#he laughed at me and then started sobbing

[daceydeath]

After Party

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Word Count: 0.7K Genre: Smut 🔞 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities, Swearing, Alcohol

A/N: This is literally come from seeing Hyunjin be too damn fine at the Versace show I have no excuse other than it's his own fault.

You had seen him at the show, his beauty accentuated by the sultry unbuttoned silk shirt and thin black choker but avoided him, sitting far from him you had managed to stay mostly out of his sight as he mingled and participated in interviews after the show. Now changed into a less structured dress you hoped that you would have the same luck at the party you were now stepping into. The drinks flowing and the music loud you were able to see glimpses of him as he danced his red leather trench flashing brightly as he moved. But as you drank and laughed your caution dropped you found yourself exactly where he wanted you to be. Your back pressed against a door you dress hitched up around your waist as his hands wandered across your burning skin.

“Hyunjin, we need to stop” you breathed, the warning lacking any conviction as you continued to kiss his lips between words. “You know we can’t”.

“Is that really what you want darling?” he smirked, kissing you deeply as swallowing the small gasp you let escape your throat. His fingers moved your underwear aside to let his fingers trace your damp folds. “You still can’t just admit you are mine and not his”.

His coat had been dropped to the floor somewhere behind him he had let go of it the moment he had cornered you in the empty room, now with his black trousers undone enough to get them halfway down his thighs he roughly sheathed himself inside you you eyes opening wide as you silently cried out his hips not stopping to give you even a second to adjust before he began thrusting into you with harsh desperation.

"Hyunie" you whined brokenly, your breath being punched out of you with each movement of his cock. "Please, I can’t…". 

"Tell me to stop then" He strained his voice thin "Tell me you don't want my cock so deep inside you, you will never forget how it feels". You clenched and moaned, your head falling back against the door, your brain starting to fog with pleasure too much to even comprehend how to speak.

"Ah... Ngh... Hyunjin" you breathed unable to make a sentence of even two words while his lips and tongue work on your neck nipping and sucking lightly at your flesh. “Please, more”.

"That's what I thought, you will always be mine darling" he uttered sensually moving his lips to mesh with yours, his tongue licking into your mouth which you were so willing to allow. Feeling the tip of his cock brushing against your cervix was sending red hot tendrils of pleasure through your body forcing you to pull him in closer with your leg that had remained tightly wrapped around his hip when he had placed it earlier.

"Fuck I need you so bad" Hyunjin groaned against your lips "Need to fill you, breed you, own you". His words were making you spiral the already insane level of pleasure from his perfect length pounding into you was sending you hurtling toward your high. Your thighs twitched and your eyes blurred with unshed tears until finally you broke, cuming so hard around him that his hips stuttered as your walls fluttered and gripped him so tightly you thought you might pass out.

"Hyunnie... Fuck Hyunnie" you sobbed feeling him resuming his previous pace each time he pressed into you the dull ache that followed him making you squirm in his grip.

"Relax darling I got you" he soothed his heavy panting against you neck slowing the speed of his hips and letting you breathe your vision is hazy now white dots appearing around the edges of the room but Hyunjin just kisses you again his lips soft and comforting contrasting in the best way to how he's pounding into your sopping cunt. "Only mine darling, only ever mine".

Each word leaving you shivering and gasping as you cum again only this time after a few more thrust Hyunjin follows you filling you with his hot seed as he presses himself as deep as he can inside your quaking walls.

"Hyunnie I..." You whisper, unable to trust your voice to come out properly.

"I know darling, I love you too. I always will" he smiles against your lips before kissing them sweetly.

a/n: Thank you for reading my loves you support, likes, reblogs and comments are my greatest encouragements and I appreciate you endlessly for them.

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks

@leeknowinggg @tanzen-ist-gold @uno7 @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser

[foodiegoogie]

request for james potter x sunshine gf? like yapper x yapper <3

note: thank u for requesting my sanny angel <3 i was so excited to write this when i got ur req hehe :P thanks 4 being so patient as well !! hope u like this :P

paint me a picture

james potter x fem!reader ✮ 2.2k cw/tags: established relationship, that ‘couple paints each other’ trend on tiktok, MOO DENG CAMEO, tooth-rutting fluff mayhaps? and a lil crack :>

If you were ever put in a situation where you’re stuck in a room full of complete strangers, chances are that you’d strike up a conversation with one, two, or a handful of people no matter how off-putting they might seem as a stranger. You had a knack for talking people’s ears off, your mouth running faster than your brain ever did—spewing word after word before you could even finish your train of thought. 

Frankly speaking, you were well-aware that your talkativeness came across as annoying to most people. It was a hard pill for you to swallow, because you really, really liked to talk to people. You thrived in sharing your interests and whatever it was that came to your mind with other people. But the pressure was immense, and society—cruel, so you had to make do and shut your mouth if you could handle it. 

When you met James, however, it was like one of those cliché moments in movies—the ones about destiny and fate and soulmates. Because who knew that you’d find your match in being a chatterbox in someone as charming, and lovely as him? 

James Potter, in all his bumbling, comical, and boyish glory, did not stray away from you from the very first sign that gave away your talkative nature. 

And it appeared that he wasn’t planning on ever doing so in the near future. 

“Oh, but have you seen the one of her biting that zookeeper’s leg? She’s so adorable– I can’t!” You gushed as you filled in the gaps of James’ uncolored ears—the James in your portrait, not your actual James—with brush strokes of warm, chocolate brown paint.

The real-life James who sat across from you chuckled softly at your enthusiasm. “I know, right? She’s a little troublemaker, that one. I’d steal her away if I could.”

“Me too, me too,” Your vehement agreement amuses your boyfriend. “Gosh, what I wouldn’t give to have a hippo as a pet!”

James’ nose wrinkles, as if in distaste, at your statement. “Wouldn’t that be hard though? They’re always covered in mucus, and they’re always underwater. Hippos are a little high-maintenance if you really think about it.” 

“Respectfully, James, I never asked for your opinion.” 

James’ mouth hangs open in shock, his hand frozen as it holds a paintbrush in front of his own canvas of his portrait of you. 

“I can’t believe you’d say that to me,” He fakes a sob, shaking his head in disbelief. “I thought we had something special, love.” 

You sigh, going along with his act. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, Jamie. You know how I feel about pets.”

“So that’s just it, then? You’re leaving me for a hippopotamus?” James cracks his voice at the end of his lamenting, hand flying up to cover his mouth, suppressing his “sobs.”

It was getting admittedly hard for you to keep up the act, though. But you persevere.

“It’s nothing personal, James. I swear,” Your voice wavers at the end, the start of an uprising laughter in your throat.

“Do you, actually?” 

You count what seems to be like five seconds of you and your boyfriend just staring at each other. It was almost as if James was challenging you to break. Ironically, you were starting to think that you were going to. 

But then he beats you there as you watch his face split into a wide grin, his canines doing nothing to quell his boyish handsomeness. Your boy always looked good, but he looked especially nicer when he was happy, smiling. 

Laughing, too, most of all. James had the kind of laughter that sounded like a wind chime when a breeze passed by, making you feel light and floaty as if on a cloud. He also had the kind of laughter that you just couldn’t help but join in, and share the moment with him.

“Absolutely nothing,” was what he would say whenever you asked him what you wanted to do together. 

But if you asked him what you’d want to talk about? James would say, “Absolutely everything.”

“Now I can’t remember what I was supposed to do!” You exclaimed, your laughter dying down to soft, involuntary chuckles as the lighthearted air of James’ relentless quips lingers between you both. “If my portrait turns out wonky, I’m blaming you.”

James’ grin could only grow with pride. He always loved to make you laugh. “Hey, that’s not fair. I only asked if–”

“No, don’t start again!” You rushed to stop him, pursing your lips to contain yourself.

“I haven’t even said anything,” He beamed at you, unashamed of how cheeky he was being. 

“You were gonna!” 

Your boyfriend shakes his head resolutely, pushing his glasses up his nose with a careful finger. “No, I wasn’t!”

“Top ten things a liar would say.”

James scoffs, affronted. “Top ten things an unfair person would say.”

You tut, shaking your head disapprovingly. “You need to come up with your own comebacks, you know.”

“Well, hey– it’s not my fault I decided to date the loveliest, most creative, most swell girl ever in the entire world,” Your boyfriend reasons, his million-dollar smile ever present on his lips.

You feel your face grow warm by his words. Even after a year (and counting) of being with James romantically, you could never quite get used to his praising you. But that had been the deal—if you couldn’t get used to it, then he’d have to do it more often so that you would eventually get used to it.

