from the backseat of the limo - his hand already extended to help you out.

A low throb behind his ribs at the smile you flash his way.

Never would have guessed that his cock was just down your throat, if he hadn’t known better. That you’d taste like him.

All the evidence neatly tucked away. Hair tidied, your dress tugged back into place.

But there’s little things he catches.

A fresh swipe of gloss over your slightly-puffy lips. The color matching the sticky ring around the base of his cock, one that will linger for hours.

Pupils that still are blown wide and dark. The arousal that clings to you like perfume, heady and sweet.

The way your eyes flick over him, hungry. A fleeting second before you’re pulled back into your world - a practiced smile curving your lips.

“Showtime.” You mutter as you take his arm. Following, as he leads you inside, “How do I look?”

The edges of his lips pull up, his voice a low murmur - something just for you to hear.

“Beautiful.”

thank you so much for reading! I keep getting little ideas for them, so I think this is going to be another mini-series (with 4 currently planned parts in total) 💖

#logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #logan howlett x you #wolverine smut #logan howlett #james logan howlett x reader #xmen x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett x f!reader

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hoshifighting · 4 months ago

Note

Hey I want to ask if you could do seventeen talking during sex like not during an orgams but just like you know sex please and thank you 💖

how seventeen talks to you during sex

seungcheol is not much of a taaalker during sex, but when he does speak... is all about control, he wants you to be following every single orders he asks. “stay still,” his grip on your thighs firm. “i want to feel every. inch. of. you.” or... “move your hips, just like that,” “good girl, keep going.” likes the way you are completely under his control, craving his approval.

jeonghan’s method of torment is different; he loves seeing you struggle. “do you like that? can you tell me how it feels?” his questions come between thrusts, making it hard for you to form coherent answers. your stuttered responses amuse him

joshua is gentle, almost reverent in the way he touches you. he’s not one for dirty talk, but his coos and murmurs are just as effective. “you’re so beautiful,” but when he’s mad, the filthy words spill from his lips. “you think you can just tease me like that? take this, you little slut” his words are rare but works everytime.

junhui doesn’t mean to dirty talk; it just slips out. “god, you’re so tight” he moans, his hands gripping your hips. “feels so fucking good.” his words are natural and unfiltered, an honest expression of how good you make him feel.

hoshi can’t keep his mouth shut, narrating every sensation, every reaction. “god, you’re squeezing me so tight. love how you feel around me.” his words are a constant stream, making you blush and squirm.

wonwoo’s quiet exterior hides a filthy mouth. “you like being fucked like this, don’t you? such a dumb little slut for me.” his harsh words contrasting with the tenderness in his eyes, making you feel cherished even as he reduces you to a whimpering mess.

jihoon is typically quiet, but his words are clear. “keep your legs spread,” he instructs “don’t move or I’ll stop.” but when he’s feeling more romantic, his tone softens. “i love you,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead to yours as he moves within you.

minghao has become surprisingly vocal, his initial reluctance giving way to a newfound enthusiasm. “so tight around me. fuck, keep clenching like that.” his words make you clench tigther around him, a reaction he’s learned to love, encouraging him to keep talking.

mingyu can’t stop moaning and whimpering, his rambling almost constant. “oh god, oh god, you feel so good. can’t stop, can’t think.” his voice is breathless, his words barely coherent, but the reason behind them makes you feel powerful, knowing you’re the one making him lose control.

seokmin balances sweetness with nasty. “u’re the love of my life,” he says, before his tone shifts. “now take m’cock like the dirty little slut you are.” his dual nature keeps you on your toes

seungkwan’s sassiness comes through in his teasing. “do you like that? answer me.” his questions are a challenge, and when you can’t answer, he laughs softly. “come on, tell me how much you love it.” he knows you can’t form coherent words, and he loves every second of it. “i’ll take that moan as a yes.”

vernon likes to hear you talk, his questions designed to hear you yapping ab how good it feels. “does that feel good?” “tell me, baby. let me hear you. i dare you.” his low, steady voice encourages you to speak, even as the pleasure makes it difficult. he relishes every stuttered word because he needs to hear your struggling to answer him, each broken word turning him on more.

chan’s thoughts spill out uncontrollably. “fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. “god, i love fucking you. you feel so fucking good” his words are bare and sincere, no filter between his thoughts and his voice. his lack of filter even shocked you at first.

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sgtgarricks · 10 months ago

Text

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ your gentle hands are enough

simon riley x afab!reader cw: nsfw, angst kinda?, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, praise kink, creampie!!, reader referred as 'pet' like twice, smut with sadness, hurt/kinda comfort, mention of johnny's death, simon is scared of commitment :(, we still love him.

reblogs are immensely appreciated! <3

NEXT PART (HEA): i want your hands on me for all my life

notes: my first ever fic that i'm posting on this site !! feedback is appreciated ♡ dedicated to @rowarn for being lovely and entertaining my rambles!

You and Simon weren't exactly dating.

He visits you almost every night whenever he's in the city and he's always gone before you're out of bed. But you relish on the rare occasions that you're awake before him — the moments you get to brush your hand through the raised scars littered all across his face, the moments you get to tangle your fingers in his hair to hear his little grunts.

Simon Riley has rough hands, scarred and calloused from years in the battlefield. Yet when those hands are caressing your body softly, you know he's being unnecessarily gentle to not let you feel the roughness in his hands — as if he was trying to prevent all the hurt and pain he's inflicted with his fists from bleeding into you.

You pretend to have only just woken up, eyes blinking slowly trying to adjust to the sunlight filtering in through the blinds.

"Morning, Si."

"G'morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?" He places a warm palm on your hip, not fulling resting the weight of it.

"I always do when you're here." You raised your hand to his chest and feel his heart thumping steadily below you. His body always runs hot no matter the weather and it makes you nuzzle into him more during the bleak winter.

Silence engulfs the two of you, lulling you into a vulnerable state of bliss as you recall the events of last night.

You had barely opened the door for him last night before his hands were all over you, lips crashing onto yours as he kissed you with desperation. Strong hands working swiftly to remove your clothes gently as he pushed you towards the bedroom.

Simon was always gentle with you, but you've been with him long enough to know the difference between him missing you and him scared at the thought of missing you.

Instead of gently laying you down on the plush mattress, he pushed you with a little bit of force than usual.

"Simon!" You yelp. You must've been too distracted by him to fully notice that he was now fully naked below you.

He had a glint in his eye that let you know you were not going to be able to rest until he coaxed multiple orgasms from you.

His hand was constantly on your body, not wanting to go for a second without feeling your skin under his. Greedy kisses were peppered all across your collarbone that were now marked with the imprint of his teeth.

You knew Simon was trying to memorize every inch of your body, leave his marks on you because he was going to go back on deployment soon.

This realization is what snaps you out of your peaceful reverie. That your Simon is going to leave you soon.

The mere thought of having to see him leave your apartment in a few hours and not getting to see him for another week? Months?

It leaves a sour taste in your mouth that made you frown and turn your head away.

Simon, ever so vigilant, notices your downturned lips. He cups your chin and swivels it to face him. He nudges his nose with yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

You hate that he was playing dumb. Hates that he thinks you don't know his antics by now. Hates that he thinks you don't know him by now.

"You know why, Si." Pushing your hands on the plush bed, you rest your back on the headboard. You stare at Simon disapprovingly, upset that he's trying to pretend everything is fine.

He sighs heavily and run his hand through his hair, messing it up more than it already was.

"How do you know?" He finally lets out, still laying down on his side staring up at you.

You scoff at him. Maybe because you've seen him through his highs-and-lows. You've seen his little smirk at your antics. Listened to his stories intently as he fondly recalls memories with his squad mates.

But you've also seen him coming to you bloody, battered, bruised, and shaking as you stitched his back. You've seen him scare himself awake at night, dreaming about the last time he saw Johnny.

He chuckles when you stare at him pointedly and finally sits up. He waits for you to stop sulking for a few minutes, before sighing once more.

The bed creaks with his weight as he tries to stand up from it, turning towards the window. You know what's coming next and you are fully aware there's nothing you can do to stop him from going on deployment.

What you can do, is at least try to make him stay a little bit longer.

You crawl forward from your position, throwing both your arms around his wide torso — at least try to, he's way too wide for you to fully engulf him in your arms.

"Don't go."

Your lips are pressed against his back as you softly plead with him to not go. Simon takes both your arms in his hands and angles his upper body towards you. Slowly, you move up from your sprawled-out position and kneel in front of him.

"Please." You slowly pull away your arms from his grip. He reluctantly lets you go before you slowly wrap them behind his neck. You inch closer to him, slowly leaning down and kissing his neck.

Simon moans languidly, still groggy.

"You play dirty, love." He cups your behind, angling his neck upwards to give you more access.

"You love it."

"Being cheeky, are you?" You grin against his neck, biting down softly. Arching your neck subtly as Simon tugged on your hair.

These were truly the moments you truly enjoy the most. Not that you don't enjoy sleeping with him, you definitely do. But being able to love him freely in the daylight made it much more intimate.

You suspect it's why Simon always tried his best to leave before the sun came up.

You know Simon loves you, albeit in his own unique way. He's never been nothing but kind and gentle to you, always making sure you feel safe and taken care of with him. From locking your door with the spare key he has after he leaves, to making sure to take care of you after having sex — always gets up to clean any messes he had left on your body with gentle wipes and ending it with a soft kiss to your forehead.

Despite your numerous attempts to get him to open up about his past, he doesn't bite often. Though, you know some part of him wants nothing more than to tell you every single thing about himself when he speaks little snippets of his past.

He doesn't tell you anything overly upsetting, always keeping it minimal and with as little details of violence as possible.

Perhaps, his idea of a small mercy.

Maybe he thinks he's doing you a favor, giving you little bits of himself hoping you eventually realize how damaged he is. He doesn't understand how those flickers of vulnerability makes you hungrier for more of him. You wanted him, thorns and all.

Simon lets himself get roped back into your arms, all his muscles relaxed, no trace any tautness or rigidness lingering. He feels safe in your arms.

"How long Simon?" You finally ask, preparing for the worst.

Simon was mostly gone for around a month.

But on the rare times you couldn't see him for more than half a year, it was like hell. It hurt so deeply knowing even if he had been killed off somewhere, you might not even know. The only traces left of him would only be the few shirts he's let you take and the Simon-shaped hole he would have left in your heart.

It scared you that you could never be able to smell his earthy musk lingering in your sheets again, that it would fade one day and you wouldn't remember what it smelled like anymore.

"I dunno. More or less three months?"

You hated when he was vague. He was often trying to spare your feelings.

"So... more."

He nods with his face still hiding in your neck. You can feel him press his nose harder and inhale deeply.

Deep down, you feel crushed. You always do when he has to leave. You want to tell him how much you love him again, how much you need him, and you wanted him to say it back so badly.

You thought you had gotten so far with him, slowly breaking down his walls after getting him to start staying over instead of leaving. Something changed after he lost Johnny — he was more touchy, more clingy, but he never let you get any closer anymore. You could physically feel him wince if you told him you loved him during one of your vulnerable moments.

The first time you told him you loved him, he looked at you with a somber look. He didn't say anything, but he pulled you close and gave you a bone-crushing hug.

I'm sorry.

He gave different reactions every time. Some days he'd simply sigh and drag his fingers through your hair lovingly. On worse days, he'd shake his head and do nothing else.

It was like an impenetrable wall had suddenly appeared when it wasn't there before.

You take a deep breath. Simon has been nothing but gentle with fragile you. He's been trying his best to not taint the heart that you've freely ripped out of your chest for him.

Maybe this time, you can do something for him and let him go back without the weight of your love on his shoulder.

"Better make the most of it then, eh?" You pull back from him and hear a grunt of protest. You start pushing him until his back hit the headboard gently. Kissing your way down to his groin, you tug at his boxers impatiently.

"Sweetheart you don't have to-"

"I want to." You cut him off.

"Fuck. You're gonna be the death o' me, love." He lifts his hips and lets you drag his boxers down, revealing his semi-hardness.

God, his cock is so beautiful. It's so thick you could barely wrap both your hands around it even when he's not fully hard.

"I'll make sure to send you off gently with a kiss, Simon." Your mouth slowly engulfs the tip of his cock, licking all around it. Simon lets out a groan as he grabs your head gently.

"Oh, fuck. That's it, sweetheart. So sweet, being so good f' me." He encourages sweetly and it's enough to get you preening and moving your head excitedly down his length.

Just as you know his habits, Simon also knows what makes you tick. Getting praised by him almost always makes you putty in his hands and he makes sure to take advantage of this information to its full potential. He loves to praise you even for the smallest of things, such as cooking for him when he gets back.

Telling you how lovely you are and how he's thankful for you taking the time to cook for grumpy, old, Simon.

You continue taking more of his length in your mouth, gaggling slightly from the sheer size of him. You can taste the salty precum on your tongue and your eyes roll back from pleasure, taking him in more enthusiastically.

"Slow down, love. Don't want- ugh.. you t' hurt yourself." Simon tries to pull your head back to give you space, but you're not happy about it. You glare up at him best as you can before taking him down to the hilt.

Nose pressed deep, you can smell the slight tang of his musk, making you slightly delirious. You moan, sending vibrations up throughout his body.

Simon trembles with pleasure, groaning.

"Yeah, you like that sweetheart? Love choking on my cock? Hmm?"

At his words, you slowly take your mouth off of him, replacing it with your hands. Slick from your spit and his precum, your hand glides along his shaft easily as he bucks into your hand.

"Mhm.." You put your mouth on him once more, only pulling away to rub it all over your face. "Love it so much, Si. Love having your cock in my mouth. Can't live without it."

Simon admires you, cockdrunk on his leaking shaft. Even with his mess all over your face as you slobber on him, he thinks you look absolutely gorgeous.

