IF IM INTERESTED!??????? Id Read Everything Related To Wr Just Like I Read Every Little Ask HELLO???

IF IM INTERESTED!??????? I’d read everything related to wr just like i read every little ask HELLO??? of course I’m interested yes yes yes and I think so is everyone else so feel free to feed us when you’re ready

mewheheh. thank you for the encouragement! it certainly helped me sit down and finish this one. i hope you enjoy it💜

Pairing: Werewolf!Chan x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series. you don’t really need to read any other instalment to understand/enjoy this piece). | Word Count: ~2k | Themes & Warnings: fantasy/supernatural AU · roomies idiots to ??? · fluff · hurt/comfort · pre-relationship scenario · food mentions · mentions of sickness · barely proof-read

minors do not interact.

It wasn’t uncommon for your roommate to come home very late at night. Knowing of his lycanthropy, one would believe the reason for his late arrival was related to needing some time under the moonlight, or because he needed to go on a run. However, Chris wasn’t like that. 

You used to think it was because he was out there, either hanging out with friends outside of his den, or on a date. Chris was, quite possibly, the most handsome person you’d ever seen in your life, so, even if the thought was unpleasant due to your little–likely unrequited–crush on him, you figured it made sense that he was out there meeting people, possibly getting laid…

That was, until one day, Changbin had made an off handed comment to Chris while you were there in the kitchen, about how he should go meet someone. ‘Go get it wet’, was exactly what he’d told Chris back then, but Chris’ scoff and subsequent answer made you completely reconsider this thought. ‘You know I don’t do shit like that. Getting laid just for the sake of getting it wet is just not fulfilling, nor satisfying at all’. 

So, after a handful of months living here, after getting much closer to your roommate, you now knew that whenever Chris came home after ten in the evening, it was usually because he’d been working overtime, or because he was helping out another pack mate with something.

A little while after he came home tonight, you went out of your room once you heard him go out of the shower. He was just there, standing in front of the open fridge, looking at its contents like they’d start talking to him and provide him answers to whatever was making his eyebrows furrow.

“I made some curry and rice”, you mumbled, walking closer to where he stood.

Chris’ frown relaxed a bit, and, for a moment, you wondered if he had even noticed you coming close at all before you spoke…

“Did you?” He asked simply, just looking at you, blinking slowly. 

“I did. You can eat some if you want”, fiddling with the strap of your sleeping gown, you just stood there, looking him in the eyes. He looked tired. Really tired.

He stared at you for a bit, but eventually nodded and returned his attention to the fridge. He took the two containers out, and started serving himself. 

The entire time, Chris’ entire body just looked… tense. He was shirtless, just like he usually was after a shower. Water droplets were still travelling south over his skin under the force of gravity, and, any other night, you would’ve certainly been affected by the sight. But, tonight, his tense muscles and the once again present frown on his face worried you.

You watched him heat up his food, propped with your shoulder against a wall and your arms crossed over your chest. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, it hardly ever was with Chris, but something in his demeanour made you want to break it. 

So you did. 

“Baby…”

Chris just offered a mindless ‘Hm?’ while he served his plate. It wasn’t odd for you to use pet names with your roommate, so neither him, nor you, seemed to be fazed by the use of it. 

“Is everything alright?”

Chris stilled for a moment, but resumed his motions with a shrug a while after. “I guess”. 

Oh, yeah… That was totally convincing…

“Chris…”

He sighed, throwing his head back. He must’ve been more tired than you thought, because, instead of remaining quiet and reassuring you that everything was fine like he usually did, he just started ranting. 

“My boss is an absolute idiot who doesn’t have a clue on how to properly manage his time, and that means that I am the one that has to fix his shit. Lots of extra work, and for what? All the cash in the world just isn’t worth the hassle, but I gotta do it or my whole team will fall behind. Besides, Jeongin’s sick tonight, and I know Seungmin’s taking care of him, but I’m just… worried”, dragging his hands down his face, Chris sighed again, and his shoulders slumped the tiniest bit. “God, I’m sorry, pretty. You don’t need to be dragged into my problems like this…”

He turned away from you to brace himself on the kitchen counter, giving you the perfect view of his toned back and broad shoulders. A lovely sight indeed, but one that you would’ve honestly preferred to see under much brighter circumstances…

There were a few moments of silence, moments in which you weren’t really sure what to say or do. But, eventually, you figured you had to do something, so you walked closer, close enough so you could wrap your arms around Chris’ torso, press your chest to his back, and your forehead to his shoulder. 

His body tensed for a second, but almost immediately after, his shoulders relaxed. He took a deep breath, one of his hands found your arm, and he started to gently stroke your skin. 

It wasn’t uncommon for you and Chris to hug, especially not at these hours of the night. At times like these, you always found yourself close to him. It was comforting, warm, and if it felt that way to you, you hoped it did to him as well. 

“It’s okay, babe. You know you can talk to me… If you keep it all in, it’ll only make it worse”, you mumbled, selfishly letting your lips brush against the skin of his shoulder, and for a second, you could’ve sworn Chris had shivered.

Probably wishful thinking…

“How’s Jeongin?” You had to ask… To know the youngest member of the pack was sick was certainly something to be worried about, especially considering Jeongin’s history with all sorts of ailments.

“He’s… I mean, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He just ran through some weeds and seems to be having an allergic reaction, but Seungmin’s got it under control. I just… worry, I guess”.

“Mm… That’s very valid. I’m sure he’ll be fine, too”, you tightened your arms around his waist briefly as an attempt to get him out of his head. You knew Chris tended to overthink things, and even spiral a bit, so it was always good to try to ground him in some way–a handy tip given to you by Changbin after the first night you found Chris roaming the flat like this. 

With a deep breath, Chris turned in your hold, until he could wrap his arms around your shoulders and pull you further into him, hugging you. 

He didn’t say anything else, just caressed your hair while you held him by the waist and buried your face further in the crook of his neck.

“You’re so warm”, you couldn’t help but say after a while, because it was true. No wonder he and his packmates were barely clothed constantly, when their body temperature was just insanely high. At nights like these, though, when it was slightly chilly, hugs were certainly welcomed. Chris’ hugs specifically… they were always the warmest. 

A soft chuckle resonated in Chris’ chest at your comment. “So are you, pretty girl”. 

You could feel heat on your ears. You were usually partially immune to all the pet names Chris threw your way, but sometimes, especially when it was this late, when he was so close to you, they just got to you. Burying your face in the crook of his neck further, you tried to hide your flustered reaction. Maybe not the smartest choice, since all you managed to do was further wonder how his warm skin would feel under your lips if you fully pressed them to it.

Chris inhaled deeply. One of his hands remained on the back of your head, while the other found its way to the small of your back, admittedly lower than you had ever felt it.

If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought that he was trying to pull you closer. A very delusional part of you wanted to believe that he was enjoying your presence in ways that were just not platonic… That part of you was always dangerous at these times of the night, it always lowered your inhibitions, making it so you could hardly care about keeping your stupid little crush buried deep within your heart. 

“Thank you. I… needed this”, Chris mumbled, but he didn’t make any attempts to move. If anything, you could’ve sworn he had tightened his hold around your frame. 

“Anytime, darling”, once again, you whispered the words against his skin, letting your lips barely brush against the pulse point under his jaw. 

Chris swallowed, audibly, and, for a moment, you wondered if you were making him uncomfortable.

God, this was so creepy of you… Regardless of your crush, why were you doing these borderline inappropriate things? You needed to undo it all somehow, turn this sterile for your own sake and sanity, as well as his comfort.

Clearing your throat, you finally pulled yourself away from his neck, from his body altogether. For a brief moment, you almost felt as if Chris was putting some resistance to keep you within his arms, but you reminded yourself that these were your delusions speaking. 

There was just no way Chris wanted you like… that. Like you wanted him…

“Would you feel better if I called one of the boys? I’m sure Jisung would be more than happy to fill in as a therapy dog?”

Chris shook his head, chuckling a bit. “No, thank you. I don’t think I’m in any condition to put up with anyone right now”. 

“Oh”, you took a tentative step back, assuming that you were included in that ‘anyone’ box. “If that’s the case then I’ll just… give you some space”. 

“Wait”, Chris’ hand shot to your shoulder. As soon as he realised he had stopped your movement, he quickly let go. He’d started to do that a lot these days, whenever he touched you suddenly. You had noticed, but you really didn’ know why he did it… “I, uh… You can totally say no, I know this might sound kinda weird, but please don’t take it the wrong way, it’s just that, y’know, you’re my roommate. And I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, but…" 

Chris started to speak very, very quickly. To the point you couldn’t really make out a single word. 

“Hey, babe, slow down. I can’t understand anything you’re saying right now”.

“I, uhm… would you mind if we… I mean, I could really use some cuddles right how…”

“Oh”, you couldn’t really hide the surprise in your voice, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn Chris’ ears were redder than usual. Probably more of those delusions of yours… “I mean… Sure, yeah, we can, uh, we can cuddle. But, uhm, wouldn’t you prefer for me to call–”

“No, no I wouldn’t prefer that. I’m asking you specifically, dummy”, Chris chuckled, but he averted his eyes anyway. “You’re here and all, I figured, y’know, we could, uh…”

Of course. That was why he was asking you specifically… because you were here. No other reason. You really shouldn’t read too deeply into things…

“If it makes you feel better, we can definitely cuddle, baby. It’s fine”, you took Chris’ hand in yours, and instinctively brushed his knuckles with your thumb.

His eyes found yours for a brief moment. For as long as the staring lasted, you could feel the fine hairs on the nape of your neck stand on end. It wasn’t uncommon for you to feel that way, it happened way more frequently than you would’ve liked to admit… Mostly because it was always you who looked him right in the eyes.

You wondered if he knew you were doing it on purpose. You supposed it was your way of trying to get his attention. Maybe, if you stared at him long enough, he’d just… do something. Sure, he could very well hurt you because of what looking an alpha in the eyes represented, but, somehow, you just knew Chris wouldn’t harm you. 

He’d never done anything but make you feel safe. Even all those months ago, when you argued after finding out what he was, you weren’t really scared. In shock? Yes. But not scared. Never scared. Chris was… comfort and safety. Even with his condition, he just wasn’t someone you could ever feel scared of.

No wonder you had feelings for him…

Chris cleared his throat, effectively breaking the suddenly heavy atmosphere that had settled between you two–or… were you imagining that?

“C’mon, pretty”, Chris started to walk, tugging you along as he made his way to the sofa.

You loved this thing, probably one of the best pieces of furniture Chris had gotten for this place. It was spacious, comfortable, and when he laid down, you had plenty of space to lay down right next to him.

You had to be really close to him, but there was still a bit of space where space was needed. However, after Chris took one of the cushions to lay his head on, he pulled you into him. With your head partially on the cushion and partially on his arm, chest against chest, he placed a hand in the middle of your back and kept you close.

You seriously hoped he somehow couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating–unlikely, considering his damned supernatural hearing. He was so close, and somehow inexplicably smelt like the sea, and you just… God, you just liked him so much…

“Is this okay?” Chris mumbled against your hair, curling his arm around your shoulders, softly dragging his hand up and down your back.

One of your hands found its way to his back as well, where it also settled to gently caress his skin, hoping to ease some of that stress that was clinging to his frame. And, for a moment, you wondered if you were truly feeling him relax under your touch, or if your mind was making it all up again… “‘Course it is”.

Chris just hummed, and pressed a brief kiss on your forehead before he just snuggled impossibly closer, holding you tighter.

“What about your food, though?”

Chris chuckled. “It can wait. I need this more”.

