#tired as fuck this week so didn't write

[whumblr]

Between dreams and reality

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

-

Twitching. Trembling. Fingers curling tighter and tighter into the covers. Turning. Tossing. Soft whimpers escaping from his lips as his body jerked and his breath hitched.

All sorts of little tells of fear that in his dream, Jay was keeping firmly at bay. Hiding them behind a poker face from the man advancing on him, who was slowly cornering him and actively pushing him against the wall.

Unfortunately, asleep and in the real world in bed, he had no control over his actions.

And while he may have fooled the man in his dreams, that same man lying next to him in bed had a front row seat to his misery and was hungrily taking in the scene.

Zayne, turned on his side with his arm propped under his head, narrowed his eyes in amusement as the sleeping Jay twitched like a dreaming cat.

And Jay couldn’t stop the man in his dream getting closer, couldn’t stop the hand on his throat now slowly tightening, its fingers cutting off his air as the smirking face was inching closer and closer while he couldn’t get away— couldn’t breathe!

His eyes flew open and that same smirk was just as close now that he was awake.

He shot back with a high pitched gasp. Almost coughed out that same breath when he realised he was in bed, that it was a dream.

An exasperated sigh punched out of his lungs as he let himself fall onto his back, hands over his face as he tried to calm down, push those treacherous tears of lingering fear and humiliation away, and ignore the soft chuckle next to him.

"No, no," his nightmare crooned. Fingers curled over his wrist and pulled a hand away from his face. "Don't hide it from me. We were just getting to the good part."

-

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror @susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime @freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion @afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8 @itsmyworld98 @whumpifi @painless-and-colourful

#whump #nightmare whump #hiwthi #hiwthi drabbles #tired as fuck this week so didn't write #have an oldie short drabble #my writing #totally forgot about whumptober when I scheduled this but oh well

[whispers-of-masser]

Just Tonight (II)

✧ Nebarra x human!LDB ✧ Angst to comfort; 2k+ words ✧ Brief & very mild suggestive content, light swearing ♫ "My Blood" - Echos, "Mistake" - NF, "Stubborn" - Riell ✒ @candydreamer122, you asked to be notified when this dropped so here ya go!

Nebarra opened his eyes to the golden light of dawn, your head resting on his chest, bare legs intertwined with his. Your body pressed against his, warm and comforting, and when he glanced down at your face, he'd never seen it more peaceful. He reached up, brushing your cheek with his thumb, and even in your sleep, you leaned into his touch.

Gods, you took his breath away. But even as he lay there, admiring you in the soft morning light, a single, unpleasant thought wormed its way to the front.

He didn't deserve you.

It made him pause, something turning sour in the pit of his stomach. No... Please, no...

He didn't want the moment to end. Didn't want the thoughts he knew would turn his happiness to ash. But for years they had whispered in his mind, been his constant companions, bitter and selfish lovers that left him with nothing in return but pain and cynicism. They would not let him go so easily, relinquish the control he has given them long ago.

All the more reason he couldn't, shouldn't have you.

Because, really, what could he offer you? He had nothing but his past, his bitterness, his selfish nature. Even last night had been spurred on by his own selfish desires, exacerbated further still by drink. He was nothing but thorns, rough and crude, the blood of hundreds on his hands – and he felt no guilt over them.

...Most of them.

You didn't deserve someone like that. You could do so much better than him.

Why did you want him, at all?

And as he lay there, hand cupping your face, his eyes drinking in every curve and contour – your own slowly fluttered open.

His breath caught. Sunlight danced across your irises, and he could see himself reflected in your gaze. For a few moments, you simply blinked at him, and he could see every minute shift in your expression. Emptiness, confusion, sudden realisation – and then you smiled.

Nebarra had seen many things in life. Many ugly things, things that he'd tried to forget, that haunted him until he drowned them in drink. The few beautiful things he'd seen, though... those, he remembered clearly, and often. Fought to carve them into every facet of his memory, to allow himself the slightest hope, to give himself the smallest of reasons to keep going. And the smile you gave him...

It was the most beautiful of them all.

There was life in your smile. Vast, vibrant, and beautiful, your face haloed in the golden light of morning, you looked... divine.

And then, you spoke, words low and husky from sleep, a laugh rumbling in your throat: "And you call me guar-face." Slowly, you raised a hand, gentle fingers brushing his cheeks, smile growing ever wider.

...He wanted you. Gods, how he wanted you. His heart ached with the thorns of longing, with the knowledge that he couldn't, shouldn't have you.

So, he turned away, pulled back from your touch. Forced an empty expression on his face, in his eyes. Grunted a simple, "Morning." And carefully, oh so carefully, pushed you off him.

"...Nebarra?"

Unwelcome. Outsider. All he was ever meant to be.

"What?" The word was heavy on his tongue, deadened in tone as he sat up, got off the bet, and set to collecting his clothes from the floor.

"Nebarra... What's wrong?"

Everything. "Nothing." He fumbled with his trousers, nearly falling as he tugged them on, still scanning the floor for his shirt. Anything to avoid meeting your eyes.

"Bullshit." Sheets rustled as you leaned forward, and he could practically hear your brows furrow at him. "Is it... because of last night?"

"No." Yes.

"I think it is. And I think we should talk about it – about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," he grunted, still pacing the floor, eyes roving everywhere but the bed. Where was his damn shirt?

"Oh, I think we have a lot to talk about."

He didn't answer, and in the silence, fabric rustled some more. Then, your voice, "...Looking for this?"

Finally, slowly, Nebarra looked at you. You were sitting upright on the bed, and in one hand you held up his shirt, winkled and dusty from the floor.

And you... were still very much naked. Your chest was on blatant display, the blankets pooled low around your hips, deep purple teethmarks scattered over your skin – his doing. Nebarra swallowed, averting his gaze back to the tunic. 

Wordlessly, he stalked over, reaching out for it – only for you to snap your hand back, away from him. He sighed. "What are you doing?"

You didn't answer, though he could feel your gaze burning into him. Reluctantly, he returned it – and the storm in your eyes sent a shock down his spine.

Oh...

Oh, no.

Before he could even begin to pick apart what he saw in there, you raised your arms, slid them through the holes of the shirt, and pulled it down over your head.

You... were wearing his shirt.

Still holding his gaze, there was something like a challenge in your eyes. Nebarra grit his teeth and, for once in his life, held his tongue, unsure if he could win this one.

The thought... unsettled him. 

But... maybe not as much as it should have.

"Nebarra."

No. No, no no no. You couldn't do that to him – say his name in that tone, in that way. 

"What?" he snapped, harsher than intended.

Maybe he should have just been born mute.

"We need to talk about this."

"No, we don't."

"Why not?"

"Because... it was a mistake." He looked away, unable to meet your gaze, tearing a hand through his hair. Coward, coward, coward. "That's all there is – was – to it. We were drunk, and tired, and maybe... just maybe... a little lonely. So we made a bad decision – one we should just forget about, move on from. Because ultimately... it meant nothing. Not a damn thing."

It felt like an eternity passed before you answered, and when you did, your voice was heavy, rasping with emotion. "...If that's how you really feel, then–"

You choked. Nebarra could practically hear the words catch in your throat, dying before they could pass your lips. Instead, a low, bitter laugh rose suddenly in their place; the sound scraped his wounded heart raw. "Gods damn you, Nebarra. You're... really selfish, you know that?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "I know."

But you weren't done. Because as you rose from the bed, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet, you continued, "You're also... a really shit liar."

And then you were standing before him, your hand on his chin, turning his face towards you, your gaze searching his. He couldn't avoid your eyes this time, couldn't look away from the storm raging within them: hurt, anger, confusion.

Because of him. Him, and his stupid decisions, and his even stupider words.

Yet, even as he stared, he could see something else in them, too.

Affection. Care. Passion. And... lo–

Why? Why him? Of all the people on Nirn you could want, how could you want the mess that was him?

"I don't know," you said softly, and Nebarra realised with horror that he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. "Because, gods, you really are a mess, aren't you? You're bitter, cynical, surly, arrogant, selfish, flawed to the moons and back, but..." Your hand shifted, brushing upwards to cradle his cheek, and the Altmer found himself holding his breath, afraid of what you'd say next, needing to hear what you'd say next.

Only, you didn't say anything. Instead, you simply leaned in, pulled him close – and kissed him. Before he even knew what he was doing, Nebarra found himself returning it, pulling you in closer, hands falling to your waist –

Wait.

No.

Stop.

What was he doing?

Breathless, he pulled away, nearly stumbling over his own feet. His mind spun; he couldn't seem to form a single coherent though. "What – what was that?"

Your eyes seemed to stare right down to his soul, burning with intensity, filled with both pain and longing. Yet a faint, bittersweet smile ghosted across your face as you answered, "Nothing, apparently."

...Damn you.

Before he could change his mind, think himself out of it, Nebarra caught your arm and tugged you sharply back towards him, crashing his lips back against yours. You stumbled from the initial force of it, but he followed your motion, keeping your lips on his.

After a moment, your arms slipped around his neck, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other tickling his nape. He grunted into the kiss, pulling you back towards the bed; you didn't resist, and readily fell back on it.

Nebarra fell with you, straddling your prone form, brushing his lips from your mouth to your jaw, nipping gently as he went. A soft gasp escaped you; his hands slid down, tugging your shirt – his shirt – gradually upward, pulling it off of you. 

And immediately he sat up, got off the bed, and tugged it over his own head. Without a word, he walked away to the other side of the room, leaving you naked and stunned on the bed.

"...Nebarra!"

"Like you said," he muttered, stalking across the room and far from you, "I'm selfish."

He could hear a frustrated breath hissing through your teeth. "Damn you! Why can't you just admit what you feel, what you want? What are you so afraid of?"

The elf froze.

You could see right through him, couldn't you?

"You don't... even know me," he managed at last, keeping his back towards you. "You don't even know my name, my real name."

"I don't need a name to know you, though. Names aren't what define us – we define them. It doesn't matter to me whether you're Nebarra or... or Nico, or something else entirely. Because you're still, and always will be you, regardless of what name you answer to."

Gods, why did you have to be so damn stubborn?

"Pot, kettle, black," you sniffed, and Nebarra realised that yet again, he'd spoken aloud. "And who knows, maybe I picked some of it up from you in the first place."

Sighing heavily, Nebarra leaned forwards and let his forehead thunk against the wall. He stayed like that for a long moment, counting his breaths, trying to collect his thoughts.

"I'm not... suited for a relationship," he slowly began. "I wouldn't be... you have better options than me. People who could give you what you want far better than I could."

At that, you actually laughed, and he turned to look at you despite himself. There was no smile on your face, only pain and mockery; the sight drove thorns through his chest. "Who, then, O wise one, most knowledgeable of relationships? Who on Nirn can give me what I want, when what I want – is you."

He shook his head. "Well... you shouldn't. I can give you nothing."

"You aren't nothing," you said softly. "Your heart isn't nothing. Don't you get that yet, Nebs?"

"My... heart," he echoed, staring blankly at you. "My heart."

Shifting, you rose from the bed, wrapping a blanket around yourself as you approached. "Yeah, your heart. This thing–" you placed a hand over his chest "–that's beating right here, going at a million miles a second." Your eyes locked with his once more, and somehow, even before you spoke, he knew. He knew.

"I love you, you miserable bastard. And I want you, not for anything you can offer me, but for who you are. There's no doubt in my mind about that. Now, the only question left is... how do you feel? What do you want?"

He couldn't hide from it any longer. The truth was on his tongue, escaping his lips before he even had to think about it. "You. I just... gods damn it, I just want you," he rasped. "But..."

You placed a gentle finger against his mouth. "Shh," you murmured. "No buts."

Slowly, Nebarra raised a hand, brought it up to yours, and pulled it away from his lips, instead lacing his fingers with yours. "No, listen. I... this... is going to be complicated, if we really do this. And... you're probably going to get hurt and disappointed because of me. There's a lot you don't know–"

"And you can tell me when you're ready," you soothed, brushing your thumb across the back of his hand. "We'll cross all those bridges when we get to them. And yes, before you protest any further," you added, when his mouth opened to do just that, "I'm aware of the emotional risks. But that's part of every relationship, Nebarra, and you know that. So, again, when they do inevitably arrive, we'll cross those bridges together."

...He really didn't deserve you. Didn't understand how or why you wanted him, of all people. But as you rested your forehead against his, breaths mingling, eyes full of nothing but each other – Nebarra realised he didn't care, anymore.

The voices in his head, all the doubts and fears – they still hissed their poison, and he knew it would be a long, long time before they stopped. But a new voice had joined the mix, soft but confident, telling him that maybe, just maybe, life wasn't about "deserving" things, but appreciating them. That maybe, amid the bleak desert of his past, he could still find a lone rose of happiness.

And that voice... sounded an awful lot like yours.

#nebarra #nebarra skyrim #skyrim nebarra #whisper writes #finally. its done. #i feel like this ended up so out of character and im so so sorry about that but man i'm tired. i ran out of steam weeks ago. #i didn't even edit this bruh #i just wanted to FINISH it #sigh. anyway #i hope yall are listening to the songs i list on the fics cause dAMN theyre good and the entire reason these shity little scribbles exist #this one took. SO MANY SONGS to keep me going.. to give me the ideas and motivation to finish #the three i listed were just the biggest contributors #but there were LOTS more believe me lol #i go to sleep now. it is 11am and my sleep schedule is FUCKED mate #woke up at like 6pm yesterday evening #my whole system's wrecked #im rambling again lol gnight gnight i hope yall have a good one

[chenziee]

Me: *is tired, overwhelmed, with like 10 things I need to write, including 5 lawlus*

Also me: I want to write some lawlu...

#i just have no energy this week 😭 #or you know.. this year #so tired #so very tired #i need a three month long (at least) paid vacation #also wish shit would stop happening #the expenses keep piling up.. #no i still haven't taken my laptop for repair and no i still don't have a new chair #i wish my workplace didn't move i have to spend so much more on gas than i paid for my yearly transport pass... #but it's a fucking murder going *there* by public transport it takes an hour by bus-bus-train while it's 15-20 miutes by car.... #i seriously need the fucking chair tho my back is killing me... #anyway #somebody pay me to write lawlu? ahaha #jk #unless? #katie thinks she's relevant #delete later

[morkofday]

sigh these days it really is just like: i want to create but unfortunately i have the eepy little creature disease

#every day i wake up and i'm tired #doing the internship is rough my guys #it's been a month and wow it sure has been a lot #somehow all this tiredness is really fucking with my mind tho #i feel so useless when i manage to do nothing #no writing no edits #just daydreaming about the things i could make #if i had more days in my week #and i didn't waste most of my free hours just #watching dramas and staring at the boys #that being said: time for sleep

[da-proti-toku-grem]

feeling like a total asshole today 👍

#an aunt's mom passed away yesterday night #i didn't really know her that much just spoke to her a few times for the typical merry christmas & happy new year you know #so when my mom told me i felt bad for my aunt bc i knew they were really close but i don't feel SAD #but my parents seemed to be like so shocked and sad and my little brother even started crying #and i felt absolutely nothing #idek what my mom saw in my face but she went like 'don't you feel anything?' and like wtf am i supposed to feel #like. i'm sorry for my aunt and everything but i just????? #that already made me feel like an absolute asshole but now we have to go there (like 2hours away by car) #and because i am an adult now i *have* to go to the funeral home (?) today and to the funeral tomorrow #and i REALLY don't want to and thought it's making me so fucking anxious bc i haven't been there since my grandma passed away 2 years ago #i really don't want that feeling that i felt back then to come back #not right now #not when i've been starting to feel a bit better this past week #but i'm already failing at that because they started to come back the moment i was told i have to go #and i feel like a fucking asshole because my aunt's mom literally passed away and she (and her whole family) must be heartbroken right now #and all i can think about is that i'm anxious #i'm anxious to go back there. i'm anxious just thinking that i'll have to express my condolences to people that i don't even know #i'm anxious because i'll have to TALK to people and at least try to look a bit SAD but i can't just fake it #bc if i don't look sad my brain tells me that i'm an asshole that doesn't have feelings like apparently everyone around me has #but if i fake it my brain tells me that i'm an asshole bc why tf do i have to fake my fucking personality #why can't i just express my fucking feelings like normal people do and the only thing that i know how to do is fucking complain #like. i know i rant a lot here but it's literally the only place where i talk about my feelings #i NEVER talk about my feelings with anyone because idk HOW to do it #i have like a million things in my mind that i want to tell my mom or my therapy for example but when i finally convince myself to do it #i just CAN'T. the thoughts won't leave my mouth because i don't know how to phrase them properly #so nothing ever leaves my mind unless i make a post here bc apparently writing my thoughts in english (my 2nd language) #is easier than talking in spanish #and at least if i write them here they don't just stay bottled up in my mind #but i'm too tired of myself and my stupid brain that tells me that i do everything wrong :/ #i'm gonna shut up now bc i once again reached the tag limit

[pegasusdrawnchariots]

the eternal question: is scheduling w friends as an adult That Hard or am I just bad at it

#4 different people have left me on read today; 1 cancelled our plans 4 hours before we were due to meet #I've been sitting home alone for 2 days going insane. looking forward to One (1) coffee date & that fell through #idk why I'm taking it so hard this time I'm usually fine!! but I find myself wishing I didn't have the day off I wish I did have work :( #like it's tiring yeah but it beats sitting here not knowing what to do w myself #& I'm working all weekend & only leaving the house to see the doctor. oh joy #I've been productive ironing writing fixing the car. that's not the problem #I had 4 social plans this month. that's it #that's like seeing each friend once a month!! I can't keep this up!! #is this the norm for adulthood? :( #& on one level I don't want to bother people or be clingy #but on another level I'm baffled that they don't get lonely too #the news has not shut up abt the Loneliness Epidemic since 2021 #but if it's true why do so many people take so long to reply when I reach out? if they reply at all #I'm not going anywhere w this. idk #just one of those days #everything so fuck everybody suck :( #boomers got it right w the whole showing up unannounced at people's houses for a social call with a pound cake #now I have to go through 5 layers of bureaucratic bullshit to see a friend #assuming they don't cancel the day of ofc (((((: #I just wanna be like hello knock knock I am here. tell me abt yr life today & listen to mine & eat this cake #& the worst is when people are like 'I'm cancelling bc I'm tired xx' #OK A) u knew we had these plans for two weeks #but B) I'm tired too! I still love u ur still my friend! let us be tired together! #'I won't be social today I'm tired' my love we could watch movies in silence we could knit we could ball yr socks. idc #'I have to do the big shop today sorry' so do I!!! let us do the groceries together!!! #every time I've pushed someone to come out when they felt depressed or to let me accompany them when they were doing chores #they were like u know what I'm so glad u did this. thank u. this is way better than how I had planned this night to go #& I'm like any time!! I love u!! #& then it just happens all over again next time oh sorry I'm cancelling I'm busy I'm tired #like did u forget what a nice time we had last time? what changed? :(

[toasteaa]

I'm so disconnected from everything today, all I wanna do is go home and draw something idk

#toast talks #have had a ton of stuff on my mind all week and it's all coming to a head today #not to mention some really shitty stuff happened at work and I've been slammed with trying to fix that #I didn't take my meds today and I'm exhausted #I wanna write create something but I'm stuck at my desk and can't even draw in here because of how they forced us to set our stations up #and I have to be around family for the entirety of this weekend and I'm just so tired. I don't want to deal with it. #I love my family and my in laws but fuck. It's like I'm a teenager again and have to mask every single behavior of mine to avoid conflict #I wanna go home and take a nap and cuddle my cat and that's it

[ithinkhemeows]

.

#Results or more like the key for an exam I've waited for 2 weeks came out and well #I'm slightly impressed by the fact that i could predict how may things i was gonna get wrong so precisely #On the downside though it means i score less #And now every one is calling each other asking how much they scored and I'm pretending like i didn't check and I'll only check once the #Final key comes out #I wish I wasn't consumed by my anxiety when i was writing the test and honestly this level of anxiety is new for me #How is it that i become worser at handling my emotional state as i get older #I did get qualified for the next exam though but honestly i don't see how I can improve ten folds in that exam because that's what I'm look #At to get into a decent program in a decent college #Any way this has been a rant #I'll see ya later or not because i don't what to do atm or how I'll even bounce back I'm j so fucking tired #donut speeches*

[noxtivagus]

i shld sleep oh my god

#🌙.rambles #i am somehow not rlly sleepy despite barely having sleep but my head does ache slightly. but just a few more stuff left in this week n #i'll properly rest for a bit ! bcs next week even though we're gna have a break ofc there's like.. prom n then that vacation right after T_ #gna be fun but i'm. definitely gna be rlly tired. n.. nah i need to stop overthinking abt sm stuff #just. anxious that i might end up being too shy. usually in social events like that i realize i #end up pushing myself a bit too much n then it ends w me just putting on a strong facade #i'm worried too i think bcs two of my friends haven't.. reconciled yet? so. yeah it is possible i may have to deal w some stuff during prom #fuck. i'm just. worried abt a lot of things in general. but i'm mostly overthinking it. everything. #sigh in general i'm being too harsh on myself again. wtf maybe it's the sleep-deprivation or smth bcs ik i'll manage it all #i believe in myself n know i'm capable but. it's just.. overwhelming rn i think. n it. hurts bcs it's like before in a way..? n like my wol #i wonder. what we'd all do if we were hypothetically given the chance to be able to do whatever we wanted in a day n have whatever we want #without changing the reality we have now or yeah no consequences at all. just a lil day in an alternate world we could control #if you were to choose for yourself n only for yourself what would you do? #sob ig i relate w rinoa too bcs of that strong facade part. i wrote that for my wol too #but like even w all that in the end uh. every time i read these sort of stuff it comforts me deep down #bcs i remember back then when i rlly just had my family #that.. loneliness. i write abt it a lot huh. not that i'm exactly seeking for something. maybe before bcs i didn't talk w my friends anymor #but now i suppose it's just something painfully constant. but not really too #i can't.. put it into words rn n i'm low on sleep. but i rmb just daydreaming to myself back then of my wol's development though #from heavensward.. sorta hiding herself n having to be strong for others. though she so desperately just wants to let her guard down #n be free yk. a break from all her responsibilities n rest.. she's young after all. but while i do relate with that it's still #yk particularly w the context of my wol being yeah the warrior of light in ffxiv. but. i rmb writing of how then that was being strong for #her. n.. yeah she was healing from stuff then. that's hw. but in stormblood ooh i wrote here that she put her emotions to the side #bottled them. became more serious n i tied that w being a samurai main back in stb w duty stuff help this connects well but it's funny #hesitant in heavensward to trying to do things more on her own in stormblood to.. accepting it all in shadowbringers #shy/quiet was more in hw while being serious/calm was in stb. raghhh i rmb my notes well in 2021 but i'm so afraid to look at like #the stuff i wrote last year 💀 but. oh my this is embarrassing but i do like how i even just dump my thoughts. it's bittersweetly beautiful #maybe i'm trying to accept everything at once or yk putting too much pressure on myself to improve holistically. #like.. i want to write before i grow older than my fav charas yk? n then just think of lots of stuff too n. #be productive. study. n idk just more more more in general but i could be less harsh on myself. yeah

[stormxpadme]

Also on the topic of defying stereotypes with my writing ... I was thinking about cutting the whole dancing thing while updating Weathered I because that’s also coming a lot from a projection place. Back in early 2000s, I still remembered enough of my years in dancing school to use that knowledge properly, and I never stopped to love dancing. But I’ve been pondering a few days now if a supposedly soft hobby like that wouldn’t feed that annoying “lol gaaay douchebag” shit that Scott gets a lot in fandom.

You know what?

I refuse.

Fuck your biases. Fuck your bigoted stereotype bullshit.

Everyone who at least ever followed a season of Dancing with the Stars knows that Standard and Latin dancing is first and foremost stamina paired with a lot of focus, posture training and coordination. And guess what someone who needs a lot of control over his body because he can fuck up the whole city around him if he loses his damn glasses, needs first and foremost. Also fuck it if in 2022, we still condemn men for actually being emotional human beings who can’t connect with song and rhythm without them being pussified immediately. Dancing isn’t LEL GEEIIIH (and just for the record, all my characters are at least bi by default unless stated otherwise; I’d just really like us to stop linking sexuality to any kind of personality trait or other preferences in life ktxhbye), it’s hard work.

And if I needed one more excuse not to cut what is probably the only really romantic and for a while good thing in Scott’s new relationship after things didn’t work out with Jean, this year’s German Dancing with the Stars seasons gave me the perfect inspiration for a highly athletic kind of partner dancing from someone physically so fucking ripped, he breaks that damn floor.

(I just need these two to win btw)

Yeah, well you do a routine like that in a week, then come back to me and talk about LEL DANCING SO GEEH.

#x men #everything after x2 didn't happen sue me #x men original timeline movies #writing #this week in stereotypes i'm so fucking tired of #musing while watching trash tv before going back to editing and proofreading #and guess what scenes won't go #no but when did this society go from #simping over footloose kevin bacon and travolta #to lel geeeeh #it’s beyond me

[fridayyy-13th]

^ live footage of me rn

#friday chats #tw vent #not like a super terrible vent or anything i'm just. tired. and mad at myself. #so like a couple weeks ago i was given an assignment for my british lit class right? #to write a research essay based on one of the texts we've studied this unit. two weeks to do it. easy peasy. sure. #i figure that's plenty of time and leave it to work on my other homework (bc there's always other homework i'm an honors student) #oh wow lookie there it's due this weekend! great! so i start work on it #and then i can't find any research to bolster the question i'd formulated. it would have just been my own analysis #and we're required to have four sources. so that's that out the window. #the weekend passes and i'm officially in ''late assignment'' territory #and it's the last week before spring break so i'm swamped w/other work and midterm tests and everything #so yesterday my friend and i call to work on ours together (we always proofread each other's stuff/give each other pointers and whatnot) #and i'm just lost on what my essay should be about. any sort of question i could explore. #she has something of an idea for hers but not much. so neither of us get ours done #the assignment fully closes tonight #so we try again. i manage a half-hearted intro paragraph with zero direction and one source #and then i just hit a wall. the sources i'm looking at don't give me any new insights or ideas and i've got nothing #with two hours to the deadline. so i'm thoroughly fucked #i keep trying and just. yeah no not a thing. and if you notice the timestamp on this post it's past 12am #guess who didn't finish his essay 🙃 #this is the fucking SECOND TIME THIS HAS HAPPENED. what the FUCK #fanTASTIC start to my spring break y'all. and the only way i can communicate the specific feeling i'm feeling is through a homestuck gif. #can i just sink into the earth. that'd be great #at least now that it's over i don't have to worry about it anymore. i mean there's the guilt obviously but i don't have to *worry* #God. my mom's gonna be pissed #if i follow this train of thought any further it's gonna fall down a spiral of responsibility and college and career stuff #and i don't want to deal with that right now #so i'm just gonna stop talking. and either go read an angsty fic and cry for catharsis or just go to sleep. we'll see #i hate getting all personal on the internet but i'd rather yell to the void than bottle it up so. here we are

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Hello! Could you please write a stubborn, jealous hc for Miguel o'hara? Thank you!!

I had the brainworms, so I hope this is what you were looking for! Thanks for the ask <3

Jealous!Miguel O'Hara Headcanons

(AO3 Mirror), Main Masterlist

pairing: jealous!Miguel O'Hara x reader

summary: stubborn HCs for jealous!Miguel O'Hara. 

a/n: this was meant to be a drabble and i basically wrote a full fic. i have zero self control lmfao

warnings: smut (fingering, f receiving oral, slight brat taming, etc) right at the very end, 18+ from then onwards, the rest is more pg-13

wc: 3.5k ish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Long story short: he's a stubborn little shit.

Pig-headed as fuck and it shows up in little things. 

Let's say you first met as coworkers, and you were a lab technician at Alchemax. 

Think: unstoppable force meets immovable object. He likes his labs just so, with very specific equipment in a very specific configuration. 

It drives you crazy, regularly having tiffs outside the labs; much to the chagrin of your coworkers. 

"Jesus." Your coworker mutters, wincing at the seemingly heated argument by the water cooler. 

"Ignore it, Maeve." Another coworker rolls their eyes, nudging Mave with a snort. "They're at it again . S'pose they'll tire each other out by the end of the day."

Not that they were wrong. But this time, it wasn't your fault: dealing with O'Hara's bullshit had really taken it's toll. He was insufferable, prone to nitpicking and just plain mean. You could hardly be blamed if you gave him some of your own choice words. 

"My notes were basically paint-by-fucking-numbers!  How could you mess up a simple distillation? When I specify precision glassware , you don't think that's fucking important?" 

"Your notes ," You draw air quotes pointedly at him. "-are illegible, you fucking cretin! Maybe if you didn't write like a goddamn pre-schooler-"

"- preschooler? Oh , fuck you!" 

"Get your nose out of that highschool Chem textbook, O'Hara, this is a fucking job."

"Yeah? Stop using it to wipe your ass and you might learn a thing or two."

"Oh , so that's what we're doing?" You laugh in his face, so angry your hand curls into tight fists. You get close, staring him down as you look upwards through your lashes. His own face is contorted into a grimace; bushy eyebrows furrowed into deep shadows around his eyes. You can feel his steady breathing before he speaks, low and rumbling. 

"I could do this all day, princesa. " 

You scoff, ignoring the way his words weaken your knees. The one time you asked for a break during a long lab and he won't stop calling you a spoilt princess. His laughter then stings in your ears now, the ghost of a smirk on his face as you storm off. Miguel O'Hara: smug bastard. He would be the death of you, you're sure. 

~~~

You spend many a late night with him, unwittingly, and find out he's more than a stubborn little shit. 

You find out he's funny, and shares the same anti-Alchemax tendencies you do: both preyed upon by the company immediately after graduation, young and naive. 

He's kind, even though he'd never admit it, often finishing up the lab notes and doing more than his fair share of work so you can go home at a reasonable time. 

You both still butt heads, but it turns into a tentative friendship - coffees in the morning hidden as blaise convenience, covering for each other at work, and defending the other when office gossip goes too far. 

That's why when he comes back to work after a week-long stint away - something about a blow up with the boss, an issue described as 'miscommunication, promptly smoothed over' by anyone official - you notice… something's different about him. 

You first noticed something was off when he walked in without a snide remark. You left a mug overnight at the counter, something that would usually draw a sarcastic comment at the least , but he gives you… nothing. Blank, glassy eyes as he opens up his workstation - clicking away at the keys without so much as a glance.

"O'Hara?" You call, but he doesn't even look up. You walk to his workstation and knock at the desk. He jumps. God, he looks worse for the wear. Heavy bags under his eyes and a bruise blossoming under his collar. 

"You okay?" 

He rubs his temples, eyes flitting up at you.  "Yeah, just…. just a long week, s'all." 

You put a hand on his shoulder, and you swear he leans into your touch. "We can reschedule, tonight. The calculations can wait, Miguel."

He gives you a weak smile, but a smile nevertheless. "S'okay. Need to make sure you don't fuck it up."

"Don't push your luck, O'Hara."

~~~

As you get closer, you notice just how stubborn he is to admit the growing tension between you two. 

Late nights at the lab turn into takeout at your place, morning coffee turns into a pleasant 20 minutes on the rooftop away from the hustle and bustle - just you and Miguel, talking and joking with a cup of shitty coffee in hand. 

Wholly, he seems more assertive at work, not as quick to roll over. 

It's hot, you have to admit; watching him fight with someone else other than you. 

You're at work drinks with the other technicians and engineers, nursing a watery beer when another colleague makes small talk with you at the bar.

You’ve never been that close to him, and the conversation is amicable enough, but you’re almost bowled over when you see Miguel, in the corner, staring straight at you with a stormy look.

You suppose it's a little pathetic, getting all dressed up for a casual drink. Lips shiny with gloss and gently powdered with makeup, you feel a little out of place. For all your talk at work, actually being here was another thing. Suddenly, your blouse is too tight and your skirt too short. With a manicured finger, you trace the lip of your glass filled with watery beer. You sigh. You don't want to admit it, but you were only here because of Miguel. He said he would come, and now you're sitting on a barstool counting the chips in your glass. 

It was probably for the best. You sink into the absentminded chatter of your colleagues around you, until there's a tap at your shoulder. 

"Is someone-" He clears his throat; a tall man dressed in a sharp suit nodding gracefully towards the empty chair. "-is this seat taken?" 

You shake your head, grateful for the company. He's handsome, sharp features curving into a wry grin as he calls for a drink. 

"...and something other than shitty beer for the pretty girl, too." It makes you laugh, light and lilting in the bustle of the bar. 

He stretches out his hand, and you take it. 

"Eddie Crouch. I work in marketing."

Eddie…. as in… head of the most profitable division of Alchemax? Your eyes widen involuntarily and you try to clamp down your immediate shock, somewhat unsuccessfully. He narrows his eyes as you tumble over your words. 

"Y-Yeah, same! I mean, not same , I just work in the l-labs and I thought it was just for us guys, working behind the curtain, y'know? Not that we're not thrilled to have you here, because we a-are." You spill out, wincing. "....Is this about the performance reviews? Because I know output was down this quarter but our projections are-"

"I'm not here to talk about work." He chuckles. You squint, not convinced. As if to alleviate your concerns, he loosens his tie and undoes his top buttons with a flourish. 

"Can I tell you a secret?" He leans in, and the air becomes thick with expensive perfume. He twirls the signet ring on his finger, a ring probably worth more than your monthly paycheck. 

"Your boss invited me," Discreetly, he stretches a finger at your boss; a man ruddy cheeked and red-faced with alcohol. "Guess he thought it would boost morale. He's a fucking idiot if he thinks having me, the one guy that could fire your entire department without recourse, exchange empty platitudes would boost morale. But, I digress. So here I am, dragging my feet to this bar, thinking I'm gonna get in, read the lines and get out. But then, " He pauses with dramatic effect. "I see the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes on, just sitting by the bar. Like everyone isn't already falling over themselves to talk to you."

The irony is palpable. It's sickly sweet, and a line that wouldn't usually work on you. But usually, you weren't pining over a man so prickly and stubborn, you shouldn't have feelings for. Here you were, bright cocktail in front of you and a moderately attractive man by your side. He wasn't quite Miguel, but in the words of one of the greatest thinkers of the past age: country girls make do. 

And so you make lazy conversation with the man. So lost in a tipsy haze, you barely notice Miguel walk in; dark jacket on his shoulders and deliciously loose slacks. You're drawn to him, his eyes seemingly searching the room, and you sigh into your drink. Technically, he looks like shit: eyes dark-rimmed and sunken, a cut at his brow. You think he is gorgeous, eyes tracing the slope of his nose and plush lips. Like he can sense it, he glances over in your direction and you look away hastily. He's watching , you can feel its burn as you turn, pretending to listen to the man besides you. A little cruelly, you lean into him, not breaking eye contact and curling a hand around his arm to laugh at a stupid joke. Eddie laughs with you, oblivious, as you glance behind him. 

Miguel stands with a drink thrust into his hands, looking straight through him, eyes low and gazing at you. 

~~~

He insists on walking you home, a steady hand on the small of your back as you stumble through the streets of Nueva York.

You make light conversation, tipsy and giggly from the alcohol. Miguel seems a little more put together, but his chest still creaks with rumbling laughter.

He definitely walks on the side of the pavement nearest the street, because he thinks it keeps you safer. 

He walks you up the stairs and by the door of your apartment, like a gentleman. You watch him get nervous suddenly, and he hesitates, stubbornly digging in his heels and pausing you from opening the door and coming in. 

You don't want it to end, opting to take the walk up the stairs as opposed to the lift. It's one of your more questionable decisions as you stumble up the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. Miguel is quick to catch you even though he was just as drunk. Arm around your waist, he leaves searing touches to your hip. You giggle despite yourself, and he can't help but smile at your clumsiness. 

"If you break your legs I won't carry you, princesa ." A lie and you both know it. He would carry you to the ends of the earth like a blushing bride, if you asked him. 

You both stagger to up the stairs and through the corridor until you reach your front door. You rummage around your bag for your keycard, it's contents click-clacking in the quiet of the hallway. Miguel watches, quieter than he was in the journey. If you looked up now, you would see something else behind his eyes - a storm of apprehension and tension. 

You find your keycard, and look up to find Miguel placing a careful palm on the door. He's surprisingly still, eyes on your lips as he steps closer. You look everywhere but to meet his eyes, tracing the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his exposed forearm, and the tempting juncture of his strong jaw. You watch it tense, as he brings a gentle hand to your chin. His thumb swipes over the fat of your lip. 

"Got somethin' right… there." He mumbles, before tucking his hand away. You can barely breathe. Without thinking you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together like a gentle hug. You bring his hand to your waist, and he squeezes, ever so gently. Your hand drops and he moves his slowly, knuckles dragging along the smooth silk of your blouse, and then sending shivers when he reaches your bare neck. 

He has to bite down the plethora of things running through his head - his drunken brain threatening to spill all his thoughts. You are so beautiful and soft it makes him short-circuit, desperate to pull you close. Instead, you do: hand inching up his chest and laying to rest on his shoulders. 

He kisses you, finally ; a little messy and impossibly soft. Like his lips on yours would shatter you both. You deepen the kiss and wrap his arm tighter around you, angling your chin to drink up even more of you. You both come up for air, panting in the heat of one another. Miguel's eyes are full of lust and blown out. 

"Do…do you want to come in?" You whisper. 

Something catches in his throat and his expression changes, like he just woke up from a dream. Do you just want to sleep with him? He's not built for one night stands, can't do just sex, especially if it's you. No matter how much he wants to, he can't, he won't, "....I shouldn't."

The disappointment on your face is palpable. You want to ask why - after he kissed you like that - why doesn't he want you? Instead you nod dejectedly. He gives you a chaste kiss on the forehead, lingering, and a shaky smile. 

You open your door with a buzz, and slam it in his face. 

~~~

It takes Miguel some time to properly put a name to what you two have: not knowing if the kiss was a drunken mistake, animal attraction or something more. 

He's not a grand gestures kind of person, he believes in action rather than words. 

Which is why it takes so long for him to admit just how in love with you he is. 

He steals glances at you all the time at the office, and tries to anticipate  all your needs. 

When you stretch and yawn in the morning, he happens to pass by your favourite coffee place and happens to buy one too many cups of your go-to order. 

So imagine his shock when he arrives from his lunch break, churros and coffee in hand, and there's one of the top brass from the night at the bar perched on your desk - 2 polystyrene cupfuls of something half drunk on the desk. 

He's never been insecure, but he can't help but feel possessive, something tense and tight growing at the base of his stomach. 

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" You step into the equipment cupboard, Miguel close behind you. You rub your temples, anticipating an argument. "O'Hara, if this is about my calibration tests this morning, I swear to God -" 

"No, no , nothing like that." He's quick to say. "They were… okay." He strains. 

You raise an eyebrow. Okay? Since when did Miguel pass up an opportunity for a mindless fight? Your mind races with his actions of the past few days. He has been different since the night at the bar, a little nicer, sure, but nothing this out of the ordinary. 

"That guy you were talking to. I saw him at the bar, and now here. Who is he?" 

Your eyebrows shoot up. "You do not have the right to ask me th-" 

"Are you fucking him?" A pause, and you study his expression, deducing that he is completely fucking serious . 

"Are you insane? You definitely don't have the right to ask me that." You make for the door, and he steps in front of it, blocking it with his body. 

"I need to know. Tell me and then I'll leave you alone, I promise." His voice is low and thick with something. 

You step closer and he wraps his hands around your waist absentmindedly. The pressure feels good, and makes your brain fog up. 

He repeats himself, softer. "Are you fucking him?" 

You look at him for a moment, before shaking your head. His facial expression  is steady, just as unreadable. 

"Do you want to?" 

You hesitate, wanting to be cruel and say yes, just to see his reaction. Perceptive, he sees your hesitance and says something that almost knocks you over. 

"I could fuck you better than he ever could," He kneads your thigh now, lips close to the shell of your ear in the tight space of the cupboard. " Princesa , look at me." 

You look at him, almost whimpering and putty in his hands. He's like a siren and you are lost in the pull of his gaze. It may be the proximity, but you swear you see a tinge of red in his eyes, like deep pools of lust. 

"Will you let me fuck you?" He pulls you closer so the meat of his thigh presses against your clothed cunt. Your stretchy pencil skirt rides up suggestively, and you rock your clit against him, searching for sweet pressure. You nod. 

Miguel titters softly, a hand on your chin pulling your lips to his. You moan into his kiss, body aching. It's hot and heavy like the kiss outside your door, but he swirls his tongue around yours and expertly nips at your lower lip. He guides your hips to rock against his thigh, tensing to make sure it's corded muscle hits the right places. He wants to break you apart, leave you so cock-drunk, you wouldn't think of even glancing at another man. 

You separate and he dips a hand under your skirt. He pulls it up and places a big palm at your pussy, with a well timed slap. You bite into his neck with the pressure. You definitely don't expect it when he rips open your stockings like they were paper. 

"Fuck, Miguel." 

"It's okay, baby, I'll get you new ones." Your eyes roll back as he slips aside the gusset to run a finger through your lower lips. Shamelessly, he slips a finger in, then two, basking in the wet squelch of your heat. You claw at his forearm, as he curls them into that sweet spot. 

You press your forehead to his shoulder, chasing his fingers with your hips. His sharp eyes watch every movement, every stutter and start that his fingers pull from you. He's practical, a man of action, and he is desperate to show you how much he cares. 

"I've thought about you… about this." He hisses as you cover your mouth to dampen your moans. 

"Wanted you for so long, princesa. Want to know how you taste, what this beautiful pussy feels like. What you look like when you cum."

His wrist aches with the back and forth motion but his pace barely faulters. 

" M-Miguel …"

He applies pressure to your clit, and watches in awe as you spasm, nails digging into his forearm. 

" Oh, there it is. Right there, hmm? Does that feel good?" 

You nod frantically with a stifled sob. 

"Not quite, baby. Need to hear you say it. Or I won't let you cum."

"...fuuck you."

" Oh, you'd like that. Still not what I want to hear. Tell me how much you like it when I fuck you with my fingers."

"F-Feels good." You stutter. He stops, wrenching his hand out of your pussy to leave you clenching around nothing.You almost scream.

"You're being a brat, not my princesa , hmm? Only good girls get to cum."

" Miguel , please. I'll do anything." He guides you along his thigh, still lodged between your legs, and licks up your wetness on his other hand. "You m-make me feel so good. So good. And I want you so much it hurts, sometimes. I just want to cum, don't even need your cock. Fuck me with something , please." 

"Miguel? Not asshole? Or fucking idiot, this time?" 

"Please, Miguel ." Your pleas go straight to his cock. He throbs with need, cock rock hard under his slacks. 

He relents, not able to bear your dopey puppy-dog eyes for much longer. He slips three fingers in, without bothering to prep you. He hisses at the tightness of your heat, pounding into you and knuckle deep with his fingers. Shamelessly, you fuck yourself back on them, hips rolling over his thigh. He can't tear himself away from the sight, palming himself through tented trousers. 

You kiss and nip at his neck, as he whispers obscenities at you under his breath. 

"Can you cum for me, princesa? Cum f'me, and I'll take care of you, I promise."

You clamp down on his fingers and moan into a kiss as you ride out your orgasm. It's intense: leg-shaking and leaves you shuddering in the aftermath. You were rusty, sure, hadn't had sex with someone in a while. But Miguel made you cum so hard you saw stars, with only his fingers. Your chest heaves with the thought. 

You thought he would leave you, torn stockings and all, in the little cupboard. But he stays, to sink down to his knees and lap at your folds. You rest a hand on a shelf for purchase, head back in bliss. You cunt is still sensitive, throbbing at the orgasm he's just given you, as you licks you clean. He's taking care of you. You card your hands into his hair, tugging gently as he moans into your pussy. 

He gives your clit a gentle kiss, and swipes up a trailing tear that rolls down your inner thigh. You watch as he pops his fingers into your mouth, cleaning off the cum. Your cum. 

Miguel gives you a lazy grin in the bare bulb of the equipment closet. He seems completely unfazed by the fact his fingers were in you not a moment ago. 

"Are you free after work?" He asks, and it takes a moment for you to process. 

"Uhhh… s-sure. Probably?" 

"Let me take you for dinner, somewhere nice."

All you can do is nod, dumbly, ripped stockings still around your ankles. 

"And then I can fuck you properly, princesa." 

_

_

_

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #light angst #kat_writes😼 #miguel o hara x reader #headcanon #miguel o'hara headcanons #jealousy

[tkbrokkoli]

.

#wanted to change my tires tiday w an acquaintance but it's raining rn so we postponed for 1 hr which means now im sitting here Waiting #im already dressed and ready #also this week i tried out dry shampoo for the 1st time and this shit fucks!!!! years ago a friend recommended it to me bc i have to wash #my hair every 2 days bc it gets oily fast. for some reason i just never wanted to try the dry shampoo #but this week i was just so exhausted and i was like wow wouldn't it be nice if i didn't have to wash my hair so often #and i remembered the dry shampoo. anyway. it works. and it adds insane volume to my hair which is amazing. i don't rly like the smell #but it's ok considering the immense benefits of not having to wash my hair. yeah!!! 😁 #we have an audit next week at work. i rly hope i won't get asked any questions ugh. i srlsy don't know shit. like. i know the bare minimum #to get my work done. this weekend i should also rly get going w writing applications bc in autumn when i actually Need a new job #there probably won't be as many positions offered anymore as there are in spring now. considering ppl finish their studies and #apprenticeships in late summer and then in autumn they'll all be scrambling to get a job #not fandom related #personal log stardate

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ ONE MORE CHANCE? (IT WON'T BE THE LAST) ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ you hate your ex, but nobody else can fuck you half as well — so maybe you'll give him one more chance.

contents: fem!reader. implied unprotected sex, dirty talk (?), lil' bit of praise, lil' bit of degradation, oral (fem. receiving), couch sex, gojo covers your mouth at one point, cursing, lil' bit of teasing/mocking (?). sorta toxic but whatevs we love a toxic king! 2000+ words.

author's note: got lazy in the middle of writing this loll

"he's just so fucking annoying," you groan, swirling the drink in your hand. the ice clinks against the side of the glass as you lift the cup to your lips, sipping the whiskey and wincing at the way it burns the back of your throat. you lean back in the plush couch in your friend's living room and sigh. "i don't know why i ever dated him."

your friend nods in agreement, eyes fixed on her phone for another second before she turns it towards you. "look what he posted on his instagram."

on your friend's screen is an instagram story, and the tag shows that it's from your ex-boyfriend — satoru gojo. tired of his insensitivity and annoying nature, you had dumped him two weeks ago, and god, you'd never had such a petty ex in your life.

after you broke up with him, he blocked you from all his socials and got all his friends to do the same. so, since he practically knew everyone, you lost a hundred followers.

and apparently, he's out fucking some other girl right now.

the story on your friend's phone is a picture of a smirking satoru with his arm wrapped around some girl with a red plastic cup in her hand. they're bathed in overhead red lights, and you can barely make out a familiar dark-haired boy in the back — another one of satoru's fuckboy friends.

"he's such a manwhore," your friend says with an eyeroll. "d'you want to stay the night?"

you shake your head, setting down the now-empty glass on a coaster. "it's alright, i wouldn't want to intrude," you say with a rueful smile.

your friend eyes you suspiciously for another second before leaning back in her own seat and closing her eyes. "stay safe, it's pretty late."

you nod and toss your things into your bag before stepping out the door, closing it gently behind you. as you get in your car and drive back to your house, thoughts of satoru fill your head. 

you don't recognize the girl under satoru's arm, but she's pretty — too pretty for him. sure, satoru was conventionally attractive, with his ocean-blue eyes and flawless physique, but still. 

satoru was a shitty boyfriend, and now he's an even shittier ex. when you two dated, his spoiled brattiness and constant sorry, i forgot's drove you insane. he couldn't even remember your birthday. it was a miracle that you tolerated him for that long — until your one-year anniversary, which obviously slipped his mind.

"you're so insensitive," you groan, dragging a hand down your face. satoru suppresses a sigh, blue eyes looking everywhere but at you. "and— satoru, are you even listening to me?"

you're quiet for three seconds before he responds, and naturally, it was with a "huh? yeah, what is it?"

every time. every single time.

"it's over," you mutter, shaking your head frustratedly. "we're over, satoru."

"fine," he responds after a moment. "i never really liked you anyways."

"fuck you."

if you didn't give a fuck about that white-haired bastard anymore, why did the memory of your breakup still sting?

you try to tell yourself that it doesn't matter. maybe it was for the best — he was out with some pretty girl, so why couldn't you go out and sleep with some hot guy? 

you make up your mind right as you step into your house, and thirty minutes later, you're in a tight dress and four-inch heels. and it's almost funny how easy it is to doll up when you don't have a horny boyfriend trying to fuck you every two seconds.

right before you step out the door, you eye yourself in the mirror and can't help but admire the way your dress hugs your waist, accentuating your curves. that smug manwhore didn't know what he was missing out on — so why not show him?

you pull out your phone and take a picture of yourself, snapping a couple before deciding on one and posting it on your story. you knew he'd see it — you intentionally let his burner stay unblocked, and coincidentally, he didn't block you either. 

just as you push open your door, you realize that your phone's on death's door — just over five percent remaining. so you plug it into your charger, kicking your feet impatiently as you wait for it to charge to a reasonable amount.

some part of you wants to chicken out, to stay home and spend the night watching a classic romcom. but the other part of you, the part that can't ignore the fact that you haven't had sex in two weeks, urges you to go out and get laid.

so twenty minutes later, when your phone finally hits forty percent, you practically throw open the door and rush out and find yourself face-to-face with the guy who's somewhere between belly conklin and andy bernard on your most-disliked list. satoru gojo.

"what the fuck are you doing here?" you snap, wrapping your arms around yourself as the cold night air touches your bare skin. satoru eyes you up and down, and suddenly, you're very aware of just how exposed you are. "satoru, answer the damn question."

"where are you going?" he asks, eyes narrowing when they settle on your dress's deep neckline. 

"none of your business," you reply shortly, biting the inside of your cheek. unfortunately, satoru looks good. just like in his instagram story, he has one button undone in his collar, and his hair is rumpled and perfect all at the same time. "answer the fuckin' question."

"saw your story," satoru replies, slipping his hands into his pocket. "you going out on a date or something?"

the question catches you off guard, and your irritated expression drops for a moment. strangely enough, satoru doesn't have his usual smug expression on his face — he looks conflicted. he never looks conflicted.

"doesn't matter," you respond, walking around him and relishing the way your heels clack on the concrete ground. without turning around, you ask, "so, what about my story made you come over?"

you're not sure why you're baiting him. maybe it's the slight chance that he would beg to get you back, maybe it's the tightness in your chest and pussy, or maybe you just want the satisfaction of seeing satoru squirm.

whatever it is, it lets satoru take you by the wrist and drag you back inside. you suppose that if you can get dick at home, then there's no point in going all the way to the club. and it's not like you're gonna get back together over one night — this would be purely physical. he wanted you, and you wouldn't mind him.

"fuck, right there, sweetheart," satoru groans, pushing your legs impossibly farther apart as his tongue laps at your pussy. the two of you barely made it to the couch in your living room before satoru pushed you down, a mischievous smile on his lips. one thing turned to another, and soon enough he was on his knees in front of you and eatung you out like a starving man.

"you're such a loser," you mutter, threading your fingers through his hair as his tongue makes you see stars. he really was — who shows up to their ex's place after getting dumped? a laugh bubbles out of satoru's lips while his mouth is still on your pussy and it makes you shiver. satoru looks up at you, an amused gleam in his eyes.

"s' that so?" satoru mumbles, pressing his lips to your inner thigh with a smirk. "then why'd you let me in, huh?"

"why would i go out when i can just get fucked at home?" you say dryly, a smile growing on your lips. "since you made the effort of coming all the way here."

"my pleasure," satoru scoffs sarcastically, getting up and joining you on the couch as he tugs you into his lap. "so i'm the pathetic loser here, yeah?"

you nod, letting satoru unzip the back of your dress with one hand. he laughs and shakes his head. "you're the one who let me in, baby."

"yeah, well, you showed up."

"you coulda slammed the door in my face."

"maybe i should've," you mutter, not liking the way he's grinning at you. "you gonna fuck me or what?"

"aw, you're desperate. how cute," he replies without missing a beat. it's been a while since you got to banter with satoru like this, and some part of you misses it. sure, he's disgustingly cocky, but at least he has the dick to back it up. and it's fun, too — you like the chase, and clearly, he does too.

"not really," you say with a shrug. that's a lie — the only reason you let him in was to get fucked, and contrary to the excuses falling from your mouth, you were getting impatient. not that he needed to know that.

"fine. have it your way, brat." satoru smiles cheekily and bounces his leg up and down, making you grit your teeth as you struggle to focus.

you make a face at satoru, crossing your arms. "what are you—"

"waiting."

"for what?"

"for you to beg."

your mouth falls open, and you glare at satoru, hating the way he's smugly grinning at you. this isn't the first time he's asked you to beg for him to fuck you — back when the two of you were dating, he had no problem edging you the whole night and practically making you cry for him.

"not this again," you groan, letting out a drawn-out sigh. "just fuck me already, satoru. or i'll go get someone else to."

satoru clicks his tongue, smiling lazily. "we both know you won't do that."

again, he's right, and god, you hate him for it. "just shut up and fuck me."

"alright, since you asked so nicely," satoru drawls, running his tongue over his teeth. he studies you intently, white hair falling into his eyes. before you can ask what he's looking at, he has you pinned against the couch cushions, face down and ass up. 

"good girl, stayin' nice and quiet for me," satoru groans, hand clasped over your mouth as he pounds into you from behind. "you always talked too much. never knew when to shut that damn mouth."

you moan against his hand, unable to think about anything else but satoru and his dick. that's the only reason the two of you stayed together for as long as you did — because the sex was irreplaceable. and after two weeks without getting fucked, you seriously consider throwing all pride out the window and begging for him back.

"shit, you're so fuckin' tight," satoru says with a rough laugh. "have you really not fucked with anyone else since you dumped me?" 

you shake your head, eyes pressed shut as satoru continues sloppily thrusting into you. there's a coil in your chest that's threatening to burst, and the whines slipping out of your lips increase in both pitch and volume.

at this point, you can hardly remember why you broke up with satoru — or maybe, he's just not giving you a chance to remember. his pace is relentless and mind-numbing, and shit, maybe it's for the best.

when he finally lets you cum, it's the best feeling you've had in what feels like forever. the edges of your vision go white, and satoru removes his hand from your mouth, letting out the lewd, muffled sounds that you've been suppressing all this time. not long after, satoru cums too, and it's sloppy, messy, and all over you. 

satoru collapses on top of your back, hot breaths slipping out of his mouth and brushing against your cheek. "took me so good, baby," he groans, pressing his lips to your neck and laughing breathily. "we should do this again sometime."

you shouldn't like this. you should be shoving him out your door, but his mischievous smile is irresistible. and even though you know this time probably won't end any different than the rest, you decide to give satoru one more chance.

"yeah, same time tomorrow?"

"anythin' for you."

#osaemu #gojo smut #jjk smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles

[angelltheninth]

Leon S. Kennedy Gets Tired of Dancing Around His Feelings for You

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, fluff, kissing, friends to lovers, confession, sexual tension, quickie, possible pregnancy

A/N: Back on Leon! I mean back writing Leon. But... also wouldn't mind being on him.

Fed up!Leon is very on edge when he goes on a mission with you. You're avoiding his eyes, asking his assistance, avoiding him all together for some reason. He does know the reason actually, it was that kiss you shared with him when you were so happy that he was alive. Ever since then you've been awkward around him.

Fed up!Leon tries to get things back to normal but it's getting more and more difficult to pretend that everything is fine. It's not fine that you can't talk to him for more then a few minutes. And it's definitely not fine that you're on his mind so much that you're the only woman he's been able to jack off to for weeks.

Fed up!Leon goes to the shooting range more and more often lately. He needs to focus on something other then you, and the missions with you. Otherwise he will lose his mind. And of course you were at the range at the same time as he was. Fate always loved screwing him.

Fed up!Leon pushes though the heat of the gun barrel as he moves it down and gets into your face, demanding that you talk to him already. He won't let you get out of here until you do. You look at him too, and during missions it's dangerous. You need to settle this, for your safety and of those around you. That was the excuse he was going with and he will stick with it.

Fed up!Leon kisses you to shut you up when you keep insisting that there's nothing wrong. You're in denial of your own feelings but can you really ignore them when he is right here, giving you, showing you that same love that you wanted for so long? No you can't. You have to kiss him back.

Fed up!Leon pushes you up on a desk and pushes away all the bullets and guns to the side. He doesn't want to waste time anymore, he wants to be yours and for you to be his, he wants to be one with you. Both your pants are down around your ankles by the time his lips leave yours, he wants to hear those whimpers he's been fantasizing about.

Fed up!Leon knows you don't have much time before the next group arrives for shooting practice but he can argue that he's shooting too. He doesn't have the patience to wait until your time is up now that you've kissed him back and are looking at him with so much lust.

Fed up!Leon thrusts his cock into you with so much urgency that you can barely keep up. Your pussy barely has time to tighten before it's pushed open again, his hard cock making you dizzy with how good it feels, your pussy making him dizzy, making him confess to every time he wished he could have fucked you like this and backed away instead.

Fed up!Leon didn't think ahead enough to put on a condom and because of that knows he should pull out but then he would ruin your uniform. Can't do that, then people would know about you taking your relationship to the next level. There would be no end to the teasing you'd both be subjected to.

Fed up!Leon will make sure to take responsibility if you end up pregnant. He's the one who wasn't thinking, but then again you did put him in a leglock. Maybe you were just as sick of dancing around your feelings as he was? He hopes that's the case and if you don't end up pregnant and he becomes baby daddy then he would at least hope that he can become your new boyfriend

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon kennedy headcanons #leon x f!reader #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil x female reader

[noxtivagus]

I LOVE FINAL FANTASY SO MUCH

#🌙.rambles #coping mechanism!!!! all left i have to do for school this week is just smth easy for math :] then after that it's the weekend n all #i will use fiction ! as an escape ! wooooo . my thoughts are suffocating. n i am so goddamn tired c: #fuck i am so tired of being trapped in my mind n being bind down by my past n everything. just everything #wait i feel like crying why is dynamis playing god i love ff sm.... i am actually crying rn it saved me. it really saved me back then. n no #i am such a goddamn slave to sentiment. to nostalgia. to memories n the past n everything i have lived through. it all means sm to me n #that's one reason why it hurts. i love it all so much but it's so fleeting it hurts.... oh this is bad i am actually crying a lot right now #how do i carry it all? how do i remember it all? i can't die i can't forget i can't deny all these bcs as much as it hurts #it reminds me that i'm alive yk? these memories these words serve as proof that. in the past. once upon a time it really was real #n the concept of reality is something i'm so weak to bcs it feels so lonely in my inner worlds #oh despite all this pain i'm still soft at heart huh. i'm crying so much. #so much thoughts i have. that i don't know how to write. but i try so much to share what i can despite how afraid i often get #when you live a life i have. in these worlds i have. in my head. it's so lonely. it's so so lonely #n. god ffxiv makes me so vulnerable in a way that. fiction is something that's. i really grew up with it being #sometimes even stronger or more present than my own reality #i've always loved the stars too. the moon. celestial beings. everything i've read in those books; whether it be fiction or non-fiction #but always. always something far from my reach. so to have something so real to be a part of #wait i'm crying even more i remember again HAHA fuck wait listening to dynamis rn is making me even more emotional #hermes as a character. i feel like he felt like he didn't belong. he wanted answers. to be understood. to understand. #n we're so similar in that regard. n i'm so weak to those sort of similarities yk? it means sm to me when i've always felt so different #ffxiv here is. it's fiction. so i can freely lose myself here. fly as high as i can without fear of. idk. maybe the #vulnerability n ephemerality of reality...? it's so beautiful. it really is n i wonder if i ever really belong there #sob i realize. there. i've been so accustomed to always reaching out futiley to something i can't have. does not exist. or yeah #reaching out to a past i cannot relive. just to remember again how it was exactly in those moments. or a future i'm uncertain of #or the present. which i'm not ever quite sure about what exactly it is. or what's going on. or myself. #understanding. understanding.... until i understand all i can of this world n finally accept that i too am living n real. i won't give up. #there's so much to life that will forever be left undone. i'll do as much as i can. so i can hold unto my humanity. unto reality. im crying #i did not expect to cry so much tonight;;; but maybe i still underestimate the pain i carry. i deserve too the kindness that i give others #because i'm human too. i'm young. n i know what that means to me. sm thoughts sm words it hurts sm im crying. but fuck that i'm still alive #i'm so confused i'm so lost. on what really is my reality. on who i am. god it's so overwhelming i don't know where to start it hurts .