#sad girl hours sorry

[paniniqueen]

Just a tired old cliche…

I’m 23 years old and just waking up to the fact that I will never achieve what I thought I would. The person I am now is so vastly different from that smart and talented 16 year old with so much potential.

tumblr user @raenprabhaker // tumblr user @ritikajyala //Alias, Regret // Taylor Swift, “this is me trying” // Comment by Pinterest user Inatoli // Taylor Bickett, “Quarter Life Crisis” // Taylor Swift, “right where you left me” // my notes app diary // tumblr user @jb-blunk // Alias, Regret // Taylor Bickett, “Quarter Life Crisis” // tumblr user @ritikajyala

[babygirlblogger]

i feel as if i have a good relationship with no one; not God, not my parents, my siblings, my cousins, my friends, food, education, nothing.

everytime, something goes wrong, i am filled with the thoughts that i am being punished for my sins; for being mean, for being angry and cold.

i feel like a teenage girl captured in the walls of my house with my soul imprisoned from guilt, karma, and regret.

[lycheedr3ams]

angst no comfort drabble that no one asked for

1.2k words

EmotionallyUnavailable!könig x sad!reader

TW: smut, feelings of loneliness, desperation, low self-esteem, fem!reader just wanting to feel loved, some mentions of predator/prey, slight mentions of canon-typical violence

i'm in my feels rn and this idea came to mind actually scratch that, i don't have emotions

part 1 of Relapse

being the new and pretty member of the task force wasn't as easy as everyone thought it was.

your friends would just swoon over the thought of you being surrounded constantly by tall and muscular soldiers whom they were convinced just fell to their knees at your feet.

it couldn't have been farther from the truth.

yes, you were an incredibly skilled member of the team. you were undoubtedly an essential asset, and everyone respected you. but being surrounded by men so often, even though you were definitely a woman with soft curves and plush breasts, you were usually seen as "one of the guys." it didn't matter how pretty you looked when the mission was over, with your perfume on for once, clean hair, and your favorite outfit. yes, you were pretty, but that didn't seem to really get you anywhere.

if anything, you'd been told that you were intimidating. most men had never met such a strong and determined woman such as yourself, a woman who could kill just about anyone she wanted. men wanted someone easy to manipulate, someone soft and pliable who wouldn't question them. you were the opposite of that.

sure, men on base would certainly stare at you when you wore comfy skirts when you weren't on duty, or when you'd put on makeup when you and the task force went to the bar, but that was it: just stares. no secret love letters tucked under your door, no bouquets of flowers mysteriously appearing in your locker, no advances or conversations that made you feel like a woman again. most of the time, you would pretend not to hear as the men around you constantly engaged in locker-room talk about other women on base. it was easier that way, to pretend like you didn't hear it rather than argue with these pigs until you were seeing red.

that was, until könig joined the team. he always looked at you differently than the other men on base would. he would stare at you, but it didn't always feel like that stare that men give when they're undressing you with their eyes. no, his stare was more one of quiet admiration mixed with desire. but like the others, könig never approached you, opting instead to admire you from afar. but you were growing desperate for a man's touch, having had enough of everyone saying "it'll come when you least expect it." so, you decided to try and approach könig every once in a while, trying to strike up an amiable conversation or two. on the surface, it looked like you two were just engaging in social niceties in order to work better on the task force. that was, until one night, that casual conversation led to you lying naked on his bed, with him staring at you like a hungry animal as his breathing grew heavy.

you didn't want to sleep with someone on your team, until könig. you always wanted to keep your relationships with your coworkers professional, but könig was, as cliche as it sounds, irresistible. especially with the way you felt so desired and wanted when his rough hands pawed at your soft breasts, and the way he'd just tremble in excitement when he saw your wet pussy spread and willing for him. it was the way he'd gently touch your waist when he passed you in the hallway, his nonverbal signal saying everything his mouth couldn't. you'd follow him to his room as inconspicuously as possible, your heart pounding with anticipation, knowing that within 5 seconds of stepping into his room, you would feel desired again.

könig would never kiss you though. that accursed sniper hood always stayed on, and he would never budge about that. the only time you felt his lips or his tongue was when he ate out your pussy like a starved man. sometimes, he would lick your neck or your breasts when he was feeling especially needy, but those times were rare. you never pushed him on it, but you knew the desperate look in your eyes betrayed you. but he never budged.

