#sol when i catch you. when i catch you sol. sol when i --

[clonehub]

"you were in danger" why "because your mother was super powerful" why "because she used the Force or something to create you from nothing. youre one person in two bodies" so we see how this doesn't mean "she was endangering her children" right. right.

[knifefangz]

Jrwi prime defenders spoilers !!

I was having a normal day until I remembered that tide could have fucking DIED back there btw. Like William could have accidentally killed him with that injection. BIZLY ROLLED FOR IT. It makes me insane to think about. "because his guard would never be up for you" FUCK YOUUUUUUUU BIZLYYYYYYY

[maul-of-shame]

""""Qimir"""" in Episode 5:

[solradguy]

Good morning I was going to make a post about how Granblue robbed us of yet ANOTHER big sword dragon man that could have had lizard eyes but doesn't (SOL BADGUY GUILTY GEAR STRIVE), but then I kept scrolling

They at least glow :) I'll take it

[crestedpalls]

not okay.

WHAT THE FUCK WAS EPISODE 13?????????? WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE DIED????? WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE LIVED AN ENTIRE LIFE WHERE THEY WERE STRANGERS??? WHAT DO YOU MEAN???? WHY DOES SOL GOTTA GET SO MUCH TRAUMA? WHY DID SHE HAVE TO WATCH HIM DIE BC OF HER????? PLEASE, SCREENWRITERS, I JUST WANNA TALK!!!!

[chazz-is-a-zelda-fan]

“im so normal over them” i say as i lay hunched over my ipad furiously scribbling away “i am soooo normal over them”

[everyurlithinkofistoolong]

I don't even hate will solice in a genuine way just in a old woman yells at cloud way

[theguardianace]

Hello my dear 🤍 look at these guys !!

omg child and parent…..

[cryptfile]

᪇ꫭ dreamseeker, [ qimir x jedi!reader ]

summary — it all started when you find out he’s alive.

warnings — pure angst, violence, blood, mentions of injuries and tons of tension, sfw.

side notes — 4k+ // English's not my first language so please be kind! went slightly away with this one so would catalogue it as an alternative universe. Heard liking without reblogging makes you fall in an awful curse that breaks my heart in the process so let that sink in, anyway everything it's appreciated!,,, thought about making an +18 second part? dunno,,, thks also for the 110 followers! love you guys sooooo much *heart avalanche*

The air's hot in the room when you woke up.

The sweat made the sheets stick to you body as you got out of bed for the third time that week, a terrible headache forming as you leave the dormitories in the middle of the dark. Coruscant suddenly feels unbearable. You've slept almost nothing through the course of the week, so you surely are in a bad mood when the cold wind of the night makes you shiver at the sudden change of temperature.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

The words are repeating in the back of you head, scratching a part of your brain while you keep on trying to remember who's voice you're dreaming so much lately.

It's all connected somehow, always is. You've learned to trust the force a while ago, learned that destiny's intertwined with an energy field that holds the galaxy together the hard way, so you know, deep down, that you have to trust your guts in this one, something that you know it concerns you but can't quite understand what really is in the first place.

Dreams. Dreams are a cruel thing that you tend to forgot sometimes, the reflection of the mind and soul projected like a high-class transmission in your head. Dreams talk, and they make you think about things you've let in the past, things you've certainly need to come back at some point.

That's why you can't sleep later, cause you know it means something. You know that dreaming the very same dream every single night for the past week means something more than just mere imagination playing around, far from an innocent scenario.

The temple is silent at night even when the city outside seems to be so wake in contrast of the inside, most of the lights out as you crossed the empty hallway hoping to avoid anyone, cause you know they'll ask questions you don't have an answer for.

In all truth, you don't have a clue why are you up so late, why this deep voice kept you awake when you should be deep in your sleep, dreaming about something more than superstitions. You don't have an answer to any superior, don't seem to have an answer for yourself either.

The Jedi trials ended long ago, yet, you don't think of yourself as someone as successful as Yord Fandar, your talent being far from what it should be expected. You never complain about anything and never would, they were the only family you ever knew and you refuse to lose everything you've been working so hard for just for questioning your bare existence.

"Can't sleep?" The male voice makes you stiff almost immediately, checking your surroundings to notice Master Sol approaching you from the left. The Jedi Master catches you by surprise, your hands already on the lightsaber that is hanging on your waist before you notice you're safe, even when you don't want to talk. "I'm sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

There are things that are worth hiding, but with Sol? Master Sol seems to see through it all, the worries and the dreams that you don't know if you should call nightmares, even when you try to lock them away for a minute. That's the main reason the man stares at you, cause you expel that smell of desperation, the tension in your muscles as you don't sleep in what seems are ages.

"What's troubling you?" He asks, your own eyes betraying you as they can't hold the weight of his gaze. "I know it's not my place to ask, but are you sleeping well lately?"

"Not really, but nothing to worry about" you say almost afraid that it's going to get you in trouble, the lack of sleep making you think the most stupid things as you stop in the middle of the hallway, making sure there's no one around more than Master Sol and yourself.

Not sleeping is a dangerous thing when reality tends to become a feverish version of itself.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

You're unsure of telling him what's really going on, unsure of trusting the people you've been close your whole life out of nowhere. A sudden sixth sense that commands you to keep the dreams to yourself, the sound of the male voice you've been listening like the most important secret you've ever hold account of.

It's almost embarrassing to admit you don't trust a Jedi above your rank, that your sixth sense all of sudden makes you keep the truth when it can be something important, when Master Sol has been like a friend to you after all those years of training.

Things have been weird since your Jedi Master was found recently murdered in Ueda, a heavy weight in your shoulders as it saddened you more than you even expected. Master Indara was like close family, and you find yourself missing her, mostly in moments like that when you wish you have someone to talk to

“I was going to the dormitories” Sol explains soon after, walking by your side. “I needed to ask you for a favor my dear friend, and I’m afraid I cannot wait much longer for you to heal.”

Heal. Are you ever allowed to heal? It’s been less than a couple of days since you found out about Indara, let alone the dreams that were tormenting you the rest of the week and suffer the loss, so it seems funny when Master Sol tells you he cannot wait much longer: No Jedi ever has time to heal.

“What can I do to help?”

