#what ‘like’ and ‘dislike’ mean is up to you

[communistkenobi]

struggling to reconcile my dislike of the use of “choice” in relation to transgenderism. sex assignment itself is not a choice and I don’t find it meaningful or helpful to think I “chose” to be transgender. in fact there were many things I “chose” to do prior to transitioning to make this feeling go away and it did not. Choice is further wrapped up in intentionally de-politicised ideas about social action and agency, constantly positioned in opposition to “structure” or “social pressure” or what have you. “Choice” is what happens only in the absence of domination, it is the expression of the “individual” trapped within us all. What this leaves you with is a subject who appears to rise above the power of history, making decisions ‘of his own free will’ in spite of all this violence as a result of, um, well that’s not important! Let’s not look at the law or the state or history to see where these ideas of personal individual freedoms come from or how they are themselves enforced through violence. It’s just an individual acting on his desires! To “choose to be trans” in popular consciousness means to be given the privilege of being free from patriarchal social pressures. And this is a line terfs often use - trans people are reinforcing patriarchy by deluding ourselves into thinking we can “simply choose” to be another gender. I think committing to the idea of choice as a concept and all its attendant ideological baggage (overwhelmingly structured by bourgeois legal frameworks in the popular imaginary) forces you into some deeply flawed analyses of power and domination.

And I likewise hate that the other dominant framework is “born this way/born in the wrong body” because of how it naturalises the very political and violent nature of sex assignment and its embeddedness within state census data, administrative architecture, the pathologisation of sex and desire (all of which are not natural or eternal), and so on. furthermore I deeply respect the position other trans people have when they say that they chose to be transgender - outside of conversations of individual validity, I think that is a politically useful and powerful way to position yourself. Even if we were to accept that being transgender is fully a choice, people would still do it, because being trans is not disgusting or shameful. I am not a sick individual, or a tragedy, or a danger to others, I am transgender and that is an incredibly meaningful and fulfilling part of my life. To frame this as a sexual perversion or life-long condition means reinforcing the idea that transgenderism is a shameful deformity (we have much in common with our disabled & intersex comrades in this regard), that the cissexual body is the exclusive site of beauty and authenticity.

And so this is where I find the idea of autonomy much more useful - while ‘choice’ is situated as a thing that individuals do, autonomy is power that is granted to you. I can’t meaningfully demand choice as a political goal, but I can demand autonomy. I don’t want choice, I want the autonomy to act on my desires, and the way that will happen is through the state provision of free hrt, surgery, name and gender marker changes, and so on. Autonomy feels like a much more productive articulation of “choice” because it necessitates that we think about who and what grants autonomy, for what purposes, in which contexts. Who gives a shit about choices! Transgenderism is not a social position an individual can have in society, it is produced through cissexualism, through state and medical sex assignment, through coercion and pathologisation and violence - all of which can be changed.

As a direct comparison, I don’t think people should be given the “choice” to have an abortion, but the autonomy to do so - sure you can choose to get one, but unless there is the medical, financial, and social infrastructure available to you to act on that decision, then that is not a meaningful choice you can “make.” Abortion being legal (and therefore an action you are granted the ‘choice’ to take) doesn’t mean it is actually realisable as a decision, it just means that whoever already has the power & resources to act on that legality will, and those that don’t, won’t. Who decides which people have those resources and which don’t? Well let’s not worry about that, the important thing is that people have choices!

[writhyv]

⋆｡°✩ jake pulls you into a kissing booth

would you kiss me? | sim jaehyun x male!reader

pairing: jake x male!reader genre: fluff words: 1.8k notes: my first jake fic! honestly wanted to write about him for a long time because he's one of the first guys i saw from enha ... he just has that hot popular kid vibe ... i HAD to make this ... AAAAA ALSO SHOUOUT TO @kaiyunsim! THIS ONE'S FOR YA BRUH

Your days at school began like any other student's. Each day was a repetitive cycle of subjects you had to endure until the semester ended. You had memorized these lessons long ago, yet still found yourself sitting in class, trying to absorb the material. It was exhausting, but deep down, you loved the thrill of academics. School was a place of peace for you, a welcome escape from home, which felt far away. It was a place you cherished, filled with the laughter of friends and the buzz of youthful dreams.

However, if you could choose to be anywhere else, it certainly wouldn't be your school, especially not during the school's founding celebration fair. To make matters worse, your friend had signed you up to help out at your class's assigned booth — the kissing booth.

You rested your head against your hand, manning the busy booth with an aloof gaze. It wasn't that you disliked helping; it was just that you hadn’t volunteered for this. You watched the chaos unfold around you, the energy of the fair buzzing like a live wire. Everywhere you looked, students were laughing, playing games, and enjoying the festivities. But here you were, stationed at the kissing booth, a reluctant participant in this social spectacle.

"Thanks again for helping out!" a classmate chimed in, trying to lift your spirits. His bright smile was infectious, but you only managed a half-hearted nod.

"Ugh... it’s not like I had a choice. Joey signed me up before I could protest," you replied, rolling your eyes.

"Joey did? She's a riot!" your classmate laughed nervously, glancing at you. Your glare silenced him. "Oh! I mean... she's just so... um, enthusiastic, right?"

"It’s for fun!" Joey interjected, crashing into the conversation, her energy palpable. The other student bolted away as if he had just seen a ghost.

"Aren't you allowed to have fun, Mr. President?" Joey turned her gaze to you as she held her hands onto your shoulders.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. Making friends in high school was challenging enough, but when people clung to you like they were your lifeline, things got complicated. Joey had always stuck to you like glue. As you grew to tolerate her presence, she introduced you to 'normal high school things'—experiences you had only read about in books or seen in movies. You felt like you could only refuse her so many times before she'd throw a tantrum.

"Again, it's ACTING president. I've only been called that since the new semester started, okay?" you corrected her, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice.

"Yeah, right. You'll definitely win again if you ever run. It’s your calling!" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"That’s why I can't be here," you said, standing up, feeling the weight of tiredness settling on your shoulders.

Joey grabbed your arm, pulling you back down. You knew this would happen, but it never hurt to try and escape, right?

"Hey! Not again!" she sighed, exasperated. "You've only been here for two hours! I promised you food, right? Just help out at the booth."

You shot her a glare but couldn't keep the corners of your mouth from twitching upward. "Fine, but I can’t promise I won’t try to escape again. It’s exhausting watching people come in and out of this booth."

Joey looked where you pointed, a smirk growing on her face. "Why? Curious about what happens there?"

You shot her an incredulous look, but she only saw the red flush creeping across your cheeks.

"What?" she defended, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ding ding ding?"

"No one’s interested!" you exclaimed, covering your face in embarrassment. Joey just laughed, the sound ringing like music in the chaos around you.

"Sure! It isn’t a big deal. Not at all~" she sang, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of warmth at her playful attitude.

As you chatted with Joey, a commotion erupted nearby, followed by a wave of cheers.

"Aahh! It's the soccer team!"

"The boys! The boys!"

The crowd erupted as the campus soccer team made their entrance, radiating an undeniable charm. With their impressive recent state champion title win for the nth time, and their unrealistic and striking looks, they were the stars of the event. You could see the excitement in the air, students gushing over their favorite players, the thrill of being close to someone so admired.

One of them, clearly the leader, locked eyes with you and bit his lip. "Hey~" he called out, confidence radiating like a warm sun on a cold day, having brushed his hair back, a gesture that seemed to send the crowd into a frenzy.

You blinked, looking to your side. "Uh... who are you talking to?" You felt your heart race, unsure if he was really addressing you. "Me?"

The guy grinned, stepping closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. "Oh definitely. You're really adorable up close, huh?"

You rolled your eyes, convinced this must be one of those pranks online. But he didn’t back down; instead, he moved closer to your ticket table, his presence both thrilling and intimidating.

"Ahem ... To purchase a ticket for the booth, please ensure you have your partner with you. All pairs come first," you stated, reading the fine print from the paper in your hands, trying to maintain your composure.

"Good then." He flashed you his ID. "Jake Sim."

"Jake Sim," you repeated, scribbling his name down. "Who would you be taking to the kissing booth?"

You looked behind him as his members stood still. "One of them?" You snickered.

"Kissing booth?" Jake's eyes widened in surprise, who seemingly haven't heard you talk for that second. "This isn't just a regular dating booth?"

You sighed, feeling an exasperated laugh bubble up. Of course, it isn't. The dating booth idea was scrapped due to budget constraints, leaving this more intimate alternative. There wasn't anything you can do at that point, even though you were the council's ACTING president.

"Yes."

"Shoot..." Jake checked his breath, a sudden look of concern washing over his face. You couldn’t help but chuckle at his sudden panic.

You laughed lightly. "Mint?"

He shot you a look, as if to say don’t look at me right now.

"Huh? I'm good!" he declared, spraying some fresh mist into his mouth. "See? Nothing happened." he smirked, spreading his arms wide, clearly trying to charm you.