those nights spent under his sweaty, grunting body as he brought you to heaven and back was like a drug that you always needed more of. his hands on your skin made you feel wanted, his hard cock in your warm pussy made you feel desired, and the way he'd gently clean you with a warm, wet towel afterwards made you feel loved. but don't be mistaken: könig did not love you.

there were a fair share of nights when könig would pass you in the hallway without so much as a glance, nights he preferred to spend by himself. you'd watch him walk past you with wide eyes when you didn't feel his touch, and you wondered if maybe he had gotten tired of you. maybe you forgot to shave that day, you wondered, or maybe you didn't put on enough perfume, or maybe your outfit wasn't cute enough or maybe, worst of all, that könig was finding solace in the arms of another woman that night. you never knew what the reason was, but you always knew that on those nights, you would shed a few tears as you lay alone in your bed and just wanted, needed to feel valued.

könig never treated you any differently during work hours, which you supposed you should be grateful for. he didn't give you preferential treatment, and he also was not mean to you. he had a surprising ability to treat you like nothing ever happened between you two on most nights. he knew that he was your drug, but he never took advantage of that. könig was so professional that it made your head spin. how could he look and treat you the same way the next day after being fully sheathed inside you the night before, trembling and praising your pussy in his native tongue? you could've kissed the ground he walked on if he so asked, but he simply acted like you were nothing more than a coworker when you weren't in his bed.

something that always bothered you was that könig always wore a condom. you never got to feel the smooth, warm skin of his hard cock, except for when it was in your mouth. you knew he could see the disappointment in your eyes whenever he wrapped his cock in that accursed plastic, but he pretended not to. despite being inside you in the most intimate way possible, könig always made sure that there was a boundary between you: a boundary of pliable plastic and the fabric of his hood.

you were addicted to the way his hands and cock made you feel desired, wanted, and valued. he took you animalistically most nights and treated you as politely as ever during the day. you finally felt a woman on the nights he took you in his bed. you finally felt like someone saw you as more than a soldier, as just a human woman needing connection. maybe könig did see you like that, or maybe he didn't. you two never talked much in the bedroom. you were too scared to break whatever unspoken agreement there was between you.

despite your unspoken devotion to him, könig never budged with his boundaries or behavior. so you grew accustomed to feeling the drug of his affection only on the nights he decided to graze your waist in the hallway as he passed, and you always pretended like you were truly wanted during those precious moments.

[caprart1]

Thinking about that silver haired guy again, here's a gif so you have something to look at while I yap

At first I was a lil confused by Remake's decision to introduce Sephiroth so early into the plot, considering his first appearance in the original was in the Nibelheim incident. But the more I think about it, the more I realize it's actually kind of brilliant

All throughout Remake, we see Sephiroth as something that doesn't seem entirely human. Something about him is strange and cold, and his character is just shrouded in so much mystery. But with his re-appearance in Rebirth, what we see of him again is a glimpse of who he was before that. We see him as someone warm, encouraging, a little humorous, and most importantly, human. It feels more impactful because already we are familiar with him and the destruction he is capable of, and seeing him as the opposite feels like a loss of what could have been. Something we will never see again of him. I think it helps in understanding and creating a greater emotional bond towards his character, as opposed to the original where it's the first side of him we see

[niceminipotato]

Angsty times right now cuz I keep seeing the gifs of Alcina turning into her mutated form because of Ethan.

I keep picturing her handmaiden in the background. She told Alcina where Ethan was. There are tears in her eyes because the girls are gone and everything is a mess and she has no idea what will happen now. So she’s hiding in the back of the chapel as per her lady’s orders. She watches in horror as Ethan stabs her lady on the side.

She’s frozen to the spot, her eyes go wide at the pained wail her lady releases. And then everything really goes wrong. She knows her lady’s mutation is out of control. It’s a safety mechanism. So the handmaiden knows her lady is really hurt.

Cracks appear throughout her lady’s skin and wings sprout forcefully from her back. She bends this way and that in pain. The handmaiden takes a step and her lady’s head snaps to look at her. Her eyes are glowing a deep red. She was about to snarl but her gaze softens.

There’s pain, grief, frustration, longing, and sorrow in her eyes. The handmaiden wants to run to her. She wants to make her lady feel better. She wants to turn back time. To save everyone but she can’t. She’s human, she has no power, she’s weak, she’s nothing. Her lady’s form is shacking from the effort of holding off the full shift.

“Stop.” Her lady’s halts her from going to her. She sounds so unlike herself, her smooth and lush tone gone and replaced by a crackly almost whiny sound.

“My-” the handmaiden tries to protest but her lady interrupts her.

“You asked me what I wanted from life and I couldn’t answer truthfully. It’s too late now but as they say…” she groans out as pain overwhelms her for a few seconds. “Better l-late than never. I think a life with-with my gi-girls and you would have been enough. You would have been enough, draga.”

“Alcina…”

A high pitched yelp escapes her lady and she closes her eyes for a second before looking at her once more. “Good…” she pants and shakes and her wings ripple and more appendages appear behind her. “Goodbye, draga mea.”

With that her lady turns away from her and lets go. She shifts fully into her battle form and bursts out from the side of the tower. And her handmaiden sinks to the ground and weeps because she knows. She knows what happens next. She knows that was the final goodbye. She knows death is the only end and she knows nothing will bring her girls or her lady back.

I’m so very sorry, potatoes. 😣😭

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Understandably So no one mentions charles when talking about the Logan movie and again Understandably So This Aint Bout Him however i do confess that as someone who had never seen Logan until like. a month ago when i was binging all the movies and without knowing a single thing about it aside from laura i cant lie i was in fact jumpscared by him being there. especially for at least like 3/4s of the movie

[good-beanswrites]

Remembering how Futa said in one timeline that there’s no way a woman could beat a man in a fight and got his ass beat. Can you do a crackfic of the girls beating him up for that?

Ahahaha thank you for the request!! This was really fun to write omg -- and well deserved, there was no need for all that in the timeline convo 😤 He was too busy thinking of leverages and forms he failed to consider the fury of a woman scorned..... may he rest in peace......

Fuuta didn’t even know what he did to earn himself an ass-beating.

“Oh, you know what you did,” Yuno said. She closed the cell door behind her. 

Whatever it was, it had managed to anger every woman on the premises. He thought it took a lot to get girls riled up this much – something like cheating on them or calling them names, you know? But without a single action on his part, he found himself facing Yuno, Muu, and Amane. All three had a fire in their eyes that Fuuta was not liking the look of. 

Mahiru had pointed him to his cell, saying Es was looking for him there. She spoke strangely as she did it, and waited awkwardly outside as he went in, but everyone around here was a little odd. How was he supposed to distinguish when people were being murderer-in-a-supernatural-prison weird from setting-a-trap-to-corner-him-in-his-cell weird?

He waved his palms in front of him. “Listen, listen! Let’s just talk, okay? Let’s slow down.”

Muu cracked her knuckles.

Amane began rolling up her sleeves in perfect creases. “You have doubted our abilities. We will make you a believer.”

Fuuta took a few steps back. His voice came out loud and frantic. “What are you talking about? If you’re looking to pick a fight, you better think twice, because I’m not gonna hit a girl or anything.”

“Oh, good!” Yuno’s voice was as bubbly as always as the three closed in. “That will make our job a lot easier.”

He felt his back hit the wall. “I mean it, let’s just talk about this for a sec! Hey!”

Mikoto’s voice came from outside the cell. 

“Mappi? What’s going on in there?”

“Yes!” Fuuta called, “Mikoto! Help! They’re gonna kill me in here!”

“Oh, no need to worry~ The girls are just teaching him a little lesson about not saying awful things.”

“Isn’t this going a bit too far…? What did he even say?”

“Nothing! Come on, get me the fuck outta here!”

“I believe his exact words were, ‘there’s no way a girl could win in a fight against a man.’”

Fuuta paled. He did say that, didn't he...

“Oh crap. Yeah, that’d do it. Carry on.”

“Wha–? Mikoto!” 

He gaped at the three in front of him. 

He remembered a hero in a video game who had faced off against an unbeatable foe; a glorious knight who came to understand that he could never conquer the world-razing dragon before him. After giving his all, and seeing his fate was sealed, the hero had no choice. In a manly show of valor, he’d lifted his chin, closed his eyes, and accepted his impending, gory death.  

Yuno's gaze was cold as she raised her arms. Muu had a hungry look in her eyes. Amane clenched her fists, her posture perfect.

It wasn’t a dragon, but Fuuta would argue this was a good deal more dangerous. He lifted his chin and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Get ‘em, girls!”

—

Kotoko approached just as the other girls filed out of Fuuta’s cell. They had giddy looks on their faces. They giggled and whispered in a huddle as they walked around the panopticon. 

“Wow, Muu!”

“Haha, I didn’t know you had it in you!”

“That felt amazing…”

Kotoko didn’t know what kind of game they were all playing in there, but Fuuta was in for a big surprise now. The fun was over. Today was the day she acted out her responsibilities as Es’ fang. Today was the day she delivered justice. 

She swung the cell door open. Her eyebrows shot up. 

Her head whipped around to take a look at the girls, still complementing one another and laughing lightly.

Hell, her work here was already done.

[starryalpacasstuff]

Let's talk about how lonely it feels once you realize that everyone you grew up with hates an integral part of what you are. Let's talk about wondering what goes through your friends' minds when they make crude, insulting jokes while knowing that you're queer. About learning the hard way that acceptance cannot be your default expectation in the world you live in. Let's talk about the horrible game you have to play with every person who isn't openly declaring their hate for gay people to figure out where a person stands on queerness without ever mentioning them. About how you already know what the result will be, but you allow yourself to have a tiny bit of wretched hope every time that you will be proven wrong, only to be proven right every time. About learning to expect the worst instead of the best from people. Let's talk about how people don't even use slurs because 'gay' is insult enough to them. About how tired and alone and pissed you feel. About being exhausted of compromise, compromise, compromise when all you want is to be loved for who you are. About wondering why can't people just let people be. Let's talk about smiling awkwardly and faking laughter at jokes that make you die a little inside. About wanting to scream and fight but knowing that ultimately, it's useless. And let's talk about feeling completely, utterly, helpless to do anything about any of it.

[biowho]

I just saw a post about how apparently there’s “this ‘big name fan’ blogger on here threatening to deactivate their tumblr because they’re not getting enough likes/reblogs and not making enough money” in regards to Mass Effect…..

I have never been so happy or content with my little island (this sideblog) as I was when I read that post and realized I have absolutely no idea who the hell they’re talking about

I’m just hanging out chilling and every once in a while I see a cool rock (a post) and I pick it up and wave around (queue it) blissfully unaware of the dark shapes (people who have probably blocked me) swelling underneath the depth of the water

Like how there’s a take two of that bioware favorite poll I made last year going around and I had no idea until I got a few asks (sorry for not answering them) asking if I was mad about it! Why would I be mad about it?!? I don’t care! I’m not in control the poll function on tumblr.com nor who uses it!!

Anyways this was a really long winded way of saying thank you to everyone for most of the time not being freaks in my notes on this sideblog whether that be on a post I make or one I rb from someone else

[monkii-bombs]

Also this is an idea I have and am getting super attached to

BAD DOOLE. I just!!!!!!!

[kaidabakugou]

the new girl at one of my favorite bakeries called me pretty this morning and it literally melted all my stress away 🥺

[crybaby-bkg]

I love mythology so much and it’s taking everything in me to not write a full fledge fic about a Cupid and Psyche au omfg

justttttt Cupid Bakugou who is just so, so fucking beautiful. he’s always been recorded by other mortals for being akin to sunlight himself—all golden hues and sharp angles and high cheekbones and massive wings. wings that span as wide as an entire village, that sparkle when the light hits them, loud when they beat to send him soaring into the skies above. but his mouth? his attitude?

everyone always wonders why he was never the god of war, instead. but he’s damn good at his job, with his arrows propped up on his back, swift with discharging them into another stupid mortal who’s fallen for the local towns idiot. but hey, they’re in love, and it’s his job to enforce that love go over well.

and then he sees you—the most beautiful mortal, that you’re even compared to the gods, to his mother. he wants you so bad, if not to treasure and keep you against his side as he travels over the oceans cold waters, than to keep you safe from the vile men who want you as their partner and the disgusting women who envy you for having it all.

omg and the part where he takes you to stay in his palace and asks you not to ever look at his face???? it’s killing him, to wear that mask to your nightly dinners, to be able to look at the soft curve of your mouth when you frown and ask him to reveal himself. to be able to look at how you stare back at him, eyes pretty and furious, frustrated and mad, wanting to go back on the conditions you agreed upon because having to sit across from him without seeing him is absolute torture. I am. vibrating.

[winryrockbellwannabe]

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

that's it, thank you for coming to my TEDTalk

[joselandsallee]

Truly heartbreaking 💔

If wishes could bring you back, you never would’ve left. ☹️

[photosofyou]

sometimes i think i would rather not live on the planet if it means to feel this empty at night.

i always give too much for others

i never get put first.