It’s all it takes to leave Coruscant after, trapped in space in a small ship with not only Master Sol, but Yord and Sol’s younger padawan Jecki Lon, strange enough, also with Verosha Aniseya, a former Jedi you keep an eye on through time passed.

Suddenly you’re traveling through the galaxy and there’s no time for any more tears. Suddenly you need to toughen up and act like this Jedi Knight you’re supposed to be, even when you keep questioning yourself more than ever.

Maybe it’s because of Indara’s death. Her decease came so out of nowhere it shocked you to the very heart — It’s clear that you’re sensitive, dreaming stuff you’ve been getting tired of deciphering, pure nonsense, but then, the ship lands in Khofar and Sol it’s convincing you to stay inside even you’re perfectly capable of taking Verosha’s twin and his alleged master.

It’s your own mind that plays tricks on you, making you believe you’re not good enough to help. Truth is you felt your training as a padawan was not enough, you’re an easy target now that you’re hurt and it seems to make sense when all of sudden the group of Jedis leave you to fucking rot between white walls and buttons that sparkled.

It’s clear you’re affected. How can you not be affected by it? You’re overcome by sadness and anger both mixed together, and that feeling by itself is a dangerous one when in history, makes people question things too much to the point of no return.

So when you find yourself close to the light of the hologram that you turned on being so bored in the ship, your fingers dim between the white and blue rays as you wondered: Is it honorable to seek for revenge? Is it true to a Jedi to feel this gut-wrecking wrath?

You know the answer deep inside. You know it’s wrong, yet your feet think otherwise, cause when you leave the ship in the middle of the night you still debate yourself if you should disobey, if you should do what you want instead, walking through the woods like you know which way to go.

You never disobey any command, so it’s a new thing to openly doubt about the judgement of your superiors, to walk in an unknown planet despite the orders you were told. The path seems to light by itself as you can sense it in the air, the force conducting you in silence as you walked in a fast pace. You know deep down, know everything went wrong.

The blue light of your sable is enough to light the way, the humidity in the air makes you sweat as concentrated in the sounds of the nature, you run, run until your lungs are burning and your heartbeats are so fast you’re afraid the organ itself is going to jump out of your chest. You run even when the long leaves of the plants hit you in the face, when your legs are getting cramps and you can feel the lack of oxygen: The pain is not enough to stop you.

You can hear it from far away, the heat of the fight. The sounds of the physical effort, the buzzing of the lightsables against the silent night. Adrenaline creeps across your blood flow, and even when you can't breathe properly at all you run to the chaos, driven like a moth to the flame. You let the force conduct you as you close your eyes, jumping and elevating from the floor enough to hold the sable from over your head — You attack.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

It’s coming again, the rough sound of your dreams when your blue sable hits the red out of nowhere, force colliding against each other as the impact is enough to send you directly to the floor. You know who the enemy is, the surprise in Jecki’s face and the disapproval moments after

The stranger is fast and he doesn’t hesitate when he strikes, it’s fast enough to hurt in a mortal way and you became aware of it when Jecki’s falling to the ground and the acid in your mouth is enough to make you look away — The anger comes moments after, the red stains blurring your vision as you let out a scream, gathering the force to dodge his deadly attack.

It’s for Indara, the young padawan, and the Jedi’s he just slayed like they were nothing: It stings in your soul yet you stop holding back, stop holding yourself to finally hit harder, to strike faster than he does, to hurt the stranger as much as he hurted you. And he responds, but not fast enough to beat you, cause you let the metallic back of your sable hit his head when he’s kneeled on the floor, and you smile to yourself cause you have no damn mercy when his helmet finally cracks and it’s enough to break apart revealing his face.

It’s all it takes then. All it takes to froze you in that very spot, holding the sable over your head, ready to end his life with no second thought.

You know that face. You know it when suddenly he’s smiling at you.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

It makes sense soon after, lowering the sable to the floor without fully believing it, a ghost in front of you as you feel the air leaving your lungs. Drinking the sight of him like he’s not real, like it’s a sick joke your mind made to break you down, to make you weaker.

You’re pulled by a sudden force, by the force. However, falling to the floor hurts way less than seeing him again, the words stuck in your throat unable to speak. It’s imminent, it’s devastating when the pain catches you by surprise, your back aching against the rough surface.

He’s going to kill you, isn’t he?

It makes sense to die by his hand. The memories you two share, the intimacy that was taken away so sudden, it only makes sense to die by the one you loved before, even if it's a surprise you'll never recover from.

The heat of his red lightsaber against your neck is not enough to scare you, but enough to finally look at his face, to encounter his eyes and reveal the truth that was hidden all along between lies. You experience the intensity of his gaze, how it softens when realizing you're looking at him with that same look you have been doing it years ago.

"You're alive" it slips away from you before even noticing, the sound of your voice wrapping him in a haze he didn't expect at first, to be so devastated by you even after all the time resenting the Jedi's and everything they represented "Qimir you're alive..."

He knows you're shocked, the sound of your voice piercing in his ears as he threatened with the weapon against your neck, any sudden movement would slice you in the second — "Hello to you too."

He's real, when he speaks out loud you know he's real, he's standing in front you erasing all the theories you made about not sleeping enough now making you delusional, he's there, standing ready to kill and take what he wants to feel like he won.

It's a personal vendetta, you know it as you expect any answer, any word at all until Sol's screaming as he's taken away from you once again.

He's not a friend, he's not the Qimir you once knew, and he's not someone you can trust again as he was ready to kill. He's not was he used to be, and you can tell by the way he moves, the way he goes against Master Sol hoping to leave the Jedi in the floor, his anger when he refers to his acolyte as a traitor.

He's the one responsible for Indara's death indirectly. He's not a lover. He's not a friend.

You think he died years ago, never really understanding what really happened to the bright man you met in Coruscant, a secret no one dared to bring up. He has the same fucking smile you know too well, the one that make you crumble completely in the sight, and it sadden you, it saddens you he take that path when you seem to woke up from whatever has you nailed to the floor and finally run to help Sol.

You believe you're in the right side, you've been taught about the light and the dark, and you put your heart out filling your mouth saying how you're doing good, how you're making things right.

It's kill or get killed. It’s clear that Qimir does not seem to care about any connection you shared before, hurting you no longer means whatever it meant before, and as the sable burnt your tight, no one cares when you're fainting in the floor, abandoning the fight when it approaches his end.