"I still can't give you a ticket," you replied firmly, crossing your arms.

"Why?" he pressed, a playful challenge in his eyes.

"You have no partner—"

"I can take you with me, can't I?" he cut in, blunt and straightforward, his eagerness palpable.

It felt as if time had frozen. He looked at you with eager anticipation, and you could only respond with confusion, your heart fluttering unexpectedly.

"Me?" you stammered, flustered. "You can't possibly think of me as—"

Suddenly, you heard a whirlwind of chaos behind you, like a storm brewing in your booth.

"Two dollars, and he's yours!" Joey shouted, tossing you toward Jake with a mischievous grin.

"That's more like it!" Jake said, handing over the bills to Joey and waving goodbye as he led you toward the booth.

"Thank you for the donation!" Joey called after you, her voice fading as you felt your heart racing faster than ever.

"Two dollars?!" you exclaimed, shooting a death glare at Joey, who simply smiled and waved goodbye, leaving you feeling wronged yet slightly amused.

"Trust me! You’re worth more than that!" she whispered dramatically, retreating into the crowd.

You felt your blood boil at the suddenness of it all, yet something else stopped you in your tracks. It was as if time had paused again, leaving only the two of you in this moment filled with tension and unspoken words.

"This is ridiculous," you mumbled, avoiding Jake's gaze. Beads of sweat trickled down your forehead, and you wiped them away with your hands, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping up.

Jake laughed, drawing closer, his presence overwhelming and oddly comforting.

"What?" You looked at him.

"I'm just trying to understand why you don’t want me kissing you," he said with that playful grin that made your heart skip a beat. "I mean, everybody wants a piece of me."

So bold?! You rolled your eyes at his audacity. "What an airhead you are..."

Airhead? I thought people liked confident guys. Jake pondered, trying to maintain his charming facade.

"Heh. Am I an airhead?" he scoffed, a playful smirk on his face. "Isn’t it just because I know what I like?"

"Ugh." You mimicked your friend's signature sassy move. "Do NOT tell me that."

Am I already screwing this up? Jake’s mind raced, unable to keep up with his facade crumbling under the pressure.

"Can’t we just enjoy this moment between us, babe?" Jake said, leaning in and pressing his hands beside your head. Your eyes widened in shock, and you felt your heart hammering in your chest.

That's it, look flustered… please? Jake thought desperately, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his bravado.

You stared at him, disbelief washing over you. He was already making a move with something as cringeworthy as this? And calling you by such a boring pet name? You couldn't even imagine the other ridiculous things he might do. Maybe he would—

KISS YOU?! In a blink, his lips met yours, soft as a cloud brushing against your skin.

In that instant, something snapped within you. You tried to push him away, but he only deepened the kiss, and you felt something strange sliding between your mouths.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, trying to pull away.

"What—"

"A tongue?!" you gasped, staring at him, bewildered. Jake chuckled, clearly enjoying your reaction, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"What? I’m not doing anything," he smirked, knowing full well what he was doing.

"You snuck that devilish tip of your tongue into my mouth!" you accused, covering your face as heat rushed to your cheeks, embarrassment flooding your senses.

"Oh come on, you liked it," Jake teased, his confidence unwavering.

Did you? He wondered, feeling a mix of hope and doubt.

"That’s it! You had your time!" you declared, storming away, embarrassed and flustered. "Enjoy, then get lost!"

As you walked away, you shot one last glance over your shoulder, throwing out something Jake never thought he’d hear directed at him.

"Weirdo..." you muttered, shaking your head in disbelief, a mixture of confusion and exhilaration swirling inside you.

Jake stood there, feeling like a lost puppy searching for its owner. The thrill of the kiss lingered on his lips, but the sting of embarrassment washed over him.

Somewhere on campus, you could almost hear his loud screams of agony.

His friends rushed over, concern etched on their faces. "Hey, Jake!" a couple of teammates called, finding their captain lying on the ground, kicking his feet in shame.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Jake screamed again, all his efforts feeling wasted, his face buried in his hands as if he could hide from the world.

"Oh my god, he’s breaking down..." Joey remarked, stepping into the booth. She quickly closed the curtains, glancing at the curious onlookers, knowing too well the rumors that would fly around.

"Shh! People will get the wrong idea about our booth! This is NOT a screamo booth; the main stage is down by the garden pavilion."

Jake grabbed one of his larger teammates, his eyes wide with despair. "He looked at me like I was DIRTY!!!" he cried, trying to wipe away his tears, but failing miserably.

"Are you ... crying?!" Joey exclaimed, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yes, I’m crying!" Jake declared, wiping his face in a panic, his emotions spilling over.

"Captain, your image—"

"Who cares!" Jake slumped back down, defeated. "He probably thinks I’m a loser at this point... What gives?"

A heavy silence blanketed the booth, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

"It’s not like it’s the last chance you’ll ever get, you know cap?" one teammate said, trying to console him, though the words felt hollow in the air.

"But..." Jake murmured, his confidence wavering.

Another teammate stood up, raising his fist in determination. "You’re Jake Sim, our all-powerful soccer team captain! You can do anything!"

Jake slowly lifted his gaze, intrigued by their words, the fire within him beginning to reignite.

"And you can make up for it!" his teammates urged. "Then you’ll get that chance!"

He considered his situation. If he could somehow make up for what he did with you, it would earn him some serious brownie points, right? Maybe then he'd finally get the chance to ask you out.

"Okay!" Jake declared, standing tall and raising his fist triumphantly. "I’ll try better this time!"

"That’s the spirit, Captain Jake!" his teammates cheered, ending with a loud burst of laughter, their camaraderie lifting his spirits.

"Ugh... you guys are hopeless." Joey facepalmed, shaking her head in disbelief as she tried to suppress a smile. "Whatever... that’s not my business..."

As the fair continued around them, Jake felt a newfound determination swell within him. He couldn't let this moment define him; he had to make things right. With a deep breath, he plotted his next move, ready to win you over, one awkward attempt at a time.

I really wanted to make Jake someone who tries too hard to get someone's attention, only making himself a pitiful sack of potatoes by the end of the ordeal. DONT WORRY he should be able to get the guy right ...right?!

hope you guys enjoyed it! please like, comment, or reblog~

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

[sockatoothewafflebird]

omg this is amazing im saving this.

addung my ideas cuz its fun and why not:

i saw somewhere that gabbro calls hatchy "pebble" in the italian translationc and i think words like "pebble" (tiny rock) or "nugget" (gold nuggets, gold is technically a rock) could be like terms of affection because hearthians are named after rocks.

in the same vein, calling someone "a pile of sand" could mean you dislike them. lots of possibilities with different rock types. maybe a crowd of hearthians could be called a landslide.... (or maybe a school, cuz they were also aquatic)

"pardon my nomai" -the equivalent of "pardon my french". example: "pardon my nomai, but what the fuck"

"if/when the geyser blows" -something inevitable happens/the consequences of something stupid. basically the equivalent of shit hits the fan. "if the geyser blows and we do get lost in dark bramble at least we'll have our instruments"

"back when we could breathe water"/"since we breathed water". basically iist saying this was a loooong time ago. "i haven't seen feldspar since we could breathe water..."

OH ALSO calling someone a "water-breather" would be calling them old. instead of calling feldspar a boomer hatchy would call them a water-breather bwehehe

i came up with these on the spot lmao. anyone that sees this can feel free to add more, i'm looking for fun ways to write hearthians anyway (and these idioms really help flesh out their world better in my mind)

Thinking about Hearthian idioms,,

"They'd bite their own fishhook" - a person who is especially gullible

"Like planting a rock and hoping it'll grow" - something that is utterly pointless/foolish to hope for

"You've caught your fish, now eat it" - same meaning as "you've dug your grave, now lie in it"

"Their eyes point in four directions" - someone who is scatterbrained/oblivious to what's going on around them > Full phrase: "Their eyes point in four directions, none of them forward"

"They burn all their marshmallows" - someone who squanders opportunities

"Like trying to outplay the whole campfire" - a task that is impossible/very difficult, especially when it's something a person is trying to do on their own that would be significantly easier with help

“Like Nomai runes” - something that is incomprehensible > If about a person (e.g. “They speak in Nomai runes”), someone who speaks in riddles > Obsolete (if you try to use it now, you’ll be “um, actually”ed to death)

“Can’t find the end of a marshmallow stick” - someone who is very drunk

“Chose the wrong moment to shit in a geyser” - self explanatory LMAO

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

Weird black neglected!reader and the things the hate about the batboys do that disgust reader

So basically, there was a post ask what the bafamily does that disgust readers, or what disgusts readers—that's something like that. I can't find the ask because I answered it by accident when I wasn't finished, so whoever asked, you know who you are.

