House #D3

☆ house ☆ #D3

"Ah... baby...you don't- fuck- you don't have to-" Chan tries to tell you. It's his instinct to first politely reject any form of kindness from anyone. That's how much of a gentleman he is.

And that includes getting a blowjob from you. Even when he knows very well he deserves more than just his dick in your mouth because he had just told you the surprise he's been keeping from you.

A house. He bought a house. For you. For the both of you.

"I want to," you say, fishing his half hard cock from his neatly pressed black slacks. "Wanna make you feel good. You bought a house. For us. You deserve more than just a blowjob."

Chan gulps at that. Chan loves giving. He's a giver. Be it in or out of bed. He prefers it, really.

But there's just something really hot about you being so determined to make him feel good.

"More?" Chan questions. This is already so much to him. You, so pretty on your knees, hands trying their best to grip onto his toned thighs so that he won't be able to run away.

He could move, really. He's a lot stronger than you. He could easily pull you up and make you sit on his lap, give you a soft lecture on how he doesn't need you to return any favours.

He just loves you. A lot. And he wants to have a place to call home with you. It's as simple as that.

But his brain is a mush. He's never seen you this determined before. So pretty. So fucking beautiful.

"Yes, more. First, we're gonna make you cum in my mouth," you tell him, thumb running over the tip of his cock, making him unintentionally buck his hips up, sensitive at your soft touch.

You giggle at him. So fucking cute.

"Your cock will be super sensitive but still be hard enough. So, I'm gonna fuck myself onto it. This big thing is just so wonderful, isn't it?" you continue, making Chan groan and moan so loud when you lick his cockhead.

"Baby fuck," he breathes, hands automatically threading through your hair in instinct.

You smile at him, loving how he's trying really hard to let you take the lead. You know he loves being the one giving instead of receiving but you really want to show him how much you appreciate him and his whole existence.

"And then we're gonna make you cum again. Inside me. And I'll let you fuck me on every surface of this house. Every single one. Anywhere you want to. We'll start here. On the couch-"

"Bed. Bed. Wanna- wanna fuck you on the bed first."

Chan's face is red. But he can't help it. As pussydrunk as he is, he can't let anywhere else be the first place he gets to fuck you. It has to be the bed. Your first official shared bed.

"Okay, baby. The bed it is. Anything for you. Anything for my wonderful boyfriend. Bought me a house and all, hmm? Gotta give you what you want."

You stand up, slowly letting go of his cock, letting it slap against his abs.

"I'm gonna be such a good girl for you, Channie. Gonna be the perfect wife for you."

Chan nearly chokes at that. Wife. Fuck. Fuck. He wants to marry you so bad. What the fuck are you doing to him?

"Don't tease," he mutters, groaning as he feels more precum oozing from his tip.

"You like it. You like it when I call myself your little wifey. Is that what you told the realtor, baby? That you're buying this house for your wife?"

You can't help it. He's too cute. Oh you would love to marry him when the time is right.

"Wife," Chan breathes, the word rolling from his tongue sounding so natural. "My wife," he says again, head already going dumb just from imagining that future with you.

"I'm here," you say softly, noticing how Chan is a little out of it. It makes you smile. "You'll be a good husband and make me a mommy, right?" you tease him again, knowing it's his ultimate weakness - breeding you.

Chan whimpers. "I can go raw tonight?"

"You can, baby."

"You'll keep my cum inside?"

"I will. Promise."

"Cockwarm?"

"Anything you want."

"Wanna buy you another house."

"Chan!"

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

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.’

[CHAN NSFW AUDIO]

— your possessive boyfriend teaches you a lesson after he sees you getting a little too close to his members

dirty talk, mentions of breeding

It’s me again :D

I had this thought where pretty told Chris to sit on the bed and close his eyes and then she shows him the new lingerie she bought. Like if she got more than one set and told Chris to wait to touch her because there is more… I think he would either be like sure pretty show me or he would just ask her for a kiss before she goes put on the next set but he holds pretty when she is about to pull back from the kiss and tells her that he can’t wait longer to touch her :((

I think it would be funny for pretty when she just walks around in underwear and a oversized shirt of Chris and a pair of black thighs to tease Chris :)

the mental image this gave me was too good not to write a little drabble for it.... so here it is! it might not be exactly as you had imagined, but i think it's good enough ehehhe

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: ~1k | Themes & Warnings: fantasy/supernatural AU · smut · established relationship · oral [M.Rec] · this was barely proof-read please bear with me lol 

minors do not interact.

“Mmm… Yeah. This one’s definitely the prettiest one”.

“Chris”, the pout on your lips made him smile, you just looked so cute. Cute… What a good balance to what you were wearing, a combination that looked nothing short of absolutely delicious to him. “You’ve said that about every single one! That barely helps”.

“Pretty, baby… Look at me. Any set you put on right now will be the prettiest one”, Chris leaned back on his hands, spreading his legs further apart where he sat on the edge of the bed. He wanted you to focus on the movement, he needed you to see the effects your little fashion show had on him.