Sol's mad, but it's not enough to make the master stop to check if you're alive. So many lives were lost in Khofar, and the fight was so demanding you're soon forgot in a planet when the sun is finally rising.

You know you've always been alone, know the last time you saw your family you were too young to even remember, so it's not a surprise when you're left behind. Jedi's come and go, that's why they keep training them generation after generation — It's expected to lose some percentage in missions.

What's not expected, it's when Qimir is close to your cold body later in the early morning. Still deep induced in the fever of pain when he's betrayed by his own heart, his old feelings resurfacing even when he made sure to bury them in a hole in the back of his head.

He's weak it seems. And he should be ashamed of himself when he's the one carrying you back to his ship when everyone has left you behind.

I'm searching for you. Even in my dreams.

Is that his voice? The rough sound that makes you wake up in a uncomfortable place with clothing you don't remember owning.

You're confused for a second before realizing you're in unknown place, a cold breeze shivering your skin: You're in someone's house, using someone's bed.

It's all it takes to make you stand up, leaving the warm sheets behind as your eyes scan the place looking for both a person or a way out. There's a saucepan in the fire cooking slowly, and a smell you can't describe at first.

You move carefully, theories in your mind about what happened that seemed so imposible. You're sure you're far from Coruscant where you should be, yet, you don't feel much danger when you discover you're left alone in what it seems to be a cave, one that lets a windy current enter through a slit between the rocks.

You're unsupervised: Does that mean you're not a prisoner?

You remember fainting in the cold surface of Khofar, the humidity in the air as the air leaves your lungs before entering a state of unconsciousness. You remember Qimir as a ghost in front of you, smiling like he's young again, trying to get to your room in the middle of the night as if it wasn't forbidden.

Was that your dream about? A warning about the stranger being alive?

You don't dare to drink the water, you don't dare to touch any belonging more than the necessary when inspecting. Its more of a hiding than a home itself, so it lacks of belongings as you can't find anything else more than your clothes, protecting yourself from the cold air.

You're not treated as a prisoner, yet you don't feel any safe at all due to the recent events that seemed to say otherwise. You cannot seem to find your sable, and the silence it's making you lose patience.

The cave is a mess soon after, you're searching for your most important weapon, so now the lack of it seems to make you nervous. You search until you're no longer alone, a new presence in the cave as you adopt a pose of defense.

"Where's my sable?" you ask to what it seems the air, acting all tough before noticing who's the person that dragged you to a different planet, the responsable of healing your wounds with a unexpected speed. You know who it is from before, the change in the cave when he's around even when you don't receive any answer back "I'm talking to you, Qimir."

He doesn't talk when he's tossing it over the things he brought from outside, the orange details in the heavy metal shining against the dim lights of the cave. He knows you are not leaving without it, that you're too attached to it for your bad luck.

"Where am I?" you ask soon enough. At this point you lack of patience out of all, you're tired and your body is sore, you're still dreaming that very same thing, and you're not resting enough to keep your mind sane, so it's not a surprise when you're demanding answers, after all, you wanted to know what happened back in Khofar.

It hits you how much you miss him now that he is in front of you in full silence, not in the middle of violence like before, how much you wanted to hug him until he no longer breathes and spat something stupid as a not-very-funny joke. You miss him after all those years of believing he's death, that he disappeared out of sudden without telling nobody, not even you.

The silence makes you mad, and the stranger knows it, sense it in the force when the anger hits you, filling the air of the cave that feels small even when the spaces are big enough. He lied. That's all you can think of, he lied and never bothered to tell you he's alive after suffering his departing so whole heartedly.

Nights without sleeping as you let the insomnia carry you to a state you can't leave, overflowed by feeling you've learnt to deal with in the pass of time. Time heals it all they say, but it just makes things more bearable, help you live with it.

But now. Now it was cruel, it's a wound that opened by itself with the things you saw, the person he was now, embracing his dark side like it was something worth celebrating.

"Talk to me," you say, and you don't know why you're the one asking for answers when you shouldn't. "This is not fucking fair."

Fair.

"Nothing's ever fair," he says, and the sound of his voice is enough to make you shiver. Now that you're surrounded only by the crashing sound of the waves hitting the rocks outside, you can hear him without the buzz of the fight. "Your people know that very well. You make the rules after all. You decide what's fair in the galaxy."

It's a knife in your heart. You don't want him to affect you like he does, but it's impossible when it stings like a burnt from the sable, the weight of his words, the hatred on his tone when he spits the words like they're acid in his tongue.

"I've never made nothing" it's a declaration of self-hatred at it most, how you've not been capable of doing much even when you pride on being called a Jedi Knight. "You know that."

There's no response. You're used to follow orders, not question, trust you're working with the correct side, so his look is something new, something that leaves goosebumps on your skin.

"You're alive," you still don't believe it at first, now studying his factions like they were still craved in stone back on your head. "After all these years, you couldn't tell me you were alive?"

It's a bad joke, one that makes you laugh leaving a bittersweet taste in your mouth — "You couldn't tell your best friend you were leaving? Nobody talked about you all of sudden, you became a dream. Almost making me sure you never existed at all."

"That's what they told you? That I leaved?" the way he's telling the information makes you furrow your brows in response, trying to make sense of what he was saying: Was he implying they lied to you?

"Please, explain me then" you're not in the mood of fighting, instead, you want information, crucial information to what you were choosing to be "Enlighten me. Tell me why you left me there without saying goodbye. Why it doesn't seem to affect you as much as it affected me."

The stranger has grown cold. He has now adapted beneath this rough amour that separated him from what he was before. So he doesn't give you any answers even when you question him, looking at you without saying a word.

You've changed too. You're not the little padawan that followed Indara around and look up at Torbin, you're not afraid of showing your force anymore, after all those years he has told you you're more than capable of defeating any enemy, you are starting to believe it more that ever. Even when he's not around to see that change happen in front of his eyes.

He's not going to answer, he's not talking nor giving you what you needed.

"Am I prisoner?" you ask again, another question added to the pile.