Looking up at him, it's like you can see hearts in his eyes. You've been wet since the moment you woke up to him next to you, but him looking at you like you're the only person he wants to see on him makes you feel on top of the world.

Unable to take it anymore, you whine pathetically and start humping the bed.

Simon sees you writhing on the bed below him and chuckles as you continue kissing all over his cock.

"Look at you.. so needy, sweetheart. You don't need to hump the bed like a dog in heat. I'm right here, love." With that, he gently pulls you off his cock. You groan dismay, body going slightly limp from desperation.

"Need you so bad, Si." You beg him, tears starting to form in your eyes. You think you're going to crazy if he doesn't fuck you soon. He's about to leave soon for months and you're desperate for him to leave his mark on you.

Simon gently tuts and caresses your cheek. He's in awe of how he's got such a lovely, needy, pet wrapped around his finger. He hasn't had someone this devoted to him in a very long time — someone who's always excited to see him come home, someone who's never asked for him for more than what he can give.

Maybe it makes him a narcissist that he's happy of the fact that you're so desperately in love with him, you'd rather have parts of him than not at all.

But during early mornings where he'd find you sniffling into your pillow, he feels pain in his chest where his heart resides. He knows you cry over him.

He mourns the love that you two could have, but he'd rather mourn over the fantasy he's created in his head — the fantasy where he wasn't fucked up and is able to receive the kind of love you freely give, than have you be heartbroken when Simon inevitably doesn't come home one day.

"I got you, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good." He rumbles against your lips. In a split second, he'd managed to lay you out on the bed and now hovered above you.

He takes a moment to stare at your face. Wide-eyed, sweating, and panting heavily. He peppers kisses all over your face.

His little pet all worked up over sucking his cock.

He's staring at you for a few seconds, making you writhe around, but you never break his stare. It was as if the both of you were trying to commit each other's faces to memory right in this moment, not knowing when you were going to be able to see each other again.

You bring your hand up to his face, slightly wiping the sweat away from his eyes.

His eyes.

The moment he looked at you, you know you were done for. Those eyes never fail to send shivers through your whole body, as if your entire being was standing to attention when his eyes were on you.

"You're so pretty, Simon."

That seemed to break him out of his trance. He grunts slightly as if disagreeing with your statement. You sigh, knowing he's never going to see himself the way you see him.

That's okay. You'll spend as much time as he'll give you to convince him.

Simon kisses and caresses down your body as you moan from the feel of it. Teasing you with his lips and leaving small marks all over. When he gets to your thighs, he slowly raises both of them as he lightly rubs his scruffy chin on it.

"Lift those pretty legs f' me, hm?"

When you don't respond, he gently bites to get your attention and you huff. You grasp your bedsheets so tight your knuckles were going white when you feel his hot breath on you.

"Such a pretty pussy. Just for me, yeah?" He kisses your folds gently, the sensation of his scruff causing a prickly sensation, making you wail in pleasure.

"S-Simon!" You were so needy and sensitive — Simon loved that about you.

"So sensitive." He murmurs against your weeping pussy. He runs his finger across your folds, gathering the wetness. You look down at him as he tastes your wetness on his finger.

"Fuck, Simon."

"Mm, my favorite taste."

After a few moments of simply kissing all around your folds and your clit, Simon decides to stop teasing you. He presses his face in your folds and licks a stripe across it.

He repeats this action multiple times, sucking on your little bud in between. He rolls his finger around your clit as his mouth makes suckling noises. The sensation of his tongue and finger on you make you gasp loudly — your eyes rolling back.

You arch your back and don't stop chanting Simon's name like a prayer. Like he was going to disappear if you stopped calling his name.

"That's it. Let me hear what you want, pretty." He brings two of his fingers back inside your walls, lightly caressing them. He's teasing you, waiting for you to beg him to put his fingers inside of you. You break instantly, begging for him to use his thick fingers to please you.

"Please, Simon. Please, please, please. Need your fingers in me."

How could Simon deny you when you beg so sweetly?

Humming against you, he slowly sinks his fingers inside your aching walls. You sigh in contentment, unconsciously clenching on his fingers.

"Relax love, you're choking my fingers." You relax a bit at his words, trying to get your breathing back to normal. The death grip you

It seems that Simon had other ideas, because as soon as you loosened, his fingers started picking up. You start wailing again at his sudden shift in pace, grabbing his hand that was gripping your thigh.

His hand lets go of your thigh and entwines it with yours.

"Doing so good for me. You can take it, sweetheart. Be good and cum on my fingers, yeah?" At this point the both of you were panting heavily, his heavy cock still leaking precum onto the bedsheets. You didn't realize it before, but you're just now realizing how the bed is creaking from his hips.

Simon pants heavily, the room getting warmer by the second. His heavy groans makes your pussy throb around his fingers as you feel a pressure building in your lower belly.

"Si- please. So close."

Knowing you're close sends him over the edge, his tongue works faster and sloppier in tandem with his fingers. Simon moans and and your back starts to arch higher than before.

You're now making a mess on the bedsheets, wet noises can be heard loudly as it echoes throughout the entire room. You feel hot, sweaty, and suddenly everything's too much.

The lights are too bright, the noises too loud, and you feel so sensitive it burns.

"Simon, I-" You whine, legs starting to thrash as Simon pulled his fingers away to hold your legs. You feel your nerves lighting awake as you feel every single sensation as he sinks his tongue inside.

"Love you Si, love you so much. I'm—" Your body seizes and freezes for a moment and a little flick of his tongue against your bud makes you lose it. Your orgasm washes through you like a crashing wave, causing you to tremble in his hold and let out gasps as you struggle to breath normally and let your legs fall.

Simon lets you catch your breath as he lifts himself up, still hard. You rest your eyes on him and you see him lick his lips — his entire mouth and chin shiny with your slick.

He hovers above you once more, leaning down to give you a kiss. You reach up enthusiastically, pulling him down by his neck. He grunts at the sudden force as you slant your lips against his. It's messy, his lips slick with spit and yours with a small trace of drool. The kiss is desperate, teeth knocking into each other more than once.

It goes on for a while before Simon starts to pull back. Before he's successful, you wrap both your legs around his waist and Simon gasps at the sensation of his cock pressed against your slick.

"Need you inside, Simon. Want you in me." Murmuring against his lips, your hand desperately wanders down his sweaty body and grips his cock.

He lets out a grunt at the sudden warmth enveloping him and is unable to control as his hips involuntarily thrust forward.

"Yeah? You want my cock? Take it, sweetheart. It's all yours." He watches in a daze as you slowly align him with you. The moment he feels his tip rub on your slippery folds, he lets out a whimper.

"Please Si.." You whisper to him. "Wanna feel you inside me so bad." Simon coos at you, seeing you beg him to fuck you never fails to make his brain circuit for a few seconds.

He teases you a few seconds longer, just to hear you beg more for him. He begins to feel bad when you start humping the air in hopes of getting his head inside you.

You're babbling incoherently now, eyes closed, hands wandering all over Simon's body. He gives you mercy and starts to push inside your throbbing hole. It takes a bit of time, but when his head manages to push through, he's already able to feel your walls pulsate around him.

"Oh, sweetheart. So needy f' me." He's also barely coherent, his eyes focused on his cock deeper inside your tight hole. "What are you gonna do when I'm gone, hm? Who's gonna fuck you this good?" Simon barely realizes what he's saying until he's spoken them. The thought of someone else fucking you when he's gone lights a fire inside him.

"Oh, fuck." His cock is fully in you now and you can feel every vein pulsating inside of you. Your hands are gripping Simon harder, possibly leaving red marks all over his body — you relish in the thought of Simon looking in the mirror and seeing the marks you left on him. "No one, Si. No one's gonna fuck me as good as you. Don' want you to go. Want you here with me." Your mouth hangs open uselessly, overwhelmed with the pressure of Simon in you.

Hearing you admit so openly you weren't going to fuck anyone else drives Simon even crazier. You realize now how much of an impact your words have on Simon when he starts pounding your poor pussy that was still sensitive.

"Yeah? That's right, sweetheart. No one can fuck you like I can." It takes him a few seconds to get his words out, huffing above you. You can barely hear what he's saying, ears ringing from the blinding white, hot pleasure coursing through your entire body. Your hands try gripping him as long as you can but his thrusts are causing your body to jostle relentlessly, and now your arms flail helplessly before holding onto the headboard.

Simon is no longer on his forearm, his head resting in the crook of your neck as his hands grip your waist. You're sure his hands are going to leave prints in the morning from how hard he's gripping you.

You don't mind at all.

Your brain feels foggy, only speaking Simon's name over and over again. Simon's no better than you, grunting and groaning at every thrust that leads him deeper into your hole.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He moans. "So good for me, so sweet for me." Your legs no longer have the energy to stay corded behind his back, limping helplessly beside you as Simon fucks you.

You feel another orgasm creeping up on you as your walls begin to clench around Simon's cock. Simon hisses at the feeling, leaning up to look at your cream gathering at the base of him. He looks up to the ceiling, gasping in pleasure.

"Si, I'm so close, I-" He brings his head down to give you a chaste kiss before pulling away, nose touching yours and staring into your eyes.

"Let go f' me, sweetheart. Gonna cum on my cock and be good?" He coaxes you, one of his hands going to your face. You don't even realize you're crying until Simon wipes your tears away.

You can't take it anymore, the loving look in his eyes and feeling him inside you breaks you.

"Love you so much, Si. I love you so fucking much." You cry out to him as you're finally sent over the edge. You wail loudly, back arching as Simon continues to thrust at a slower pace, going deeper than before.

"God, fuck. I love you, I love you. Fuck." He continues to mumble against your neck. Your jaw goes slack and another orgasm seizes your body as you clench and gush all over him.

His thighs are drenched from your slick and when he feels your walls pulsing repeatedly over him, he feels shivers all over his body and he cums.

The blinding pleasure takes him off guard, thighs shaking from the sheer force. He continues thrusting shallowly, dragging out his orgasm as his cum fills up your hole to the brim.

He gasps and bites down on your neck, not stopping until he's fully come down from his high.

You're shell shocked, one hand over your eyes as you thinking about what just transpired. This was nothing like before. He'd never said 'I love you', ever. You take a moment to regain your thoughts, heart thumping wildly.

By this point, your hopes had soared like never before, the small part of you that still believes you can have something with Simon begins crawling out of you — coming back alive.

"Si-" You start as you catch your breath and lift your head slightly to look at him.

"Sorry." He mumbles lifting himself from your body, plopping himself on the pillow beside you.

There's nothing but silence for a few minutes. A part of you wants nothing more than to confront him, get him to face his feelings. But you know Simon and that if you did that, he'd panic.

So, you wait. And wait. And wait.

Until he coughs.

"I have to go. Supposed to meet the boys in an hour." He grumbles, fumbling around to get himself off the bed and find his clothes.

Your heart breaks. Was he really going to go away for a few months without talking about what just happened? You had to make a choice. Either speak now or forever hold your peace.

"Simon." You speak with such a finality in your tone that it renders Simon frozen. He pauses putting his pants back on and stares up at you, terrified.

"I love you." You say, loud and clear. You've told him you loved him in the throes of passion and in the sleepy haze of early mornings, but never when both of you were wide awake. Like a secret that's only meant to be whispered so as to not let it get snuffed out.

You see his eyes widen for a fraction of a second. He seems to debate what he wants to say. You badly wish for him to just say something, anything at all.

He doesn't.

Simon continues to put on his pants and slip his shirt over his head. Once he finally gains the courage to look at you once more, he had to clear his throat. The forlorn look on your face would haunt him until the day he dies.

He knows you love him so deeply and honestly, that there was no questioning your devotion to him. He knows that you feel for him so deeply, you'd rather hurt yourself over and over than let him go.

But he's also once harbored care and affection to someone, fighting side-by-side with someone he thought was going to never stop speaking gibberish in his ear.

If Simon almost couldn't survive losing Johnny, there was no way you were going to survive losing him.

With his heart in his throat, Simon stares at you, fighting back tears that threaten to escape. God, he wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you and tell you he loves you more than anything in this world. That he'd fight through any battlefield with broken limbs just to come home to you. But he knows he can't give you that promise. That promise that he's going to die of old age with you.

He expects you to cry or scream, but nothing in the world would be able to heal the way Simon's heart breaks when you only give him a sad smile.

"That's okay. I know you're not selfish enough to love me back."

He knows he should just leave, but he can't help himself from hurting you once more. Simon steps forward, cradles your head in his hands and lay a kiss atop your head.

And then, he leaves.

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod x reader #simon riley angst #simon ghost riley angst #cod ghost x reader #simon riley #my writings

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jupiterpilgrim · 2 months ago

Text

Beneath the Quirky Petals

Lee Chaeyoung x male reader

word count: 13K

You're at home, sinking into the leather couch while your brain is still trying to detach from the numbers, charts, and spreadsheets that the finance department throws at you like a machine gun loaded with pure bureaucracy.

A toast to surviving another week.

You pop open a beer can with the most satisfying sound you've heard all day. Friday night. No charts. No reports. No one-

The doorbell rings.

You freeze, the beer halfway to your lips. Who the hell shows up at your house on a Friday night? The delivery guy already came by, and your Chinese food is in the kitchen.

Maybe it's a neighbor?

Curious, but low on patience, you open the door. And that's when reality seems to collapse, because what you see doesn't make any sense. It's Lee Chaeyoung, popularly known as the weird girl from the finance department. And she's standing right there in front of you, holding a ridiculously colorful bouquet of flowers and a... box of chocolates?

"Surprise!" she exclaims, a big smile on her face.

Your brain blue-screens.

Surprise? That's the word she chose? Because you can think of several others: confusion, fear, panic - all of which seem way more appropriate. But you keep your composure, at least on the surface.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, trying not to sound like a malfunctioning robot. It's 8 PM on a Friday, and this is definitely not on your schedule.

