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kisskissbanggang · 1 year

Text

Provocation pt. 3

[9.6k words/30min Read - Lee Know x Female Reader, Bang Chan x Female Reader - Non-Idol!au - NSFW/Smut w/Plot - Voyeurism, Developing Relationships, Multiple Orgasms, Alarmingly Short Refractory Periods, Cunnilingus, Blindfolds, Handjobs, Spit as Lube, Dom/Sub Elements, Creative Approaches to Identity Crises, Jisung Finally Enters the Plot]

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

Despite how nervous you were, this was shaping up to be a gorgeous evening. Not only was the rooftop bar at Magnifique thankfully uncrowded since it was a weeknight, you even scored a table next to a space heater so you didn’t need your coat just yet. Your dining partner was enjoying himself thoroughly, especially with the Old Fashioned and appetizers you treated him to as the sun was beginning to set. This was as nice as the night was going to get, you figured, so it was time to suck it up and do what you came here to do in the first place.

“So,” you began, speaking somewhat confidently into your food, “I was wondering... who’s Chan?”

Jisung choked on his drink, reeling before he forced himself to swallow. You winced and slid your water across the table. He shot you a steely, skeptic glare as he carefully sipped. Your friend firmly set the glass back on the table and composed himself.

“What did Minho tell you?” he suspiciously interrogated.

“Nothing!” you defended. It was true. Minho shut down so hard that you’d never pressed the issue. You wouldn't be asking if it wasn't such a problem now.

“Bullshit!” Jisung laughed incredulously. “Minho never talks about Chan with anyone outside work, not even me, not even Dad, not even his mom.”

“Look,” you guiltily reasoned with Jisung, “I know I haven't been up front about me and Minho–”

“Oh my god,” Jisung groaned with a roll of his eyes. His fingers clumsily slipped off his glasses before pinching the bridge of his nose. But even then, he still seemed like he was about to laugh. “Do you seriously think I don’t know? Do you think anyone doesn't know?!”

Your face heated up immediately. Jisung started giggling into his drink.

“Come on, Ji, I–”

“You don’t think everyone at my last get-together saw you two dorks disappear into the kitchen together?!”

“Jisung!” you whined, “you sent me to get hors d'oeuvres–”

“I had to tell Seungmin you were single! He was convinced you weren’t. I wonder why–”

“Ji! I get it–”

“Maybe I was just blind! I've been to Ikea with you plenty but it never occurred to me–”

“OKAY, JISUNG!” you snapped. “I’m sorry, okay?!”

Jisung perked straight up at attention. Everyone around you was staring. Without even meaning to, you’d slapped your hands down onto the table with your outburst. Jisung was practically on the verge of tears, holding in a laugh until his face was red.

“Fine,” you pathetically grumbled with a wave, “continue. I deserve it.”

“I’m just saying,” Jisung facetiously shrugged. He was failing to hold back a giggle. “Where was my kitchen handy?”

Jisung howled when you kicked him under the table.

“Oh my god, Jisung, GROSS!”

“Now I'm gross!” Jisung sobbed out a hysterical guffaw.

You were both losing it by now, but you managed to stubbornly get argumentative for a second. “Like you were ever available anyway! I ripped off that bandaid a long time ago and you said no, remember?!”

Jisung swiped a tear away and put his glasses back on. “I was so smart to friend-zone you early on.”

“Smart,” you exaggeratedly rolled your eyes. “And all these years you’ve just pretended to not be interested in dating.”

It seemed you’d tripped Jisung up for a moment, judging by the way he paused, seemingly choking before he tried to subtly clear his throat. “I mean… yeah? Obviously. Because I'm not interested in dating.”

You searched for him to meet your gaze again. “Thank you, though. For understanding. I really appreciate it.”

“Hey,” he shrugged more earnestly now, “if someone's going to take care of Minho I'd like it to be someone I trust. Better yet, someone I like. You're perfect.”

“Thank you,” you smugly grinned. “Now! Who the fuck is Chan?”

The air between you got serious again. Jisung shifted uncomfortably in his seat, before leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. He looked like he was about to begin, paused, and ultimately cracked his neck to perhaps soothe his nerves. You patiently, nervously waited.

“... Fine,” Jisung nodded. “Chan's our boss.”

Your gasp was involuntary. “Oh, fuck.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “And he’s even more Minho’s boss than mine. I’m over in Finance, but Chan’s the fucking VP. Minho’s an associate, but you knew that already.”

“Right,” you lied. Associate sounded important, which was probably how Minho could afford his nice apartment.

Jisung held up an eyebrow in doubt of you. “Chan stresses Minho the fuck out. If he brought him up to you, it can’t be good news.”

“It’s not like he’ll even tell me that it’s not good news,” you sighed. “He’ll tell me anything else.”

Your friend shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He was clearly considering something. “Fine. You didn’t hear this from me–”

“What?” you interrupted, stunned. “You’re helping me now?”

“I might as well!” Jisung groused. “He’s been acting so weird for a while. He’s left me on Read for three days and he hasn’t done that since that time he worked 36 hours straight. If you can snap him out of it then it’ll be a weight off my back before our parents catch on. Now do you want my help or not?”

“Yes,” you groveled, grabbing onto his hand with one of yours and calling over a waitress with the other. His glass was empty, after all.

“Okay,” Jisung steeled himself. “Again: you didn’t hear it from me. But you’ll catch Chan in the loft at Good Night. I’ve been asked to come out often enough to know he’s a regular.”

You thought about this amazing nugget of info for a moment. “And has Minho ever tagged along?”

“Has Minho? God, no,” Jisung scoffed. “But like I said, you didn’t hear this from me.”

“Oh, Jisung,” you gratefully exulted, grabbing onto his hand again. “Thank you, seriously–”

“Are you sure you can’t tell me what happened?” he tried again.

You considered this. It wasn’t like you could tell him Minho clearly wanted to fuck their boss.

Right?

“It’s probably just work stuff,” you fudged. “I’ll get to the bottom of it, I promise.”

Jisung seemed satisfied, thankfully. But now you had a new fire lit underneath you.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

It was just your luck that Minho happened to live in roughly the same neighborhood as this mystery nightclub. Considering the distance, it was a reasonable bus ride, but it honestly wouldn't be a terrible walk. Following that logic, it only made sense that you’d grab a cab.

Minho hadn’t even asked you where you were taking him tonight. Apparently, he was simply elated that you'd seemingly dropped the Chan nonsense for the time being.

The club wasn't your vibe by any means, by the way, but it wasn't a dealbreaker. The line to get in was modest, the cover was decent (which made up for it being cash only) and the fog machine wasn't obnoxious. In a move that shouldn't have been so surprising, Minho made a beeline upstairs to the loft.

“Been here before?” you teased over the music.

“No!” Minho laughed. “There's just a bit more light up here.”

This was a great date night barring any ulterior motives. Minho sat beside you in a cozy booth seat at a small table. It took every ounce of your reserved energy to not make it obvious that you were internally squealing when he casually smoothed a hand across to your far shoulder so he could hold you close. Truth be told, you liked whatever it was that you were growing with Minho.

The atmosphere in the loft made it easy to feel like you were still intimate despite the crowded accommodations. Minho talked low in your ear, his lips tickling you just enough to make you giggle like an idiot when you weren't being more careful. If you didn't know any better, though, you'd almost think your unintentional reaction nearly made him blush.

Minho cleared his throat and waved over a thankfully fast server. Soon, you both had a drink to distract you a little. You took a moment and surveyed the loft. Really, any of the gorgeous men chatting up the other patrons could've been Chan.

Any of them, but one in particular, once you caught sight of him.

And you weren't the only one who noticed.

Beside you, Minho coughed into his drink, making you jump. He floundered. He sputtered. Ears fully red now, Minho got up and fled into the chair across from your booth bench. Both hands flat on the table, he leaned forward, his gaze wild.

“You bitch,” he wheezed out with an affronted laugh, “you set me up! You knew he'd be here!”

You blinked innocently. “Who?”

Minho ignored you, and instead rubbed his temples in frustration for a second. “As if I'm stupid! You think I don’t know where he spends his off hours? I’m going to murder Jisung. How else would you find out? Of course this was a set-up, I knew it–”

“Min,” you sweetly interrupted. “If you're saying what I think you're saying, I'll tell you right now that I don’t even know what he looks like.”

Small lie, but harmless. You didn't know, but you had a good idea. Your retort made Minho pause, likely right in the middle of a clever remark. As a result, his mouth momentarily flopped open and shut like a fish. The only thing you could think to do was push his drink back into his hands. Minho clutched the glass and took a healthy swig. Once he was finally satisfied, he firmly set the glass back down, all while eyeing you steadily.

“So,” he carefully treaded, “this isn't a set up?”

“Never said that,” you mischievously grinned.

Minho cocked an eyebrow. “But you don't know what he looks like?”

“No,” you gleefully replied, arms folded indignantly across your chest. “I don't know what Chan looks like–”

You were cut off by Minho flailing. Either it was that you actually said it… Or that you said it just loud enough for your voice to carry.

And right on cue, your suspicion was confirmed.

The young executive with the soft brown waves, coordinated accessories, and likely incredibly expensive shirt that was engrossingly form-fitting in the chest and biceps – the one you’d been betting on when you caught sight of him schmoozing a cute date on the other side of the loft – definitely glanced up and around at the sound of his name. You certainly recognized him now. He’d been blonde when you first caught him looking at you at Minho’s office, but this was unmistakably the same man. Same strong nose, same dimple, same sweet little eyes that lit up when he laughed.

You understood the appeal.

“What’re you so worried about? He’s cute, Min,” you smirked.

Minho currently held a glare that either meant he could kill you or kiss you right at that second. “I'm glad I have your approval,” he grumbled.

“Tell me more,” you prompted him. You reached across the table and held his hand.

Minho paused, looking at your thumb brushing over his knuckles. He finally sighed. “There’s not much to say. We've known each other for a long time. He just… He makes me feel…”

“Like I do?” you gently teased, trying to keep him inside the comfort of your dynamic.

Except Minho met your gaze. “Actually?… Yeah.”

You sat up, a little caught off guard. Well, you figured, it was no wonder Minho felt shaken up by this whole development, starting from the moment he called you hyung in bed.

“But you still feel… Like this? About me? And that’s why you feel weird?”

“Yes,” Minho nodded heartily, “but also, like, it’s weird because I'm… Y'know. Straight.”

You raised your eyebrows curiously. “You sure about that?”

Minho’s shoulders drooped with a sigh. He roughly massaged his temples. “No? It's fucking confusing.”

“Then think about it this way,” you quickly suggested. “You’re straight. But there's currently an exception. One step at a time.”

“Well, it’s not like it even matters,” Minho babbled. “I'm with you!”

You both stopped now. Any discussions about you and your standing with each other was still on a minimal basis. But the butterflies in your gut were clear as day. There was a drawer in Minho’s dresser and bathroom counter with your crap in it. His shirts were in your laundry basket. You squeezed Minho’s hand.

“And I'm with you,” you reassured him. “But what’s wrong with trying? Are we exclusive or anything?”

Minho scoffed at the thought. “Hardly. It’s just, you know… What about you?”

“What if I help?” you thoughtfully suggested.

This was tempting, apparently, with how Minho blinked at you. The smallest sparkle lit up his eye. “You’d help? How?”

“Well,” you pondered, “I'm assuming it’s risky to just pick up your boss.”

Minho’s shaky confidence returned instantly, an exhausted sigh blowing ragged over his lips. “Jesus Christ,” he cursed with a defeated laugh, “imagine the consequences. His career? My career?! What would I even do?!”

You spied Chan on the other side of the loft, currently leaning incredibly close to a stunningly hot girl.

Minho raised an eyebrow when you shifted your drinks aside and ordered a couple waters. “We done already?”

“Of course not,” you retorted, “I just prefer to not drink when I'm scheming.”

“Scheming?” Minho stared at you, half aghast and half intrigued. You nodded in return.

“Come on, Min,” you invited, “tell me more about Chan.”

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

You looked ridiculous. This was now one week since you’d first stepped into the loft at Good Night. Minho dressed you, and from the way he could barely keep his hands off you, you were curious to see what Chan would think. First and foremost, your tits were shoved up under your chin. It wasn’t like you were suffering through a push-up bra or fashion tape situation, but you were surprised to find Minho had picked out an astonishingly nice corset top for you, all cropped and coquettish with ribbon details on the shoulders and everything.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you’d asked him.

“Quit whining,” he scolded. “Do you want him or not?”

Of course, the boobs would only help so much. Along with the gorgeous top that was horrifyingly body-hugging, Minho also supplied you with an elegantly long and chic skirt that sported a devilish slit up the thigh. The skirt perfectly coordinated with an equally cropped blazer that you currently wore draped around your shoulders. You’d never tried this look before, but it was surprisingly not bad.

“What do you think?” Minho had asked when you tried it all on.

“I look like an expensive hooker,” you determined. You kept nervously fussing with the buttons on the blazer.

“Perfect,” Minho chuckled as he fixed a dainty gold chain around your neck. He squeezed your hand away from the jacket buttons. When you batted him off, he swatted your hand instead. “We call that a ‘call girl’, by the way. How do you feel?”

You had thought about this. “I feel hot,” you decided.

“Good. That’s because you are.”

It was still true, days later. In your heels and the other cute accessories Minho picked out for you, you felt like you were unstoppable. (Which, truthfully, only made you feel more like you were really, truly falling for him – the way the accessories and outfit still felt like good matches for you, not the fact that he bought you things… Except maybe that was also there, at least a little.)

You snapped open your clutch purse to grab your cover charge. It’d been Minho’s idea that you also arrive separately. Even though he was only 15 or 20 people back in line, you still couldn't help but feel a little nervous for some reason.

When you couldn't find your cover right away, you pulled the bag closer to get a better look. Instead, you got a faint whiff of the cologne dotted on your wrists.

“You sure?” you’d asked Minho. He’d nodded heartily in return.

“Absolutely. I know what I'm doing.”

It wasn't even his cologne or anything. He simply recalled it as a detail Chan had divulged while tipsy once: cologne always smelled better than perfume. No matter what.

You wondered if Minho ever recalled silly little things you’d said along the same lines.

Finally, you found your cover charge, but not before you heard it.

“You! White skirt!”

The skirt was cream, idiot.

Wait.

That was you.

Holy shit, that was you.

Your head snapped up to attention. Sure enough, the bouncer was waving you forward.

Apparently, you actually looked as good as you felt.

Sneaking a look back at Minho, you recognized his look as burning pride, the way his grin bordered on smug.

The club was even more crowded than your previous trip, making you doubt your plan for just a second, but you remembered what Minho said.

“Don’t sit at the bar. Don’t even spend a minute looking for him. Sit on a lounge bench by yourself and don’t look at your phone. Just people watch for a minute. He’ll find you instead.”

Complete and total nonsense, but you were curious nonetheless. You honestly got in your own head. Whereas there'd been no thought to pushing Minho’s buttons, you didn’t even know Chan aside from what Minho told you.

Although Minho told you quite a lot.

“... And you know what else bothers me? He never lets anyone stay after he leaves the office. He’s always going on and on about how he doesn't want to leave anyone behind and everyone deserving free time. Does he even know how much overtime everyone pulls on days he’s not in the office to make up for it?”

Did Minho bitch about you like that? You hoped so. The idea of him griping at Jisung over how he was annoyed with every little thing you did was miserably adorable.

Getting lost in your thoughts for a minute helped pass time tremendously, as it turned out, but now you were worried that you hadn't caught sight of Minho yet. Even though he mentioned wanting to lurk in the background, it made you nervous to feel like you were on your own.

Even though you sort of were.

Was Chan even going to show? Minho had texted you when he overheard Chan talking about his plans for the night, but that never meant it was a confirmation. He easily could've–

“You’re here all alone?”

A distractingly forward voice cut through the noise and your internal distress.

Chan?

Turning to face the greeting, you were almost startled to find – sure enough – Chan sitting beside you on the lounge bench.

Why did you ever doubt Minho?

Chan was wearing a suit today, a casual number without a tie and his shirt dangerously three-quarters buttoned under his open jacket. He was brazenly sitting facing you, his knee nonchalantly nudged up on the bench and his arm slung across the back without touching you. You rapidly composed yourself.

“Excuse me?” you asked, seemingly nonplussed.

Chan blinked in response before visibly resetting himself.

“Be present, but not invested, not right away,” Minho had advised you before heading out here for the night. “Make him work for it.”

Here, Chan rolled his shoulders back and put his grin back on. “I asked if you’re here all alone.”