"Does it look like you're being held?" he asks back, squatting close to the stove in the fire to the stir his soup. "No. You're not my prisoner."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. He always was a man full of pride, but now it seemed he thrive in it, in sharing his knowledge he was sure it was so powerful he needed to take a pupil, some kind of dark padawan he wanted to train.

"I don't know you anymore Qimir," you state out loud, hoping to talk to him as a long-time friend, as the person he was in love all those years but never acted on it too afraid of the rules at first. "I don't know who you've become, and i've been mourning you like it's only yesterday you vanished from my life, yet you've been alive, plotting against your family."

"Family?" he asks, hurted by the words you choose. "I've never had a family. You know that very well, it was always me against them, against anyone who questioned their power, their use and knowledge of the force."

"So is that how we are going to act now? Like pride is enough to make you leave and act like we were never a thing? That I wouldn’t die for you without even question?" you seem disappointed as you speak — “Why you didn’t kill me back there when you had the chance?”

He's taken back by your words, the sincerity as you admit what it seemed impossible to say back then. It’s known by him the feelings he had for you were enough to stop the whole galaxy, but he never had the courage to say something about it, to go against the rules and let alone admit to you anything at all.

So to know that you care for him, even when you talked about it like it was in the past, is enough to make him short-circuit, to make his face change in a new look.

“You already know why I didn’t kill you” he says it so casually while cooking, that even when you stand in the middle of the room trying to think about anything, anything more that him and his powerful gravity that made you spin around him, drawn by his pulling force — “Doesn’t matter who you stand with, i’d never do anything to you.”

You let that sink in. You let him say it cause maybe, deep down, it’s what you need. Your eyes are full of tears but you don’t want to let any single tear roll from your eyes the second you feel the sadness, you don’t want to show any weakness whatsoever, anything that will make you look less than what you really are.

“I could ask you the same” he says soon after, looking at you from over his shoulder in a low voice that sends shivers down your spine “Why did you let me live back there?”

It’s a bruise in your ego, to your sense of defense — Walls up, not letting any feeling show at all. His question is left out in the space as you look at him through narrowed eyes, reminding yourself he’s the enemy.

He cannot have the satisfaction. He’s the one behind Verosha’s twin sister after all, the one who send her to seek her own revenge. You know you should kill him with no second though, to cease with the leak, destroy the rebel cause that was so dark and powerful, so dangerous, but as before, you can’t hurt him by any chance, too attached to the enemy to even think about using the force against him.

Qimir. You don’t expect him to be alive, to be so angry at his lies. You don’t expect him to be the threat to peace and tranquility you’ve been so warned about.

Fuck that. You can’t deal with him again.

Maybe you are a coward after all, not worthy of being called a Jedi Knight. Always too unsure, questioning if you’re doing things the right way.

It’s not your fight. It’s not your place to be, you’re not his prisoner so you reach your lightsaber quick enough to leave his side, holding the weapon against your bare hands as you leave the cave, facing the daylight and the ocean in front of you.

You're not his prisoner, so you quickly leave as soon as you can leave, unable to hold his gaze anymore, to answer a question you shouldn't be asked. Even if it's cold outside, the sun still shines and you are sure you're going to find a ship that will take you out of there, as far as possible — Maybe, even leave him there.

But when you walk, you're followed close by in silence. Not a prisoner, but not free enough to leave free whiningly.

Even when you pace fasten enough to try to leave him behind, it seems like it's not a physical effort to follow you near by, to follow the same footsteps you give in order to look for a way to get out.

What's his plan anyway? Follow you forever? He's going to get tired soon enough, the problem is you don't have the patience enough to wait for it, you can't wait for Qimir to be enlightened by mercy, to be rational, to let you leave so you can be as far away from him as possible.

So at any sudden sound, you happen to snap, to turn on the sable in one swift movement, quick enough to pull it against his neck, almost touching his skin, the blue light reflecting in his pupils as he seemed pleased by your attention.

That's what he wants in the end. Even if it's anger, he wants to get any reaction out for him.

"Stop following me around" it's a knot on your throat, a sting in the heart as you threat him, the sound of your voice almost mixing with the loud crashing of the ocean. "You said yourself, i'm no prisoner."

He can sense your anger yet he's devastated by what you've become, devastated by finally being in front of you. Even when you're hesitating to spare his life once again, he's driven by the smell he was so caught on before, the memories you brought, attacked by the lonely life he was forced to live, the perks he enjoyed embracing his dark side.

It seems like forever, an eternity while the energy just flows, while the tension consume you both.

You're caught in a spiderweb you cannot get out, cause when he opens his mouth to speak again, you don't expect to make your world tremble that way.

"I was searching for you."

You know what's coming next, the sound of his voice like a recorder playing over and over in your head, the vibrations of his tone matching the ones you've been dreaming about lately.

"I was searching for you. Even in my dreams."

It's enough to make you lower your sable.

To make the stranger smile.

my masterlist

[glaciertea]

Spiders are some very freaky sex deviants. Just a little something on how I think Miguel would let a couple of those spider sensations come out during sexy times.

My first time trying a drabble. I'm not used to writing something short like this, but here I go~

Word count: 608

CW: 18+, oral pleasure (F receiving), light bondage, not proof read

Divder by the @thecutestgrotto

You've been wanting to incorporate some of the spider mating rituals you read about, simply because you were curious. You remember easing your findings during dinner, catching him a bit off guard.

“Is this what you do during your off days and when I'm not around?”

“Always good to know random trivia.” You chuckled nervously, taking a bite out of the takeout in front.

Miguel was silent for a bit, not easing your anxiousness at all. Maybe curiosity did kill the cat, well, the spider in this case. Ready to laugh it off, pretending that you were joshing around, he sighed out. 

“Alright. Tell me what you learned.”

That startled you. You weren't expecting that. You were already delving into the rabbit hole of if what you did was overstepping boundaries, but he tapped the table and called your name.

“Will you tell me, or do you prefer to have it demonstrated hands on?”

So he confirmed your intrigued nature. You decided to not tell him, but act out how the female spider would act out during these said rituals. Getting ready and prepared in the bathroom then settled on the bed. You didn't alert him when he could come in, instead you sat there and waited for him to come, waited for him to come to you.

He didn't move from the living room for almost five minutes, when he got a whiff of the Sol de Janeiro Cheirosa 59. You only pulled that out for special occasions, so tonight was extra special. Trekking to the room, he opens the door, but doesn't stick his head through.