What disgusts readers the most about Bruce is his playboy persona; it irks readers to their core. Readers have always held Bruce to high expectations because their mom only spoke well of him. But all that changes when they attend a gala and see Bruce flirting with a girl decades younger than him. It makes their blood boil. Readers know the next girl is just the woman of the month, maybe day. When they were younger, a lot of the ladies would try to be nice to readers just to get on Bruce's good side. And Bruce tries to tell the reader it's just a fling and it means nothing, so no one will think he's the bad guy, but you don't care (he could be loyal, and loyal to your mother). Making the bat really guilty.

Dick, with his fake smiles and womanizing ways, makes it hard for the reader to support someone who hides their feelings or opinions when reporters or paparazzi approach him. He feels compelled to smile even while seething inside. Not only that, the reader dislikes when Dick attempts to fix everyone else's problems just to elevate himself and suppress his feelings; his womanizing tendencies are even more off-putting. The reader once looked up to Dick as a younger sibling would to an older brother, but his constant flirting with anyone within a five-mile radius has turned that admiration into disdain. This makes your poor older brother feel horrible and like a bad remodel.

Jason's nonchalance or indifference to things is perplexing, especially since you know deep down he is passionate about something he cares about. Yet, he'll never express this, at least not with you. He acts as if nothing is wrong when there is indeed something wrong. Deep down, a little Robin is screaming out and asking for help, but he'll never let it out. This type of denial disgusts the reader. Being your true self is the best self you can be; being passionate and headstrong is the best feeling in the world. Yet, he refuses to embrace it; he would rather stay constant than move forward. Jason really wants to make connections; he desperately wants to be a part of something. He wants to confide in the reader, but it might be a little too late for that.

Tim, a hypocrite and a smart-ass, reader is okay with being corrected; it just shows that they needs to learn. However, nitpicking every little thing he does really irks them. Telling the reader that something is wrong is not actual criticism; it’s just a way to put someone down. Boy, he is such a hypocrite! Timothy will literally tell you that monsters are bad, yet he goes and downs six Red Bulls before a patrol. Sure, he needs the energy, but he could eat a protein bar like a regular person. Not to mention, he is always telling you that something is really unhealthy, only for him to eat little to nothing at all. You always snap at him, and he’ll try to tell you he’s looking out for you like a brother should, but you don’t care. He really just wants you to be better than him, and be more responsible but the reader doesn't care for that.

Damian, pretentious and with a God complex, is literally an Arabian prince, so what did you expect from that little twerp? He thinks he’s better when he’s not that special. He’ll show off to readers every day and in every way. You pick up new hobbies, and it's his hobby now, and he’ll be better at it than you, probably discouraging you in the process and making you give up. If you're good, he'll try to be twice as good. Some younger siblings want to be like their big brother or sister or whatever, and it’s cute, but this isn’t cute; this is just stupid, and you hate it because Alfred always makes you hang out with the hellspawn. He’ll show off to your friends or brag about being Robin or how he used to live before the manor, and you want to hit the living daylights out of him. But even if you're taller, the kid was trained to kill at birth, so there’s no way. But all of this is because he really wants your attention and praise. You’re the only person in the house who doesn’t praise him or give him the time of day. He’s your younger brother; he shouldn’t be ignored like this. He’s royalty! Why are you rolling your eyes while he’s telling you about all the places he's been? You should be clapping and smiling—don’t ignore him!

[shysuccubusstuff]

L&DS LI are for those that... pt. 2:

Content: Gender neutral reader + Non proof-reader.

Note: I'm so glad that those that read pt. 1 saw themselves reflected on what I hc!! Thanks for reading as always, it makes me so happy to be able to read and respond to the comments, wish I was able to respond to those that repost as well... Something that I find interesting is that the people that like people like Zayne or Sylus are quite similar, at least in my opinion! I feel that the part of Caleb still lacks a bit of knowledge about him, but bear with me while I try to get to understand him better. Please let me know if I messed up big time with Caleb...

Sylus:

Sylus is for those that have spent their whole lives misunderstood. The ones that have always been seen as if they were the problem, always being left alone because of their tough/mean exterior. He is for those that have always been avoided even if they are one of the kindest people to walk on Earth. For those that have been cast away because of something that escapes their own control. He is for those that despite their harsh experiences due to their outer appearance still remain kind, fighting in the dark to prove (they aren't sure if to themselves or to society) that the exterior is nothing more than a façade, something that has no real value when it comes to loving.

Sylus is for those that have been always alone. The ones that either became accustomed or forced to do everything by themselves, the ones that were seen as people "mature" for their age. The ones that were praised for being such a good behaving child, even if this was merely a constant fear of being seen as useless or too naïve for their own well-being. Sylus is for those that have always dreamt about having someone that is always for them, the ones that enjoy having their own time alone but hate the feeling of loneliness. Sylus is for those that despite being aware of their own capabilities, need someone that is there, someone who reassures them that they are indeed able to do that and much more, even if they may fail on their first attempt.

Sylus is for those that hate lies. The ones that have always been feeling as if they are missing out on something, even if they aren't really aware of what it actually is. He is for those that have always felt as if people keep stuff away from them, because how are they supposed to trust someone that is constantly hiding vital information from them? Being able to find someone like Sylus, a person that despite having their fair share of secrets, have never tried for a second to lie to them about who they truly are and their likes and dislikes. Someone who will never make them question their true intention behind their actions, someone who will make sure to reassure them, answering to every single question that their lover may think of. Sylus' voice remaining calm and collected as they explain once, twice or as many times as they need just to make sure that their loved one is sure of his love.

Sylus is for those that live for the trope of enemies to lovers. Those that have always yearn for someone that wil love them even after seeing their worst. The ones that have been dreaming about that slow burn love, the one that despite beginning with harsh words and mean looks soon melts into the purest love, one that is born not just from love, but the feeling of pure admiration for the other. At the same time, Sylus is for those that kept fawning over the bad boys in novels and games, the ones that were always seen misbehaving in class, skipping school every single day, you know the drill. That is of course until they meet the main protagonist, the only one who is able to turn them into a better person while still maintaining that care free nature. This ties with how Sylus is for those that feel suffocated within their daily life, the ones that keep imagining themselves running away from all your responsibilities (even if it's just for a single night).

Caleb:

Caleb is for those that have always yearn for someone to protect them. He is for those that have always been forced to protect themselves, growing claws and fangs just to keep their own selves from being hurt. Caleb is for those that constantly craved for someone that would protect them, the ones that had to endure all kinds of hardships since a young age.

Caleb is for those that love hard, the ones that instead of letting go when they get hurt, choose to bite harder, deciding to sink their teeth deeper into the ones they love. After all, that's the only way you have ever learnt to love, choosing to stick to the ones that may hurt them, even if they are aware of just how damaging this is. Caleb is for those that love like dogs, tail wagging towards those that they love, even if they have hurt them before.

Caleb is for those whose love language is acts of service. The ones that pay close attention to what their loved one likes or dislikes. He is for those that love doing things for the others, making sure to listen to their every word just to make sure that they got everything right. Caleb is the one for those that have grown tired of being ignored, the ones that felt unseen, as even as they tried to let those close to them see their inner world, they simply chose to remain blind. Caleb is for those that always dreamt about being listened to, the ones that love speaking about their interests just as much as they love hearing about their lover's.

Caleb is for those that loved the yandere archetype. The ones that loved having someone head over heels for them, even to the point of causing pain, it doesn't matter if it's to him or to someone else, he is ready to risk it all. You know this may sound twisted, but how could you make someone understand just how much you needed to feel it. That desperation, the hunger... Caleb is for those that need their lover to prove just how much they love them, just how much they are ready to give up just to keep you. Caleb is for those that have lived in a constant state of unstability, the ones that have always feared waking up from that sweet dream of being loved. Caleb is for those that only know how to love too much.

[rhaeheartzsquirrelz]

General Sevika Headcannons

Sevika x Female Reader (Fluff)

Content (w): You’re horny in like.. once? Angst at the end, but its short.

Proofread || Note: I didn’t mean to disappear, writers block got to me :( Kinda short and this is, a tiny bit, rushed.

MEN DO NOT INTERACT!!!!

Random

Big on whistling. Does it when she needs your attention, when she’s checking you out, even when she’s teasing. She likes seeing the look on your face. Especially eye rolls, do one with a face and she’s giddy.

Insanely good at Sudoku. She picked it up a while back when Silco taught her the magic behind the numbers. Now, she’ll challenge the old man and watch as he pinches the bridge of his nose while she’s smiling smugly.

Loves when call her, or anything that belongs to her, cool. She likes being cool. That’s probably why she lets her cape fly off during fights.

Hates her glasses, mainly because they lack functionality, but enjoys seeing you thirst over them. She’d going blind and you’re over here drooing over her, she loves that. And, just for fun, she’ll wear a turtleneck; which, gets you hornier than ever.

Expression

Is she good at being romantic? No. She’s never had someone to be.. soft with. In a way, you’re the first person she’s ever opened up to. Be it letting you know her interests, her dislikes, her favourites, or just small, “not so very tough” things about her. However, she’s only just getting used to those things.

Flowers is all Sevika really knows. On her way back from her backbreaking job, she’ll grab you a few flowers from the market or straight up pluck one she randomly saw and surprise you.

