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usedpidemo · 7 months

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Mistakes were made, but not you (Le sserafim Yunjin)

“Why? Why weren’t you there? I needed you and you weren’t there!”

While Yunjin lashes out at you, grabbing at your shirt and using you as a proxy for the world and its ill-timed misfortunes, you can’t help but wonder if your presence would have changed the situation for the better.

Probably not. It’s one of those events that has to happen for character growth.

—————

Tonight is supposed to be a night of celebration—a commemoration to the achievements, accomplishments, and accolades of the past year. The numbers and statistics never lie. They love her work, they love her artistry. They love her for what she sells and what she represents. But truth be told, Huh Yunjin couldn’t care less about what they think.

Thunderous cheers and colorful lightsticks representing different fandoms brighten the arena as the five Le sserafim members climb up the stairs to claim their award. Minutes ago, they pulled off the performance of a lifetime—an eight minute masterclass that represents everything the group stands for. You could see the exhaustion in their faces; barely mustering the strength to smile and wave to the crowd shouting for them.

For the most part, the acceptance speech is nothing notable. Going through the motions, thanking the fans, the staff, the company, promising to do better in the future—it’s about as cookie cutter as it gets. As Yunjin tries her hardest to keep her tears from falling while she talks, the other four can only focus on her with varying weary looks. Chaewon looks especially worried; it’s her responsibility and burden to look after every single one of them.

From the audience’s viewpoint, it’s seen as a non-issue, but the five girls recognize deep down it’s anything but. The only noteworthy thing is how suddenly quick they are on their feet heading backstage. It’s funny how everyone chases fame: to be in the moment, the spotlight. It’s funnier, Yunjin thinks, that she’d rather be anywhere else.

Unfortunately for her and the other artists attending, they’d have to wait a little longer. There’s backstage interviews and other idol obligations to do before they are finally let go. It’s not even worth all that lost time—that one award they receive ends up being their lone win for the night.

—————

Yunjin storms into your hotel room without a word with a fierce expression on her face. She doesn’t have to say it; she’s thankful she doesn’t have to spend another minute in front of the cameras, another minute being an idol—at least for the night.

In a sea of anger and auburn, Yunjin walks past you without acknowledging you at least once. She hastily drops off her purse on the coffee table before charging straight to her room and slamming the door. It’s easy to chalk up her frustrations on the monotony of the awards season—the countless hours of practice specifically for one event, the hours spent in the makeup room, the hours of interviews and fanservice—but you know she never acts like this. Rain or shine, hell or high water, she’ll walk around with a pleasant smile on her face.

Tonight simply isn’t one of those nights. You saw the whole ordeal happen in real time, and you’re already regretting the decision not to be there. At times, watching her on screen was tough. You can tell she was visibly uncomfortable, more clingy to her members than usual, when it’s normally the other way around. Admittedly, you have to give her props for holding herself back from crying when she has every right to. It’s a cold winter night, but that’s not the reason she’s trembling and shaking. It should be a night of celebration; instead, her sullen expression resembles the aftermath of complete, utter humiliation and defeat.

And it may as well be. You look through your phone; you find the messages from friends and acquaintances telling you the exact same thing; it might as well be considered spam.

> Yo did you see what happened to Yunjin?

> Is Yunjin okay?!

> Yunjin fell! Fuck MNET!

> BRO YUNJIN FELL FROM THE STAGE WHAT THE FUUUUCK—

> Don’t tell her but I actually laughed when she slipped XD hope she alright tho!

Of course you know. It’s all caught on camera and in living color for the whole world to see. Even if it was cut from the YouTube edit, which is highly unlikely, it’s already out there on the internet spreading like wildfire. Numerous reposts with tens of thousands of likes, multiple articles immediately written after the incident—her name and her moment will remain immortalized in K-pop history for all the wrong reasons. It has the internet making jokes, it has the internet writing thinkpieces, it has the internet creating needless fanwars—it has the internet buzzing.

You want to throw your phone from where your room is located—all the way up on the 27th floor—and pray it lands directly on a hater’s head.

Sure enough, when you try to enter her room, it’s locked shut. The door won’t budge. All this awkward, quiet tension between you is terrifying, and sleeping her feelings off isn’t going to help anyone, not during these trying times. She needs comfort right now more than anything else.

You give the door a respectful knock, only to be met with silence. Trying again and again leads you nowhere. Calling her name does you zero favors. Each futile attempt cuts away at your heart, little by little. Yunjin would rather isolate herself from the world than open up to anyone with no exceptions. Obviously, you have nothing to do with what happened (that is on the production team more than anyone) but you bear the responsibility and burden of being Yunjin’s partner, always there for her during the good times and the bad.

Now is not the time to give up or sulk. She needs comfort and love more than anything. She needs a shoulder to cry on. She needs a special voice to reassure her that everything will be okay.

Rummaging through her purse, you find one of her countless hairpins. It’s the oldest trick in the book—one that she always used to get you with guaranteed success. Already bent and straightened, perfectly shaped for picking—it’s as if she wanted you to reach her. You remember the disaster that was teaching you how to pick locks; dozens destroyed, to the dismay of her apartment doors, but she knew you’d need it at some point, and tried to help you to the best of her ability.

The lock comes undone. It’s a miracle, but it’s short-lived. What welcomes you as you enter her bedroom turns your uncertainty into shock and utter disbelief.

It’s imagery you only see in nightmares. Her bedroom completely ravaged and in utter ruin. Pillows, clothes, and objects scattered throughout the room. Yunjin is curled up against the wall with a blanket draped over her, concealing everything but her eyes. Bloodshot red from spilling her heart out. Around her feet lay two opened half empty bottles of alcohol and a spilled over wine glass. It takes everything not to drop to your knees or yell out “fuck” from the depth of your lungs.

Instead, it only comes out as an airy whimper, with your throat choked up seeing the sorry state your girlfriend’s in.

Every little step you take may as well be tiptoed. Carefully treading into uncharted territory, who knows what you’ll end up meeting. The next words you pick will be the most important ones you’ll ever say. It isn’t as simple as telling her everything will be fine—that mistakes happen, life moves on, and this will be a memory she can laugh at a few years from now. She believes she’s ruined not only her career, but also her members, when anyone with common sense thinks otherwise.

With a deep breath and a gulp of your throat, you run through all the options. You pray you make the best choice.

“Jen Jen,” you mumble, crouching down in front of her, frowning. Try as you might, you can’t bring yourself to smile. You reach your hand out to peek through the curtain; she aggressively slaps down your palm. It’s as dire as you believe it looks. She sees the world crashing down before her.

Watching her cry and hide herself away plucks away at your heartstrings. You don’t want to see her looking this sorry, this deflated. If her members—the people she’s closest with—couldn’t get through her, then how much less can you? Even so, you have to keep trying. Not as a fan nor an acquaintance, but as her partner.

Again, you’ll have to pick your way through another lock. This time, her heart. And it’s more delicate than any physical door.

She’s drowning in her tears to realize the tug on her wrists. Little by little, you pull them apart. Yunjin’s bloodshot eyes glare right into yours, but she does nothing. Slowly, you curl your arms around hers, reaching around her back. For a moment, she appears vulnerable. Open. You press yourself close to her—

And then she hits you square in the face.

Yunjin assaults you with a relentless barrage of fists, with one jab directly clocking your lips. They’re not the playful ones you’re used to. The kind that’s usually thrown after a serious argument, and you’ve only experienced a handful of squabbles. She sends you staggering back to the floor, violently screeching and attacking you. “Fuck you! Leave me alone!” she yells, punching you repeatedly with no sense of direction, only rage. You try to lift a hand in self-defense, only to be sent knocking down, to the point where you just give up and allow her to rip through you.

Looking into her eyes, having turned from grim to cruel, she looks as if you were there. As if you were the stage director. As if you were the one who pressed the button on the control panel. Her punches, aimless as they are, fucking hurt. You’re on the floor, defenseless, but you deserve it. You weren’t there when you should have been. The one award show you opt not to attend happens to be the one that ends up sideways. Of course she’ll pinpoint the cause back to you. That’s blind passion. That’s love.

She grabs you by the collar of your shirt, screaming right in your face, “Why? Why weren’t you there? I needed you and you weren’t there!” Angry as she is, you can tell she’s trying to restrain herself. She wants to humiliate you, but she also doesn’t want to smash your head through the marble floor. You have this ragged but innocent look on your face. The stubborn kind that would tell her that you won’t give up on her. That you’d happily take all the beating just to see her smile again.

As it turns out, all she really needs is an outlet to air out her emotions. She has moved past her tears, and she has stopped beating you down, but everything else still remains. The glare. The dour frown. The fingers gripped to your collar. The room is silent, with the only sound filling the air is your low, airy hush of “Sorry.” Your hand rubs against her arm, conveying a message of reassurance that everything’s going to be okay.

Yunjin freezes. Unsure of how she feels, unsure of what to do. The moment stretches beyond the perception of time. You end up getting caught unprepared by what happens.

She doesn’t apologize for throwing you to the floor and verbally and physically assaulting you. You don’t really mind. A kiss is more than enough of an apology. Even more when it’s passionate, humming into your mouth before letting her tongue slip right between your lips, and her hands now pressed to your cheek. Lovemaking is how she speaks to you. Her lips do most of the talking.

Her body does the rest.

Yunjin pushes you down to the floor. You watch her shed her leather jacket, in awe of her radiant beauty. Her skin is porcelain, gleaming from the bedroom light. She’s a star, and shines like one. The reverence soon turns to amusement, mostly at how nonchalant she’s behaving. Minutes ago, she was hostile, out of control, threatening to turn you into a ruined mess. Instead, she’s about to leave you a ruined heap, but in a different way.

She notices. She always does. Knows you like a book. She grins.

“You know I can’t be mad at you,” she says, lifting an eyebrow as she straddles on your lap. Smirking playfully, she’s making you double take and wonder if this was an elaborate ploy or if she was really upset. And if it’s the former, then you’d really feel betrayed and manipulated. “Sorry dear,” she adds, accompanied by a peck on your lips. “I know it’s not your fault nor mine, it’s just that we prepared so much and—”

“Don’t worry,” you interrupt, placing a hand on her bare shoulder, “I should have been there. I mean, what are the chances the one time I’m not there, this shit—”

“Shhh.” Yunjin plants a finger on your lips. “Babe shouldn’t worry about his Jen Jen’s performance. At least I looked cool falling, right?” she asks, both sweet and playful.

“Sure you did,” you chuckle, almost sucking on her fingertip as she points it directly at your lip. “Definitely the coolest fall I’ve ever seen. Will never be replicated. Ever. And I mean that.”

She laughs, heartily, even though she knows you’re flat out lying. “Yeah, because they won’t do stage designs like that ever again.” Then she kisses you again; she kisses you as if your lips are her lifeline. “I swear I’m gonna tell management not to do elevated stages when we go on tour!”

This is the Yunjin you know and love; the one that everyone knows her for. Laughs at her own jokes and her own mistakes, and smiles through it all. You’re amazed at how joined to the hip you both are when the cameras aren’t on. When you’re the only ones in the room—when she can truly be herself and not a fragmented version tailored to the public. You both have this special connection together that only you two can understand.

Her smile is so radiant, distracting even, that you recognize too little too late how tense you’re feeling.

“Jen Jen,” you tell her, looking down at her legs. She has a hand between her skirt, and her underwear is already partially down.

“What is it?”

“Can we take this somewhere else,” you tell her, flustered by your own request. There’s no skirting around the thought that you’d rather take her anywhere except for a cold floor in a messy bedroom. She hasn’t realized it yet, but you know Yunjin well; she would never let your imprints stick anywhere in her bedroom, hotel or her apartment, let alone make a mess. That, and for as much as you love the sight of her on top of you, you want to keep things on even footing—for now.

The expression she makes is priceless; it's all part of the charm. She rolls her eyes, scoffing at the thought, as if the very suggestion offends her. She takes a moment to let the notion sink in. “The audacity,” she thinks to herself, the idea seemingly harder to digest if anything else.

“You’re so unserious,” she comments, in the most blunt tone possible, it may as well be condescending. Her thighs press deeper into your jeans to further prove a point. If that’s what she wants., then you’re fine with that. It’s probably a better idea than yours, too. “You shitting me right now?”

“It couldn’t have hurt to ask.”

“Well it wouldn’t have hurt you to be here sooner,” she retorts, grinning, like those words are your biggest mistake. “Then maybe I would absolutely consider it.”

In reality, there’s nothing to consider, because you end up rolling on top of her after she first pounces on top of you. It’s how she usually greets you after a busy day: jumping straight into your arms, then it’s on to the bedroom.

But not tonight. You don’t make that far, just the table by the foyer, the chair she usually reads in, nearly tripping over the coffee table and landing somewhere more comfortable for you both in the living room. In your wake you leave behind a trail of clothes, yours and hers entangled together—mostly yours. It doesn’t take much to undress Yunjin when she’s dressed for the occasion, and by the time she’s halfway unbuttoning through your shirt, she’s on her knees, completely naked.

She kisses you, leaves strawberry marked lips on your tummy, looking so wanton, so needy. Your eyes follow along as she continues down to your pants, before looking up to you with doe-eyed curiosity. She’s got an edge to her, they say, which really just means, “she’s really fucking hot.” Everything about her, from the attitude to the wardrobe screams fierce, someone who knows what they’re doing and doesn’t care about what others say.

But behind closed doors, she’s more like the other girl you know. Someone she tends to look after. She looks vulnerable. It’s cute to watch her act like someone she’s not.

It’s impossible not to help yourself, to stroke your own ego, even at Yunjin’s expense. There’s no hiding that devilish grin; it’s way too obvious. Nodding, you brush your hand through her autumn colored locks as she undoes your jeans, reminding her who she really belongs to.

“Fuck—oh God—” you moan, allowing Yunjin to do what she does best: use her lips to praise your cock. No preamble, no foreplay—just immediately taking you straight into her mouth. You were already hard, so it doesn’t take much effort for her to swallow you up. Both of you using your pent up frustration and impatience after weeks where it seemed as if you were worlds apart.

Leaning back against the wall, you can only imagine how Yunjin looks taking it. Your hand firmly grips the back of her head, while she rubs her fingers along the length of your shaft. She forces out every curse and word of appreciation out of you with a deep tone, it’s almost concerning.

“Slow down,” you mutter, knowing full well she won’t listen. Not for anything. Not for you. She wants this as much as you do.

At first glance, it doesn’t really show—not in the playful, satisfied hums while she blows you nor in the slow, deliberate pump of her fingers around your base. It’s a little too leisurely for someone to act desperate. Then you peek through the curtain of sensory overload, and that’s when everything becomes clear. The furrow of her eyebrows, the fixated attention on your cock, the spread of spit and precum all over your erection.

Maybe she does have a point after all.

She catches you staring, catches you slipping. Her eyes flutter open, then shut. In a flash, she goes from sipping on your cock to choking on it. Forcing you deep in her throat without your input. It leaves your head spinning, back at square one, with no control of Yunjin nor yourself, clinging your hands to the walls for support.

“Jen Jen, shit—” you mouth, but it's near silent in comparison to the sloppy sound she makes gagging. It’s as if she’s laughing at you for looking so helpless against her.

The sensation of her slick mouth burns. Her ever increasing tempo and lack of care or comfort relentlessly pluck away at your resolve and restraint. Her eyes water as she violently pushes her own boundaries, her own limits. Stains gradually pile around her lips and chin, a mixture of her spit, seed, and lipstick. You have her hair wrapped around the print of your fingers, holding loose strands away from her gleaming face. Despite your best efforts, you aren’t able to see her beyond blurry little flashes and brief snapshots. Deep down, you’re set ablaze, with nothing to extinguish you. You look to the ceiling, to the side, anywhere but beneath you, trying to find some reprieve from the agony and tension pulling at your loins.

You end up finding it down there, where you want it the least.