“Mi reina? Everything okay?” Miguel croaked out. 

“Hm, is that a prey or something more?” You hum out, earning a groan for him.

Miguel taps the door a couple of times, alerting you that he wants to mate, and you signal him to come in. Miguel walks in, but stands there, and refuses to move an inch, eyeing you in your silky, short nightgown. You remember that some female spiders have to approach the male, and slide yourself off, but tantalizingly slow. You swore you already saw a drop of a sweat roll down his forehead. 

Standing in front, Miguel began to stroke your face down to your breasts, your curves, stomach, and hips. His pupils are huge and before you know it, you find yourself on your back of the mattress, legs spread apart with Miguel making out with your exposed cunt.

He usually takes his time, but tonight, it was a whole other ballgame. You did read that there are spiders that like to give oral, and Miguel was no stranger to it.

His tongue whirling like a maniac, jutting in and out and picking up the pace whenever you felt your walls clamp around it. Your legs could barely move because Miguel held them down. You got an idea and started to try and close. Sometimes male spiders like to bind the female spider, not enough to keep her immobilized, but to ease. 

So why not test it out?

You used a bit of strength to push his grip when you heard the famous thwip, and sure enough, you were tied to the bed. His mouth was glistening with his spit and juices, and his eyes had a primal glare. 

“Shh, don't worry, relax, relax. I got you.” Miguel leaned back down, mouth wide open and went right back to eating you out. The way his jaw was opening and closing at an insane speed on your vulva had you seeing the multiverse.

Now you needed to dig deeper on what else freaky things spiders are into.

[crudemachine]

blossoming adoration. (xiangli yao x rover!reader)

xiangli yao doesn’t pride himself on his intelligence. in fact, he doesn’t like it when other people treat him differently because of it. he’s the principal investigator of huaxu academy, that much is obvious, but he never demands any kind of special treatment for it. always so humble and gentle with everything he does, it's no wonder a lot of his colleagues admire him.

outside of his duties at the academy, xiangli yao is also the caretaker of the moontree lodge during the moon-chasing festival. however, he doesn’t want to take the credit for his own hardwork either. the smiles he gets to witness and the laughs that he’s fortunate to hear whenever he's able to fulfill someone’s wish are enough for him, he says. luckily, nobody else (aside from you) knows about this side hustle of his. most people have seen xiang-lee and patty but never him.

yes, he’s content with that. content with working behind the scenes.

so why is it different with you?

why does he get this sudden urge to show off his prowess in front of you?

when he showed you one of xiang-lee’s features, you immediately patted the floating robot’s head, much to his surprise. feeling flustered by the idea of you patting his head, he splutters. you manage to catch the ever so composed xiangli yao by surprise, what a feat.

“sorry, i couldn’t help it…” you chuckle awkwardly as you apologize, unsure if you offended him or not.

“ahem, it’s fine.” coughing into his hand, he feels his cheeks heat up. out of all the things he expects you to do, he didn't expect that one.

internally chastising himself, he finally regains his composure. xiangli yao looks at the screen in front of him while your radiant self looks back at him (well, at xiang-lee actually) with a smile, waiting for further instructions from his end. something about you draws him in. maybe it's your kindness? your humility? or maybe it's something else entirely. he can't draw concrete conclusions for now.

similar to the countless scientific theses he has studied, each individual is a complex enigma to him, you included. he wants to unravel the mystery that is you, but there's also something within his chest that threatens to swallow him whole. it's much more foreign than anything he has felt before.

the value of human connection has never been lost on him, and so he welcomes it.

even though he's hesitant to act on these newfound feelings of his (for now), he can’t help but stare at you for a few more seconds nonetheless. your eyes are captivating; your eyelashes accentuating them even more, he notes.

he thinks he can look at you forever.

he shakes off the thought hastily.

“hello? sol-3 to xiangli yao? are you there?” you wave your hand in front of xiang-lee.

“oh! yes, i am. the connection was unstable for a bit so i fixed it. i apologize if i worried you.” a little white lie here and there never hurt anybody sometimes, right? you don’t need to know how he’s acting like a school boy with a crush over you. not now, at least.

“good, i thought i lost you there for a moment.” you breath a sigh of relief.

maybe the next time you and him meet up again he should put a petal or a leaf on his head. will you remove it and pat his head the way that you did with xiang-lee then?

somehow, he finds himself entertaining that thought, fondly smiling to himself unknowingly.

note: HES SO CUTE GUYS.......... i love he.................. xiangli yao the shoujo man that you are........

[onyourowndaisymae]

seventy-two pacts

have some sol thirst (i would go feral if this were me)

content + warnings: suggestive, solomon x reader, solomon has visible pact marks and reader does too

word count: 462

"damn."

the word comes out quickly, before you can even think. you cover your mouth in embarrassment-- justified, considering you couldn't keep your reaction in-- but you can't peel your eyes away.

solomon's peeling off his shirt. in the midst of joking around and pouring some for you two to enjoy, he'd knocked the rim of one of the glasses against the bottle, spilling it all down the front of his shirt. so, to avoid soaking himself further, he immediately began to take the long sleeved garment off.

then you said it, and now he's frozen, shirt halfway off.

can you blame yourself, though? you've seen your fair share of shirtless men, as is expected when living in the chaos of the house of lamentation. but they're all smooth-skinned and flawless. some of them have a couple of scars here and there from the great celestial war. their muscles were obviously impressive in their own right. but they all missed something that solomon had-- something you're just now seeing for the first time.

swirling black lines run across his pale skin, curling around muscles, decorating the smooth planes of skin in intricate designs. from across the table, you can make out little latin characters. pact marks. a lot of them. the ornate symbols decorate the exposed part of his lower abdomen, luring you in with strange words and beautiful lines before disappearing beneath his beltline. do they-- do they follow his v-line? holy shit, you're about to start drooling--

"haha, mc, my eyes are up here!"

his charming, light laugh catches your attention. his eyes are sparkling with mirth, lips curled into a cheshire grin as he removes the rest of his shirt and bunches it in his hand.

the pact marks dance up across his broad shoulders and down his arms. they're gorgeous, arcane and mystical as they sprawl down his biceps and spill onto his forearms. you've seen his sleeves rolled up before, so you knew he had a few pact marks, but-- 72 pacts never looked so damn good.

the seven pact marks on your skin had always been a point of your own fascination. but seeing the sigils on solomon's skin made you wonder if you'd ever be covered the same way.