She smiles again, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I came to confess my feelings!"

Ah, of course, she came to confess her feelings.

Because that's totally what you do to a coworker you've barely exchanged more than "good morning" or discusses work formalities. You feel your mouth open and close, desperately trying to summon words that make sense.

You fail miserably.

She doesn’t wait for rational responses. She simply walks in, as if your house is hers, handing you the bouquet of flowers and the box of chocolates like she’s offering you a promotion to Love of My Life™.

You look at the flowers, then at the chocolates, then at her. “What’s all this?” The question slips out before you can filter it.

“It’s for you, of course!” she says with a creepy sweetness. “Do you like it?”

“Err, sure…” you reply, with a smile more fake than your boss’s expense reports. You set everything down on a table, your hand discreetly reaching for your phone in your pocket. “Loved it…”

As she continues to ramble on about how you two have so much to talk about, you open one of the chat groups (the one reserved only for questionable banter) with the most evil creatures you know - your coworkers.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard:

"HELP!! LEE CHAEYOUNG IS AT MY HOUSE WITH FLOWERS AND CHOCOLATE!!!! SOS!!"

“I already know everything,” she says, grinning from ear to ear.

You freeze. You think your ears must be playing tricks on you. "Know everything about what?"

She giggles, the lightest, most annoyingly satisfied laugh you've ever heard. "You don’t have to hide anymore, silly, the feeling is mutual."

Right.

This.

Is.

Happening.

You force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and try again, like you're talking to a very confused child. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chaeyoung."

She raises an eyebrow, as if you're the weird one here. "The guys in the department told me everything. I know you’re in love with me."

And at that exact moment, your phone vibrates with the fury of a thousand demons. You glance at the group chat. Messages are pouring in, a flurry of "lol" and laughing emojis. And that's when the truth stabs into your brain like a dagger: they set you up.

The bastards planned this.

“Who told you that?” Your voice comes out hoarse, like you've swallowed a cactus.

“Hmm, pretty much everyone in the finance department, and a few people from HR.”

You gulp. And that’s the closest you’ve ever come to a heart attack.

Chaeyoung tilts her head, her eyes sparkling with unshakable sweetness. “I... didn't expect you of all people to fall for me.” She says this with a tone of shyness that’s supposed to melt hearts. But yours, right now, is pounding so hard it feels like it might break through your chest and run for the door.

You’re about to say something - anything to get out of this mess - when she continues. “I guess now I can be honest and say I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since I joined the company.” She brushes her hair aside, clearly rehearsing what’s coming next. “You were one of the few people who tried to help me fit in. I’m really grateful for that.”

That last part hits you like a metal bar to the face. Because, yeah, you helped her out. But only because... well, it’s what you do. You were kind to her like you would’ve been to any other lost newbie in the corporate jungle. But now that you think about it, you realize the only person she's remotely close to at the company is you.

And, worth noting, looking at Chaeyoung now, outside of work, she seems… different. Even… put together. And pretty. Not the same clumsy Chaeyoung you bump into at the printer every day.

"Hmm... Want a beer?" you ask, because when your brain’s about to explode, your body decides beer is the solution to absolutely everything.

“Oh, sure, I love beer,” she replies, sitting down on the couch and placing her little purse on the coffee table.

You head to the kitchen, still dazed. You grab another beer. The sound of the can opening feels like a muffled cry for help. When you return to the living room, there she is, sitting peacefully, looking around. “Your place is really nice,” she comments. “So neat. I figured it would be, it matches your personality.”

You hand her the beer and sit down, wishing the couch would swallow you whole. Maybe, if you sit still enough, the universe will decide none of this is happening, and you’ll be back to a Friday night of just beer and silence. But no. Chaeyoung is there, on your couch, and she brought you a bouquet of flowers that you have no idea what to do with (do you need to water those?).

“So…” you try to start, but your mind is emptier than a ghost town. "What exactly do you think we’re talking about here?"

She smiles, that shy smile that makes you want to look anywhere but at her face. "I already said. The guys in the finance department told me you're in love with me."

You feel sweat trickle down the back of your neck, but you keep smiling. It’s the smile of a man walking straight toward a cliff, knowing it’s there. "Oh, they said that, did they?"

"Yeah," she nods eagerly. "It wasn’t just one person, practically all your friends confirmed it. They said you were just too shy to confess."

Shy.

The word floats through your mind like a bad joke.

"Look," you say, choosing your words like you're defusing a bomb, "this seems like a huge misunderstanding."

She blushes, her cheeks turning pink as if just talking about feelings is enough to trigger a nervous breakdown. "I... I know it seems strange. I mean, I never expected you to fall for me." She looks down, nervously fiddling with her hair. "You're the type of guy that all the girls in the department notice, you know? I thought... why me?"

“Why you?” you repeat, stunned. She’s talking like you’re some kind of soap opera heartthrob, when in reality most of your days are spent trying to figure out whether it’s time to replace the printer or if it’s just out of toner.

She smiles again, a small, shy smile, almost as if she’s apologizing for existing. "It’s just... I’m not like the other girls in the office, right? Saerom is so confident. And Jisun, she’s always so put together, knows how to talk to everyone. I'm not like that."

You don’t disagree.

Because, well, she is weird. But, for some reason, that weirdness now feels a lot less annoying than it does at the office. Maybe it’s the fact that, outside the corporate setting, she actually made an effort. Her hair is down, styled, without the usual scrunchies. The dress is simple, but... it works.

“I never thought someone like you…” she continues, clearly uncomfortable, “could like someone like me."

You almost laugh, because the irony of all this is that you’re not in love. But now, suddenly, the idea of someone like you falling for her doesn’t seem as absurd as it did twenty minutes ago.

She actually seems like a pretty dateable girl at this point.

“Chaeyoung,” you begin, and it comes out softer than you expected. "I’m just a regular guy. I’m not exactly the Prince Charming they’ve made me out to be."

"I know, but… you were the only one who was kind to me from the start. You always helped me with the reports, even when I didn’t know what I was doing. And I… well, I like you too."

And that’s when you feel a slight tightening in your chest. Because, unlike everything else, this feels genuine. It’s not your coworkers' prank, not the misunderstanding about you being in love. It’s Chaeyoung, the girl everyone calls weird, admitting she likes you. And somehow, that makes you want to rethink your whole life. You never participated in the jokes about her, and when they threw the ball your way, you just stayed silent. But you also never cared enough to do anything about it. In a way, you were complicit, and now, for some reason, it’s making you feel bad.

“I’m still so impressed with your house. It’s exactly how I imagined it would be, you know? Neat, elegant. It suits you.”

“Suits me?” You chuckle, because the idea that your house suits you means you must be the most generic person in the world.

“Yes!” she replies, excited. “You’re always so organized at work, always knowing what to do. I kind of… admire that… in a man.”

Now you’re treading dangerous ground, and you internally question if maybe you’ve been a bit too nice.

As she looks at you with those big, hopeful eyes, you realize you’re back at square one. What do you say now? How do you break the fantasy she’s built without breaking her along with it? A headache starts to form, not one that builds slowly, but one that hits you like a megaphone blast. You’re trying to pretend nothing’s out of control.

But it is.

“How did you get my address, Chaeyoung?” you ask, trying to sound calm.

“Oh, it was your friend, the one with the loud laugh,” she answers innocently.

Of course. Him. The idiot with the laugh that sounds like a train on fire. Internally, you promise that, at the next happy hour, you’re going to strangle him with a phone charger cable.

You take a deep breath, trying to choose your words very, very carefully. “Look, Chaeyoung... I think there’s been a big misunderstanding here-”

“It’s okay! You don’t have to run from what you’re feeling.”

You blink a few times, trying to process what she just said. “I… what?”

She looks even more excited now, like she’s at an amusement park and you’re the main attraction. “I’m so happy about all of this. It’s a little embarrassing to say out loud, but you’re going to be my first boyfriend!”

That catches you off guard in a way even the cruelest budget spreadsheets couldn’t. “First?” you repeat, the word coming out more like a confused echo.

She nods, looking a bit shy now. “Yeah... I’ve never dated before. Guys never paid attention to me, you know? From high school till now.” She looks away, sadness creeping into her voice like a shadow.

Damn. That hits you hard. A part of you feels a pang in your chest. You try to be kind – as always.

“Hey, Chae, you look... really nice today.”

Her face lights up, practically filling the room with her smile. “Really? You like it? And my dress, do you like it too?!” She stands up from the couch and does an awkward little twirl, like she’s showing off a wedding gown.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, not thinking much. “It’s lovely.”

She stares at you, her eyes shining like two stars about to collide. “I know you've probably heard this a lot, but you're so beautiful. The most handsome man in the office!”

You swallow hard again, feeling your throat dry as a desert. “I… Look, I’m not sure what to do… I didn’t have plans for tonight.”

“This is perfect! Just being with you is enough.”

Now, the desperation starts crawling down your spine, spiraling. You’re in a pit, and the more you move, the deeper you sink. The phone in your pocket keeps vibrating with your friends laughing virtually.

How do you get out of this?

“Are you really staying here?” you ask, awkwardly, unsure if you even want the answer.

She smiles, content. “Of course! We’re getting to know each other better now, aren’t we? That’s important for... our future together.”

Suddenly, she lifts her nose and sniffs the air like a puppy smelling steak. “What’s that? It smells so good.”

You feel your last thread of hope shatter. “Oh, that’s... Chinese food. I was thinking of eating it later.”

Her eyes light up again. “I love Chinese food!”

You look at the floor, the flowers, anything but her, and finally surrender to the tide that’s drowning you. “Err, wanna… share?”

She smiles, genuinely happy, as if this is the night of her dreams.

And you, well, you’re going to need more beer.

As you drag yourself to the kitchen, you feel the weight of the situation piling on your back. The microwave beeps, and all you can think is how it’s mirroring your brain: spinning in circles, overheating, and on the verge of exploding. Suddenly, Chaeyoung’s voice cuts through the silence from the living room, terribly cheerful, of course:

“I remember my first week at the company! Gosh, I was so lost, but you were amazing. Remember? When I stood by the coffee machine, trying to figure it out? And then you showed me the right button! It was so obvious after you explained it! You’re so good with that kind of thing.”

You’re tapping your chopsticks on the counter while glancing at your phone, checking the friends - or traitors - group. It’s chaos. A sea of messages. “HAHAHA dude, you’re FUCKED,” “new couple in the department?” and the inevitable flood of “congrats!” You type quickly: "THIS WILL HAVE REVENGE!!"

Chaeyoung continues, her voice full of admiration. “And that day when you helped me set up the emails, remember? I was SO confused with the passwords, and you explained it so patiently. You have this way of speaking that… it’s so calming, you know? Like you have everything under control all the time. It’s adorable.”

Adorable. That word echoes in your mind as you pretend to focus on the chow mein, trying to ignore the fact that your friends are turning the group chat into a stand-up comedy show at your expense. The phone buzzes again. “GO GET LUCKY, CHOSEN ONE” flashes on the screen, and you sigh, tapping your chopsticks on the kitchen counter. “All of you, DIE!”

“Oh, and I’ll never forget when you helped me with that mess at the copier!” Chaeyoung now seems to be narrating the greatest hits of your life, as if every moment was a milestone of heroic kindness. “You just pressed a few buttons, and suddenly the machine stopped choking on the paper. I was so impressed! And that serious look you had, like you knew exactly what you were doing… it’s so… cute!”

Cute. Of course.

Now, besides being the victim of a coldly calculated prank, you’re cute. While the rice continues to warm up, you open your phone again. Your friends are losing their minds laughing. “She’s already at your place, bro, it’s happening!” “Go for it with the weird girl!!” and “Is her dress sexy? Lol”. Your fingers fly across the keyboard: Seriously, FUCK YOU ALL!!!

Chaeyoung is still in the living room, completely oblivious to the mental storm you’re going through. “You’re always so… grounded, you know? Even when we’re in the middle of crazy deadlines, you never seem stressed. I find that amazing. Sometimes I watch you at your desk, the way you press the keys on your keyboard, so focused... It’s like you have a superpower!” She laughs at herself, that light, childish laugh that makes you feel like you’re in a rom-com scene – one you never wanted to be in.

You open the microwave, steam rising in slow waves. “You know, Chaeyoung? I just… do what everyone does at work. There’s nothing special about it,” you shout from the kitchen, trying to bring some reality to the conversation.

“Oh, but you are special!” Her voice returns with renewed enthusiasm, as if she’d been waiting for that cue. “Most people don’t even notice, but I see how much you care about the details. Like when you organize your desk! I love how your papers are always stacked neatly, the post-its all lined up. And that basic black mousepad? It’s so you.”

You rub your face, trying to process how your life came to this: your silent obsession with organization becoming the object of romantic fascination. All you wanted was to eat Chinese food in peace and maybe watch something mindless on TV.

The phone buzzes again, and you glance quickly. A meme of a wedding ring with the caption “Tonight’s the night.” You grit your teeth, but before you can respond, Chaeyoung appears in the kitchen doorway, smiling.

“Did you know you’re the only one who always says good morning to everyone when you come into the office?” She walks closer, holding a pillow like it’s some emotional prop. “I noticed that since day one. It’s the kind of thing that makes a big difference, you know? Little gestures like that… they mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah… I just try to be polite.”

She smiles as if it’s the greatest declaration of love ever made. You head back to the living room, placing the food on the coffee table, seeing no other way out, and murmur a final silent prayer: that fate, karma, or whoever is in charge might have mercy on your soul.

—

Somehow, you’re now sitting in your armchair, watching Babe on streaming. You’re not entirely sure how you got here. One minute, you were sharing Chinese food with a slightly unhinged coworker, and the next, she was excitedly explaining how this was her absolute favorite movie ever.