Yunjin has you right where she wants you to be—tightly sealed between her strawberry lips as you helplessly cry out her name in a sea of curses and praise. Anticipating the moment you finally break, she zealously works around her gag reflex to keep you deep in her throat. It doesn’t help that she has your balls around her hand, rubbing away and humming in satisfaction at the big hot load that she’ll receive soon. At points, she’s pouting at the fact that you refuse to surrender yourself entirely to her, that you’re still fighting.

It’s a losing effort that ultimately delays the inevitable.

An echoed shout, a wide drop of your jaw, and right there, lightning strikes—you come undone. Yunjin welcomes you with an open mouth; your thick hot load spills down her throat without a single wasted drop. You’re left wide-eyed, shuddering, panting as your orgasm washes over you. Even so, she continues to squeeze away at your balls without remorse, pumping your cock to unload more cum down her thirsty, needy maw.

Yunjin can’t hold in her delight and laughter after she licks your underside for any leftovers. You cushion back against the wall, your energy completely drained as she laps her lips and chin clean. Just like that, any remnant of what transpired hours ago, completely forgotten. It’s not a healthy coping mechanism—not in the slightest—but if it works, it works.

That’s one department where Yunjin won’t let you down.

“I wasn’t ready,” you huff, palming a hand on your thumping chest, cumbrously catching your breath. You mindlessly stare at the living room light, struggling to gather yourself. “Shit, Jen Jen, that was—”

“And we’re only getting started,” she interjects, quickly rising to her feet, pushing you upright. The grin on her face doubles down on the intent. “I’m not going to bed in a dour mood tonight, and you’re gonna help me feel better.”

God, she’s so damn good at this whole setting the mood thing.

You’re no different than anyone else, folding so easily as her fingers map out your body. Continuous circles around every part that belongs to her: from your hair, to your shoulders, arms, chest, down to your tummy, around your back, and everything else in between. Yunjin demands everything about you, her fiery gaze keeping you in tow. You’re tensing up, letting out these strained gasps, watching her watchful eyes dictate your every little move, reminding you who’s carrying the stick in the relationship.

She has you by the balls, quite literally—pumping you back to hardness—and she’s enjoying every moment of it. Teasing you with her flattering mien, she has every intention to leave you more tired and spent tonight than any day she’s worked in her life.

Then, a phone rings. It’s not the hotel landline, but from the pile around your legs. Suddenly, a lightbulb appears over Yunjin’s head, and the smirk on her lips is anything but subtle.

“Would you look at that,” she teases, her grin growing an extra inch wider, and her ironclad grip loosens. Still, you have no room to breathe when she crouches down to dig your rumbling phone out of the pocket of your pants. She makes it a point to act shocked in response to the incoming caller, then shows her to you.

Kim Chaewon.

It’s an open secret within the group—how important of a piece she is between you two, the perfect reprieve and voice of reason when the other isn’t around. You’ve gotten tangled up with both Chaewon and Yunjin a few times, under the same guise of stress relief. In a way, they’ve grown closer together thanks to you. But the rather scornful frown she has tells you otherwise. As if she’s going to lose the one last thing keeping her head straight. Forget that Chaewon is respectful of your relationship; if she gets in the way between her and your dick, she’ll cut her down, and that goes for anyone else too, friendship be damned.

“Be a good boy and take care of the call, will you?” she asks, tone playful, handing the phone over to you. You have no say, other than to follow her command. In the process, you feel your groin tense up. You look down and find your cock sandwiched between her heavenly thighs, choking up from the new sensation of her creamy skin.

When you try to look away, she redirects your eyes back to hers. Her palm meets your chin. Hard. She curls her lips, expressing disdain and reinforcing her control. There’s your first and last warning.

You’ve never struggled so much just opening your own phone. It’s not that Yunjin just hacked into it; her imprints are everywhere. The very lockscreen is her kissing you, your face cropped out of frame and your homescreen is a candid photo of her more bold outfits. If not for the texts from the other members and loved ones, you’d look like the creepiest, most obsessive stalker ever. You can feed tabloids and news outlets day-to-day information, down to the most intricate details. She’s a huge part of you, and it’s gonna eventually ruin you—

“Hurry up, dipshit.”

Yunjin’s stern tone snaps you from your daze. Hard to maintain a steady head when she’s slowly choking you out and she’s thrusting your cock in and out of her legs, still sore from her blowjob and while you’re still reeling from your orgasm. She’s perfectly built for fucking for hours on end; you’re surprised you hasn’t caught on after so long.

“Hello?” Chaewon’s voice pulls your focus away, but only briefly. Almost instinctively, Yunjin’s legs press tighter against your hard cock in response. She raises her eyebrows, shaking her head, demanding you answer the call. No context clues, no verbal cues, just wing it.

“He-ey, Chae.” Your voice comes out gruff, airy. A brief glimpse down and you find the growing stain on Yunjin’s thighs. Your cock entering and exiting the comfort of her legs. She doesn’t appear satisfied, not even a little.

“Is Yunjin there with you? She’s been gone after we got back to our rooms. She's not been herself after—you know—and we’ve been trying to comfort her to no avail.”

“Yeah, she’s here with me—” you say, looking directly at her, and she nods, still stiff and sour. She leans forward, her tongue pressing against your skin, mumbling something incomprehensible on your neck. Somewhere along the lines of “If you tell her, I’m going to fucking kill you,” and she sounds like she means it.

Try to suppress your gasps and whine, you can’t hold yourself back. It affects your inflection, from gravelly and small to high-pitched and nasally. You’re one wrong move away from meeting disaster, and Yunjin is the one goading you to your own pitfall. She revels running you around in circles, leading you like sheep to a shepard. You can’t think straight from all this built up pressure. “She’s good! She’s doing just fine—”

Out of nowhere, she moans. Loud. Her tone is so obvious, it can’t be anyone but her. Any sort of illusion or pretense is immediately dashed, right then and there. You almost drop your phone, barely managing to save it with a glint of clarity.

You don’t hear from Chaewon for a bit, letting you indulge in Yunjin’s seductive motions. Your body is the perfect outlet for her pleasure: kissing and marking around her neck, her fingers tracing your arms to your chest, and your cock comfortably snug between her sculpted legs. You regain some semblance of control by pumping away between her warmth, but it’s hollow; she lets her thighs press down while you thrust quicker and quicker. At first, she’d been the one bringing all the friction, until your hips begin to glide involuntarily, the wetness dripping from her thighs and around your cock making the transition near-flawless.

Soon, the room fills with the sound of her moans, till it becomes oh-so clear you’re fucking her. The call remains active, but you still hear nothing from Chaewon’s side. The phone in your hand is what’s holding you back, but even you feel your control slip away again; against Yunjin’s demand to pretend everything’s normal, when there’s nothing normal about the position you’re in. The only thing unusual is the fact that Chaewon isn’t there to watch, preferably while pleasuring herself.

“Shit, Yunjin, you feel so fucking good—” you sputter, clutching Yunjin’s nape as she curses and whines against your shoulder. Suddenly, you hear Chaewon again, but you’ve practically stopped caring. She’d understand.

“Yeah, well, I don’t blame her for going to you. I’d do the same right now, but I gotta take care of the girls as the leader.” Chaewon sounds so diplomatic about the matter, it’s almost surprising. “Just—” she pauses when Yunjin loudly kisses you, cooing and moaning about how big you are in the direction of your phone. “Please tell her to come back here by morning, all right?”

“Sure—thing.” Your tone jumps on the second word, as your cock hits a particularly deep stroke that teases the outline of her cunt.

“Oh, and Kkura said hi, by the way.”

You’re amazed at how understanding she is.

“Okay.” You look down and you see Yunjin adjust your cock around the entrance of her pussy with her hand, impatient and done with the teasing. All the possible replies to maintain normalcy and your best response ends up being a simple, hurried “Hi.”

“Bye.”

You drop your phone right as Chaewon hangs up the call. Yunjin immediately kisses you straight in the lips, sliding her tongue between your lips. She lets out this strained whine when you grab her ass, lightly pushing her away. Miraculously, she doesn’t fight back or lash out.

“Don’t you wanna cum right in my pussy?”

“No, Jen Jen. Let me finish right in your thighs.”

Yunjin flashes this sad, deflated frown, but she ultimately concedes. She’s this multifaceted character only you might ever hope to understand. She's a perfectionist and wants things her way, but she’s also soft and vulnerable. You feel guilty making this rather huge request, but she reassures you by pressing your cock comfortably between her legs. Your worries soon disappear when the friction of her heat keeps your hips moving. The sight of your dick moving in-and-out keeps you preoccupied.

Even she forgets about her disappointment too, hypnotized by the continuous rhythm of your cock. She pulls your head in, moans all these profanities of varying tones in your ear. The way you both pull each other’s bodies apart, your expressions twisting in pleasure, demanding more—you might as well be in bed, and not breaking your knees and backs against the living room wall.

You’re not sure what’s going to break first—your legs, your back, your hips, or your cock.

“Oh—fuck—Yunjin,” you groan, losing yourself in her asphyxiating heat of her skin, on the verge of another climax. You have one hand marking her ass as you both grind into each other’s bodies. God, you’re both made for one another. Drowning in her tightness, you thrust deep between her legs. Same spot, same stroke, same result. You remember where and how well you’ve fucked her, it’s almost muscle memory to you. It drives Yunjin crazy.

She senses your incoming orgasm and shouts. The need for you to cum isn’t a request, but a full demand. Something to be expected. Her voice hits those familiar high notes that aren’t far off from her usual recordings, and she firmly clings to you. As if you ever had any other thought than to finish on her pencilike legs. You let yourself succumb to the sensation, let all the pent up pressure set itself off while you bask in that delirious high.

The way Yunjin clenches her thighs around your cock, she may as well have snapped it off.

You both mirror each other’s expressions; eyes completely shut, jaw completely agape, resting in each other’s bodies. The only difference being that Yunjin is way, way louder than you. Your mind goes completely blank, with nothing but her name drawn out from the curve of your lips. Your back is aching; your knees are tingling, ready to fail at any time. Nothing registers for you except her voice, her endless moan that rings in your ear. It’s only after her legs involuntarily slacken their grip that you fall.

To the floor, that is.

And you stay down—a minute, maybe several, completely shaken up and your head still riding that high. Somewhere in limbo. One hand gripped to her waist, the other on her leg. You forget to breathe. Your brain doesn’t register the concept of exhaling, only taking in air. The world around you appears to pause completely.

And then your phone beeps. Still dazed, you completely ignore it.

Yunjin brings you back to life. She has one hand gripped against the wall, the other on your hair—which you now just realize—gasping for much needed air. She can’t muster up the strength to open her eyes, so you assess the damage. It’s as disastrous as it looks: a huge splatter of cum around her legs, dripping down to her feet. To the floor. To your pants.

You don’t say a word; you don’t really have anything meaningful or productive to add. The simple question of whether or not she feels better, but you know she’ll say it won’t be enough. That she wants your cum right in her pussy, no matter how spent or sore you are. Maybe you can quietly weave your way out of a nightlong bedroom session.

So you look at your phone, removing yourself from the situation. There’s two new messages, both from the same person—Chaewon. Nothing noteworthy, just the reminder to send Yunjin back early in the morning. The idol life never really stops.

Yunjin calls out to you, abruptly intercepting your attention. “Hey.”

You look up and find her looking down at the details, slowly gathering her bearings. She runs a finger on a sticky patch on her skin, then tastes your seed with her tongue. “What’s up?”

She ignores you for a moment to gather more cum to lap, then stares directly at you. “We should have done this in front of a mirror.”

You pause. It’s hard to believe Yunjin telling you this, when she’s been the biggest skeptic. She’d rather have it in bed, on the table—anywhere that won’t allow her to see herself. The uncanny image of a prim, desirable idol bent over while someone uses her.

With that in mind, you chuckle. “We do it all the time. Give it a break.”

—————

You both end up doing it anyway.

It’s two in the morning, and you vividly have Chaewon’s request at the back of your mind. The group’s flight back home is in six hours, and Yunjin has to be there with them for breakfast. It’s not like you’ll be away long term; she has three days-off after today. Days when you can spend all the time in the world together to your heart’s content. But fuck, Yunjin is so goddamn insatiable, she can’t go at least three hours without your cock somehow around her. You don’t end up getting sleep, because she’s so needy for your cock she can’t help but stroke it or blow it back to hardness.

Your suggestion? A late night coffee run that ends in predictable fashion: you, fucking Yunjin from behind in the comfort of a cafe restroom.

Yunjin’s outfit barely qualifies as casual; if anything, it’s her performance fit (a sports bra and a short skirt) from earlier, topped only by the leather jacket she went to your room with. Yet none of that matters when they’re pooled on the floor, with your hand squeezing her bare breast and the other pressed on her shapely ass. And there’s your hard cock, pounding away at her soaked cunt like it’s second nature—which it is—and it’s quite the motivating sight. Watching it appear and disappear in her pussy, hearing her hushed pleas, echoed cries, and every lewd sound in between.

The cafe across your hotel is completely empty, which is to be expected. You can count the number of working staff on one hand, and most of them are fast asleep or busy on their phone. You’re not making any excuses for fucking Yunjin at a place like this; you’re merely laying out the scene.

You can blame Yunjin for your precarious position. Any attempt to make some small talk she makes it about you. About missing your cock so much, about how she wants you to fill her pussy up and make her feel better. As if two orgasms wasn’t enough. You wouldn’t be surprised if she asked you to fuck her right then and there, in front of the cafe where everyone can see. You end up agreeing to a compromise, but it’s merely delaying the inevitable. The door is locked shut, nobody’s around to hear, and no one really cares.

If only it were that simple.

“Fuck—so—fucking—big!” cries out Yunjin, as if you were in the privacy of your hotel room and not in front of a public restroom. She gives it to you again, praises you in both murmurs and screams, her hands glued on the edges of the sink, eyes fluttering open and closed with her jaw agape on the surface. It’s as filthy as you imagined, if not more. Only you can see the full extent of the damage you’re making, and it is breathtaking.

She beckons you to fuck her harder, give her more, tells you not to stop. The idea never crosses your mind. When she yells and mewls, she’s making sure each one is louder than the last. You can tell she has nothing to lose. If she’s going down, she’ll drag you down with her.

“You’re so fucking tight, Jen Jen,” you groan out, looking at your entangled bodies in the mirror, at her arched back, at the curvature of her ass, at your cock spearing her hard. You puncture each of your next three words with increasing emphasis. “So—fucking—tight.”

As the sex dissolves into deeper madness, so does your restraint. You’re fucking her through the sink, pounding away with reckless abandon, with zero care for comfort. Thoughtless, impulsive drops of ‘tight,’ ‘fuck,’ and even a single ‘slut’ bomb—words that can get you cancelled on-air. Yunjin shudders, letting out this drawn out ‘yes’ in response, as if admitting the truth—to your utter surprise (sarcasm). Her core clenches against your cock, stretching her out. So wet, so needy—

It’s a strange thing to believe, but this is Yunjin’s first orgasm of the night. Her lands lay flat on the sink, and her mouth lolls wide, screaming your name like you’re the most important person in the world. The intense heat, the suffocating pulse of her cunt, drowning your cock—

Fuck, it’s too much for your already aching cock. And her thighs and lips were brutal in their own right.

Moments after hers, your very own climax follows. You’ve already struggled holding back twice; whatever amount of resolve you had left is non-existent. Moving from her chest at some point, the hand on her hair yanks harder. Pushing your hips as far as they can go, wishing your cock can somehow enter her womb—you ignore the possibility that you might be hurting her.

‘Hurts so good’ exists for a reason.

The remnants of your orgasm continue to leave Yunjin in shambles. A brief look at the aftermath, and the first impression is that you didn’t fuck her hard enough. Your hot cum spilling from her splayed, ruined hole, her clothes on the other side of the restroom, and your pants receiving some of her hot slick. Yunjin remains bent on the sink, huffing through her own climax, your hand deeply imprinted on her ass, and marks, scratches, and rosy patches on her back—vestiges of hours gone by.