"i need a new shirt," he declares, smirking at you. he take a couple steps towards his room, then stops when he sees you still at the table. "c'mon."

"huh?" you feel like you've missed something.

"you think you've seen all of my pact marks? no, my dear apprentice, i have plenty more where that came from. and since you're so curious, i figured i might as well show you."

you scurry up from your spot and follow him like the obedient little apprentice you are.

[weeknd-ogoc]

LUNA, SOL Y MAR ˳ ׄ ⟡  . CARLOS SAINZ JR.

SUMMARY: in which carlos reminisces about your long relationship before he decides to propose to you. (inspired by the song, san lucas by kevin kaarl) FACE CLAIM: cindy kimberly CONTAINS: overprotective parents, major fluff, making out and carlos catching a feel! AUTHOR'S NOTE: as a latina, i feel likes there's not many imagines with latina girls for carlos so i decided to make this for ya'll. 🩵

(the smaller words are the english translation!)

🩵 twelve years old

carlos and you had been best friends growing up so somewhere along the way the both of you ended up falling so in love with each other. at first your parents thought it was just a harmless crush so they allowed you to spend your afternoons with him.

since you guys lived a few minutes from each other, their was a little garden area near your house and that became your little spot to hangout.

"my dad's taking me on a trip to italy to enter a race tomorrow..." carlos had told you as he plucked the little blue flowers on the ground. "but i'll be back next week."

he was always worried about leaving you since he knew how harsh your parents could be with you, in the case he wasn't around he sent his older sister to make sure you were alright.

you smiled at him as he handed you one of the flowers. "lucky you, i want to go to italy some day."

the young boy plucked another flower from the ground and put it on your ear. "créeme, cuando seamos mas grandes te llevaré por todo el mundo." (believe me, when we're older i'll take you with me all around the world.)

little did you know he had actually meant that.

🌙 sixteen years old

as the new year started, carlos made it his mission to make sure you were going to be his from now on. so the next night he helped you sneak out of your room and the both of you walked to your spot — where he had set up some blankets and pillows on the ground.

"very romantic." you smiled as you laid down next to him.

god did he love that vanilla scent you had.

the both of you laid down under the stars in silence, he was trying to gain the confidence to ask you out and in doing so he slowly wrapped his arm around you.

"la luna se ve tan hermosa..." you had said as you laid comfortably against his arm. (the moon looks so beautiful)

you hadn't noticed he was actually looking into your eyes "no tan hermosa como tu." (not as beautiful as you)

this had you both screaming on the inside.

he cleared his throat and looked back up to the moon.

"it's now or never..." you mumbled out and before he could ask what you said — you had already softly pressed your lips on his.

deep down he was kind of glad you made the first move.

before you knew it the kiss was starting to get more intense and he pulled down one of your straps on your dress, which you allowed him to. "let's try to slow down..." he said in between kisses and you let out a small mhm. so the both of you tried to slow things down, but it wasn't easy since his hands were wandering and your lips had somehow attached onto his neck.

"y/n!" the both of you heard which made you guys jump up — you had pulled up the straps on your dress and he tried hiding his very visible boner.

your father stood their crossing his arms. "regresa a la casa ahorita mismo." (return back to the house now.)

you glanced at carlos before walking back to your house and overheard your father telling carlos he was never going to see you again, but the two of you were teenagers and in love so of coarse you were going to see each other again.

☀️ eighteen years old

the day before your eighteenth birthday, carlos was finally returning back to spain. he had chosen to become a professional driver and you one hundred percent supported him, he had been traveling for a few months but you guys managed to still talk over the phone whenever your family wasn't around.

his parents always welcomed you into their house when things got hard back at home, they had loved you as a daughter after finding out carlos and you were together.

"meet at our spot, i have something to tell you!" he excitedly told you before he got on his plane. "te quiero mucho..." (i love you so much)

so after your parents went to work, you snuck out and walked to your spot, where carlos was already waiting for you. he had the blankets placed on the floor and blue roses in his hands.

you jumped into his arms as he hugged you tightly. "god, i missed you hermosa." (beautiful)

after a few more kisses and hugs, the pair sat under the sun as he had told you about his races and showed you pictures. he loved how excited you were for him and he was excited for what he was about to ask you.

"you're turning eighteen in a few hours and i want you to leave with me..." he quickly told you. "come with me to my next race and after that we can travel all around the world."

your parents quickly crossed your mind but you nodded to his question "cuándo nos vamos?" (when do we leave)

he kissed your forehead and looked back down to you. "tomorrow morning!"

after talking about your futures, the sun was starting to get stronger and you put your hair up in a bun. "hace más calor" (it's getting hotter)

he smirked before planting a kiss on your head. "no tan caliente como tu." (not as hot as you)

you rolled your eyes at him before pushing him down into the blanket and kissing him once more.

the both of you stayed until midnight and he walked you over to your house, where your parents were waiting for you on the front porch.

your dad instantly stood up. "yo te había dicho que ya no te acercaras a mi hija." he told carlos as he walked up to him. (i told you before not to get close to my daughter)

before your dad could touch him, you stepped in front of them both. "i'm leaving with him..."

your dad let out a laugh and looked back to your mother who looked scared. "he's not going to be able to support you with his silly dream job."

you scoffed "carlos is going to make it and i'm going to be right there next to him so i'm getting my stuff and i'm leaving."

carlos had helped you pack your things and when you went to the bathroom to get the last remaining of your things, your mom walked into the room.

"carlos, por favor cuidala." (please take good care of her)

he nodded. "siempre." (always)

your mother knew he had actually meant that and he truly did.

🌊 twenty five years old

the two of you had now been together for almost ten years now and were living in a big house in spain, you guys had gotten two dogs and they were basically like your children.

your relationship with your parents had gotten better after you left and your father had apologized to carlos for saying the things he did the night you left. he was proud of carlos for being able to fully support you.

"woah, are you okay?" charles had asked you since he saw you throwing up in a trash can.

you nodded as he handed you a napkin and rubbed your shoulder. "just peachy..."