And, of course, Babe is now playing on your TV, while Chaeyoung sits on your couch, completely at home, narrating the movie as if you were blind and deaf.

"This part is so cute!" she exclaims as Babe tries to herd the sheep. "Look how determined he is! I love how he never gives up, you know? He reminds me of myself!"

You barely had time to grab a second beer before realizing, yeah, this is your night now: you, Chaeyoung, Babe, and the creeping feeling that reality is unraveling around you. With each new scene, she adds commentary, providing deep analysis of the pig’s nearly tragic determination.

"I related so much to Babe because he’s small and out of place, you know? Kind of like me at the company. No one expected anything from me. But I also want to herd my sheep someday!"

You blink slowly. "Uh… yeah, I can see the comparison."

"Right?" She’s thrilled, completely absorbed in the movie and her esoteric life metaphors. The movie plays on, and you try to focus on the pig, hoping he'll herd some clarity into your own situation.

Then, without warning, she gives you that look again - the dangerous one you don’t dare hold for too long. "Hey, why are you sitting over there in the armchair? Come sit on the couch."

You freeze for a second. The armchair, now that you think about it, feels like your last bastion of emotional safety. The couch is the battlefield, and she’s calling you to the front lines. "Oh, no, I’m fine here," you reply, trying to be polite but sounding like someone who just saw a ghost.

"Seriously? Come on, the couch is way comfier. It’ll be fun, we can watch together!"

The word together echoes in your mind like the sound of a giant hammer about to fall. You pretend to think about it for a moment, as if you still had a choice. "Alright, sure," you finally say, getting up with all the enthusiasm of someone walking to the electric chair.

You sit on the farthest corner of the couch, as far from her as you can without being rude. Okay, you think, this isn’t so bad. But then, little by little, she starts edging closer. First, she leans slightly toward the middle. Then, without ceremony, she practically leaps from one cushion to the next.

The proximity is becoming undeniable. You can almost feel the warmth of her beside you. And, of course, she keeps narrating the movie as if nothing else in the world mattered but Babe and his adventures.

"This is the part where Maa dies mutilated by dogs! I always cry here," she says with a sad expression.

Meanwhile, you feel a tear forming inside - not for the Maa, but for the situation that spiraled out of control long ago.

She glances at you, and you try to focus on the movie, but now it’s impossible to ignore how close she is. Until, suddenly, she leans her head on your shoulder. Gently at first, testing your reaction. And you, with the grace of a wooden post, sit there frozen, trying not to look like a department store mannequin.

"This is so nice, isn’t it?" she murmurs, her eyes still on the screen, but her voice soft, almost too sweet.

"Yeah… the pig. It’s… cool." You can’t even form coherent sentences anymore, feeling like the trap has fully closed around you. She’s there, nestled against you, and you’re more trapped than ever in this bizarre night.

Hours pass, and the movie finally ends with Babe herding his sheep like an unlikely hero. Chaeyoung jumps up from the couch, clapping her hands like she’s in a theater. Her eyes are shining, completely caught up in the emotion of the moment.

"Bravo! Best movie ever!" she exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. You, sitting on the couch, can’t help but chuckle. She really is a character.

Who claps while watching a streaming movie at home?

She turns to you, full of expectation. "So? What did you think? Isn’t it just wonderful?"

You allow yourself to relax a little, shrugging playfully. "It’s a fun movie, for sure… But, so, what are we watching tomorrow? Garfield?"

You threw the comment out there with a hint of sarcasm, certain she’d catch the joke. But, as with everything tonight, Chaeyoung takes it the wrong way.

"Garfield?! I love Garfield!" she exclaims with an enthusiasm you’d never associate with a conversation about Garfield. "We’re totally watching that tomorrow! I knew we had so much in common!" Before you can even open your mouth to clarify, she’s already hugging you with such excitement that you almost trip. "We were made for each other!" she murmurs, her face pressed against your chest.

And there you are, being squeezed by someone’s unshakeable devotion, who clearly didn’t catch the joke. Worse, you are starting to feel unwell. Not for the hug - though that’s plenty awkward - but because, well, you don’t want to hurt her. Chaeyoung may be odd, but she doesn’t deserve to have her heart shattered over a cruel prank by your coworkers.

You clear your throat, uncomfortable. "So, Chaeyoung… it’s getting kinda late, right? Maybe you should… head home."

She releases the hug, stepping back a little, looking genuinely sad. "Wow, you’re right. I didn’t even notice how late it was," she says, biting her lip, clearly regretful about leaving.

You mutter something almost inaudible, like, "Me neither..." which, let’s be honest, could be interpreted in several ways. Before things can get any more awkward, you grab your phone and call her an Uber. While you wait in a slightly tense silence, Chaeyoung picks up the box of chocolates and offers you one.

"This one’s special. Try it," she says, smiling.

You take it, because, well, what else can you do at this point? You bite into the chocolate, and to your surprise: it’s incredible! The dark chocolate and creamy filling are like a gourmet explosion in your mouth.

"This is delicious!" you admit, genuinely impressed.

Chaeyoung’s eyes light up even more. "I made it myself!"

You really didn’t expect that. "Really? Wow, it’s perfect."

She beams, clearly flattered, and suddenly seems even prouder. "Now that we’re together, you’re going to have these every day! I’ll make you sweets all the time.”

You swallow hard, not because of the chocolate, but because, honestly, you didn't expect this level of commitment in any relationship, let alone one that started with a huge misunderstanding.

But before you can respond, the Uber driver honks outside.

Chaeyoung stands up, grabbing her bag and getting ready to leave, but suddenly stops at the door and turns to you with an almost childlike expression of expectation. "Wait, aren’t you going to kiss me?"

You're standing there, in your living room, and the world seems to have frozen at the exact moment Chaeyoung says something you never thought you'd hear.

The air gets heavy, as if someone suddenly turned off gravity. You look at her, blinking, almost waiting for it to be a joke, but the gleam in her eyes... that gleam of absolute expectation... suggests it’s not. What do you do now? Jumping out the window doesn’t seem practical, and no convincing excuse comes to mind, leaving you with only one option:

"Ah... yeah, sure..." you begin, but the words betray you. Your brain is already short-circuiting. You think about saying it's not a good idea, that this is all a mistake, that maybe she should think a bit more before asking questions that make you want to vanish. But before anything sensible comes out of your mouth, you sigh and slowly approach Chaeyoung. The sparkle in her eyes grows brighter, almost as if it's about to explode from sheer excitement. Your feet feel like they weigh a ton, and your mind is screaming a chorus of don’t do this, while your body, for some unfathomable reason, propels you forward.

You lean in, and for a second of pure eternity, you’re both just inches apart. Chaeyoung is still looking at you like she's waiting for you to recite some kind of vow. There’s no escaping this now.

Then, before your mind can stop you, you kiss her.

At first, it’s like kissing a wax statue. She’s completely still, tense, as if she doesn’t quite know what to do with her own lips. And for a terrible moment, you think you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. But then, slowly, she begins to relax. You feel her body soften, and the kiss, which initially felt so mechanical, starts turning into something… different.

Her hand unexpectedly rises to touch your arm, and you feel the warmth of her touch seep through your skin like static electricity. Without even realizing it, your own hand has slid to her waist, gently pulling her closer. Her perfume - a mix of something sweet and floral, maybe jasmine, maybe some kind of unknown magic - floods your senses, and for a moment, as absurd as it seems, the outside world completely disappears.

Chaeyoung is the first to pull away, her eyes still wide, as if she’s just reached nirvana. "That... that was amazing!" she says breathlessly, her voice full of awe.

You swallow. "Yeah... it was..." You try to find words, but your mind is still in a total void.

She smiles, so sweetly it’s almost disconcerting. "Did you know that was my first kiss?"

You freeze, the words first kiss echoing in your head like someone rang a giant bell beside you.

First kiss.

You just gave her her first kiss. And now, guilt starts flooding you. Because whatever this is, whatever is happening between you two, it definitely shouldn’t have gone this far.

And yet, here you are, with Chaeyoung still smiling, radiant like a ray of sunshine.

Before you can think of anything to say, the Uber’s horn blares outside again.

"Oh! The Uber!" she says, hurrying to the door, but before she leaves, she turns one last time with that spark in her eyes that makes you want to run to the other side of town. "I’ll come earlier tomorrow, okay? That way we can spend more time together! Thanks for the unforgettable night!"

And without waiting for a reply, she disappears through the door, leaving you standing there in the living room, trying to understand what on earth just happened.

—

You wake up Saturday to your phone vibrating on the nightstand. Still groggy, you glance at the screen. 6 new messages. All from Chaeyoung.

[08:22]

"Good morning! 🌞"

[08:23]

"Last night was magical... I can still feel your touch on my lips 💞"

[08:23]

"I can’t wait to see Garfield tonight!"

[08:24]

"Are you up yet? :)"

[08:40]

"Look at my scrambled eggs! 🍳"

(accompanied by a pic of... scrambled eggs, naturally).

[08:55]

"And my cat, Lily, is waiting to get to know you better! 🐱"

(a pic of her cat, apparently with no clue of what’s going on).

You sigh, rubbing your eyes to wake up fully. The day has barely started and Chaeyoung is already in fifth gear, ready to drag you along. But before you can come up with a response, your work group chat starts blowing up too. And now, less tired, you realize that it wasn't a good idea to tell the embarrassing details.

Strictly Serious and Professional Coworkers Group:

"GOOD MORNING LADIES!

Oh, especially to our Brad Pitt haha"

"By the way, how was the kiss? 😘"

"Does she already call you 'baby'??"

"I can't believe that even Chaeyoung is dating and I'm not 😂😂"

"Admit it, you’re in love!"

"Never thought I’d be excited for Monday"

You roll your eyes at the group messages, cursing your fate. "I need help, you guys took this way too far!" you type quickly.

“LOL chill, man, you’re in a rom-com!”

“Have you picked the wedding venue yet?”

“We helped you find the love of your life and this is how you thank us???”

“Hey, but seriously, take care of her, she seems really into you”

“Good luck, you’re gonna need it!”

“Is Garfield gonna be the best man?”

You put your phone down for a moment, hoping breakfast will bring some clarity. But the battle is only beginning. Chaeyoung keeps filling your inbox with updates about her morning, pictures of her next steps, and even a video of Lily scratching the couch.

Finally, you reply: "That’s nice, Chaeyoung. Have a great day!" She responds with a heart emoji.

The rest of the day passes agonizingly. Every half hour, a new message arrives. Pictures of her at the mall. Pictures of her eating ice cream. Pictures of Lily. She’s basically creating a diary just for you. You respond sporadically, with generic replies like "Cool" or "Cute cat," but without much enthusiasm. All in a desperate attempt not to encourage her even more.

Then, at 5:45 PM, you receive the most dreaded message: "I’ll be there at 7:00!!! :)"

You knew this moment was coming. You spent the whole day trying to come up with an excuse, and nothing brilliant struck your mind until this critical moment. But finally, you have an idea. The old, never-fail excuse: you’re going to say you’re sick.

"Ah, Chae… I think tonight’s going to be tricky. I’m not feeling well. I’ve got a fever and a headache"

You even add a sick emoji.

Who wouldn’t believe that?

Her reply comes almost instantly. "OMG!! What happened? Are you okay? Do you need me to bring medicine?"

"No need, I’ve already taken some. I just need to rest. We'll watch Garfield another day, I promise," you respond quickly, already feeling the vibe of a peaceful weekend.

"Aww, that’s a shame… I was so excited... :( Get better soon, sweetie 🥺"

You let out a long sigh of relief, finally thinking you're free, at least for a while. Silence falls like a comforting blanket over your house.

Peace at last.

Hours pass. You’re sitting on the couch, content, with a pizza, a cold beer, and a documentary about the Vietnam War on TV. Everything is as it should be, the natural order of things restored. Until… the doorbell rings.

You pause with the pizza halfway to your mouth.

"It can’t be her. I said I was sick."

Convinced it must be just a neighbor, you open the door with the skepticism of someone who’s seen too much of life.

But no, it’s not the neighbor.

It’s Chaeyoung.

And she’s holding a huge bag, with that cheerful smile like she’s been hired to keep you company in a cold medicine commercial.

"Surprise!" she says, walking through the door as if she already had a key. "I came to take care of you!"

Your mind freezes. For a second, you wonder if you’ve slipped into a parallel reality where "I’m sick" translates to "please come over and take care of me like I’ve broken both legs." She opens the bag and starts pulling out medicine, tissues, and even a thermos.

"I brought tea, meds, and I even made some soup!" She says it with the enthusiasm of someone who thinks they’re saving the day.

"Chaeyoung... you didn’t have to come..." you begin, trying to hide the confusion and panic already bubbling up inside you.

"Of course I did! What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of my baby?"

“Girlfriend?!”

Your brain almost short-circuits at that word.

"Yes! We’re in love with each other, we’re basically dating. You just need to make it official. And couples take care of each other!" She’s already taking off her coat and heading to the kitchen with the ease of someone in a '90s sitcom. "Don’t worry, I’ll handle everything. You just need to relax."

You’re left standing there in the living room, paralyzed. All you wanted was a quiet Saturday. Now, you're engulfed in the smell of soup and the absurd idea that you have a girlfriend who thinks Garfield and cold remedies are the foundation of a relationship.

She comes back with a steaming bowl of soup, handing it to you with a smile. "Here, love. This will make you feel better in no time!"

"Just… put the soup anywhere. I, uh, need to go to the bathroom real quick," you say, abruptly leaving the room.

You lock yourself in the bathroom, pulling your phone out of your pocket like a man on the edge of a breakdown. As the world outside gets increasingly... Chaeyoung, you open your friends' group chat, furiously typing:

"You're all dead. Every one of you!"

The reply comes in seconds, like hyenas circling a carcass.

"HAHAHAHA dude, you still haven't told her??"

"Seriously, someone help me. This girl’s completely in love, and it's getting out of hand. I can’t just tell her it was a prank, she'll be crushed"

"Imagine her face when she finds out, it’ll be like when Babe realizes he's NOT a herding dog"

"For the love of God, is anyone going to help me?"

A notification appears: Saerom was added to the group.

Great, Miss Nosy has entered the chat.

"I just found out what you guys did. You’re all jerks. Honestly, this prank went way too far!!"

You breathe a sigh of relief. An ally.

She continues:

"Don’t tell her it was a joke, or she’ll never step foot in the office again. You need to be more... gentle"

"Gentle? How am I supposed to be gentle?"

"Just make something up about being scarred by a past relationship, something unresolved. Say you like her but you're not ready"

"Past relationship? All my relationships were healthy... as much as they could be"

"Then use your imagination, genius. Lie and say it was traumatic. You need to talk to her before this gets out of control"

You thank her, knowing it’s going to be a disaster. But at least it’s a plan.

—

She takes another bite of your pizza, chewing absentmindedly while you take another spoonful of soup. The soup, to your surprise, isn’t bad. It's actually good, which only makes the situation more depressing. As you eat, your attention shifts to Chaeyoung, who’s happily nibbling the last slice of your pizza. You feel a pang of sadness and resignation; life really isn’t fair, but at least the soup is decent.

And then, out of nowhere, Chaeyoung starts talking about the past. Of course, she starts talking about the past, because what else did you need right now, besides a dive into emotional tragedies?

"You know," she says with a long sigh, as if recalling an old wound, "I was never one of those popular girls. Not in high school, not in college. I was always... invisible. Like, the kind of girl who’s in the group, but no one knows her name."

She leans in a little closer, her wide, bright eyes locked on you. "When I was in high school, there was a party that all the girls in my class were invited to. Me? Not even a mention. Not even an invitation. And the boys? They didn’t even know I existed. They were all more interested in the girls who wore lip gloss and knew how to walk in heels. I just... I just wanted someone, anyone, to notice me, you know?"

You feel the soup thickening in your mouth. "Yeah, I... I know what you mean." Of course, you know. Who doesn't? You’ve met plenty of girls like that, from middle school to high school.

But you also know that none of this is about you, so you swallow her sadness along with the soup.

"Then, in college, I thought things would change. I even made an effort, you know? I started dressing up more. I wore contacts instead of glasses. I tried to seem more... approachable? But guess what? Nothing changed." She shrugs, like she’s used to it, but you see a flash of pain in her smile. "I tried so hard to be nice to people, to be the perfect friend, the hardworking student... And I always ended up being the one who got forgotten when they made lunch plans after class. The other girls would get together to take cute pictures with their boyfriends, and me? Well, I took selfies with my cat."

You give a smile, and this time it’s not forced. There’s something genuine about the way she talks, a kind of sweet sincerity, even if a bit overdone. "Lily?"

She smiles. "Lily! Yeah. She’s the only one who’s been there for me, you know? Always listening, always understanding... She never judged me. And now, baby," - because of course, she keeps calling you that - "now I have you. And I never thought this would happen. I guess it was worth waiting all this time."

There’s something touching about all of this. What starts as a slight discomfort slowly turns into self-reflection. You always thought these stories were, deep down, about other people. But as she talks, you realize that maybe you understand exactly how she feels: that invisibility, the sense that the world keeps spinning without even noticing your presence.

And, before you know it, you start sharing a bit of your own past. Not the big details, but enough to fill the conversation. You talk about how quiet you were in school, how you had friends but were never the center of attention. "I was more the guy who stayed in the library while everyone else was playing basketball," you say.

She looks at you, almost shocked. "Really? You seem so... popular now. I mean, you talk to everyone at the office. People always listen to what you say."

You smile with a hint of irony. "I guess I learned to adapt."

"That’s amazing." Her eyes shine again, this time with genuine admiration. "I was never good at that. Adapting, I mean. That’s why it was so hard when I started at work... If you hadn’t been so kind to me at the beginning, I don’t even know how I would’ve managed."

And then, in a flash of courage you can’t quite understand, you let out a compliment. "You’re more adaptable than you think, Chae. And honestly, you look... really pretty today."

The smile she gives you could light up a stadium. "You really think so?”

"Yeah," you say, trying to keep your tone light, not wanting to put too much weight on the compliment, but already feeling the growing responsibility behind every word. "The makeup, the way you styled your hair. Everything."

She looks so radiant that you almost regret saying it. Almost. "Wow, you're the best! Seriously! I never thought a guy like you would even notice me. I know, for you, it must be normal to be... amazing." She looks down, her cheeks turning pink. "But for me, all of this is so new. It's like, all of a sudden, I’ve found... the perfect person."

Oh no.

The perfect person.

That phrase hits you like an invisible anvil.

Desperately searching for a way out, you look away. "Well, sometimes I think... a young bird shouldn't be trapped in a cage." You start rambling, hoping the metaphor will get through to her, but she just blinks, confused. "You know," you continue, already sweating internally, "birds should fly free, explore the world."

She nods, smiling. "Oh, yes, I totally agree! I think cages are cruel. I would never keep a bird trapped. They need to be free." And there goes your metaphor. You try to force a laugh, but it sounds like the creak of an old, rusty door. "Everyone should realize that, it's so obvious." Chaeyoung smiles, fully absorbed in her own romantic vision of things. "Like I was saying, I’ve found my person. And now, with you, I feel like I can finally be myself."

“Err, excuse me for a second,” you say, standing up from the couch, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

The tiled walls around you feel like the only safe place in the house. A precious moment to breathe, and of course, update the group:

"Dude, this is harder than I thought. She's opening up about her whole life and... God, it feels impossible to escape without breaking her"

The group chat starts popping off like popcorn in hot oil.

"Man, for the love of God, just tell her you have a traumatic past. Like, 'Oh, my heart's been broken and I'm not ready for this"

Naturally, someone else chimes in.

"Seriously, that excuse ALWAYS works. Girls don’t question it, they just give you that ‘aww, poor thing’ look, and you’re good"

"I'm scared she’s going to start crying. I can't handle girls crying"

You can almost hear the collective sigh of frustration from the other side of the screen.

"Crying? That's the least you're gonna have to deal with if you keep dragging this out. Seriously, if you were more direct, she’d be out of there by now"

"YOU’RE the ones who put this ridiculous idea in her head! It’s not like I asked for this mess"

"Yeah, but you’re the one letting it go on this long. We picked you as the target because you’re all mature and polite; we thought you could handle it"

"Dude, man up. What’s a few tears? You’ll survive. She’ll survive"

"Survive? I’m the only one here who had to hear about how her cat is the only being who’s ever loved her unconditionally since college! What do you want me to do? Crush her dreams with a sledgehammer?"

"Yes. That’s exactly what we want"

You’re about to type another angry response when Saerom steps in with a message.

"Guys, seriously, the problem is he's a coward. He’s afraid of a cute girl who just wants love. You're dragging this out unnecessarily. I'd say you’re even enjoying having a girl at your feet..."

Oh, Saerom, this is the same Saerom who was doubled over laughing at lunch yesterday when Chaeyoung smiled every time she looked at you. You take a deep breath before typing.

"Excuse me, WHO set this up in the first place? I know it wasn't me. And don’t pretend to be all sensible now, Saerom, I remember you making jokes about Chaeyoung when she first joined the company. Just a reminder: this fucking prank was NOT MY IDEA"

Saerom replies:

"And who’s feeding her delusion, pretending everything’s fine?

Exactly, YOU"

You lean against the sink, letting out a heavy sigh. This conversation is going nowhere. You didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask to be dragged into the emotional life of someone as intense and awkward as Chaeyoung. But here you are, suffering because you’re too nice, while your so-called friends are more interested in watching you struggle.

The mental alarm bell of "just end this already" rings in your head, but like a soldier without ammunition, you find yourself fighting through a minefield of hopes and expectations.

The truth is, as you type, you already know you won’t be able to be direct. Not with Chaeyoung, not with that strange mix of awkward sweetness and infectious enthusiasm she brings.

You don’t want to be the villain in her story.

"Fine, I’ll do something about it. But if she starts crying, that’s on you guys. You’ll all pay"

Taking a deep breath, you leave the bathroom, ready to put the plan in motion. But when you return to the living room, there's no sign of Chaeyoung. The TV is still on, some random show playing, but she... is gone.

"Chae?" you call, wandering through the house.

Nothing.

Then, you find her in the music room, admiring your vinyl collection. She’s standing in front of the shelves, her fingers gently brushing over the album covers.

"You have an amazing collection!" she exclaims, spinning on her heels to face you, her eyes full of admiration. "I had no idea you collected records!"

You try to downplay it. "Oh, it's just a silly hobby. I like music... and vinyl. There’s something more authentic about the sound, you know?"

She picks up an album, inspecting the cover art. "Wow. Led Zeppelin, The Smiths, Pink Floyd... You have great taste. This is so... you!" She smiles, as if that explains everything.

You chuckle. "Well, they’re classics, right?"

Chaeyoung moves from one record to the next. Each vinyl is treated like a relic, something precious, and you, watching from the other side of the room, can’t help but smile. It’s strange, but something about the way she marvels at your collection makes you... happy.

"Oh my God, you have The Beatles! I love them. Did you know I once painted a picture inspired by ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’? It was all in shades of purple and blue, kind of psychedelic, with floating stars and... Well, I’m terrible at describing it, but you get the idea!" Chaeyoung talks so fast that the words seem to trip over each other, as if they're racing to get out of her mouth.

"Wait, you paint?" The surprise in your voice is genuine. So far, Chaeyoung has been full of surprises, but the fact that she paints is something you definitely didn’t expect.

She beams, excited, putting the Beatles record back and turning to you with shining eyes. "Yeah! Ever since I was a kid, actually. In school, I was that weird girl who would be painting instead of paying attention in math class. Not that my teachers liked that, but I always thought art was more important than calculating angles."

You nod, genuinely intrigued by how interested you are. "And what do you paint besides psychedelic Beatles scenes?"

"Oh, a bit of everything! Nature, flowers, cats, starry skies... Mostly when I’m sad, I paint the night sky. The stars make me feel... less alone."

The image of Chaeyoung painting in silence, surrounded by colors and stars, fills your mind. And it’s impossible not to find her endearing in this moment. The energetic and slightly crazy girl who’s now in your house has a depth you hadn’t noticed before. You find yourself curious, more interested than you expected.

"I never imagined you were a painter," you say. "It must be nice to have something like that, to express how you feel."

She shrugs but smiles proudly. "Yeah, it helps. Sometimes life gets confusing, you know? And so do people. But when I paint, none of that matters. It's just me, the colors, and the rest of the world disappears."

You smile, stepping closer to her. "I'd love to see one of your paintings someday."

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she’s speechless, something rare for her. "Really? You’d like that?"

"Of course," you respond, without realizing just how honest you're being. "I think it’d be amazing."

Chaeyoung smiles so openly that you almost feel the room warm up. "I’d love to show you! I have a bunch at home. I thought about sending you some pictures today, but I wanted you to see them in person. I wanted it to be kind of a surprise."

You find yourself torn.

Now, seeing her here, excited about your records, almost dancing with every vinyl she picks up, you begin to feel something uncomfortable. Something that nags at your conscience like an itch.

Maybe, just maybe, you weren't as eager to end this as you thought.

Yes, all of this started as a big prank. Yes, your coworkers are a bunch of jerks who threw you into this situation without mercy. And yes, Chaeyoung… well, she’s a bit eccentric, to say the least. But there's something about her, a sincerity, a disarming purity, that makes it hard to keep thinking of her as just "the weird girl from the office."

You look at her now, smiling at something she found - a David Bowie album you’d almost forgotten you had. The way she interacts with your things, as if she’s discovering every part of you with the same enthusiasm a child would have opening a Christmas present. There’s no pretense in anything she does. Chaeyoung isn’t trying to impress you. She’s not here to prove anything. She’s just... herself. And as scary as that is, it’s also, in some way, comforting.

Suddenly, the excuse you were about to use - "I'm not ready, I'm still recovering from a bad relationship" - seems too fake to you.

A small voice - the kind that always knows more than the rest of you is willing to admit - whispers that maybe, just maybe, you’re overcomplicating things. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you just… let things happen.

“Are you okay?” Chaeyoung asks suddenly, turning to you with a smile.

“Yeah, just... thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” She approaches with her usual curiosity.

You hesitate. “I was thinking that... maybe I’ve been too quick to try and figure all this out.”

She frowns for a moment, trying to read between the lines. Then her face lights up. "You’re worried that things are moving too fast?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Look, I'm not good with this stuff. Dating, friendships, these... relationship rules. But I know I like you. And I know you make me happy. I don't know what else I should be thinking about besides that."

And in that moment, reality hits you hard. Maybe the problem was never Chaeyoung. Maybe the problem is you, stuck in an idea of how things should be, when in fact, what you’re experiencing now is as real as anything you could’ve planned.

"You're right," you say finally, feeling a strange mix of relief and acceptance. "I think I was overcomplicating it… By the way, can I ask if you're free tomorrow night?"

"Yes! Why?"

"I... was thinking... maybe I could take you out to dinner."

If she was excited before, now she looks like she’s won the lottery. "REALLY? Oh my God, yes! Of course, I’d love to!" She starts bouncing slightly, barely able to contain her excitement. "Oh wow, this is going to be amazing! I can't believe you want to take me out to dinner!"

"Yeah, well... I just thought it’d be nice. Nothing too fancy."

"Nothing too fancy?" She looks at you incredulously. "It’s the best thing ever! It’s going to be so romantic!" And then, without warning, she hugs you. "I knew you were a gentleman from the start!"