[multiwreckedmess]

No Reason, One

Synopsis - Vaxxed, waxed, and ready to well...you know how the saying goes. That was supposed to be your motto. Unfortunately, you were never that kind of girl.

Pairing - Mingi x fem!Reader (reader gets called a girl and has a vagina)

CW - Smut. Alcohol. Partying. Anxiety. An additional TW under the cut.

Word Count - 3.4k~ (This part)

This is sort of an angsty multi part smutty thing I started writing this past spring and I am oddly attached to it. I’ll post the other parts later as I clean them up. it’s been across like 2 computers and 2 word processors so sorry for any of the formatting/grammar fallout from that.

 TW: Sex does not go all that well, not sure how to tag it but basically reader has some issues around anxiety which translate to the bedroom. There’s a lil shame involved with it but I promise Mingi is real sweet about it. 

 It was another cold grey January morning when you saw him. Wishes for a white Christmas had gone unanswered and all that was left was a damp chill the seeped through your winter jacket. He was laughing with his friend, similarly tall and handsome, waiting at the corner for cars to pass so they could cross.

 There is absolutely no reason to miss you.

 A phrase you had repeated often these last couple months whenever you felt a pang in your heart and lump in your throat. Yours was an ill-fated relationship from the start -- always hooking up but never crystalizing into anything real. The two of you had met shortly after clubs had reopened while you were out with your mutual friend, San. You'd been hesitant at first to go out, but the promise of skin-to-skin contact was too much for your touch starved body to ignore.

 "This is Mingi!" San had to shout through his mask and over the thrumming bass as he pulled his tall friend to you by the wrist. "I think you two would like each other!"  Mingi was tall, dressed in fitted black slacks, a half unbuttoned white dress shirt concealing his chest just enough to be maddening. Even without seeing his entire face you’d bet on him being stunning. Besides, you'd never seen San with an unattractive friend. Peeking over his mask you could see his eyes crinkle into half-moons, body shifting back and forth to the rhythm. By the time you’ve managed to introduce yourselves to each other over the thudding bass San’s already ventured off with Wooyoung in search of shots for the group. Feeling bold, you danced closer, placing your hand on his torso. Mingi takes the hint, slipping an arm around your waist, his hand resting at the small of your back, guiding you even closer, lower torso nearly touching. Well-mannered and handsome, it felt like San had dropped a life raft into your lap and flitted off into the smog of the dimly lit dance floor.  Intoxicated by the mood lighting and emboldened by a couple of drinks, your hand migrates to his shoulder, using it to stabilize a couple attempts at bodyrolls before dropping your head against his chest, shyness winning out. Pressed to him like this you can feel his body shake with laughter better than you can hear him. Tapping your shoulder, he stoops slightly to meet your eyeline, eyes crinkled with joy, faux fanning himself before spinning you into him, hands at your hips, torsos now smashed together. This was how people danced together, he’s good, you though.

 Fuck he was good.  Was good.  Operative was. Not is.

 Lost in old memories, your back hits the seat as the bus accelerates, crashing back to present reality, stomach dropping. He looked just as happy as ever, just as happy as the night you’d met. Did he have someone finally? How many new numbers had been added to his contacts? Surely he hadn’t sat around the entire time waiting to see if you’d changed your mind. You wouldn’t have if it had happened to you like that. If you started crying then no one would notice, or if they did, they wouldn’t say anything, you’d be far from the first person to cry on public transit. No, you weren’t going to cry. You didn’t mean for this hookup to happen. The two of you were never even a real couple, just a bundle of possibilities and could haves. Breathe.

 There is absolutely no reason to miss you.

 Mingi led you through a dark hallway, past the bathrooms, through a velvet curtain, and finally emerging out onto the concrete of a small alleyway. Tinged red and yellow by the safety lights you remove your masks in full. In this halo of light, he pushed his sweat-slicked bangs back you could finally see him; strong nose, sculpted chin, and pouty lips quickly breaking into a wide smile, "another check for San" you thought wryly. Seeing each other mask-less felt surprisingly intimate, heart fluttering, both of you standing awkwardly for a second, sizing each other up. Alcohol suddenly heavy in your stomach and lack of momentum hits you in the back of the knees and you stumble on nothing, teetering back and forth in slow motion. To his credit, Mingi attempts to catch you but you both go backwards towards the wall, his hand cushioning the back of your head from the concrete bricks.  “Oops-sorry-I-uhm-” you stutter, his face closer than anyone’s had been since the start of the pandemic.  “Sorry–” he overlaps your stuttering with his own, whipping from suave man to schoolboy in an instant.  You giggle. He’s flushed.  “You’re so cute.” A flash of sobriety passes between you, seeing each other, really seeing each other, for the first time that night. Butterflies bloom in your gut as your eyes take a long drink before your brain gently reminds you how impolite it is to stare.  “Is that it?” He tilts his head to the side, eyes looking to meet yours.  “You’re tall.” You hide beneath your lashes.  “Is that it?”  “…and handsome…”

 He grins, suddenly keenly aware of how close he is your breathing becomes erratic, you can feel the thrum of the bass through the brick overwriting your racing heartbeat. His gaze is intense enough to tie your tongue in place. “…and?”

 You hadn't intended to hook up with anyone that first night out at the club, but intentions have a funny way of flying out the window once enough alcohol is introduced. Practically sprinting up two flights of stairs to keep up with Mingi's long legs, you’re breathless, watching him fumble in his pockets for his keys. As he unlocks the door he clumsily wraps an arm around you, maneuvering your back to the door and leaning in for a kiss. You jiggle the doorknob and in a flash the both of you are crashing your way over the threshold, laughing like idiots.  "Honey, I'm home!" He yelled into the darkness still chuckling, earning a slap on his bicep, a dim entry light flickering on as the door snapped shut behind you. "For the record--I'm a certified bachelor...if you were worried."  "I'm not worried! It just wasn't as funny as you thought it was." You pout.  "Maybe I'll be funnier with my dick tickling your cervix." His lips curving into a half smile as your jaw drops with a sharp gasp.  "MINGI! Is that a threat?"  "Mmmh," he hums, sizing you up briefly before wrapping you up in his embrace, “I'd like to think it's more of a promise.”  You don’t have time to think as his forearms drop under your ass, hoisting you up. Perhaps he had intended for eye level but overestimating in some regard your breasts smash into his face instead. Both of you explode into laughter as he buries his face in your chest, nose smashing against your sternum. A blink of nervous energy pulses between you. It’s the first time you think ‘oh we’re going to do this’ and it sends a shiver up your spine. Nerves nearly overtake need as you look down into his eyes. He's so handsome, brows, cheekbones, chin, lips-- with eyes staring up at you like you’re the brightest star in the sky, you almost feel special.

A sudden jerk of the bus sends you hurtling forward. How many stops had it been? You pull the cable to stop and the bus slows at the sleepy corner of your street. Again, your stomach flips, guilt settling in the pit like a stone. You needed to stop your memories there. You did not need to remember this. There was no reason to spend time thinking about the snapshots of another failed situationship. Well, there was at least one reason to replay these moments over and over. The sick ritual of self-hatred that would spring from the smallest moments, punishing yourself for letting your feelings get the better of you. Something about how your heart seemed to swallow itself felt deserved. You shouldn't have been shocked to see him out and about. In fact you should've expected it sooner; social circles overlapped, neighborhoods shared grocery stores. Had Mingi uprooted his life like you had in the wake of your scrawled note? The aftereffects of the ticking bomb you’d left on his counter. You’d done what you could to avoid him, quietly adjusting your life around what you knew of his. It meant no more nights out, not with San for sure, nor Wooyoung, nor Yeosang. Not that any of them knew what had happened between you and Mingi. Not that anything had really happened.

There was absolutely no reason to miss him.

 Blinded by excitement the two of you bumped your way to the bed, clothes discarded haphazardly. Mingi latched to your chest, face mashed into one breast, large hand palming the other. Both of you grind against each other feverishly. Mingi is messy, sucking harshly at your nipple, earning a pleased groan. The attention he lavishes on your chest and neck has your hands grappling to his hips to pull him to you, mad at any loss of pressure. So close. You are so close. You miss time a thrust against him and he slips down towards your entrance, losing the much needed contact and denying your release. Understandable and regrettable.  “Fuck–shit–condom–” Mingi mutters between gasps, bucking against you involuntarily, bumping clumsily into your cunt. He flings himself to the other side of the bed dramatically, practically tearing himself away from you. A motion made more dramatic by his sheer height and limb length. You hear him rustling in the drawer of his bedside table, finally fishing out a telltale foil packet and ripping it open.  The loss of contact, momentum towards your goal, it’s frustrating. He’s a little frustrating. You’re a little drunk and the world is wavy. Eyes rolling with your head to the side you search for him in the low light. Even silhouetted in the dark you can tell he’s big, erection jutting proudly from his torso. “You’re very…proportional,” you manage to slur out, propped up on your elbows, watching him clamber back to kneel between your legs. He exhales a small chuckle, gripping your thighs he pulls you to him, lower half draped over him, covered cock resting against your stomach. He slides sloppily along your slit, until he finds your entrance, leaning over you to kiss your sternum again. Pangs of anxiety shoot through your body and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. It’s been a minute. And he’s big. You can feel the pressure in your lower half and try to calm yourself. Meanwhile he tries to push into your slowly but he meets immediate resistance. Just what you were so afraid of. You reach down to help, massaging some of the fluid and lube around to try to ease the tension. He tries again, your body involuntarily scoots from him with a whimper.

 “Fuck-you’re so tight,” he pants into your chest, chuckling nervously.  “S–sorry. Been a while,” you try to laugh casually, breathing deeply into your diaphragm, attempting to relax your pelvic muscles. Relax, relax, relax, even though the word doesn’t help you repeat it. You were worried this would happen. Somehow you knew this would happen. You want to throw up from the anxiety of this happening.  Mingi reaches down between your thighs, adjusting himself and brushing his finger tips against your clit momentarily. He gives a third go. Pressure, burning. You grimace and groan, tugging away from him again, unable to fight the instinct from the pain of the stretch of his cock breaching your walls. He’s already pulling away from you as your hands scrabble to his hips, sitting back on his haunches, huffing. You half sigh half groan, frustrated, a hot wave of embarrassment floods your cheeks.  “Hey it’s fine I don’t want to for–”  “I want to I swear it’s just been–”  Words scrabble over each other as nerves prickle.  “Sorry,” Mingi’s voice is soft and low as his thumbs work small circles into your hips, waiting for you to speak. He’s so sweet and you feel so stupid, so inadequate, you can feel your thoughts spiraling. Watching your brows knit together, Mingi leaves a little peck on your knee. “You still with me?”  You take a second to attempt to temporarily sober up, looking up at the ceiling. “I want to–I need you to stretch me a bit–it’s been a year…or more…since anything has been in…in me.” Your eyes fixed upwards, unable to look at him for fear you’ll disintegrate on the spot out of embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, defeated.  “It’s okay,” he pauses, bashful, “it’s actually kinda hot. You know. That I’m big…like that…for you.”  Tension in your chest turns to a giggle, your hands still tugging at your cheeks. “I’m just frustrated. I want to get fucked” you yell into the dark apartment, “and my FUCKING pussy won’t LET ME.”  Mingi laughs, a laugh that shakes his entire body. “Let me try again. If you want.”  Eyes squeezed shut you nod furiously. The bed dips as he leans back over you. Lips meeting your shoulder, his hand cups your pussy, heel of his palm grinding into your clit, middle finger working between your folds. A second finger joins in caressing you, exploring, waiting for your core to suck him in. Grinding down on him, your hips rock against his hand, mirroring his motions. Thighs shaking under him you gasp and moan as your walls flutter, heavy barrier finally relenting, a single digit pulled in. Your arousal spreading down your buttocks he slides ever more easily against you.  “See? You’re doing so well,” Mingi’s pace is steady and slow, finger crooking upwards against your wall, searching for the soft spot within your walls. As he passes over it you let out a small whimper, legs tensing and feet pressing against the mattress. He smiles at you and sighs contentedly, planting a kiss on your forehead, a second finger breaching your cunt.  “P-please,” boldly you reach for him, wrapping your hand around his still condomed cock, pumping him in time with his ministrations. His free hand wraps around yours, guiding it off him and onto the bed.  “You first.” His fingers intertwined with yours, pinning the hand down despite it being slick with lube. It’s a little cheesy, a little goofy, but sweet. Sweet of him to care. Sweet of him to focus like that. The word sweet floats in your mind like a hallucination as your eyelids flutter. Mingi’s face is so close to yours there is no way he missed it. Propping his thumb near your clit he rubs you in soft circles, stalling his fingers. Core fluttering you squirm, bucking upwards.