So, you clear your throat, returning your attention back to the task at hand: painting a portrait of your boyfriend. James can see right through your feigned indifference, but mirrors your actions with his own painting. 

“‘Swell?’” You place the finishing touches of your painting of James on your canvas. There’s colours of red, brown, orange, yellow, and all its shades from the most subtle to the most vibrant. You’re not really a painter, you’re more of an appreciator of paintings. But you hoped that the message would get through to your boyfriend—to you, he was love and warmth personified. 

He shrugs in response, eyes glimmering with mirth as he works on his own portrait of you. You couldn’t help but wonder what he had drawn and painted of you. The anticipation was high. “Yeah, you’re swell.” 

“Where’d you get that from?” 

“Er,” James scratches behind his ear with his free hand. “Sirius.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I knew it.” 

Your boyfriend spares you a glance over his canvas, and you meet eyes with your smiles mirroring each other. James hears you snicker as you turn back to your painting, and the dimples in his cheeks deepen.

“Alright, I think… I’m done,” You lean back against your chair, observing your portrait of James with criticising eyes—though not necessarily criticising the muse of your painting, but rather the painting you’d done yourself. 

Real-life James from across you makes a humming sound. “I think… I am, too.” 

“So, who’s going first?” The pair of you chorus, then laugh.

“Ladies first?” Your boyfriend asked.

You consider it for a moment, eyes never leaving your painting as you continue to observe it. You were afraid of mucking it up further than how messy it looked now to you, so you refrain from making any more adjustments. 

“Uh… no. I think it’s best if you go first,” A rueful smile graces your lips. 

James sighs, and you just know he’s downplaying his own efforts before the painting is even shown to you. “Alright, then. Here we–”

“—Also because I think we should save the best for last,” You rushed to say, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him.

Your boyfriend’s eyes go comically wide, and as you do your evil cackling, he scoffs indignantly. “I see how it is. Well, feast your eyes upon my greatest creation of all time–!”

James grabs his canvas by the sides with careful hands, then flips it around so the front of his painting is finally facing you. 

Behind the canvas, the artist—your boy—has his gaze fixed on your face, waiting for any sign of a reaction. In truth, he’d be devastated if you didn’t crack a smile or gasp! “This is amazing, James! I love you with my whole heart!” 

But he’s also aware that he wasn’t Van Gogh or Picasso, so he should be cutting himself some slack. But damn it all if he doesn’t get your stamp of approval on his painting of you—the most beautiful work of art he’s ever seen. 

Said “beautiful work of art he’s ever seen” now sits across from him, rendered speechless—which was out of the ordinary, so you had James worried. You did expect something “humble” to come out of his work, something worth placing in the Louvre museum that would rival the Mona Lisa, and something you’d both argue over like, “James, this is amazing!” and he’d respond, “Nah, I could do better.” 

Well, your expectations were met, but they had exceeded you by a lot. A lot, a lot. 

The background of the portrait is painted in a pastel, sky blue colour, adorned with symmetrically shaped clouds in white. And there’s that sun in the corner of the canvas, a smiley face drawn on it, too—a staple in a child’s painting. 

But it didn’t stop there; alongside the clouds were some painted flowers. There were daisies, your favourite. Tulips, also your favourite. There were little bees and butterflies and hearts all around, there was so much going on in the background of the painting that you didn’t know which to pay attention to.

Though you did know, realistically, which to pay attention to. It wasn’t in the birds and the bees painted haphazardly across the background—in the middle of the painting was a rather messier variant of you. You in your candid, cozy glory, donning your jumper. The curve of your jaw, the size of your eyes. James had managed to capture you in your likeness. You could see yourself in the painting. 

Most of all, however, you’re speechless of the fact he’d managed to capture you beautifully. Have you always looked like this to him? Is this what he sees every time he looks at you? Is this what he sees now as he looks at you?

“Erm, do you–“ James clears his throat, his fingers drumming against the sides of his canvas as he held it up in front of you. He was anxious because you still hadn’t shown any reaction whatsoever in the span of half a minute. “is it that bad?” 

A lighthearted jest. Probably to dissuade the brewing anxiety in his mind from your lack of a reaction. His leg was already starting to bounce restlessly from under the table. He’s thankful that you’re unable to see that, at least. 

“‘Bad?’” 

“Yes, ‘bad.’” A beat passes. “Is it?” 

You shake your head at once, having gathered your bearings after all. A smile slowly starts to make its way onto your face. “It’s not bad. Not at all, James, this is–“ 

James doesn’t know what to do now, if he’s being honest. He wishes you could just come out and say it in his face that he was a trash painter, and that his portrait belonged in the dumps. He’d rather that than wait in agony—

“It’s so nice,” You finally manage to say, your voice dripping with fondness for him. His heart skips a beat at the sight of your smile—all sweet and pretty and lovely, so lovely. So loving. 

“Really?” James gains a smidge of his confidence back with your reactions. “You like it?” 

“Like it? I love it!” You abandon your chair, rounding the table to tackle him into a hug, planting a loud smack of a kiss on his cheek. “You made me look so pretty! Best boyfriend ever!” 

Said boyfriend feels like he could melt in your arms right now, but he returns your affections by tightening his own arms around your waist, pulling you down so that you sit on his lap. 

“‘Best boyfriend ever?’ Now that’s a title I can get behind,” He chuckles, grinning widely up at you as you did the same at him. Two birds of a feather, their love mirrored in one another’s eyes, and hearts. 

Long story short, when you show your portrait to James, he makes sure to let you know that he loves it. Absolutely, indubitably adores it. He declares that he’ll frame it and hang it up in his room. He’ll contact local historians to let them know that, “Hey, I think we’ve got another revolutionary artist in our time and it’s my girl.” 

(He also makes a few comments of how you “didn’t quite get his nose right” and how “his hair looked exaggerated in your painting” and that that was “hair-racist.” What?)

At the very end of your date night, the pair of you decide to paint another picture—a third to add to your collection—but this time around, it included the two of you, with a grubby look of a house beside you both, three other little people, some dogs here, some cats there, and then some. 

ty for reading \(￣︶￣*\)) likes, replies, n reblogs r always appreciated !! <3

[heian-era-housewife]

Synopsis | In which the JJK men receive flowers.

Content | gojo x reader, geto x reader, nanami x reader, toji x reader, reader is implied (but not necessarily) fem, toji's is ever so slightly suggestive, fluff ♡

Word Count | ~1.4k

A/N: The banner quote is not a proven statistic, but a marketing strategy once employed by Interflora based on a customer study. It was later developed into a social media/influencer campaign which included renaming their flowers with more "masculine" sounding names to increase Father's Day flower sales and scare partners everywhere into purchasing unnecessarily gendered plants. The more you know.

Gojo

Blue ain't your color

What started as a simple trip to the supermarket has turned into two greenhouses, three floral shops, five phone calls (one of which kept you on hold for twenty minutes!) and now you're on your third day of searching for the perfect flowers with which to surprise your boyfriend.

You're not a botanist. How were you to know that naturally occurring blue flowers were the rarest sort? All you wanted was a little arrangment to match the hue of Gojo's crystal eyes, now here you were getting laughed at from your latest failed internet lead for not knowing hydrangeas have a season...and this is not it. Not wanting to go home empty-handed, you settle for a box of sweets with a bright blue ribbon and make your way back for his return from his latest mission.

Later that day while checking the time, you pause to admire the lock screen on your phone. It's a picture of Satoru, goofy smile plastered across his face, arms spread wide with flat palms facing outward, knees high as he runs with full abandon through a field of...

"Daisies! For me??" His voice nearly cracks as he takes the wild bundle in his hands, a vibrant blue ribbon holding them neatly together.

"Mhm! And there's some chocolate too!" You add, gesturing to a now plain white box on the kitchen table.

"You didn't have to do that!" He practically squeals, unable to hide his childlike excitement.

"I wanted to. Besides," you smile coyly at the daisies you picked mere moments ago. "They reminded me of you!"

Geto

World's greatest mom

It was the morning of Mother's Day. You, yourself, were very much not a mother. And yet, here you stood, one little girl perched on each hip as you held them close in a desperate attempt to quiet their teary sobs outside your local flower shop.

"I'm sorry girls," you cooed, bouncing them as you spoke. "It looks like everyone's sold out."

Earlier that morning you were awoken by two eager faces as Nanako and Mimiko had snuck into Geto's bedroom, where you had spent the night, to tell you their grand idea.

"Today's Mother's Day," Mimiko whispered shyly to you as she tugged gently on the sheets.