“I'm not,” you politely answered with a short shake of your head.

Chan automatically nodded in cordial understanding. “Fair enough. Apologies for interrupting you–”

He stared at your hand on his sleeve, stopping him from getting up.

“Is that usual?” you'd questioned Minho earlier tonight. “Making him work for it?”

And Minho had only grinned. “Not at all.”

Chan curiously held your gaze.

“I said I'm not here alone; I didn't say I wanted you to leave.”

He warily glanced around the loft. “What if I'm not into cheating?”

“Neither am I,” you shrugged innocently.

More intrigued than perturbed now, Chan eased back down onto the lounge bench. “So I take it that your companion is pretty private then?”

You cracked a sly grin. “Let’s say he has reason to not show himself.”

“Then you’re suggesting I know him? I know everybody,” Chan eagerly pressed on.

“Never said that. But I never said you don’t, either. He did say you're the curious type, though. Are you?” you teased.

Minho had warned you that Chan looked good when he blushed, but he didn’t tell you how easy it was to get him to do it.

But it wasn't just that. When you were first planning all of this together, you’d made sure to ask Minho. It was important to know, after all.

“Tell me what you want out of this, at least for the first round if that’s all we’ll get.”

Minho had considered it carefully, and you loved every second of his answer.

Currently, Chan looked on in abject anticipation.

“And maybe,” you resumed, “he thinks you like to show off. Maybe he wants to watch and know he got to see you with me, without you ever knowing who he is.”

You stalled before he could say anything, grabbing a hearty sip of your drink to gather some fortitude.

It seemed you weren't the only one in need of some renewed confidence either. Chan blinked at you again and swallowed down a tough breath, processing this.

“Not interested? I’m sorry to take up your time,” you politely apologized before moving to get up.

However, just like Minho predicted, it was Chan’s turn to put his hand on your sleeve.

“He wants to watch?” he carefully repeated.

“This time, at least,” you winked, aloof.

Chan’s ears burned bright coral.

You leaned into his hand on your arm. Even in the low lighting of the loft, nothing obscured his distracted gaze trailing down your throat to your chest.

“Everything okay?” you patiently implored.

Chan nodded dumbly. “I'm not used to being caught off guard, that’s all.”

A smirk tugged at your lip. “You’ll have plenty of time to get adjusted. Anyway, I’m sure you're a real quick learner.”

The gleam in Chan’s eye was woefully endearing. You were never much for “Labrador boyfriend” energy, but Chan reminded you more of a bouncy Rottweiler.

What would this guy look like in one of those handsome collars? Like, not even a lined, leather one, but just a chain pinch collar–

“–if your man doesn’t mind.”

Oh shit.

You were getting distracted. Chan had just finished saying something attractive, judging by his cocksure smolder. You leaned into your distraction, cocking your head curiously. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized, “what did you say? I was already imagining what’s coming next.”

Chan, gawped, floundering again. “I, er, was just saying I'd love to show you a good time, if your man doesn't mind.”

“Oh, Chan,” you cooed, “of course he doesn’t mind. He wants this, remember?”

Now he was just ogling you. Did you say something wrong?

“How did– who– so you do know my name?”

Fuck.

Your pause betrayed how much you were scrambling to stay cool. The most devious grin spread across Chan’s face before he scooted forward. Now you were hip to hip on the bench. You backed up an inch in surprise but Chan only leaned in, gaze hungry. “I was right,” he eagerly implored. “If you don’t know me, your guy definitely does. Who are you?”

“Chan,” you repeated, regaining composure as you did so and sitting up into his space, “of course I know you. I know lots of things.”

He devilishly met you in the middle, your lips a few inches from his now. “I bet you do,” he murmured. He was staring at your mouth, eyes half-lidded. “What else do you know?”

You called his bluff, pushing forward another inch until he pulled back, just barely. “I know,” you paused for dramatic effect, “that you want to get me in a taxi right now and do whatever it takes to find out everything I know.”

The bit about the cab was explicitly supplied by Minho.

“If there’s anything the idiot loves more than his job, his flat, or getting laid, it’s the Rover. He’ll turn himself inside out to give you a ride, especially if he thinks you're not expecting it.”

And damn it all if he wasn't right again, because Chan looked like he could eat you alive right then. Did Minho know everything about you, too?

“Come on,” Chan urged you as he got up. Despite his neediness, his hold on your hand was incredibly gentle, a smooth little motion of scooping up your fingers in his. “You tell me where and we’ll go. You into cars? I have–”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down champ,” you giggled, not letting go of his hand but using your other to play with the buttons on his suit jacket. “You’re just gonna take me? Wherever? Even his place?”

“I don't give a shit if you want to go to Brazil, if I’m being honest,” laughed Chan, “I’d book us a flight right this second. But if it’s about safety, that’s fine, I'll gladly take a cab.”

Minho did make it clear that although Chan was a jackass, he was not a creep. And, unsurprisingly, he was right again. Chan’s eyes followed as your hand lifted to cup his face. His chin was ridiculously smooth. God, he even knew how to shave. Minho had good taste.

“Come on, then,” you nodded towards the stairs, “show me your nice car.”

As it turned out, Chan's car was every bit as dumb as Minho told you it was, but you found yourself fond of how proud he was of the thing. It was nice, sure, but you were more interested in how spotless he kept it. When he opened the door for you, the Rover smelled almost brand new, like it’d just been detailed.

Driving with Chan was a whole other story. Thank god Minho lived close, because your mind was racing. One hand on the wheel, Chan’s other hand possessively held your knee. He’d asked, of course, if it was okay, and here you were, lost in thought as you watched his thumb brush little circles on your kneecap. He hadn’t been able to access your bare skin immediately, though. His pinky edged under the hem on the slit of your skirt so he could smooth the fabric out of his way. You liked his approach; it was forward without being overbearing, a neat little acceleration of how much you'd been firing each other up in the club.

The conversation was still mostly focused on him, at your insistence. He asked what you did for work, but all you told him was it was a boring little job. Nothing like his job, by the look of it.

“Eh,” Chan dismissed, “it’s a career. It’s second nature by now.”

He did keep trying, though, and when you wouldn't give up, he tried prying more info about Minho out of you. In fact, Minho warned you about this. He said Chan liked to tout having a silver tongue with clients, but your boyfriend preferred to say Chan simply talked so much that his clients would do anything to shut him up.

Wait.

Boyfriend?

Minho was your boyfriend, right?

It felt good to say it, at least in your head.

“Have you done this before?” Chan prodded. “Picking up guys together?”

You tried to get back in the game mentally. “Would it make you feel more special if we haven't?”

Chan’s face was pink again.

“Cute,” you teased, lifting a hand to ease your fingers back through his hair. You weren't surprised to find your hand didn't come back with hair product residue.

It should be said, you reminded yourself, that all these little revelations weren’t too different from similar ones you’d had about Minho in recent months. He was also astoundingly put together. It just made sense, you supposed, that Chan seemed to fit the same kind of image.

There was one spare parking spot for Minho’s building, but you already knew that. Minho had confirmed the week before that one of his neighbors was out of town. You were just about to open the passenger side door of the Rover when your phone buzzed.

>>STALL FOR ONE SECOND I got held up by coat check and only managed to leave a minute before you.

“Everything alright?” Chan asked, getting your attention back. The concern in his face told you that you may have been internally screaming at your phone.

“No, yeah, everything’s fine,” you reassured him before opening the door. Chan dutifully jumped out after you and jogged around to your side, offering you a hand. You looked at him, almost eye to eye in your heels. “I do want to know, though, for my own purposes…”

This wasn't part of the script, but you needed to stall, apparently.

And you were curious.

Chan looked on intently.

“I guess what I'm wanting to know,” you carefully continued, “was what brought you out here. The prospect… Or me?”

Chan’s gaze softened, matching his grin. His hand gently held you at the elbow. “It’s definitely a proposition I've never gotten before…But I also haven't met many women like you. Your guy’s pretty damn lucky.”

Okay, maybe you were getting more on board with Minho’s praise of the guy.

You paused, though, when Chan leaned in, his lips almost on yours when you stopped him. “Sorry, handsome,” you apologetically giggled, “you gotta save it.”

“No, what?” Chan whined, but he backed up immediately. “Don’t make me wait–”

“Don’t worry,” you laughed, taking his hand and leading him to the elevator, “you don’t have to wait long.”

As expected, Chan’s eyes were everywhere, even in the elevator, looking for any hint of who you were with, so you got his attention back again. His brows jumped when you easily wrapped your arms around his strong neck, herding him against the back wall of the elevator. He tested the waters a little, getting a hand around your waist before you swiftly swatted him off.

“What, you’re not gonna be good for me?” he cooly smirked, teasingly trying again before you roughly grabbed onto his hand. His eyes widened, looking caught. You kept your composure despite retaining your sharp grip on his hand.

“One thing you’re going to learn very quickly,” you smiled sweetly for him, “is if anyone wants me to be good for them, they have to earn it.”

Minho earned it. Who knew if Chan ever would.

“Of course,” Chan nodded attentively.

You combed your fingers through his hair again, liking how he seemed to enjoy it. “Do you want to be good for me?”

Chan raised an eyebrow. You leaned away a little.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I’ve just, er… I've never had anyone ask before.”

Hilarious. Of course. You should’ve known–

“– But I'd love to try.”

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow back at him. Your fingers still in his hair, you tried a tentative tug, only craning his head back an inch or so. His fingers squeezed your waist appreciatively in return. “You think you want to say sorry for getting overly eager with me a second ago?”

Chan scoffed. “What, when I got a little too fresh with you? Yeah it turned out to be too much but–”

“But you can just say sorry like I asked,” you chided him, your voice syrupy sweet while you tugged his hair more sharply.

His hissed inhale was cute. “Yes, baby,” he gritted out, “I’m sorry.”

“I like the way you say baby,” you cooed. “Was that okay?”

“Yeah,” Chan nodded, halfway dazed, “yeah, that was definitely okay”

“Plenty more where that came from,” you assured him, cupping his cheek.

How long had the elevator been stationary at Minho’s floor?

Well, you’d definitely stalled a little.

You took Chan’s hand and led him down the hall to Minho’s flat. A deep breath stagnated in your lungs. There was really no going back from this.

Then again, there was really no going back from the moment you let Chan sit next to you at the club.

No, you reminded yourself. You wanted this. And the fact that Minho wanted this, too, was even better. You really felt unstoppable like this.

The doorknob gave way easily when you turned it, Minho making sure there’d be little to no barrier when you arrived. Chan followed close behind, still holding your hand. Like you planned, the flat was fairly dark, only some candles and dim lamps lighting the living room. You stopped in front of the chaise on the wall opposite Minho’s bedroom. Chan’s eyes were still wandering, trying to glean any hints to Minho’s identity in the decor. Thankfully, you’d thought to stow all his photos for the night, and the dark room meant it was difficult to tell if an innocuous item like a vase was sentimental or purely decorative.

You gently but pointedly pulled down on Chan’s hand so he'd sit beside you on the lounge. He was still ridiculously distracted. You cupped his face so he would look at you.

“Weren't you waiting for something?” you patiently asked.

Chan’s pout was going to kill you.

“Waiting–? Oh, I mean, yeah–”

“Then close your eyes and put this on, handsome.”

You held up a necktie, magically producing it from its hiding place in the couch and Chan wavered momentarily before he closed his eyes. He leaned forward, letting you knot the necktie into a blindfold, but not without Chan markedly pausing. His nose pointed towards the tie. You wondered if Chan recognized Minho’s cologne. Maybe it was simply familiar, but the idea that the scent jogged his memory made you ache in your growing desire.

It was cute to imagine Chan hadn't done this in years, following someone else’s lead… If not ever. He didn't really strike you as the type. Your reading led you to believe Chan was always calling the shots.

The tinkling of a whiskey rock in a lowball glass signaled you to Minho’s presence, and you weren't the only one. Despite the blindfold, Chan clearly perked up at the noise. Minho leaned against the doorway of his bedroom, taking a sip from his drink while he watched you both. His shirt was opened by a couple buttons, and he'd abandoned his jacket so he could roll up his cuffs. Knowing him, this wasn't his first drink since he got home, and he was already warm. He shared a sweet, proud smile with you.

“He wants you to kiss me,” you told Chan, stroking your fingers through his hair again.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asked in return.

Minho shook his head into his drink. You already loved how much Chan pushed all his buttons without even meaning to.

“Of course I do, sweetie,” you laughed. “Now quit making me wait.”

Chan nodded, his own hand searching out your cheek and pulling you close. His breath was hot against your lips, a single moment of hesitance before he kissed you. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the poignant rise and fall of Minho’s deep inhale swelling his chest. He moved to sit down in his favorite chair in front of his bookcase.

Meanwhile, that first kiss was the only barrier Chan needed to pass, from what you could tell. Instantly, he was right back to his previous boldness, pulling you close and exploring your mouth with his tongue. This was already a delicious change of pace. Whereas Minho liked to push and pull with you, Chan was plain hungry. Every inch you gave him became a mile. You started running down the list of things you and Minho agreed on, all the things you wanted to do and he wanted to see. The moment you led Chan’s hand to your knee, he immediately grabbed your leg and pulled you over so you were sitting on his lap, his tongue still in your throat and ravenously trying to get more and more of you. Barely a second had passed before his hands were already moving from your waist to your hips to the curve of your ass. Your skirt strained where your knees were parted to straddle him and instead you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, reeling him in while you leaned back to recline on the couch. Chan followed, blind and dutiful, and swallowed a breath when he felt you lead his hands to the zip of your skirt. He paused then, a hand on your hip waiting for any positive signal until you writhed up into his palm. You hummed contentedly while he slowly pulled the zip down, raising your hips to allow him to shimmy the garment down and off of you. This left you in your heels, your sheer panties, and the flirty corset top.

Across the room, Minho methodically swirled his glass in one hand while he watched, his other strategically resting on the visible bulge in his slacks.

Chan was surprised when you stopped him, his hands paused by your own. You led him to sit up beside you again, and then stand. First you slipped off your blazer, carelessly dropping it to the floor. He turned his head slightly, following the sound of your heels on the hardwood when you stepped behind him. His broad shoulders tensed when you ran your hands over them. You slipped off his suit jacket, folding it and dropping it on the coffee table. Next was the shirt, easy work with most of the buttons already undone. You simply unclipped his expensive cufflinks, dropped them into his shirt pocket, and this joined the jacket on the table as well. Not too long ago, you nearly lost Minho’s favorite cufflinks in this very room after being too rushed. You peeked over Chan’s shoulder to catch Minho absolutely devouring your date for the night with his eyes. Right now his gaze was firmly locked on Chan’s cut form, his defined pecs and rippling abs. You couldn't blame him. Chan shivered when you reached around his middle to get a teasing feel of his abdomen. You leaned your lips up to Chan’s ear from behind, all the while your hands now sank down to the zip of his suit pants.

“Okay, baby,” you smiled, “tell us why we brought you home.”

Chan sucked in a breath at the sound and feel of you slowly pulling down his zipper. “Because you want me?” he answered, surprisingly on the brink of timid.

“Right,” you nodded. “And why do we want you?”

Chan's ears were pink again. You brazenly ran a hand down to get a quick squeeze of him. He shivered, curling in on himself with his inhale.

“Because, heh – mmh – I'm hot?” he tentatively asked, trying to keep that cocky edge intact.

“Very hot,” you praised. Meanwhile, Chan surreptitiously stepped out of his shoes, but froze when you actually opened and dropped his slacks. He was down to his stupidly expensive boxer briefs. His hand covered yours.

“W-wait,” he stopped you. “I didn't get a chance to say yet, but… I can blow my shot real fucking easy if I'm not careful.”

Minho arched a curious eyebrow.

You placed a comforting kiss on the nape of Chan’s neck. “Oh, baby,” you soothed, “you say that like it's a bad thing.”

“No, not at all,” he flustered, “I just, I mean – what I'm trying to say is – there's usually a whole process to this.”

“You have a routine?” you teased. Minho watched you sink back down onto the lounge.

If your ears didn't lie, Chan almost whined. “When you put it like that–”

“Underwear off,” you pleasantly demanded.

The swirling of Minho’s ice in his glass sped up when Chan complied.

Guy was built. Cute back dimples and everything. Needed some work in his legs, but who didn’t?

You spread your knees, patting the upholstery between them. “Come here. Sit back down, baby.”

Chan carefully lowered himself between your legs. You lifted your heels, hooking them inside his knees from behind to spread him open.

Minho watched intently the first time you touched Chan’s bare cock. It wasn’t thick, it wasn’t long, but it did feel just as handsome as the rest of him. And if Chan was pink, then the head was almost red, you mused. You wistfully imagined Minho was wishing it was his own hand on it. Chan choked out a groan, almost like he’d been holding his breath, and immediately relaxed into your chest. He was fully exposed for your boyfriend, getting his dick stroked while he moaned and sighed.

“Tell me what the whole process is,” you directed towards his ear. “Tell me why else we brought you home.

“I go down,” he immediately answered. “I always get them there first, feels so fucking good and helps me last longer.”

Minho almost sat up straighter and you knew why. Despite having both taken turns going down, plenty of times, neither of you could really say it was your favorite activity.

You put your open palm under Chan’s full lips. “Spit, handsome.”

Chan didn't hesitate, immediately letting a good drip of saliva drop into your hand. He threw his head back when you reapplied your newly lubed hand to his strained erection.

“And then what,” you asked him, “you get to be hot and attentive and then what.”

“Hmn, oh shit,” he cursed when you sped up, “then I get mine.”

“Yeah?” you smiled. “That’s it? They get theirs and then you get yours? Let’s see what that looks like.”

Chan nervously giggled. “Never said the process was complex, it just– oh fuck,” he croaked, his breath shaking while you fisted his leaking cock. Just like that, Chan dropped his head back onto your shoulder while he came. The way you held his length aimed it low on his belly.

From the magical hiding spot in the chaise came one of Minho’s pocket squares. You mused for a moment if these also smelled like your boyfriend while you cleaned Chan up enough to keep going. One last swipe left a bead of cum on your forefinger. You lifted this up to Chan’s lips, only for him to automatically poke his tongue out and hungrily taste it.

“Oh, I knew it,” you gushed. “I didn’t even have to ask.”

Chan was simply rosy and catching his breath when you wrapped your fingers into his perfect hair. He turned his attention to you. “Now what, baby, tell me what's next.”

You led him down to kneel in front of the chaise. “You like to go down? I wanna see.”

Minho had already freed himself from his slacks and was lazily palming himself, licking the whiskey off his lips while he watched Chan blindly feel for your knees so he could work his way up to the waistband of your scant panties. His fingers were careful with the delicate fabric. Properly bared for him, he spread you nice and wide on the chaise before slinging your legs over his shoulders. First, Chan kissed and nipped at your abdomen, leaving a couple little love bites on his way down between your thighs. He breathed you in before taking one sampling taste of you. You both shivered at the first feel of his tongue on your wet clit.

When you noticed Chan’s pause, you sat up. Minho looked on expectantly. Chan was waiting.

“More,” you urged him.

Chan dove into you then, licking and tasting every inch of your hot pussy that he could reach. He felt out all of your favorite little spots, too. Your back arched, your breath hitching in your throat when he pressed into you with his tongue. You stopped him now. If he kept this up you’d be a goner. You threaded your fingers into his hair and yanked him back, loving how he groaned for you. He caught his breath, waiting for you to give him the next direction when he felt your hand on his half-hard cock, this time with Minho’s pocket square wrapping around him.

“Think you can cum again while you’re down there?” you challenged him.

Chan paused, pouty lips shiny wet with you. “You want me to?”

You cracked a smug grin. “I want you to go until you hit empty.”

You could’ve sworn he blushed at that, too. It felt like half the words out of your mouth were nothing he’d ever heard before. Minho nodded in agreement behind him.

“Yes, baby,” Chan dutifully answered, taking over from your grip on his quickly regrowing erection before diving back into you, herding you back onto the chaise so he could lick you again.

You were coming apart under Chan’s tongue. Minho was amazing at it but something about Chan told you that, apparently, someone could really love eating pussy. He held onto your hips and thighs, grinding his moaning breath into you while he jerked himself off. Within minutes, he shivered as he came again. You shot up to support yourself on your straightened arms.

“Did you just–?”

“You told me to,” Chan panted, as if it were obvious. He lifted the blindfold to gaze up at you. His flushed cheeks and chest were adorably shiny with perspiration by now.

You and Minho glanced at each other, doe eyed.

“And can you… go again?” you tentatively asked.

He nodded emphatically. “Yeah, baby.”

“Oh my god,” you marveled. You gently grabbed him by the chin and led him back to your heat.

Chan got right back into it, licking you while clearly giving his cock a moment to rest before you could feel him gently stroking it again.

Good Christ, you groaned internally, could you imagine edging him?

The thought alone was getting you to your peak even faster than before.

And it was like Chan knew.

“Baby,” he pleaded into your pussy, “tell me I can touch you.”

You felt the fingertips of his free hand tease your hot entrance. He rode the line without ever crossing it.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I wanna feel it.”

For a moment, you were worried you’d be thrown off by the change of pace, but Chan was surprisingly astute with how he approached it. His fingertips slowly, slowly rocked into you, in pace with the grinding of his tongue. The stretch was almost too natural, and before you knew it, he was pumping his fingers right into your spot. You let out a breathy whine at how pliant yet attentive Chan was being. When he clearly hit the right rhythm, he never let up. Before too long, your peak was right there. With the blindfold still lifted up, his eyes were locked on you in determination.

Your fingers were in his hair again, getting his attention. “Baby,” you urgently sighed, “you’re gonna make me–!”

You threw your head back into the chaise with the force of your orgasm, your thighs spasming and clenching onto Chan while he moaned into you. He licked you up until you pushed him off, fighting for breath, gripping onto the cushions of the lounge.

“Holy shit,” you breathed, dazed.

“Good, right?” Chan eagerly asked, still panting.

“Yeah,” you nodded, a little more lucidly. “Did you–”

“No,” Chan almost whimpered. “I haven't gone this many times in years.”

“But you still can?” you verified.

“I need to,” he insisted.

“Good,” you smirked, slipping his blindfold back down and dipping your thumb in between his lips. He automatically began sucking on it, until you curled your fingers around his jaw and pulled, hauling him up onto the lounge beside you.

Chan gasped and whined when you immediately threw a leg over his lap and straddled him. You dragged a fingernail down his toned chest.

“What now?” he asked, hushed anticipation filling his voice.

Minho was teasing his fingertips over the dripping head of his erection.

You seated yourself right on Chan’s hardness, enveloping him in your soft heat and getting a broken groan out of him. “We’re just finishing this one off, baby,” you assured him.

“How’re you–oh Jesus Christ–”

Chan clawed into the chaise when you pulled all the way off of him. You sank him inside again, repeating the motion, taking him all the way to the hilt and then lifting completely off of him.

“You love getting fucked, don’t you, baby,” you mewled.

This poor man was quivering under you. “Yes – fuck – god, yes, baby, I do,” he babbled.

You slid your hot pussy onto his cock and right back off again. Just for the added torture, you reached up and tweaked his nipples. Chan let out a garbled curse.

“Oh,” you simpered while you maintained the same arduous cycle, “what a perfect slut. So good for me.”

Chan whimpered again. “Baby, baby,” he panted, “I can’t, I have to–”

“Not yet,” you scolded him, pinching his nipple again. “Tell him how good it is.”

“Him–?” Chan asked, almost too dazed to understand at first. You looked behind you. Minho was panting, groaning while he touched himself.

“Him,” you repeated. “My boyfriend wants to know how good it is. Tell him I'm gonna make you cum.”

“Fuck, she’s so good,” Chan immediately commended, “her pussy’s fucking perfect, she’s gonna make me fucking bust–”

“Do it, then,” you instructed. “Fucking bust, slut.”

“God damn,” Chan hissed, “yes, baby, whatever you want–”

He shut up again when you hesitated for a moment. You'd still been keeping up the same torturous cycle of never properly riding him, only teasing his whole length inside you before pulling off. This time, you paused for a second before taking him back inside. This, apparently, was nearly all he needed. Chan writhed under you, needy and desperate, until you rode him properly, grinding him upwards inside your heat. He was fully moaning out loud now, not stopping until his breathing hitched.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, “I’m gonna, I’m gonna–”

When you pulled off of him again at the last second, you could've sworn he almost sobbed, bucking his orgasming cock into nothing and coating his stomach in his cum again.

The incredible thing was, however, Chan was still hard. Even when you let him catch his breath for a good minute.

“You bitch,” Chan wheezed out a laugh while you cleaned him up.

“Was it that bad?” you pretended to pout.

He shook his head. “No, it was weird. Interesting might be a better word for it, but that was a weird fucking orgasm.”

“Want a better one?” you propositioned.

Chan lifted his head off the chaise to look at you, humorous with the blindfold still on. “Wait. Seriously?”

You glanced behind you. Even Minho seemed surprised, but his sly grin communicated a persistent pride.

Minho knew you loved impressing him.

“Yeah,” you insisted, letting him feel you climb off of him so you could melt down beside him onto the lounge. “I wanna wring you dry. Come here and fuck me properly.”

“Oh hell yeah,” Chan blurted. He instantly scrambled off the chaise and fell back onto his knees on the floor.

“Now?” you stalled, suddenly bashful from his eagerness.

Chan yanked the blindfold down now that he wasn’t facing Minho’s direction and roughly grabbed his cock. “Look at me,” he goaded you, crazed, “I'm ready to go. Let me fuck you properly.”

You nodded dumbly, a bit gobsmacked by how he retained this edge to him even when he was bordering on submissive. Chan scooped a hand under you to sit you up. His other spread your knees and scooted your ass to the edge of the chaise.

“Please kiss me again, baby,” he gruffly pleaded.

You grabbed onto the makeshift blindfold, now a makeshift leash. Chan grunted when you pulled him closer together. “You want it?” you asked sweetly.

“I need it,” Chan clarified. “Please, baby, please kiss me.”

You nodded, closing your eyes while you reeled him in, the meeting of your lips coinciding with him sliding into you again. He groaned hot and urgent into your mouth, and already his hands were all over you. Chan fucked you firm but not too rough. He doubled the thrust by pulling you onto his sensitive cock at the same time, his fingers clutching your ass while he sloppily nipped and kissed your neck.

“Is your boyfriend getting off on this?” Chan asked sweetly into your ear.

Over his shoulder, you could see Minho spit into his own palm to lube up his erection, his head lolling back into the easy chair while he touched himself.

“Yeah baby,” you nodded, already fucked dumb yourself.

“And you?” he teased. “You like your boyfriend watching you get fucked?”

“Yeah,” you whined desperately, thrusting back.

“Who’s really the little slut– oh fuck–” Chan cursed roughly as you tugged hard on the necktie wrapped around his throat. Your back arched, getting a sordid moan out of both of you when this created more of a grinding angle in your hips.

“No question about it,” you breathlessly taunted, “only a little slut can go three times.”

“If you keep that up,” Chan whimpered, “it’s gonna be four.”

“Fuck,” you whined pathetically, “Channie, you're hitting my spot–”

“Channie?” he repeated, nosing his lips up to your ear. God he was insatiable. “Oh, I like that. You like Channie pounding into your g-spot, baby?”

“God, you're annoying,” you cutely ribbed him. “Make me cum, Channie.”

“Give it to me,” he pleaded. “You gotta tell me so I can pull out and finish–”

“Pull out?” you questioned.

Chan raised his eyebrows at you. “You don’t want me to?”

“I said,” you repeated with a measured amount of menace, “I want to wring you dry.”

It was Chan's turn to look a bit gobsmacked. That multiplied when you wrapped your legs around him, hooking your ankles behind his back. You were getting that headrush back. He craned his neck when you pulled at the necktie again. “You’re going to make me cum, Channie,” you explained, “and when I do, you're going to fill me up.”

“Yes, baby,” he desperately nodded. He was still grinding into you. “Just like this?”

You nodded, stealing a kiss from him. “Yeah, Channie, I love it. You want me to cum all over your cock?”

“Please,” he growled into your mouth, “come on baby, let me cum inside your perfect pussy.”

Your goddamn vision was going hazy from how fast Chan was getting you there. Everything went so fast when you hit your peak. Your nails raked into Chan’s biceps when you finally unraveled, your cries and moans indecipherable from his own when your hearing dropped out momentarily. He hit his high right after you, clutching you tight against him while his hips stuttered with the force of his orgasm. Minho's empty whiskey glass hit the floor while he tried to stifle his curses, biting into his knuckles while he sprayed right onto the hardwood. Thankfully, the glass didn't shatter, only traveling a handful of inches to the floor.

There was only gasps and sighs for air in the ensuing silence. Minho caught his breath for a moment before he would make his planned return to his bedroom. You collapsed back onto the chaise, stroking Chan's hair where he’d crumpled on top of you. He was hugging you tight around the middle.

“That was amazing,” you appreciated, punctuating this with a kiss to the crown of his head.

“The feeling is mutual,” Chan chuckled. He kissed you beside your navel when he straightened back up. “Can’t say I saw this coming when I went out tonight.”

There was a shy quiet while Chan plucked his shirt up off the table behind him. It was almost romantic, the way he was still inside you.

“So do I get to meet this mystery man?” he asked casually, fishing his cufflinks out of his shirt pocket.

“He’ll prefer to keep his privacy,” you smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure you understand.”

Behind him, Minho finally arose from his chair, picking up his glass and ready to head back to the bedroom.

“Sure,” Chan nodded. “So do you think he’d mind a date, then? Just me and you?”

You stared, mouth agape. Minho paused too. His hand was tight around the glass.

“You’re joking, right?” you carefully laughed.

“No!” Chan laughed back. Was he serious or was he trying to get his way and see Minho? “I’m sure he won't mind,” he continued. “We already fucked. I already made you cum. Twice, may I add. I'm sure he’d understand if I want to see you again.”

“Careful, Channie,” you tried to playfully warn him.

“What,” Chan teased back, taking his sweet time easing out of you. “Maybe he’d like it. He already like watching us fuck in his apartment. Maybe he'd like sharing you–”

“Don’t be dumb, handsome,” you warned him again. Minho fully faced away from the bedroom now. “How do you know it’s not my apartment?”

“It’s clearly not your apartment,” Chan persisted. “But I can show you mine if you show me yours–fuck!”

You’d wondered how long Minho would last, and the answer was not very long at all. He marched right over, kicking a foot up under Chan’s arm to punt him onto the floor. Chan cursed and sat up, quickly grabbing his trousers to cover himself and discover Minho standing over him.

The two men stared at each other, Minho’s glare meeting Chan’s wide-eyed panic.

Instead of backing down, though, Minho did what he was best at. He squared his shoulders back, unyielding.

“I tried telling her, hyung, sometimes you refuse to shut the fuck up.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #lee know smut #OOOOH I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE HOPE YOU ENJOY #bang chan breakdown #bang chan #lee know #lee minho

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dj-bynum3718 · 1 year

Text

Of Fire and Ice - Chapter 11

Melissa Schemmenti X reader X Larissa Weemes

Summary: self doubt clouds your judgment and you can’t stand it.

Words: 1097

Notes: I’m so sorry for disappearing thank you to the people who are still interested in this… ❤️

Warnings: angst….

What are you doing… you are being an idiot. You look around at the dark gymnasium, empty except for you wrapped in the sheet from the bed that you grabbed in your haste to get out of there. The voices of self doubt finally too loud you had to escape.

You don’t know how you ended up here. One minute you are buried between Larissa’s legs the next you are having a panic attack.

“Trouble in paradise?” You whip your head around clenching the sheet tighter around yourself. “I-I….” “You know the last time I found you here like this you had just stole Larissa away from us.” You watch as Morticia shoos Gomez away a silent conversation had between the 2.

“I didn’t steal her away she broke up

With y’all and came to me” she comes and sits next to you on the bleachers. “Why are you here (y/n)?” “You wouldn’t understand Tish.” “Oh yeah? Try me because it looks to me as though you are running away from your feelings and being an idiot.” She pulls at your sheet. “They are worried for you…”

Your head snaps up as you look at her. “How would you know that?” “We have the room next to yours” she grimaced “gotta be honest we always thought you were the dominant.” You make a face. “Sorry didn’t realize we were that loud.” She shrugs “so why are you being an idiot?”

You look at her your high school rival now realizing she was probably your best friend in school. The one who talked you off ledges of chaos and self destruction. “Tish…. They aren’t actually my girlfriends… Me and Larissa broke up 6 years ago and Melissa and I are coworkers at a school in Philadelphia… I don’t know what the hell I’m doing! Or how to deal with the fact that I’m in love with the both of them!” She nods as you stand adjusting the sheet around you. Now pacing back and forth in front of her ranting. “Gods Tish what if they don’t like me?! I’m not good enough they deserve better than me! They deserve each other, both stunningly beautiful, incredibly smart you know?” You look up making sure she is listening she just nods along.

You aren’t good enough! You did the right thing in running this way the only life you are ruining is your own. You can start over you can do it you did it before it’s not that hard. Who are you fooling of course it’s hard. Your feeling are to consuming fully convinced that you will die if you run again. But it will be better for them they deserve better. Your mind is eating away at your own sanity making you act foolish and you are self aware but to far him to do anything about it.

“You know it would probably settle your mind if you just spoke to them.” You snap your head up giving her a look. “Right,right that’s too simple for you and you want to feel bad for yourself don’t you?” “What?” You give her a look like she just slapped you. “You are being a selfish stupid idiot!” “What am I supposed to d-“ she stands to her full height now scolding you. “Do have any idea how much those 2 women care about you? The moment you just poofed away they started panicking! We heard them we heard the commotion.”

They panicked when you left… why they don’t love you! They don’t want you Morticia is lying she has to be. “That’s why I knew where you would be because you always come here when you are being and idiot! So get out of your head and wake up! Because you’re right about one thing they do deserve better. They deserve to be treated way better than you are right now!”

Now that hurts you never wanted to hurt them. You didn’t. They don’t care about you, you are better off alone.

“Don’t you think I know that!! I love them so badly it hurts! They run through my dreams! And plague my thoughts. Every piece of art I see, every symphony I hear.” You are crying so full of emotions that you can’t stop them. “When I cook I feel Melissa when I play Fleetwood Mac I hear Larissa sing! I burn for them, I would climb every mountain, crawl through hell, catch a falling star if they just asked! I want to spend the rest of my life making sure they never want for anything! I want to take care of them. I want to love them and give them everything they deserve! Gods do I love them!”

“We love you too.” “Even when you are acting foolish.” You freeze staring at Morticia not daring to move. “I think it’s time I take my leave. I think you 3 have a lot to talk about. Come Gomez.” She stands walking out with her husband as your girls move to take her place in front of you.

“Care to tell us why all of this happened?” You look up at them standing in front of you in comfortable clothes eyes red and holding each other. You fucked up. “(Y/n) did we do something? Help us understand what happened.” You can see that you hurt them you did this caused this problem the last full day and you ran. To consumed in your own issues you didn’t even realize.

“I-I’m so sorry”. You take a step forward and at meet with a hand making you stop in your tracks you heart drops and the feeling of dread. “Why… why did you run…” Melissa oh god the look on her face and Larissa just looks angry. “We thought it was all going so good…” “and it was! I don’t want either of you to think for a moment that this was y’all’s fault. It was me all me, I was in my own head and.. oh Gods I’m so sorry. I never wanted to make the both of you feel like this.”

Larissa turns to Melissa and the whisper to each other before turning to look at you. “Come on… it’s cold in here and you don’t have near enough cloths on… and we need to talk”. Larissa finally looking you over. You let them lead you back to the room looking down self doubt and shame filling your body. You hurt your girls and you don’t know what is wrong with you but you hope to fix this…

@enchantressb @gwendolinechristieiscute @mrs-prentiss

#larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #gwendoline christie #principal weems #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti

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gamerbearmira · 11 months

Note

New au!

Diamond Mirabel au..les get it

The candle didn’t mean for this to happen, he didn’t mean for Mirabel to be cast aside like a stepchild. How could Alma do this? How could the whole family do this? It wasn’t right for damn sure!

Alma, her grandmother, who’s of all people is supposed to love her. That’s not what she is, Alma basically acts as if Mirabel is just some girl in her house-no at least some girl would get a lot more respect then Mira does. An abuela is supposed to hold you, read you bedtime stories, tell you stories about her life. That all stopped after her ceremony.

The candle is very upset at his wife to say the least.

Julieta, her mother, isn’t all bad but she adds to the problems. Yes, she and her agustin try to be there for her but it isn’t enough. Why does the village matter more than your own child?...it's all under Alma’s influence. Still doesn’t excuse Julie at all though. Isabela and Luisa, her sisters. Luisa, like her parents, doesn’t really have time for her but does try her best. Isabela, however, doesn’t try at all. All she does is belittle Mirabel or snap at her for just being in her presence.

Felix does try for his niece, Pepa acts as if she isn’t there. Camilo does like to talk to her and cheer her up. Usually Alma stops them from talking immediately though.Dolores…barely talks to her at all. The townspeople are no better, some are nice but most treat her as if she’s a bad omen or like a piece of trash.

The only one that treats her with respect are TWO of her friends and her primo antonio. That’s only because Pepa and Felix dumped him on her at 10. She doesn’t complain though, she loves him. But that shouldn’t have happened, why did a 10 year old need to become a mother when the baby's mother is perfectly fine and well enough to watch after said baby?

Mirabel loves her family but understands what’s happening around her, you only matter if you have a gift. She doesn’t like that fact and doesn’t think highly of her grandmother for it, but she doesn’t show it of course.

Well that ALL stops today, Mirabel is supposed to be the jewel of the family…and so was Bruno. But since Brunito can’t really step in at the moment, Mirabel is going to get the spotlight that she deserves.

Shine bright like a diamond

The night of Antonio’s ceremony was tough, much for Mirabel than anyone else. Sure her favorite primito got a gift, and it was something that aligned with his interests which made her even more happy. But…she can’t help but think of her ceremony and what gift she could have gotten. You expect her not to think about it? All she could do was toss and turn, and couldn't help but remember her fading door. She couldn’t help but remember how almost everyone turned their back on her, either voluntarily or involuntarily.

Shine bright like diamond

Tears were building up in her eyes but she tried to fight them, she tried no to remember how her Abuela said she was basically drunk when she tried to alert everyone that something was wrong. She tried to fight remembering how her Abuel looked disappointed in her and how her own mother didn’t believe her. She tried to fight remembering how Isabela scoffed and rolled her eyes about the matter. Why did no one believe her?

Fine light in the beautiful sea I need you to be happy

She tried to fight remembering how she wasn’t included in the new family picture, she practically helped raise Antonio and she didn’t get to be in the picture?

You're a shooting star I see

Why was this happening to her? Why didn’t she get a gift? Why did her own family not like her because of it? What did she do to deserve this? These questions circled in her mind over and over again, she let the tears flow and sobbed under the covers of her bed.

I knew what you’d become one right away, oh right away

The candle was shining and sparkling brightly, a huge light covered Casita and the nursery.

I saw the life inside your eyes

Mirabel covered her eyes, a huge warm feeling covered her like a warm blanket. The candle grew brighter, and Casita’s floorboards and shingles rattled. The candle grew brighter and brighter, the warmth got stronger.

Shine bright tonight, you’re beautiful diamonds in the sky

Antonio was having a hard time, due to the new surroundings, and really wanted to sleep in the nursery with his Prima though. His room was naturally lit up by his treehouse, a glowing treehouse if you will. He could see everything but that doesn’t mean he was comfortable.

He made his way down the treehouse, not noticing that Parce was following him. He opened his door and peeked through to see if anyone was awake. A few seconds pass and he walks out of his room and closes the door. Tonito makes his way to the nursery but…the door seems different. It was glowing and…Mirabel was on it.

Due to the rush of excitement, Antonio opened the door and there was Mirabel and her new room! Everything looked like Isabela’s room, but more crystal/geode like and with much more colors. And VERY large. The walls were like spiky crystals with different shades of purples of blues, with some added colors. Her furniture looked like geodes and crystals but much more comfortable. Gold chains and multicolored pearls hung from the ceiling as well.

Her bed hung high like Isabela’s but pearls and diamonds held the bed up instead of flowers. The bed itself is also like the inside of a geode. Not to mention that literal diamonds, crystals, pearls, and what looked to be gold beads sat on the floor.

“Antonio?!” a familiar voice called out

“Mira you HAVE A ROOOM!!!!” Antonio cheered,

The geode bed lowered itself down so Mirabel could get off. She got off her bed, ran towards Antonio and hugged him. Happy tears flowed down her cheeks as she nearly squeezed the life out of the boy.

“And I have a gift” she added with a smile, she let go of Antonio and wiped away her tears.

“Why are you sad? I thought you wanted a gift”

“I’m not sad tonito, I’m more happy than you could ever imagine”

Antonio looked at her new appearance, she wasn’t wearing her nightgown. Instead she was wearing a blue monarch butterfly dress and had what seemed to be a blue crystal tiara on her head.

“You look like a princess!!” Antonio beamed,

“I know, it’s kind of flashy for me but I like it”

“This is so cool!Can you make crystals and diamonds? That’s your gift right? Have you tried to make some? ” Antonio questioned, looking around her room once more.

“Oh well I don’t quite…know yet…let me try!!” Mirabel took a deep breath in, closed her eyes, and held up two fists. She could feel it, two diamonds and maybe pearls formed in her hands. She opened her eyes and hands and she was right. Two blue diamonds and small pearls and crystals formed in her hands.

“I..I just made diamonds…and crystals..aye dios mio” Mirabel would have nearly passed out if Antonio wasn’t there. He softly but quickly rocked her head back and forth until she was fully conscious, she didn’t fully pass out but she was on her way there.

“I JUST MADE DIAMONDS AND CRYSTALS!!!” Mirabel screamed, startling Antonio in the process.

Mirabel couldn’t believe what she was seeing, she has a GIFT!!!

“Oh you should tell la familia!!” Antonio said, pulling her close the the door

“Wait! Let’s make it a surprise, it’s my gift tonito!” she said, stopping Antonio in his tracks

The boy pouted but understood what she was trying to say, “aww man, okay”

Mirabel saw his face and got an idea on how to make him happy “Hey, how about we make some gifts for the family?”

Mirable woke up bright and early, mostly to take Antonio back to his room, and to finish the gifts she made for the family. Mirabel wasn’t planning on serving the community at all today, or ever because of how most of them treated her but she will show some things off with friends. Publicly.

All the glamor around her was very new, glamor wasn’t very much her thing but…it felt nice. It felt nice to know that she was just as glamorous as Isa, if not more so. This made her think why she wasn’t glamorous before, nothing was stopping her. Mira felt a little disappointed in herself for not feeling the courage to be just as graceful and glamorous as Isa.

She turned her head toward her new white marble closet and remembered her whole new wardrobe. Her closet was filled with new dresses, hats, shoes, and scarves. The note she read last night was in it, she must have placed it back in there without noticing. She can’t quite remember what it said so she read it again.

Mirabel thought this must have been from the candle, she is a little hurt that it took so long but better late than never. Mira had to decide between being too flashy or just enough to where what she’s wearing isn’t yelling “look at me” but today was her day, she should wear what she wants.

She had noticed that she heard violins playing in her room but couldn’t put a finger on where the sound was coming from. It was a particular upbeat tune that she liked (thank you next, bridgerton version). Mira could tell that she was in a room inside another place but decided to investigate later. Right now, she has a family to impress.

(the jewelry she made herself)

After deciding on an outfit, she got dressed, grabbed all the gifts she made for her family and walked downstairs to the outside breakfast table. She first sat a magenta colored box with a maroon bow in front of Alma’s seating area. She then sat an orange colored box with a yellow bow in front of Pepa’s seating area and so on.

“Ugh what is this?” Isabela asked with disgust in her tone, also eyeing what Mirabl was wearing.

‘Keep the same attitude Isa, keep that same attitude’ Mirabel thought to herself. Once everyone was situated Antonio spoke up.

“Hi everyone, I would like for all of you to open Mirabel’s gifts, she worked very hard on them” Antonio giggled at that last part and winked at Mirabel. Who also winked back.

“Oh well Antonio I'm sure she did but we all have things to do and we need to talk about how you’ll help the community” Alma said with a slightly nervous smile.

“Pleeeeeease” Antonio begged with his irresistible puppy dog eyes

Alma looked at Mirabel who just happened to look away as if she wasn’t listening to the conversation. Alma sighed and opened the box in front of her, in the box were drop magenta earrings with gold plated square maroon crystal necklace.

Crystal and diamonds were extremely rare in Encanto, the only ones you could find were passed down family heirlooms. That’s the only thing most people could take during the raiding.

“Where…where did you get this?” Alma asked, shock fully showing itself on her face.

As julieta opened hers, there was a long lapis lazurite spoon along, kyanite pendant, teardrop turquenite earrings, and a blue crystal crown.

“Dios mio” Julie gasped

Agustin opened his box, inside it was a dumortierite crystal carved into an ax. Luisa had a sodalite crystal earring and necklace set. Isabela also got an earring and necklace set made out of purple sapphire and spinel crystals.

Dolores got a choker with a red ruby heart on it and red ruby heart earrings. Pepa got gold sun earrings and a golden halo. Felix got two orange rings made of spessartite garnet.

“Wow…how’d you make these?” Camilo chimed in, holding up two gold chameleon earrings. The rest of the family are doing the same with their new gifts.

Mirabel kept one more present, this one was for Antonio. Mira got up from her seat and headed over to Antonio, in her hand was ferronnière. The ferronnière had a small jaguar head pendant made out of tiger iron at the end of it.

“Oh you guys didn’t notice, I got my gift last night, you guys didn’t see my door?” Mirabel asked

“...”

“Wow…okay,” she said

‘a new glowing door appears but of course you wouldn’t notice’

“Your joking, you don’t have a gift” Isabela said

“Oh really?”

Mirabel held out her hand for everyone to see, took a deep breath, closed her hand then and opened it. There were three purple sapphires and small gold chains in her hand. Which weren’t there before.

“How…how is this possible?” Alma asked

“I don’t know,” Mirabel shrugged. “Want to see my new room?” she smirked

This family ran up to Mirabel's room quicker than a toddler reaching for a cookie that’s 2 inches away from it. Mira handed Alma the note and asked her to read it out loud.

Dear Mirabel, I know that you’ve been longing for a gift ever since you knew what one was and I’m sorry I didn’t give you one sooner but I hope you’ll understand once you get older, here is a wardrobe, a castle, and a gift fit for a princess soon to be queen, I hope you like these Mariposa and I hope you forgive me as well

“Queen?!?!?” Alma shrieked

“CASTLE?!?!?” Isabela shrieked

“Si, castle” Mirabel said with a bright smile

Julieta quickly rushed over to her daughter and smothered her cheeks in kisses. Everybody , except Antonio, stood there gobsmacked at the situation. Mirabel…with a gift…and a CASTLE???

“Now if you'll excuse me, I got some red-ecorating with the town” And with that, Mirabel was out of her room and Casita made sure to lightly push everyone except Antonio, Agustin, luisa, and Camilo out of her room. No visitors are allowed until she gets back, and Julie is needed to pass out arepas.

On the inside of Mirabel’s room, golden words appeared on her door for Antonio, Luisa, and Camilo to see.

How about you guys explore, everybody else can do their chores until Mirabel gets back.

“Welp you don’t have to tell me twice,” Camilo said as he walked around her room, eyeing and touching everything.

On the other side of the door

No one but the trusted ones are allowed to go in until Mirabel gets back, go do your daily tasks. (yes, julieta ang agustin you are a trusted one but you have a job to do, but you are welcome to come in here for a break. Plus you need to see Mirabel work her magic for the first time, don’t miss out!)

“What does trusted one mean?”

“How is she doing that?”

“How is this possible?’’

“When did she get a gift?”

The townspeople marveled at Mirabel, she was doing the exact same thing Isabela was but with crystals and gems. Each balcony railing bar had gems on them, every roof had tower crystals on them. Making the town a little bit more colorful due to the sun shining through them (these are magic crystals so nothing will catch fire). All of it basically fused with or covered Isabela’s flowers.

Some large geodes and crystals bursted from the ground, thankfully not in the way of people. Mirabel was already beginning to understand her power, and she knew it.

“Who wants a custom necklace or earrings?” Mirabel called out

“Huh?”

“Oh right” Mirabel held out her hand to the nearest woman and in two seconds a blue pearl necklace appeared with a turquoise diamond at the end of it.

“Here take it”

The woman quickly took the blue pearl necklace and looked at it in awe and shock.

“Who else wants one!?” Mirabel cheerfully shouted

“Me”

“I want one”

People circled around Mirabel, all asking for a necklace or earrings or some sort of accessory. Mirabel didn’t want to admit it but she relished in this moment, this was the kind of attention she deserved. Granted, she will have to make some boundaries but for right now, she was going to be a princess amongst her people, like she always should have been.

some drawings I made for the au (the last two are just some lyrics from Material girl by saucy santana)

If you have any ideas let me know!

She’s so sillay‼️⁉️ amazing art btw, love it <333

Kind of weird how they didn’t notice a whole extra room. But you also can’t blame them entirely, I mean it’s not like they were search for it. But hey⁉️

Honestly cool gift. She got that money, that bag. She can make Diamond (and other precious gems? Or is it just different colored diamonds. Idk, still cool). Can’t imagine what everyone thinks, cause I imagine jewels like that are probably pretty rare in the Encanto. The fact that she can just make them, yeah, that’s pretty radial.

Probably ends up making a lot of gift for people, maybe that’s when weddings rings start have them rocks in em💀 cause so far I’ve only seen silver and gold wedding bands 🌚

#my asks #my asks are open #encanto #encanto au #au #encanto mirabel #Diamond Mirabel AU

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wasteofbandagesxx · 6 months

Text

It's hard to let you go

{Fyodor x reader}

Content: Obsessive behavior, angst, fake love, manipulation, blood, murder, Stockholm syndrome

The man you love makes promises. He makes promises only to break them. He promises means nothing to him, but it means something to you, too bad he doesn't stick to them. He promises he'll be back tomorrow, he'll be gone for a week. Yes he's busy with his job, but he also doesn't have interest being around you so he should thank his job for giving him time away from you. Fyodor is a busy and successful man. You were nothing but a subordinate.

It hurts you, but you don't bother confronting him about it. He knows your in pain, he knows that you love him, he just doesn't care. Feelings are nothing to him and he wouldn't want to have them in the way of his goals. Right now you were sitting right by him as he types away on his computer. His eyes all over the monitors and his fingers all over the keyboard as he types non stop. You couldn't think of anything but him loving you, you love to fantasize about Fyodor loving you back. The thought about it makes you want to cry, but you wouldn't want to bother Fyodor so you hold it in. You ask yourself, why aren't you enough for Fyodor? Why can't Fyodor love you back? Questions after questions run through your mind like a roller coaster as you end up spacing out and muttering those questions.

You heard a faint voice as you slowly come back to reality.

"Myshka"

His accent was thick, his accent was soothing just how you liked it. You finally snapped out of your thoughts and looked up at him. "Yes Fyodor?" You asked. "Do get me coffee, I need to stay up so I could finish my work. I can't risk falling asleep." He said, his eyes never left the screens.

"Why not get some rest?" You asked, "Because, this is important so therefore I must stay up. Now go get me coffee like I asked." He said, he sounds annoyed and demanding. You quickly get up and rush over to the door, but came to a halt as the thoughts started to consume you again.

"Myshka. Stop spacing out and do what I asked." He demanded, snapping you out of your thoughts. You quickly open the door and rush over to the kitchen to make him coffee.

Time flies by, Fyodor is now starting to come home with multiple wounds that you would have to treat. You take care of him. You cook for him, make him coffee, and run errands for him. You do everything for him when he's busy, the least he could do is repay you back by affection. You craved his touch, his lips, you just want his love.

"Oh dear, your covered in blood. What did you do?" Fyodor asked. Earlier you ran into someone who was an enemy of Fyodor's. An enemy that was going to expose Fyodor and his evil doing, so you put an end to that person. "I killed someone that was a threat to you. I didn't want you to get In trouble." You mutter out. Fyodor got up from his chair and walks towards you, you were nervous at the moment. Shivering in fear, you flinch as he raised his hand. "Dear, I can never thank you enough. I needed them gone and you did it for me. Good job." He said, patting your head as a reward. He knows you love head pats, you could never get tired of his touch. "Go clean up and then we'll cuddle, go on." Fyodor said with a gentle smile. You nodded happily and walked out of the room while leaving little blood trails behind. You were skipping down the hall as your mind wonders to so many things, so many imagination, just full of thoughts. You were so happy, grinning from ear to ear as the head pat got you all excited, but the skipping came to a halt as you thought of something.

Why are you so attached to him? You've been pushed away and neglected by him sometimes, but he'll also give you love and affection. You knew everything was fake, you just decide to ignore it. Day after day you plan to run away, to put your foot down and give Fyodor a piece of your mind. Tell him how you actually feel and not the love sick version of you, your mind mentally screams at you to do the right thing while your heart says the opposite. You stand there as you begin to overthink again and question yourself. You couldn't turn your back on Fyodor, you just can't, it's impossible.

"It's hard to let you go..."

#anime #anime and manga #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs #bsd #fanfic #fyp #fyodor dostoevsky

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lena-in-a-red-dress · 1 year

Text

Previous Husband AU, Pt 7

((Content warning for abuse/domestic violence))

When the sun rises, Kara valiantly ventures out in search of pastries, giving Lena time to shower and dress without an audience. She must have needed it, because Lena is still in the bathroom when Kara returns, arms laden with krullers and claws.

A flash of white on the coffee table catches her eye as she deposits her spoils in the kitchen. It's Lena's journal from the night before, she discovers when she goes to investigate, still lying open to the page full of scribbled notes.

Kara knows it isn't meant for her. But her eye can't help but skip over the page, when she goes to close it. Itemized points of the red flags Lena had mentioned the night before sear themselves into her vision, mostly various arguments instigated and escalated by either side-- and then she sees it.

Insisted on sex.

Underlined, and followed by a series of tick marks tallying the number of instances Lena could apparently recall.

Kara snaps the book shut, then straightens with a hand over her mouth as her stomach churns. Guilt claws at her, wrapping around her stomach like a python until she can hardly breathe.

She should have fought harder. She shouldn't have taken the snubs personally. She should have given Lena the benefit of the doubt, over and over again. Because she's earned it-- hasn't she? They may not have known each other as long as some, but there's no denying that their connection ran deeper than just casual acquaintances.

Kara should have stayed with Lena. If she had, maybe--

"Hey," Lena calls, stepping out of the bathroom. Wringing the water from her hair with one of Kara's towels, she looks at her host in concern. "Everything okay?"

Turning towards Lena, Kara moves towards her and wraps her arms around her friend without a word. Lena's arms reflexively wrap around her in return, squeezing her firmly.

"What brought this on?"

Kara just shrugs. "Just needed a hug. I've missed them."

She feels Lena smile against her. "Well, in that case..."

Lena's grip turns vise-like, nearly suffocating her. Kara melts into it, unable to help the giggle that bubbles up in her chest. Lena's own giggle joins in a moment later.

"Careful," Lena warns. "A girl could get used to this."

Kara smirks into Lena's shoulder. "You better," she mumbles.

They stay there for a long moment, neither of them interested in stepping away. The guilt comes back, clicking in Kara's throat, strangling the whisper that eventually issues its way out.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I let you go..."

"Don't." The word comes sharp and sure. "I wasn't treating you like a friend should. You had every right to put yourself first--"

Kara withdraws, wiping her eyes as surreptitiously as she can, which is not much when she's unwilling to move more than a step from her friend.

"I ghosted you. You deserved to know what I was feeling, and why I bailed. I'm sorry I just shut down instead of trying to talk to you about it."

Lena gazes at her thoughtfully. After a moment, she nods.

"Okay," she says firmly, using her non-toweled hand to grip Kara's fingers. "You need me to be here for you, and I will be, as much as I can. And in return I need you to communicate with me-- the good and the bad. Because you're right, I'm not a mind reader, and I can't guess at what you're feeling if you don't talk to me."

Lena holds Kara's gaze intently, then smiles. "The rest we'll figure out together, okay?"

On the cusp of tears again, Kara responds by surging towards Lena, wrapping her up in another big hug. Lena returns it just as fiercely as before, and this time her head rests against the side of Kara's.

"I'm glad you're here," Kara murmurs. "I'm only sorry it took this long for it to happen."

Lena nods. "Me too." Then, "but that's it for apologies, okay? I'm tired of crying."

Kara laughs, pulling back with a grin.

"Agreed." She tilts her head towards the kitchen. "Bear claw?"

"Oh, god, yes."

#supercorp #prev husband au #the morning after #abuse #domestice violence

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bright-and-burning · 2 months

Note

director's commentary on a lobby with nine hundred windows please!! - luv, @vroombeams

i always forget i don’t actually know what im supposed to be writing for director’s cuts. akdhkahd. this got long (and disorganized and rambling) bc i have not really talked to anyone abt this fic so you got. lots of my thoughts.

fic directors cut

this fic was so hard to come up with as a concept (which was originally all i was supposed to do according to the game. lol.) but once i had a concept it like kind of unfolded in front of my eyes? i wrote it in like. a sitting and a half (started on the train on my phone finished at home on my laptop).

the set up for this was kind of. everyone gets out of their cars at the end of australia, and then the universe goes, well. wobbly. and everyone is suddenly stuck in weird (and in this case, kind of nightmare ish?) pocket dimensions. i didn’t really think about anyone else but honestly everyone is probs stuck w their teammate. weird fia magic.

i kind of put lando through the ringer here, just a little. poor little meow meow… having to get up close and personal with killing oscar over and over and over again… i usually write from oscar pov (which is interesting bc i think lando’s brain (or. my version of lando’s brain) in theory should be easier to slip into since i do not think like oscar. at all) but i stuck with that decision especially so here bc i didn’t super trust in my ability to write that kind of traumatizing kill or die trying type violence up close and personal? or at least not with the weight and drama i felt like it deserved to come across correctly (though i am still not sure it actually feels tense and not goofy or mispaced? 😭). and i think looking at it and the aftermath from this outside perspective of someone who cares deeply abt lando was more interesting anyways. i think it’s more horrific to have lines like. “‘He was just wrong. I dunno. Didn’t smile right, or something. Like that valley thing.’

Lando’s clearly leaving something unsaid, some bigger reason to put a knife under Oscar’s chin, but he looks like he’s about to start shaking again.” or “‘They disappear, after. That’s how I knew that I- That’s how I knew.’

That’s how he knew he hadn’t made a mistake, he means. That he hadn’t killed the real Oscar.

‘Oh. That’s good, then. That they disappear.’

‘Not- not right away.’”

like oscar’s (and the reader’s) imagination fills in the blanks in the same way that like. horror where you never get a glimpse of the monster (or how seeing things moving in the dark when you can’t pick them out etc) is much scarier, because it’s you vs your imagination, coming up with scarier and scarier shit. nothing i could’ve come up with would be half as unsettling as lando being unwilling to talk about it, as lando’s stuttering over the bodies sticking around for a little bit before disappearing without a trace.

from lando’s pov i mean. went from adrenaline come down podium champagne moment to . well it’s kind of implied that the first oscar comes at him. i think in my head (WHATEVER YOU IMAGINED IS EQUALLY VALID. bc i am making this up on the spot basically) maybe he opens the door to the first oscar (in the same exact room/set up as real oscar) and you know. unties him, treats him as the real oscar, is like what the fuck is going on (i’m so glad im with you) only to be tossed into a knock-down drag-out fight for his life. desperately trying to figure out why oscar’s attacking him, being like what are you doing snap out of it until he’s forced to take lethal action to not get. idk. strangled, or something. in a really. up front and personal way. no distance, you know? sitting there after covered in blood probably dry heaving if we’re real. sobbing. kicked the knife away type beat. next to not-oscar’s body. only for it to shimmer out of existence after several extremely long minutes. and then he’s gotta do that. over. and over. and over. he works out his little system, so he’s not fighting for his life every time, but like. emotionally he is holding on by a Thread. if that.

i don’t think i super elaborate on their relationship but like. they’re definitely emotionally committed to each other. maybe in love but nobody’s quite said it yet. so lando’s just killed 8 doppelgängers of someone he loves. via knife to the throat… yeah. a lot!

admittedly in the grand scheme of things i also thought it was less freaky than perhaps it came across to others?? wren said she had a nightmare after reading it 😭. i normally (as we know) write like. comfort. silly goofy stuff. been dipping my toes into porn. i knew it was waaay out of the box for me and writing it/reading it back it felt like . there was no tension. LOL. that it was kind of silly déréalism stuff with no substance but i was like well i wrote it already. might as well post it. even tho i was less than satisfied w the amount of tension/dread/fear that i infused it with (and with the ending, tbh, but i didn’t want to drag it out into like 6k of aimless weirdness akdhakdh) which im hoping is mostly my own self criticism kicking in and nitpicking me but. who knows. it makes extreme sense why it’s my least popular by literally every metric fic LOL it is a weird one for sure!

#ask #writing game #one of those fics where im like . i do wish ppl would give it a chance. but i get why they don’t akdhskhd #but also i forget this fic exists sometimes. all of this is true at the same time #a lobby with nine hundred windows dot ao3

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tsarisfanfiction · 1 year

Text

#4 (Sing A Song of Seven)

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: Gen Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Characters: Michael Yew, Baird McNeilly (OC), Lee Fletcher, Ceri Priddy (OC) A series of Cabin Seven oneshots. This time: A burnt leg. This idea would not leave me alone today, so have some more Michael content, and also some of my Apollo cabin OCs finally make an appearance! This is set significantly pre-canon - Michael is ten, Lee is eleven. Warning for a burn description, and shout out to my sister for providing the Gaelic! Reminder that there’s now a discord server for all my fics, including this one! If you wanna chat with me or with other readers about stuff I write (or just be social in general), hop on over and say hi! <<#3

“I’ve got him,” Michael heard, the voice familiar through the darkness. “Go give Ceri a heads’ up, and see if you can find Lee, too.”

Muffled words, further away from him and too hard to make out, replied. Michael frowned, trying to peel his eyes open – why the fuck where they closed? What the fuck was happening? He’d been on the climbing wall. That wasn’t black. The lava made sure of it.

Arms slid underneath him and then he was floating and oh no they fucking weren’t. Suddenly no longer glued shut, his eyes snapped open as he squirmed.

“Put me the fuck down!” he demanded, not even looking at the fucker that had picked him up as he writhed, pushing to get away.

His leg moved and he screamed.

“Hey, hey!” the fucker – Michael recognised that accent but his leg hurt and he couldn’t think – protested. “Relax, Michael. You’ll hurt yourself more if you keep moving.” The arms holding him tightened, pinning him against a much larger body. He tried to wriggle his torso free without moving his leg, which fucking burned, but everything went white and he screamed again.

“Naw, I’ve got this,” he heard the older demigod say as the white faded away. “Don’t crowd him, guys. Shoo, shoo.”

Michael cracked an eye open and glowered up at the other son of Apollo. “Put. Me. Down,” he growled, tilting his head back to glare past the demigod’s long dark ginger hair where it spilled over his shoulder and at his half-brother directly.

Fucking half-siblings. He’d run away from the fucking things; there weren’t supposed to be more where he ended up!

Even if these ones didn’t treat him like shit.

Baird shook his head. He was one of the oldest of Michael’s newly-discovered half-siblings, seventeen and broad-shouldered, as well as a fucking good archer – Michael had spent a lot of the time at the range with him, learning about shit like technique.

He was also proudly Scottish, with a soft accent that was distinctly not-American but also not how Michael had thought Scots sounded – not that he’d asked Baird about that. He wasn’t that interested.

He had, however, told him that he had better be wearing fucking boxers under the kilt he frequently wore. Several times. Baird just grinned at him and told him not to look every time, which wasn’t a fucking answer.

“No can do, a ghille,” his half-brother told him, a small smile on his face. Michael had been promised it was a term of endearment and not an insult. He didn’t know if he believed it, but he wasn’t the only one Baird called that, so he let it slide. “That lava chewed your leg up pretty good. You’re not going to be walking on that.”

The fucking lava had what.

Michael twisted, putting his escape attempt on hold for the moment in favour of trying to see his leg. Now he was aware of it, the pain was impossible to ignore, and Michael had a horrible feeling it was making him cry. His eyes were itching.

Baird held still as he moved, although his grip was tight enough that Michael couldn’t really move much. Still, he managed to tilt his head enough to catch sight of pale, waxy skin blotched with red and pink and looking entirely too wrong, never mind the fact his pants had singed away to the knee.

“Fuck.” The word came out like a sob. His eyes prickled more and his cheeks stung. Baird seemed to take that as a cue to start walking and Michael glared at him. “Put me down.”

“You need the infirmary, Michael,” Baird told him, raising one shoulder in half a shrug. “I can call for a stretcher instead if you really want, but this is faster.”

Michael was no more impressed with the idea of a fucking stretcher than he was about being carried. “I heal fast,” he protested, scowling as salty water trickled into the corner of his mouth and rubbing at his eyes furiously. Why the fuck was he crying? It was only a bit of fucking pain.

“And you’ll heal even faster when Ceri gets a look at that leg of yours,” his half-brother countered immediately. “So is this okay, or do I need to get someone to bring a stretcher instead?”

Neither option was fucking okay, but Michael shoved his face into Baird’s chest, using the bright orange t-shirt to soak up the fucking tears. Being carried like a kid was fucking embarrassing but a stretcher would be even worse. “Hurry the fuck up,” he mumbled.