Not so good with words. That woman doesn’t have a clue on how to comfort you. Why? Because she’s never been in a situation where she’s had someone talk her through her problems. Where she’s been able to let slip an ounce of vulnerability. Tragic, but she’s learning.

Things she does that she doesn’t realize

Stares so much that, before the two of met, it scared you. You thought you were her next target and lived in fear for the next week or so until the woman, finally, decided to talk to you. And, after a few months of dating you finally brought it up. She denied it at first but, when she caught herself staring at you a million more times she came clean.

“I was only appreciating you.” She brings it up so abruptly that you’re confused, “what are you talking about?”

With a sip of her whiskey, she rolls her eyes and sighs.

“Nothing..”

Her grip’s a little too hard. Her flesh fingers always end up digging into your waist whenever she’s trying to keep you close. Your girlfriend never noticed it until you had to talk to her about the slight redness she had left on your skin. And, for the next week, Sevika brought home boquets of flowers— not the cheap kind— every day until you told her you forgave her. (You didn’t know she wanted you to say so.)

So sassy that you sometimes have to take deep breaths in order to not tell her off. It’s not on purpose, she’s just so used to having that tone. One time you thought she was pissed at you when, in reality, she was just trying to find the next row for her Sudoku round.

Snores loudly. Jannah have mercy on your soul because that woman will not stop snoring for the love of her life. You’ve tried giving her different pillows, different positions, anything and everything, but nothing seems to work. Somehow, over time, you found a way to fall asleep with her deep snores beside you, even though, sometimes, you want to smack her in the face with a pillow.

Dislikes/Hates

Being ignored. Sevika will, quite literally, go insane if you ever give her the silent treatment. She’s not used to being treated like she’s not there— hell, she’s one of the most respected woman in Zaun, why would she be alright with not being acknowledged? Just to get back at you, she’ll annoy you until you break. Chewing loudly in your ear or shaking you up by heavily sitting on the couch beside you, she’s determined, and she knows you know that.

Her own overthinking. She’s been through a lot, and she doesn’t know why you still stick around with all her problems. Even the risk of you being in danger, because of her, makes her stay awake at night, she doesn’t want to lose you and she hates how her mind needs constant reassurance that you want the same thing. Even though she rarely says the amount of doubts she has, she’ll hit you with this look that only you can read. It’s a silent need that you, happily, provide. Murmuring soft words she’ll end up being embarrassed about later.

The saddest one of them all: her face. :(((( Seeing herself in the mirror makes her feel a sense of shame that she’s never fully able to verbally express. It’s the scars that make her feel self conscious, the wrinkles on her face that makes her groan, the masculinity of her jaw that makes her question herself. But, luckily for her, she’s got this amazing girlfriend, you, who will reassure all her problems away. You swoop in when you hear how quiet the apartment has gotten, follow behind her and give her a few looks of awe and comment on whatever she needs you to. Tell her she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen and she’ll melt. Smiling like some teenager while looking away in embarrassment; in that moment, she’s thinking about how lucky she is to have you with blush on her cheeks.

[corvus-ix]

Another You

Yandere Phainon x GN! Trailblazer Reader

Imagine Phainon have two close childhood friend, but he feel so much closer to the other than Cyrene

He doesn't understand why but he just does

Imagine how devetation he felt once he realizes his feelings but it was too late

Everyone and everything he know from Aedes Elysiae including his beloved is now gone

Phainon try not to linger through those memories for it only bring him back to that day

But most of the time he couldn't ignore the ache he feel in his chest

And then

You come, alongside Dan Heng and Caelus that day

He couldn't stop staring, he even try to impress you before Tribbie came up and interrupt them when he realizes what he was doing

Not once did he took his eyes from you, you just look so much like them

But that isn't right, you were suppose to be dead!

He try to start casual talk with you which was easy and it seems that you don't mind answering personal questions but not all questions was answer but he was fine with it

As You answer his question, not only the two of you lookalike but as if Phainon is talking to them at that very moment

Your likes, dislike, your favorite food, preference, it's like you never died to begin with!

And he couldn't help himself, Phainon start to visit and accompany you almost everywhere that rumors start to spread about a Chrysos Heir having a lover

Who could blame those bystanders, the way Phainon approach You is like a man courting his very beloved

Of course these rumors reach Your ears and your try to establish boundaries with Phainon

Phainon was disheartened but he didn't give up, just tome down his actions

And then one day

"I don't know Caelus, his nice and all but I'm starting to feel uncomfortable around him"

"Avoiding him will be kinda hard but he did push the boundaries you set"

"I don't know Dan Heng, NAME kinda have a valid point. Phainon barely leave their side and they way they look at them it's like he's full of...."

The other voice who might belong to Caelus cut off

He didn't mean to eavesdrop but he did and he stay in hope to hear more but he couldn't hear anymore from that cut off

Phainon was afraid, what if you distance yourself from him or worse leave him behind!

His heart won't be able to take it!

Phainon decided that for now, he'll be the ones who make some distance in hope not to scare you away

But one day he'll make sure your never able to leave his side ever again

He'll be damn if he ever lose you all over again

====================================

My original plan:

"I don't know, he remind me of Kevin so much but I know his not him.... Mei killed him long time ago..."

"I understand your anxiety but you shouldn't worry too much about it"

"I'm just afraid if Phainon will ever fall to same path as Kevin fall and I couldn't just watch it happen all over again"

He didn't mean to eavesdrop but he did and he stay

He remind you of someone name Kevin as much as You remind him of Them

You wouldn't mind if Phainon take Kevin place, would you?

At this point Phainon lose much reasoning and believe that your appearance is a gift from the Titans

And the uncanny similarities between the two of you and Him reminding you of Kevin

He'll be damn if he ignore those (non existent) signs and lose you all over again

Phainon is actually motivating me to write something for Kevin

Edit: forgot to add this but the Kevin Reader mentioned isn't HI3rd but the one in Acheron trailer and Acheron mentioned during her and Welt conversation at Penacony

[luvvictoria]

The Mission That Changed Everything

+ pairings. simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

+ tags. romance, heavy (?) angst, slow-burn, action-packed military romance with angst and tension

+ summary. A skilled Air Force pilot is assigned to provide air support for a mission alongside Task Force 141, specifically working with the infamous Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley. You immediately feel the tension in the room, as Ghost is cold, distant, and unapproachable. Despite the pilot's efforts to be professional, it’s clear that Ghost doesn’t trust easily, especially not outsiders. The mission itself is simple — clear the skies while the ground team breaches a weapons facility — but the dynamic between you and Ghost is far from smooth. Your mutual dislike is evident.

+ materialist ; prev. part ; next part.

+ a/n. Reblog with your favorite line! It would help me to grow my account !! Thank you in advance. Thank you so much for your support ! It means very much to me! Also if you want to take a little peek at the next chapter here is my ko-fi !!

The mission was a disaster. A complete, overwhelming disaster. The kind of disaster you couldn’t see coming, but the moment it hit, it shattered everything.

One moment, you were slicing through the skies, the hum of your jet’s engines a steady rhythm, your fingers dancing over the controls as you executed the flawless maneuvers you had perfected over years of training. The air was clear, the mission parameters as simple as they came: provide air support, neutralize hostile targets, ensure the ground team could complete their objective. But the next second, the world went to hell.

A sudden, violent jolt rocked the cockpit, throwing your body against the harness with a force that left your chest heaving. The world flipped upside down, disorienting you completely. A flash of fire filled your peripheral vision, bright and blinding, followed by a gut-wrenching screech as metal collided with metal in a way that was almost deafening. The jet’s frame shuddered violently, groaning under the brutal assault, and the overwhelming sensation of chaos washed over you. Your hands were glued to the controls, but the jet seemed to have a mind of its own, fighting against your every attempt to regain stability. Your heart pounded in your chest, blood thundering in your ears. You could feel the vibrations reverberating deep into your bones, every tiny tremor amplifying the danger you were in. The pressure of the impact intensified everything — time seemed to stretch and bend, and your vision blurred in the haze of panic. The cockpit felt as though it were collapsing around you, the warning lights flashing in a strobe-like effect, further disorienting you. The world outside the glass cockpit was a haze of flames and smoke, and you couldn’t tell up from down.

Alarms screamed — louder than the deafening roar of the jet’s dying engine. It was a shrill, unbearable sound, drilling into your skull, pounding relentlessly, and making it impossible to think clearly. You could feel the shrieks vibrating through your teeth, a physical sensation that made every nerve in your body stand on end. Red lights blinked frantically across the console, flashing in a chaotic frenzy, illuminating the darkness around you like some twisted, warning beacon. The acrid scent of burning fuel seeped into the cockpit, thick and suffocating, and you could taste it in the back of your throat. It was like inhaling poison. Your eyes watered as the smoke began to fill the confined space, but your focus remained fixed on the instruments, trying desperately to read them, to understand what was happening. Your brain struggled to process the data flashing in front of you, but it was a blur, impossible to make sense of. The dashboard flickered and sputtered, flicking between life and death, before finally going black. It was a final warning. The jet was done.