"We want to get Geto carnations!" Nanako continued boldly, spokesperson of the pair. "Because he's the best mom ever!"

If sweetness could kill, you'd be a goner. Your heart was threatening to burst as it was. How could you possibly say no?

Together, the three of you snuck out of the house and headed to find some Mother's Day carnations for "Mr. Mom" himself. But, as many a woeful partner has learned, the morning of Mother's Day is the worst time to find flowers. So, here you stood, empty-handed, a sad little girl on each hip.

What would Suguru do? You thought to yourself. He never missed an opportunity to make the girls happy, always finding creative ways to put smiles on their faces, truly earning the title, "Best Mom Ever". Strengthening your resolve, it was your turn to tell the girls your grand idea.

~~~

Suguru woke to the sound of giggles and crinkling paper. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he blinked several times before registering the sight in front of him.

"Happy Mother's Day!" the three of you said in unison, holding out a bouquet of homemade flowers to the now very confused sorcerer.

"What's all this?" He said looking at the small puffs of pink tissue paper and their green pipe-cleaner stems.

"We wanted to get you flowers...but they were all sold out," Mimiko muttered apologetically.

"So we made some instead!" Finished a bright-eyed Nanako.

"I love them!" He beamed, pretending to sniff the crinkled paper blossoms. "But...why?"

"Tell him, girls!" You said, stifling a laugh.

"Because you're the Best Mom Ever!"

Nanami

Forget-me-not

Dinner was ready, the table was set, and your husband , Kento, would be home any time now. The final piece to your romantic evening surprise was the floral arrangement you ordered specifically with him in mind. Heaving the large display to the table's center, you step back to admire your work. The flowers were a nice touch, inspired by a chilling post you'd seen on the internet- one you couldn't get out of your head.

As Kento stepped through the door, his eyes settled on the large arrangement of pure white lilies threatening to swallow up your little dining table for two.

"What's all this?"

"I wanted to surprise you!"

"Well it worked," he said with a smile, pulling you in for a hug. "One question, though. Why all the flowers?"

"I saw something online that said most men don't get flowers until their funeral!" You exclaim.

"Hmm..." He nods as he inspects the elegant bundle. "And were you anticipating mine? My funeral, that is?"

"Why would you say such a thing?" You ask, puzzled by his uncharacteristically callous joke.

"'With deepest sympathy,'" he reads aloud, pulling a small folded card from the center of the bouquet.

"WHAT?!" You shriek, yanking the card from his hand. You hadn't even seen it nestled behind the large white blossoms. "But why would-?!"

"You know white lilies are typically a funerary flower, right?" He states in his kind, but matter-of-fact tone.

"But I was sure I-" whipping out your phone you look back on your order realizing all too late that the arrangement you'd chosen from their "best selling" tab had the words "in memorium" just below the listing price. A small groan escapes your throat and then-

"HAH!" Kento's laughter startles you as he doubles over in a rare fit of humor.

"Well I'm glad YOU find this funny," you pout accusingly, feeling your romantic night had fallen to ruin.

"I'm just glad I get to enjoy them WITH you. But, I suppose if things had gone sideways at work today, you would've been prepared either way!"

"NOT funny, Kento!" You snap, one corner of your mouth twitching in contradiction.

"I know, I know," he says, pulling you in for another hug. "I love them. And I certainly won't forget them!" He comforts you.

"Well," you give in with a small chuckle. "They are in memorium."

Toji

Just a little prickly

"Toji," you humphed. "How come you've never given me flowers?"

"You've never given me flowers."

"That's different!"

"How?" He challenged. "Thought you were all about 'equality' or some shit?"

"It's not like you'd even appreciate them!" You objected. "Besides, you couldn't even keep a cactus alive."

"Wanna bet?"

"As a matter of fact I do!"

~~~

A few days later, after stopping by the plant section of a hardware store on your way home, you returned with scrubbiest most pathetic-looking little ball of spikes you could find.

"Oh Tojiiii~" You called out.

"The hell is that?" He said eyeing the ugly little plant.

"It's your new cactus!" You gushed, eyes twinkling with playful malice.