You remain like this for a little while longer: cuddling up against her frame while she rests on the sink, softly kissing around her ear, brushing strands of loose red hair. She’s gorgeous, there’s no denying that. When she performs, when she’s being herself, when she’s getting pounded hard—but she looks best when she’s calm, when she’s at her softest, at her most vulnerable. When you’re all alone and you both have nothing to hide. At the end of the day, you both need each other. For everything.

—————

You and Yunjin might as well be strangers.

It’s as if the past seven hours happened in a different timeline. Both of you casually lounge in the still lifeless cafe, drinking the nonexistent traces of your iced coffee. You scroll through social media; Yunjin still dominates the trends and new reposts of the viral accident pop-up like they’re produced from a factory. She’s doing the same, reading through all the comments. Some memes, some praising her professionalism, some simply to get that verified ad revenue.

This will be completely forgotten in a week. Yunjin’s career will come out unscathed. People move on. She will, too.

Yet you still remain awkward with her, completely undecided on the words that she really needs right now. She needs you more than just your body.

“Jen Jen,” you whisper, before you freeze up at her anxious gaze. She waits for a follow-up, a sentence, anything. It never comes.

She frowns. She’s not mad, only disappointed.

The sun begins to rise over the city, signaling the start of a new day. Knowing this, Yunjin adjusts her jacket and rises from her seat. You never told her once.

She walks through the door, and steps outside—but not before turning and taking one last concerned look at you. You quietly mouth ‘Love you,’ and surprisingly, she smiles. The Yunjin you know and love.

‘Love ya.’

—————

(A/N: againsorryfornotpostingmuchlatelyohgodivebeensobusy—

Ginger/red hair Yunjin didn't grow on me at first. Then the Good Bones teaser dropped. The strut. The attitude. The fact they allowed her to walk around in her bra and panties. What the fuck. I've been so down bad for her lately, and so are you. Looking forward to their new music! Thank you for reading!)

#smut #kpop smut #le sserafim #yunjin #huh yunjin

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bratbby333 · 5 months

Text

your beauty never scared me ˚➶ ｡˚ ☁️ suguru geto

ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ synopsis: after having your heart broken, your best friend helps you pick up the pieces ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ content + warnings: nsfw + mdni !! fem!reader x suguru, reader was in a toxic relationship + cheated on, fwb!suguru, angst, comfort, smut, unprotected sex ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ word count: 5k (+ a smau!! woo!!) ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ author notes: pink indicates reader's pov, orange is suguru's...inspired by Will Grayson, Will Grayson by John Green <3 also this was not beta read so pls excuse any typos xx i hope yall enjoy !!

Heartache has its own special way of ruining someone…

...stripping away every ounce of self-respect you work so hard to accumulate. That’s the trouble with letting people in. The outcome is almost always undecided, left in the hands of fate or whatever the hell you believe in. Perhaps it's a moment of weakness, letting a stranger entangle themselves with every fiber of your being, see every inch of your skin, explore the darker parts of your mind– even the things you hide from yourself. Putting trust in the wrong things, the wrong people. Never knowing someone’s true intentions until you discover them in bed, in your bed, with another. When something breaks inside of you, something cynical puts the pieces back together. You are a shell of who you once were. Blame it on soul-crushing character development.

It’s hard to watch the woman you love destroy herself…

...for the sake of holding on to someone who has only ill-intent in their heart. Perhaps it’s best to remove yourself. It’s agonizing, knowing you have the ability to save her from all this. You could relieve her of the heartache, free her from the suffering. Bring her nothing but joy. She has changed, evolved, and is nearly unrecognizable now. You watch as he withers her down into nothing. That man broke her, leaving her to pick up the pieces. And the woman you see now isn’t the same one you knew all those years ago.

The cold air of December flurries around outside as your chest erupts in warmth at the sight of her name illuminating your lock screen. She asks to see you, and you’d be a fool to decline. As she’s sat before you, you take in every part of her that you missed. But she’s different now. Dull eyes, sloping shoulders, her cheekbones are sunken in as her clothes hang from her figure like it's two sizes too big. But it isn’t, you remember the day she bought that t-shirt. The soul that normally inhabits her body has been replaced with something…unrecognizable. You know it’s her, but your mind tells you otherwise. The way her voice lilts from her lips, how chillingly different she sounds while delivering the news, it’s heartbreaking.

She informs you she won’t be around much, mentioning that it will take time for her to heal from this. You pretend to be supportive of the distance she wants to place between herself and her loved ones, even though it absolutely crushes you.

There’s something peaceful about loneliness…

…only relying on yourself for company. It can be draining of course. With the few friends you do have, you make the most of it. It’s a serene feeling, private even. People perceive you however they please, but only a few trusted individuals know your ins and outs. It's refreshing.

God forbid you have to cater to someone else, especially when dating. It's hard enough having to take care of yourself. You make sure your friends know they’re loved and appreciated, of course, but the idea of inviting another person into your life; someone who demands your time and attention in order for it to work out? No thank you. It’s backfired for you many times before, you aren’t willing to go through it again. Your friends have watched you heal from heartbreak after heartbreak, each one more damning than the last. No one blames you for your cynicism, it’s understandable.

Plus, the emotional upkeep of a romantic relationship is exhausting. And the idea of meeting someone, falling for them, and it not working out in the end? Torturous. Why put yourself through all that?

“You just haven’t found the right one!”

“They’ll come around when you least expect it!”

“You gotta put yourself back out there!”

Blah, blah, blah. Not interested. There’s no room for hopeless romance in this ill-fated world. You’re not dealing with that pain anymore. Not if you can help it.

The trouble with love is that it’s cruel…

…discriminatory, even. Picking and choosing who gets to rejoice in its bliss and simultaneously alienating the unfortunate souls who suffer in its unyielding grip. You attempt to find peace in the silence of her absence, telling yourself that she’s okay, but knowing all too well that her precious heart is still shackled to someone so undeserving. You hold on to the irregular check-in’s you get from her. You hope she’s healing, and you prepare yourself for the outcome; that when she finally returns, she will not be the same person she was.

Betrayal has a pesky habit of sticking around…

…a lingering feeling that still eats away at you. The night you caught him in his infidelity, something deep within you broke. It wasn’t your heart, no, that would be too simple. It was your psyche, the core of your being. The day he left, a part of you left with him. The chemistry of your brain changed, your atomic makeup shifting toward nihilism.

So you move through life differently now. Every positive outlook you once had now cast to the wayside, replaced with unyielding suspicion in attempts to keep your heart guarded from the outside world. Hope has finally run out, the idea that there’s good in everyone proven to be a goddamn lie. You shove your desire for love into a padded safe and hide it away on a forgotten shelf in your mind. Hell, you’d burn that obnoxious feeling if you could. Run it through a meat grinder, chuck it into a volcano, nuke it. Doesn’t matter. Anything to stop it from tearing you apart. It’s not like it’s done you any good. Besides, who would want someone as damaged as you?

Part of you feels guilty…

…for sitting idly by, knowing your dear friend was hurting so deeply. But there wasn’t much you could do. You grant her space, knowing she wasn’t given that same courtesy for four years of her life. You pray she returns soon, aware that she doesn’t do well on her own. Her own mind is acting like a prison, holding her hostage, forcing her to relive her pain day in and day out. But, god damn it, you can’t take it anymore. You have been without her for so long. So you reach out, demanding she spend time with you. Self-isolation can only get you so far. It had been months since you’d seen her last. And to your surprise, she agrees.

A spring evening, 65 degrees, the setting sun…

…a gentle breeze that laps at your warm skin as you sit cross-legged on a checkered blanket. The beautiful flowers of May decorate the ground in colorful clusters. The cicadas sing while the bees are busy buzzing around. It’s a strange feeling; coping with the fact that your life has reached rock-bottom, a total stand-still as you work to heal yourself, yet life continues to move, to grow, to thrive. It’s inspiring in a way. You are accompanied by Suguru. He managed to get you out of the house after weeks of rotting away inside, anchored down by the gut wrenching feeling of heartbreak.

Laughter echoes through the park as the two of you revel in the serenity. Life feels…good. Whole. Worth living. It’s been a while since it has felt this way. It shouldn't feel strange, but it does. Happiness has become a foreign concept to you.

Sitting before you is the woman you love…

…the color in her cheeks has returned, the fullness of her face present once more. After suffering through the many months of thunder and unrelenting downpour in her mind, she has bloomed once more. Finally. You couldn’t pull your attention away from her even if you wanted to, your body and mind drawn to her in the most spiritual way. Even though she’s deep in thought, working to take in her surroundings, her beauty is still very much evident. She isn’t even aware of the power she holds– utterly entrancing. You would do anything to live in this moment forever. You’d do anything for her.

But in this moment…

…with a forgotten feeling of fulfillment creeping its way into your chest as the soft rays of the sun dance across your skin and the sounds of nature swirl through your ears, you realize something. Something so beautiful, yet so fucking terrifying. You love him. Suguru. Maybe it was just your heartache talking, connecting dots that had no business associating.

You brush it off, hide it away, and chalk it up to just being in a vulnerable moment. Your heart had been torn from your body only a few months prior. Anger still rips through your chest when you think about it. Four years wasted on someone you had placed on the highest pedestal, far higher than you placed your family, your friends…yourself. You were blindsided. In an instant, everything you had come to love, the home you felt safe in, the person you thought you knew…ripped away. Like it was nothing at all.

Suguru has done what he could to mend the wounds for you, knowing good and well that if you are left to your own devices you would spiral past the point of return. And as renewing as this spring evening is, you know you will never be the same again.

But you can’t help but fixate on the way he makes you feel. And as hard as you try to push those feelings away, they continue to bubble up. What happens when it finally reaches its boiling point?

You’re only human. You have wants, needs, and desires…

…so who do you turn to for that release? Suguru, of course. Isn’t that what friends are for?

Some would say it’s an evil thing to do; to use someone for pleasure, your own personal gain. A part of you understands that, too. Sure, it may have started out that way, but it’s shifted. And that scares the shit out of you, how you find yourself searching for his validation, the sadness you feel when he leaves in the morning after a night full of fun. So why not tell yourself that you’re just doing what you need to do, rather than what you want to do. Ignoring the fact that deep down you really fucking love it.

It’s not like you’re taking advantage of him and the bond you share…not really, anyway. The two of you are very close, having known each other for ten years. Side by side, maneuvering through a decade of emotional ups and downs; personal dilemmas, weird family dynamics, terrible relationships, fluctuating hormones and unexpected cast changes within your friend group. But the two of you have always stayed consistent, the main characters. Your personalities mesh well, constantly riffing off one another. Never ending laughter and smiles. He's seen you at your absolute worst and vice versa. The true definition of unconditional love. So why not get a little more from him? After all this time, it feels warranted, well-deserved, even. Ignoring what you feel for him, it just makes sense that this is how it should go down. Plus, if it was such a bad idea, why would he agree?

You would accept her…

…in any way she chooses to present herself to you. After years of watching her hurt, you finally have your friend back, and there isn’t anything you wouldn't do to make her happy. Especially with guilt that you still feel, knowing there was nothing you could have done that would’ve saved her from her suffering. So when she suggests the idea of being friends with benefits, you’d be insane to deny her that. Is it a bad idea? Perhaps. You refuse her offer? She slips away, seeking refuge in the arms of another, someone who could hurt her…Never again.

You crave her so deeply that this arrangement seems perfect. Even though you dread the morning after, not wanting to leave her side…jumping on every opportunity to see her, showering her in praise every time you’re nestled deep within her warmth– the way her eyes light up at your word makes you melt. Is it possible she feels the same way? The more you think about it, the less crazy the idea seems. Would she leave you in the dust if you told her the truth? You don’t want to risk losing her. Not if you can help it. But you can’t confess your underlying intentions. Even though a deep part of you hopes for more, it doesn’t even matter at this point. Hide it. You get to be with her in a way that you never have before, and that’s enough for you…right?

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

It all transpired after one drunken night playing a confessional card game with your friend group. You were shit-faced and horny, and he wasn’t any better off. You’re honestly surprised his dick still worked that night, but god did it work. You didn’t expect it to go any further after that, assuming it was a one-off occasion. The two of you never really addressed what happened, either, didn’t take the time to have a real conversation about it. Just a quick “hey, do you wanna…” followed by an indifferent “yeah, why not?”, and that was that. Which is probably a good thing, because any more talking would have most likely resulted in your true feelings coming to the surface. But it happened, and is still happening, so who are you to complain? It’s perfect.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

Your friends and random on-lookers alike say you’re compatible, and yeah, they might be right, but fuck that. Why risk the friendship you cherish so deeply for a title? That's idiotic. It's borderline insanity. The minute you put a label on something it all comes crashing down. So, why ruin a good thing?

Don’t overthink it. It’s nothing serious, and it never will be. You refuse to open yourself up to somebody else, someone new. No more getting hurt. You’ve let Suguru into your life in a more meaningful way than you have for anyone else. And that’s far enough.

Does he know every little thing about you? Sure.

Does he care for your well-being? Yeah.

Is he attentive, thoughtful, and supportive? Of course…it is Suguru after all.

But so what? That's what friends are for.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

You and Suguru see each other frequently, at least three times a week, whether it’s just a normal hangout or…a hangout. You just get what you need and go; a good laugh, dinner and a movie, casual drinks, or a heaven-sent dick appointment. You both seem content, enjoying one another’s company and…bodies…and minds and souls.

Fuck.

It’s hard to ignore your totally natural, human need for deeper intimacy. But you try to, and damn do you try hard. It would probably be best for you to stop hooking up with Suguru and just go back to how things were.

You can’t go through this. Not again. You’ve already shifted the perfectly normal dynamic you once had into something deeper. Something…real. There’s no turning back now. So you continue to hide behind your ego, fighting off every demon known to man in hopes that this will all just go away.

You’ve been somewhat successful in suppressing your feelings, molding them into something more manageable. You are best friends, with the addition of benefits. Simple. Nothing more, nothing less. You pretend to be ignorant of Suguru's awe-inspiring beauty. How his energy is absolutely addicting, the way his lingering touch burns your skin so beautifully. He makes you feel seen for everything you are and appreciates you for everything you’re not. That sentiment alone propels you through the unexplored cosmos, crossing the line between reality and nirvana as starlight dances across your skin.

Not to mention, when you two are actually fucking? It's like two parts of the same soul finally meeting after centuries of arduous searching. You don’t know where your body stops and his begins, entangled in the most profound way.

God. You sound insane. This is no way to view a friend…your best friend, at that. Get it together.

What would you even call this? Touch starved? No, he touches you plenty…and in all the right places, too. Is it desperation? Your insatiable need for love? Karmic punishment for all your failed relationships? The corny trope where you end up falling for your best friend? As much as you want to fight against the feelings you have for him, it’s too late.

Whatever. Just play it off. You refuse to let your walls down. And you’d hate to give Suguru the satisfaction of being the one who commandeered heavy machinery and sent a wrecking ball toward your emotional fortress.

If you don’t acknowledge your feelings they’ll just cease to exist, right? Yeah, that’s how it works. And it’s a super healthy coping mechanism, too.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

All this deep pondering and emotional soul searching has got you worked up. You decide to see if Suguru wants to come over. Not because you miss him, or anything. It’ll be nothing more than a casual hook up. Dick only, no feelings.

You catch yourself giggling at his messages. Gross. You brush it off with a shake of your head, a violent wave of self awareness washing over you.

I'm not going through this again. I refuse.

You read the messages over and over. Do you seem desperate? Do your texts carry the perfect amount of indifference? Whatever. It doesn’t matter, it’s just Suguru, anyway. He's stuck around this long, it would take a lot to scare him off, now.

The plan’s in motion, and you’re going to have a good time tonight. You feel your heart rate spike at the thought of seeing him. That's a totally normal reaction for someone who has no feelings involved, right? Just friends…right?

Suguru chuckles as he reads your response. Excitement floods through his body in anticipation. Is it finally time to confess? His own eagerness catches him off-guard. He can’t. It’s too soon. He takes a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. Keep it together.