“Okay, okay. Hurrying up.” True to his word, Michael felt Baird speed up, taking bigger steps and holding him a little tighter. If anyone was looking – they had better not be, Michael would shoot anyone that ever fucking mentioned it – no-one said anything and Baird didn’t acknowledge anyone, either. Michael kept his face pressed against his half-brother’s t-shirt until the noise of Baird’s steps changed.

“Michael!” Lee’s voice had him raising his head. His blond half-brother was looking at him with wide eyes from inside the infirmary. Next to him, long red hair shoved back in a messy bun, Ceri was pulling on gloves, barely looking at them.

Lee’s presence made Michael feel a little better, not that he’d ever admit it. Baird wasn’t terrible – his archery coaching did put him in Michael’s okay books despite his refusal to admit if he wore boxers under the kilt or not – but Lee was Lee.

Michael would never fucking admit it, but Lee felt a lot like how he thought safety should.

Baird sat him down on one of the beds, and Michael couldn’t stop the whine of pain as his burnt leg straightened. Immediately, Lee and Ceri were there, shooing Baird out of the way and taking his place.

A moment later, the bed behind him dipped, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Baird smiling at him reassuringly. Michael hadn’t expected him to stay.

“Here, drink this.” Lee caught his attention again, dragging it away from Baird and focusing it on the cup of golden liquid Michael knew was nectar. It tasted good, like cherry candies, but best of all it stopped his leg from hurting.

Ceri knelt on the floor in front of his leg and gently dabbed at it with water while Lee grabbed his attention and started asking exactly what had happened, as though he thought Michael could fucking remember. All he remembered was climbing the fucking lava wall, then Baird’s voice as his half-brother fucking picked him up without even fucking asking.

“Michael missed a foot-hold,” Baird filled in after Michael replied to Lee’s worried questions with a non-answering shrug. “He got caught by the lava when he fell. Fainted for about half a minute, Ceri.”

“Noted,” Michael’s older half-sister said, setting the cloth aside and softly laying her palm over where the burn was the worst. Like Baird, her accent was decidedly non-American. Michael hadn’t asked where she was from but she and Baird both liked to mock Geoff from cabin eleven for being English. All three of them were about the same age, although he was pretty sure Ceri was at least younger than Baird.

It wasn’t like he actually cared about that shit, though.

“Hold still, Michael,” Ceri told him. “Lee-”

“I’ve got him,” Lee interrupted, a bright smile crossing his worried face. He sat on the bed next to Michael, completely ignoring Baird behind them. “Ceri’s going to fix you up, okay?” he said. “It’ll feel weird, but a good-weird.”

Before Michael could ask what the fuck that meant, she started to chant softly. The words weren’t in English, but Michael understood them perfectly in the strange mindfuck way that Ancient Greek had.

He’d seen Ceri and Lee both healing others over the summer, as well as some of the other half-siblings whose names he didn’t remember because they’d fucked off at the end of August and there were too fucking many of them to remember, anyway. He knew they sang to Apollo, to the guy that used to pop into his dreams almost every night and now only showed once a week, and that that was somehow enough to heal injuries. Sometimes it was even faster than Michael’s natural regeneration.

This was the first time he’d been hurt badly enough that the cherry-candy flavoured nectar and his own fast healing couldn’t heal him since arriving at camp.

It tickled.

Michael squirmed at the golden light brushing over his leg, then glared at Lee when he put his hand on his upper leg to hold him still.

“Stay still,” his brother told him firmly. Baird pressed a hand against his back.

“You’re doing good, a ghille,” he said. “The less you squirm, the more healing Ceri can do.”

Michael sent him a dark look but tried to stop moving. It fucking tickled, though. Lee’s hand on his leg helped keep it still, but did nothing for the tickling as Ceri’s healing chant continued, a faint golden glow around her hand and his leg.

After an eternity of what felt like fucking tickle-torture, Ceri stopped chanting and pulled her hand back.

“Third degree,” she rasped, voice hoarse. Baird leaned past Michael to give her a bottle of water, which she threw back without hesitating. “But it’ll be fine. Your healing is something else, Michael. I don’t think it’ll even scar once it’s done.” She waved a hand loosely at Lee, who slipped off of the bed to kneel in front of him, next to Ceri. Michael leaned forwards, surprised to see his leg had already lost the weird pale look and was a shiny pink. It disappeared under the bandages Lee started to wind around his leg. “Take it easy; stay in here until dinner time.”

Michael frowned. “You just said it was gonna be fucking fine.”

Ceri sighed. “You still have to give it time to heal, Michael. Baird, go grab him some fresh trousers from the store. I’ll see if Marian can salvage these, or the harpies if she can’t.”

“Sure.” The bed shifted as Baird stood up, and Michael glanced back at him. The Scot grinned at him. “Listen to Ceri, a ghille. She knows what she’s talking about.” A large hand rested on his shoulder and he twisted around to glare properly at him. “And be a bit more careful on that wall in future, yeah? I’m not a fan of charbroiled kid brothers.”

Michael’s stomach did a little twist, the same way the fucking thing did when his half-siblings – these half-siblings, the ones that shared his dad – called him their brother, like it was natural and he was one of them.

“Whatever,” he muttered. Baird squeezed his shoulder slightly and grinned at him.

“Back in a bit,” he promised as he walked away, “with trousers.” He paused in the doorway and a smirk spread across his face. “Unless you’d rather a kilt?”

Lee laughed and Ceri sighed as Michael swore viciously at the now-empty doorway.

#5>>

#percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson fanfiction #riordanverse #riordanverse fanfic #michael yew #lee fletcher #original characters #baird mcneilly #ceridwen priddy #cabin seven #apollo cabin #tsari writes fanfiction #sing a song of seven

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wind-becomes-lightning · 2 years

Note

Hiiinomg again congrats for the 600 followers! May I request 👉👈 ObiYama with nr. 2 from the prompt list in the post or nr. 63 for maybe someone talking to Yamato about Obito? ❤️

good day gil, we are starting with you. I hope this is ok, maybe someday I will continue this AU because I think it is so cute. <3 Thank you for your well wishes

Uchiha Obito x Yamato Tenzo

My oc Sayuri is in this but you don't need to know anything other than that she is a childhood friend of Obito's.

Modern AU - HighSchool

2999 words.

Ao3 Link [x]

please note this is a continuation of this trick or treat fic and read that one first for context.

prompt: "Someone's in love!"

“And then he said that he wanted to take me out to see the treehouse he made as a kid sometime.”

“Hm.”

“I think it would be incredibly interesting to go there with him, you know? Just hanging out with him is so nice. I can’t believe people don’t talk to him much in school. He is so interesting.”

“I believe you.”

“And…” Obito looked up just in time to see Sayuri roll her eyes at his words. She was good at showing her annoyance with things if she wanted to, never had masked opinions in front of him, entirely unable to keep her grimaces in check if necessary.

He stopped the sentence at its beginning: “What?”

Sayuri’s head snapped over to him: “Oh, it’s just that you really talk about that Yamato guy constantly."

“Well he is my project partner and I like hanging out with him.” Obito made a face and pouted a little. “Also usually you don’t mind me telling you stuff that happened at school.”

She shook her head as if he was the most useless person she had ever met: “That is not what this is about, Bito, surely you understand it right? Or maybe not, because you don’t even understand your own feelings most of the time. Neither do you now.”

My god she could be so cryptic. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Somebody is in love.” She said dryly and pointed at him.

Obito felt the heat on his cheeks immediately. “Me?! W- Why?” How could she suggest something like that? “And with whom?” They exchanged a look and he added “Yamato-kun?! Surely not!”

The girl straightened her back out and picked up her school bag to hang over her shoulder. “I can tell you I’ve read enough BL manga to know you sound like the main character in one. First you hang with a guy because he is cool, then you hang with him alone because you get close, then you realise he is hot and the last stage is finally being honest with yourself.”

She paused for a moment. “I think you are only weeks away from recognising you think Yamato-kun is actually a good looking man. The rest comes from there.” She walked to his door.

Obito picked one of the pillows from her bed and hurled it at her. “Shut up, it’s not like that at all. You don’t understand.”

Sayuri smirked when she threw one last look at Obito: “Oh believe me, I’m good at denying my own feelings as well. That is why I know it when I see it.”

—

The culture festival was maybe a week away, Obito and Yamato were sitting cross legged in front of the giant costume of cardboard and fabric that was supposed to be their costume in the upcoming play. They had a staging rehearsal today and Obito had spent the last hour complaining about having to even go to a rehearsal when he was just a tree that would stand in the background and do nothing.

Yamato painted in front of him. He was doing an acorn tree, because according to him they were his favourite. Obito had never met a person that likes trees and forests as much as Yamato did, but it made it endearing. He hadn’t only volunteered to play with a tree because talking to strangers made him uncomfortable, but also because the thought of making a tree costume just made him happy.

“I’m glad to be included in the rehearsals,” Yamato said after Obito was done with his tirade. “I get to see how everyone is developing their parts. As a tree, I’m on stage most of the time and can observe and I really appreciate that.”

Obito grumbled: “I guess so.”

“I also think it’s nice that everyone is having fun together and I get to be part of that.” Yamato smiled to himself and Obito suppressed the urge to hug him in front of all of his classmates.

Yamato had grown up in an orphanage and where his parents were was a complete mystery. And while Obito too had no parents left he had grown up with his grandmother who though passed away now had treated him fairly well. Yamato however didn’t have a safe home until he could move out and live on his own once highschool came.

That was why he was so overly quiet in a way that Obito wasn’t. To compensate for his feeling of being left behind and regret, Obito was loud and boastful and open, while Yamato had become smaller and quieter the more years passed by, as if he was trying to not be in anyone’s way.

“You know,” Yamato said suddenly, pulling Obito out of his thought spiral. “I think we should work your scars into the colouring of your costume. The y make you look good and it would be unique to-”

Obito’s ears rang a little: “What did you say?”

“Hm?” Yamato looked up, his eyes again looking wide as they so often did.

“Repeat please what you said.”

“Your scars would be great, they make you look unique and it would probably anger Kakashi if you’d do something like that on your costu-”

Obito cut him off: “No, what you said before that. That you think.. They look good?”

“Oh- oh, I- I mean, the- they do look g-good, you know? You l-look good with them.” Yamato barely got the sentence out, but Obito could feel the compliment prickle on his skin. He let out a shaky breath not knowing why.

He looked up and studied the other guy’s face. His hair had grown since they started crafting together, a bit too long to fit the school's strict guidelines for boys but nobody had called him out on it yet. It has reached shoulder length now.

“That haircut looks good on you,” he complimented right back and momentarily Yamato’s face was flushed as well.

They remained like that for a moment, revelling in each other’s compliments. Then Obito suddenly remembered what Sayuri had said about falling in love. How she had told him he would find Yamato attractive soon enough and that this would inevitably lead to a confession in the future.”

“Uh, I’m going to get some fresh air, alright?” Obito got up. He was aware how weird it was that he was escaping that situation, but somehow he could not keep his heart from beating fast and he needed fresh air.

—

Back when Obito had been younger Kakashi, Sayuri and him had been friends with a girl who was their age, someone who had been in elementary class with them. She was kind, smart, and good and Obito had a crush on her that made him act like an absolute idiot when he was around her. Sayuri would make fun of him all the time.

Accepting that he was in love with Rin was easy as every moment with her felt right. LIke staying by her side would always make him happy. Nothing had been as precious to him as her smile and at night he had seen her laugh at his jokes, cheer on his matches and listen to all his stories. Rin was omnipresent in his universe, that was how he knew he had been in love with her.

Then she died one summer leaving the remaining friends mentally broken or in Obito’s and Kakashi’s case physically scarred. For a long time she hung between them like a ghost.

Obit hadn’t been in love again afterwards, even when some girls in his year had been interested in him. It wasn’t like it was with Rin, so it wasn’t worth even pursuing, such was his thought process. If it wasn’t someone with a quick wit, a kind smile and kind eyes, who could laugh at all his jokes and listen to all his stories then it wasn’t love and what he wanted was love.

He pushed his head against the stone wall of the school gym. It was cold outside and in his quick way of leaving Obito had forgotten to take a jacket. Now he was freezing in cold air, well that was just his punishment, he thought.

Yamato-kun was a good person, by all regards. He had lived through horrible things that had brought him out on the other side as a quiet, drawn back kind of boy, but a kind one. IN all the weeks they had spent together Obito had enjoyed his company very much.

Now that Obito thought about it clearly Yamato actually let him talk about things on his mind all the time. The boy would sit there and listen, he was an extraordinarily good active listener, and let Obito talk until his soul had been talked out.

And when Yamato was happy, he smiled and the smile felt like the first sun after a rainy november. It was kind, it was beautiful, just like him. Was that enough to call it being in love, like Sayuri had said?

“Uchiha-san.” Yamato appeared at the door. “Won’t you be cold out here?” He held Obito’s jacket in his hand.

Obito felt his heartbeat against his ribcage again. “Thank you,” he took the jacket and hung it around his shoulders. Yamato leaned next to him against the wall.

He was just barely half a head smaller than Obito was and a little less broad, the difference being Obito’s training in volleyball probably. They had never stood so close next to each other to full height. If Obito would move his pinky finger he could probably brush over Yamato’s.

If he wanted to. He still wasn’t sure about that.

“Uchiha-san”, Yamato said finally, keeping his eyes on his shoes.”If you don’t like hanging out with me you don’t have to feel compelled to.”

Obito ripped his head around: “What?”

The other boy pulled his shoulders up. “You are nice to me and I appreciate it, but I know I’m not the most interesting person to be around. I’m not - very good company I fear. I’m sorry.”

“That's nonsense.” Obito leaned over to pull Yamato’s ear a little as if he was an insolent young child. “Hanging out with you is the highlight of my week. In fact, I have told you my training is cancelled for today, but in reality I'm just skipping.”

That was more honest than Obito wanted to be. He felt the blush at his neck again and hoped Yamato would think it was nothing but the cold of the air.

“You shouldn’t skip practice,” Yamato scolded half heartedly. “But, if I am honest with myself, I have to say I’m very glad to hear that.” Then he smiled with his eyes closed like half moons and a wide smile like the sun.

Obito swallowed hard.

—-

It was ridiculous to be a tree that stands on stage during the entire play of their school, especially when Obito could see Genma, who was for some reason chosen to play the prince, fall over his feet several times trying to navigate the costume he was wearing. Obito knew he could do that better, he already had the entire text of the play down. Kakashi was lucky this was the last culture festival before they would go on to graduate because otherwise he might have just paid him back next year.

At least Obito was a beautiful tree. Yamato really had a hand in painting colours and had coloured his costume in wonderful greens and reds to signify autumn. “I had a kid with me in the orphanage who could paint well, even at a young age,” Yamato had told him. “So I took up painting as well.”

They had worked in Obito’s one sided scars, leaving traces in the stump of the tree costume as if someone had carved them in with a knife. It looked incredibly unique and when Obito wore his costume first Sayuri whistled a little and said: “Cool.” And not meant it sarcastically. That was high praise.

Generally Obito avoided Sayuri when he could now, which was hard because she was inviting herself over to his house as much as she could to escape her own father, but he wasn’t really ready to talk about it out of fear that it would bring some kind of revelation he wasn’t yet ready for.

Recently Rin had appeared in his dream, looking just like she had before she died, smiling. When Obnito asked why she was here to visit him she leaned over and told him that she would like to meet Yamato-kun. “He seems good for you,” she had said. “I’m glad he helps you move forward.” After waking up Obito had tried not to think too much about what that dream meant.

Three hours of standing around then Obito could finally get out of the heavy tree crown and the fabric costume. Sayuri, who was serving as a stagehand, helped both him and Yamato to undress.

“You guys looked good,” she said, pushing her hand flat to the back of each of them. “I’m glad you guys enjoyed hanging out so much while making this. Yamato-kun, you should totally come by our house sometime. Obito has myn video games.”

Yamato blinked. “You live together?!”

Obito pushed Sayuri away: “No! Of course not. No, no, I don’t- no, no, no, never.”

“Wow, so many “no’s” huh?” Sayuri put her hand on her hips and grinned. Then, turned to Yamato: “I’m just the neighbour. I hang out in his house because that is where my father can’t find me. Either way, you should come around sometimes. I promise it will just be the two of you.”

Yamato blushed so quickly that it looked like he had a sudden fever. Obito felt himself tense too at the thought of Yamato in his bedroom, shoulder to shoulder, maybe playing a video game, hands touching and…

He shook his head and leaned over to Sayuri: “What are you doing?” He whispered, trying to make it quiet enough so only she could hear. “Are you asking him out for me?”