"what's wrong then?" he asked.

the italian gp of 2023 was just in a few hours and it had you feeling real nervous for carlos, he had been training real hard and even looked nervous.

what you didn't know was that he was actually nervous because he was planning to ask you to marry him right after the race, he was so sure he was winning this race.

carlos overheard you telling charles that you were twelve weeks pregnant and he froze for a second.

it's now or never.

he cleared his throat and you looked at him with wide eyes.

"oop, i'll be out there." charles quickly mumbled before walking out.

you had walked up to him to him and he stopped you.

"amor, i was going to tell you aft-"

"cásate conmigo" he got on his knee and pulled the little box out of his pocket. "cásate conmigo" he said again. (marry me)

your heartbeat had instantly raced "car-"

he interrupted you once more. "i have loved you since i was a little boy, our whole childhood i knew it was going to be you and right now i know that i'm going to love you and our child for the rest of our lives."

your tears had began spilling out and you nodded. "yes i'll marry you."

he slipped the beautiful ring on your finger and pressed his lips onto yours. "te queiro mas que la luna, sol y mar." (i love more than the moon, sun and sea.)

thank you guys for reading, my requests are open!

© weeknd-ogoc, 2023

[astaroth1357]

Sick Days:

*MC is in the Croytus Hall kitchen, trying their damnedest to keep from coughing their lungs out while carefully monitoring a pot of simmering soup. They hear the footfalls of their housemate, Solomon, as he comes up behind them*

Solomon: Oh MC~! I have everything ready. Thankfully, the Devildom still has TV these days, even if the shows are out of d-... da-....

*a hankerchief flies out of his pocket and quickly covers his nose*

Solomon: ACHOO!!

*the hankerchief does its thing before flying off behind him to go put itself in the laundry, swapping places with a fresh one that finds its way back to his pocket once again*

MC: *keeps their back to him* Bless you.

*Solomon comes up and slings his arms over their shoulders, leaning against them like he's a sagging backpack. His head rests alongside theirs*

Solomon: Is it still cooking?

*he reaches out to lift the lid on the pot but MC, already knowing better, swiftly smacks his mit back down*

MC: Don't touch.

Solomon: Oh! Right, I'm sorry. Forgot the rules for a second. I'm sure it smells good... not that either of us would know.

*he contently sways their bodies from side-to-side while MC clears their throat, grumbling dryily*

MC: Y-ou know, you could cure us at any time, right...?

Solomon: So could you, yet here we are! You're just playing hookie from the brothers right now, aren't you?

*the MC tries to groan, but ends up regretting it as it stresses their already aching throat. They cover their mouth with their elbow to catch their raspy coughs before responding*

MC: U-ugh! Okay, fine... You're right. How about you stop breaking my balls and pick what we're watching...?

Solomon: I already have. Beel told me about this wonderful cooking show the other day! I think we can start with that, then maybe move onto a few movies Leviathan recommended...

Solomon: I have the TV set and heated blankets on the couch. Plenty of water, a few boxes of tissues (mostly for me), your favorite sweater, a plush Asmo bought me-

MC: ...

Solomon: -and anything else we need, I'll have my wand in reach! I figured for dinner, we can order out. It's lovely that you're making us soup, but let's not push-

MC: Sol?

Solomon: -Hm?

*MC wiggles him back until they can turn themselves around and wrap their arms around his chest. They rest their head up against the soft fabric of one of his old sleep shirts snugly*

MC: .... Thank you.

*Solomon looks taken aback by their sudden tenderness, but doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around them further and lightly cage them to his chest*

Solomon: Of course, MC... You take care of so many people. You deserve a break.

*a comfortable silence spreads between them for a minute or so, before MC starts to feel Solomon's cheek rubbing against the top of their head like a smothering cat*

Solomon: Oh, my adorable apprentice, you're just so cute when you're sick~

MC: *snaps their eyes back open and glares at his words, but doesn't let go yet*

MC: Sooool....

Solomon: If I didn't know better, I would almost want to keep you like this...

MC: *snorts* Good luck. The brothers would kill you for it. *they drop their arms from his chest, but he doesn't let go*

MC: Sol?

Solomon: I'm sure they would try, but you wouldn't let something bad happen to your beloved teacher, would you MC?

MC: *rolls their eyes* You wouldn't need my help, anyway. Let go.

Solomon: *squeezes a little tighter* Uh-uh! That wasn't my question.

MC: Sol, I need to stir the soup.

Solomon: And I need to hear an answer.

MC: Solomon, I'm serious.

Solomon: Oh? What's this? I think I'm gonna... ahh...!

MC: Wait, what are you-?

Solomon: Ahhh...!

MC: Solomon, let go!

Solomon: AHHHH....!!

MC: OKAY OKAY, I WOULDN'T LET THEM HURT YOU! Don't you DARE sneeze in my hair!!

Solomon: AHHHH- Just kidding~

*he finally lets them go and they lightly slap his shoulder before turning back around in a huff*

MC: Get out of my kitchen!

Solomon: Then I'll meet you on the couch again?

MC: Only after the soup is done.

Solomon: Then we can cuddle?

MC: Not if you misbehave!

Solomon: What if I steal the blankets~?

MC: *rubs their pounding temples at their teacher's childish antics*

MC: Solomon, I'm serious. Get. Out.

[inkdrinkerworld]

mornings

synopsis: sunshine!reader is not sunshine-y early in the morning, and miguel finds it very cute

cw: fluff, i think that's it, gn!reader [i think i only use they but no gendered pronouns]

It’s amusing to Miguel- this little portion of your personality.

He’d been surprised the first time he was over at your apartment and it was time to wake up- but now, a little over three weeks after that initial day, you’re at his apartment and he’s come to realise that this is your ‘allotted grumpy time.’

He’s been fiddling with some sketches for new suits and new transportation centres for the anomalies that you find as the sun rises. 

Miguel’s an early riser- something he’s sure you’ve attributed to his grumpy disposition. Always telling him, ‘It’s because you don’t let your body rest so you get grumpy halfway through the morning’.

Your alarm is going to go off in ten minutes and he finds that he’s eagerly awaiting it. 

The soft tunes of waves crashing comes from your phone; your groan follows it immediately. Miguel bites back a smile. 