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

It’s been so long since the feeling of joy has drifted between these barren walls. You take a swig of your drink, exhaling happily through your nose as the sweet juice dances with the sting of the liquor, warming your chest as you swallow. Leaning back on the couch with one leg kicked up on the coffee table, you absentmindedly swirl your glass as you gaze at Suguru.

“I’m really happy to see that you’re doin’ better,” he muses, taking a sip before setting his cup down. You offer him a small nod paired with a gentle smile, looking back at the drink nestled between your fingers; the ice that’s creating condensation on the outside, the way the sun seeps between the half-open curtains in your living room, the cooing of birds just beyond your window panes. Quite frankly, you’re trying your hardest to focus on anything but him. Ignoring the thrum of your heart every time you look into his eyes, pretending the smooth cadence of his voice doesn’t make your body tremble.

Say you do confess? What then? Is that really something you want, anyway? Or is it just nice to lust after someone? No, it’s not that. You really do love him. You haven’t even considered the possibility of him reciprocating these feelings, and odds are if he does, you’ll just run for the hills, not willing to open your heart up again. Your last relationship destroyed you. There’s no way you’ll allow someone to fill that void. Not with the possibility that it’ll all be a farce.

After a moment of silence, you finally speak up. “Me, too. And it’s all thanks to you, Sugu.” You finally meet his gaze, and it’s as if his eyes are attempting to pierce through you with how intently he’s looking at you. His expression quirks as if to ask what you mean. You decide to test the waters a bit. Fuck it.

“You…you’ve made me feel…whole again,” your words come out a bit choppy and drawn out, still battling with your decision to come clean. Your eyes dart around his face before looking away once more. You fiddle with your fingers, unsure of if you want to elaborate. Even if you stop here, it’s okay. That’s a totally normal thing to say to a friend who helped you in your time of need.

Your head snaps toward him at the sound of your name. More is said, but you focus on the way he addresses you. He says it so softly, so gently, like the very syllables of your title grace his tongue as they sway from in between his vocal cords. For four years, your name was used against you, weaponized with anger and hatred. But his words are relayed to you with nothing but love behind them.

Your ears are ringing as you stare at him blankly. You shake your head in hopes to clear the thoughts that are clouding it. “Wait…wha? What did you just say? The last part?”

“I said, it’s because I love you,” he smiles as he watches your face flush. Time slows as your heart rate speeds up. You brows furrow a bit, trying to piece together what the hell is going on. A million thoughts spin through your head as you stare at him. “You…love…me? Like, in a ‘best friends’ kinda way, right?” You’re shocked as he shakes his head. “No. I love you, and I have for a while. In a more than friends kinda way,” he laughs a bit before leaning forward, reaching for your hand. “You love me, too. Don’t you?”

“I-” your words get caught in your throat as his fingers rub against the back of your hand. As calm and collected as Suguru seems on the outside, he is spiraling on the inside. He isn’t sure where this newfound confidence is coming from, but he decides to roll with it. His heart thrums in his chest as he anxiously awaits your response. He has reached his tipping point, wanting nothing more than to finally be able to call you his.

You look down, staring at the place where the two of you meet, the feeling of electricity coursing through your body. A chill runs down your spine before you look back at him. “I-I do. I love you.”

.｡*ﾟ+.*.｡

You’re laying on your back, your hair fanned out across the bed. Your arms are wrapped tight around his neck as he gently thrusts into you with slow, deep ruts of his hips. His head is tucked into the crook of your neck, his warm breath brushing across your sensitive skin.

He leans back, looking down at you with a sweet smile, “You are so beautiful.” His eyes run up and down your body, taking in every dip and curve of your figure, before fixating on where the two of you meet. His lips part as he watches himself disappear inside of you, a deep moan breaking through his chest at the sight of your sweet juices coating his length. He rubs intricate circles into your clit, loving the way you sound as your body writhes under his touch.

Tears begin to pool behind your eyes as you gaze up at him, entranced by the way he manages to stimulate every sense in your body. This is what love truly feels like, bestowed upon you by a man who wants nothing more than to fulfill every facet of your life.

He presses his forehead against yours as he continues to pump into you, his movements influenced by nothing more than pure adoration.

The sun bounces off your features, illuminating your face in such an ethereal way. His breath catches in his throat as he watches the way the light makes your eyes glow. You are angelic in every sense of the word. Someone too pure for this realm, unfathomably delicate; sent to this world to be worshiped and protected.

“I love you. So much,” he groans. Every ounce of devotion he has for you is being pumped into your body with every plunge. It’s overwhelming for him. He's nearly bursting at the seams as he makes love to you, moving his hips so tantalizingly slow, but wanting to thrust into you with fervor, to pound the message into you that you are deserving of all love in the world, and that he will be the one to give it to you. But he takes his time, wanting nothing more than to savor you.

Small whimpers break through your throat. “I…ahh!– I love you, S-Suguru,” you moan, whining as his head brushes into your sweet spot, making your back arch off the bed as your chest presses into his. The pleasure raking through you is immeasurable, every neuron in your brain firing off at once. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, desperate to feel every single part of him.

He cups the sides of your cheeks, brushing away your tears before placing two soft kisses over each eye. “Why’re you cryin’, my love?” he coos, concern evident on his face as he rubs his thumbs against your face. His hips pause as his eyes dart between yours.

“Just…’m just so happy,” you whisper, scrunching your nose up with a small sniffle before placing a kiss on his lips. He smiles deeply before returning to his original pace.

“You deserve it...just wanna make you feel good, baby,” his hips press him into the deepest parts of you, rubbing against your sweet, gushing walls, but his pace remains deliberate. “You deserve all the pleasure in the world,” his teeth grit ever so slightly as he feels you clench down on him. “F-fuck, baby… fuck. You are just... incredible,” he groans, angling his hips to keep brushing against your g spot.

Even though you’ve had each other many times before, no other instance compares to the way you feel right now. Your body brimming with love, fulfillment…with him. His touch makes you feel reborn, like no one has ever hurt you before. His hands glide across your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, his unyielding passion evident in the way he clings to you, and you to him.

“Sugu…” you gasp as he bottoms out once more. Short pants leave your lips as you feel the tightness in your stomach intensify. “P-please, keep goin’...I’m…gonna cum,” you mewl. His hands reach underneath your body, palming each asscheek as he lifts your lower half off the bed. The new angle makes your eyes roll as stars begin to dance around your head. “Me too…y’feel so fuckin’ good.” The fiction of his pelvis against your clit shoots ripples of pleasure through you. Your nails drag down his back in an attempt to ground yourself, but to no avail. This feels otherworldly. His pace picks up a bit, pushing you to unravel, your body succumbing to bliss. The warmth that engulfs his lengths makes him reach his peak right after you, his hips stuttering as he works you both through your orgasms.

He props himself up on his forearms, making a conscious effort to not collapse on you and crush you with his body weight, though you would most definitely welcome it. He watches as your chest rises and falls, every soft pant that leaves your lips like music to his yearning ears. He can’t bring himself to pull out, loving the way your walls are still spasming around him. You stare into his eyes for a moment, running your fingers down his spine. A gentle moment of silence settles between to two of you. No words are spoken, but they don't need to be.

He begins to get up, but your legs lock around his waist immediately, resheathing him inside of you. “Baby–”, he begins to object, but your arms wrap around his shoulders once more, pulling him down as you kiss the spot below his ear, “Jus’ a few more minutes. Love having you like this.”

A deep chuckle rumbles from his chest as he smiles into the crook of your neck. “You keep this up and we might just have to go again.”

And you do. For hours and hours, attempting to make up for all the years wasted. Your two souls engaging in the most mesmerizing dance. He is determined to replace all the heartache you feel with pleasure. And he does. You feel nothing but him. And he can’t focus on anything other than you. Rolling around together until the golden hue of the setting sun shifts into a light pink as it rises above the horizon. But it feels like no time has passed at all.

Suguru draws soft circles into your skin, holding you tight against his sweat-glistened chest. Your body trembles from the copious amount of pleasure coursing through you. A gentle peck is placed on the top of your head before he looks toward the ceiling. A sense of contentment washes over him, dancing with the soft pulse of his many orgasms still reverberating through his body. After years of waiting, you are finally his, and he is determined to grant you your well-deserved peace.

Dawning a robe, you sit on your balcony, listening to the birds sing you their habitual 'good morning'. The door slides open behind you, and Suguru takes a seat, presenting you with a cup of tea. A quiet thank you leaves your lips as the two of you take in the scenery before you.

“We should probably get some sleep now, huh?” You ask, turning to him as you take a sip, smiling at the fact that he knows exactly how you take your tea. But, of course he does. It’s Suguru.

He grins, “No…I don’t want to leave this moment behind just yet.” You blush, reaching your hand out to grasp his.

“Me neither.”

In his eyes, you are precious, the most important person in his life. The deep-rooted fear of not being worthy of love is disproven in the form of Suguru’s undying loyalty to you. He has waited years to be with you, and he would have waited years more. And as the two of you sit together, with your fingers intertwined and heartbeats in sync, you know there is nowhere else you want to be…no one else you want to be with. An unfamiliar feeling of safety creeps into your chest. You’re in good hands now.

Maybe opening yourself back up to love wasn’t such a bad idea, after all.

author notes: this fic is incredibly self-serving...but i really needed this. i just want a pretty boy named suguru to save me from the heartache i feel rn ugh

my reqs are closed at the moment, but thirsts and chats are always welcome !!

alsoooo !! i just wanted to send out a big big thank you for 700 followers...im literally in shock i cannot believe it. im spinning around my room rn just thinking abt it. yall are amazing n i appreciate every single one of you 🫶🏼

tag list: @anxious-chick @call-memissbrightside @the-weeb-of-the-uchiha @sadmonke

likes, reblogs, and comments are always greatly appreciated !!

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corruptedcaps · 16 days

Text

Transfusion Confusion

The following story is inspired by a prompt from the great @misseviehyde

---

Emma tossed in her hospital bed trying to sleep but she knew from weeks of being there that it would be futile. It wasn't the bed or the room itself, which was relatively nice for a hospital, that kept her from sleeping. No it was her long prolonged illness that gave her insomnia.

Emma had been in an out of hospitals since she was young. She had a rare condition that would strike at anytime. It wasn't life threatening but it made being a functional adult nearly impossible. She would spend weeks like this alone in the hospital getting her body pumped full of steroids and hormones to return her body to normality.

Her condition made having a social life basically impossible. As a result she didn't have any friends, had never had a boyfriend, and even her parents had ran off when she was four. It was a pretty pitiful existence but it was the only one she knew.

The door creaked open, and Rita, a kind and friendly nurse Emma had known for years, walked in, pushing a bed with a comatose woman on it. The woman, despite her unconscious state, was strikingly beautiful, her features sharp and flawless.

Emma sat up, confused. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry to wake you Emma. We're running out of space, and I hope you don’t mind if we put Veronica in here for now. She’s been comatose for a while, so she won’t cause any trouble. If she ever wakes up, that's when the trouble would start." Rita said with a tired smile.

"Why? What's her deal?" Emma said looking at the blonde haired beauty.

"You never heard of Veronica Steele before? Well count yourself lucky. She's a real piece of work. A week after she married the richest guy in town, her new husband fell mysteriously to his death. Of course no one could prove it was her but she didn't make it secret she enjoyed inheriting everything he had." Rita said as she hooked Veronica's bed up to the sensors.

"So how'd she end up in a coma?" Emma asked intrigued.

"Oh she partied a little too hard and over dosed. She loved to let loose any chance she could and she did it often. She broke up so many good relationships. That's why everyone called her the homewrecking queen. Although I know some who called her the Whorewrecker." Rita said blunted. She looked over at a shocked Emma.

"I'm sorry Emma, it's been a long shift, I don't know what I'm saying. I'll just hook up her IV and I'll be out of your hair. She'll only be here temporary, I promise." Rita said going back to finishing up.

Emma sighed and lay back down, pulling the thin hospital blanket up to her chest as Rita moved around the room. She closed her eyes as the nurse placed Veronica’s bag in the closet beside her bed and began setting up the IV drip.

Rita, clearly exhausted, fumbled with the tubing for a moment. Without a second thought, she connected Veronica to the same IV bag Emma was already attached to, her tired mind too clouded to notice the mistake.

"There we go," Rita mumbled, stepping back with a satisfied nod before quietly leaving the room.

As the room settled into silence, a soft bubbling sound came from the IV bag. A strange pink liquid began to seep from Veronica's drip, mixing with the clear solution. Slowly, it flowed down the tube, snaking its way toward Emma’s arm, the liquid now entering her bloodstream unnoticed.

As the minutes ticked by, Emma began to feel a strange sensation coursing through her body. What started as a faint warmth soon blossomed into a surge of energy, filling her veins with a vitality she had never felt. Her frail limbs, once thin and weak, began to fill out, muscles tightening and expanding beneath her skin.

Opening her eyes she watched in awe as her arms and legs transformed, growing stronger, more defined. The sensation was intoxicating, a rush of pure, exhilarating strength, but the best was yet to come.

Emma’s gaze dropped to her chest as a tingling sensation spread through her. Her boobs, once modest and unremarkable, began to swell, growing larger with each passing breath. She gasped as they expanded beyond anything she had ever seen on another woman, full and heavy, straining against her hospital gown.

Emma's eyes drifted to the IV connected to her arm. The pink liquid was pumping in rhythm into her body. She followed the tubing up to the bag and back over to the lifeless Veronica.

She noticed with shock that Veronica’s once voluptuous body had become gaunt and frail. Her once full tits had shrunk to barely noticeable proportions. The life force, the very essence of Veronica’s power, was being siphoned into her.

Instinctively, Emma reached to remove the IV, but just as her fingers touched the line, a seductive voice echoed in her mind saying "Don’t!"

The voice seemed at once comforting and commanding. Desirable and demanding. It continued.

"Veronica has no use for her beauty trapped in that coma. It would be such a waste to not use it, don't you think?" The voice purred in Emma’s mind.

Emma’s hand hovered over the IV, trembling. She knew she should take it out in hopes to reverse whatever was happening but she couldn't deny how increasing good she was feeling.

"She had her fun, isn't it time you had some of your own? Isn't it time you got to feel alive?" The voice continued. She tried to resist, tried to shake off the influence of the voice, but the logic it offered was undeniable. Why should Veronica have a perfect body when she was nothing more than a shell?

"After all the years of being weak and pathetic, haven't you earned this? Don't you deserve this?" The voice hissed pleasantly.

Despite herself, Emma felt her lips curl into a smirk, the seductive reasoning taking hold. The voice was right. She did deserve this. Why not take what was freely flowing into her veins?

Emma let out a slow breath and lay back down on the bed, sinking into the thin mattress, as the changes continued to ripple through her body. Her once dull and lifeless hair began to shimmer with health, growing longer, thicker, and cascading down her shoulders in luxurious waves.

Her lips, which had always been chapped and thin, plumped into a full, sensuous pout. Emma ran her tongue over them, feeling their newfound softness, a wicked smile tugging at the corners.

She held her hand out and watched as her nails, once brittle and short, lengthened and hardened into perfectly painted manicured talons. She ran her hands over her new tits with pleasure, giving them a joyful squeeze.

Her body was red hot with desire for her own form and she needed release. Pushing her hands further south, she slipped them under her hospital gown. Had she'd known how good long nails felt in her pussy she would have had them done every week.

She let out a moan of carnal delight as her fingers got soaked with her own juices. She watched in glee as her all blemishes on her skin started to erase. Her pale complexion began to tan, erasing the years spend inside under fluorescents.

As her body transformed, so too did her mind. Her sweet and caring nature, moulded by years of loneliness and illness, was getting corrupted. Where once she desired human connection now it sickened her. She didn't need anyone, not when she was superior to them.