"You really are something else," he muttered, rolling his eyes as he accepted your spiteful gift.

~~~

Weeks passed. Months even. You'd forgotten all about the cactus, having long presumed it dead when one day Toji interrupted your would-be peaceful breakfast with a laugh bordering the maniacle.

"HAH!" He jeered pointing a finger directly in your face. "You wanted flowers?? Get a load of these!" 

From behind his back he plunked a ceramic pot onto the kitchen table, one you'd never seen. In it was the most beautiful little barrel cactus, golden spikes reflecting the morning light. Atop its crest was a perfect halo of brilliant pink flowers. It was nothing short of lovely and you wondered where he got it.

"Wh-where did this come from?" You asked, taken aback.

"What do you mean where??" He grumped. "It's that shitty cactus you gave me. What, don't recognize it?" He teased.

"No it's not. This thing is huge. And it's in an entirely different pot."

"Uh. Yeah. It grew, genius. I had to change its pot like three times."

You stared in utter disbelief. You had no idea he had kept it- no idea he even cared. It was honestly kind of...hot.

"Looks like you just lost a bet. Time to pay up, sweetheart." He boasted.

"Too bad we never decided on a wager." 

"Don't worry," he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the bedroom. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #51 - Sad Boy]

"When Jungkook comes home sad from work and you cheer him up."

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life

Warnings: mention of losing one's partner to death, Koo is a sad boi after work, but she cheers him up, he is a little shit and she is just as much of a little shit, hehe they're annoying <3, and sooooooo in loveeee!!!, casual non-sexual nudity, backhugs with non-sexual fondling of the teeds, he is just the cutest <3

Wordcount: 1.8k

a/n: i was struck by the random thought that ogc!koo would most definitely cry to his wifey if one of his customers had a tattoo wish with a sad backstory, so this snippet was born hihi he is actually the patootiestest <3 i luv him <3

You didn’t have work today and therefore made dinner. Jungkook should be home any second now and you are really excited for it. You made some of his favourite tonight because you wanted to make him happy. Not that there is a day where you don’t want to see him happy, but you felt like surprising him tonight.

Bam has been in the kitchen with you when his ears suddenly perk up. He lifts his head and sniffles, then suddenly stands up from where he was resting to run away. You know exactly what this means. Jungkook is home. 

Feeling like greeting him by the door tonight, you follow Bam. 

You find him and Jungkook in the hallway. The latter is kneeling, hugging Bam as tightly as possible. 

“Hey there, my sweetheart”, you greet him. 

Jungkook lifts his head, giving view to his teary eyes. 

“Did you cry? What happened?” you gasp, instantly jumping into worried mode. “Kookie baby, what happened?”

Jungkook stands up and closes the distance, “I had a really sad day”, he says, hugging you tightly. He lets out small sound, melting into you.

“No, I’m sorry to hear this. Did something happen that made you sad?” you ask him, holding him and rubbing the back of his head.

“Yes”,  he squeaks out, having to sob. 

“Noo Googie, I’m here. Let it all out.”

“___ you, you can’t ever die. You have to promise me to, to never die.” 

“I mean that’s a rather ambitious wish. Why are you asking me that all of a sudden?” 

Jungkook coughs out a sob, making a sad sound.

“Let’s sit down first, okay?” 

“Yes, okay”, he whimpers.

You guide him to the living room, sitting down next to him and holding his hands. The walk from the front door to the sofa gave him enough strength to finally tell you what made him so incredibly sad today. He does so with his head lowered and his sweaty hands clasping yours as if he needed your touch to survive.

“I had a customer today and, and he wanted a tattoo and it was”, his voice quivers in tears, “it was his wife’s star sign and then I started and he cried and told me that his wife died a week ago and that he wants to keep her with him always. It was so sad”, he whimpers, “he cried through the entire session and I cried with him and it made me so sad and made me think of how it would be lose you and, and you can’t die, ___ please you have to let me go first, I can’t go through losing you.”

“Oh Kookie, you sweetest person you”, you breathe, scooting closer to drape your arm over him, “this must have been such an emotional moment. I’m sorry that you had to go through this.” 

“It was so sad. I had to, to take breaks because I kept crying so much”, he drops his head on your shoulder, “my head hurts so bad and I have ringing in my ears. I’m sad, please can you promise me not to die before me?” 

“So I should deal with you losing you?”, you ask in a chuckle. 

“Yes.”

You laugh. He laughs with you, but sniffles vividly.

“You’re a doofus.”

“A really sad doofus.” 

You snicker, kissing his forehead.

“Mhm, I promise you that I won’t leave you for a long time. I don’t wanna think about this day for too long because it’ll make me sad too, but I promise you it’s still going to be a long time till it happens.”

“I promise you too. And I love you so much. You’re my soulmate and my best friend and my life partner. Everything I do, I do for you.” He lifts his head, cradling your cheeks. His eyes, although teary, are filled with love. “Life for me began when I met you. I knew from the very first moment I saw you in Seokjin’s diner that I loved you. And ever since that moment, everything I did was for you. I love you, ___, I always have.” 

“Oh god Googie, I love you too.” You cup his cheeks. “My soulmate, my best friend and my parter for life.”

Jungkook smiles, leaning into your touch.

“Also my cute, sappy doofus.”

He giggles, agreeing with a nod.

“If I didn’t tell you how I felt tonight, I would have imploded. Witnessing my customer grieve so deeply really hurt me. I felt his pain as if it was mine.”

“Of course you did. You have such an empathetic, loving soul. I’m sure that he felt deeply comforted to be understood this way. I’m sorry that it made you feel so sad though.”

“Thank you”, he mumbles and sniffles, “I feel better already. Talking about it really helped. Thank you for listening. I love you  so much.”

“I love you too and I’m always happy to listen. We’re a team, we go through everything together.” 

He nods his head, eyes softening. 

“Maybe we could die together. When we're old like in- Oh no I’m crying again - like in The Notebook. ___, I’m so sad”, he wails, throwing his head back dramatically. 

“Gosh you, come here”, you chuckle fondly, hugging him again. 

“They were so in love and went together. I can’t do this today.”

“Gosh you, it’s okay. I’m right here.” 

“I can’t do this, please just melt into me.”

“I’m trying, I really am”, you tease, ruffling his hair. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“I love you too, so much.”

“And I made Tangsuyuk tonight with lots of different sides.” 

“Wow, Tangsuyuk”, Jungkook whispers, forgetting all about crying at the mention of his favourite dish. “My favourite. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, everything for you my darling.” 

He lifts his head, letting you wipe his tears and snot.

“No, don’t. It’s yucky.”

“It is. So yucky”, you agree and scrunch your nose, “you snotty baby you.” 

A shy smile washes over his face. It morphs into a shocked gasp when seconds later you wipe his snot into his shirt.

“Did you just wipe my snot on my shirt?”

“Mhm I did”, you grin, standing up to run away from him, “what are you gonna do about it?”

Jungkook feels his heart flutter. When you are being playful like this, he forgets all about his sadness. He jumps to his feet, chasing you all the way to the kitchen.

“Come here you”, he calls after you.

You squeak and increase your steps, making him laugh and do the same.

He catches up with you, swooping you off your feet. You squeal and cackle, throwing your head back in joy as he twirls with you. 

After the twirling he has the audacity to wipe his nose into your shirt, snickering boyishly at the yelp of complaint you let out. 

He sets you down, laughing giddily when you push him away gently.

“That was so much. Why did you have to do that? Eww I can literally see the slime stick to the fabric.” 

Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back and rubbing your waist. 

“Tch, you’re rancid”, you say, swiping his hands away. You pull your shirt over your head.

“Baby wow”, he gasps, eyes instantly landing on your bared chest. “No bra?” 

“We’ve been living together for how many years and you still get surprised that I don’t wear that shit at home?” you ask him, leaving the kitchen. 

Jungkook follows you. You take the stairs down to the cellar where you have your laundry room. It is a very beautiful and homely cellar and feels more like an underground living area than an actual cellar. 

“Your boobs never lose their power. Obviously I’ll keep being surprised by them”, Jungkook says.

You scoff in amusement, wiping some disinfectant on the fabric. Jungkook is going to do laundry tomorrow either way, but you just want to get rid of the worst. 

Suddenly you have two hands on your breasts and two arms around you, a naked chest against your naked back and lips on your shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” you ask him in a chuckle, leaning into his embrace. 

“Just making sure that you’re real”, Jungkook whispers, guiding his kisses up to your neck and ear. 

“And you had to take your shirt off for that?” 

“It was dirty too”, Jungkook says and takes your earlobe between his teeth to tug on it gently, giving your breasts a playful squeeze at the same time. 

You shiver and laugh at the same time, placing your hands over his’. 

“For someone who had a sad day, you’re being very touchy right now.” 

“I’m not trying anything just…” he sighs against your neck, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as possible, “...I get happy when you laugh. And if my goofiness makes you laugh, I keep doing it.”

“It does. You do. You make me laugh a lot”, you say, having to laugh a second later when he blows raspberries on your neck. “Not like this! I hate this, it tickles”, you squeal in giggles, fleeing him as he goes in for a second attack. “Jeon Jungkook, keep doing this and I’ll die right now out of spite.” 

“No, you won’t. I won’t let you”, he says, picks you up and sits you down on the laundry machine. He is between your legs, hands on your waist and lips claiming yours in a kiss. 

You smile and hum, tangling your fingers in his hair. He smiles as well, tugging on your lower lip before putting distance between your faces.

You cradle his cheeks, rubbing them softly. He leans into your touch, rubbing your waist. His eyes are spilling over with love and as he speaks, he does so in a soft voice.