Then, the adrenaline hit. It surged through your veins like a live wire, electrifying every muscle, every nerve in your body. It shot through you with such force that it made you dizzy, sharpening your senses to a level of clarity that was both terrifying and necessary. Every fiber of your being was alive with panic and instinct, the fight-or-flight response taking over completely. Your hands were already moving before your mind could even fully comprehend the danger. There was no time to waste. The instinct to survive kicked in, and everything else — everything else that was even remotely important — became secondary.

You didn’t think, you just acted. Your fingers fumbled, trembling with a mix of terror and resolve, as you grabbed the ejector seat lever. Your palms were slick with sweat, but you didn’t hesitate. You pulled it. The world around you exploded as the ejector seat launched you violently from the cockpit. Your body jerked so hard it felt like your bones might snap, the force of it slamming against your ribs. The breath was knocked out of you, a harsh, gut-wrenching gasp escaping your lungs. The world outside became a blur of motion. The air rushed by you in a deafening whoosh, the speed and force of the fall too fast to process. For one split second, you felt like you were suspended in time, weightless, as if the world had gone completely still. There was nothing but you, the terrifying feeling of falling, and the jagged edges of the chaos you had just escaped. Your body trembled in the void, your senses still reeling from the jolt, your mind scrambled as you tried to focus on the parachute deployment. But it was as though time itself had frozen, and every movement, every breath, every heartbeat felt too loud, too real.

Then came the chaos of descent.

The world seemed to explode around you as your parachute deployed with a deafening snap that tore through the air, a sound so loud it rattled your bones. The violent jerk yanked you upward, your body suddenly weightless before it was yanked down again with an immense force that tugged at your very core. The harness dug into your shoulders and waist as the chute unfurled, but it wasn’t enough to steady you. You were tossed into a wild, uncontrollable tumble through the air, spinning, twisting, the ground below still far too distant but rapidly approaching. Every second felt like an eternity. The wind ripped at your body, biting at your skin and pulling at your limbs as though trying to tear you apart. Your clothes flapped against your body, the parachute above you billowing and flapping in defiance. You felt your muscles scream in protest as they strained against the g-force, your arms and legs struggling to adjust to the intense pressure.

The air, thick with the bitter scent of smoke and fire, tore at your face, stinging your eyes, making it impossible to see anything clearly. The pressure against your chest felt like it might crush you, but there was no time to think about that. The wind was like a living thing, battering at you, pushing you in every direction. Each gust threatened to throw you off course, each violent movement of your body felt like a mistake, like something more was trying to go wrong. You couldn’t control it. You couldn’t stop it.

The trees below rushed toward you, their jagged, skeletal forms appearing far too close, far too fast. A thick forest of sharp edges and twisting trunks, a maze of branches, waiting to snatch you from the sky. You couldn’t outrun them. You couldn’t avoid them. Every breath felt ragged, torn from you by the sheer speed of your descent. The trees loomed larger with every passing second, their dark outlines becoming more defined, their dangerous spires more menacing.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat a loud echo in your ears as the ground below you—the earth, the rocks, the forest floor—rushed up at you with terrifying speed. The ground was coming for you fast, and there was nothing you could do to stop it. No more time for maneuvering, no more time to brace yourself. The world spun uncontrollably, a dizzying blur of green, brown, and sky.

You braced for impact.

But when it came, it was worse than you had imagined.

The ground hit you like a violent slap, a crushing blow that rattled every bone in your body. Your back slammed into the earth with such force that it stole the breath from your lungs. Your chest felt like it might cave in, a sharp pain shooting up your spine, and your legs screamed with a burning ache that was almost unbearable. The parachute tangled around your body like a cruel, suffocating vice, pulling you and twisting you into the dirt. For a moment, the world went dark with the sheer intensity of the hit, the pain radiating outwards, too much to process, too overwhelming to think through.

Your body was an alien thing—heavy, unresponsive, bruised. Each breath felt like a labor, every gasp like a struggle against an invisible force trying to keep you down. The air was thick and heavy in your lungs, the sharp smell of dirt and pine piercing the haze in your mind. You could feel your heart racing, each beat thunderous in your chest as you forced yourself to sit up. Your vision was swimming, the edges of the world flickering as you tried to focus. The trees above you were swaying, as though they were the ones in motion, not you.

It was a slow process, forcing your limbs to obey, to move, to pull you out of the wreckage of your parachute. Your head felt heavy, your thoughts fogged and slow, but you had to move. You couldn’t afford to lie here. The world felt like it was spinning, the adrenaline still thrumming through your veins, but beneath it all, a sickening realization crept in: you were deep in enemy territory. Alone. Stranded. And if you didn’t move now, you might not have another chance.

The world exploded into pain. The canopy of your parachute tangled in the branches, jerking you violently. You slammed into the ground, the earth unforgiving, and your body was jolted like a ragdoll. Every inch of your skin screamed in pain as you hit, your head spinning from the shock. There was no moment of clarity, no time to adjust. Your arms and legs felt like they were made of lead, useless weights in your effort to regain control.

Your body felt wrong. Every part of you ached — throbbing, burning, sharp pain radiating through your spine. Your ribs felt bruised, your knees scraped and raw. You took a gasping breath, and pain seared through your chest. Your hands were slick with sweat, trembling from the shock. Everything inside you told you to stay still, to breathe, but your mind was already working overtime. You couldn’t stop now. You were deep in enemy territory, alone, and that realization hit harder than the crash itself.

You fumbled for your comms device, fingers trembling and slick with sweat, the sharp sting of panic clawing at your chest. Each movement felt sluggish, heavy — like you were dragging yourself through thick mud. Every breath was ragged, strained, the aftershocks of the crash still reverberating in your bones. Your chest tightened with each passing second, fear creeping into your mind, suffocating the clarity you desperately needed. The line crackled and hissed, the static scratching in your ear like nails on a chalkboard, and for a moment, all you could hear was the echo of your own breathing and the deafening silence of your surroundings.

Then, a voice came through, low and firm, cutting through the fog of panic with a force that made your heart skip a beat.

“Pilot, do you copy?”

It was rough. Harsh. Too familiar. It was Ghost.

You froze for a moment, relief washing over you, mingled with frustration. You could hear the underlying tension in his voice even through the crackle of the comms, and a knot of unease twisted in your stomach. He was still out there, still alive, and that fact alone kept the fear from drowning you. But you knew you couldn’t afford to let your guard down, not even for a second. Not here. Not now.

“Ghost?” You managed to rasp out, voice hoarse and strained, the words barely escaping through the fog in your head. The adrenaline was still pumping, but your body felt like it was shutting down around you. Every muscle ached. Every breath felt like a battle. "Yeah, I copy. I’m... I’m down."

The pause on the other end felt too long, stretching into something heavy and suffocating. You could almost feel the weight of his eyes on you, though you couldn’t see him. The silence felt like an eternity, each second stretching longer than the last, until your chest tightened, your pulse quickened.

“You’re a damn mess.” His voice was harsh, a sharp observation, just like before. It cut through the air, but there was something beneath it. Something deeper. A flicker of concern? Or maybe annoyance? The words stung, but they didn’t carry the usual coldness. It was the first time in all the chaos that you’d heard a crack in his usual detached demeanor.

You swallowed thickly, the bitter taste of adrenaline and smoke still in your mouth. A strained, breathless laugh bubbled up from your chest, more out of reflex than humor. The sound was harsh, raw, and it left a bad taste on your tongue. “Yeah, well, I don’t crash on purpose,” you said, your voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. Your body screamed at you to rest, to lie still, to let the pain fade, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t afford to. Not when you were alone, stranded in enemy territory, with only the faintest thread of communication keeping you tethered to the world you knew.

You tried to shift your position, desperate to free yourself from the tangled parachute that had caught around your legs like a vice. But every movement was agony. Your body was stiff, unresponsive, each small action sending another wave of pain crashing through you. The weight of your parachute pulled at you, the fabric constricting, making your limbs feel heavier, less cooperative. Your head swam, dizziness threatening to overtake you, but you gritted your teeth and pushed it back, forcing yourself to focus.

Survival. That’s all that mattered now.

Your hands shook as you gripped the parachute, struggling to free yourself from its suffocating grip. The forest around you was eerily quiet, the stillness of it all adding to the unease that settled over you. Your mind raced — how much time did you have before the enemy found you? Where was Ghost? Could you trust him to get to you in time?

But for now, you couldn’t waste time on questions. You had to keep moving. Had to keep fighting.

You needed to survive.

The line crackled again, and this time, when his voice came through, it was softer — more deliberate, but still carrying the weight of something unspoken, something buried beneath the surface.

“I’m coming to get you. Stay put.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a split second, your chest tightened with the force of them. The sound of his voice — rough and steady — cut through the haze of panic that had clouded your mind. For the first time since the crash, you allowed yourself to breathe. A shaky exhale left your lips, almost like you were afraid to believe it. But you did. You had to.