She felt an overwhelming surge of narcissism, a belief that she was better than everyone else, more beautiful, more powerful. Her thoughts turned mean, dismissive of others. Vanity and arrogance took root, feeding off her new obvious beauty. The voice in her head was no longer an intruder. It was a reflection of her own desires.

"Yesssss! I feel so fucking alive!" She groaned as she continued to pump herself. She watched with an evil grin as the last of the pink liquid flowed into her body. She timed her climax to that moment perfectly and with one swift motion, she ripped the IV from her arm, feeling the rush of her transformation, her orgasm, and the last of Veronica's essence in one.

Emma swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, feeling the solid strength in her legs. She leaned over backwards, catching herself on the ground and flipping back onto her feet with ease. She wasn't just cured, she had evolved.

Each step toward Veronica was deliberate, confident. She stood over the frail, unconscious woman, a sneer curling her lips. Veronica had all the imperfections that once plagued Emma. Thinning weak hair, pockmarked skin, unathletic limbs, unremarkable beauty.

Emma turned to Veronica's closet and eagerly ripped it open. She began rifling through the expensive clothes and luxurious belongings. She pulled out designer dresses, delicate lingerie, and sparkling jewelry, tossing them onto the bed with a satisfied smirk. Each item felt like another piece of the life she was meant to have, now finally hers.

However she found the biggest prize inside a designer bag. Pulling out her wallet, Emma grinned at the plethora of credit cards just crying out to be used and abused. She took out Veronica's ID and stood in front of the mirror with it next to her.

"Yes of course I'm Veronica Steele, how dare you question me. I'll have you fired for even speaking to me worm." She said with a natural bratty tone that she knew would have everyone convinced she was Veronica in no time.

However out of the corner of her eye she saw something unexpected. Veronica was stirring. The transfer must have some how knocked her out of her coma. However Emma was not about to give up a life she had barely tasted. Picking up the pillow from her bed, Emma walked calmly but coldly over to Veronica.

---

Rita was having her 7th coffee of her shift, fighting against her drooping eyelids when the code blue alarm started to go off for Emma's room. The shock of the alarm was like taking seven coffees at once.

Rushing to the room she got in just time to see a blonde bombshell pulling the bedsheet over Veronica.

"I'm sorry nurse but the little urchin girl who was in here with me is gone. I think Emma was her name." Said the blonde, turning around with a face that conveyed no hint of sadness.

Despite her extreme transformation and the fact that she was in Veronica's designer clothes, Rita was not fooled by who the blonde was.

"Emma? What happened? You look…" Rita said before being cut off by Emma.

"Nurse Rita, you are delirious with exhaustion. I am Veronica Steele." Emma said, her voice smooth as silk but carrying a hint of menace.

"I don't know what has happened or what you have done to the real Veronica but it's ok we can fix this." Rita said bewildered but trying to get a grasp on the situation.

"Nurse you forget your place and you forget who you are talking to! I will buy this hospital and turn it into a landfill if you keep talking like this." Emma said, her ire palpaple. And yet Rita could not condone what was happening.

"No, this isn't right, I can't...." Rita said trailing off as Emma slowly approached her intimating her.

"Listen here you fucking cunt. You will report the unremarkable death of Emma Smith. You will also report on my miraculous recovery, Veronica Steele. If you don't I will see you hang for the death of that useless bag of bones laying over there. Understand?" Emma said with a whisper that was somehow more intense than her shouting.

Rita looked up at fear at the woman she had taken care of for years, seeing no part of her left.

"Y-yes... of course." Rita said trembling.

"Yes what?" Emma said starting to smirk.

"Y-yes... Ms. Steele." Rita replied. Emma satisfied and more than a little bit aroused at hearing her new name, stood back from Rita in triumphant.

"Good. Now go order me a fucking car." Emma said, turning her smirk into a cold pout. Rita quickly scurried out of the room.

Emma walked over to the closet and picked up the bag that contained the begins of her new life. She stepped over to the door and took one last look where the real Veronica lay.

"I wish I could say I was sorry, but that wouldn't be very Veronica of me." She said with a cackle as she left the room.

THE END

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #evil bitch #power transfer #cc2024 #transfusionconfusion

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jamil-s-wifey · 1 year

Note

Hello :3 Can I get a long scenario with my dearest Jamil?

I really love him so much >///< so here is my scenario, I hope you can accept

Jamil got sick and has a fever. MC stayed beside him and nursed him for 3 days without blinking and finally he recovered. He started to remember her care during his illness after his fever dropped. And when he woke up, MC hugged him tightly. A bit long, huh? 😅 I would be happy with little NSFW, not gonna lie.

Well hello there, fellow Jamil enthusiast~ It has certainly been a hot minute, hasn't it? It is my utmost pleasure to present you with the *long-awaited* scenario at hand! A bit of NSFW, some heart-warming fluff and Jamil finally getting a GODDAMN break, coming right up! It's not full on NSFW, just a lil bit, as requested, I don't know why it turned out like that- still, I hope this is good! (Tbh, it fits the scenario)

P.S. This hit close to home, I used to be a very sickly child and I still catch all sorta sicknesses a lot easier than normal people. So, what he will experience here is all based on very PERSONAL and very SALTY experience. 🙃

"What am I gonna do with you? You can't keep pushing yourself so much!" You murmured, pressing a cold cloth to Jamil's forehead as he slept soundly.

.......

Jamil hated being sick. Pretty normal right? Everybody hates being sick.

But to Jamil, sickness meant pushing through and continuing with his chores, regardless of his wellbeing. Imagine cooking above a hot stove with a high temperature. Can't be pleasant, can it?

But even the hardest stones could crack under enough force - such is the way the world works. It was towards the end of the day, as Jamil was preparing Kalim's dinner, when he felt his body give out under him. All day he'd been going around with a fever, he felt as if his own body was rotting on the inside, screaming at him to stop and have a break. His eyes were watery and felt as though they were burning in his eye sockets.

He couldn't even reach a chair to sit, before his knees buckled and he fell to the floor - too dizzy and too weak. Rarely did he ever get this sick, but this time it was bad. He moved to a more comfortable position and remained like that, trying to gather enough strength to get some medicine..... He most certainly didn't realise he'd fallen asleep, too tired to move, nor did he hear Kalim's worried voice when he found him on the floor in the kitchen.

And Kalim? Kalim was terrified! Quickly he called on his dorm members to move him to his room and immediately called you, crying on the phone, worried that Jamil might never wake up. (That's not how colds work, Kalim-) Worried about Jamil, you immediately rushed to the Scarabia dorm, medicine in hand.

_____________

And now here you are, in the present, taking extensive care of your near delirious not-quite-boyfriend-but-kinda-love-interest. He'd occasionally wake up and exchange barely audible pleasantries with you, drink his "extra healthy and full of good stuff" chicken soup (whatever that was supposed to entail) and then fall back into slumber. His fever has gone down drastically, but the utter exhaustion left in its wake has kept him bedridden. Apparently it was a seasonal fever, which just so happened to hit Jamil, who in turn chose to ignore it in the beginning.

You'd taken the liberty to remain situated in his room for about three days.

Day one was the worst - high fever, clattering teeth and a sleepless night to boot. You'd change his shirt every time he'd drench it in sweat whilst fighting off the fever. You'd switch up the cloth every time it lost its cooling effect, you'd remained by his side the entire time, least he needed something anything at all.

"Once you get better, I'm so gonna yell at you for not taking better care of yourself.... You're lucky I love you." You'd mumbled, barely audible in the quiet of the room as he slept.

Day two was better - he slept through most of it and you could in turn prepare some soup, as well as cover most of his chores, get a pass from the teachers AND even leave him some of your notes for when he recovers. (Look at you go! He'd better propose imo)

Now, on day three he was evidently much healthier. Finally he gave up trying to get out of bed, and instead lay resting, drinking his medicine, feeling utterly pampered by you.

_____________

"How long have you...been here?" You seemed pretty tired in his eyes. The moment you heard his voice you immediately threw yourself gently on him, gently crushing his bones in a hug.

"A while." You responded, face buried in his chest. In reality, you hadn't had a proper night of sleep in about 3 days. You DID sleep, Kalim even prepared a guest bedroom, but you chose to remain next to Jamil for most of the time. "Do you know how worried I was?"

"You didn't have to do all this, you know? You could've get sick too."

"I could've, but I haven't. For somebody with such a keen eye and monstrous deliberation, you really don't know how to take care of yourself properly." You quipped back, moving to sit on the bed next to him.

"As, so I'm being reprimanded now." His gaze softened. "Thank you....for taking care of me these last few days... I've forgotten what it's like to not have to worry or do anything... I feel like I've slept a lifetime... I don't know how I could possibly return the favour."

You can't stay mad at him. He knows it, you know it. Hell, even the Great Seven know it.

"Return it by recovering completely."

He chose not to continue the conversation. He knew arguing was pointless.

"You know, while I was sleeping, or trying to, I was mostly aware of what was happening around me." He began, pushing himself up, in a sitting position. "When you'd quietly hum to yourself, or cuss when you couldn't find something..."

"Ah- well, did you now? Sorry if you had a difficult time falling asleep because of me. " you felt your cheeks warm up a bit.

"No no, please. It's fine. You've taken such good care of me. I just... couldn't help but hear something, which perhaps I wasn't meant to."

He reached out, tangling his hand in your hair.

"Something about you loving me?"

...

Nope, all that heat in your cheeks? Gone. Now it was just coldness and dread.

He saw your frazzled state and chuckled. "I guess I'm really lucky, to have you to take *such* good care of me, huh."

He leaned in, but stopped just centimetres away.

"I shouldn't."

You heart dropped even lower, if that was even possible.

"I could get you sick.~" There was a lilt to his voice, but his eyes showed concern.

"Oh, for fuck's sake-" you leaned in, smashing your lips onto his. He smiled into the kiss, pulling you towards him.

Naturally, you moved to sit in his lap, his hands moving to your waist.

"Your feelings are returned, for the record." He mumbled in between heated kisses. The more heated the kisses became, the more his hands would wander until-

In the blink of an eye, he flipped you over, so that you were underneath him. Skillfully he unbuttoned the first few buttons of your uniform, revealing more of your neck and collarbones. "I think I have a way of returning the favour. You took such good care of me, I think it's my turn~"

His attention moved to your neck, leaving heated languid kisses and playful bites on your skin. His hand trailed down to spread your legs, moving between them. Every single touch of his was intoxicating. Pretty quickly your shirt was thrown on the floor, the supple flesh underneath - covered in hickeys.

"Are you not going to undress as well? Or should I do that for you?" you asked, breathless, yet teasing in manner. Well. As teasing as one could get, given how achingly turned on you were. "Like you didn't have more than enough time to appreciate the view, during these last few days." he teased right back, but his hands moved to grip the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time." He practically purred, fingers gliding over your stomach, gently trailing lower and lower.

"Of course, you can tell me to stop anytime."

"I don't want you to."

"As you wish, my dear. Then I'll make sure to indulge, taking, tasting, touching every single part of you. "

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chronicallyuniconic · 1 year

Text

"You were fine as a child/teen"-Was I though?

I've been told countless times that it's unfathomable, that it doesn't make sense, that I am chronically ill now, because I was "healthy" growing up, I was "active" and "normal."

"you were fine" they say

Frustratingly, they are wrong. I was not "fine" and I masked my symptoms heavily. In a lot of cases I didn't know that what I was going through was abnormal.

I remember the many times a year (every month/every other month) I was ill with cold & flu, tonsillitis, chickenpox, rashes, broken bones, sprains, stomach problems, pain and exhaustion.

I remember the 2 years in my teens where I had chronic knee and leg pain that was blamed on growing pains. It affected me so much my attendance in school dropped to 62% & irritated my mum so much that I failed to continue finding medical care for it and "carried on" as if I was fine.

Growing up, being ill was a burden, almost not allowed. If you were ill, you were an annoyance, a nuisance, forced to get on with it. It irritated the people around you, if you were ill with a n y t h i n g in my childhood home.

I remember throughout my whole childhood that at least one week out of the month, I'd get so exhausted I would come home from school and go straight to sleep until shouted down for dinner and I'd go back to bed.

Many times I remember coming home from school and college absolutely depleted of everything and faceplanting on my bed for 2 to 3 hours.

I remember how much I wanted to be involved in some activities but didn't have the energy and was accused of being lazy, anti social or ungrateful of opportunities.

I remember being hospitalised with chronic stomach pains, they suspected appendicitis, but when they could find nothing I was released home with nothing further done for another 15 years. I was accused of attention seeking or just wanting to skip out school.

I remember being unable to tell anybody how I felt whether it was physical or mental. When I did reach out I was told I'm too soft, I'm being dramatic, I'm just making it all up. When I did say "I'm in pain" I was told its not that bad, I'm not dying and that I "won't get any sympathy" from them.

When I went to University & got freshers flu, I was bed-bound for 9 weeks but told it was depression.

Eventually, I couldn't carry on from all the above. Now I'm bed-bound/housebound for life.

Please, tell me again, that I was "fine"

#chronic life #chronic pain #chronically ill #chronic illness #chronic fatigue #spoonie problems #fibromyalgia #myalgic encephalomyelitis #pots #ptsd #joint pain #chronic disability #chronic fatigue syndrome

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thelilfae · 8 months

Text

a loooong gt scenario cus I was thinkin bout it!

ok so the sick and nursing back to health trope is hands down my FAVORITEEEE I EAT IT UP EVERY TIMEEE 💗💗💗 I just neeeeed to talk about it

especially when it's a tiny with their crush!! the tiny already feeling woozy under normal circumstances by just being around their crush, heart beating, face flushed,, and then suddenly- you catch a cold; now adding the feeling of being weak and helpess around the person you admire [which sends you into a flurry of embarrassment] AND becoming a little delirous that it almost feels like a dream. falling ill so suddenly because your small size makes you more seceptable to tempature and airborne illness, such that you stumble as you cough and shiver, nearly toppling over, but they catch you right in time. now requiring care and physical nuturing immediately. and you are whisked away, scooped into their arms, their gigantic fingers wrapped around you. you can feel each enormous booming footstep in your soul, and you hear their heart beating loudly as they run faster to get you inside

they tuck you in a soft bed and speak to you softly, the softness still being a loud whisper that travels your while body which makes you tingle, so you pull up your blanket up to your eyes to quickly hide your embarrassment. they don't leave your bedside for long, always checking up on you, bringing you cold towels and warm soup; lifting your head to help you eat and lowering you back down so gently that you can feel the softness of their fingertip as it presses into your neck- your heartbeat now beating twice as fast from both the fever and there face being so close to yours, the stomach pain now twice as much as you get butterflies if they so much as graze there finger across your forehead to check your temperature.

then the drowsiness that comes after the initial symptoms, your exhausted from the fluttering feelings, weak limbs, and constant coughing that the flustered feeling is now turning into a lulling fever dream~ you feel safe now, you grab there finger unknowingly as you drift to sleep, and saying nonsensical things in your sleep and making little noises throughout the night, and maybe cough occasionally

and they are absolutely smitten. They almost can't contain themselves; struggling to keep quiet and let them rest and recover, worrying about every little sound or movement. just want to hold you close and never let you go. seeing you so helpess and dependent is somehow so cute- thinking how they always want to be there for you in times like this, to cherish you and nurture them for every second of every day and make evey bit of you feel loved, even when your whole body aches

and I uhh.. whoops I got carried away bgfdjvgnd can you tell its my favorite!? I will take every excuse to put my ocs in this scenario it's just toooo cuuute OH and this also works with a like major injury, like -the hurt trope- in general its my bread and butter 🥺

#g/t #giant/tiny #gt #giant tiny #sfw gt #sfw g/t #g/t related #gianttiny #g/t community #g/t writing #g/t scenario

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ellieluvr420 · 6 months

Text

Eye for an Eye Pt.4

MASTERLIST (and information about Palestine) Please read!