“I just love being alive with you”, he says. He caresses your waist, your hips, your stomach and chest before landing on your face. “I love the way your skin feels, warm and soft. I love the way your hair falls, so beautiful and perfect. I love the way your eyes are so full of life and beauty and love how soft your lips are. You’re perfect and I love you.”

You smile, kissing his thumb as he guides it over your lips.

“I love you too, Kookie.”

“No but, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Jungkook lowers his eyes shyly, “I’m sorry, it’s getting too much, right?”

You tilt his head back up, mirroring his adoring gaze, “this could never get too much, my sweetie.”

He smiles giddily.

“Although I do fear that dinner might be getting cold if we keep being so sappy.”

“Oh dinner! I totally forgot. Wow baby, I’m so happy to be home”, he says, widening his eyes dramatically and rubbing his own tummy, “I’m so ready to eat, wah baby seriously.”

You snicker, “me too, baby.” You jump off the washing machine and take his hand. “First I wanna put on a shirt though. I’m not down to get sweet and spicy sauce on my titties.”

“Why not? You have me. I can clean everything you get on your boobs. I promise, I’m an expert.”

“You’re a dork, that’s what you are”, you say in a chuckle and a fond roll of your eyes.

[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 14

content warning: mentions of vomit/vomit related terms, more angst

word count: 3.4k (shoutout to the BETAAAA @slushycoookie)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

It was cold.

So cold.

The last thing he remembers was the prickles of the concrete through his pants.

Everything kept replaying in his head as if he were watching it unfold before him again. He still felt the way you pushed him, parts of his body flashing from where you shoved. The expression on your face was scorned and burned into his memory. The corners of your lips were deep, your eyes lost all color, your hands were trembling despite the steady tone in your voice, and you fought to keep the tears from running. It pained him.

He hurt you again and it was all a misunderstanding, again.

How was he so bad at this?

Miguel felt scared as he failed in opening up his constricted throat, but he couldn't stop it.

He kept thinking that maybe you would come back, maybe you were just around the corner waiting, but it feels like it’s been forever since you ran out of his room.

He needs to call you.

He needs to see you.

He needs to be near you.

Why can’t he?

“Miguel.”

A harsh hand shocks his shoulders, shaking him until the pivots and brick of the wall behind him scratch across his skin.

“Hey. Listen to me. Can you hear me?”

A frantic voice reaches the end of his ears, but it sounds far away. Was it his name? Were they talking to him?

It’s still so cold. His feet feel numb and his fingers won’t move.

The voice stops calling him and the hills in the wall are back in their rightful place, digging into his skin.

He wonders if you’re cold too.

The breath is knocked out of him, his eyes focusing on the ground under him. The air comes back into his lungs just as fast, the wind aiding him.

When did it start raining?

“Miguel,” he’s shaken again, but he can look up this time.

Peter squats in front of him with a worried face, orange bucket knocked over by his side.

“Did you just pour that on me?” is all Miguel thinks to say, his voice scratchy and almost gone.

“I panicked, ok? It was either this or the ambulance. It’s so weird to just drag your body back inside. Come on, get up before our RA actually does his job.”

With more strength than Miguel thought he had, Peter yanks him up and supports his weight, counting even steps as he guides him to their dorm room. The blood is slowly flowing back to his fingertips and the difference in temperature makes the hair on his skin rise.

One guy walks past the two of them with a look of curiosity, but the sense to not ask. Miguel starts to register how this looks.

Peter gets the door open fast and drops Miguel on a beanbag.

“You know, I didn’t expect for your party to turn out this wild. However, I also would have expected you to crash out back here. Or there. Or just, not in front of the dorm.”

Miguel’s body slumped and the events of today came crashing back onto him. He laughs, feeling the tears of his face mix with the water dripping from his hair.

He did have a party today and he did fuck up today. Majorly. The heels of his palms dig into his eyes as his body jerks, unable to keep up with his sobbing.

His roommate panics, “Did I say something wrong?”

Through what feels like a torturous hour, Miguel tells Peter what happens.

He was devastated.

It’s like a punch in the gut to repeat the words you said to him. They were like a betrayal, salt to the wound that was the finicky air between you both. He should have done more to communicate with you but instead he was leaving things up for chance.

You didn’t leave room for if’s or maybe’s and he stood there like a bumbling idiot, fighting to have you hear him.

On top of that, today was still his birthday. The party that one of his oldest friends gave to him sucked. A pack of gum would have been a better gift and for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why Xina did this.

Through this same hour, Miguel can’t stop crying. He can’t stop thinking about you and he wants to tear his heart out.

It’s not until his head hits his pillow that he has serenity, body tired from the day.

He thinks he’s called your number over seventy times. After the tenth call, the line didn’t connect. By the twentieth, there was only one ring and an automated tone.

By the thirtieth call, he’s trying not to freak out. By the fortieth call, he’s checking instagram to reach you there, but of course, you’re nowhere to be found.

By the fiftieth call, he’s sending message after message to the brick wall that is your number. At sixty, he’s considering digging up your school email from last year.

At call seventy-one, he’s wondering if carrier pigeons still exist.

It’s almost noon and Peter threatened to put his phone in a box if he didn’t stop trying to call you. Miguel hasn’t really moved since last night, not because it hurts, but because the warmth of the bed still felt like you were with him.

He hasn’t gotten up to eat or workout which is not the norm. He wasn’t hungry and his limbs felt extremely heavy.

Peter left to go find him something quick and easy, but Miguel isn’t sure if would be able to stomach it.

His phone buzzes, and a small part of him perks up hoping that it’s you.

Gabriel’s picture lights up the screen, a silly photo of him with his crooked goggles on inside of the water. The hope in him dies a little more.

He presses the green button and buries himself further into the sheets.

“What is up! I’m guessing you had a wild night last night since you didn’t call anybody.”

“I-“

“But before you tell me everything, I’ve got to catch you up. First of all, a squirrel stole my Aki-way sandwich. I knew Alvin and his brothers were giving their species a run for their money, but what did he say fuck me for? Then, it’s been a freaky ass club trying to get me to join in on their sexcapades. Dana said I could have eye candy, but the people in there honestly give me the heebie jeebies. Oh! I am now a godfather to several tiny doodles. My roommate’s dog unfortunately went on the prowl.”

Gabriel paused.

“Miguel, what’s wrong? You haven’t given your obligatory one to two sentences to break up my yapping.”

“Break up.”

“What?”

“She. She broke up with me.”

The silence was so long that when Gabriel started laughing, Miguel’s nerves jumped in his skin.

“That is actually so funny, like seriously. You got me,” Gabriel focuses the blurry screen back onto his face. “Are you crying?”

Miguel dropped the phone on his bed and sat up, bringing the collar over his shirt over his eyes and back down.

“Miguel, I thought you were joking. Please tell me you’re joking. This isn’t haha funny.”

“Why would I ever joke about this?” Miguel picked the phone back up, voice raw.

“Well, what happened? I don’t understand! You were so excited to see her yesterday. And- and you guys just had your anniversary.”

“I know that. God, I-I know that.”

“And I’ve never seen you this head-over-heels for anybody, not even for that girl that entertained you for like a week in high school. Did you do something?”

“Gabriel, please let me talk.”

His brother made a face as if milliseconds were too long of a time to think.

“This semester has been tough on both of us and we, no I, haven’t been making time to see her. It’s either studying or class or something else that gets in the way.”

“That’s not enough to warrant a break up. You’re not that shallow and neither is she.”

“She thinks I cheated on her.”

Gabriel sits up and tilts his head with a frown, “Huge bomb to drop out of nowhere. She’s all you can talk about sometimes, as in you can’t think about anything else besides her. And if school is causing you guys to not meet up, when do you have time to cheat?”

“I don’t! Even if I were to be in an alternate world where I’m this sleazy, terrible boyfriend, I wouldn’t have time. I go to the gym, I go to class, I go to the library, I go to my dorm. It’s because Xina is always-“

“Pause,” Gabriel put a hand to the screen. “Stop the fucking music.”

“What.”

“What do you mean Xina?”

“What do you mean, what do I mean?”

“Xina. As in the one who kicked me out of your room when we were younger?”

“Yes.”

“As in the one who didn’t give you the time of day for years, but became friendly once you beat her highest test scores.”

“Yes.”

“As in the one who completely flipped the dynamic of your friend group.”

“That’s-“ Miguel falters, but Gabriel keeps going.

“The one who was at our house constantly, especially when she found out that your dad owns the biggest tech company ever.”

“She didn’t-“

“The one who mom conveniently likes.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“The one who’s been pining after you for years.”

“No, she has not. Why do people keep saying that?”

Gabriel barked out a laugh again, harsh. “Miguel, I love you, but you can’t be this much of a dumbass.”

Miguel clicked his teeth as Gabriel continued, over this conversation.

“Do you see the connection I’m making here? Or should I spell it out further. Because it’s so clear to me what’s happening and you don’t even have to finish the story.��

“The story is that my girlfriend just dumped me because she thinks that I’m cheating on her with Xina-“

“But why, Miguel? Why does she think that?”

“I,” he takes a breath and thinks back to what you told him while you were hurt, vulnerable on this same bed. “I have been spending a lot of time with her, but only because we share classes. And because she’s my friend. I don’t want to be with her.”