 You quickly stutter out his name, eyes locking with his, a warning. Heat and blood rushing south you could feel the pulsing need growing and growing inside of you.  He groans as your cunt clenches down around his fingers. Slick sounds echo in your brain as Mingi replaces his thumb with is palm for you to rut against. Movements become sloppy and needy as he speeds up, his eagerness overtaking him completely.  “You gonna cum?” He sounds assured, prideful, a little out of breath. Lips sealed tightly you let out a small affirmative “mhm” before you feel your eyelids flicker, eyes crossing, unable to tamp down the whimpers and sighs you’d previously muzzled and let die in your throat. Mingi slows as he feels you shudder, squeezing his hand with yours. Walls gripping and releasing against him he stills inside of you, softly circling the heel of his palm against you before withdrawing his fingers.  “How’s my girl?” His other hand slips from holding yours, pushing away from your body to admire his work.  “Real fucking good.” You crack open an eye, glancing at his still erect cock, subconsciously biting your lower lip.  “Eager…”  “Do you blame me?” Both of you laugh. “I don’t suppose I do.” Despite having worked up to three fingers you gasp as he pushes the tip of his cock into you, all concentration going into breathing and relaxing. Lips lightly grazing your neck, you can feel him murmuring to you but are unable to pick out any words. He guides the two of you together slowly, thumb working circles around your clit. The pressure from being so full, mixed with remnants of alcohol, made your head spin. Bottoming out the two of you groan in unison.  “I’m in.” He’s panting, a grunt escaping his throat.  “I fucking know.” You say through gritted teeth. The stretch is mind-blowing, worth the effort and wait. Reaching down you can feel how taut you are around his shaft as you aimlessly graze your fingertips along your clit.

“Give me a sec,” he closes his eyes and exhales. “Fuck you’re tight.”  Inhaling, he pulls his hips back slightly, shallowly thrusting against you, sending your mind blasting into a haze. He eyes trained on where you connect, he watches himself disappear inside of you, how your walls hug him so closely. It feels strange to be so appreciated. A small part of you curls up and hides in shame. The larger part thrives on how mesmerized the man is, how shamelessly he explores you. Core thrumming he continues grinding deeply into you, reveling in your gasps and moans. Newfound cockiness flooding his system, the switch flips back from messy needy boy to confident lover, as though the entire failed attempt had never happened. An arm wraps under your knee he presses you further into the bed, the new angle drags his cockhead against your walls deliciously, feeling even more full than before.  You beg -it feels appropriate- being at the mercy of the snap of his hips. His rhythm of short forceful strokes pins you to the bed and forces groans from you. Mingi buries his face in your neck, hot breath mixing with sweat, arms pinning you, making you feel so small in comparison. Tense and release, the throb of orgasms ripping down your spine almost painfully. Chest tight, unable to bob above the waves, your hands clamber at his back, gripping onto his sides, knees hooking onto his waist.

 “Fuck- you’re clenching- I’m going to cum.” His pace became more franetic, hips snapping into you, blood rushing to your head like a roaring train. If he has much more in him you aren’t sure you can take it, small pricks of blackness darting across your vision. With a groan he spills into the condom, your hips still rutting, walls pulsing around him. The sounds of post-sex panting and breathy swearing fill the air.

 “Thank you,” you mutter, sound muffled by his shoulder.  “No. Thank you.” He is collapsed slightly around you, holding you to him, your sweaty sticky bodies become fully enmeshed - peaceful and protected - together. All moments must come to an end, this one does as well with Mingi sliding from you gently as the blood redistributed throughout his body.  “You did so well.” He pats your lower stomach happily, before wobbling to the bathroom. A nice straight shot to there, you noted, just in case you needed to throw up. “Do you want me to help you or–” he yelled, the sound of running water cutting him off.  “No!” You hastily lift yourself from the sheets, wishing you could just roll over and go to bed. Hoisting yourself up your legs threaten to give out below you as you trundle to the bathroom after him.

A large glass of water and some ibuprofen sat waiting for you, Mingi already fully wrapped up in blankets, snoring gently.  “Could’ve left a shirt for pjs at least,” you thought wryly, popping open the pill bottle and chugging the water. It was your first mistake, you should’ve left then and there, hitching a cab home and sleeping in your own bed. Instead, you got into the sheets and curled yourself against his back, nose pressed to his spine, closing your eyes, just for a second you told yourself. At worst a couple hours.  “I’ll wake up early and leave.”

There was absolutely no reason you should’ve stayed.

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