Relief came in slow, uncertain waves, fragile and trembling like a leaf caught in a storm, but it was enough to quiet the panic gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. For a moment, everything slowed, and you realized you were not alone. And despite the edge in his tone, despite the usual distance he kept, there was something solid, something unwavering in his promise. It wasn’t just words — it was a commitment. He was coming. He wasn’t leaving you here.

You didn’t realize how badly you needed to hear it until that very second.

"Understood," you whispered, barely above a breath, your voice strained and raw from the physical exertion, the tension still clinging to every word. The faint crackle of his breathing was the only thing on the other end, but it felt like more. It felt like an unspoken bond, something connecting you beyond the battlefield. The distance between you was vast, and yet, for that fleeting moment, you weren’t as alone as you thought. It wasn’t just survival now; it was the odd comfort of knowing you were not completely abandoned out here in the chaos.

You let your head fall back against the dirt, your body still trembling violently from the crash. Every inch of you screamed with pain, like your bones were made of shattered glass, your muscles too raw to move without protest. You knew you needed to move, to get up, to find shelter, but it felt like the world was pressing in on you. Each breath was a struggle, your lungs aching, the air thick in your chest, as if it was harder to pull the oxygen into your body. You could feel the ground beneath you, rough and uneven, but it gave you something to anchor yourself to. Your fingers dug into the dirt, desperately trying to keep yourself grounded, to ignore the dizziness threatening to overwhelm you.

The silence that followed felt almost suffocating, the only sounds the low rustle of wind through the trees and the occasional shift of your weight against the forest floor. But it wasn’t peaceful. It was oppressive. Every snap of a twig, every distant murmur of movement, had your body tensing, your muscles locking in place. You didn’t know where they were, how close the enemy might be, or how long you had before they found you. But you knew one thing, something that burned like a truth carved into your bones: you couldn’t afford to be found. Not now. Not like this.

You had to stay alive.

You had to stay awake.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears, louder and louder, a constant reminder of the fragility of this moment. You could feel the adrenaline still pulsing through your veins, keeping you on edge, keeping your senses heightened. It was a curse and a blessing — your body was running on pure instinct, but it left you feeling raw, exposed, as if every nerve was too sensitive, too alert.

The air around you smelled thick with pine and earth, the forest surrounding you alive with quiet tension. But it wasn’t a peaceful quiet—it was the kind of stillness that came before something terrible, the calm before a storm. Every second stretched into eternity. Every movement had you on edge, your breath catching in your throat with each new sound. You couldn’t tell if the footsteps you heard were the wind or something much worse. Every shadow that flickered at the corner of your vision made your body stiffen, your pulse rising.

You weren’t safe here.

And despite the pain, despite the exhaustion, you forced yourself to move, to shift your weight, to get a sense of your surroundings. The ground was uneven, the forest thick with undergrowth, and you knew staying where you were would make you a sitting target. But every step felt like an insurmountable effort, every shift in position sending new waves of pain through your body. You had to stay alert. You had to keep your head clear.

There was no room for weakness. Not here. Not in enemy territory.

You couldn’t afford to die.

In the stillness that surrounded you, with your thoughts still reeling from the crash, your mind couldn’t help but wander back to Ghost. His words, cold and clipped as they were, had taken on a new weight. I’m coming to get you. The promise had hung in the air between you like a lifeline, offering something you hadn’t expected—a shred of reassurance. You had always seen him as the silent, unapproachable figure, the one who stood apart from everyone else. Cold. Distant. Untouchable. His mask wasn’t just for protection — it was a barrier, one he used to keep others at arm’s length.

But in that moment, when he’d said he was coming for you, something had shifted. Maybe it was the way he had said it, or maybe it was the tone beneath the words — something unspoken that made you wonder if there was more to the man behind the mask. More than just the soldier. You tried to push the thought away, but it clung to you like the weight of the wreckage pressing against your chest. Maybe, just maybe, there was humanity beneath the layers of war and duty he wrapped himself in.

But you couldn’t afford to dwell on it now. Not in a place like this, with the silence pressing against you like a vice. Survival. That was all that mattered. The weight of the present — the pounding in your chest, the searing pain in your body, the relentless fear that wouldn’t leave your mind — demanded all of your focus. There was no room for distractions. No room for thoughts of what Ghost might be, or what he might feel.

You shifted again, biting back a wince as the sharp pain shot through your spine. Every muscle screamed in protest, your body stiff with the aftermath of the crash. You gritted your teeth, trying to ignore the dizziness that pulled at your senses. The forest around you felt suffocating, every rustling of leaves, every creak of a branch, amplifying the tension in your veins. Stay still. You couldn’t afford to move too much. Every rustle, every shift in position could give your location away. You had to stay hidden. You had to stay alert.

But somewhere, buried beneath the fear and the pain, there was a glimmer of hope. It was small, fragile — more like a whisper than a shout — but it was enough to give you strength. Ghost was coming. He had promised. And for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe it. You weren’t alone. Not completely.

You forced yourself to settle, to breathe deeply, even though every breath felt like it tore through you. The pain was a constant companion now, but you wouldn’t let it take over. Not yet. Not until you were safe. You pulled yourself together, even as your body screamed for rest. You needed to stay awake, to stay aware, to keep the focus sharp.

Survive.

And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you thought.

tah list : @jajouska @hao-ming-8 @pinkpookiebear

[mightyneinrewatch]

FAQ

Someone pointed out to me that asks were turned off, oops... that has been fixed now. Feel free to ask me anything! If I don't respond right away, forgive me, I have a day job and must pay bills, but I'll at least check in once a week when I'm rewatching the episodes myself.

Just to answer a few questions I've gotten so far:

There is no need or obligation to tag spoilers. (With the sheer number of people here who will be repeat watchers, it will be impossible to avoid spoilers, and I don't want anyone policing anyone on what tags they use - I want everyone to have fun!)

If you WISH to tag spoilers as a courtesy to new watchers, I would suggest using #nein again spoilers just so we all know it's specifically spoilers for the rewatch. (And if you are a first time watcher, WELCOME! I hope you enjoy the ride! Please tell us your thoughts as we go!)

PLEASE keep negativity to a minimum, meaning if you dislike a particular ship or canon event or whatever, I would only ask that you keep it out of the #nein again tag? That tag is for sharing LOVE of this campaign, so similarly I would ask not to see too many comparisons to other campaigns. (I have no intent to actually police any of this or call anyone out, and this is also NOT a request for ANYONE ELSE to police it either. I can and will use the block button.)

I am currently queuing up posts with the episode links, which will go out one episode at a time every Sunday at 8:00 am Mountain Time for the US (which I believe is 10:00 am Eastern Time for the US, and that's as far as my knowledge of time zones go) This is not a "live watch" per se. Think of it more like a book club. We all have a whole week to watch the episode and chat about it. Set your own schedule, and of course PLEASE don't feel bad if you fall behind! If you have a bad week, it's COMPLETELY okay to just skip the episode for that week and catch the next one. Or take a break for a few months! Or if you get REALLY into it, you can watch ahead at your leisure. No one is grading you on how well you manage to keep up.

On a very cool note, I checked the follower count AND WE ARE SOMEHOW ALREADY AT OVER 200 FOLLOWERS??? MY GOD, THAT IS INCREDIBLE! Very happy to join you all on this journey!

Special thanks to @sethdomade for mentioning the idea of a "dracula daily" version of a Mighty Nein rewatch! (That I'm now realizing I basically hijacked the idea and didn't even ask them at all if that was okay, I AM SO SORRY, I guess I'm asking forgiveness instead of permission??)

Drop any other questions in the ask box, and I WILL SEE YOU ALL TOMORROW FOR EPISODE ONE!

[darkfictionjude]

OH BY GODS THAT ENDING FUCK ME I WAS THINKING ABOUT COMING HERE TO COMPLAIN ABOUT HOW BROKE UP MY HEART WAS AFTER LORCAN DISMISSED CROWNY AND ASK YOU WHAT IS THE KINDEST ROMANCE ROUTE BECAUSE I CAN'T TAKE LORCANS ANGST ANYMORE (not without some fluffy in between) BUT THAT ENDING GOD DAMMIT JUDE WHAT A WAY TO END WITH A B A N G!

Perfection, just 🤌

... but without screaming this time, could you please kindly rank the kindest to roughest (?) romance routes - separating kind/antagonize? I really need a break from Lorcan abandoning us at the dance floor 😭 (when I saw the "me and you" line I knew Crowny was COOKED, BWAH)

Also, I don't think I realized how fucked up everyone was until now. Yeah I know, sHoCkInG, but when Irme admitted he knew about James stunt and did nothing? Not nice man, not nice. No one coming after them to see if they were okay after? Can't blame Lorcan, he hates our guts, but Nia is/was Crowny's BFF... should mean something right? And everyone calling debts on each other in the library? Also fantastic, I love fights (I don't, but do). I don't know how friendship points make that interactions different (do they?) cause every opportunity I have I go to that sweet little red heart in Lorcan's scenes (and he still hates me 😭😂)

Hmmmm so let me see. Kindest is Nia friendly, then Lorcan friendly, then Imre friendly. Then it’s Nia antagonistic, Lorcan and Imre

What’s interesting about you saying you didn’t realize it is that another reader kind of said the same thing too on the itchio comment section. It was surprising to me to see the surprise hahah cause I thought it was obvious this was coming since every time these four are together they fight. The first time they don’t is in this episode when they’re costume shopping. I feel like they didn’t go after crowny because they don’t know how to comfort them all of them are kind of bad at it 😭 they probably thought it was best to leave crowny alone as a way to not make it worse? Not the best method ofc

I’ll give you some hope. Lorcan doesn’t really hate crowny any more. I don’t think he’s realized it yet but his actions (when you don’t mention his parents, orla) show he doesn’t dislike crowny’s presence

So yeah their way of showing the have crowny’s back is either killing James and/or helping crowny not go to prison cause they willing got involved in something that could fuck up their lives too. I think it counts a lot that none of them hesitated to get rid of the evidence there was no “crowny killed him it’s not my business” or “we should call the police” they were ride or die. If that doesn’t show loyalty I don’t know what does

[mysterialistic]

Review/Ramble on Yingdu and Overall Thoughts

Okay, first of all, I think the fandom needs to chill a bit, especially on Twitter/X, because some people are overdramatizing the criticism from others. Criticizing a piece of media doesn’t mean you hate it, nor does it mean it’s bad—it just means it didn’t fully meet your expectations, and you have a different opinion. It’s as simple as that. Of course, I believe criticism should always come from an objective standpoint, not just for the sake of complaining.

Having said, let’s start rambling!

Yingdu had an amazing start. Those first few minutes, transitioning from the basketball game straight into the scene of Cheng Xiaoshi’s death, were so well done. Overall, the first episode was fantastic—the perfect mix of drama and tension. It answered some of our lingering questions before bringing us back to the Season 1 format, where they tackled individual cases, only for it to all build up to the arc’s main conflict. I won’t go into every single episode since that would make this way too long, but I had to highlight episode 1 because it was my favorite.

There were several aspects of these episodes that I really enjoyed. Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang’s bond was portrayed so well—every little moment between them, every dialogue exchange—it perfectly showed why these two are so willing to risk their lives for each other. I looked forward to seeing their interactions every week, and I was never disappointed.

Xia Fei was also a great addition, and I’m glad they didn’t kill off his character like many people theorized, because he has so much potential. I really enjoyed his complexity—he’s a spy, but he has his own morals and values. He dislikes Liu Xiao, yet he has a close bond with Vein despite his odd personality. He’s clearly intelligent, and I think that will really shine in Season 3. He already seems to suspect something, and I have no doubt he’ll get to the bottom of it. Right now, he’s angry and confused about what happened to Vein, convinced that someone killed him. But how will he react if (or when) he finds out that Vein was the one who initially killed Cheng Xiaoshi—one of his other friends, and probably the only truly innocent one? And don’t even get me started on how he’ll react when he finds out that Lu Guang tried to kill Vein or that Vein is still alive. I’m excited to see where this goes.

That said, I was a little disappointed that we didn’t get to see much of Vein and Liu Xiao. We mostly just saw what we already knew—two shady guys with their own agenda, pretending to be friendly. As an introduction, it was fine, but considering how much attention the promotional material gave them, I really thought we’d see more. Still, I don’t have a huge issue with it since they’ll obviously play a bigger role in Season 3. Liu Xiao, Vein, Li Tianchen, and possibly Xia Fei—a group of unstable individuals as antagonists… well, good luck, Lu Guang!

Now, something that does bother me about Yingdu is the inconsistencies between its plot and what we’ve seen in Seasons 1 and 2. For me, this was the laziest part of the writing, because no, Link Click isn’t flawless. In fact, no piece of media is. But in Link Click’s case, some of the flaws were painfully obvious. With every episode that aired, I kept thinking, “okay, this has to be an alternate timeline”, because so many little details just didn’t fit with the main storyline. The most obvious one is how Cheng Xiaoshi awakened his powers—he did it on his own, yet in Season 1, it was shown that he didn’t know he could do this. That makes absolutely no sense unless he has selective amnesia, which is definitely not the case lol. As for the inconsistencies with his parents, that could at least be explained by the promise he made to his mother to “not get involved any further.” He clearly remembers that promise and is likely just keeping everything he learned a secret.

Speaking of parents… Damn, Cheng Xiaoshi’s parents are awful lmao. I hated how his father acted like he was the victim, justifying his actions with, “yes, I abandoned my child, but now I take care of other children to make up for my mistakes.” That’s just… bad parenting. I actually made a whole analysis about it in another post. And then there’s Cheng Xiaoshi’s mother. The way she dismissed her son’s feelings and abandonment issues with a casual “oh yeah, it was wrong of me not to say goodbye, but who cares? That’s in the past” felt so off. The entire scene with her was weird—the humor felt misplaced. I was expecting something more emotional, more dramatic—anything but this. But based on what I’ve seen, almost no one liked her, so if the creators were hoping we’d find her eccentricity endearing, this introduction definitely wasn’t the best. Since Season 1, we’ve been repeatedly shown how deeply this abandonment affected Cheng Xiaoshi, and this is the reunion we got? It was… underwhelming.

Now, something I really, really loved was how they handled Lu Guang in this arc. From start to finish, it was just so good—his reaction when he first saw Cheng Xiaoshi again, his nightmares and PTSD, the way he carefully planned everything to manipulate events and create change. But my absolute favorite part? How morally gray he is. He planned and actually succeeded in killing Vein, eliminating the threat (though he’s definitely going to freak out when he finds out Vein is still alive). That cold smile? The scene where his hands moved like he was pulling the strings of a puppet? The way he said, “I hope we’ll never see each other again”? PERFECT. I’ve always said I wanted Lu Guang’s motivations and actions to not be entirely good. He comes across as someone selfish, willing to sacrifice others if it means protecting the people he loves—because he has the power and the knowledge to do it, and he wants his happy ending. Such a good character, I swear.

Of course, I wasn’t expecting every single question to be answered in Yingdu—that would be ridiculous lol. But I’m satisfied that the plot is finally moving forward. They gave us a piece of the puzzle—Cheng Xiaoshi’s parents, the origin of his powers, the antagonists’ apparent goal (some sort of notebook?), and hints at what we can expect in Season 3. That said, my biggest fear is that Link Click will lose its essence—the powerful message from Season 1 about how they shouldn’t intervene in the natural flow of time, no matter how painful it is, because the past and future should be left alone. Based on what Lu Guang said about the butterfly effect, we can argue that time itself is like another character—a force that, no matter how much they try to change things, always corrects itself somehow, some way. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what kind of ending I want for Link Click, but right now, I just hope it makes sense, that it isn’t forced, and that it unfolds naturally.

And… that’s all I have to say for now.

[theemissuniverse]

“DYNAMITE” HENRY HART X ENEMY FEM!READER

SUMMARY : You and Henry haven’t really gotten along since you’ve known each other. Henry’s put up with it for far too long. (Both 18, graduated high school. Relationship is sort of like Freddie and Sam from ICarly.)

CONTENT : suggestive content, slightly explicit

MASTERLIST

No one and I mean not a single soul anticipated you and Henry ever being a couple. From early childhood to the end of middle school, the two of you were kind of like enemies. You would ‘bully’ him and the two of you would argue constantly up until when the two of you graduated high school.

The only reason why the two of you spoke was because Charlotte was your best friend and Henry was her friend too. Henry couldn’t even understand how you could like Jasper more than him.

He was tired. Tired of the teasing, tired of the hitting, tired of you. Especially because he had actually no other reason to dislike you. He honestly thought you were really cool when you weren’t dishing out all your misery onto him.

Tonight? Tonight was the final straw.

You were so mad at him that you almost exposed he was Kid Danger at a party Jasper was throwing at the air n b. Henry immediately took you into a bedroom and closed the door before looking at you, furious.

He was even more mad was because the only reason why you were invited to the party was because he told Jasper to. Jasper was afraid of you and didn’t want you to come but Henry didn’t want you to feel left out.

That’s just the type of person Henry was.

He was never this angry at you. He was used to you but he was boiling with anger.

This was it.

“What the actual fuck is your problem?”

You were caught off guard. Henry wasn’t really the swearing type unless he was joking or being funny. You had to of done it.

Henry didn’t even let you speak. He just kept going. “Teasing me since elementary school? I can handle. Throwing me into lockers in middle school? I can handle. Making me get detention after you blamed me for everything you did through out high school? I can handle. But exposing my secret? My secret to the entire party for me merely existing is something I can not fucking handle anymore.”