SYNOPSIS: Your body yearned for the touch of your girlfriend, the warm embrace that calmed your mind but you couldn't give in, the anger you harboured for her at disappearing with her group for three months without any warning, explanation or even a mention of when she would be back stopped you in your tracks any time you got close to giving in. You loved Abby so much but looking at her made you sick, you couldn't push the feelings down no matter how much you craved for things to go back to what they once were. You hadn't planned this but the anguish in those green eyes mirrored yours and sucked you in before you could think twice about the repercussions of your actions. You made your bed when you made the deal with the auburn-haired stranger, eventually you'd have to lie in it.

I want to quickly stress that this is a darker fic and there will be a lot of darker, possibly triggering themes to do with mental health throughout so take that as a warning. I likely won't do warnings for each part because part of this fic for me is that you don't know what's going to happen until you read it so please do not read if you find graphic descriptions of mental illness and topics surrounding that triggering. But if you do read, thank you so much, this story is really important to me and I appreciate any interaction whatsoever!

Had this in my drafts and wasn’t gonna post until i finished chap 21 of friends?never but @moonspowder is holding their breath so had to get a move along 🤗

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You waited for Abby to fall asleep, it didn’t take long, she was clearly exhausted from the day of crying and grieving her beloved friends. You watched her sleep for a little while, imagining what it would look like when she wouldn’t wake again but you dragged yourself away to pack your backpack ready to go back to Ellie. You grimaced at the thought of seeing Ellie again, after your dramatic exit earlier you were sure you wouldn’t get a warm greeting but you didn’t care either way. You were going to make sure Nora died, not to see her.

The walk there was tranquil, you heard a few screeches here and there but that was normal, it didn’t bother you, you had managed to sneak into the weapon armoury as its never got someone working it overnight and you were quite adept at picking locks so the added weight of your weapons and ammunition in your backpack acted as an anchor, comforting you and keeping you on this plane of existence instead of floating away into your mind like you had been all day. You had a rifle over your shoulder and Ellie’s switchblade in your hand, every time you looked down at it you smiled at the memory of pointing her own knife at her as you left earlier, it felt like you were mocking her and you liked it.

You practically skipped up the steps of the fire escape, bounding in through the window gracefully and sauntering through to the stage where she was already sitting on one of the chairs in the front row waiting for you. You smirked at her as you made your way towards her where she scowled at you.

“You’re a fucking bitch you know that?” She spat.

“Well that’s not very nice.”

“I specifically asked you not to tell Jesse and you tell him at the first opportunity. What the fuck was that for?”

“Payback.” She rolls her eyes and stands, holding out her hand, you look at her puzzled until you remember the switchblade still firmly planted in your palm. You fold it back together and place it in your back pocket as you smile.

“You’re being weird, what’s wrong with you?”

“You don’t know what’s weird and what isn’t with me Ellie, you don’t know me so stop acting like you do ‘kay?” That didn’t help, stop being so defensive. She was right, this wasn’t you but if you had been you, you would’ve let her kill you before you agreed to hurt Abby, but you’re not you, and that’s the point. “I didn’t come here to chat so are you ready?”

“Yep.” You turn on your heel and start walking back towards the window.

“Jesse not joining us?”

“No, he needs to rest his ankle and he’s not the biggest fan of you so it was best he stayed.”

“Can’t imagine why he doesn’t like me.” You flash a coy grin over your shoulder and Ellie chuckles before she can even think to hold it in which makes her scowl in your direction even more. As you bend over to crawl through the window you feel Ellie’s fingers brush against your ass before a hand comes up and grabs your hip, holding you in place. You squirm and curse at her as her free hand dives into your pocket and retrieves her switchblade. You glare at her over your shoulder, and she sticks her tongue out at you. Childish. Even the subtle blush of her cheeks angered you as you made your way down the fire escape, her following closely behind.

As you trailed along the dark paths of Seattle towards the park you planned to cut through, you wondered what could have happened if you had met Ellie before, under better circumstances. You know if you had met her before you had been ruined, darkened by the torment of love and hatred, you would have liked her, found her charming. Anything that you would’ve liked about her only drove you further from her, the thought of getting close to someone again, feeling for someone again, it made your blood run cold. You’d do whatever you had to do to keep your distance until everything was over.

You reach a dead end that has you huffing as you notice the double doors slightly ajar to your right. “Fuck’s sake.” You mutter to yourself as Ellie comes to stand next to you.

“What?”

“Was hoping we wouldn’t have to cut through any buildings, but I guess I was wrong.”

“No hold on a minute, if you can get me to the top of the wall I can pull you up.” You quirk an eyebrow at her, challenging her declaration, it wasn’t that you didn’t think she was strong, it was just a very high wall, it seemed like a long shot.

“Well worth a try because these buildings are crawling with infected typically.” She nods and you walk to the wall, pressing your back against it and cupping your hands together.

“You ready?” She checks as she puts her foot into your hands.

“As I’ll ever be.” You nod and in sync she jumps up as you boost her and somehow she actually manages to grasp onto the top edge and pull herself up. It was impressive to watch, you hadn’t met anyone as adept as Abby until you met her. She lowers herself down and reaches an arm out to you.

“Just jump and grab my hand and then don’t fucking let go okay?”

“Yeah I got it.” You take a breath and leap as high as you can, the second you feel your hand in hers, you breathe a sigh of relief, she starts slowly pulling you up and the second you can you grab onto the ledge to help her for the last bit. Once you’re both over the wall she stands with her hands on her hips and a smug look on her face. “I swear if you say I told you so.”

“I wasn’t gonna say a thing, you said it for me.” She smiles and you continue walking without looking to see if she followed but you know she has from the faint patter of her footsteps.

The entrance to the park comes into view at the same time that you hear a high-pitched whistling. “The fuck is that?” Ellie whispers.

“Scars. We’ll take it slow and just try and sneak around them okay, keep your head down and stay quiet.”

“Yes ma’am.” You glare at her before creeping forward, this time checking she’s following. The whistles grew louder as you moved deeper into the forest until you heard a blood-curling scream, followed by begs and pleads from another WLF soldier. “What the fuck.” Ellie whispers next to you as you both see the soldiers strung up from trees, one with his organs dangling from his body and the other flailing about desperately as he screams and tries to bargain for his life. “Do you know them?”

“Yeah I know the one they haven’t cut open yet. Daniel.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be, I’m not.” She scoffs in disbelief at your bluntness as you keep moving until you hear the swish of an arrow cutting through air and the fleshy squelch of it landing in a body. You turn to see Ellie lying on the floor grunting as she yanks at the arrow. You immediately spot the scar heading straight for you and you lunge at her, digging your knife into her neck and yanking it out, her blood splattering over you, painting you skin red. Just more blood on your hands. It will all be over soon. You return to Ellie and kneel beside her. “Hey, hey, let me do it.” She nods and as you snap the arrow so you can pull it out easier, she gasps and squeezes your arm as she clamps her eyes shut. Her hand burns your skin, you needed to get this done quickly.

“You better be right-handed.” You say trying to lighten the mood as you yank the arrow from her left shoulder, she whimpers slightly but as soon as it’s out, she breathes a sigh of relief.

“Yeah I’m right-handed.” She watches as you pull your backpack off and retrieve a bandage from the front pocket. “You came prepared.”

“I was actually planning to leave this time so yeah I did. Take your shirt off.”

“Wh- why?”

“So I can wrap this bandage around it. I’m not tryna cop a feel, relax. Just take your arm out of the shirt.”

“Right.” She winces as she pulls her left arm from the shirt and you press the end of the bandage to the seeping wound before grabbing her hand and pressing it onto the hole firmly. You wrap the bandage round her shoulder and under her armpit as tight as you can before ripping it and tying it off then helping her back into her shirt.

“You okay?”

“Yeah but we need to keep moving.” You help her up and begin sprinting towards the exit of the park until you’re no longer surrounded by foliage, instead comforted by the urban forest that you found a lot easier to navigate.

“See through those two buildings there, that’s the hospital. We’re not that far away now.” You were half telling yourself that and half telling her. It’s not like it would get easier the closer you got to the hospital, but the closer you got, the closer Nora was to meeting her demise. That’s why you were here. To make sure she died, that’s it.

₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The sound of ‘it was a good day’ by Ice Cube rang through the halls, one of yours and Abby’s favourite’s. You thought it was ironic, that particular song playing while Nora gets slaughtered, poetic almost. “There’s a door on the other side of the room, I’m gonna go round and make sure she can’t run through there. Just wait a couple minutes before you go in, yeah?”

“You’re not coming in with me?” And let Nora blow yours and Abby’s relationship wide open? No, you were not going in there.

“No, I’m gonna make sure no one comes and finds us. Why? You want a little company?”

“You made your point.”

“Make it hurt.” You mutter before walking off round the corner to go find the door. The song ringing through your ears causing a slideshow of memories with Abby to flash through your mind, you shake them away as the door comes into view, you press your ear to the door and as you hear Ellie’s voice inside you get to work barricading the door, you slam yourself into the large metal cabinet to scrape it across the floor until it’s firmly in front of the door. You moved slowly to make as little noise as possible, the music covering your plight well. You go back to pressing your ear against the door just as you hear Ellie’s disgruntled voice.

“You fucking cunt- Agh!” A crash and then the handle shaking violently as Nora tries to make her escape, you can’t stop yourself from popping up in the glass pane of the door and smiling with a little wave and tilt of your head. She whispers your name as her face screws up before you disappear from the glass again leaving her and Ellie alone. You shouldn’t be enjoying this, you barely felt human anymore, it’s her fault, it’s their fault, it’s your own fault too but you’d fix that soon enough. You appear at the other door and glance through the window. Nora’s on the floor, unmoving as Ellie stands over her with a large metal pipe in her hand, the end dripping with crimson. You notice the tremor of the pipe, the rigid stance of Ellie as she stands over Nora, and then she thrashes the pipe down onto her, again and again. Was this what Ellie had witnessed when she found you at Hillcrest? You needed to get moving so you enter the room quietly and as she lifts the pipe again you grab it and yank it out of her hand. She spins to face you and you feel like she might kill you there and then for stopping her. “You got her. We gotta go.” She nods and lets you lead her out of the room, and out of the hospital into the cool night air. She doesn’t speak, she doesn’t move without a nudge from you, she doesn’t notice when a runner creeps up on her from behind until you’re ripping it off of her, throwing it to the ground and stomping its head into the cement underneath you. If you don’t sort her out soon, she’d get you both killed so you drag her into a nearby house, sitting her down on the sofa before checking it’s clear and securing the doors and windows then returning to her. “Ellie, I need you to focus. We need to get back to the theatre, so I need you to focus.”

“I- I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why?”

“I should’ve just killed her. I’m as bad as them. I made it hurt.” She looked up at you and suddenly that familiar feeling you thought you were free from comes rushing back like it had never left. Guilt was crushing, it was worse than any physical pain you could ever describe. Your whole body ached and twinged as every nerve felt like it was on fire. You crouched down to make her look at you, attempting to distract yourself from your own inner turmoil with hers.

“Ellie, look at me.” Her eyes flick up to yours as you cup her cheeks with your hands. “She fucking deserved it, they all deserve it. You’re gonna do this and you’re gonna go back home and forget about this place and everything in it. You’re gonna go be happy with your girlfriend and your friends and you’re gonna move on but you have to make it out of here alive first, so I need you to focus.” She doesn’t say anything, she just mirrors your own hands as she cups your cheeks, your skin burns.

“I don’t know how to be happy anymore, I don’t think I can go back to the life I had before all of this.” She leans in and your eyes widen as you put a hand on her chest.

“Ellie, don’t do this to yourself. Dina is what you need.”

“I don’t know how to be what she needs.” She leans in again and you can’t shake the feeling you’re taking advantage of her, she’s vulnerable, she’s grieving, you can’t do this.

“Ellie, you don’t want this. You’re confused, this would be a mistake that you’ll regret every day. Think about Dina.”

“She doesn’t look at me the same anymore, Jesse doesn’t other, they don’t get it. You do. Please, I know what I need, I need this. I need to feel real, like I’m not just a heartless killer, I know you understand that.” Fuck, she’s right. You know it’s wrong, everything’s wrong, she’s not Abby but in your eyes, Abby isn’t Abby anymore. She changed and she changed you with her. Why did cheating feel so wrong when you were fantasising and planning on killing her? Why did you feel bad for a girl you hadn’t even seen? Everything you were doing was driving you further into that bottomless black pit that you’d never escape from. It was pointless trying to fight the darkness slowly squeezing the life out of you, so why are you still trying? It would all go away soon so why fight it? You started all of this because the hurt they had enacted on you caused a large gaping abscess to form where your heart used to be but now, now you had lost control, blinded by your rage, by your bloodlust. She was right, you needed to feel real, just once more before it all ends, before everything catches up to you, it would sooner or later, catch up to you. You just needed to feel real.

You sighed and looked into her eyes before nodding gently and leaning towards her, closing the already small gap between you both. Your lips pressed together, cautiously at first, her hands moving down to your hips and squeezing tentatively. This wasn’t right, you half expected to see a monster looking back at you next time you looked in a mirror, how could a broken heart do this much damage? Were you overreacting? Were you like this all along and Abby just gave you an excuse to show your true colours? You just needed comfort, affection, from someone who hadn’t set your heart on fire and stomped it into the ground. You just needed some comfort.

Ellie sucked your tongue into her mouth as you straddled her hips, desperation seeping through your pores as you latched onto her hair and yanked her head back to give you access to her neck, you pecked at the skin just below her ear and as you went to suck you had to stop yourself, you couldn’t leave any traces of your evil on her pale skin. Her hands squeezed at your thighs as she nudged your cheek with her nose to get you to face her once again. The air was dense, it was clogging your throat, any time you pulled away you felt like the air was sucked out of you and your body was being crushed. You couldn’t take it, you couldn’t understand how it made you feel so much more immoral than anything you had done over the past few days, yet it still made you feel alive for the first time in months.

Ellie could barely think, barely function, all she could focus on was your lips on hers as her hands roamed your body. Any time Dina would pop into her mind she’d just press herself further into you, it blocked everything else out. How could she go back to her normal life, after everything, after you? She knew you didn’t feel the same way, she could tell, this was just a necessity to you, a distraction, but to her, it was everything, it was like you were letting her be the version of her that rose from the ashes of Joel’s death, not trapping her in a cage of who she used to be.

“I’m sorry Ellie, I’m so, so sorry.” Your voice was cracking and trembling as you spoke but when you opened your eyes to see hers still closed, no reaction to what you had said, the panic set in. Not again. “I’m sorry Ellie, please hear me, I’m sorry, I’ve ruined you too. I’m sorry.” You were practically screaming as tears rolled down your cheeks. This time her eyes snapped open again but they were only filled with lust, something else that you couldn’t decipher but you didn’t want to.

“I needed this too, thank you.” She breathed out and your stomach churned, your hand immediately going to your cheek to feel that it was completely dry, you heaved at the feeling and jumped off of her, you’ve lost it, you’re barely connected to your body anymore, some outside force controlling it.

Her eyes went glassy as her jaw dropped open slightly at your sudden change in demeanour. “Did I do something wrong?” Her voice was small, shameful as she averted her eyes from your manic ones.

“No I- I heard something, we need to move, we’re too close to the hospital.”

“Oh... okay.” She looked like a beaten puppy as she stood and grabbed her backpack, wincing at the pain in her shoulder. You tore your eyes away from her to look out the window and make sure it was safe to leave before turning back to her and taking in her features, her hair messy and tangled, her cheeks blushed, and her lips parted as her chest rose and fell heavily. You stared as she stared back until you took a breath and went to reach for the doorhandle, but it wasn’t there. Instead, your fingers found the bottom of the window that you had left ajar upon your exit of the theatre. You snapped your head towards it and screeched as you yanked it upwards and threw yourself through the opening. You turned back and you felt your body go cold as Abby was standing behind you, climbing through the window with eyes so dark you thought they were black. The blue was no longer there, replaced by inky darkness that matched the background, the theatre seeping away from your vision and leaving only you and her. You screamed and cried as she inched closer to you, you tried to scramble away but she snatched your ankle back towards her and climbed on top of you, squeezing your chin as her eyes stared into your soul and sucked it out of you. Your whole body tingled before going numb as a single tear rolled down your cheek at the sick grin that twisted her lips upwards mocked you.

“Hey, come on, wake up, fuck please wake up, what the fuck?” Ellie’s voice boomed through your head, light blinded you as you used every ounce of strength in you to open your eyes only to come face to face with Ellie peering over you. “What the fuck was that? You just passed out as you went through the window.”

“S-sorry, I- I dunno what happened.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t fucking know.” You could never tell her what you had seen, what was happening to you, you couldn’t even begin to verbalise it. You sat up and surveyed your surroundings, you were at the theatre, you had blacked out for at least an hour, best case. You needed to fix this, you needed to get home before Abby wakes up.

“Are you okay? Let me help you up.” She goes to lift you up but you smack her hands away, you didn’t know why you were agitated but you were, you needed her not to touch you or look at you or breathe near you because your skin was itching and you felt like you were a bomb seconds away from exploding.

“I got it, I’m fine, okay? I’m probably just over-tired.” You walk away from her and disappear through the curtains as she follows you down to the chairs where you dropped your backpack and began pacing. She sat beside the backpack and pulled her arm out of her grey t-shirt once again to look at the bandages that were now stained red and leaking onto the hand she pressed on the wound.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got anymore bandages you wouldn’t mind sharing.”

“Yeah, front pocket of my backpack.” You would’ve got them for her but you couldn’t stand still right now, you needed to keep moving as you begged for the memory of the journey from the hospital to the theatre to return to you but there was not even a second of it you could remember.

Ellie watched you for a second before going to the front pocket of your backpack and routing around it. Her hands brushed over something thin and smooth, a piece of paper but not like the paper in her journal, like film almost. She knew she shouldn’t snoop but you didn’t seem like the type to share and she just wanted to know more about you so she flipped the polaroid over to look at the picture and the sight made bile rise to her throat as she clutched it and brought it closer to her face. You were completely unaware of her actions as your back was turned to her mostly but her eyes still flicked between you and the polaroid. “What the fuck is this?” She spat as she stood and stormed over to you.

“Hm?” You turned and immediately a polaroid fluttered at you, landing on the floor at your feet. Your hand shook as you picked it up and realised what she was talking about. The polaroid was of you and Abby, her kissing your cheek and you beaming at the camera, with ‘my love’ written in sharpie on the thick white border. “I- Ellie...” You whispered as you refused to look up at her.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?” Her hands thrust you backwards sending you stumbling as she reaches behind her jeans and yanks her pistol out, aiming it right at your heart. You don’t move, you don’t look away, you just stare back at her eyes that were fiery with rage as her lips sneered at you.

tags: @emiliabby @liasxeatt @kawaiibreadbouquet-blog @tphmnv@a-little-bit-of-everybody@chrry1ovr

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bloodstainedsaint · 10 months

Text

loose lips sink ships (lewis nixon x medic! reader)

summary: lewis nixon's alcoholism has been getting worse. you, a medic of easy company, are responsible for the well-being of the men, so you're sent to babysit look after an inebriated lew.

word count: 2100+

warnings: pathetic attempts (multiple) at comedy, drinking, alcoholism, drunken love confessions, lil pining, lil angst, nixon being a lil shit and a cheater??? but his wife divorces him so idk

notes: sorry if this is sloppy 😭 writing dialogue is hard

Your first time speaking to Captain (actually, you weren't sure of his rank anymore— you'd heard he'd gotten demoted to Battalion S3 by Colonel Sink recently) Lewis Nixon was after Operation Market Garden, where he got lightly burned by a stray shot to his helmet. You recalled it going something like this:

“You’re lucky to be alive, sir,” you said at the aid station where the then Lieutenant Winters had sent Nixon to get his graze checked, though there was really no use for it.

“I sure feel lucky,” he responded with a weird, almost dazed stare at you, as if you were some kind of angel sent from heaven to save him from his minor injury.

You met his eyes with a slightly raised eyebrow and assumed that he was just coming to terms with his brush with death. “You'll be fine, sir. Just try not to be in the trajectory of any other stray bullets, and you'll stay that way.”

He nodded and procured a flask from his pocket. “You drink?”

You narrowed your eyes at the container. “I try not to on the job.”

“Well, cheers to being alive, then,” he said, taking a swig.

“...Cheers.”

Following that encounter, you found yourself worrying about the officer more than you thought was normal— if a medic being especially troubled over one soldier was normal at all. Your eyes would search for him in a sea of people to see how tired or hungover he appeared. Whenever you got a chance to talk to him, you would brew him coffee or tea to help with his hangovers, seeing as medicine was always scarce and never spare enough to freely hand out.

You weren't sure where your worry for his well-being came from, but whatever it was, it wasn't quelled by the way he would ask you to stay and chat while he finished his cup— if you weren't busy, of course. The wry grin he would occasionally flash at you was burned into your mind, and his sardonic wit along with his competence as an officer, regardless of his love for alcohol, was impressed upon you. In these fleeting moments of peace, you learned of his rather privileged upbringing, his military background, and that he had a family waiting for him back home. Despite not even knowing what your own intentions were getting close to him, when he told you that last fact, your heart sank a little in your chest.

Your concern for him grew with the recent news that his alcoholism had reared its head again while the company was sent to idly occupy Germany. Someone had broken into a drugstore earlier that week; you'd suspected it was Lew scrounging around for booze. Though the war was coming to an end, he’d been looking more exhausted and ill-tempered as of late. You had yet to really talk to him about how he was holding up; in the meantime, you had been eyeing him from afar, trying to gauge where he was physically and mentally, your heart breaking at how you rarely saw him smile or laugh anymore. Everyone in the company had changed after Bastogne, but you suspected it was his disastrous third combat jump that prompted him to hit the bottle this time.

Now in Landsberg, you were in the middle of playing cards with some of the men in your billet’s living room when Major Winters knocked on the doorway.

“(Y/N),” he called. “Could I speak with you?”

You placed your cards on the table face up, presenting your good hand to the men who groaned in unison at the sight. “Coming, sir.”

As Winters brought you down the hall, you pondered what could be so important that the Major would come personally to speak to you, of all people.

He stopped in the middle of the hall and turned to you, seeming to have read your mind. “It's about Nixon.”

Your eyebrows creased slightly in concern. “Oh. Nixon.”

“Yeah, you know him?” Winters offered a dry smile that you returned.

“What happened?”

“I'm worried about him. Ever since his jump with the 17th Airborne, he’s been drinking more than usual.”

You sighed and cast your eyes downward. “I've heard.”

“I’d like you to look after him for a while. For tonight, at least. Make sure he doesn't drink himself into a coma.”

“Me?” You looked back up at him. “Why not Doc Roe?”

“You’ve been taking care of him for a while, (Y/N). I've noticed.” He didn't sound accusing in the slightest, yet you felt your cheeks warm from embarrassment. Winters continued in a slightly more conspiratorial voice, “And Nix asked for you specifically.”

You fought the blush creeping up to your ears. “Is that right…I'll, uh, have to lord that over Eugene.”

The corner of Winters’ lips quirked up knowingly. “Of course.”

He placed a hand on your shoulder. “Good luck, Doc. He's in his room. You know how to get there.”

Winters turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the hallway. It was true that you knew which house he was quartered in; you made it a point to know ever since you began treating his hangovers. However, the thought of being alone with Lew was always nerve-wracking and had been from the start, for reasons you didn't have the courage to explore.

With a glass of water and a book in hand, anticipating him to be knocked out from all the liquor in his system, you knocked on the door to his room. As you expected, there was no response save for the soft snoring coming from within. You opened the door a sliver and found the floral-wallpapered room lit up with a bedside lamp and the moonlight pouring in from the open window as the day spanned into night. You spotted a messy-haired head poking out from under the strewn blankets and smelled whiskey in the air. Upon fully opening the door and entering the room, the snoring abruptly stopped. He slurred, half-muffled by the pillow his face was buried in, “Who's there?”

“It’s (Y/N),” you replied, turning on some more lamps around the space.

“Oh. Hey, (Y/N).” Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. It wasn’t the first time you'd seen him in just a tanktop and shorts, his dog tags dangling around his neck, but he had always been half-conscious from a hangover when you saw him like this. Not awake and actively drunk like he was now. “How're you?”

“You're on your way to liver failure, Lewis,” you said sternly as you pulled up a chair next to his bed. “As for me, I'm doing better than you right now.”

He pouted petulantly. “You only call me Lewis when you're mad at me.”

You shot him a look. “And why would I be mad at you?”

“I dunno, you tell me.” Nixon gave you a lazy smile.

You sighed, directing your glare to the bottle of whiskey on the nightstand, which you observed was not even his favorite brand of Vat 69. You handed him the glass of water. “Here, drink up.”

Squinting, he sniffed it. “It's not more liquor, is it?”

“No, it's motor fuel, now drink.”

“Oh no, not more ethanol,” he joked, raising the glass in a cheers motion before downing it and clumsily setting the empty glass on the nightstand. He kept his gaze on you as you sat down, opened up your book, and attempted to read, avoiding his stare.

Crossing his arms behind his neck at your efforts to ignore him, he leaned on the headboard. “What is that? Twain? Poe? Ah, Shakespeare? ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’”

You spared a glance at him. “Sometimes I forget you're a scholar, Lew.”

“Ohoho. Try to play some Beethoven and tell me it's Mozart. I’ll figure it out”—he snaps—“like that.”

“Not in this state you will,” you glowered. Nix retained his expectant countenance, so you answered, “It's A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Some of the guys got done reading it, so now it's my turn.”

He hummed. “What’s it about then, Miss (Y/N)? Enlighten me.”

“If you’d let me read it, then I could tell you,” you said, continuing in a lower voice, "How are you an intelligence officer if you're this mouthy when drunk...and you're drunk most of the time."

“You say somethin’?”

“Nothing, Lew.” You tried to take in the words on the page, but the way he was looking at you made your skin feel hot. Exhaling and setting down your book, you turned your focus to him.

“You still hiding Vat 69 in Winters’ footlocker?” you asked, silently cursing the satisfied expression that spread over his face at your attention.

“Wha, hey, how'd you know about that?”

“You told me. While half-asleep and hungover.”

His lips stretched into a smile as he seemed to recall. “That I did. See, the real shame is that there’s not a single drop of the thing in the whole damn country. So no, there’s no booze in Dick’s footlocker.”

You glanced again at the unfamiliar bottle of whiskey on the nightstand. “And that’s why you've been drinking alternatives?”

“Beggars can't be choosers.” He shrugged with a sluggish wave of the hand. “I'm half-convinced you and Dick are hiding some from me!”

You chuckled. “That's not a half-bad idea. It wouldn't stop you from getting drunk off other kinds of hooch, though. Speaking of… why'd you start drinking this time?”

“Oh, you know.” He gestured vaguely. “I got divorced. She sent me a letter in the mail. Real sweet of her.”

Your face fell, the mood suddenly not so lighthearted. “...I’m sorry to hear that, Nix.”

“It’s alright. Didn’t like her much anyway. She took the dog.” A beat of silence passed, and he gave you an unreadable look. “Was kinda waitin' for it anyhow.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Waiting for it? But before you could question it, you noticed his eyelids drooping as he uncrossed his arms from behind his neck to cover a yawn with his hands. You figured it was better to let him rest before pressing him on it.

“You settling down now?” you asked, getting up to brush his unkempt hair from his face and check his temperature with the back of your hand.

“Yeah,” he murmured. He settled into his bed before tiredly swatting your hand away, complaining, “I’m not hungover yet!”

A slight smile graced your face. “Not gonna piss into a cup this time, are you?”

“Maybe next time,” he said with a smirk before blearily staring at you for a while, like the same way he did all those months ago in Holland. Your heart felt strangled in your chest.

Clearing your throat, you turned and grabbed your book and the glass. “Goodnight, Lew.”

He blinked up at you. “You’re leaving?”

“I’ve got people who need me,” you said, a small laugh bubbling up from your throat.

“What if I need you?”

“Beside a hangover, you'll be fine,” you smiled, believing he was joking until you looked at him and found his face dead serious, almost pleading. Your eyes had to be deceiving you, right? Or maybe your mind was spinning things the wrong way.

He propped himself up on his elbows. “Before you leave," he started, breaking his gaze for a second before meeting yours. "You're really beautiful, you know that?”

You were stunned into silence with widened eyes, floundering for words. “Lew, I…”

“And don't say, ‘You’re drunk, Lewis, you don't know what you're talking about.’ I’ve liked you for months now, (Y/N). Sometimes it feels like I'm fighting this war for you, so we could be together after.” Somehow his voice was the steadiest it’s been the entire night, and that scared you.

You suddenly felt bashful, afraid he could hear your heart pounding loud in your chest. “I…like you, too, Lew.”

A soft beam adorned his flushed face. “And if I forget in the morning, I’ll just tell you again. I’ll tell you over and over until it's the only thing I can remember piss-drunk.”

“I’ll be making sure you're never piss-drunk again, but… I’ll remind you. Keep your word.” You leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“That you will,” he said impishly, grabbing you from around the waist and pulling you next to him in the sheets, his arms encircling your body.

“Hey!” you giggled, struggling against his bear-like grasp. “Can I at least get my boots off?”

He snickered into your hair and held you close.

“Nope.”

Bonus:

A couple of hours had passed, and there was no sign of Doc (Y/N). Figuring she was still with Nix, Dick decided to check in on them.

Knocking on the door and receiving no response, he let himself in, saying while surveying the room, “Doc, you still there— Oh.”

taglist: @mads-weasley

#band of brothers #band of brothers x reader #lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon #hbo war #easy company #101st airborne #ron livingston #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers fanfic #hbo war fanfic #dick winters #richard winters #band of brothers imagine

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hollewdz · 6 months

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Quinn and Jaz: Ch2

Chapter 1

word count: ~2k

_______________________

The street lamps buzzed to life, with some flickers of indignation at being awoken for yet another tedious shift. They waited patiently, as they always did, for one very busy college student- who was particularly late tonight. Just as Quinn turned the corner to enter the sprawling parking lot of her apartment complex, the nearest street lamp gave out, dusting her in the growing shadow of the evening.

Still cursed, then, she half-joked. Quinn’s eyes burned and her nostrils were iced with the sharp pain of the cold winter air. She was lucky enough that her jacket could cover her mouth a bit, if she tugged at it the right way; but it only did so much when the whole back-half of her was totally drenched with ice water. As she finally approached the stairs to her apartment, her mind briefly wandered to the warm lump of a guy in her pocket.

She felt lucky, because she’d been able to not think about it too much for the walk home- the bitter cold helped with that. But she knew that the second she got inside she’d have to address reality; And reality, right now, was that she had an entire person, on her person. Just chilling. She shivered hard at the thought, the anxiety fully overpowering any pre-existing chills.

That feeling from earlier came clawing back, fast. The memory of seeing how her hands dwarfed Jaz, seeing him fit entirely into her glove, how that implied he wouldn’t even be hard for her to hold his entire being in one hand. She felt ill at the implications of it all, and shoved the thoughts away for Quinn-Of-Not-Right-Now to deal with. The walk home had been traumatic enough, even before all of this tiny guy shit happened, she didn’t need to process anything while her body temperature was still below average.

Finally reaching her building and trudging up the stairs to the third story, Quinn fumbled numbly for her keys and shouldered the iced-shut door open with a loud crack! Warmth kissed her cheeks and eyelids, much to her relief. Waddling through the threshold, Quinn hurriedly footed off her ice-filled boots. Not even caring about getting a noise complaint, she slammed the door shut and let both bookbags fall heavily to the floor where she stood.

Numb fingers tried desperately to claw the zipper of her coat open, but failed to get a proper hold on the slick metal tab, wet with snow. She briefly gave up on the tab, opting to undo her old leather belt and tug off her oversized, worn jeans, down to her long underwear. Fingering off her sopping socks and leaving the shedded articles at the entryway, Quinn shuffled the couple of feet to her kitchen and started her electric kettle. Running the tap hot at her sink, she held her hands in the water for some time until it was painful from the heat, reluctantly withdrawing from the temporary comfort.

With now-dried hands, she shakily pinched at the zipper near her chapped lips. A long, fluttering breath entered and slowly exited her lungs- she had to mentally prepare. Maybe the cold actually had gotten to her, and she was truly losing it from exhaustion. In a way, she hoped that was the case, because then she could just sleep it off and go back to normal.

Oh please, respect yourself, Quinn, she internally chided, The ID, the bag, you literally have that shit defrosting 3 feet away from you. Be a big girl and get this over with.

Quinn laughed in spite of herself at that.

With a sturdy, deep breath, she unzipped the coat and hastily tugged out the glove into the air in front of her face. A muffled Holy- Watch it!! from the contents told her that her passenger was not only real, but also had survived the oh-so-perilous journey. Slightly guilty at the jostling, but mostly cold and annoyed, she laid the glove down on the counter as gently as she could manage.

The kettle gave a shy click to show it had done its job, and Quinn happily accepted a distraction for her hands. She readied two mugs; A pretty yellow flowered mug equipped with her favorite sleepy-time tea, and then the second mug- a wide, plain, chipped old thing that she set next to the glove, full of nothing but the hot water.

“Oh, and these might be helpful…” She thought aloud, getting two fluffy dish towels from one of the drawers below. Quinn dropped them quickly next to the glove and mugs.

“So, uh,” She started speaking to the air above the set up, not exactly sure how to interact with some guy she just taxi’d into her home, “I’m gonna go take a shower- and uh, warm up- whatever. I’m leaving for 15 minutes. You have 15 minutes to get yourself into a better state, and also to not be naked.” Wait, is that possible? her face twisted, and she started making hand gestures to no one in particular. “Just make sure you’re not… exposed… when I come back to talk, in fifteen. Eugh. Whatever, bye.”

Throwing her hands up and taking a deep, shaky breath, she spun around and eagerly shed the rest of her clothes on the way to her shower. If hypothermia doesn’t get me, cringe certainly fucking will. My god.

—--

Jaz’s head had never hurt so bad in his entire life- which was actually quite impressive, considering how many hangovers he’d dealt with. Jaz ranked this headache particularly high on his list of awful headaches not just because of the splitting pain between his ears. This headache had come with one tiny side effect, and it was bothering him to no end.

The constant friction of the too-thick fabric rubbing his bare body was getting to be overwhelming, and going from truly freezing temperatures to a sweltering, inescapable heat was nauseating. I might actually need to buy this bitch new gloves, that’s hilarious. Whatever, she needs a new set anyway, this brand sucks. Commenting on Quinn’s gloves was all Jaz could do to distract himself.He might have been able to lie to himself and say this was all some twisted nightmare if not for how sickeningly real it all was.

The night prior was a blur. All he knew is that he had a few shots, slept with a few girls and had a good time, like any other night. Like normal. He woke up in one of the girls’ beds around dinnertime and was kicked out before he could even ask what they were cooking.

They were embarrassed they couldn’t cook for shit. Yeah. I would have just ordered us all whatever if they didn’t go all psycho, kicking me out. Jaz absent-mindedly ran his hands slowly up and down his arms, and shut his eyes. He focused on his breathing, and tried not to feel the heat emanating from the wall beside him. Those bitches just didn’t know I would have covered everything- gotten maids for the cleanup, had my secretary manage any absences. Damn, I should have started the night with that- ‘Everything’s on me tonight!’ Then I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.

Between jabs at the group of girls he had partied with, the thoughts of how unendingly vast the world felt from his nest of clothes silently fogged into his head. Flashes of seeing his fingers poke through the stitches of his own scarf, at just the amount of time it took to get a full view of Quinn. Bubbling visuals of the hole in the toe of her boot, only a couple yards from him at the time- big enough for him to walk into, with clearance. The way her shins trailed into her knees, peaking at the height of small buildings. He thought of her face; blurry and dulled, like a billboard you’re just too far away from to make out the smallest lettering.

He very nearly retched at the thought of it all. He didn’t even realize his fingernails were leaving raw, throbbing circles now, swirling across his biceps. A sharp, thin whine loosed itself from somewhere outside, and all of a sudden Jaz didn’t have time to worry about retching, he may just start blowing chunks right then and there.

The only way he could describe the feeling was like that of the world’s least fun rollercoaster- something close to the Tower of Terror, but in reverse. His insides lagged behind whatever unnatural force was yanking him into the air.

“Holy- WATCH IT!!” He spat, hoping desperately he could be heard through the polyester and fleece. A pause told him he was heard, and he gladly accepted the much slower descent to a floor.

Damn, who the hell let this roid-rager out around normal people? Doesn’t she know that I’m literally-

Jaz suddenly became quite aware of how deeply his nails could go into his arms. He flinched and loosed his grip on himself, seeing pinpricks of blood on a few of the impressions his fingernails had left behind. Outside the tent of a glove, Quinn was somewhere far off giving a long spiel about showering or something.

Showering… ‘something something naked’... Damn, is now really the time for this? Jaz was exhausted, he felt he had enough of women for the next few days. Preparing his usual script, he emerged to politely shoot her down and give her a proper rejection. Quinn, however, had scurried away. Out of sight, to some distant closet all the way on the other side of the kitchen.

Jaz felt strangely about such a massive woman truly scurrying, the way Quinn just had. Maybe she’s not as godzilla as previously thought. But looking around, he had a lot more than that to feel unsettled by than just the girl who uber’d him.

Everything. All of it was huge.

This apartment was a stadium to Jaz- no, even bigger. A colosseum, made of plywood and layers and layers of landlord-special paint. There was so much to take in- the mural-sized art pieces on the miles-away walls, the countertop longer than a nascar track, the floor, all the way down there. That nauseous feeling came clawing back, pinching Jaz’s throat and behind his nose and cramping his stomach.

He had to look away.

Turning eagerly to look at what was right in front of him, he found a steaming ceramic tub was waiting patiently with two thick towels, the size of tennis courts, flung to either side.

The realization of Quinn’s actual intention now finally dawned on him, “Oh, shower.”

Eager to get out of the stuffy tent-glove, Jaz kicked his way free of the damp, beaded, fleece lining. A cold chill hit him, and he was forced to remember why he was in that glove to begin with.

Jaz had never been shy about his birthday suit- he worked very hard for his toned and fit physique, and was known to half the campus to jump at any chance to put it on display.

In that moment, though- standing on a countertop, the nearest “floor” being a hundred foot plummet away, and the closest exit truly impossible for him to access or use…

Jaz felt naked. He felt utterly exposed.

It was a new, supremely unpleasant feeling. His hands went back to his biceps, and he quickly recoiled at the sting. His eyes flitted to the scratches and his gaze lingered. Ever so slightly, his shoulders rose and tensed, an almost unnoticeable flicker of weakness breathed through his knees.

Fuck it, I can clean up if I’m staying the night. Jaz clambered into the mug, steeling himself. He silently begged the near scalding water to burn out the unpleasantness- trying to find a distraction in this new sting.

A nebulous sort of respite tentatively descended upon him.

“Besides, I haven’t even really introduced myself.”

#Quinn and Jaz #My writing #g/t #giant/tiny #giant tiny #macro/micro #giant #g/t community #gt #giantess #minors dni

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honeycloudz · 9 months

Text

Perfect Storm | Chapter Three: Trapped with Truth and Dare

Content Warnings: MDNI, Mentions of blood on Sanzu (not his), Mentions of a gun, Sanzu teasing but hes also an ass, being stuck in an elevator, Smidge of angst if you squint, Sanzu is a menace while playing truth or dare, Ran teases too, Emotionally Constipated Jealous Sanzu, Fem!Reader has very brief wet dream (I promise Ill do actual smut soon), Mating press

Back to- Perfect Storm Chapters Next- Chapter Four: WIP

Today had been an unusually boring day without the normal banter of your coworkers as well as the strange quietness of not having Sanzu around. The Haitani’s and him had gone on a mission with Takeomi, leaving you with the usually quiet Mikey who shooed you away to your office to get paperwork done, just as Mochi and Kokonoi were doing in their own respective spaces. Bored, you sigh, walking to your office ready but dejected for the long day of paperwork ahead of you. You stare at the clock ticking hung above your door, counting down the seconds before you can go home after long exhausting hours of signing documents and crime. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the clock strikes midnight as you let out a silent cheer and pack your belongings into your purse to then make your way to the rickety old elevator. You press the button that lights up beneath your finger and hum contently, excited for your plan to sit back on your comfortable couch and catch up on your favorite show. When the elevator opens, you step into it, continuously pressing the button to the first floor (as if it were to make the doors close faster) and just as they were about to shut- a hand suddenly makes its way between them- startling you. Your hands quickly make their way to your purse, where your gun is resting, on instinct.

You curse under your breath in anger when Sanzu steps foot in the elevator, dress shirt covered in blood which you knew wasn't his own. Noticing your shift in attitude, he smiles smugly, and to your dismay speaks. “What? Didn’t miss me today princess?” he voices sarcastically. He watches you closely, trying to get a rise out of you. “Yeah, of course, just as much as my gun misses your big ass forehead. All that room up there and still not enough to make one coherent, well adjusted thought.”, you hissed back just as sarcastically, ready for the interaction to end as the elevator slowly descended. “My forehead isn't big” he grunted, turning away from you, picking and choosing what hears as per usual. “Is too” you spat back at him. As he was about to retort back, the elevator shook aggressively and grinded to a halt. “W-what is happening” you questioned out loud in fear to no one in particular. When suddenly the red emergency lights glowed and the audio system boomed with Rindou’s voice, answering you. “Hey uh, i know we would all love to end this night peacefully but unfortunately for you both, you'll be stuck in here for the next hour”- panic set in as you realized you'd be stuck with Sanzu alone - “please don't kill each other in there, we are all working to fix it (you hear slight snickering in the background, probably Ran laughing at your current predicament) dont worry itll be okay in no time”. Rindou finishes, sounding uncertain, not helping your current crisis. “Fuck” you curse out loud, hope dimming quickly. He turns to you, annoyance on his face. “Really?”. He exhales out of frustration, “Well, we are here together whether you like it or not, what do you wanna do to pass the time while they work to free me from hell?” You look at him, anger and shock written all over your face, “Free you from hell!? Go fuck yourself, and go to that corner, dont even breath near me asshole.” You reply and take a seat in the corner, opposite to his. He (surprisingly) listens and takes a seat away from you, “Pff, whatever, take that stick out your ass, I'd like to make it known I don't wanna be here either.” he huffs out. Choosing to ignore his comment, only a few minutes pass in silence, and to your dismay he starts repeatedly tapping the wall with his fingers in a rhythm, the sound getting on your already worked up nerves. “Oh my gosh, ok we’ll pass the time with whatever but you have to stop with that shit”, you glare at him. He laughs back in response, stopping his finger drumming. “Hmm..” Sanzu pauses to think before turning to you and declaring, “Lets play truth or dare”. You look at him, surprised by the childish remark when you notice the mischievous glint in his eyes. After a few seconds of thinking it over you respond, “Sure, but I start”. He nods, giving you the go-ahead. “Truth or dare?” you question, his answer being ‘truth’. With another short pause of thinking you ask him, “If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?” and for a second you swear you see a look of hurt on him, before its masked with the smug smile he returns quickly, and you feel guilt for some reason. He looks away from you for a moment before whispering “my scars” quietly, but loud enough for you to hear. You frown and look away, thinking when he breaks you out of your thoughts, questioning “Truth or dare?” to change the subject. “Uh.. dare” you boldly decide, quickly regretting it when he dares you to lick the floor. “Yeah I'm not doing that.” you say, unimpressed. “Fine, then it has to be truth!” he retorts. “Well there isnt many dares we can do in here anyway, so lets just keep asking truths”. You respond. And for the first time probably ever, you both agree on something.

“You ever fuck anyone that works here?” Doing a double take and staring at him in shock he only looks back, completely serious. Exhaling you answer, “Good God, and no.” You look over at him and he almost seems relieved? Knowing it's your turn, you ask him something almost equally as strange, “Have you ever practiced kissing in a mirror?” He looks at you weird, then laughs and you feel a small smile making its way to your face. “What? Thats so weird, why do you ask?” he runs his hands through his tuft of pink hair giggling at you. “I don't know, its a very you thing to do, and you didn't answer!” you defend yourself playfully. A few seconds of silence and him looking away is all the answer you need. He continues to look away before he hears you trying not to let a sound out, when he faces you he notices the wide smile on your face, that you tried to hide with a hand clasped tightly around your mouth, clearly you couldn't control it when he hears your laughter. And although its at his expense, he would usually respond with something mean, yet, for a moment Sanzu forgets he hates you. “Yeah whatever, laugh all you want, I was a teenager and now I can get the real thing and more, whenever I please.” He defends himself while you swipe the unshed tears from your eyes, calming down.

Trying to change the subject, he questions, “If you had to pick someone from our team to fuck, who would it be?” Sanzu continues to ask out of pocket questions to try and embarrass you. Your face heats and your stomach drops and for a moment you think of him, on top of you and you decide to throw the thought of your head permanently. You look away, trying to think and all the comes up are filthy thoughts of him. “Ch-change the question.” You cough out. He leans in, “Nah I think I wanna hear your answer, princess”. He directs his complete attention on you, stare unwavering. A few seconds pass before you whisper “Ran”. For a reason unknown to him, Sanzu feels angry. Not at you for a change, but at Ran as if it were his fault. He masks his irritation by asking “Why him, of all people?” Quickly you respond “He was the first that came to mind” you lied, when suddenly the loud audio system answers, this time by Ran himself.

“Really? I'm honored sweetheart.” He giggles out to your complete shock and horror. “YOU CAN HEAR US?!” you question.

“Yeah, I'm surprised Sanzu didn't tell you.” You turn back at him with betrayal in your eyes and he only shrugs. God what an asshole, and to think you were starting to enjoy yourself even a little bit around him.

“I would've never answered that if I had known they can hear us! I don't wanna play anymore” you huff and cross your arms. “Aww the fun was just starting” Ran teases you, earning a quick shut up.

Sanzu decides to call it quits too, your answer the only thing replaying in his mind. You both stay silent for the duration of the period. Thankfully, before you fall asleep, a tired sounding Kokonoi announces that the elevator will work in the next minute. You stand, stretching and yawning, ready to get home when you notice the grumpy look on Sanzu’s face.

He stands too, and when the elevator dings and the doors open, he shoves past you walking- almost stomping away. You recollect yourself from the powerful push and make your way to your car. The only thoughts on your mind being him and his stupid face, his stupid smile, his stupid laugh too. You replay the soft look on his face in your brief moments of getting along, the thought being soured when you remember how he pushed you.

Exhausted, you finally get home, kicking off your heels somewhere random, not even bothering to undress you hop in bed quick to crash out.

Even in dream land he wouldn't leave you, your sleeping mind conjuring up the vulgar images of Sanzu groaning from on top of you, grabbing the under part of your legs that were wrapped around his torso, to put your knees to your shoulders, effectively trapping you in a once again, this time in a mating press, before he leans in and whispers “Cum for me, pretty girl”, while speeding up and deepening his thrusts, the filthiest grunts and praises leaving his pretty lips. Moans and whimpers leaving your own. “Hngh- Hah, I love those sounds, make more princess.”

A/N: omg? me updating so soon? once in a LIFE TIME, im sorry i think this chapter kinda sucks, forgive me </3, anyway some of you were wondering how my nipple piercing went, and it went fantastic! I really love them and im glad it went well lmao, anyway PLEASEEE send me requests, it can be smut or anything!! holy shit i forgot about the taglist too im just remembering, ill bring it back for next chapter <33 Love you guys, thank you for the support and reading!

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