“Does Xina know that?”

“Of course she knows she’s my friend. I have no reason to not be her friend.”

Gabriel made a noncommittal noise.

“What the fuck does that mean, Gabriel?”

“Don’t get pissed off at me because I’m not gonna coddle you for being an idiot.”

Miguel wanted to end the call, but he knows it’s only going to rile Gabriel up more.

“It’s so blatantly obvious that Xina likes you. Not as a friend, but as someone to date, whether it’s superficial or not. I’m not sure how you went so long without noticing, but here we are. Every time you’re with her, you entertain her, and now that you have, shit, had a girlfriend, she’s realizing that it’s too late.”

The knot that was lodged in his throat earlier was unfurling. Maybe it’ll finally come up, but he’s not sure as what yet.

“I made it clear that I,” the words get gargled in and thrown back out, “had a a girlfriend. And even when I didn’t have one, Xina never gave me exact words-”

“Oh my god, Miguel. She didn’t have to! You’re friendly, you’re considerate, you’re caring, and she’s used that to her advantage. Please, open your eyes.”

It’s not that he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to believe that someone he knew for this long would hurt him in this way.

“She was with me every chance she got. In classes or studying or going to the gym or just relaxing.” Purposefully taking his time.

“Out of everyone I introduced her to, she was only weird to my girlfriend.” When she wasn’t the center of his attention.

“She took my phone-”

“Crazy work, by the way. The phone and the weirdness.” Gabriel chimed in.

“-to silence my notifications, to block my girlfriend’s number. And I didn’t realize it, because I trusted her.”

“And that makes a lot more sense,” Gabriel laid down in his bed, face as stern as his mom’s. “Glad we got here. So what are you going to do now?”

He didn’t even mention what Andrew told him, about how he mistook his friend for something more. Is that how others saw them when they were walking around campus too?

Is this how you felt when you saw his phone?

Miguel sat up and hung his legs over the bed, “I want to puke.”

“Hold it in, big boy. This isn’t a marathon.”

“It feels like it.”

Miguel snatched his phone and went to the bathroom, stomach rolling like converse in a dryer.

“You need to find a way to talk to everyone, especially your girl. You need to explain yourself and the situation,” Gabriel’s voice echoed off the tiles. “You’re good at talking, no matter how long it takes you to realize things.”

He chuckled listening to his brother, sliding to floor. The room was hot and saliva was building on his tongue.

“I don’t think she wants to see me.”

“Maybe give it a week? Try the middle of the week if you can’t wait that long.”

He doesn’t know how he can reach you besides showing up outside of your door or your class. Isn’t that creepy?

Maybe he can catch you in the cafe.

“Gabri?”

“Yeah, Mig?”

The noise from his throat enters the air before his words do. All he sees is the white of the toilet and the fuzzy brown of the hamburger bath mat Peter insisted on buying.

“I didn’t think you were serious!” Gabriel shouts over his gagging.

Nothing was even coming up, just bile and the buildup of his feelings since yesterday.

“I’m turning you down,” Miguel can feel Gabriel grimacing without even looking at him. “You’re really lovesick. What are you going to do when you guys get married?”

His stomach lurched again.

“Will I even make it that far?” An image of you at the alter flashed by, and when he lifts the veil, the look on your eyes as you stood in this bathroom is painted on your face.

You might leave him at the alter. Forget the alter, you might not ever look at him again.

He coughed and heaved over the bowl.

“I hope you don’t do this when you actually talk to her, Miguel.”

“Shut. Up.”

In the brightly lit bathroom laid out on the floor is how Peter found him. By this point, Gabriel was practicing his instrument under the guise of calming Miguel down.

He leans over him with his hands on his hips, “Don’t tell me you got into my Twisted Teas without me.”

Gabriel paused his music to let out a sharp laugh.

“No,” Miguel groaned and put an arm over his head.

“He’s been crashing out for the past forty, almost fifty, minutes,” Gabriel says. “But now that you’re here, I’m gonna clock out. Let me know what you decide to do Miguel.”

Peter holds a bag up and smiles, “How does some warm, yummy potato soup sound?”

Miguel bolts up and gags.

“Not a fan favorite, I see.”

By Sunday, he’s able to get up with heavy eyes do some light walking around the park, the autumn sun a nice change of scenery.

He wonders how you’re faring.

A part of him hopes you’re not like him: sick, exhausted, and aimless. Another part of him, as crazy as it is, wishes for you to yearn for him as much as he’s yearning for you, to feel what he’s feeling, to care as much as he does.

He’s seeing you everywhere.

In the leftover box of cookies left on his desk, he thinks about how much time you could have spent on writing the messages.

In the figure of you both showcasing a night where you looked at him an aura of comfort.

In the brown bear keychain on his backpack that mocks him.

In the stickers on water bottle that he picks at while he walks.

In the lockscreen of you that he took of you as you were laid under him. You were in his hoodie, under his blanket, and staring up at him like he was giving you the world.

Perhaps he hit his head somewhere between Friday to today.

His throat is still throbbing from the crying, from running out after you in the chilled night without his keycard, but his head is clearer.

Now, he’s ready to think about how to approach you.

By Tuesday, everything seems to be blurring together. The only thing that has stayed consistent is the gym.

The gym gives him peace in a way that the right corner of his dorm doesn’t. It doesn’t change, only giving to him what he gives to it.

Maybe that’s what happened with you and him. You’re only giving him the pain that he gave to you.

He doesn’t want to go to class, but he can’t afford to not go.

So he drags himself to the computer lab.

Sitting down, he tries to think about what he wants to say, rolling the words over in his head.

“Miguel!”

Irritated is the first feeling that sits within him and the smell of that nutty sweet vanilla wasn’t helping.

“Dude? All of a sudden you don’t answer your phone?”

“You would know a lot about that, huh?”

Xina laughs and shakes the mouse at her computer, “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t have the patience for you to act like everything is ok.”

“I seriously don’t know what you’re talking about. Did you do some extra partying without me?”

“Xina,” Miguel turned to her, eyes tired. She was wearing another bright set today and the words that Gabriel, Tempest, Lyla, and Winston were telling him echoed through his mind. “What was the point of the ‘party’ you threw for me?”

“You’re upset over that? A simple college party?”

“That’s not what that was. You didn’t throw that for me. So please tell me why you’ve gone so far as to push my girlfriend away?”

“What?” Xina’s face switched like a light. “You must be joking.”

“Xina, I know you went in my phone and blocked her number. Why did you that?”

He’s giving her the floor to answer. To tell the truth.

“Of course this is about her. I, I just can’t”

“You-you can’t what, Xina?” the pitch of his words match her, head shaking incredulously.

“I can’t believe one girl is about to ruin an almost two-decade friendship because she can’t stand the fact that you have friends that are also girls.”

“You’re not serious.”

“No, you,” she points a nail at him, “are not serious. This is so fucked.”

“What’s fucked is that you’re avoiding my question, when all signs lead back to you.”

She stares at him, lips tight, “And you’re sure of it.”

“Who else would it be?” he motions to the space around him, “We’ve been tied at the hip this entire semester.”

“So this is seriously happening. Right here. Of all places.”

“You don’t get it, Xina. All of these years, I was the one who defended you. When everyone told me to leave you alone, I stayed by your side because I knew the real you. This,” he moves his hands up and down, “is not you.”

The face that Xina wears sours. For a second, Miguel wonders if, even in this situation, he was still wrong.

“So why aren’t you fighting for me anymore?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper. “Miguel-”

“I’m not going to fight for someone who is willing to hurt me in this way. I’m not fighting for someone who won’t even give me the truth when I’m begging for it.”

She pats at her cheeks, a useless action to stop the tears that start to hit her sweater. Her eyes find Miguel’s and she searches for something, anything, but his face is still.

“Understood.”

Just as quickly as she came in, she left.

Once again, Miguel was left questioning what he did.

divider by: cafekitsune + adornedwithlight + strangergraphics 🩵

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @emelie-s-h @lake-lili

@obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting

@flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02

@jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies

@samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu

@urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms

@love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx

@lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @cl3stevu

@ohara-whore @muneca-lemon-steppa @alexa4040 @amelialysm @snails-doodles22

@questionable-behaviour @babygotl01292003 @calig0sto @tatatida @haveclayeveryday

@corpsenightmarebride @earth2fae @maiyart @feegrh32 @darkstarlight82

@ladysimp @sonicbutbutter @relatednative @slowlyshycomputer @nuetralcolorsenthusiast

@maxlinpetersen @beyondstarlight @Madeofstar-dust @leoeloo @just-simpins-blog

@poisamm @thequeenreaders @tinybirdhidedout @aly29a2001 @mimi-sanisanidiot

@snakelore @pigeonmama @darkstalight82 @prettygirleli @koikohib

@jayskookies @xo-zeze @planetxella @thedevax @stressed-cherry

[salsakiyoomi]

megumi is dumbfounded.

it's four am when you stumble through the door of your shared apartment, and from the looks of it, you're drunk.

megumi glances up from his book, sizing your appearance — you look awful to say the least — your eyes are red and puffy and your lips are swollen as if you've been crying, and not to mention the key evidence of your drunken state, your flushed cheeks.

“ugh.” you groan loudly, rubbing your temple as you shut the door behind you with a hard thud.

megumi cringes at the sound, “well, you're being awfully noisy for someone who just stumbled in their house at four am.”

you jump, startled as if you've just noticed his presence — you blink at him, “hi, megumi.” you sniffle, your words slurred.