It wasn’t the first time you cuddled with Chris, but it was usually more of an accident kind of thing. Usually when you had fallen asleep while watching TV together and somehow ended up close to each other. Those times, even as you woke up, you both remained entangled for a bit as you murmured sleepy words to each other.

But you couldn’t recall a time where he’d held you this close… Where he had actively asked you to come and lay down with him… 

You supposed he might’ve felt more burdened tonight than you had originally thought. Enough to ask anyone he could for some hugs…

That was fine. If it helped him, you’d gladly let him hold on to you, you’d even entertain your delusions.

At least, until you woke up tomorrow and were reminded that Chris, ultimately, saw you as nothing more than his roommate. Maybe even a friend, but just that, and absolutely nothing more…

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

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channie with dumbification is so cuteness, it also ties a bit into corruption!! and i’m sorry again i haven’t been posting as much 🫶

warnings!!: edging, ruined orgasms, dumbification, grinding, and a bit of degrading

after a long day when you finally get home, you walk upstairs to get into comfier clothes and shower. after said shower you go to you and chans shared room, brushing through your hair as you approach the bed, chan was sat there on his phone, he glanced at you ‘hey hun’ he hums, glancing at you. you cuddled up to him and he put his phone off to the side, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you.

he assumed this would be a innocent cuddle session, but that thought was immediately tore up when he felt you gently kissing at his neck. he chuckles a bit ‘what’re you doing baby?’, his grin intensifies when he hears your little whine, he grabs your hips, gently helping you grind on his thigh. 

he would coo at you gently ‘mmm.. dumb baby.. grinding on my thigh? so cute..’ he grinned, feeling how your grip on his shirt got tight at those words, and that’s when he discovered your little.. kink. he chuckled a bit ‘aw.. you like when i talk to you like that? you like being my dumb bunny?’ he smiles, gripping your hips and forcing you to grind on his thigh faster, flexing his thigh and pushing it up into your core. 

he felt how your mewled and whines and gripped onto him harder ‘mm—.. channie..’

you whine, trying to move faster on his thigh, signaling you were close. he grabs your hips, holding them still and pulling you off of his thigh. ‘mmh.. nuh-uh baby.’ he warned, taking out his thick cock, and yanking away your shorts and now wet panties. he grinds his tip against your pussy a bit, coating it in your slick and listening to your whines and mewls of ‘put it in already!..’. 

he smacks your thigh ‘hey. watch your fucking manners bunny, don’t make me fuck them into you.’ he warns, when you stick your tongue out at him, he immediately bottoms out in you, shoving his whole length into you. your wail only fuels him even more. ‘yeah, i said watch your manners. you made me do this’ he growls, starting to fuck you, rough. your sobs make him grin.

‘c-cha— s-sir! sir please.. i-i’m sorry!’ you sobs, gripping roughly at the sheets. ‘mhm, sure you are. you wanna cum bunny? want sir to make you cum?’ he snarks. ‘yes— yes please sir!.. make me.. make me cum..’ you beg, and you get hopeful when he speeds up, going faster. but those hopes are ruined when you just fall over the edge and he pulls out, ruining your orgasm, and stroking himself to cum on your stomach. he had the biggest shit eating grin ever.

‘i said you needed to learn your manners bunny, you can wait.’

If Only I Could Please Her

Synopsis: You were always one to appease your close ones. Friends, partners, family members, everyone; you just wanted them to be happy. Whether you did this because you wanted to or because you feared being the one taken care of is a different story. With Chan, you are still the same, until he decides to change your mind.

Content: angst (sad chan), fluff, smut, peoplepleaser!reader x stressed!Chan, sub!Reader x pleasuredom!Chan, thick!reader, first time sex, mentions of angry fucking (does not occur in story), slight marking!kink, slight lactation!kink, oral (f. receiving), use of toys (f. receiving), MULTIPLE ORGASMS (chan is a pleasure dom what can I say), unprotected sex (please please please use protection), reader cries from pleasure, creampie, breeding!kink, fluffy ending (so much fluff it is like tooth-rotting, sugar-coated, insulin-needing sweetness)

Word Count: 8.9 k (whoops sorry)

Author's Notes: This work was originally my own but I started to incorporate some ideas sent to me by an Anon. Thank you to that person!! I hope this pleases you (teehee get it because of the title). Also, yes, the title is a Wallow's lyric from "Pleaser".

Taglist: @scribblemetae @mygsis, @9900z, @taekbokki,, @imtoooyoungforthisshit

To say Chan was stressed was an understatement. It was almost like a common trope, a cliché that had been overworked in its use to describe him. He was tired to the point where aches and pains were one with his body. A chronic pain cursed him which no painkillers could execute.

You had only been dating Chan briefly yet had known him for a long time prior. As such, you weren't unaware of how recklessly he treated his body and mind in an effort to maintain a constant work stream. It seemed, however, that your courtship with him only enhanced your worries about his well-being.

"Courtship"? Is that the right word to use? You two were practically launched into love from the moment you laid eyes on each other. Dating had simply allowed you to finally experience the desperation that plagued both of you when you were still acquaintances. So, "courtship" wouldn't be the best word. More like, "dating-for-the-long-run-but-every-day-is-haunted-by-the-dire-need-to-fuck-the-other".

Worst of all, you hadn't even had sex yet. The unspoken abstinence made you wonder if Chan wanted you as much as you wanted him. You wondered if he wanted you at all.

Countless times you had offered yourself up as a means to relieve stress. Handjobs, blowjobs, the like: you wanted Chan to finally relax. It wasn't like you felt pressured to do so. In fact, the offers you proposed to Chris were more of a way to satiate your cravings. Yet, Chan refused each time, which you respected. He claimed he wanted the first time with you to be "special", unlike the previous relationships either of you had been in. You obliged, thinking it would be nice to actually take things slow for once.

However, as time went on, you found it harder and harder to respect that agreement. And for multiple reasons.

Firstly, you were desperate. Simple as that: you wanted dick. Secondly, Chan was stressed. His work ethic had overloaded his system, and it didn't seem to be lightening any time soon. Comeback season was followed by award show season, and then the end-of-the-year performances followed by the rest of the tour. At this point, you were surprised that Chan was even still standing. You thought that at some point he would beg, plead, maybe even crawl to you to help him relieve some tension. However, he still stood proudly every day, silently suffering through the exhaustion of him and his members. Lastly, and worst of all, was that Chan looked so fucking good when he was tense. This reason was the one you beat yourself up for. While Chan was struggling, you couldn't help but think about how good it would be to ride him like that, releasing his buried tension with every pump of his cock.

Jesus, were you that dirty-minded? That even the sight of Chan, sweating and exhausted from a long day of schedules made you wet? You dismissed the thoughts one after another.

Ultimately, you blame the people-pleaser side of yourself. In most of your relationships, you had taken on a more dominant, yet attending, role. Even in friend groups, you acted like a parental figure, ensuring everyone's safety, fun, and overall well-being. When it came to former partners, you wanted to please— in and out of the bedroom. You wanted to make dinner because you liked to see the joy on their faces when digging into a homemade meal, you wanted to hear giggles of excitement when they opened new presents, and, to be honest, you relished in the panted and thankful moans of being relieved. Sometimes it was the other way around in bed: you'd let them use you, your body, to get their anger out. Sometimes it would be too much, so much that you couldn't take being someone's stress toy any longer. You did eventually end that relationship, and rightfully so. Still, it seemed like you didn't really learn your lesson: even now, you wanted to make Chris happy in any way you could.

Part of you thinks you fell into this sort of people-pleaser role due to the convenience of it. It's simply easier to be the one who made the plans, who helped out, who took care of everything. You disliked—possibly even feared—the dependence required of you if you allowed others to take care of you. Maybe that's why all your past relationships have ended. Maybe that's why, now, with Chris, you feel helpless because you have done so little in helping him feel better.

However, you still try. You still want, even need to make Chris feel good. It isn't even the charmer in you anymore: with the way Chan has been, any good partner would be concerned.

Today, you take matters into your own hands.

It was the last schedule for the week, allowing Chan to have his first free Saturday night and Sunday in months. You both agreed to a night in, his first one in a while. You had done everything right: your apartment was set with low-mood lighting and a full pantry. Freshly baked goods scented the air of the living room while the bedroom air was a condensed scent of vanilla and shea butter from the candles. Regardless of the impeccable condition of your apartment, you were by far the most delectable thing in it. You were adorned with a simple silken rose-coloured robe, seemingly relaxed and ready for an easy night in with Chan. You, however, had a few secrets hidden underneath your robe. Your detached and happy demeanour was the sugar-coating to your scantly-clad state, and you hoped that Chan received the message that you had more than just a self-care night planned.

Everything was perfect. Special, even. It was everything Chris wanted for your first time with him. All that was left now was to wait for him to arrive so you could dote on him, ease his worries, and consummate your so-far celibate relationship. So you waited.

And waited.

... and waited.

The night sky had settled and you were still alone. Chris had told you he would arrive by 7:00 and now, hours later, he was nowhere in sight. Initially, you tried not to panic, subsiding your anxiety by keeping the candles alight while occasionally fixing your makeup that enhanced the plumpness of your lips and the fullness of your cheeks. Still, there is only so much one could do before panic turns to simmering anger, and then to annoyance.

You now rested on the couch, reading and vigorously bouncing your leg, the baked goods no longer fresh out of the oven and some of the candles resting in a puddle of their own melted flesh. Each page of your novel stared back at you, its contents almost silently mocking you for being alone and reading it rather than being with Chris. You couldn't stand to look at the book anymore.

Sighing, you slammed the novel shut and tossed it aside. Your eyes dared to twitch towards the analogue clock that hung on the wall. This entire night you had been fighting the urge to look at the time, losing every time. And, just like countless times before, you lost the battle.

9:20 on the dot. No new messages on your phone, no missed calls. Nothing.

It wasn't the first time he had no-showed you, but at least he had given you a text before. Now, nothing.

In all honesty, you wanted to give up. Blow out the candles, wrap up the food, do your skincare and put yourself to bed. Something stopped you every time before. Yet, after hours with no contact, your patience was wearing thin and it became incredibly tempting to leave this night for another time.

Then you heard the door rattle. You shot up like a bullet, albeit more eager than you wanted to seem.

Chris entered your apartment and (though he still wore makeup ruined by a hard performance, had hair which had started to curl from the sweat of dancing, and was dressed in his basic dark loungewear) he looked heavily. Every frustration you had seemed to erase itself. The irritation that once berated you now had disappeared. Instead, you were left with the overwhelming urge to hug Chan. So you did.

"Baby?—oof!" You launched yourself into him, staggering him a bit as your arms wrapped around his neck.

"Chan!" You said happily. "God, I was so worried. Well, mostly annoyed, but also a little worried."

Chan's hands rested awkwardly outstretched beside him before finding comfort on your hips, wrapping around you. The two of you stood there silently, swaying in the entrance of your apartment as you felt Cris relax into your arms. The soft music you had let play began to encapsulate you two, filling the space of the words you wished to say to him. Then he spoke.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Sadness was evident in his voice. Pain and weariness coated the two simple words he uttered. You pulled away, his hands still resting on you as your own nestled his face. His eyes were so... so solemn, like a kicked puppy.

"Chan, it's okay," you tried to say your words lightly and carefully. He was so clearly horribly upset, and it made your stomach churn. "Obviously I was upset, but you're here now. Please, tell me what's wrong? Why didn't you text me?"

Chan tried to look at you, to meet your eyes. He really did. Nonetheless, he still looked down. He let the weight of the tears that formed in his eyes hold his head down. As they started to trickle down, he pulled his hands off of you, placing them on your own and pulling them from his face to hold them.

"I'm so sorry," his voice was so incredibly melancholic. "My phone died and no one had a charger. When I finally found one, it was time to perform. We had to record four times due to camera errors and then they added a performance to the schedule. By the time we were able to leave, it was past 8:30 and I was on the other side of the city. I'm so sorry. I came here as quickly as I could. I'm sorry." Tears were streaking down his cheeks now. They were brimming your eyes, too.

However, you fought them off. You had to be strong, for both of you. If not for Chan, then for yourself. And if not for yourself, then for your eye makeup.

"Chan," your voice spoke up, answering his pleas for forgiveness. And, again, you tried to keep your voice light, despite the circumstances. "Baby, look at me?"

He shook his head, letting hot, salty tears fall down his face. Though he refused, you didn't accept his response. With his hands still around yours, you held his face again, forcing his head up and his eyes to meet yours.

"Chris?" His eyes glanced towards yours, his lip caught in his teeth as he choked back a sob.

"Let's get you something to eat, hmm?"

Chan smiled. A sober smile, but a smile, nonetheless. One that showed he wanted to laugh, but couldn't. He simply couldn't. But he could smile. So he did.

With the food readily prepared, you were quick to fix a plate for Chris. You happily watched as he snacked on the sweets, fruits, and tea you made him, listening to him recount his day as he slowly gained his energy back. The smiles you exchanged filled your heart: you were happy that you had made him happy.

But, was he happy? He smiled, he ate your delicious and well-made food, he complimented your makeup, and you helped him take off his, but... something was amiss. Every good deed you normally performed for previous partners would normally leave them a blushing mess, begging for more. Yet, with Chan, something was different. Like he was disappointed, almost.

You wanted to ask, but assumed it was because of the stress from the past few weeks— and especially tonight. So, you let him know that if he wanted to talk, you were always here. He nodded, glassy eyes looking like milk saucers as he agreed silently to your words. God, he was adorable.

"Channie?" you asked as he finished the last chocolate-covered strawberry, thus demolishing the last morsel of food you had prepared for the night.

"Yes, honey?" Fuck, the petnames. He knew what made your knees weak. You want to treat him right, please him like you so desperately want to do, and beg him to take his anger out on you. However, you still need to play it safe. It was going to be your first time with him, and you needed to play your cards right. You cleared your throat.

"Can we head to bed now? I'm starting to feel tired."

Chan grinned at you, relieved to hear the words that relinquished him from the chains of consciousness.

"I would love that," he gleamed. As you took his hand in yours, excited to show him what layered underneath your short robe, you felt your cheeks heat up. How could even the slightest touch from him make you flush? Gosh, he was perfect, such a good boyfriend. You wanted to let him know, give him everything—

*buzz buzz*

Chris and you simultaneously glanced down at the phone in his pocket.

*buzz buzz*

You reluctantly looked at each other, knowing that he had to answer the call.

"It could be work," he said glumly.

"Yeah, I know," you responded in the same faint tone.

*buzz buzz*

"Take it," you insisted, smiling despite the pit your heart fell into. Chan smiled as well, probably for the same reasons.

*buzz buzz*

"I'll meet you in the bedroom, you go on ahead," he told you, giving you a nod as a signal to leave.

*buzz buzz*

"Don't keep me waiting," you responded cheekily. You planted a kiss on the cheek, scampering off to your room.

You heard the faint sounds of Chris answering his phone, knowing it was his manager on the other line.

"Hi, is there an issue with the track that we're recording on Monday? I thought we cleared that up." You could hear him through the door, rolling your eyes at the thin walls of your apartment. In an effort to prevent intrusion upon his work-related conversation, you got to tending the forgotten room.

"What are you talking about?" Chan half-huffed, half-whispered- yelled into his phone. You pretended not to hear him. The candles were dim now, so you replaced the few that were completely exhausted.

"Are you kidding me!?" You could hear him yell. Again, you ignored it, humming to yourself in an effort to calm the atmosphere.

"What about Channie's Room? My day off?" In a flurry, you redispersed the flower petals on your bedspread.

"Fine... yeah, of course..." you heard Chris' voice at its regular decibel now. "I'll see you then."

The room was perfect. So, you sat and waited for Chris, fixing yourself exactly like you had imagined you would.

Chan didn't open the door for a moment. You could hear him sigh and his phone land with a thud on the couch. He had tossed it aside. He did that when he was sick and tired of it ringing. A beat passed and then he opened the door.

"Is everything okay?" You asked, your voice concerned and low. Chan closed the door behind him, eyes immediately focused on the ground again. Oh, no.

"No... no, it's not," he stated blankly. He did not notice the candles or how their scent consumed the air. Nor did he notice the rose petals on the bedspread. He didn't even notice you.

"God I—fuck—I can't believe they did that," he chuckled dryly. He glanced at you—if you think half a millisecond of time is enough to look at someone fully —and threw his arms up.

"Channie—" you began

"They took tomorrow night from me," he stated blankly. Your heart sank: you knew what that meant. No Sunday Channie's Room, no free night, and, most importantly, no full day off.

"We have to re-record some lines and I have to be in the booth helping out," he started, "then we got to get dressed up and do a schedule until midnight.

"Chan, please—"

"And then they have the fucking audacity to ask me if I'm resting well! No, the fuck I am not!" His voice shook—not with anger, but because of the tears brimming his eyes for the second time that night.

"Chris—" Again, his voice interjected yours.

"That means more time away from you, and that means I can't be there for you, or myself, or—"

"CHRIS!" It was your turn to interrupt him. You managed to stop his catastrophizing, cutting his sentence short. However, he still didn't look at you. His hands were holding his head, clearly trying to prevent the insanity from settling in.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes. You let the silence fill the room. Then, you opened your eyes and looked right at Chris.

"Channie?" Your voice was soft and barely audible. Chan's hands had rubbed up his face and now smoothed his hair down, trying to tame the frizziness of his unkempt curls. Somehow, despite the worries that plague him, your voice broke him from his trance. It was as if, for a moment, he offered his attention to you in the hopes that it would pull him out of his adversity. With a sigh, he swung his arms down and let his hands smack against his legs, the act demonstrating his exhaustion. Then, once he was settled, his eyes glanced over to you, following the sound of your voice.

As soon as his gaze met you, he stilled.

You sat on his bed on your parted knees, relaxed with your barely clothed cunt hovering just above his petal-covered comforter. The pink lace lingerie you wore was visible under the rose satin robe that barely clung to you, slipping away as the knot of the strap became undone. A garter was situated on each of your fat thighs and suspended by a belt which hugged your plump waist, the colours matching the bra and panties you wore. Well, "panties" was a strong word: it was barely a few pieces of fabric and string. Your tummy peaked between the belt and underwear, completing your look with the sheer bareness of it all.

Chan's eyes were stuck on you; he could barely move. It was as if he could finally smell the vanilla and shea butter in the air.

"Channie... come to bed," you finished, fingers teasingly rubbing down the opening of your robe.

Chan's mouth went dry, his hands slowly clenching into fists to bring himself down. He needed to retain some semblance of serenity. Seeing you sitting like that while his mind raged pushed him towards something animalistic in him that he didn't know he had. One deep breath followed another, a feeble attempt at composing himself so as to not pounce on you. Who could blame him if he did? You were literally presenting yourself as ready to be used, to be loved, to let him have you. His breath was heavy, his pants now unbelievably tight.

"Please, Channie," you asked, your voice smooth and sultry. "For me?"

He licked his lips.

"Okay, y/n," he whispered back. "Okay."

He took a step forward, then another. His eyes never left you; he was hypnotized. As his legs met the foot of the bed, he slowly pushed forward and let his knee continue his crawl towards you. While Chan climbed onto the bed, you laid down, allowing him to mount you. Chan's hands planted on either side of you and his knees hugged your body, allowing him to look completely down at your helpless form. Your robe had almost completely undone, only held slightly together by a feeble knot. It displayed you to Chris, framing you in lingerie and making every instinct in his mind scream. Still, he stared at you calmly. Instead of doing what his animalistic instincts demanded of him, he shifted his weight, allowing one hand to rise up and brush a strand of hair from your face. His eyes were clear, tranquil— tearless for the first time that night.

"You are so beautiful, love," he mumbled as you brought your hands up to caress his face. "So beautiful..." Your thumb rubbed his cheek, feeling the heat of his blood creep toward the surface of his skin as you offered him this tenderness

"Wanna take such good care of you," you whispered as you kissed his face. "Wanna please my Channie."

All of a sudden, Chan looked at you like you were crazy, like you had said something off-colour or had suddenly spat in his face.

"What do you mean by that, y/n?" He asked, his voice still steady but precise. Investigative. You stared back at him with the same expression.

"I just... want you to use me? I want to make you happy, so, please, do what you want." Though your voice was sure, Chris seemed all the more confused.

"What? I could never—What?" He asked.

His words immediately caused humiliation to wash over you. You could feel your face heat up and you tried to pull away after his perplexing comments, hoping to undo what you had said. However, Chris didn't move. Despite your efforts, his body continued to cage yours. Actually, he did move closer to you, down onto his elbows so his body was still parallel to yours. The space between you two became air tight. You felt red-hot embarrassment flush your cheeks, eyes stinging from the threat of tears. God, what had you said that made him act so weird?

Your thoughts started to race as your heart pounded faster, the beat threatening to break your ribs with every pulse. Breath quickening, you wanted to beg, plead to Chris about what he meant. You wanted a chance to explain yourself, to go back in time, to ask him what he meant, please.

Then, you felt Chan rut his cock into you as he kissed your cheek.

"Mmh— fuck," Chris panted in your ear before kissing it, sucking on the lobe and kissing down your jaw. "You smell so fucking good."

"C-chris?" you whimpered out.

"'Use you'? I could never," Chris chuckled. "God, y/n, haven't you figured me out by now?" As his hands slowly slid into yours, interlocking your fingers, he captured your lips in his, softly catching your breath.

"But, I—" you protested, still confused.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good, y/n," he whispered as he continued the languid strokes of his bulge against your thigh. "I'm gonna make you feel good. So, so good. Over and over again. You feeding me, taking care of me... it's nice and I love it, but it's not what I want." One of his hands slipped from yours, replacing the aching absence of your touch by holding your jaw softly with it, pushing you lovingly into his kisses. He whimpered as your tongue licked his lip, begging for more.

"I'm the provider," he kissed you again, "I'm the dominant one." Another kiss, another harsh rut.

"I'm the pleaser, okay?"

Your mouth felt dry. He smiled.

"Please touch me, Channie," you begged.

"Anything for you, princess."

He pressed his lips into yours again, letting his hand slip from your jaw and down your neck. His fingers ghosted along your collarbones, then teased along the edge of your robe, slipping the knot of the robe and completely undoing it. He moved all his weight to his knees, pulling back to sit up and allow his hands to rub down your sides, moving the robe out of the way.

"All dressed up for me, sitting on a bed of fucking roses," he cursed. His hands continued to rub up and down your torso. One hand pressed over the flimsy material of your panties that clung to your hip while the other fondled your chest over your bra. All the while, his hips never ceased moving, his heavy erection so evident as he panted above you. The sight made you needy as if you already weren't.

"Chan, don't tease," your eyes were wide and shimmering, Chan's heart thumping at the site.

"Baby," he cooed, "it's funny that you think you can call the shots."

He let both of his hands rest on your hips now, massaging the squishy flesh eagerly as his fingers dipped in and out of the fabric, teasing the possibility of taking them off.

"I like to relax by making you feel good, yeah?" Chan questioned. You nodded in understanding, but, frankly, you just wanted him to rip your panties off and fuck you.

"So," he continued, the grip on your wide hips harsher, "that means I'm gonna tease you. I'm gonna make you cum over and over again. Every time we fuck. God, how I've wanted you." As he realized his dreams were becoming reality, Chris' words suddenly got to him. He couldn't resist his urges and, as such, allowed himself a moment of liberation, ducking his head into the crevice of your neck. Licking and biting it liberally, he inhaled your scent like he needed it to live.

"Fuck, please—Channie, I don't know if I can handle that," you whimpered as he left hickeys along your neck. Your begs made him chuckle, pulling away from you despite how you clung to him.

"Oh, princess..." he teased, "you'll just have to." His hands slipped from your body and grabbed the hem of his shirt. The fabric was quickly pulled over his head and across the room, leaving him straddling you and completely on display.

"God, now you're just being unfair," you pouted as you studied his carved torso.

"You love it," he laughed in a low voice as his hands returned to your hips. "Now, where were we? Oh... yeah, here."

Suddenly, his hands twisted the delicate fabric of your panties that dug into the fat of your hip and tore it off your body, shredding it to pieces.

"Chris!" You cried, hands rushing to cover yourself. However, Chan caught your palms and pinned them to your sides. The act caused him to know pin you to the bed again, leaving you vulnerable under him.

"I'll replace them, don't worry," he groaned with an air of nonchalance. "But know that I'll just rip them off of you. Again, and again... again..." His mouth attached to yours and stifled your protests. As he caught your moans, he soon detached his lips from yours and kissed down your body, still holding your hands. When he reached your covered chest, he released his grip and freed his hands to grope your tits, toying with your nipples through the sheer fabric.

"W-will you tease me all night?" You asked as his spit soaked the fabric, attempting to suck on your nipples through the barrier.

"At some point, you'll be begging me to go this slow," he growled. He then pulled away and studied his work, content with your glistening chest.

"It's like you're leaking for me, baby." Chris started to redden. "Like your tits are soaked with milk." Your flushed face matched his own, as if you were both shocked by the words that left his mouth

Unexpectedly, he chuckled.

"Don't act like you didn't love that, y/n."

"S-shut up," you mumbled, eyes darting away in fear of meeting Chris'.

"Like a little horny baby that can't keep her tits from gushing after being sucked on," he hissed. The embarrassment of his teases continued to catch your voice, making it difficult for you to speak. His lips then returned to your torso, kissing down your body and nipping at the belt that still desperately clung to your waist.

"We'll leave this on you, the whole night," he mumbled between licks. "No panties, no bra, but this stays." His fingers caressed the fabric, loving how it hugged your tummy and accentuated your curves.

"Mmh— fuck," you hummed.

His tongue licked your stomach, kissing the fat before his hands led the way down to your thighs. Chan planted open kisses on them, nibbling at the plump flesh as he pretended not to notice your begging and exposed cunt.

"I love taking my time with you," he moaned as your whimpers persisted. "I love pleasing you, y/n."

"Oh, Chris," you responded, voice filled with adoration.

Abruptly, his tongue met your clit and sucked eagerly on it, like he had waited a lifetime to taste you.

"Fuck—" you gasped out, grateful for the stimulus. Chan ate you like a starved man, his tongue kitten-licking your clit with a neediness that matched your own.

In an attempt to stabilize yourself, one of your hands began to pet his hair while the other played with your tits. However, the endeavour inevitably failed. Chan was insatiable, and it made you squirm in his grip.

"Hmph—Fuck, how can you taste so good?" He whimpered as he buried into you further, pulling you closer by hooking your knees over his shoulders. Tonguing your entrance, he refused to neglect your clit as his nose nudged it with every lap of his tongue. Both of your hands now held his hands, desperately pulling him into you.

"C-channie, I—"

"Come for me, baby," he urged as his tongue returned to your clit. "Please? Please, all over my tongue, soak my face, please?" His begs were too much to resist. His tongue immediately returned to your clit, moaning into your cunt as he made out with your pussy. Quickly, you found your pussy now clenching around nothing, cumming just from the simple pleas and the licks Chris offered to you.

"Such a pretty pussy," Chan moaned as he lapped up your juices, coaxing you through your orgasm. "Does what it's told, so nice for me." You whimpered at the dirty words he threw around. How did everything he say sound so sexy? So fucking perfect?

Before he let you settle, his tongue returned to your clit and his fingers now teased your cunt.

"No, Chris— w-wait, please, give me time," you hiccuped as two of his fingers eased into you, your cum acting as a perfect lubricant.

"Now, now," he taunted, "that was just one of many. Relax, y/n. Give me another, yeah?" He then continued to abuse your clit while his fingers curled repeatedly, continually probing that gummy part in you.

"Baby," you moaned as your legs wrapped around his head, hating the overstimulation but unable to resist it. The lewd sounds that came from Chan finger-fucking your cunt filled the room.

"Just another, give me one more, c'mon," he urged as he returned to licking your pussy, tongue feverishly eating you. With the quickened pace of his appendages, your pussy came unexpectedly, swelling around his fingers.

"Channie! I cum, I c-cum, cum, f-for Channie, cum" you mewled. Chan smiled as he kissed your twitching cunt, eyes burning for more. He then pulled his fingers out of you and sat back on his knees, enjoying the site of his hand caressing your sopping pussy lips as you rode out the last of your orgasm.

"Aww, baby's already fucked-out from two orgasms," he cooed. He leaned over, planting a kiss on your parted lips. "Gather yourself, princess. You have a long night ahead of you." You whimpered, swallowing your words as you found yourself unable to form a coherent sentence. Instead, you let your hands crawl up his chest to his shoulders, pulling him in and kissing him properly. Chan hummed into the kiss and relished the moment of puppy love.

Pulling away, he gave you a soft grin.

"Where are your toys, baby?" He demanded in a gentle voice.

"W-what? I don't have—"

"Please don't play dumb with me," he challenged, adopting a slightly condescending tone. "I've heard the buzzing when you think I'm asleep on the couch. I've seen the packages you've carelessly thrown out. Now, tell me: Where. Are. They?"

You were dumbfounded, caught in your lies. Yet, you had no escape. After two orgasms and with more to come, you were already Chan's dumb little plaything, unable to think for herself. How could you refuse what he asked of you, or even lie your way out? Silently, you raised your hand meekly with what little strength you had, outstretching an index finger to point towards the third drawer of your dresser. Chan smiled.

"Good girl, my good and fuckable little princess," he praised. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Chris moved off of you and freed from his unrelenting love. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. As Chan kneeled to open your drawer, he glanced over at you and laughed at your weak state.

"Take your time, baby, but don't fall asleep on me," he hummed as he pulled open the drawer and began to search for the toys. "Finish getting undressed for me while I look, m'kay? But leave the belt on." You briefly considered taking the belt off, just to see what Chan would do. Then, with his next words, you decided to follow his orders.

"You don't want to know what happens when you challenge me." Though his voice was light, you feared what he insinuated by that comment. You were oddly intrigued, yearning to know what he would do. Yet, since you were already exhausted, you knew that today was no day to mess with your Channie. Especially since he had a rough day: you wanted to be good for him, and he needed you to be good for him. You still wanted to please. You left the belt on and continued to undress.

"Oh! I found your treasure," Chan teased as he fiddled through the drawer. God, if you weren't embarrassed already, you certainly were when Chan pulled out your large vibrator.

"What have we here?" He taunted, studying the body massager in the light like it was a precious artifact. You sat silent and petrified. Chris stood up, studying the massager and tossing it in his hand.

"This will do just fine," he smiled. Then, with a gingerly throw, the vibrator landed next to you on the bed.

"Use it." The air went stale.

"Chris, I-I'm so sensitive, please," you pleaded. Yet, he continued to stare at you. He barely noticed your tits were out, erect and still glistening from him lapping them up with your bra on. Well, it's not like he "didn't notice": he had begun to palm his erection through his shorts, licking his lips at the sight of you laid out for him.

"Start slowly then, love," he instructed. He stripped himself of his shorts, leaving him in his boxers and showcasing his fat and needy cock through the tight material. He then sat on the bed next to you and picked up the toy again. With a click, the buzzing ensued. Chan glanced at you before reaching for your hand, placing the vibrating toy in your palm and forcing you to hold it.

"Come one, y/n," he whispered into your ear, "you have to keep giving me all you got." His hands then caressed your legs and pet your hair, a faint act to show he was still going to coax you through your next orgasm. Then, his hands moved yours towards your pulsating cunt, his eyebrows raised in a display of fake anticipation.

You grasped the vibrator with both hands at it was forced into your clit, moans instantly leaving you as your body hummed with stimulation.

"God, it's too much," you whimpered, tears brimming your eyes. As you sniffled, Chan pressed kisses into your face and massaged your tits and thighs, pinching your nipples and groping your flesh.

"No, it's perfect," he corrected. "You feel all the love I'm giving you, y/n? All the pleasure?" He then let his hand leave your thigh for a second to switch the power higher on the vibrator, the humming now crying in your ears.

"Mmh! Fuck, yes, Chris!" You moaned as your thighs crushed the toy between your thighs. Each whimper that left you made Chan's smile more sincere, and more eager, and it made him switch your toy higher.

"You need to stop trying to make me happy, yeah?" he tutted, "I just wanna make you feel happy. Make you come. Over, and over, and over until you're soaked, and so easy to slide into, yeah?"

"Yes, yes," you moaned. "Just wanna be your perfect little pocket pussy, your fleshlight t-to use. Fuck—ah!" Another power increase.

"If you cum for me one more time," he softly spoke to you, "then I'll give you my cock. You'd like my cock, wouldn't you, y/n?"

You nodded vigorously, "Yes, yes, I want my Channie's cock, his big fucking dick so deep in me."

"Fuck," Chan groaned, increasing the power once more, "I'll fill you up when you take me, I'll give you so much cock and make you addicted to me."

"A-already am," you corrected, "already am obsessed with you, honey." Chan's hand pinched your tits, smiling as you approached your third orgasm of the night.

"My good princess," he kissed you lovingly. For the last time, he increased the power, the toy now buzzing at full capacity. "Now come once more and you'll get it, you'll get my cock."

"Chan, Chan, Chan, fuck—" you panted as you came. The sheets and your thighs became drenched in your cum as you squirted around the toy.

"My baby, so good," Chan cheered, so fucking happy at seeing your cum drench the cotton of your bedspread. Your hands fell beside you, the toy still buzzing as you gasped for breath. Chan smiled eagerly beside you, switching the toy off and tossing it aside on the comforter. He then laid beside you, pulling you close and nuzzling you. You lay completely flat as your chest rose and fell deeply, Chan cuddling into your side and holding you close. As if on command, his bulge proceeded to hump into your leg, desperate to get off despite your complete exhaustion.

"Fuck the sheets, don't worry about them. They were gonna be covered in cum anyways."

"Fuck 'em," you repeated mindlessly in a quiet voice.

"Y/n," Chan breathily laughed at your repetition, his hips still unconsciously bucking into your leg.

"Fuck these sheets..." you continued, "fuck the petals." You were completely gone, and Chan knew it. Yet, that didn't stop him. He played with your hair as he let you settle down, still rubbing into you as you sniffed your delicious scent.

"Yeah, fuck the sheets, my little cum-covered baby," he moaned, squishing himself closer and closer to you. Kisses ghosted your face, coating your skin in love. As his kisses moved from the side of your face to your nose and the center of your lips, he shifted his weight on top of you. Every kiss, however, became more determined, more eager, more desperate.

"God, I've needed you," he groaned as you clung to him, your body automatically responding to his touches regardless of how far your mind was. "I've waited to fuck you for so long, and I'm gonna make you come again and again. You've only given me three... Fuck, I wonder how many more can I get?" His hands suddenly slipped under your knees and wrapped them around his waist.

"Ah!" You yelped, eyes wide.

"That woke you up," he mused. He studied your glistening body, rubbing your legs and gripping your chest as he realized just how lucky he was.