You’re facing the halfway opened curtains, little streams of light pouring through the window as the sun stretches to the top of the sky. Miguel suspects that doesn’t help you fall back asleep as you try burying your face back into your pillows. 

“Sol,” he whispers, pencil in one hand as the other scratches at the nape of your neck. “Es hora de despertar.” 

Your hand finds his at the back of your head and you remove it with a little more force than he had been expecting. 

“No,” simple and final.

He leaves you be, knowing you’ve another alarm in five minutes that usually does the trick. As Miguel waits for it, he moves to his kitchen, setting the kettle to boil. 

Your grumbles find him in the kitchen and he smiles at how annoyed you sound. 

You stomp your way to the bathroom, and ten minutes later you emerge wrapped in your towel, your face is glossy so Miguel can only assume you’ve showered and done your skincare routine. 

Your frown doesn’t go away though.

“You alright there, grumpy?” he asks as he catches a glimpse of you getting dressed. 

“M’not grumpy,” you deny as you put on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top- as a second thought you pull a sweater off the hanger and drape it over your arm. You don’t have much tactical training today, so you’re opting for comfort. “S’early.” 

Miguel meets you in the living room with a mug of tea for you and one of coffee for himself. “You set your alarm, Sol.” he reminds you and you cast a scathing glare at him. He wants to laugh because you look the exact opposite of scary.

No one would believe him if he even muttered the words, ‘Oh they're not a morning person,’ or if he even insinuated that you could be grumpy. Not even Lyla. 

“How are you not grumpy?” you ask him as you take the mug from him and take a sip. 

Miguel shrugs, setting his coffee down as he gets a pair of socks and your shoes for you. 

“Maybe we’ve swapped places for the day,” it’s unnatural even for him to say but it pulls a snort from you and that makes him feel a sense of accomplishment.

“Or maybe you’re an anomaly,” you joke, reaching a finger to pinch and poke at his cheek as he fits your socks and shoes on for you. Miguel bites the tip of your finger as it comes close to his lips, smiling when you let out a gasp that turns to a giggle. 

“Ready?” He finishes off his coffee with a couple sips as he waits for you to pack your tote bag- it’s filled with mostly tactile stuff, like your crochet needles and yarn, a sketchbook and one of the little cubes that Miguel had designed to help with your thinking, and then your tablet with all your notes on it. 

“Miguel?” 

“Yes?” He holds the door open for you. 

“Do you think you could help me with the new design for the web shooters? Something’s off, but I’m not sure what.” 

He grabs his own tablet and a yoghurt freezie and hands it to you. 

“I can, amor. Will you come have lunch with me or will you be with Jess and Margo?” 

You laugh at how offended he sounds, “No I’ll have lunch with you. You missed me too much yesterday. Lyla told me how you were even grumpier than usual.” you’ve already eaten half of the freezie when you reach the elevator. Miguel only shakes his head, plotting to figure out a way to get Lyla to not tell you everything about him.

[achromatophoric]

It’s late night at Nevermore Academy. A quietly seething Enid leads a disheveled Wednesday back to their room.

Wednesday: So you see, mi amor, there was never anything to worry about. I have returned unharmed and Weems suspects nothing, precisely as I had planned. As some would say, “no harm, no fowl.”

Enid: *shuts door and glares at Wednesday*

Wednesday: Not even a smile, Querida? Did you not notice that I made a joke?

Enid: Yes, Wednesday. You were investigating werechickens. Ha. Ha.

Wednesday: Werecassowaries. They are significantly more dangerous and… uh…

Enid: *upgrades to death glare*

Wednesday: *swallows* So. Ah. I did not mean to disturb your sleep. Why don’t we—

For the first time, Wednesday notices the mess on her bed. Feathers and fluff in ghastly mimicry of an animal ruined beyond recognition.

Wednesday: What. What is this?

Dark eyes study the mess, then shift to explore the rest of the scene. They alight upon the bird plush that sits atop her desk. The doll, one of a pair of ravens that Enid gifted Wednesday after their first date, is in its assigned location, but its twin? Missing.

Wednesday: Muninn? Where is— oh. Oh no.

Enid: *watches*

Wednesday: What befell Muninn? Who— *breath catches* —who would perform such an appalling act of vandalism? Why??

Enid: Poor, poor Muney. This is like, so tragic. Ya know, I think I might have an idea of what happened.

Wednesday: You… do? *stares at Enid*

Enid: Sure! You see, I heard from the other stuffies that Muney was being a bad raven.

Wednesdays: Oh?

Enid: Yuppers. Muney was being naughty. Muney had promised his best friend Fenrir that he’d stay out of trouble. *nods towards her bed*

The aforementioned wolf plush is perched atop the pile of its cuddly brethren. Enid pauses for effect, then continues.

Enid: Muney swore up and down that he’d at least like, stop lying so that Fenrir wouldn’t stay up all night worrying about him.

Wednesday: Omission is techni—

Enid: *snarls* Don’t. EVEN.

Wednesday: *shuts the fuck up*

Enid: So what was cute, sweet, and endlessly patient Fenrir supposed to even do? When she discovered that Muney had, once again, broken her promise to KEEP me IN the FUCKing LOOP!

Wednesday: *pales*

Enid: *deep breath* So. Poor little Muney fucked up. Poor little Muney was so proud and thought she was so smart. Now look at her! All bits and pieces. Broken legs, broken body. Her entire supply of exotic poisons, flushed down the toilet.

Wednesday: M-my—

Enid: SHUT IT.

Wednesday: *honest to God cringes*

Enid: Muney is fucking lucky that Fenrir is so damned generous, because, why look that, Hugey is still in once piece. Hugey and her fancy. Antique. Knife collection.

Wednesday: *totally whimpers*

Enid: So if Muney knows what’s good for her, she’ll what?

Wednesday: Sh-she’ll be honest with F-Fenrir and uphold her p-promises.

Enid: And?

Wednesday: And she is tr-truly and deeply sorry for ever worrying her beloved wolf. Mi sol furiosa, upon m-my honor as an Addams, I shall endeavor to never malign your trust again.

Enid: 🤨

Wednesday: … and I love you?

Enid: Aw, Willa! I. Love. You. Too! And of course I accept your apology. C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up and into bed. You look beat!

Wednesday: