everything i like about chaehyun (remastered)

Waking up to the smell of bacon and eggs wafting through your place is something that almost never happens. Sure, they’re in your fridge, but they were never actually bought with breakfast in mind.

No, those were almost certainly purchased by the girl who’s cooking them right now.

Kim Chaehyun.

Your relationship with her is… 'complicated' is a word for lesser things. This is a category-five hurricane of emotional and physical entanglement that defies simple labels. Fuckbuddies doesn’t even cut it.

You remember her at 3 AM, soaked to the bone, her hair plastered to her face, makeup running in dark rivulets down her cheeks. She'd looked up at you with those big, impossibly expressive eyes, and your personal 'no-idiots-at-3-AM' policy had evaporated like mist in the sun. Chaehyun at your door has a 100% success rate, rain or shine, apocalypse or not. This morning is a prime reason why.

The babe is in your kitchen, frying stuff up in a…pot? 

And she’s wearing nothing but your dollar store white apron that says Fuck the cook, stained with smudges of pancake batter. Fitting.

The thin white fabric wrapped around the back of her neck and also tied in a neat bow around her waist, but that was all it did. Behind, it hid almost nothing. The apron strings framed the dramatic dip of her lower back before flaring out over the full, generous swell of her ass. Her hips were wide and soft, and her thick thighs pressed together slightly as she shifted her weight from one bare foot to the other. Every small movement made the heavy, plush weight of her tits sway gently beneath the front panel of the apron. You could see the generous curves of side-boob spilling out on both sides. Smooth, pale skin glowing in the morning light, the faint natural weight of them making the fabric strain just enough that one wrong breath might let a nipple slip free. Not to mention the one or two drops of pancake batter on her tits, adding on to the whole lewd look.

Chaehyun greets you cheerfully like she isn’t dressed like temptation supreme pro max. She catches your movement and turns her head, a bright, genuine smile lighting up her face. She looks completely, utterly unbothered. Like standing in a near-stranger's kitchen at dawn, wearing nothing but a joke apron and burning breakfast, is the most normal thing in the world.

"Morning! Sleep well?" she chirps, her voice still a little husky with sleep. "Thought I'd make breakfast as thanks for the rescue last night. My hero."

Your brain short-circuits for a second. 

"Hero? You looked like a wet raccoon who'd lost a fight with a garden hose."

"A very grateful raccoon," she retorts cheerfully, turning back to the pot. She stabs at the contents with a wooden spatula. "Now, are you going to come compliment my culinary genius, or just stare at my ass all morning?"

“Can I do both?”

She laughs, a bright, tinkling sound. 

"Multitasking. I like that." She gestures with the spatula toward the pot. "Behold. Bacon and egg scramble. A Chaehyun original."

You finally move, coming up behind her. You peer into the pot. It's exactly what it sounds like: a chaotic, greasy jumble of overcooked eggs and crispy bacon bits. "You're frying it in a pot."

“Ummm…Does it matter?”, she asks genuinely. Chaehyun couldn’t cook if her life depended on it. Genuinely.

"Yes? It'll make everything taste like… well, like it was cooked in a pot. You know what, never mind," you sigh, defeated. "Just continue."

But that's not why you're here. Not when there’s a better, tastier meal. You drop to your knees behind her, the movement fluid and silent. She doesn't notice at first, too focused on her culinary disaster. Your hands, moving with a will of their own, slide up the backs of her smooth, warm thighs.

She tenses slightly, turning her head to look down at you. "Everything okay?"

You answer by gripping those plush butt cheeks apart, thumbs sinking gently into the bouncy flesh as you ease them apart, finding the two holes you so dearly love. Her asshole and her pussy. She feels your breath as you lean in closer, and her hips instinctively push back. 

"Oh," she breathes, understanding dawning in her eyes. "Oh, okay then."

Your tongue drags slowly, deliberately, along the warm, silky slit of her pussy. She tastes faintly sweet and warm, still a little soft and sleepy from the night before, the first hints of wetness already blooming against your mouth. You lick again, even slower this time, savoring the velvety texture of her folds as they part so easily under the flat of your tongue. Your hands grip her huge ass firmer, holding her steady while you bury your face deeper, your nose brushing against her asshole, breathing in the intimate scent of her.