megumi quirks an eyebrow — yeah you've definitely been crying. “did something happen?” he asks.

you sigh, as if you don't want to be reminded of whatever occurred to you — it’s weird that you're even home right now, you were supposed to be staying at your boyfriend's place after all.

“boyfriend broke up with me.” you mumble, “caught him cheating.”

“oh.” that's all megumi can manage out — truth be told, he never liked your boyfriend, he thought you were too good for him.

“did you somehow spend most of your night at a bar then?” he asks after a moment, watching as you take your shoes off and then stumble your way towards the couch.

“yeah, drank my sorrows away.” you laugh bitterly, sitting down before burying your face in your hands, “i can't believe he did this to me.”

“he's a jackass.” megumi blurts, averting his eyes to his book, “and you're dumb for crying over him.”

you huff, “so much for being a comforting presence, fushiguro.”

“just saying.” he mutters, “forget about him, he's not worth your tears and go take a shower, you smell like beer.”

“ugh,” you groan, rubbing your nose, “i’m done crying — honestly, i shouldn't be that surprised, it was his girl best friend after all.”

“so you knew?” he asks and you nod, “had my suspicions.”

“then you shouldn't waste your time dwelling over him.” he says, and while his words may seem harsh, you knew he meant well.

“now go clean up, you look like a mess.” he says before turning back to his book, signaling an end to the conversation.

okay, well that was harsh.

“thanks, fushi.” you say, getting up and heading to the bathroom.

“don't call me that.” he calls out gruffly.

after a few moments, he hears the sound of running water and a bit of sobbing — he tries to focus on his book but his mind keeps wandering to your distressed state.

he shakes his head — what has gotten to him?

“idiot.” he mutters under his breath, his heart swelling, and he wonders when did he start to care so much about you.

tagging : @choccorin

a/n : this will probably be a series, so if you want to be added to the taglist, send in an ask! also special mention to @samaraxmorgan because her roommate sukuna series inspired me to write this <33

[lulunothulu]

“I've missed you”

Glen Powell x Reader

Summary: Glen is working overseas and misses you.

Content: pure fluff, talks of sex

You’d just gotten home when your phone’s FaceTime ringtone begins to chime. You pull it out of your purse and smile when you see Glen’s face pop up.

“Hi, baby,” you greet when you answer, smiling so wide you feel your cheeks hurting.

“Well hello beautiful,” Glen smiles. Scruff apparent on his face and Texas Longhorns hat on his head.

God, you missed his smile.

He’d been filming something “top secret” for the past few months and you were ready for him to come home.

“How was work today?” you ask, shutting your front door and sliding your purse off your shoulder. 

“Same old same old,” he drawls, propping his phone on something in front of him. “How was your day?”

“Kind of the same,” you tell him, sighing when you finally take a seat on the white couch Glen has in his living room. “Nothing fun ever happens.”

“Baby, you work at one of the top hospitals in the world,” he points out with a chuckle. “How can what you deal with be the same as other days?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I just didn’t want to make you feel bad for being so far away and not being able to have as much fun as I am.”

Glen laughs, making your heart ache and face crumple in grief. 

“Baby?”

“I’m sorry,” you tearfully say. “I just–” You take a deep breath before wiping your eyes and smiling sadly. “I just miss you.”

“I miss you too,” he tells you. His green eyes turn soft, worry and something else lacing his next words. “What can I do for you right now?”

You sniffle. “Just, distract me? I don’t know.”

Glen sighs, rubbing his temples while he thinks before looking back at the camera and smiling widely. 

“What?” you ask.

“What’re you wearing under all of that?” he asks, smirking to himself.

“What?” you laugh this time, disbelief rattling through your body.

“You heard me, sweetheart.” He leans forward, smirk still on his lips. “What’re you wearing under your clothes?”

Blood rushes to your cheeks, pulsing begins to start between your legs and you squeeze your legs shut to get it to stop.

“I have that lacy bra you got me last Christmas–”

“I love that one.”

“And the matching thong,” you finish.

Glen groans, his eyes rolling–obviously thinking about what you look like in them. “I can’t wait to come home.”

 “Now your turn, sir.” You watch as Glen’s brows raise slightly before he leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I’m wearing a the same thing,” he jokes, earning him a laugh.

He watches you a for a second, memorizing your sweet face and smile. He didn't want to admit it, but he missed you so much more. not even for the sex, but to be able to be around you, to hold you.

Tears begin to form in his eyes and you quiet down, smile still faint on your lips.

Glen swipes at his eyes before smiling sweetly at you. "I've missed you, beautiful."

"I've missed you too," you tell him. "Just a few more weeks."

"Actually, it'll be less than that." He smiles when your eyes go wide. "We're wrapping early so I'll see you in a few days."

You have to shove the sob down your throat. Excitement and relief wash over you before you close your eyes and open them again with a smile.

He's coming home and soon.

"That's great, baby," you croak.

"I knew you'd like that," Glen smiles. "Now, back to that matching lacy set..."

Something small but ugh I love it and him.

[pastry0w0rlord]

This One Really Missed

They would usually cook so hard with these games but they burned down the kitchen this time I'm afraid.

Lenght/Playtime:

Too short. Too little options. The flow chart of this game is pathetic and can't compare to the other 2. It felt like watching a movie.

Price:

Too expensive, my localized price was 8 bucks but I learned the original is 15 from steam reviews. If you really wanna buy the game wait for a sale, the price is unacceptable for this little decision making and 5 endings total.

Humour:

I only laughed out loud at one joke.

One.

And that was the Hat Man joke. Most of the jokes did not land this time.

The original games had this thing where the dark jokes regarding really sensitive topics (racism, homophobia, slavery, xenophobia, abuse...) landed because they had added context. Like:

- "I thought our photography teacher was a pedophile but turns out he is a white nationalist. That's not... better"

- "Uncircumcised men are gross because the media told me so, I am a teenage girl in late 2000s."

- Every straight person in school accusing Nicole of homophobia and talking over Ari because she got rejected when Ari is only angry that Nicole was mean about it.

- Jeffrey pretending to be a white nationalist, entering a straight club etc. not because his beliefs but because he desperately wants to fit in.

- That whole scene of Nicole's mom screaming at her under medicine influence about how she steals stuff from her medicine cabinet. Then Nicole, after a really morbid argument where she plays the victim to the audience, reveals that she does indeed steal her mom's meds.

- The whole route of Nicole bullying Jeffrey into being a school shooter got kicked off by Jeffrey being creepy in general.

and the list goes on.

The dark jokes had twists which made them funny. In Flip Side someone says something stereotypical or generally morbid out of nowhere and follow it with "I am not racist" or barely any acknowledgement. The biggest examples of this I can think of are the Turkish creep stereotype and the whole FYE ending.

They actually made an '09 game parodying the original. This game is what the series' haters think the first 2 games are.

The.. Feet Stuff..:

I swear it was funny at first, with social commentary and all. But then it kept dragging... and dragging...

Then I realized almost half of the game was dedicated to foot stuff. Cool...

Are the writers aware that all those minutes wasted could've gone to an ending with Jecka's mom whom she kept talking about in the first game?

Jecka:

They should rename Flip Side to "Pity Jeckainator 5000" because holy shit poor girl. The overall game was more bleak and sad than funny. Jecka breaks down sobbing multiple times and no one helps her.

Jecka's Father:

I don't know what they were trying to do with Jecka's father but none of his scenes were funny. In fact it was extremely triggering because I got treated like Jecka in the past by multiple people. Jecka is severely jittery, jumpy and horrified at the smallest yelling. She breaks down crying a lot yelling "don't hit me" and I do not see what purpose repeating her father's screaming at every scene with him serves if it isn't meant to be funny. There were literally times where I went "oh here we go again" and took of my headphones before he started screaming at her.

Nicole:

Guys Nicole is severely out of character in one of the foot fetish routes. I don't care if she is supposed to be a sociopath, that is not Nicole. Sociopaths can still separate right from wrong, they are still people so the "Nicole is a sociopath" argument I keep seeing holds no merit here.

Nicole has shown that she is capable of admitting to her mistakes in the prison ending of re-up.

Also lets put aside her mutual respect for Jecka and pretend Nicole doesn't know her at all. That still feels out of character for her. Think about it. Why does Nicole go after older men when she does?

- She is in danger and needs to act. (Coach Colby route)

- She has no other choice. (The route where her mom kicked her out)

- She is trying to get them arrested. (Her luring one of the faculty outside to get arrested)

Why would she, for no reason whatsoever, go after Jecka's dad?

You would argue that Nicole is a petty person from the Megan-Hunter route, but Megan made Nicole snap. She got provoked. Same with the Ari route. Ari was severely fucked up herself. What did Jecka do?

"I can't cut you in, I need this money Nicole"

That's it? Nicole already mentioned she was selling shoplifted goods as well so what is her objective here if not money?

Emily would do this(which she did), not Nicole, Nicole wouldn't bother. It's too much useless effort. They confused their own characters.

The Text from SBN3:

I am not gonna elaborate but that was so insane, wild and immature.

Some Stuff I Liked:

-Seeing Jecka's side of the first game suicide ending was cool.

-I actually liked the FYE route... until I didn't in the last 5 minutes of it.

-The Hat Man bit was seriously funny.

-The illustrations improved.

But yeah overall... Jecka deserved better than this game. I do not hate it for the small stuff I liked it for, but I will still try to pretend this never existed.

If you are here thank you for reading all of it. I usually don't do game reviews, I hope I didn't ramble too much

[serenitylovesyou]

I C A N B E A B E T T E R B O Y F R I E N D

W A R N I N G ! ! - the story contains swearing, mommy kink, praise kink, swearing, sloppy makeout scene, and sex.

As i scroll on tiktok, laying on my bed, snuggling with my teddy bear and wiping my mascara off my eyes with my black hoodies sleeve. I sob some more as the message repeats in my head.

“i think we need to break up.”

how dumb was I to think he was the one for me

“sick bastard.” i whisper to myself. i get caught in a wormhole and overthink what ive done that cause him to end the relationship, maybe i spoke too much around him? or maybe i didnt text him enough, but he hates when i bother him too much. these thoughts go on for a few seconds until i get a text from my friend chris. ive known him for a while and i could talk to him about anything, he just responded from the text i sent a couple of minutes ago about the break up

I hear the door bell ring and i see him standing there at the white large door frame. i examine his black fresh love shirt and jeans, he holding flowers and chocolates to make me feel better

“i got these for you on the way here”

“thanks chris, you really didnt have to”

“well i did, and i got another thing for you…”

“what is it?

chris turns me around and guides me to my bed room, he pulls out of his back pocket a lingerie set.

“chris what the fuck?!” i say as i laugh mid sentence.

“put it on”

“you really went out of your way to get me t-”

“put it on.”

im shocked that he can go from immature to serious in a heartbeat. i put it on and i notice him checking out my figure.

“god.. your so hot.”

i can feel his blue eyes darting at my body then my chest for a few seconds. he gets close and pushes me on the bed. his lips crash into my and he caresses my chest and slowly tries to slip it off. i moan to the touch of my sensitive chest and he pulls away for a second.

“i hope you know i can always be a better boyfriend then him. this will be proof..”

he slips off my panties and puts them in his pocket and unbottons his jeans and flips me over. he teases me by putting the tip on my whole. he slowly puts the tip in and starts to thrust back and forth and picks up the paste. my fingers claw on the sheets.

“mommy your doing so good for daddy, taking my cock like the good girl you are.”

i feel my self getting close and so is he, he picks up the paste even more and im grunting and panting like crazy.

“oh f- fuck.. im close, cmon mommy be a good girl for daddy and let me release in you ma.”

a few seconds later he cums inside me and i slowly cum after. he pulls out and wipes sweat of his forehead. he lays down on my bed next to me and we sit in silence for a few seconds then he looks at me.

“you should always know im always the better choice.” and he was right, this was way better then my ex.

I H O P E Y O U E N J O Y E D !

T H I S I S M Y F I R S T E V E R F I C I W R O T E S O I M S O R R Y I F I T S B A D !

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Well here I am ehehehe >:]

Santino having a breakdown and he breaks stuff around him, whatever he grabs and well accidentally hurt himself. John tries to calm him down and help him AGHH JOHN GET YOUR MAN HE IS HAVING A BREAKDOWN

Just get everything sharp or that can break away from him when he's like that, see what happens 😭

Hello hello! I’ve been thinking about this scenario all the time, ever since your asks for “Salt in the Wound” and “A Slap from a Saint”!! I made it really sad, like those fics.

🖤💙 The Boy in the Picture Frame 💙🖤

TW: panic attack, crying, accidental self-harm, blood, past physical and emotional abuse by a parent, discussion of disownment

John had spent all afternoon texting, in between pacing around his living room. He was trying to keep his lover talking - giving in to his flirting and doing anything possible to make him laugh. Santino was upset by a mistake he'd made the day before during negotiations with a Ruska Roma representative. The man had tricked him into boasting about the ferocity of his forces, revealing critical information about how security operated for the Camorra in New York. It was a rookie mistake, made because he was running on high emotions and little sleep, and Santino was taking it hard. It could mean punishment from the Camorra.

So, when John looked down at the screen and saw, "I'm sorry I just can't keep talking right now. Something came up, but don't worry," he froze.

Was it too much to call? Santino probably just wanted to be alone, and if that was the case, he'd be annoyed. But...well, better annoyed than hurt if things were really bad.

The shaky voice on the other end did nothing to encourage him. "John, please. I have someone on the other line. I just...he's really angry with me."

"Who? ...Your father?"

"I can't - I...." He switched to the other call again and was gone.

Suddenly, John found himself in his car and found that the speed limit was a mere suggestion.

They didn't live so far apart - Santino had chosen an apartment close to his boyfriend on purpose, and even gave him a second key. But by the time he burst through the door, it was already too late to stop Santino from getting hurt. John made his way through a trashed living room, stepping around overturned chairs and over glass from a broken picture frame, and calling Santino's name without any response.

He noticed, with a bittersweet twinge in his heart, that their photo together from Santino's birthday at the beach was the one thing that seemed untouched. Santino had chosen instead to destroy a family portrait, including both his parents, a young Gianna, and his own chubby face at four years old. Looking more closely, John noticed a smear of blood across the edge of the frame. He had torn out the picture, heedless of the jagged glass, and ripped the image in half...straight through little Santino.

A muffled, wounded sound in the bathroom distracted John from the horrible sympathy that was threatening to crush his ribcage. "Santino?" He ran to the bathroom door. It was unlocked and there, finally, was his lover - although the sight of him couldn't be called a relief. He was sitting on the ground against the wall with alarming red droplets glistening all around him and a messy bandage trailing from his hand. The only reason he wasn't actively sobbing seemed to be the shock of John's sudden entrance.

"What - John?"

John dropped to his side, not knowing what to say. He felt huge in that room, as if he might crush Santino further. His hands hovered over Santino's shoulders, wondering whether it was okay to touch him, before Santino just collapsed against his chest and started crying even harder.

"Thank you," he managed after a few minutes. "Thank you for coming. And look at the thanks you get in return... I got blood all over your shirt." He laughed hollowly.

"It's okay." John took his half-bandaged hand and felt him wince. "Sorry." He started unraveling the gauze. It was a pretty deep cut in Santino's palm, probably from grabbing carelessly at the broken picture frame. At least it didn't look bad enough to need stitches, but Santino was incredibly tense at every touch.

"You don't have to do that. I can do it myself."

"I know. But I don't want you to have to do that anymore." They'd talked about this - how it brought back bad memories for Santino to treat his wounds alone, as he'd had to do in childhood.

"I'm sorry, John. I was so stupid."

"No." That was all, a simple rejection of the very idea that any of this was Santino's fault. John didn't trust himself to say more without getting angry - not even remotely at Santino, but at all the people who had failed him throughout his life. He kissed the finished bandage and then looked up at Santino's anguished, watery eyes. "Do you have another copy of that picture?"

Santino hesitated. "It's on a flash drive. I think Gianna has it. But I don't want it anymore. I think..." He took a deep breath, on the verge of saying something crucial. "I think I'm not a part of my family anymore."

"What? What do you mean?"

"Well...my father asked me to come back to Italy. He said I'm failing out here in New York, and he wants me to come back immediately. And I'm not doing that. Fuck him." He laughed, and it wasn't so hollow this time.

John couldn't help grinning. "Good."

"Good? That's all?" Another laugh. John could feel him getting stronger in his arms. More at ease. "You really never say anything, even at a time like this. I'm still getting used to it."

John thought for a moment. "No, it's not all. I want to know why you ripped through the picture of your own face instead of theirs."

He tensed up again. A long time passed before he spoke, but John had promised never to judge him. Always to listen. So, finally, he extended some trust. "I fucked everything up. I was broken from the start. I was weak. That's why he..."

Again, "No."

A mocking reply, dripping with stubborn, defensive sarcasm, "Yes." John could hear the wavering undertone. Really? Do you promise? Say it again.

"No. You were hurt. It's not on you. They lost you and not the other way around."

The reassurance was too much for Santino and he crumpled against John's chest again. For a while, John held him, listening to his sobs and to the dripping sink. In his rush to try to patch himself up, he must not have shut it off properly. He must have been struggling. John wove his fingers deeper into his hair, trying to massage self-love straight into his brain.

"Do you think Gianna will still talk to you?"

He huffed and pulled back again, tired but finally calm. "...Maybe. In secret. Who cares?"

"Well, I still want you to get a copy of that picture if you can."

"Why?"

"I want to cut out the little Santino and frame him by himself, for my mantlepiece. He was the good part. You are the good part. Not the rest of them."

[1-siracha]

satan: how do you say hello in punjabi?

mc: sata srī akāla

beel: ...sashimi??

mc + satan: BEEL are you FUCKING DEAF??

[beybuniki]

a hug from mom

[rintoorou]

having the miya twins as your brothers would mean them betting over who’d cry on your wedding first

[fear-no-mort]

i Forgot tjat season one ended with morty making the decision to stay with rick and keep going on adventures together despite at the time sincerely just thinking he’s a shallow heartless jerk and nothing else and acknowledging that all he does is bother and inconvenience him. and in that moment it couldve been so easy to leave him too he did Nothing to stop it morty was the one who had to make the decision so he could keep being with rick. they are literally beyond reasoning

[samirant]

Jaime Lannister. Colin Bridgerton. James Beaufort.

My favorite male archetype is beautiful dumbass who falls in love so hard he causes physical damage to himself and I see nothing wrong with that.

[bakafurai]

yeah that's fine I didn't need my heart anyways