“If you don’t do it yourself.” She breathed back.

Obito narrowed his eyes: “I can do that myself, thank you.”

She chuckled. “So I was right? Somebody is in love, huh?”

He wanted to hit her, but Kakashi did it for him, passing by with his big clipboard and hitting Sayuri right over the head with this. “Uchiha, did you do all your tasks already if you have time to chat?” He raised a brow.

“Leave me alone, Hatake, I swear.” She pushed away from Obito and followed Kakashi back on stage, gesturing wildly.

Obito sighed in relief to get rid of her. He turned back to Yamato, who was still a little red in his face. “Don’t mind her, she has a big mouth.” He clasped his hands together. “Though what she said is true. If- If you ever want to come over…”

“Oh.. uh,” Yamato looked at his shoelaces again and Obito too tried to look very concentrated to a point right over the other boy’s head. “If you want me to come over, sure.”

Then the image appeared in front of Obito’s eyes again, Yamato in his house, the shoulder touching, the hands touching, the faces touching… And with that the reality that he had tried so hard not to admit to himself in the past week was no longer something he could deny.

“I think I might have a crush on you.”

Yamato's eyes darted up: “What?”

Obito looked down at him: “What?”

“What do you mean by “crush”?”

His heart fell through his stomach down to the floor, crashing through the wood of the stage down into the cellar of the school never to be seen again. Obito had not noticed he had spoken out loud.

If he could have, he would have buried himself right there, but unfortunately real humans could not just vanish into thin air. “Uh, I didn’t want… I didn’t… want to.. I didn’t mean..”

“You didn’t mean it?” There was clearly hurt on Yamato’s face.

“No, no, that is not true ok, that is not true.” Obito was breathing heavily now. “I did!”

Obito was glad Sayuri was not around. She would have never stopped teasing him about this. Well, if he behaved like an idiot then surely he was in love. At least he knew that for a fact now. He had been exactly the same way around Rin. Of course he had hoped he would have matured out of this, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

Yamato took a step forward and Obito instinctively wanted to take a step back, to put more space between them, but the other boy caught his wrist.

“I think I might like you too, Uchiha-san.”

Despite being buried under the cellar of the school, Obito’s heart somehow returned to him, pulsing fast blood through his veins. Endorphins exploded in his brain.

“Obito,” he said and took Yamato’s hand with his. “Call me Obito.”

They held onto each other for a moment, both their hands sweaty with nerves but nto caring about how weird that was.

Yamato smiled again, that half moon, bright sun smile of his that Obito loved so much: “Tenzo.”

They shook hands like businessmen, then laughed together.

Not knowing what to do next, the two boys stood next to each other for a while saying nothing, then Yamato spoke up: “I heard 2-F is doing some kind of cafe. Do you want to go see it with me?” He didn’t look Obito in the eyes.

“Absolutely. We can look at the entire festival together if you like.” Obito grinned now too.

That was sort of like a real date, the first one he ever had in his life. And he was so glad that the person he was going to have it with was someone as handsome, smart and kind as Tenzo.

#fanfiction things #obym #obiyama #yamaobi #uchiha obito #yamato tenzou #nisi follower celebration #oc: sayuri #i guess anyway here goes nothing gil im sorry if thats lame or whatevs

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zilveed · 4 months

Text

Authors note:

Tristan and Abood are friends of ours. all Chapters have a different author. This started off as a joke, a friend asked me to write something about 'm and since I saw a great way to bully the both of them, I took it. Quickly got passed around the friendgroup. "double it and give it to the next person" with that being said. Goodluck getting through this 💀

(Chaptor 1) Snap out of it.

Author: Zilveed

Loud footsteps echo through the school hallway as Tristan makes his way towards colourless. He's fed up with the situationship. He wants him for himself and he wants him now.

"So yeah, that's all." Colourless said as he smiles sheepishly, staring at the ground. Issa smiles back at him. His hand gently going up to cup his face for a small second. tenderly putting a strand of hair behind the twink's ear.

Colourless go's red as he stammer out." O-oh thank you. I didn't notice there was a h-"

Having watched and heard everything from afar Tristan comes storming in. Absolutely fuming. "We need to talk. Now." he demands. Colourless jumps up slightly as issa raises an eyebrow at Tristan. Why did he have to ruin the moment? "Yo calm down Tris." he exclaims. "We were having a-"

"I don't give two fucks about what *you* were doing!" He jabs his finger in issa's chest. "I'm here for what's mine." With out another word or warning colourless find him self being dragged away, Tristans grip on his wrist firm, leading the way.

"Trist-" Colourless says, being rudely cut off. "Shut up!" As Tristan pushes the storage closet open throwing colourless in. "Abood how are you this oblivious?! You let other man flirt with you all the fucking time and you seem oblivious to their intention!" He yells. "It's almost like you ignore what we've got going on! Why?! Am I not good enough!? Do I have t-" *nghf* suddenly he feels something on his lips.

"Shut up." Colourless exclaimed. "No I'm not going to!" letting out a annoyed sigh. Why does he always complain? Not today. "Then I'll just make you shut up Colourless takes control of the situation. As he pushes him against the wall, his tounge fiercefully fighting his. Tristan gives in easily. This was al he wanted after all. He wanted him, so so badly for so long now.

Breaking the kiss suddenly. he forces colourless on his knees. He quickly whips it out. "fucking suck, like the dirty femboy you are." Colourless looks up a little flustered. "And what if I don't?" *slap* colourless head flies to the side for a second. "Don't talk back to me. Fucking suck." He demands again.

Reluctantly colourless starts slow, using his hands to tease a little. Not wanting to give in to his demands just now. After a few seconds he slowly starts to lick. Tristans head flicks back as he covers his mouth. "Fuck" hey moans and groans under his breath. His hands find his way to his hair as he grabs hold of it. Guiding him and abusing his throat to his liking.

Something about this was increadibly thrilling. The fear of getting caught is only turning them on even more. With out warning, Tristan combust back in the throat of colourless. "Swallow bitch there's people starving in Africa." Colourless spits it out. "No Fuck you. Maybe don't look so eager next time and then I'll reconcider."

Dissapointed Tristan sighs "Oh my fucking God. You're so frustrating." Colourless wiped his mouth before standing up. "Take it out on me later. I have a date with issa after this."

(chapter 2)

Author: Raymond

Bisexual? bipolar? nah, by himself.

Colourless got home and went straight to the bathroom. Quickly undressing himself, before jumping in to the shower to clean himself.

Thoroughly scrubbing himself to get rid Tristan’s perfume and the oder left behind on his body. All he wanted was to be clean and fresh for his hallway crush. The one who treated him so gently , showing genuine interest. Issa. He came out as gay, not too long ago after his breakup with his toxic ex Christina. Colourless kept humming and singing while cleaning himself up. His smile going from ear to ear. Finally, after he got out the shower, quickly drying off and picking his best clothes. He does his hair and gets in the car driving to a costa coffee in the erea as they were boycotting starbucks.

Finally having arrived colourless walked and saw issa from a far. BUT, before he could wave or say anything to him. He saw issa speaking to someone else. a girl, his ex. As colourless got closer and closer. As he hears them a lot clearer, whilst approaching. “Im so happy to have you back Christina” issa spoke. Sounding sincere, holding her hand tight.

Aboods heart sank to the depth of his ass crack almost escaping through it, “im gonna go hang out with my friend in a bit. The dude thinks its a date, but im just using him for his money and running” He laughed. But. Colourless started to tear up. Tears slowly began forming in hjs eyes as he began running, sprinting even back out the door. Untill he gets in his car. Issa not noticing a thing.

Colourless began hitting his hands repeatedly on the steering wheel, his tears still flowing out of his eyes “Once again! Stabbed in the back.” he says hyperventilating for air as he desperately tried to breath, but the tears and sobbing stopping him from being able to get a full breath of fresh air. It feels like hours have passed as his hands begin throbbing. manyT tears had been shed to the point it left a marks on his face. Finally deciding to drive home, he put his phone on the mount and turned on his gps. He's in the midst of looking up a new location for the gps, when Tristan sent him a message inviting him over. "I know you had a date planned, but I think I'm more important." Colourless who was emotionally fucked at the time, changed his gps'ses location to Tristan’s and drove.

Tristan began preparing the room’s atmosphere. Lighting up scented candles and dimming the lights. After an hour of preparation he finally went and got ready.

Colourless arrived shortly after and leaped into Tristans arms, tears began flowing again as he cried and wept. Tristan sushed him and let him to the shower, slowly undressing him on the way there. "I know ya way to destress, Darling. Leave it to me.'

They finally got under the shower, Tristan’s member rubbing on colourless back making him groan, feeling exited and eager. Tristan then grabbed his member and sticks it in his ass as deep as he could. The shower which had felt so cold a moment ago now felt like a furnace to colourless. Tristan began stroking colourless his member. With the other hand he began pinching dooba’s nipple. Gently moving in and out as to not hurt him too much. pain slowly began turning to pleasure and colourless went from screaming to moaning louder and louder before letting out a load from all the stoking. His poor member had to go through so much. Walmart Harry Potter than turned the twink around, colourless who had just gone through post nut clarity, had finally realised what he was doing and his face turned bright red. Covering his face in one swift motion as to not see anything that was happening,but certainly feeling it though.

Having noticed this, Tristan lifts the twink up by his hips each step taken, making his member go in an out making dooba squeal in pleasure, tightening up even more in the process. Finally reaching the bed he put dooba down in such a way that they were in doggy style and began roughing dooba’s ass cheeks up as he vigorously humped and fucked his anal hole showing no mercy to any part of his body, wet, afraid and aroused.

The slapping awakened a new thing in colourless having never felt such painful pleasure before. He didn’t know wether to enjoy it or to refuse it, but after the third slap things became clear. Pain had turned to pleasure and he began tightening up even more.

Tristan turned colourless his face and started making out, exploring each other’s mouths with their tongues like never before. Reaching territories they didn’t even know they had in their mouths. Feeling that he was about to let out the best load of his life Tristan broke the kiss and screamed his love for colourlrss before letting it all out inside. Emedietely passing out beside colourless who was also worn out and feel asleep shortly after. Not even attempting to cover up or to clean up after themselfs.

(Chapter 3) How to make it worse

Author: Robert

With the sun rising, shining brightly through the crack of the black, now parshially white blinds. There lated the couple. A twink and a whining bitch, together under the blankets spooning.

Tristan slowly started to wake up from his peacefull slumber. He looked over his twink, colourless. Fast asleep cuddled up in his arms.

A slight groan escaping his mouth, caused by all the sore muscles, from last night's tough tryst.

"Goodmorning beautfuls." He spoke softly in colourless his ear. He gently kisses and licks his neck. Colourless waking up from his deep sleep due to the effection. A small moan escapes his lips as Tristans lips trail down his neck. Yawning ever so slightly he replies. "Morning Pookie." Colourless says

Pushing his hips back ever so slightly against Tristans growing bulge. "Naughty slut" Tristan growls in his ear. "Why do you have to be so rough all the time?" Colourless complains, those complains quickly turning into groans and moans as his voice becomes strained. Meanwhile Tristan is trying to spread open colourless his hamburgers, to prep him for insertion. Trying to cook. Something he can't do in games, because of his high ping that he loves to mention.

Right before Tristan was able to have another steaming love session with his colourless. He was rudely interrupted...

A loud scratching sound could be heard at the door. "Ahwe man. I was just about to get impregnated" Colourless his smile can be detected in his complaint. "oh Fuck off" Tristan says as he smacks colourless his ass so hard he got send back to his own home. Mad Tristan goes out of bed to take a shower. When all of the memories of recent events came flooding into mind...

(Chapter 4) Jealousy?

Author: Suga

Tristan could still faintly feel colorless warmth at the tip of his fingers. He could feel the warmth radiating of his body, a disparity to the cold emptiness that filled Tristan’s house. Tristan had closed his eyes in order to savor the moment, as the shower water dripped to the floor in a systemic pattern.

On the other side of the door, lay colorless as he remained still in the bed, chest heaving up and down as his sweat stuck onto to his skin. His mind flashes back to their one night stand?

Is this even a one night stand anymore?...

They both screamed their love out for each other but was it just in the heat of the moment kind of thing? Does colourless even like Tristan in that way…

He doesn’t know anymore.

The shower was turned off and soon came out Tristan in a towel covering his lower half while water was dripping down his hair. Colourless found that extremely hot. He shamelessly kept staring at Tristan as he changed into sweats and a shirt.

“Like what you see?” Tristan teased and gave him a wink

“Hell yea” Colourless bursts out with red dusted on his cheeks as he lets out a giggle.

Tristan stared at him with down casted eyes, which turned colorless on, he was about to speak when the door bell started ringing again with much more urgency. Tristan groaned as he sped walk to the door, fixing his disheveled hair.

As Tristan opened the door, he dreaded as a familiar face came into view.

“Chaos?” Tristan was beyond pissed. His eyes bore into chaos’ brown eyes, showing pure distaste. Chaos cowered in fear but managed to let out a sentence, “hey,” he started, “can we talk?”

“I have nothing to talk with you about.”

Tristan spoke sternly.

“Please just for 5 minutes,” chaos pleaded. Tristan gave in as he widened the door and chaos nervously walked inside. Chaos sat on the coach as he fiddled with his fingers before mustering up the courage to look at Tristan again.

Tristan stood tall as he crossed his arms and glared down at him. “Well?”

“Let’s get back together” chaos determinedly stared at his eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” chaos took a deep breath in before he continued, “Look, I know we ended things horribly but I want to fix it, don’t you see we belong with each other?”

Tristan let out a laugh which led to chaos glaring at him, “pfft, you love me? Yea ok what else”

“How can you just forget about our whole relationship like that? After all those dates, meetings with our parents, the convincing it took for them to finally accept us. I treated you better like no man could ever. We need each other. The whole world wanted us together” chaos waited for a response and Tristan didn’t give any. Chaos grabbed his chin, turning Tristan to face him.

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening. I tune out bullshit. It’s a medical condition” Tristan spoke nonchalantly.

The next thing he knew, his face flew off to the side, a burning sensation arose in his left cheek and a mark was growing. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Tristan exclaimed, “you were the one cheating on me you slut. Get out of my house”

“It was a mistake!” Chaos panted as he let out a shout, his eyes bristling with tears, “You are the only one I want. Please take me back” he grabs Tristan’s hand but Tristan yanks it away.

“I don’t want you near me anymore” Tristan sternly spoke and he ruffled his own hair, looking away from him.

“I will show you that I’m your true love,” chaos shifted as his eyes darkened, “mark my words” chaos took a step closer to Tristan and grabs his shirt.

He pulls Tristan to him and their lips connect. Chaos roughly kisses him In a desperate need, eyes closed and hand still grasped onto Tristan shirt. The Tristan was too stunned to speak! Eyes widening by each second that passes, he soon comes to a realization and pushes chaos away and wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

“I told you get the fuck out of my house you creep I don’t want to be near you” Tristan yelled and he shoves chaos aside like a rag doll. Chaos's eyes were brimming with tears as he runs away.

Tristan grips his hair and picks up a nearby glass and throws it against the wall. He dramatically falls into the couch, manspreading as he breaths heavily. Head down, both hands gripping on his hair. His sobs echoed through the silent room. Tears brimming down his cheeks. He bites his lip in frustration as past memories are brought up again.

All while this was happening, colourless went through Tristan’s closet and grabbed shorts and a t shirt before shakily walking to his staircase. His legs felt painful each step but he fought through it. Just before he walked into the living room, he heard loud shouting. He peaks through the wall but what he saw before him made his heart drop 6ft under like all the characters from cyberpunk.

Colourless silently gasps as he puts his hand over his mouth and leans into the wall. His heart was beating so fast and he didn’t know why. It’s not like he likes him or anything. They are just friends with benefits? So why is his heart hurting so damn much seeing them that close it’s not like they’re dating.

He was deep into his thoughts when a door slammed broke him out of it, he jiggled peaked through the wall to see Tristan throwing a glass cup and sitting down on the couch. The noise caused him to flinch.

Colourless slowly walked closer to Tristan afraid to scare him and gently touched his shoulder.

“Hey are you ok” a frown itches on colourless face.

Tristan hovered over colourless, his hands gripping his bare shoulders with a strength that bordered on desperation.

Tears streaked down his face, his sobs hitching between each breath as he looked into his eyes with a mixture of anguish.

The scintillating sunlight filtered through the window, casting an ethereal glow upon them, illuminating the tear tracks that marred his once immaculate face.

His breaths came in ragged gasps each one hitching with the weight of his sorrows.

Tristan’s gaze bore into colourless, searching for solace amidst the storm of emotions raging within him.

His face bore mute evidence to the conflict that engulfed him, showing lines of misery engraved upon them that said volumes.

Colourless could feel the intensity of his touch, the strength of Tristan’s grip as he sought to anchor himself in his presence.

In spite of the tears that stained his cheeks, there was a raw vulnerability in his gaze and it was a plea for his acceptance.

Tristan’s face grimaced before a sudden shift in his aura. He looks at colourless with a tear stained face as he grabs his wrist and drags him back to his room.

Tristan shoves colourless against the bed room door in a feral matter. Colourless felt his head hit the back of the door. His vision turned blurry and white for a split second, as colourless tried to register the figure that was currently pressing his body against his. Colourless extracted his hand to him, but Tristan grabs both wrist with one hand and swiftly raises them above him, restricting his movements. The more colourless moved, the tighter the hold got.

Colourless vision had just barely cleared up when he realized Tristan looming over him, with his hands hovering over his throat.

Colourless eyes widened as he stared into Tristan’s face, but his stomach churned when he lowered himself to him. He gently squeezed his throat with his shaky hands before he squeezed more roughly.

Their lips connect in a fierce battle, Tristan still gripping onto his neck. Colourless back arches at their friction yearning for more. Suddenly Tristan squeezed his neck more harshly restricting most of his airflow but not enough to kill him.

Colorless let out a gasp mid make out session which gave Tristan the opportunity to force his tongue into colourless mouth. In a hungry manner, he hardened the kiss as his tongue grabs his and suck in motion, exploring every crevice and corner of each other’s mouths with greed that could not be denied.

The world around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of them suspended in a moment of pure intimacy.

Soon enough the heat was overbearing, both hurriedly disregarded their clothes and colourless wrapped his legs around Tristan’s waist, lips never once leaving each other.

Tristan maneuvered through his room, carrying the light man. Colourless felt a cold sensation as he was pressed against a window. He lets out a soft gasp and slightly turns his head to look at the outside.

With the contrast of the cool window against colourless warm flesh sent a wave of sensation through him, heightening every touch, every caress.

Tristan glares up at him as he pushes him more against the window, entrapping colourless. He angles himself as he enters colourless roughly without giving him a warning. Colourless wailed at the pain and drops his head onto Tristan bare shoulder blade. His breath hitches at the contact, pain soon turned into pleasure.

Tristan grabs his chin, forcing him to face him. With down casted eyes, his eyes seemed darker even though the sun was illuminating his smooth skin. Tristan grew closer to his ear, blowing on it before speaking.

“I want the whole world to see me fucking you mercilessly you got that slut?” Tristan’s voice deepens as he pushes himself deeper which provoked a loud moan from colourless.

When colourless didn’t reply, Tristan slapped him across the face.

“Y-yes, YES!” Colourless weeped out as he leans his head back against the hard glass. Nails penetrating through Tristan’s skin in a feverish manner.

Tristan continued pouncing on him hitting the spot each time as his teeth dived for colourless canvas of a body, painting marks and marks.

“Show this to everyone that you are mine” Tristan growled #alphasigma #male #mpreg #omegaverse .

Colourless couldn’t even utter a word as his mouth was opened, tongue flinging out, moans and groans were only heard from him.

The sound of clapping and banging from the window were heard.

Tristan intensely strokes colourless member causing it to twitch and soon enough he loaded on Tristan’s hand. Tristan licks it off and began kissing colourless, both feeling his insides. Colourless body was squished against the glass, his sweat mixing with the cold window, causing it to condense.

Tristan breaks out of the kiss and lightly pants as he removes his dick out of colourless anal, causing colourless to let out a whine in protest.

Tristan’s penetrating gaze remained fixed on Colourless face, his eyes resemblance of burning coals, never wavering from his form. His stares were alight with desire.

Tristan lightly smirked at colourless needy face, “awww you want me that bad,” he teases as his finger caresses colourless jawline, his finger settling on his lower lip.

“Please,” colourless beg

“Please what?” Tristan demanded

“Please give me more,” colourless continue begging as he entangles his hand on Tristan’s locks, lightly grabbing it which stimulated something inside Tristan.

Tristan’s movements were almost feral as he pushed colourless onto the bed, making his back sink into the soft mattress.

As Tristan’s touch trailed along colourless body, a rush of heat began to spread through him, awakening a paramount desire within him.

Colourless eyes, filled with a merging of dazed passion and tenderness, locked onto his with an intensity that matched his own.

Tristan who had already made his way to stand beside the bed, grabbed a silver, restraining device.

Tristan hovered over colourless like a predator poised to pounce and took his hands retraining him to the headboard and locking it tightly. He grinned as his gaze pierced through colourless lustful eyes, mouth slightly ajar.

Tristan didn’t squander any more time.

With his weight pressing down against his, he captured his lips in a hungry kiss, his mouth ravaging his with a fervor that left them both breathless.

Their kisses were a symphony of hankering and thirst that each touch emanates from Tristan was transmitting a vibration down onto colourless entire body.

The soft sounds that escaped their lips reverberates the intensity of their ardor, wetting both their mouths with the mingling of their saliva.

Colourless moaned softly as Tristan’s lips captured his tongue once again, their tongues dancing in a sensual duel for dominance. Despite colourless efforts, Tristan always seemed to have the upper hand, his passion consuming him in ways he had never imagined.

Trailing a path of soft, wet kisses, Tristan’s lips traveled along colourless jawline. His untamed breath mingled with his whilst his free hand found its way to his neck.

With a skillful hand, he caressed and squeezed him, eliciting soft gasps and moans of pleasure from colourless lips. Colourless tugged on the handcuffs feeling a discomforting burning sensation on his wrist which enticed him more.

Tristan savored his scent, the intoxicating aroma of his pheromones driving him wild with desire.

His body throbbed with anticipation and his heart pounding with a rhythm that echoed the pounding waves against the shore.

With a fluid, dexterous movement, Tristan rose and positioned himself to colourless anal. With a skillful touch, he guided him to spread them wider, ensuring he had complete seize of his body.

Colourless loudly moaned as he felt every inch of Tristan in him.

“I won’t stop until I release no matter how much you begged me to stop” colourless shuddered under Tristan watchful gaze, knowing he was serious.

Colourless felt pathetic being restricted, eyes rolling back as his head was dug into the pillow beneath him. He yelped and moaned in pleasure. His wrists were probably bruised by now.

Tristan kept one hand on his neck the other on the member all while pounding on him like a mad man which drove colourless insane.

With a silent prayer, colourless surrendered himself completely to Tristan. His body and soul intertwining with his in a dance of love and desire that transcended time and space.

(Chapter 5) The lost memory

Author: Christina

Colorless woke up from his deep slumber in a room he only knew soo well, his head and ass throbbing. He held his head with his hands, not having any memory of what happened last night. He tried sitting up but he was suddenly hit with a sharp pain all over his back. Colorless thought to himself “what happened last night”.

As he was lost in his thoughts, he turned to look next to him and realized that his pookie wasn’t next to him, but what he saw made him remember all of the monstrosities that took place in that very bed that he slept peacefully not long ago.

All the memories came flooding back just like how his ass got flooded last night. His face turned as red as his ass cheeks (Tristan marked his territory on colorless’s ass).

As colorless gained his composer, he was confused as to where his alpha went when all of a sudden, a very naughty idea popped into his head, a naughty idea that was on how to get back at Tristan for breaking his back. He swiftly picked up his phone, excited on what events will take place that night.

Tristans Side

He got up early to meet with Chaos, even though he didn’t want to leave colorless alone in bed after how rough he was with him last night, but he had no other choice as Chaos blackmailed him. He sighed in defeat as he got ready and left to meet up with him.

“So I see that u had quite a fun time after I left.” Chaos claimed after seeing the marks on Tristan’s neck, covered in bite marks and hickeys. “I don’t have to tell you anything. Anyways, get to the point, u dragged me here for a reason and I don’t have time to play your stupid games so make this quick.” Tristan crossed his arms over one another while looking away from Chaos’s gaze.

“What would you like to order? May I interest you in our breakfast menu for a start?” The waiter asked, breaking the awkward silence, there was obvious tension between the two of them. “No thank you, I’ll just have orange juice.” Tristan told the waiter. “I’ll have whatever His Grace will have.” Chaos smirked teasingly at Tristan, his face getting red in anger at what Chaos said. “Alright, that will be coming in just a moment.”

“What the fuck was that?!” Tristan yelled, no longer able to hold his anger. “Calm your balls down young man. It was just a joke don’t get soo worked up over it. Anyways since you don’t have time to talk, I’ll get straight to the point. Im not okay with you going out with colorless… If you guys are even a couple that is…. Or maybe, you are just fuck buddies.” Tristan was gritting his teeth, holding back from just lunging over to punch Chaos’s smug look off his face. “Struck a nerve did i? Anywho, you probably know what about to say but I’ll make myself clear. Stay away from him, you are mine and only mine. Don’t forget the promise you made a long long time ago, and that one video of you-“ “DON’T YOU DARE BRING UP THAT VIDEO, I WISH I CAN JUST PUNCH THE SHIT OUT OF YOU RIGHT NOW UGH” Tristan interrupted Chaos as he stood up and walked away from the table.

All while this was unfolding, Issa witnessed all of that go down. He quickly made a phone call and left before anyone spotted him.

Back to the present

Colorless finally received the order than he paid for in the morning. He smirked to himself and he set everything up and got ready. “Today will be a fun day.”

He took out his phone and called “My alpha skibidi uwu >////<”, he wanted to know what time he will be home so he can get his plan ready on time.

Ring ring ring……. “…..” “H-hello…?” Colorless says as he was shy talking to him. “What do you want.” Tristan the Alpha said in an abrupt way. “O-o-oh… I just wanted to know what time you’re coming back so I can cook us a meal….” Colorless trailed off. “….. I’ll be back in around 2 hours.” “O-okay @///@ ….. See you when you get back home!” Tristan ended the call. Colorless looked at the screen of his phone, seeing his reflection as his phone turned off.

He thought to himself “He’s acting weird today…. Did I do something to upset him? No I shouldn’t think of that right now, I should execute the plan before he gets back.”

Colorless starting unboxing the contents that were inside of the package that he ordered. He hid them under the bed as he took out the two special items that he was anticipating for. Aphrodisiac dark chocolate and pheromones perfume.

As soon at Tristan walks through the door, the smell of burgers was making his stomach growl (Tristan is the only one who can growl since he is the only Alpha Sigma -///-). He followed the smell to see colorless wearing an apron, his back facing Triston. He walked up to colorless, hugging him tight while burying his head into colorless’s neck.

“W-w-w-what are you doing babe?” Colorless asked, flustered. “Why do you smell so sexy today…. Why today.” Tristan said while taking big sniffs of his neck, kissing him and leaving bite marks all over him. “Nghhhh~ not now, the food is still not don- mmmmm~~” Colorless wasn’t able to complete his sentence as Tristan sucked on his neck, hard. “I wont be eating the food you cooked for lunch, I’ll be eating you.” Tristan growled. Colorless blushed soo hard as he turned off the gas as to not burn the food.

Tristan pins colorless onto the kitchen countertop, kissing his lips passionately and at the same time, kissing him roughly. He trails his tongue back to colorless’s neck, sucking and kissing him. Colorless moans louder and louder with every kiss. “W-w-wait!! Before we continue, I have a gift for you.” Colorless exclaimed as he grabbed Tristan’s shoulders, pushing him away gently as he was still kissing his neck. “Can’t the gift wait for after we are done…. I really can’t wait.” Tristian says, looking up at colorless as he was still doing his thing. “It really can’t wait…” Colorless says as he slipped away from Tristan’s grip. “Don’t be mad, but this is a special chocolate that I know you will enjoy very much if you know what I mean.” Colorless explains as he took out the chocolate from the drawer where he hid them safely. “Are you serious… chocolate to make me horny?” Tristan snarls at him. “It will be worth it don’t worry, it won’t give you diarrhea like all the other chocolates normally do so you have nothing to worry about.”

Colorless says as he put the chocolate in his mouth while walking up to Tristan, never breaking eye contact. He inches closer to Tristan, now pining him to the kitchen countertop, he leaned in to kiss Tristan, feeding him the other half of the chocolate through the kiss. Tristan pulls away from the kiss to eat the chocolate. “Bold move coming from you. I like that, you naughty little sausage.” Tristan says as he smirks at colorless, looking at him as if he is a snack. Colorless giggled when he heard Tristan saying that.

Colorless looked away for a second when all of a sudden, Tristan picks up colorless soo effortlessly, kissing him while making his way towards the bed room. Gasping for air, colorless smirks “Looks like the chocolate is already kicking in.” “Oh shut up already.” Tristan says as he threw colorless onto the bed.

Colorless tries to get up but Tristan grabbed his arms and pinned them on top of his head. “Where do you think you’re running of to little birdie?” “N-n-n-nowhere! But I want you to look under the bed, there is a box with some stuff I bought for us to use.” Colorless says as he looked away, trying to hide his flustered look away from Tristan. He got up and looked under the bed and took out the box.

“A rose toy, a gag choker, handcuffs, nipple clips and strawberry shortcake flavored lube? Oh I see what’s going on.” Tristan says as he unloads all of these toys onto the bed. He picks up the handcuffs and grabbed colorless’s hands and cuffed them together. “Now your hands can’t trail off anywhere while we are having fun.” Next he grabs the rose toy to inspect it, there was a remote next to it.

“Guess you are going to find out how well this will work.” He smirks as he started taking off colorless’s pants. “W-w-w-wait! Give me a minute to-“ He was interrupted but a slap to his face. “Since when does the little beta tell me what to do?!” Tristan growls angrily at colorless as he got turned on by that slap. Everything that usually brings pain suddenly feels good and is turning him on.

I guess I’ll be buying more of these chocolates.

Tristan spreads colorless’s legs open, opening the remarkable amazing, spectacular ass crack which has been busted the other night. Tristan grabs the lube and puts it all over his beta’s crack. The cold sensation of the lube made colorless moan softly. ”Oh you won’t be soo loud today.” Tristan says as he took the gag choker and placed it right onto colorless’s mouth. He looked at the scene in front of him, a scene which he had only ever imagined in his wet dreams. He got very turned on.

He didn’t spare a moment and put the little pickle into colorless’s hole, making him jerk and the sudden intrusion, but he moaned through the gag choker. Tristan thrusting deeper and deeper with every second, huffing and puffing like an alpha wolf when mating.

“Don’t you think im forgetting something? All of these stuff that you bought and you won’t feel the pleasure of every single one of them? Well let’s not let them go to waste now.” Tristan said, not breaking his momentum just like CBAT. He grabbed the nipple clips and handed them over to colorless. “Put them on.” Colorless got embarrassed, not wanting to do it himself, he shook his head, trying to hand the nipple clips back to Tristan but he growled back at Colorless. “Oh no you won’t. You are the one to put them not me. And don’t you dare try to make this mistake again or daddy will be angry.”

Colorless complies, with his hands still in cuffs, he tries to put the clips on when suddenly he felt another object going inside him. He jolted his head back, tears welling up in his eyes. Tristan took the remote and turned on the rose toy. Colorless couldn’t hold back his moans and started moaning uncontrollably. His moans could be heard through the gag.

“Fuck I’m about to buss.” Tristan whimpers. His thrusts going faster and faster as he was about to arrive. Colorless was close to the finish race as well. They busted a nut at the same time, Tristan let out an audible moan as he came, he took out his cucumber and removed the gag from colorless’s mouth. He proceeded to let out more of his juices inside of his mouth. “Don’t forget, this is not the first rodeo. Now swallow my children or ill impregnate you.” “Y-y-yes daddy” Colorless choked out as tears were rolling down his cheeks (not his other cheeks). His mouth wide open waiting for his masters juices to fill his mouth.

“Who’s your daddy?” Tristan demands. “Y-y-you are.” “Say it!” SMACKS COLORLESS’S ASS CHEEKS “YOU ARE MY DADDY. TRISTAN IS MY DADDY” Colorless yelps as the shock waves of the smack flowed all over his body. “Good boy. Now take my nut like a champ.” Tristan says as he busted a nut right onto Colorless’s mouth and all over his face. He swallowed all of it while still maintaining eye contact with the Daddy.

“This is not over.” Tristan says as he flipped Colorless onto his stomach, doggy style. “There is still a long time ahead of us, this will take a while.”...

TO BE CONTINUED.

#Mpreg #Mlm #joke #Friend #Fw #Twisless

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