“Fuck…” she breathes, bracing one hand on the counter. The spatula clatters against the edge of the pot. “You really woke up hungry, huh?”

You start circling her clit with slow, lazy strokes of your tongue, then flattening it and dragging all the way from her entrance up to that sensitive little bud again and again. The eggs continue to sizzle in the background, but the smell was starting to shift. A little sharper, a little darker around the edges. You don’t care. Neither does she.

She lets out a shaky moan, thighs quivering against your palms. “You’re gonna make me burn breakfast… ah—fuck! Right there!”

You pull back just enough to speak, lips brushing her soaked folds. “You were already burning it. Might as well make it worth it.”

She laughs breathlessly, the sound breaking into a whimper as you dive back in. “Cocky bastard—! Oh god…”

Your tongue pushes inside her tight heat, slow and thorough, fucking her with long, savoring licks while your nose presses firmly against her. She’s getting wetter by the second, the slick sounds of your mouth on her mixing with her soft, breathy moans. Her thighs tremble against your palms. You can feel the subtle clench of her pussy around your tongue every time you curl it just right.

Her breathing grows heavier, deeper. Little whimpers escape her every few seconds as she rocks back against your face in tiny, helpless movements. The apron strings brush lightly against your forehead with each shift of her hips. You take your time, drawing it out — sucking gently on her clit, then releasing it to lick broad and slow again, over and over, until her legs are shaking and her free hand is gripping the edge of the counter so hard her knuckles turn white.

Then you move up slightly. Her asshole clenches and unclenches with every reaction, the one you’ve been watching so hungrily. You run your tongue all over the tight rim, then slide it inside, nice and slow. She jolts hard, as if she’s just been electrocuted.

"Whoa! Hey! That's… that's the exit only," she stammers, a nervous laugh in her voice.

You don’t answer with words. You just push your tongue deeper, circling and probing while your fingers dig into her ass. Her whole body shudders, asshole clenching greedily around your tongue as she rocks back against your face.

“Fuckfuck, okay, maybe it’s not exit only today,” she whines, voice cracking. One hand flies back to grip your hair, the other white-knuckling the counter. “Don’t you dare stop. Eat it like you mean it—ahh!”

“Only today? You let me eat your ass every time…”

"Wait... wait a second," she gasps, her voice breathy and strained. "I... I think something's burning."

You pause, lifting your head slightly but keeping your hands firmly on her hips. "Let it burn."

"No, seriously," she insists, trying to twist around to look at the stove. "I can smell it. It's definitely burning."

You tighten your grip, holding her in place. "I said, let it burn."

"But... the eggs," she protests weakly, even as her body betrays her by pressing back against your mouth. "I worked so hard on them."

You chuckle against her skin, the vibration making her shudder. "You call this working hard? Standing here looking so fucking delicious while pretending to stir a pot?"

"Hey!" she exclaims, though there's no real indignation in her voice. "This is hard work! Cooking is an art form."

"Is that what you're calling it now?" you tease, resuming your attention to her ass. "Because from what I saw, it looks more like culinary chaos."

"It's... it's experimental cuisine," she retorts, her voice becoming increasingly unsteady as you continue your ministrations. "You just don't appreciate my vision."

"Oh, I appreciate something alright," you murmur, pulling back slightly to admire the view before diving back in.

“This lovely fucking ass.”

The smell of burning food grows stronger, and Chaehyun's protests become more frantic. "Seriously, we're going to set off the smoke alarm. Your neighbors are going to hate you."

"Let them hate me," you reply, completely unbothered. "I've got bigger, better things to focus on right now."

"You're impossible," she gasps, but the protest melts into a moan as you redouble your efforts. You alternate between flicking her clit with the tip of your tongue and plunging it deep inside her, the dual sensations driving her wild. Her legs are trembling so hard now you're not sure how she's still standing, braced against the counter as she is.