You clear your throat, feeling a bit awkward. "Well, uh... since it’s raining outside... do you want to stay over tonight?"

And if you thought she was happy before, now she’s absolutely over the moon. "OF COURSE I DO! Actually, when I came, I thought you were still sick, so I brought my pajamas. I thought maybe you'd need someone to take care of you."

She smiles with such genuine innocence that you almost forget you were plotting to end this a few minutes ago.

But the truth is, deep down, you’ve always found her oddness at work kind of... cute. Like that day she showed up with dinosaur socks under her business slacks. The whole office laughed behind her back, but you thought, in some way, it was adorable. And brave. She didn’t care about the unspoken rules of the workplace. She was just being herself, and that took a kind of strength you, for some reason, had never given proper credit to.

You remember when she opened her lunchbox during the lunch break, revealing a work of art made of food: rice in the shape of a heart, seaweed bears, and vegetables so well-arranged they looked like a painting. Everyone laughed, called it childish, but you... You found yourself admiring it. You didn’t say anything, of course. Stayed quiet. But, honestly, you thought it was incredibly creative.

And when she was in charge of organizing the year-end party? Everyone was horrified by the PowerPoint full of emojis and bouncing animations. To them, it was “corny”. To you, it was a genuine attempt to make something fun. Something you secretly admired. You could see how hard she had tried. But, as always, you bit your tongue, let the moment pass, and hid in the mediocrity of consensus.

Now, as she smiles at you, you have this epiphany: maybe you’ve always liked her. Not in the obvious, immediate way the rest of the world expects. But in a subtler, quieter way. The kind of attraction that comes from admiring someone for being authentic, for being weird in a way the rest of the world finds unsettling, but you... well, you’ve always found fascinating.

And then, there's the other thing: all this time, you weren't worried about her. You were worried about what others would think. That invisible weight you carry when you're around people who judge you for everything, even the way you look at someone. Your friends, the office, the behind-the-back laughter. They shaped you more than you wanted to admit. You stayed silent when they laughed at her, you let them guide your perception, even when, deep down, you knew something was off. And this makes you think that things would have to change now. No more complacency. No more jokes at Chaeyoung’s expense. Everyone in the office would treat her well from now on, and you would ensure that.

You realize it wasn’t her who pushed you away. It was your own cowardice. The way you let others influence what you felt. And now, seeing her here, surrounded by your records, you realize you’re more comfortable than you’ve ever been with anyone else.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask.

She stares at you for a second, maybe surprised by the softness of the question, but then she smiles. "Of course you can!"

And then, without further hesitation, you lean in and kiss her. It's the kind of kiss that makes time stop - or, at least, makes you wish it would. Her arms naturally find their way around your neck, and for a moment, it's just the warmth of her lips, the way she fits into you.

When you finally pull apart, breathless, she sighs and says, without any filter: "I like your lips."

You laugh, a little surprised by her bluntness. "That's a pretty... direct comment." But you can't help agreeing. "I like your lips too." And, without thinking much, you brush a strand of hair behind her ear. That gesture that should be cliché, but somehow, it fits.

You look at her, trying to guess what's going on in Chaeyoung's mind, who now has her eyes cast down, biting her lip, and you know the atmosphere is about to change.

"Do you... find me attractive?" The question comes out of nowhere, as if it escaped from the deepest corner of her mind. Her voice was a bit hesitant, but there was a raw honesty there. The kind of honesty you only find in children or in adults who've had more disappointments than they could count.

You stare at her, astonished, for two reasons. One, that she truly doesn't realize how attractive she is, and two, that the question seems to come loaded with a raw expectation of approval. "Of course you are," you say, with more certainty than you intended. "You're very attractive."

She blushes, and her fingers begin to nervously play with the fabric of her dress. "It's just... I've always wanted... you know... to experience that thing. And with you, the desire only grows," she admits, the words coming out in a nervous whisper. "I keep imagining all sorts of things... many things."

It's rare for you to be speechless, but here you are, completely disarmed by her confession. "I understand," you respond, trying to ignore the weight of it, but there's something in the way she looks at you, like she's trusting you with an immense secret, that makes your voice come out softer. And then, before the conversation can unravel, she rushes to continue:

"I don't want you to think I just... just see you like this, as if you're only... an object of desire , you know?" Her voice is a flurry of words, as if the mere act of speaking is the only way to keep from drowning in her insecurities. "I love everything about you - the way you care, the way you talk, the way you dress, your quirks... It's just-"

"Chae," you interrupt her with a smile, gently taking her hand. "It's okay. I get what you mean."

She seems relieved, but still a little lost, as if trying to realign her inner compass. You hold her hand more firmly, the warmth and firmness grounding her. "And if you want, if you feel comfortable... I don't see any problem with... well, us doing this."

The color deepens in Chaeyoung's cheeks, which seemed impossible, and she lets out a small sigh, almost as if absorbing the gravity of what you just said. "Do you think... it's not too fast?" Her voice is quieter now, more vulnerable. "I... I thought we'd only do this after, I don't know, getting married ." She laughs nervously.

You laugh too, the kind of laugh that makes the nervousness dissipate a little. "Married? That would take a long time." You lean in a little closer, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. "And honestly, it would be torture to wait that long, you know... with you being like this."

"Like what?" she asks, and there's genuine curiosity in her voice, almost childlike, as if she doesn't realize just how much Chaeyoung is... her.

"Like... you. So beautiful, so unique," you reply, your eyes locked on hers, hoping she understands that you truly believe this.

She looks away and murmurs, "I... I wouldn't be able to wait that long either." And then, with a kind of honesty that only Chaeyoung could muster, she adds, "Especially with you being so... hot."

You almost choke on the sincerity of her response, but before you can react, something inside you, perhaps an impulse you didn't even know you had, makes you act. With a sudden movement, you scoop her into your arms.

Chaeyoung lets out a small gasp of surprise, her arms wrapping around your neck. "W-what are you doing?" Her surprise is genuine, but there's a laugh hidden behind it.

"Taking you to the bedroom," you respond with a calm smile.

She looks at you, her face flushed and her eyes shining. "Are we... doing this now?"

"If you want," you say calmly.

Chaeyoung seems to reflect for a moment, but her eyes meet yours, and something shifts in her. "Yes," she murmurs, her voice soft but resolute. "I want to."

As you carry Chaeyoung to the bedroom, the rain continues to patter softly against the windows, as if providing the soundtrack to a scene even the gods of romantic comedies couldn't have predicted. When you lay her gently on the bed, you feel the weight of something larger than yourself approaching, a mix of desire and uncertainty that seems to hang in the air. But when your lips meet hers, all those thoughts simply... vanish.

She's warm, soft, and each kiss you share seems to last longer than the one before, as if time is slowing down, or maybe the rain outside is trying to set the pace.

You pull back for a moment, removing your shirt in a gesture you've probably done a million times, but to her, it seems incredibly unique, and Chaeyoung can't hide her surprise. Her eyes widen for a brief second before softening into something like admiration.

"Wow," she says, almost reverently, as if she's admiring a Renaissance masterpiece in a museum and not your body, which, to be honest, is far too generous a comparison, but let's go with it.

At that exact moment, your phone vibrates in your pocket, and for a second, the cruel and merciless universe reminds you of your friends' existence. You pull out your phone, read the messages - something like "so, did it work?" - and without thinking twice, you turn the device off.

"You... look so... sexy," Chaeyoung murmurs, then laughs a little, clearly fighting the shyness that's winning. "I've never... touched a man's bare chest before."

You smile slightly, moving closer again. "Then savor the moment," you say, and she hesitates before sliding her hands over your abdomen, her fingers exploring your skin with a shy curiosity, almost innocent. Her touch is light at first, but soon gains a bit more confidence.

Meanwhile, you kiss her neck, breathing in her sweet scent, and the way she shivers under your lips makes you lose yourself even more.

You begin to slide the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders, moving slowly, kissing every inch of exposed skin. When the dress reaches her waist, Chaeyoung, in a way that is both shy and determined, sits up slightly and pulls it off completely, letting it fall in a forgotten pile on the floor. Now, only in her panties and bra, she looks at you with wide, nervous eyes, as if waiting for your assessment.

And, of course, you can't hold back. "You're so beautiful, Chaeyoung." Your words are simple but carry a truth that, by the way she immediately blushes, impacts her more than any grand compliment ever could.

She looks away for a second, a shy smile playing on her lips. "I... I never thought that... anyone would think that." She shifts uncomfortably, but her discomfort only heightens her innocent charm.

You also stand, beginning to unbutton your pants, the sound of the buttons echoing almost like a beat amid the rain outside. "Lie down, Chaeyoung," you say softly, your voice gentle but firm.

She stays still for about three seconds before obeying, lying back on the bed, her body now completely surrendered to you, and to the moment that, suddenly, no longer seems so full of uncertainty.

Then, you gently spread Chae's legs in a way she didn't expect. Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling, but you notice the nervousness in her trembling fingers and the slight tapping of her feet. "It's okay," you whisper. She lets out a small laugh, the kind that only happens when someone is scared but wants to appear brave.

Kissing the inside of her thigh, you feel the shiver that runs through Chae's slender body. She can't hide the tension but says nothing, as if waiting for you to guide her through this unknown art. Your fingers glide against the thin fabric of her panties, and you feel the growing heat between her legs. "Relax," you say, even though you know relaxing is the last thing she's going to do right now.

When you slowly remove her panties, like you're unwrapping something fragile, Chae's scent fills the air. She holds her breath for a moment, and her eyes, once lost on the ceiling, now close. Vulnerable. You know she wants this, but you also know she has no idea what she's about to feel.

You move closer, gently running your fingers over her swollen lips, parting them slightly. Your mouth follows the touch of your fingers, but you don't go straight to the point. No, that would be too easy. Instead, you kiss around, intentional kisses, your tongue tracing paths on her sensitive skin. She lets out a soft moan, her hips trying to follow your mouth, but you don't let her dictate the pace.

With one last glance at her face - where her eyes are closed and her mouth is parted in a sigh - you finally touch her clitoris with the tip of your tongue. The reaction is immediate: a small jolt, a moan that echoes in the room, like her body was just switched on. You circle her clit slowly, alternating between soft and firmer licks, feeling the smooth texture under your tongue. Chaeyoung is starting to lose herself in the pleasure, and you know because her moans are getting louder, more insistent, her hips lifting off the bed in search of more.

"Mmm, p-please," she whispers, barely audible, as if she's afraid to ask for what she really wants. You answer her request, sucking on her clit more firmly as your fingers begin to explore deeper. You slide them inside her tight pussy slowly, while continuing to lick, feeling her body's response on your tongue. The warmth around your fingers, the pressure from her inner muscles that seem unwilling to let you go.

Tasting more of her with each new lick, your mouth becomes increasingly hungry, as if the only thing that matters in the world is how her body reacts to you. The heat radiating from between her legs is almost overwhelming, and her moans, once restrained, are growing louder, more desperate. She's no longer trying to hide anything.

She just wants more. Simply more.

You stop fingering her pussy for a moment, just to hold her thighs, your hands firm as you keep her legs open, which keep trying to close, your tongue sliding over her clit in quick, intense movements. Her taste is strong now, a mix of salt and desire that makes you want everything. You feel her body tremble, her hips moving against your mouth, seeking more contact, more pressure. She is completely surrendered.

“Mmm, please… don’t stop!” she moans, her voice shaky and almost sobbing. You laugh against her skin, the sound muffled between Chae's legs, and reply with a quick glance, your eyes fixed on her face, contorted in desire.

"Are you going to come for me, Chae?" you murmur, your voice husky as your fingers slide back inside her, filling her completely. She lets out an even louder moan, her body arching, her inner muscles tightening around her fingers. "Tell me, Chae... tell me what you want," you tease, your mouth not stopping, your tongue focused on her clit while your fingers penetrate her deeply, each movement a new shock of pleasure.

“I... I'm gonna... Oh my God! II can't..." she tries to speak, but the words are lost among the moans. She's on the edge, holding on by a thread, and you can feel it. She's struggling to maintain control, but she won't last much longer.

“Go ahead,” you whisper against her, sucking her clit harder now, your mouth fully covering it while your fingers continue relentlessly. “I want you to come. Now. In my mouth.”

It's all she needed to hear. With one last loud moan, almost a scream, her body completely loses control. Her hips lift off the bed, pressing your mouth against her pussy, as if trying to swallow you. Her taste explodes on your tongue, a hot, salty rush that you devour like a reward. Chaeyoung comes hard, her body trembling violently, each moan louder than the last until she's practically sobbing from the pleasure.

You don't stop. You keep sucking, drawing out every drop, as if you want to prolong the moment, wanting more of her, wanting to feel everything. "That's it, baby… Come more, " you murmur against her, your voice almost a growl. Her moans are wild now, completely out of control, and you know you've pushed her past a limit she never knew existed.

“Please, stop! Mmm, I c-can’t anymore!” she moans, her voice trembling, as if begging for mercy, but you can tell that part of her wants you to take her even deeper. Every part of her body tightens, surrenders, and you only stop when you feel she's completely exhausted, her muscles still pulsing around your fingers.

You move up her body, her taste still on your lips, your breath heavy. Chae's face is a beautiful mess of sweat, pleasure, and confusion, but you smile, knowing what comes next.

You love this part.

“Now,” you say in a low, almost commanding voice, “I want you to feel what I did.”

Before she can process what that means, you kiss her, deep and wet, your tongue slipping into her mouth, letting her taste herself. At first, she hesitates, but soon her moans turn into something new, something that mixes with the taste you just took from her. She kisses you back, hungry, and what started as vulnerability is slowly turning into something much more lustful, more intense, and carnal.

You trail kisses down Chae's body, every inch of her skin seems simply irresistible. Her breathing quickens as you descend, her hand brushing the sheets as if searching for something to hold onto, something stable. When you reach her small, delicate breasts, you slowly pull down her bra with deliberate slowness, exposing them as if standing before something precious. Your lips touch one of her nipples, soft at first, a light suction that makes her arch her body. A soft, trembling moan escapes Chae, and you feel her fingers tighten around the fabric of the bed.

“Are you enjoying it?” you murmur against her skin, your hand now playing with her other breast, fingers teasing, squeezing lightly.

She just nods, her eyes closed, lips parted as she whispers a faint “Yes, so much... Mmm, keep going...” barely audible. There's a vulnerability in her tone, something between desire and the fear of being completely consumed by it. You obey, sucking her nipple harder, her moans growing louder, more uncontrolled, as your other hand continues to explore.

But you don't want to rush anything.

You want every touch to be a memory, something she'll feel even after it's all over.

When you stop and stand to grab the condom from the nightstand, Chae looks confused for a second, her body shifting slightly, as if sensing the absence of your touch. You pull off your boxers, the cool air brushing your skin, and her expression changes. Chae's eyes, once full of nerves, now sparkle with something different, something curious.

She watches in silence as she takes off her bra, almost mesmerized, while you put on the condom. There's something intense in that moment, in her silent admiration, like she's processing everything at once.

“I'll go slow,” you say, kneeling back on the bed, gently lifting her legs around your waist. “If it hurts too much, let me know, okay?”

Chae bites her lip and nodes, her eyes locked on yours. “I trust you... just... take it easy.”

You position yourself, the tip of your cock touching her entrance, warm and tight. The moment stretches, the air heavy between you. Slowly, you begin to push in, and the sound she makes is a mix between a moan and a sigh. The sensation is intense, her tightness almost painfully constricting. You move forward slowly, every inch feels like a battle against her body, which gradually adjusts and gives way, millimeter by millimeter.

Chae bites her lip hard, her face flushed, her hands gripping her arms as if seeking something to hold onto. “Are you okay, baby?” you ask, pausing for a moment, noticing the slight tremble in her lips.

She nods, her voice is soft and hesitant. “Yeah... I'm okay. It’s just… it’s too big.”

You smile gently, wanting to reassure her. “I'll go slow, I promise.” And with that, you start moving again, pushing in slowly until you're fully inside her. Chae lets out a long moan, her eyes tightly shut. She's so tight that every movement feels like a challenge, but you hold back, maintaining control.

Then, as you pull out slightly, you notice a small trace of blood. Her hymen had broken. “Chae,” you say, your voice filled with concern. “There's a bit of blood... how are you feeling?”

She opens her eyes, still flushed, breathing heavily. “I'm... I'm okay. It's just... strange... but... it feels good too...”

You watch her for a moment, searching for any signs of discomfort beyond what she admits. Then you continue, moving a little faster, a little deeper, and her moans start to shift in tone, the pain slowly giving way to pleasure. With each thrust, you feel her body adjusting, relaxing, the initial resistance fading away.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” you whisper as you keep thrusting into her.

You lean over her, her body trembling beneath you, her small breasts pressed against your chest. Her skin is warm, sweaty, and you can feel every shaky breath she exhales as you move inside her. Your cock slides deep, her tightness gripping you like a vice. She lets out a loud moan, her arms wrapping around your neck, her legs tightening around your hips, holding you as if afraid to let go.

“Do you like it, Chae?” you ask, your voice low and rough in her ear. You can feel her heart racing, and it only makes you want more.

She tries to answer, but everything that comes out is a moan, a broken sound of pleasure. You smile against her neck, kissing the delicate skin, tasting her sweat. “Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you're feeling.”

“Fuck, y-you're driving me crazy...” she manages to mutter, her voice cracking as you thrust deep, each stroke making her arch against the bed. “I've... I've never felt anything like this.”

You kiss her neck, sucking the sensitive skin, leaving marks that will last. “Your pussy's so wet,” you murmur against her skin, lightly biting her earlobe. “Feels like your body was made for this... for me .”

Chae lets out a high-pitched moan, her hips trying to match your rhythm, but you're in control. You thrust deeper, harder, feeling her body write with each push. “Do you feel how deep I am inside you? My thick, hard cock filling every inch of your pussy.”

She can only moan in response, her fingers digging into your back, scratching the skin as pleasure overwhelms her. And you love this, love seeing this beautiful, naïve, innocent girl lose all control because of you. It's like you're sculpting every sensation, molding her pleasure to your will. And the fact that it's her first time only makes it more addictive.

“You sound so sexy, moaning in my ear while I fuck you… Tell me, Chae, do you want more?” you ask, your voice dirtier now, and she nods frantically, her eyes squeezed shut, her face flushed with both shame and excitement.

“Yes, please... don't stop!” she begs, her voice cracking as you continue to fuck her. “You fuck me so good!”

You pick up the pace, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the room. Your cock slides deep, as deep as you can go in this position, and she lets out a loud, desperate moan. “You like it like this, huh? Getting fucked hard, knowing how much I'm loving fucking this virgin pussy!”

Chae writhes beneath you, her moans growing louder, faster.

She’s losing herself, another orgasm is close.

And you’re going to take it from her.

“Now let’s lie on our side, princess,” you say with a final kiss.

You turn her over carefully. She obeys, her body already limp, fully surrendered to you. Now, you position yourself behind her, your bodies aligned, so close that you can feel every breath she takes, every nervous twitch.

“Yeah, like this, Chae…” you murmur in her ear, a filthy undertone hidden in the words. With one hand, you guide your cock back inside her, the tight, wet sensation making both of you moan at the same time. Your hand now slides slowly down her side, feeling the warmth of her sweaty skin, the uneven rhythm of her breathing.

“You like this, don’t you?” you tease, your voice low, as you continue to thrust slowly, each stroke deep and calculated. Chaeyoung responds with a loud moan, her eyes closed, head tilting back, resting on your shoulder.

“Y-yes, yes! I love it…” Her voice trembles with each word, as if the pleasure is making it difficult to even think. The raspy sound of every moan only spurs you to go deeper.

You kiss her slender shoulder, your hand moving up the curve of her waist to her breasts. Her skin is hot and slick with sweat, her entire body vibrating with the intensity of the experience. Your fingers squeeze one of her breasts, firm enough to elicit another moan from Chaeyoung, who begins to move, her hips pushing back against you, craving more.

“Ohhh, that feels so good! Harder…” she begs, almost breathless, her voice cracking with need. And you comply, the thrusts becoming faster, more intense, the rhythm of your bodies crashing together, primal and instinctive.

“You’re so tight, Chae… you’re driving me crazy…” you whisper, your mouth moving from her shoulder to her neck, sucking and nibbling softly as you keep thrusting deeply. She moans louder, her nails digging into the sheets.

“The first time… I never imagined it would be like this…” she murmurs between moans, her voice almost fading, as if she’s on the verge of losing her ability to speak. “It feels so good… so… Oh, you fuck me so well!”

You chuckle softly, satisfied. “You’ll remember your first fuck forever, Chae... You’ll remember how I made you come.”

And somehow, that ignites something inside her.

You feel Chae’s body start to writhe, her moans growing louder, more desperate. She’s close, you can tell. The hand that was on her breast now slides slowly down her body, and without warning, you grasp Chae’s slender neck, your fingers wrapping around it firmly, just enough to show her the control you have over her.

She gasps, her eyes widening in surprise, and her body responds immediately, arching against you, tightening around your cock. “You like this, don’t you, Chae?” your voice comes out hoarse, and she answers with a moan, the most primal sound you’ve ever heard.

“Y-yes, fuck!... yes, I… I love it!” She can barely form the words, her moans mixing with her ragged breaths. And it only makes you hungrier, more eager to push her beyond her limits.

You pick up the pace, thrusting harder, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room, and you squeeze her neck a little tighter, feeling her shudder under your touch. “Tell me, baby… Tell me what you want.”

She’s panting, her whole body drenched in sweat, her eyes shut. “More… please… Fuck me faster… harder…” Her voice breaks between the pleas, her moans becoming nearly screams of pleasure. “Fuck my pussy good, make me your little slut!”

“Like this?” you ask, and before she can respond, you obey, pounding into her with even more intensity, your cock driving into her with such force that Chae’s body slams against you, nearly folding under the impact.

“Ahhh… yes! Like that! Fuck… keep going, don’t stop!” She’s losing herself, her body responding instinctively to the pleasure, and Chae’s face twists, her eyes rolling back as you fuck her relentlessly. “I-I’m yours, baby… all yours! Fuck me harder!”

You pull her body closer, your fingers still gripping her neck, controlling every movement as you continue to pound deep, without pause. “You’re becoming such a dirty little girl, Chae. A slut who loves my cock!”

She bites her lip hard, her eyes barely open enough to meet yours. “Yes! I’m… I’m your slut… please, don’t stop… make me come again!”

You fuck her even faster, your hand tightening on her neck, dominating her completely. Each thrust is harder, deeper, until her body starts to tremble again, her moans growing louder, more intense.

“You’re going to come again, aren’t you?” you murmur, your face close to her ear, your breath hot against her skin. “You love coming on my cock, don’t you, Chae? Such a dirty slut! I want to feel you come… now!”

And that pushes her over the edge.

Her body explodes against you, writhing, trembling, and she screams as the orgasm overtakes her. “Ahhh… fuck… I'm cumming … I'm… ahhh!” The pleasure ripples through her like an electric shock, her muscles squeezing your cock so tight you can barely hold back.

You keep fucking her as she comes, drawing out her orgasm, her moans oscillating between pleasure and despair. “Yeah, that’s it, Chae… come for me… come on my cock, baby.” And she does, her whole body shaking, completely surrendered to the pleasure you’ve taught her to feel, until the tremors slowly subside, and she’s completely spent, her body limp in your arms, breathing heavily.

But you’re not done yet.

You feel Chae’s body still trembling in your arms, but you don’t give her even a second to rest. You lift her from the bed with a near predatory strength, your arms wrapping around her slim, delicate waist, and in one firm motion, you hoist her into the air, her legs instinctively wrapping around you. The look on Chaeyoung’s face is a mix of surprise and pure lust, her pupils blown wide, her body molding to yours as you hold her aloft.

“You’re going to fuck me like this?” she asks, her voice shaky, almost disbelieving, but clearly begging for more.

“Yes, like this,” you reply with a lascivious smile, positioning her so your cock slips back inside her. Her weight only amplifies the intensity of each thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mixed with Chae’s high-pitched moans and your heavy breathing. Her body rises and falls, her arms wrapped around your neck, her legs clinging tightly to your waist.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” you ask, your lips brushing her ear, your hot breath making her shiver. She’s completely vulnerable, surrendered, and the feeling of power only drives you deeper into this lust.

“Yes… yes… more…” Chaeyoung whispers between moans, nearly crying from the overwhelming pleasure. “It feels so good… please… don’t stop…”

The way she says it, with so much need, with so much desperation, only drives you further. You fuck her harder, the intensity of each thrust ripping short cries of pleasure from her. She can’t control the sounds escaping her throat, and you know she’s loving every second, loving the way she’s being taken by you, losing her virginity in a way she never imagined.

You fuck her mid-air with almost animalistic force, your hands firmly gripping her slender waist, guiding her movements. Your lips meet hers with urgency, a wet, clumsy, heated kiss. Her tongue searches for yours with desperate hunger, and you respond, exploring her mouth as you keep thrusting deep, each move making her moan louder than the last.

“Can you feel my cock being shoved deep into your tight little pussy?” you murmur between kisses, your voice low and hoarse, sweat dripping down your body as pleasure begins to blur into exhaustion.

“Yeah!! Please… don’t stop!” Chaeyoung practically begs, her voice thin, loaded with desire. Every word she speaks is a breathy gasp, her eyes half-closed like she’s lost in a storm of pleasure.

“Look at you... so submissive... clinging to me like your life depends on it,” you tease, nibbling her earlobe as you fuck her even harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud, dirty, and her body moves wildly with each thrust.

“I-I love it! I love being yours!” Chae confesses, her eyes fully closed, her body trembling as you feel the spasms tightening around your cock. “Fuck me more... dominate me... use me however you want!”

Her filthy words make you lose any remaining control. Your mouth trails down her neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks, to remind her later of how you claimed her that night.

“You want more? Want me to fuck you until you forget your own name?” you whisper against her sweaty skin.

“Yes, baby! Yes… I want it,” Chae moans, her lips trembling as pleasure overtakes her.

You feel the heat rising, the climax almost at the door, and in one quick, rough motion, you sit up on the bed, Chaeyoung on your lap. “Then ride me,” you command, your voice raspy and authoritative, locking eyes with her.

She hesitates for only a second before letting out a low moan and beginning to move. Her legs trembling, she adjusts herself on top of you, your cock slipping back inside her. Her hands rest on your shoulders as she starts to ride, her breathing heavy, each movement eliciting short, sharp moans.

“That’s it, like that! Faster, Chae,” you urge, your hands gripping her waist, helping her keep pace. Her body moves up and down, each motion driving you deeper inside her, each moan louder, more desperate. “You’re so fucking tight… so good… I won’t last much longer, baby,” you warn, your eyes narrowing as you watch her face contort with pleasure, her lips parted, eyebrows arched in pure ecstasy.

“I want you to cum…” Chae responds, her voice barely audible from how breathless she is. “Please cum for me… I want all your hot cum in me.”

You grip her slender waist tighter, your fingers digging into her warm, soft skin, guiding her firmly, demanding more.

“Come on, Chae, I’m almost there... Faster,” you command. “I want to feel you really fuck me.”

Chae bites her lip, her messy hair falling over her shoulders as she tries to speed up, her legs trembling with the effort. With every move, her body sinks deeper onto you, drawing sharp, desperate moans from her. Your fingers dig even harder into her waist, guiding her, controlling the rhythm, forcing her to go faster than her body was prepared for. She has no choice but to follow your lead, her entire body surrendering to this frenzy.

“Your pussy is so wet, Chae, fuck…” you groan through clenched teeth, pulling her closer until your bodies are pressed together. “Can you feel how hard you’re making me? How much horny you're driving me?!”

“I... I feel everything,” Chae responds between moans, her voice breaking from the overwhelming pleasure. “I can’t... I can’t stop... it feels so good...” She keeps grinding on top of you, her movements faster, more intense. Sweat drips down her body, shining under the soft light of the room, and you get lost in the sight of her - her face twisted in uncontrollable pleasure, her legs shaking as she struggles to keep up the pace.

Without warning, you lean forward and capture one of her small breasts in your mouth, sucking hard. The taste of her skin is salty with sweat, but addictive. You suck her nipple intensely, your tongue playing, teasing, while one hand moves to the other breast, squeezing, tugging, teasing the sensitive nipple.

“Oh, fuck!” Chae cries out, her body shuddering violently from the impact of your lips on her breasts. “Please... Please, don’t sto- Oh god! I love your mouth on my breast!!” She throws her head back, her hands digging into your shoulders as you keep her moving, riding faster than ever.

You suck harder, your teeth grazing lightly, making her moan even louder. Each thrust she makes over you brings you closer to the edge, and the feel of her trembling body, mixed with the taste and texture of her delicate skin, makes you lose all control. Your fingers keep gripping her hips, guiding her with a speed she can barely keep up with.

“Come on, Chae... faster... ride me hard!” you growl, your teeth still around her nipple, your eyes half-closed in pleasure.

“I... can’t...” she moans, her eyes filled with pleasure and desperation, but even so, she tries. Her hips rise and fall faster, her movements nearly frantic as she tries to push you over the edge.

“Yes, you can,” you whisper with a wicked smile, your hand sliding down her sweaty back to grab her ass, pulling her down hard each time she rises. “And you’re loving every second... look at you, so obedient... so submissive...”

“I am... I love it! Fuck, I never thought it would feel this good!” Chae can barely speak between moans, her body now practically convulsing with pleasure. “Fuck me... fuck me more, baby... please!”

You continue to suck her, switching breasts, leaving the other one equally sensitive and swollen, while your hands squeeze her ass.

“You’re going to cum again, aren’t you?” you tease, your tone cruel, feeling her on the verge of losing control.

“Yes... yes... I’m going to cum... again... I can’t take it anymore...” Chae cries out, her face contorted with pure pleasure, and you can feel the spasms starting to tighten around your cock. Each of her movements becomes uncoordinated, but that only brings you closer to your own climax. Her body contracts and explodes into a devastating orgasm, her moans loud and uncontrollable, her hips nearly frozen as she’s overtaken by the overwhelming pleasure.

You don’t stop, even as she trembles beneath you, her moans turning into sobs from the accumulated pleasure.

“You know what’s the best part?” you say between ragged breaths, your mouth close to her neck, kissing gently. “You’ll never forget this… how I made you cum so many times.”

Chaeyoung responds with a long moan, her body completely surrendered to you. “I know... I want you to fuck me like this... every day.”

You continue to move her hips slowly, as she’s too weak to do it herself. Each thrust inside her takes you closer, the tight heat of Chae’s body making you lose control. “I’m almost there... where do you want me to cum, Chae?

She hesitates for a second, then timidly murmurs, “On my face, sweetie.. please, cum on my face.”

The way she says it, with that soft, almost innocent voice, is enough to push you to the edge. You feel the lust explode inside you, and the image of Chae’s delicate face covered in your thick cum only heightens your desire.

“Fuck, baby, you're such a naughty girl,” you tease, your voice deep, filthy, as you keep moving her trembling body against yours. “You want me to cum all over your pretty little face, huh?”

Chaeyoung just nods, unable to form words, her moans now almost whispers. “Yes, baby, please... please...” She’s nearly crying from so much pleasure, her body completely at your mercy.

“Then get on your knees for me. I’m gonna cover your face with my thick load.”

Chaeyoung slowly slides off your lap, carefully kneeling on the floor, still trying to regain control of her trembling legs. Her eyes are fixed on you, wide and full of anticipation.

You take off the condom, your breathing fast and uneven, and she immediately wraps her lips around your cock, sucking with such intensity that it almost makes you lose balance. Her taste is still on your dick, and she seems to savor it, her eyes closed, her tongue’s movements deliberate, slow.

“Suck more… Yeah, just like that, baby,” you groan, your fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her as she obeys, sucking with an almost insatiable hunger.

You feel your climax approaching, control slipping away with each passing second. Chae's body is kneeling in front of you, her wide eyes full of anticipation, fixed on you as if she's ready to receive something precious. Her chest rises and falls quickly, her breath heavy, mingled with the palpable excitement in the air. You can’t hold back any longer.

"Are you ready, Chae?" you ask, your voice hoarse, your body trembling with tension as you grip your cock, holding it tight at the base.

She nods quickly, her eyes shining with desire. "Yes... yes... I want your cum on my face." Her voice carries a shy, exciting tone, and it only makes your need grow. You start jerking yourself harder, your cock throbbing in your hand. "Cover my face with your hot cum, baby!"

Those dirty words, spilling from such a delicate mouth, make your cock twitch in anticipation. "Fuck, I'm so horny!!" you growl, holding the base of your cock and pointing it directly at her face.

"Yes... make me filthy... I've always wanted to feel this," Chaeyoung replies.

You can’t hold back anymore. "Fuck, I’m cumming, Chae!" you say through gritted teeth as the pleasure builds to a breaking point.

She can only whisper, "Yeah, please, cum-" before the first spurt hits her cheek directly. Chae gasps, but doesn’t look away. Your fingers continue moving quickly at the base of your cock, another thick shot hitting her other cheek, chin, and a little bit of her forehead.

“Oooh! Yeeaah! Mmm, that’s so fucking good,” you moan, overcome with pleasure. "You look so beautiful covered in my cum,” you groan. “I knew you’d love this… look at you, all messy.”

Holding the base of your still hard, throbbing cock, you guide it toward Chae’s face. Her body is completely surrendered, panting, her eyes half-closed, a lazy smile of satisfaction forming on her lips.

“Look at me,” you command, as the tip of your cock touches her cheek, spreading the remnants of your cum across her delicate skin. Chaeyoung obeys, lifting her face with a gaze filled with adoration and bliss. You begin brushing your cock against her face, slowly, savoring the warm, sticky sensation.

The remaining cum smears and glistens on her skin under the soft bedroom light. First her cheek, then you move to her mouth, tapping your cock lightly against her lips. Without hesitation, she opens her mouth slightly, running her tongue lightly over the tip. Just seeing her, dirty and submissive, sends another wave of pleasure through your body.

“Tell me how much you're enjoying this,” you tease, the tip of your cock tracing her chin, spreading your cum over every inch it can reach.

Chaeyoung only moans, a low, satisfied sound, moving her face to meet each brush of your cock as if wanting more. “I'm… loving it,” she murmurs, her voice broken with desire, eyes closing again as your cock glides over her forehead, leaving a trail of cum. “I love being yours… your dirty little slut.”

“This is what you wanted? To be like this, all marked by me?” you ask with a wicked smile, leaning forward to rub your cock against the tip of her nose, dirtying her even more.

“Yes...” Chaeyoung whispers, her tongue trying to reach the head of your cock again. “You're making me feel so slutty.”

The way she speaks, the devotion in her voice, just makes you want to keep going. You cover her completely, your cock painting her face with cum, the sides of her mouth, her eyes, everywhere. And each time you touch her, Chaeyoung seems to enjoy it even more, her eyes closed, as if she’s in pure ecstasy from being covered in your cum.

Chae licks her lips, savoring what’s left of your cum, her gaze locked on you, more lustful than ever. “I want more, baby…” she whispers, her shy tone now replaced by something more primal. She leans forward, and without hesitation, closes her lips around the head of your cock again, sucking with a pressure that makes you see stars.

“Fuck, Chae! Fuck…” you moan loudly, your body arching involuntarily as she sucks slowly, each of her movements intentional, prolonging your pleasure as the last spasms of orgasm ripple through you. She plays with her tongue around the head, exploring, savoring, while her hands softly caress your balls.

“Your cock tastes so good,” Chaeyoung murmurs, and then her lips press back against your cock. “I like making you lose control like this,” she says with a small smile.

She gives another slow lick before releasing your cock with a wet pop, her eyes rising to meet yours, her cheeks and chin still gleaming with your cum. You can hardly believe the sight before you: Chaeyoung, your awkward workmate, covered in your cum, satisfied, with a new confidence shining through her former shyness.

“Wow, Chae… you're beautiful like this… Seriously, so beautiful,” you say breathlessly, the words escaping as an admiring whisper.

Chae lowers her eyes, a small, embarrassed smile playing on her lips, but there's pride in the way she wipes the corner of her mouth with her hand. “D-did I do it right?” she asks softly.

“Fuck, you have no idea.”

—

The hot water falls like a liquid curtain, each drop seems to soften the moment, making your touch even more intimate. You're gently soaping her shoulder with a tenderness that can only come from that strange mix of desire and affection now hanging between you. Chaeyoung is quiet, which, you note with some surprise, is a rarity. Maybe she's still processing what just happened. You decide to break the silence because, frankly, the idea of stillness while sharing the same space with her feels strange.

“So... was it everything you expected?”

She lifts her head, blinking as if she's just emerged from a dream. And in a way, you think that's exactly what's happening. A slow, wide smile spreads across her face. “It was better ,” she says, with a restrained enthusiasm that would melt anyone's heart. “I... I never thought it'd be like this. I mean, I always imagined it would be good, but not this good.” She giggles, a giggle that starts shy but bursts into full laughter. “You're really perfect!”

This word again.

You feel the blush rise to your face, and it's not just from the hot steam. Perfect is too strong of a word for you; Honestly, it's too strong of a word for anyone. "Me? Perfect? I don't know if I'd say that.”

She hugs you suddenly, her wet arms wrapping tightly around your chest, as if she's making sure you won't disappear like a soap bubble. “I'm serious,” she murmurs against your skin, her voice muffled but full of sincerity. “The way you made me feel... I never... never imagined it. Three times, do you know? How is that even possible?” She laughs again, this time with a slightly mischievous glitter in her eyes. “It was so intense. But now, you're being so gentle with me. You're not just amazing in bed, you're amazing outside of it too.”

The mention of “three times” makes you smile.

Okay, you're a little proud, not going to lie.

But what strikes you the most is the way she talks about you, like you're some kind of medieval knight who rescued not a damsel in distress, but a damsel who didn't even realize she was venturing into unknown territory.

“I just wanted you to feel good,” you say, not really sure where to put your hands, despite them being occupied with her. “And I also... felt really good, Chaeyoung. It was special.”

She looks at you with those big eyes, as if the whole world is contained within the four walls of the bathroom. “I feel so lucky to have found you,” she says, her tone pure reverence. “It's so perfect it feels like a dream. I guess that's why I feel this need to hug you, to make sure you're real."

“Someone like me? Chaeyoung, you're amazing... And adorable. I'm nothing like that, I'm just a man.” She makes a doubtful face, but you continue. “I mean it. You have this... this thing that no one else has. You're genuine, do you know? No filters. It's rare to find someone like that. I'm the lucky one to have you here with me.”

She blushes, the steam from the shower intensifying the pink glow on her cheeks. “Do you really think that?”

“Absolutely,” you reply, without hesitation. “You know, maybe it took me a while to realize it... but yeah.”

She smiles shyly, that smile that suggests a mix of insecurity and hope. “I... I know I'm a bit weird. But I'm so happy that you like me like this, that you are not ashamed of me. I w-want to be with you.. I want to be with you forever!”

And it's at that moment that you feel the weight of those words.

Forever.

You know how amazing emotional that sounds. The idea of "forever" should make you back away, fill you with panic. But... it doesn't. Strangely, you don't feel that natural and immediate urge to run when a girl you barely know says something like that.

You look at her and, in that instant, accomplish something. Maybe that stupid prank your friends pulled on you dragged you into something you would've never chosen on your own. But, and here's the irony of fate, now it doesn't seem like a bad thing. Maybe, behind all the laughter and the initial confusion, something genuinely good has emerged.

You smile at her, a smile that starts light but turns into something bigger, something real. “You know, Chaeyoung... I think this whole thing... this mess... maybe it's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time.”

She blinks, a little confused, but the smile never leaves her face. “What? What mess?”

You laugh, this time with genuine lightness. Of course, she has no idea what you're talking about. “It's hard to explain. But you... I think you're exactly what I needed.”

“We're like... you know what?" She leans in to give you a kiss. "Like ice cream and fries!"

You raise an eyebrow.

“Ice cream and fries?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Two things you wouldn't think go together, but when they do... it's perfect. Sweet and salty. Hot and cold. Like us.”

“Ice cream and fries, huh? I guess it makes sense... in a very Chaeyoung way of seeing things.”

“Exactly!” She pulls back a bit to look at you, her face lit up by a smile. “Maybe some people would say we're an unusual couple. But you know what's unusual? It's that these strange combinations end up being the best ones.”

Now you lean in, kissing her lightly on the lips. “You know what? That makes total sense.”

When you finally leave the bathroom and get dressed, the rain outside still taps against the window, rhythmic, like a reminder that the world keeps spinning. Chaeyoung puts on her pajamas - the ones she brought to "take care" of you - and, with a satisfied expression, throws herself onto the bed with a carefree joy.

You sit beside her, admiring her for a moment.

“Now,” she says, with that sudden excitement you're starting to recognize as her trademark, “we should watch Garfield! After all, you promised, remember?”

You chuckled, shaking your head.

Of course she'd remember.

“All right. Let's watch Garfield.”

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