Earlier, as soon as he’d come out of the shower, without even waiting for him to put anything on, you’d taken a hold of his arm and dragged him to your shared bedroom. Repeating ‘Come, come, come’, finishing with an excited ‘Got something to show you!’

And something to show him you had…

As soon as he had sat down on the bed, you’d asked him to ‘Close your eyes, baby, okay? No peeking!’ and he just giggled and complied. Why wouldn’t he? You sounded just so excited, and he was incredibly weak to your smile, so of course he complied, no questions asked.

Honestly, he’d have to remind you to give him heads-ups for these things, because every time you surprised him with lingerie, he almost fainted with how quickly his insides set on fire. He almost stood up from the bed as soon as he saw you, but he was sure you were just able to see his intentions perfectly in his eyes, which was why you stopped him.

‘Nuh-uh. No touching. I need you to help me decide which one looks best so I can take it with me for our trip this weekend. I just know that if you touch me, I won’t get to show you the other ones’. Chris figured there’d be no harm in humouring you. After all, seeing you try on different garments would be far from a displeasing activity, so he remained seated as you twirled and turned in all sorts of directions so he could see you in every single angle possible.

As usual, Chris underestimated how horny his inner wolf could be–how horny he could be… He should know better by now, but, clearly, he wasn’t thinking with the right head when he agreed to this.

Babydolls… Four of them–each with their matching panties underneath, of course. You’d tried on four different babydolls in the span of twenty minutes, and Chris was honestly close to snapping.

You’d started off strong, with a red set, next came a black one, then a lilac one, and now this one, white. They all had their own distinct shapes and textures, but this last one was the one that looked the most comfortable. With no underwires in the chest area, lacy, pretty much transparent, doing nothing but accentuating all those areas of your body he just wanted to sink his teeth into…

He had reached his limit, and it was more than obvious with the raging hard-on he’d been sporting for what he figured had been probably eighteen minutes. He couldn’t sit still anymore, it was almost like his mind was screaming at him, he just had to openly show you just how aroused he was.

The pout was gone from your lips, it disappeared the moment you focused on his leaking cock resting against his lower abdomen, when your tongue had come out of your mouth to lick your bottom lip. Now he was sure you were close to snapping yourself, it was just clear as day to him in the shift in your scent.

“You look gorgeous in all of them. Take them all, and I promise that if you let me, I’ll fuck you in all of them, on all surfaces of the house”, it was a very serious offer. One that you seemed to be genuinely considering, especially when you started walking towards him, until you stood between his parted legs and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“But it’s extra baggage. We gotta take all the other stuff with us…”

Chris could always trust you to be worried about these things. Of course you’d be worried about your practically weightless babydolls somehow taking enough space that you’d have to sacrifice all the other supplies you were both taking to his house in the woods. As if that could somehow ruin the preparations for the full moon next week…

It honestly made it much worse for him and his will to stay put, because not only did you look finger-licking good in your little outfit, but you were once again showing your commitment to your pack. Both were equally as effective in riling him up.

“Pretty”, Chris brought both hands to your chest to push your breasts together, creating the perfect space for him to bury his face into. He pressed a few kisses on the soft flesh, right before he started mumbling against your skin. “It’ll be fine. Everything will fit just fine. I’d even put these in the car’s glove box, my pockets, anywhere if necessary, as long as I can see you wearing them there”.

His mouth easily found one of your nipples, he teased it with his tongue over the fabric before sucking it into his mouth. It had been almost automatic, when he registered what he was doing he briefly worried he was, as usual, getting carried away.

That worry was very short-lived. One of your hands moved from his shoulder to his head, where you buried your fingers in his hair with a satisfied hum. Meanwhile, his hands found the back of your thighs, so he could gently knead the luscious flesh.

“You want just to see me in them?”

The suggestive lilt in your words made him smile, enough that he let your breast fall out of his mouth so he could smile brightly at you. “Oh, don’t worry, love. I stand by what I said. I’ll fuck you in every single one of them, in ever single room of the house, over every single surface. Multiple times, too. Anything you let me do, and anything you want, I’ll do it”.

You leaned down to finally give him a kiss. He’d been dying to kiss you since you showed him the very first babydoll, but it seemed like you had no plans to let him kiss you as much as he would’ve liked. At least not for now. Instead, you dropped to your knees, right there between his legs, before your hands found his thighs.

Your nails sunk on his skin, and the way you were looking at him, coupled with the almost teasing caresses on his thighs, were bringing him even closer to his snapping point.

Pretty mate… Pretty mate in her pretty gown… Take her. Must take her now…

Chris was trying very hard to ignore his instincts, to keep his logical human side at the forefront of his mind, but it was just so hard when you were looking him right in the eyes, with that look of yours that just made his head spin. It was almost like you knew he was close to his limit, because you finally leaned in further, until your lips found the base of his length, where you pressed a kiss with a hum.

“That doesn’t sound too bad…”

He leaned back on his hands as you kept leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on his skin, until you reached the very tip of his cock and licked the frenulum on the underside. 

As Chris took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as he got hit with the smell of your scent and the feel of your mouth around him, he wasn’t sure if this specific babydoll you were wearing would make it to his house…

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

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