"Fuck, your beautiful," he breathed out.

He then freed his cock from his boxers, the painfully hard erection slapping against his lower abdomen. Though you were depleted of all energy, your mouth instantly watered. He was large, veiny, and the perfect size with just a little bit of curve. You wanted to grab him and offer him a few much-needed strokes, but Chris' own hands beat you to it.

"Fuck, feels so good," he whimpered as he focused on his tip, pumping it quickly with a sloppy grip. His other hand now rubbed the mess between your thighs, easing two fingers into your quivering cunt to make sure you were still properly stretched out. However, the act made you convulse, still shaking from the slightest touch.

"T-too much, Channie," you whined. "God, 'm cumming too much."

"Shh, shh, baby," Chris hushed. He brought his thumb up to your mouth, pushing on your bottom lip with a mischievous smile playing on his face. "You are gonna take everything. Sorry if it is too much, but I gotta make you feel good." You let his thumb push into your mouth, offering it a few sucks to soothe yourself.

"There you go," he mumbled. Chris hissed with each swirl of your tongue. He pictured his red cock-head in your mouth instead of his thumb. And, though he desired to fuck your pretty mouth so badly, he knew he couldn't take it. He would've cum down your throat, and he didn't want to waste any of it by having you swallow it; he'd rather fill your pussy. He needed his cock in your cunt. Now.

"Keep sucking like a good girl, y/n," he hummed. "Yeah, just like that." With a final rub on his dick, he eased his dick between your legs. Gathering your cum, he rubbed his pulsing tip up and down, each stroke teasing your clit.

Your moans vibrated around Chan's thumb as your pussy clenched from the overstimulation.

"Shh, baby," Chan laughed, eyes pinched shut from the feeling of your wet, sensitive pussy. "Fuck, such a good girl with such a n-nice pussy—mmh, fuck!"

"Chris!"

It slipped in, just for a second. The tip of his fat cock sucked into your cunt, still tight but soaked from your juices. Just for a second. Not even.

But, fuck, it felt like heaven.

As soon as his cockhead dipped into your sopping cunt, you popped Chris' digit out of your mouth, moaning as he eased his veiny erection into you. For Chris, the feeling of you finally wrapped around him—still tight and twitching with every inch—made him lose the little sanity he had. When he first saw you in the bed, it took every bit of strength to resist his urges. Now, he felt like a horny teenager. The animalistic parts he tried to keep hidden, tried to restrain were now emancipated from his normally composed self. By the time he bottomed out, he knew he had lost all sense of control.

"Y-you better cum," he panted, slightly pulling out. Your watery eyes met his while your hands traced his abs, fingers delicately teasing the strained skin. "Cum when I tell you to," he finished.

He then pulled out and pushed in again harshly, mercilessly fucking your sopping cunt at a deep, reckless pace. The squelching sounds of your pussy around him filled the room and were harmonized by your moans that you felt unable to hold back.

"Such a tight, perfect little pretty pussy," he moaned as his hands fondled you. "God, y/n, what you do to me. So patient this whole night for my cock"

"Channie..." All you could do was moan in response or say his name. They were the only things that came to mind. What little energy you had left was expended to keep you awake, but that wasn't difficult with Chris rocking you on his cock.

"You look so g-good with my dick in you," he praised, "you look perfect, l-like it was made for my baby." He then reached beside your body, and as he did his body weight shifted so he was no longer sitting up. The angle did not change the speed of his hips nor how deep his cock dug into you. Your hands had someone found their way to his shoulders, holding him close and petting him gently: an act that contrasted the harsh snap of his hips. His face was now inches from yours, studying as his hand searched for what he yearned for. Glancing up, you caught a flash of colour and discovered what he grabbed.

The vibrator. Fuck.

It clicked on and the hum brought a smirk to Chris' face, a cocky expression still plastered on it.

"Chris! N-no—"

"Y/n," his panting voice stopped you. "Yes." Your eyes followed the buzzing toy down as it moved between your bodies, fearing the moment it would meet your clit. When it did, it made you yelp out again. Finally, after a night of torture, tears began to fall from your eyes.

"Hmph! Channie, w-wait baby, please," you wept.

"Give me another, c'mon, c'mon, y/n, baby, I know you have it, cream around my c-cock, baby, please," he begged as he rocked into you faster, enjoying the vibrations he felt on his cock when he dragged it out of your pussy.

"Chris, C-Chris, Chris," you babbled out.

Click. He increased the power.

Suddenly, your fourth orgasm was pulled from you, clamping around Chan's cock and gushing around him, but not as much as when you squirted earlier.

Chris, however, had never felt better.

"Fuck," he choked out, trying to hold himself back, "Fuck, you feel so good, you h-hug me so nicely. Wanna k-keep you on my cock at all times, wanna be able to f-fuck you always."

As his voice cracked, you swore he was about to start tearing up, as well. However, his pace never relented. When you came, he pressed the vibrator harder into you and let you ride out your orgasm on his cock before tossing the toy aside. Though you tried to cling to him, he pulled his torso off of you, allowing him to slip out of you and lightly slap his cock on your clit, making you shiver.

"Want another?" He teased as if he wasn't whimpering just moments ago. However, you could barely whine at the question.

"I'll give you another," Chris continued as he gripped your body harshly, flipping you over onto your stomach with his God-like strength. "I-I'll make you cum again and again until you pass out on my cock." You turned your head back to him, eyes suddenly pleading, loving the pleasure but also fearing how your legs shook without even being touched.

Chan chuckled, giving your ass a harsh spank and rubbing the pain away after you yelped.

"Get on all fours for now, okay? You've been so good, love." Mindlessly, you followed his orders, assisted by his hands as he gripped your hips, pulling your ass into the air.

He offered you some light spanks as he lined himself up. Teasing your entrance yet again, he slapped his leaking cock against your used pussy. Gingerly, he pulled the belt that still clung to your waist off of your body, then let it go. It smacked against you, making you whimper from the sting.

"Such a nice ass, beautiful fucking hips," he panted as you arched your back, accentuating the curvature of your ass. You glanced back, staring at the flushed man behind you. He was biting his lips so severely that you swore he would draw blood. The sweat that poured from him caused his curly hair to cling to his forehead and his chest to glisten. There was something about how perfect he looked that stirred something within you. It was as if, somehow, you found your voice, speaking a coherent sentence for the first time since your first orgasm.

"Fuck me, Channie," his eyes caught yours, shocked you were able to even think right now. "Fuck me like you mean it." Chan groaned at your words.

"Anything for you, princess," he responded. His fat cock pushed into you, hips meeting yours and rutting himself deeply into you. He set a steady yet carnal tempo, his grunts and moans becoming more vocal each time he buried his cock in you. Moans came unfiltered from your mouth, muffled only by the spent bedsheets that would never be used again after tonight.

"L-look at how your ass bounces on my cock," he whimpered. "S-such a fat, tight ass—fuck a wanna watch you ride me."

"Chan, your cock is s-so perfect," you mewled out, "Fill me up so well."

"Y/n," he moaned out in response. He bent over you now. Chest to back, fingers on your clit, cock rubbing into that soft part in your cunt. Fuck, he's perfect. Each circle around your abused and sensitive clit made you whimper louder and hug his dick harder. Yet, it only encouraged him to go harsher,

"I-I'm gonna stuff you full, fill your pretty precious pussy to the brim with my babies," he mewled, making you moan as well.

He grinned, "Y-you'd like that, hm? M-Mommy, make you a mommy. Make you a mommy so I can show everyone you're mine. Big tits, s-sensitive and leaking with m-milk after I fill you with my cum. Wanna keep you forever, need this pretty pussy forever. Fuck, it cums on command. Hugs me so well, so w-warm and tight and—fuck! Will b-be so good to have, let me fuck whenever, k-keep it and f-fill you up with my cum every day—Fuck!"

"Fuck your cum into me, Channie," you whimpered as his strokes became rapid and short, focusing on his head. "Want it, need you to fill me up. Wanna carry Channie's babies." Your words sent him spiralling.

"Fuck, y/n," he groaned. "Cumming, cumming. Inside—mmh! Gotta f-fill my princess—ah!" As his cum poured into you and his cock plunged deep, kissing your cervix. Your body convulsed and offered one last orgasm. You sobbed as you came, your cum mixing with his deep inside you.

"I cum," you whispered, "cum on Chris' cock, j-just as he likes." Chan laughed as he hugged you from behind, gripping your tummy, hips, thighs, and tits softly.

"Just how I like it," he murmured. "M-milking me dry, squeezing me with as you cream around my c-cock with your greedy cunt." He hummed into your ear, hips steadily rocking back and forth as he fell into bliss with the way his cum and your pussy felt around him. Once he was satisfied, he maneuvered you so you were able to lay down on the bed with him behind you. All the while, he was still deep inside you, a mixture of your cum trickling down both of your thighs.

"God, I love you, love your pussy, love you, so much," he mumbled as he rubbed your back, still buried in you.

"Chan..." you could barely respond. Yet, if you could, you would say you loved him, too. It was the first time he had said it, and he was buried in your full pussy. It wasn't the most romantic way of saying it, but it was memorable. God, was it memorable.

He stroked your tummy yet continued to hum, as if he were lulling you to sleep while trying to keep you awake simultaneously. It was as if he wanted to stay in this moment forever, perpetually buried in you and in absolute ecstasy.

"C'mon, love," he murmured after bringing himself dow, "let's take a bath. Get you cleaned up."

---

It was dark now and you lay silently on the fresh sheets that Chris had put on your bed. He had also blown out all the candles that were all practically puddles of wax. It was the late hours of the night, the kind of late where if you were to stay up a bit longer, you might be able to see the beginnings of the sunrise. Chan and you were about to go to bed. You cuddled together, him flat on his back and you laying partially on top of him. The air smelled the same as you: you had used the same body wash, the same lotion, and now laid on the clean soft linens of your bed. His chest beat slowly and rose to the rhythm of his gentle breaths.

"Do you think it'll work?" His voice was so soft, barely a whisper, yet it filled the whole room.

"What are you talking about?" You asked quietly, slightly fearing what he meant.

"Us? Our relationship?" Before you could panic, Chan began to elaborate. "If we are always trying to be the giver and not the receiver, how will there ever be a balance? Not like a... hierarchy, because fuck that." His words made you giggle, and you could feel a smile grow on his face as well before it faded with the next words he spoke. "But, still... I mean, we're both the ones who want to please the other. So... do you think we'll work out?"

You thought for a moment. With your head on Chan's chest, you swore you could feel his heart skip a beat as he awaited your response. Yet, he was joyous to see, through in the little light that played in the dark room, a delicate smile play on your face.

"I don't think it would be like a competition," you said slowly with almost a giggle in your voice. "I think that if we are always trying to be the giver, and always trying to be the one who pleases, then there would just be... a lot more love, you know? Always trying to make the other happy while still maintaining good boundaries, understandings, our own desires, needs... then, I think we'd be fine."

You glanced up at Chan, and through the darkness saw the faint glimmer of pride, love, and adoration in his eye.

"We would have created a house of love, not contempt."

You loved him back.

"I think we'll be okay," you finished. "We will work out. We'll be okay."

Disavowed - pt. 3

[5.3k Words/20min. Read - Priest!Chris x Reader - NSFW/Smut - Church, What Are You Doing?, Disgusting Old Men, Jisung is... Nice, Something Feels Off, Harrowing Guilt, Guilty Pleasures, Self-Doubt, Priest Kink, Semi-Public Sex, Hand Jobs, Fellatio, Confessional Sex, Outdoor Sex, Uncomfortable Moments]

[a/n: ty to @therhythmafterthesummer and @magicficwriting for beta reading and previewing 💗]

[Part 1 | Part 2 | Come Say Hi!]

Maybe you were wrong. 

Maybe Jisung was annoying. 

All you’d asked for on Monday was a place to hang out on your breaks, but today Jisung brought you a cup of tea while you hung out in the library. You’d been searching for a little peace and quiet, but the reverend was far too polite to leave you alone. 

Was he being nice? Or was he “being nice?”

This was crazy. You were being crazy.

That bite mark from your first night together still wasn’t gone.

You’d been veritably losing it since Chris kicked you out early on Saturday morning, after you'd attempted to sympathize with him. He apparently saw right through you. You’d tried to feel bad, but no one made him sleep with you. 

Twice. 

He kicked you out right after that. 

“I think you should go.”

You didn’t even try to fight it. Instead, you marched right out to your car parked outside and drove the humbling 30 minutes home before attempting to ignore your fellow boarders curiously watching you come home at the crack of dawn. 

Church was so awkward on Sunday. 

And now you were hiding out in the library again. The front office felt cramped even though it was only you and Roberta, the elderly school receptionist. It was more than likely the presence of Sister Judith looming in the background at all times, lurking in her office, or the occasional intrusion of Father James. The old man had greeted you on Sunday before mass, patting your shoulder but not saying hello. You would’ve preferred it the other way around, but instead you let it go. 

Unlike this whole fiasco with Chris. 

When you weren’t busy wondering how you could make Chris do the right thing and turn himself in, you were hideously consumed with the thought of making him crumble again the way you did on Friday night. He’d been so eager, so overcome and willing to succumb that you were convinced he’d do anything you wanted. A part of you wondered why you were so rabid about this, but another part of you thought that seemed pretty obvious.

You used to never be like this.

Or, at least, you used to be pretty sure that you’d never been like this.

Jisung slid into the chair across from yours, startling you where you were tucked away in a back corner of the library. “Enjoying your break?” the reverend asked chipperly. He gestured at the mug in front of you. “You’ve hardly touched your tea.”

You helplessly shrugged. “It’s not a chamomile type of day, I guess,” you fibbed.

“I have a whole stash if you’d like to try,” he quickly offered, holding up a hand to count. “I got black, jasmine, green, Earl grey–”

“That’s alright, Reverend–”

He humbly waved you off, a gesture that looked oddly familiar until you realized you saw Chris do it the week before. “Oh, please, call me Jisung–”

“Jisung,” you interrupted him in return, “thank you. But I should get going back, shouldn’t I?”

You were lying through your teeth. Shameful. Sister Judith hardly ever left her office, so she’d never know you were missing, let alone care. The only evidence of your overly long breaks would maybe be security tapes, but it’d already been explained to you that footage was wiped every 24 hours. You got up, thanking Jisung again before trotting out of the library and finally relaxing–

Until you rounded the corner and ran into Father James. 

You didn’t know much about the old man. He was fairly friendly and kind, and he admittedly had a decent sense of humor. However, there was no one at school he seemed to spend time with, no members of the congregation that he chatted with after mass. You supposed he lived a lonely life.

Father James looked down at you, brows raised in surprise before he let out a chuckle. “You scared me, lamb. Are you out for a stroll, too?”

“Oh, no,” you panicked, feeling caught. “I was just, uhm, stopping by to say hi to the reverend on my way to, uh, pick up some attendance reports.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “Maybe you’d like to escort me to the courtyard? It’s time for my break.” The father patted the pack of cigarettes in his breast pocket. You looked down the hall. The courtyard was between the church and the walkway to the church, out behind the gym–

The gym.

What a good escape plan. You’d gracefully leave the father’s company, and get to see how Chris was doing. Father James cheekily offered you his arm and you hesitated before taking it. For an older man, he had a surprising definition of muscle under his shirt sleeve. This made you shiver for some reason you weren’t quite in the mood to unpack just yet.

“I’ve hardly met you, lamb,” Father James smirked. “I hear you’re staying in Mr. Kim’s boarding house with all those rowdy young men. Is his grandson treating you kindly?”

“Er, you mean Seungmin?” you asked. “He’s great. All of them are gentlemen, honestly.” You were confused. Rowdy wasn’t exactly the word you’d use to describe the boarding house and its inhabitants. The most commotion you’d witnessed was a betting pool fiasco for some dating show and discovering who was shirking their dishwashing in the kitchen. 

“And you moved here all by yourself?” he continued. “Not looking to find a beau here, are you?”

You nearly visibly gagged on this new set of questions. “Uh, heh, no,” you babbled, “I mean, yes, I moved here by myself, but–”

“I’m joking, lamb,” the old priest condescended. “That’s you and your business. But if that’s actually one of God’s gifts for you, you’d be wise to accept it.”

“What about you?” you curiously asked. “Do you ever wonder if it was originally one of God’s gifts for you?”

Father James shrugged, his bicep brushing uncomfortably against you and making you take a sidestep as you walked together. “I don’t worry myself with that anymore. I can enjoy plenty of God’s gifts from right here where I’m at.”

That shiver was back, and you’d never been more happy to see the gym before in your life. You craned your neck to see as you passed by the door and sure enough, there was Chris, supervising his class doing sit-ups. Although you’d done nothing to announce your presence, he happened to look up from his clipboard right at that moment. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say his eyes widened at his notice of you.

“Excuse me, Father,” you giddily apologized, “Father Chris was one of those teachers I needed attendance reports from.”

“Would you like me to wait for you?” he asked.

“No thank you,” you insisted. “You should go take your break.”

Father James nodded benevolently, watching you leave before resuming his casual stride out to the courtyard. You strolled into the gym, trying to contain how satisfying it was to see Chris be visibly alerted by your presence.

He held your gaze, unyielding as he blew his whistle. “Five laps outside,” he announced to the class, gaining groans in response.

He was cute in his joggers and hoodie. You both waited until his last student trudged outside before he finally let out a sigh he’d been holding.

“Can I help you?” he asked, half depleted, half resigned.

“I’m just seeing how you’re doing,” you innocently answered.

“Friday night should not have happened.”

“Well it happened,” you shrugged, “so now what do you suggest I do? Because I have half a mind to report you for misconduct–”

“You do not have to do that,” Chris blustered. “What are you getting out of antagonizing me like this? Last I checked, it takes at least two to… Do that.”

“Last I checked,” you bit back, “only one of us took vows to not do that. So, again: what would you suggest I do?”

Father Chris reeled, about to snap his clipboard in half. “Go to confession and let it go, would you?!”

You folded your arms indignantly. “Good idea. Thanks for the tip.”

Chris watched helplessly while you ended the conversation before he expected and sauntered out of the gym. Judging by his bewilderment, he was prepared for you to dig your heels in again. But you weren’t interested in keeping up a petty confrontation when you knew you could very well turn in Chris of your own accord. The whole point was to make him do it himself, really turn this around and do the right thing. That was the hard part here, the nuance to this entire debacle that made it so impossible for you to “let this go,” as he put it.

You loved that for something seemingly so easy to you, he was well and truly struggling with it. Despite his vows, he wanted you and he wanted you bad enough to fuck up twice. That was too crazy to move on from.

Not without going to confession first.

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

Confession at Pinewood Falls Church was held on Wednesday nights, after choir practice and youth group. Your housemates were confused, to say the least, when you grabbed your coat after dinner to head back out.

“You’re going… to confession?” Felix ogled. Seungmin smirked in the background, amused. Felix, apparently, ended up in Pinewood Falls filling in for the local librarian.

“What could it hurt?” you nonchalantly asked. “I’m trying to be part of the community.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been to confession,” Minho thought out loud, not even looking up. He was reclined on the window bench, paging through the newspaper. From what you knew, Minho was some sort of accountant by trade, but he deemed his work too boring to talk about. “I don’t even know how it works, come to think of it.”

“It’s terrible,” Jeongin moaned. The youngest of all of you, Jeongin was Seungmin’s cousin and worked a blue collar job at the local post office. “You sit in a tiny room alone with the priest and tell him everything.”

“You never had a screen?” asked Hyunjin, sounding distant while he did the crossword from Minho’s newspaper. He was a full-time artist, a job that seemed too simple to ever be easy. “There was always a screen between me and the priest when my parents made me go.”

“You guys never just went to confession?” Changbin butted in on his way from the kitchen, pulling off a pair of rubber gloves after washing dishes. As it turned out, Changbin also worked at a school, but not Pinewood Prep. He actually worked in Briar Bay, humorously enough, at the public school there as a math teacher. “I sort of liked confession, before I ever learned what therapy is.”

“Well I’m going,” you shrugged. “It’s an experiment. I’m trying new things.”

“Have fun then,” Seungmin grinned, humoring you. “Stay out of trouble.”

Fair enough. It seemed that when Chris was involved, that was a good warning to give. You drove your trusty little beater back to school, parking behind the dumpsters by the gym where no one would easily spot you. Chris’ truck was parked right by Father James’ closer to the building, the two sporting annoyingly matching vehicles with eerily similar paint jobs. It was almost like Father Chris was chemically made in a lab to make the old man love him as much as humanly possible, and that made his betrayal of his morals that much more wild to you.

The crowd inside the chapel was beginning to thin by that point. You’d made a distinct effort to come near the end of the night, if for no other reason than to reduce how many people saw you there. A fair line of students and a few choir members still remained so you lingered. Minutes passed, and you watched penitents intermittently enter and exit the two confessional booths. Being left to stew like this was agonizing. For as self-assured as you felt, it was hard not to hook on one thing. 

You’re so bad for me.

He’d said it in the heat of the moment, but the sentiment was driving you, ever since Chris kicked you out on Saturday. You were “bad” for him but he let himself have you nonetheless. The power in that felt formidable. Chris wanted you bad enough to be tested by you, and you wanted him to be. You didn’t fully know what to do with this so it sat, tugging at you.

Father James eventually exited the confessional on the left, sliding a little “closed” sign into place over the door handle. You pivoted, with the rest of the remaining parishioners, to join the line on the right, making sure to pull up the rear now that you knew the right way to go. You counted heads in front of you while you tried to hush your stubbornly persistent thoughts. Finally, you were next, and no one else was around. 

Your breath wavered for a second before you opened the confessional booth door. As much as you wanted to carry this out, there was still some intimidation. Maybe your conscience was trying to get through to you. 

Inside the dimly lit booth, it was clear that it had been, at one point, a traditional set-up where the partition wall was once a screen and the priest and penitent would be in their respective halves. In its present state, this booth was cramped, small with its two chairs facing each other. Chris was seated in the far seat, head bowed in reflection. He was fully robed, and a rosary was wrapped around his hand, currently holding a bible in his lap. 

When he lifted his gaze, you could tell he typically didn’t look all the way up so he could give some grace and privacy, but he did this time. 

And he was nervous. 

You were enjoying this too much. 

Chris swallowed a lump in his throat before motioning for you to sit. You set down your bag and coat. He crossed himself, leading you to mirror him. 

“In the name of the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit.”

He waited, perhaps patiently, for you to continue. Thankfully, you did know this bit. 

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession in a pretty long time.”

You didn’t bow your head. Instead, when Chris looked up from his lap, he found you looking right at him. The young priest cleared his throat a second time and nodded for you to proceed. “Whenever you’re ready,” he assured you. Or maybe himself. 

You were so oddly at peace. Maybe it was his dread energizing you. 

“I unknowingly slept with a priest,” you stated, clear and concise. 

Chris nodded with a frown. “I see.”

“And then I did it again,” you clarified.

“Why’s that?”

You crossed your legs, catching Chris’ eye as if you weren’t just wearing the same skirt and blouse you’d worn to work that day. The move pushed your modest high heel under his robe. 

“You’re not supposed to ask questions,” you chided. 

“I just want to know why you did it,” he defended, dropping any professionalism left by now. 

“I’m more concerned with why he did it,” you challenged. 

“Why do you think so?” asked Chris. 

What a terrible question. 

The priest watched helplessly as you slid your patent leather pump higher under his robe until you were at his knee. 

“Maybe he’s lonely,” you thought out loud, teasing your foot higher up his thigh. 

Chris’ grip on his bible grew tighter.

“Maybe he’s desperate,” you continued. The sole of your shoe now pressed gently against the unmistakable bulge in his slacks.

Father Chris winced when he twitched in response to your touch.

“Maybe,” you emphasized, “he has some regrets that he’s working through.”

“That is more than enough–” he tried to argue, except he was interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

Chris’ eyes widened, if not for the intrusion then for you capitalizing on it, slipping onto your knees in front of him in the dim confessional.

“Christopher? You’re not still seeing anyone, are you?”

Father James.

You met Chris’ eye, and he silently begged you to slow down with a firm shake of his head. However, you continued toward your objective, lifting the priest’s robe enough to access his belt and zipper. He was egregiously warm in your hand.

“No, sir,” he finally coughed out, “everyone’s gone for the night. I was just doing some, er, reflecting on my own.”

“Ah,” came Father James through the door. “Will you be much longer?”

Chris stared down at you, silently cursing and nearly ripping his bible in half when your tongue delicately extended to tease his length. “Nh-no,” he half-moaned, half-answered. “I’ll finish what I’m doing and lock up.”

“Fair enough. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

The two of you locked eyes in excruciating silence while waiting for the old priest to leave.

At least, it was excruciating for Chris.

“Why are you doing this?” he feebly asked, curling in on himself enough that he dropped his bible. His hand extended, the rosary wrapped in his fingers leaving little prints on his skin when he fought between wanting to push you off of him and wanting to pull you closer.

You cocked an eyebrow and leaned down to kiss the leaking tip of his erection. “Why’d you lie?”

“This is your confession,” Chris persisted. “What’re you getting out of this?”

There was the question again, only rephrased this time. What were you getting out of this?

Aside, you supposed, from how satisfied you felt watching this man crumple for you.

“What does it matter?” you answered, aloof. “I told you how to make it stop. You like following your calling? You want to make it up to the powers that be? Maybe start with your own confession.”

You got up then, dusting off your knees and coolly grabbing your bag and coat. Chris gaped at you, a myriad of emotions running through him as you abandoned him, hard and aroused in the confessional booth.

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

For all intents and purposes, you were doing great now. It truly felt like, for the first time since you met him, that you had the advantage over Chris.

You only wished, then, that you weren’t in such a terrible mood.

This was Father James’ fault this time. You’d brought the old man his mail, a task Jacqueline used to do, all the way at his office in the back of the chapel. 

“Shame the weather’s turning,” he’d lamented. “But I thought that’d mean you’d start wearing those sweaters you were wearing when you first started again. They were so flattering on you.”

You could’ve puked, and there was still acid in your throat in the thirty minutes that had passed since then. There was something off about that man, something that didn’t sit right with you. No, you were in a horrid mood. 

Which meant it was a terrific time to see if Chris had taken your suggestion to heart.

You strolled into the gym with 15 minutes to spare in his planning period. Finding the gym empty, you checked his office next. 

However, the office was empty, too. You hazarded a quick look around, though, your curiosity getting the better of you. For such a warmly received man, Chris had no photos hanging in his office. Aside from his computer and phone on his desk, he had a filing cabinet, a clock radio, and a bookshelf. From here, however, you could see that the door to the boys locker room was open. You were about to peek inside, when a hand on your shoulder startled you.

Chris looked as pissed as he seemed to typically be lately. He had on his cute sweats and hoodie again.

“Can I help you with something?” he sighed.

“Well, I can see you still have a job, so I’m guessing you haven’t turned yourself in.”

The priest groaned in frustration. “Would you stop toying with me?! Is that all you want, for me to lose everything?”

“What can I say?” you shrugged. “Doing the right thing isn’t always supposed to be easy.”

“Right,” Chris said, “but you’re not exactly making it any easier.”

“You could always admit you just want me instead,” you offered. “That should be easy. You did it just fine last week.”

However, as simply as you said it, this stopped you in your tracks. This was never on your list of demands. Your objective, so far, was to torment Chris until he finally gave up and turned himself in.

But, no.

Something about him. 

You’d accept devotion, too.

Chris glowered in opposition to you. “James was right,” he growled, “you looked better in those sweaters you were wearing.”

The audacity of the remark caught you off guard, and you were suddenly on edge. Not only had Father James made the ridiculous comment in the first place, but he’d also shared the sentiment with Chris?

The sensation of acid in your throat returned and you turned heel at once, prepared to walk out and try to calm the hell down. 

But you barely made it out of Chris’ office before his hand was on your wrist and reeling you back inside.

“Wait wait wait,” he pleaded, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have said that–”

He’d already herded you onto his desk, the paperwork there getting shuffled off as he feverishly kissed you all over, your lips down to your neck and back.

“Chris–!” you gasped, your hands balled in his hoodie. “You fucking asshole, why should I–”

“I said it in the heat of the moment!” he backpedaled. “You make me so angry but fuck–”

“You want me?” you taunted, even while Chris shimmied your skirt up around your hips. He pulled your panties aside but paused then.

“I do,” he pathetically nodded, “let me have you, I need you so fucking bad.”

You mercifully nodded, letting out a small, sighed moan when Chris sank into you.

“I swear to God,” he groaned into your shoulder, “I haven’t always been like this, there’s just something about you…”

He trailed off then, lost in how he was fucking you hard into his desk, enough for the surface to rattle and creak. Chris was interestingly quiet. It was as though he were convinced someone would come at any second, or that he’d waste his shot too soon if he didn’t focus. That didn’t mean you couldn’t coax him along, of course. Again, there was something about the way he gave into you that energized you. You threaded your fingers into his hair, whispering sweet little taunts and praise in his ear while you wrapped your legs around his hips. An orgasm didn’t seem to be on the horizon for you, not with how little time left you had in the class period, but it was fun to see how much you could rush him. Soon enough, Chris cursed harshly under his breath into the crook of your neck, his hips shuddering against you as he came.

You held him for a moment while he caught his breath.

Maybe affectionately, you humored.

“I need to see you again,” he murmured into your skin. “Come see me tonight.”

You considered this. That same uneasy feeling returned.

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

Why you said yes was beyond you. 

Day by day, you were playing more and more with fire and close to getting burned for it. 

Not to mention it was a school night. 

But Chris looked amazing in the low light of the Trawler.

He’d even picked you up at your place. Not with flowers or anything, and it’s not like he was going to risk being recognized by coming to the door, but still. The boys that were home at the boarding house were all peeking from around corners or through the front window to see who you were leaving with, but Chris had opted to wear another ballcap tonight for good measure. You definitely aroused your roommates’ curiosity in the first place, however, with how you’d opted for a cute dress to wear under your cardigan. Even now, after all this time, you were still patting concealer on the love bite between your breasts in case anyone accidentally saw down your chest. And as for your ride, Chris’ truck was far more comfortable to ride in than it was to fuck in, but you humored that that was probably the case for most vehicles. 

The worst part was that this was a good time.

Chris wasn’t pushy. He wasn’t gross or crude. When you arrived at the Trawler, he pulled out a chair for you and went to order drinks.

This was terrible. It was like getting a hint of what this could really be like if you were actually willing to keep this charade up any longer.

Because you weren’t going to keep this up.

Right?

Eventually, Chris pulled off his hat and rolled up the sleeves of his sweater, the heater in the bar and the rosiness in his cheeks finally getting to him. He was maddeningly cute, his curls flattened by his cap and the lighting in the bar highlighting the dimple in his cheek.

“How long have you lived here?” you asked. “I know you’re supposed to be moving to Pinewood Falls, but how’s Briar Bay been for you?”

“Gosh,” chuckled Chris, “it feels like a lifetime ago. I love it here, though. And maybe I won’t move to Pinewood anymore.”

“Why?” you questioned, too surprised.

“Because you live there,” he laughed. “And apparently you’re trouble for me.”

The night transitioned to a walk that you knew wouldn’t end up back at your room at Seungmin’s boarding house. He’d been the one to ask, and you accepted.

He held your hand, gentle yet steadfast as though he were afraid you’d leave if he let go. You still couldn’t get much information out of him, but you begrudgingly loved everything you learned. Chris loved studying interpretation theory in seminary. He wanted to live in Briar Bay because of how close it was to the water. While you strolled through neighborhoods, he said he loved the way you glowed in the moonlight.

So he even had a little romance in him.

Your walk led to a field behind the house Chris rented the upper floor of. This was clearly a sanctuary for countless teenagers over the years, with an old bench seat of a truck and a few milk crates laid out in a clearing of the tall grass. This was how you ended up making love to Chris that night, right there on the ratty, beaten bench seat underneath the dark blue sky.

Chris took his time with you, savoring this like either of you might forget again. He brazenly tasted you, an appetizer for him that left you exposed to the night air, and already had you gasping and aching by the time he crawled up in between your legs. Your warmth accepted his own, smoothly stretching to take him deep inside you. It was like you were a few years younger, more naive, simply enjoying each other in the moment. He was generous with his kisses in between thrusts. If he pulled away from your mouth for too long, his lips were cold from the chill of the night, so he simply kept kissing you.

To try and keep yourself from reaching a peak too soon, you kept your eyes fixed on the attic window of the old house. Frankly, you’d been thinking about why Chris had been weird about it off and on for the past week, but now it was a convenient distraction. The window was fogged with dust, further obscuring anything inside, forming a neat little void in your limited vision under the stars. There was a small bit of movement, but you quickly decided that there was a loose shingle in the roof, letting in a breeze that was shaking an old curtain.

“I’m sorry,” Chris suddenly said, jarring you out of your train of thought.

“What?” you worriedly asked, cupping his face and causing him to minorly adjust his angle, making the both of you gasp with an incidentally improved position.

“I said I’m sorry,” groaned Chris. “I shouldn’t even fucking tell you this but I feel like I love you. Is that okay?”

You stared at him, mouth hanging open while you processed this.

This was far too much.

Beyond acceptable.

But you adored it.

“Yeah,” you nodded hungrily, still holding his face in your hands and kissing him again. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

╚⊶⊶⊶⊶⊶✞⊷⊷⊷⊷⊷╝

You didn’t wake up alone the next morning this time.

This time, you woke up alone in the middle of the night. 

Same room, same dim light coming from the kitchen. This felt more like a dream. You slipped out of bed, not surprised to find yourself clothed. This time, you distinctly didn’t remember doing anything following your tryst in the field behind the house, so the only gap was from there to here.

Your footfalls felt muted when you stepped into the kitchen. Really, it felt like your ears were full of cotton, like you had a sinus headache. “You’re not kicking me out again, are you?” you lightly teased, only to find that you were alone. 

In fact, the light wasn’t even coming from the kitchen. It was coming from above you.

From the attic.

Yeah. This was a dream.

You spied an old folding step ladder sitting by the refrigerator and dragged it over. The way it creaked and flexed when you opened it didn’t make you feel confident, but you set it under the attic door nonetheless. Whatever it was making your hearing feel muffled was worse, now sounding like a low tone being played in a physician’s office for privacy.

The step ladder felt shaky under your feet. You gingerly pushed up the attic door, peeking inside. The hushed roar of sound raised to the volume of a jet engine.

But there was Chris.

And there was the light.

What a weird dream.

“It’s not fair!” Chris argued, almost whining, his voice strained as though he were choked up. “I’m not as strong as you think I am! I want this, I honestly want all of it–”

"̴̫͕̪̔͐͒Y̵̠̘̦̿̽ó̵̝͚͎̈́̈́u̴͎͖͓̔͆͠ a̴̡̠͕̿̐͠r̸̙̘̓̕̚͜e̸͇̻̓́͑ n̴̦̘͒͆͘͜o̸̘̞͇̓̀̿ b̸͕̟̓͒é̵͖͎̐̀͜t̴̝͖̐͝͠t̴̡̙͍͛̈́͝e̵͔̠͇͘͠͝r̸̼͖̘͑̀͠ t̴̫͍͊̓̈́h̴̘͓͖̔̔͋a̵̟̫͓̾̔͠n̸̡̠͙̓͋͋ a̴̢͉͋͒͘ p̵̢̻̫̐͊͒e̸̘̪͙͑̚͠t̴̟͔͚́̓͋u̴͎͉̐̽̒l̴̞͔͖͘͠a̴͓͙͎̽͊͝n̵̙͉͔̒̓͊t̵̪̘͓̒͛͊ c̵͚͓̘̒̈́h̴͕̪̝̓͠͝i̵̡̘̼͑͊̐l̴̡͎̝͌͛͌d̴͉͔̺̓̓͠.̵͇͉̈́͛͝ T̸̡͎̙̽͝ḧ̴͎͇͔́͆͝é̸͇̺͝ p̸̞̞̘̽͑̿a̸͙̪̪̽͊t̵̙͚͑̚͝h̸͉̼̟̓͌͘ w̵̫͎̺̾̔͒i̴̘̟͊̈́͘͜l̵͕̻̻͆̕͝l̴̪͖͕̒͐ r̵̘͚͛̔͒u̴̝͚̘͐̿n̸͇͕̦͋͝ i̸̪͔͓̐̕͝ẗ̴͚͚̫́͝͝s̸̫͍̓̓͋ c̵̼͙̻̿̐o̵̡̘͌̈́͜͝u̸͇͇͎̚͝͠r̸͎͙̻͆̐͘s̵̠̘̝͒̓͊e̴͓͔̼̐͛͘ t̵͍͓̪͆̽͆o̵͎̻͉̓͐̾ ẗ̴̪́̓̀͜h̸̺͔̽́͒e̸̙͍̺̽̔͠ é̸͓̙̪̕͝n̴̟̙͎̒̿͝d̸̞̼̝̔̚̚.̸̻̫̠̐͛͐ I̴̦̺͎̓͊̚t̵̫̠͙͒͋͝ w̵͔̞̞͑̓͒í̵͙̙͘̕͜l̴̟͓̦̓̿͘ĺ̵̢̺͖̐̽ e̵̢̪̼̓̿̽i̸͍͍͇̐͐̚t̴͕͕͕͌͌̚h̴͚͕̼̔͝͝e̸͖͚̫͐͑͘r̴͔̪̓͌͜͝ s̵̡̺̟͋̽̚u̸͚̪̔̚͜͝c̵͔͔͙̈́͛̈́c̴͎̟̒́͌e̴͉̦͖͐͐͋è̵̪͎̠̔d̸̪̘̼͊͆̕ ò̵͇̼͚̈́̒r̵̠̘͙̈́̒͠ f̸̡͙̺͋̈́̈́a̴͓̼̽͑̈́͜i̴̡̘͖͑̓͝l̵͎̟͉̽͐̚, a̵̺̝̾̕͠n̸͇̘̪̽̓̀d̸̦̫̔͘̚͜ t̴̞͓̟͒͆̾h̸̙͓̔͒͊a̴̢̫̙͐͘̚t̸͉̻͑͋̈́ i̸͓̪̽͝s̸̞͖̦͆̈́̚ a̸͙͉͎͛͋̓l̴͙͇͔͋́͒l̴̢͔͖̈́̓͋.̴͖̝̼͛͑͆ B̸̪͇͌͆̚u̸͓̙̐͒͝t̴͉͚̙̓̓̽ i̴͙̻̘̔̚͝f̴͉͍̘̓͋͑ y̸̢̢̠͊͋͘o̴̡̺͉͊̈́͝u̵̞͎̘̓́ s̴̪͙͙͐̐͐ǘ̵̦͙̘̾̓c̸͎̼͓͛̔̔c̴̝͖̙͐̚é̴͖̠͉͛̿e̸̠̫͉͛̔͑d̸̘̦̪̾̀, y̵͉͔͑̈́͝ó̸̟͕̪̓̚ǘ̴̡͓̝͊͠ w̵̙̻̺̿͒̐i̸͙̟͚͛̀̕l̸̠̻͔̔͛̕l̴̪͓͙̐̚͝ b̴͚͕̦͆̀͌e̵̠̻̓̚ r̵̫̟͚̕͝͠e̴͙̞͚͛͆̕w̸͓̠͕̓͌͑a̵̦̪͊̓͑r̴̼̪̔͜͝d̸͉͓͎̓͠͝é̵͙͓͖̔̒d̵̢̘͉̓̔͝.̴͙͍͖̓͝"̸͎̻͋̀̽͜

“Rewarded? But how?!” Chris begged the voice. The labored gasps of tears marred his stubbornness. How were you so understanding in the middle of such a vivid dream? The attic window shined, almost like a Christmastime storefront, as if it were simply a spotlight recessed in the wall. “I can’t stand it, I feel sick, I can’t sleep, I’m weak and hurt–”

"̸̡̡̠͊̔͒C̴̦͚̘̿͘ë̴̼̟̪́͛a̸͎̪̝͛̀̚s̴͙͕̪̈́̈́͝ë̵̡͕̼́̽͐, m̸̡͓̫̈́̐y̵̪̝͓̿̓ é̴̢̙͉̈́͝ń̸̙͖͍̈́͒t̴͕̝͖͑̾r̸̫͎̝̓̀̕u̴͕͉͋́̾s̵̢̻̻̈́̓̈́t̵͔͙̠͑̾͝e̸͙̻͎͛̈́͠d̴̙͖̪̔̀͠.̴̙̫̙́̔͘ Y̵̡͉͖̽́̐o̴̼͕͊́u̵͓͎͖̓̈́̈́r̴̡̞̓͒͋͜ f̸͓̼̝̔̽͝a̸̢̫̝̓͛͠i̴͖͉͙͑̿t̴̻͇͎̒̈́̕h̸̠͔̪͆͝͝ i̴̢̙͘͠͠s̴̼͕͙̾̓̓ ẅ̸̫̪́́͝a̵̡̻͛͆͝v̵͖̞̽̀͘ë̴̢̘͎́̈́̒r̸̞͍̻͊͒͝i̵̻̞̐̚͠n̸̺͍͖̐̓͠g̸̡̦̘̀͑͘.̸̡͖̻̾͝͝ Y̸̡̝͎͆͘o̴̢͉͉̓̿̾u̴͇͖͓̓̓͘ c̴̼͖̓͐͠ä̵̺̟́͋̐͜n̸͓̼̞͋͌̈́n̴̠̙̐̿͒o̸̙̦̼̾͌͝t̴̙̪̓̾͝ s̸͔̦̔͒̽e̴̞͚̪͑̐͆e̸͔̫̦͑̒͝ t̴̞͖̦͒͊̚h̴͍̘̐͒͝e̵͕̫͍̓̈́̐ r̴͎͓̞͆́͝e̴͍͕̽̾͘͜w̸̟̙͐̔͛á̵̘̼͚͛͐r̸͔͇͎̀̓͝d̵̡͎͙̽̒͘ b̸̼̪̝̽̓̕e̴̟̺͚͋̚͠c̵̡̼̽̒̿à̵̝̼̟͘̕ǘ̵̡͚̘̽̀s̵͚͙͍̽͑̿e̸͓͎̦̿͑͠ y̸̢̪̓́̈́o̴͇̙͛͆̚͜u̴̺͚͖̾͐̽ l̴̪͛̕͜͝á̴̡̢̻̈́̾c̵̢͕͍͐̒̕k̵̙͙̘̔̀͆ r̴̫͖̘̓͋e̴͓̫͖͊͌̀s̸̝̫̻͒̒̀o̵̝̠͐̔͠l̴͙̪̻̿̈́͘v̵̡̦̔͐̾e̴͔͚̼̐̈́̚.̸̢͙̦͑͘͘ Y̴͎͍͉̔̽̚o̸̫̘̘͛͊̓u̵̫͎̘̾͆͠ k̴̡̢̝̽̚͠n̴̝̪̫̈́̿͘o̸͔͉͕͊͋̓w̴͉͎̼̒̚ t̵̟̝̟̿͠͠h̵̘̙̘͆̚͘e̵̝̠͕͊̽̐ r̵̡͙͓͐̀̈́e̸̢͇̻͊̒͠w̴̠̟̙̓͛͝a̵̙̻̟͋̓͘r̴͇͔͋͋͒d̸͓͚̽̕͜͝.̵̪͕̘͒͝ Y̴͓͉̠͊̈́͝ó̸̺͕͓͛̀u̸̟̞͑̿͜͝ w̴̼̘͔͑̓̓i̵͓̠͎͑̓l̵͙̻̪͛̓͝l̸̺̝̘̀͠ ḧ̵͕̟̪́͋̾á̴̫͍̼̽̓v̸̡̼̙͊̈́̈́è̴̪͓͓̒̕ i̵̡̟͙̿̒t̸̘̟͊̈́̿ a̴͚̝͕͐̽̔l̵̙̫̙̓͛̓l̵̞͐͜͠, e̴͎̪͍͊̽̿v̸͓͎͖̐́e̵̢͖̓̈́̽n̸͉͍͔̈́́–̵͎͙̀̈́̒͜"̴͔͇̻̐͌͋

Me. The voice is telling Chris that he can win me, but I don’t understand. There’s a pit in my stomach, like I’ve learned a terrible secret. 

Because I have. 

I feel watched but no one is looking at me. I can’t feel my fingertips. My skin feels like it’s made of static. There’s perspiration on my brow that’s turned to ice. I feel a sharp pain in my chest, and I realize it’s because it feels as though I can’t fucking breathe. My haphazard stance, tiptoeing on the old stepladder, dangerously falters, and I clutch onto the attic door with a pathetic cry. 

Chris looks right at me, gaze snapping in my direction and he looks terrified, pallid and ill and like I’ve caught some small animal running from a bear. 

And I fall

right

back

to

sleep

royal au! bang chan 👑

chan x reader drabble

prince chris having the sweetest smile. and the nicest dick. prince chris making you sweet little drawings. and leaving the deepest hickeys. chris giving you the warmest, most profoundly long cuddles. and the most satisfactory orgasm. chris hand feeding you pancakes out of love. and spilling his content inside your squishy mouth. chris kissing your hands. his hands leaving marks on your soft squishy bits. chris pointing out the many stars in the sky. ruts his hips until he sees stars in your eyes. chris with his hand on your waist and lower back at social gatherings. chris bending you over in your sundress, grabbing your waist for ultimate support in the back rooms. chris watching you walk down the aisle. breeding you when the time is right.

the end.

dealing with the worst case scenario

your condom breaks

you feel a lump on your breast

your friends are ignoring you

you’re stranded on an island 

you got rejected by a crush

you get into a car accident

you got stung by a bee/wasp

you got fired from your job

you’re in an earthquake

your tattoo gets infected

your house is on fire

you’re lost in the woods

you get arrested abroad

you get robbed

your partner cheated on you

you’re on a ship that’s sinking

you fall into ice

you’re stuck in an elevator

you hit a deer with your car

you have food poisoning

your pet passed away

you fall off of a horse

you or your friend has alcohol poisoning

you have toxic shock syndrome

your house has a gas leak