You looked at Henry in sort of a guilty and sad way. “It wasn’t for nothing.”

“Oh it wasn’t?” Henry begins to sarcastically say. “Oh, then please tell me what the problem is! Enlighten me! I really wanna know what grinded Ms. Nothing is ever Perfect gears tonight?! Hmm? What was it?”

You looked down in shame, not even wanting to say why. “You were talking to Ashley.”

Henry was even more confused. Why did the thought of talking to Ashley bother you? “You almost exposed me…because I was talking to Ashley?”

“See, when you put it like that, it sounds bad.”

“It is bad!” Henry scoffed at you. It’s like he couldn’t believe what and who he was seeing. “See, you’re ridiculous. I don’t even know why I wanted you here at this party in the first place.”

When Henry had said that, your eyes lit up. “You wanted me here?”

“Yeah because everyone is so afraid of you and thinks you’re a….the very not nice word that starts with a ‘B’ but I’m said ‘no, she’s just going through a lot. She’s not that bad’ but you know what? You are that bad. You’re crazy! No! Insane even. And this whole thing was crazy for me to even-“

Henry was cut off abruptly by the motion of you kissing him, directly on the lips. He stood there in complete shock. The kiss was so short, he didn’t even get to appreciate how soft your lips were. How comforting they felt.

He looked at you confused. He blinked a little, trying to process what just happened. “Um…what was that?”

You bit your lip and looked down to the ground. You couldn’t even look at him. “I know I’ve been extra…I’ve always been extra it’s just…I always thought you were cute and…I kinda liked you. Even though I gave you a wedgie four times…and ate your lunch every day….and made a dog eat your homework and when you told the teacher the excuse, you got detention but…I guess that was my way of expressing that I liked you. And when I saw Ashley flirting with you and you…enjoying it…I freaked out.”

Henry was completely stunned by your confession. Never in a million years would he ever hear from your mouth that you had a crush on him. The entire time.

And then he thought about it. How every Valentine’s Day at school he would get candy grahams but never knew who it was. How quickly you reacted to him even slightly grazing your hand. How sometimes you would just stare at him and he would have to ask you if something was on his face.

And then he thought about himself. How every Valentine’s Day he secretly hoped it was you. How he hoped you didn’t mind him purposely grazing your hand just to feel your contact. How sometimes he wanted to grab you by the hips and give you the most passionate kiss you’ve ever had by the way you looked at him.

“I’m sorry, Henry. I’m sorry I’ve been a bitch. I’m sorry I ruined everything.”

Now here’s something he’d thought he never see. You were crying. Tears. Actual tears not sweat. You had never cried in front of him before. Never.

Henry bit his lip, feeling bad. Was it still justifiable for him to be angry? Yes but he finally understood at least why you’ve been acting like this towards him.

You went to try and walk away but Henry wouldn’t let you. He grabbed your arm and spun you around. This time Henry’s lips landed on yours.

It was your turn to be surprised. You didn’t think after everything the two of you went through that Henry would even remotely feel the same way as you. But he did. Every bit of it.

You pulled Henry down more since he was taller than you. Henry held onto your waist as he deeply kissed you. You were melting right in his arms. Nothing felt better than his kisses.

Henry wasn’t expecting for your hands to go to the belt on his jeans. He felt you unbutton him super quick.

You slowly took the belt off this time, grazing his abdomen with your nails softly. The gesture made Henry let out a low growl that he himself had no idea where it came from.

Henry picked you up by thighs and had you up against the wall. Held you in place while you broke the kiss to kiss and suck on his neck.

“We-shit-need to talk-damn.” The sucking on his neck made him moan relentlessly.

“Talk about what?” You asked while taking off your shirt.

“Talk about-“ Henry cut himself off when he say how good your chest looked in a tightly fitted black bra. You smirked, seeing his reaction. You took his hands and placed them on your ass.

He forced himself out of his own trance. “I don’t just want to have sex with you. I like you.”

“Then have me.”

Henry looked in your eyes and then back at your lips. All before kissing you but this time, he did it lovingly. Like you were made of glass.

You were his now. In a strange way.

[oharaslove]

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝓅𝓉.𝟤

Summary: The story of Miguel's first and only love, you. A passage through the most significant moments of your relationship.

Tags/Warnings: pre!Spiderman Miguel x Civilian!Reader + Spider!Miguel x Civilian!Reader, fem!reader, fluff, smut (Minors don't interact, please)

Word count: 8k

Note: This is part 2 of a request!! I think you can read this as a one shot, but it would be better if you read the previous part (linked below). I also recommend listening to "Sugar"-Sleep Token, It is so good (mainly in the 'you know' scene).

<<Part1 || masterlist ||

𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓸𝓷

After realising how he felt about you, Miguel tried to take a little distance. He was scared. Terrified even. He had never felt this. Never felt the need to, the urge, to make someone his.

 And that was what scared him. He was a total loser, how could someone like you want something with him?. You were perfect in his eyes, and he was far from it. You were probably experienced too, which he wasn’t. Miguel’s insecurities were at all time high. 

Besides, he couldn’t get the comments you had made the first time you met out of his head. You hated or at least disliked Valentine's day. So did he, not long ago. Damn, how things changed. 

Six months ago he dreaded the question: ‘There is someone special in your life?’, but now… 

You appeared in every thought. Your face materialised in the most random moments. If someone were to ask him that question today, his immediate answer would be yes, grinning from ear to ear. He would jump at any opportunity to talk about you.

Not every thought was happy, though. Miguel imagined countless scenarios where he came forward, pouring his heart out to you, and you didn’t feel the same way. Negative assumptions clouded his head day and night, leaving an empty feeling in his chest. He didn’t want to think about them, but there was always a voice on the back of his head tearing him down to pieces. Telling him he didn’t deserve you. He wasn’t enough. He would never be. 

His feelings were growing bigger and bigger, despite his attempts to keep them down. His chest would explode at any minute if he didn’t let them go. The words at the edge of his tongue, begging to come out. Every time he was close to you, so close he could smell your scent, which drove him crazy, he felt like throwing up. The air would be pushed out of his lungs every time you smiled at him. You stared at him with those beautiful eyes, fueling the idea that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same. 

That there was a possibility. 

It didn’t help that, due to the advances on both of your researches, you had to stay more time in the lab. Meaning, it was just the two of you, for hours on end. Many would say it was the perfect opportunity, but what if you said no? What if you secretly hated him? What if–

“Miguel?” you asked gently, moving closer to where he was standing. He had been staring off at the wall for at least five minutes, unmoving. He was barely blinking, and his hands were sweaty. “Are you okay?” you continued, moving even closer. 

Miguel instinctively took a step back, creating distance between the two of you. You were intoxicating. He shut his eyes hard, trying to clear his thoughts. While doing so, he missed the hurt look over your face. 

“Yeah, I… I am fine, don’t worry” he whispered. He clutched the edge of the table. Come on Miguel, take a grip on yourself. 

“Are you…, are you sure? You don’t look okay” You fidgeted with the hem of your sweater.

“Yes” he huffed. His breathing became more erratic. Miguel dropped his head, eyes remaining shut, hoping to block you off. 

But he couldn’t. 

He couldn’t tell you how much you affected him, even though he wished to. All he wanted was to hug you, make you feel how you made him feel. But no. He couldn’t. Shouldn’t. 

“Did I…” you began, your voice trembling. “Did I do something wrong?”. You sniffed, making Miguel open his eyes immediately and look at you. 

You were looking down. Tears streaming down your cheeks, despite your efforts to keep them at bay. Your hands, barely visible, pull at the end of your sweater, making yourself smaller. Trying to hide. 

Shit. “No no no” Miguel whispered, hurriedly walking towards you. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to hug you, but would that be alright? Or, should he just go for a supportive hand to the shoulder? So, that’s what he did. “You.. you did nothing wrong. Hey, please. Look at me” he mumbled, barely audible. Thankfully, he was closer than he realised. His mouth only inches away from the crown of your head. He was basically towering over you. 

You looked up. Teary eyes locking into his. Trembling lips mumbling incoherent things, a lot of ‘sorrys’ and ‘please’. Miguel’s heart broke. He had done this. Him. No one else. He was so focused on his own feelings, on not getting hurt, that he didn’t realise how his actions were affecting you.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Miguel cooed, drawing figures with his thumb on your shoulder. Hand, that he noted, you hadn’t pushed away nor seemed uncomfortable about.  

You leaned into his touch. Your cheek grazing his hand, never breaking eye contact. Miguel’s eyes traveled from focusing on one eye to the other, to your nose, your mouth, everything. He wanted to memorize your face in case this was the end. While doing so, ever so lightly, his hand drifted upwards, caressing your cheek, without realising. 

You closed your eyes and hummed, enjoying the feeling. His hands were sweaty, but he was warm, and he smelled nice. Your breath slowed down, calming yourself. You nuzzled your cheek further. She’s adorable, Miguel thought, lost in how ethereal you were. His body moving on its own.  

Miguel's eyes went wide. A moment of clarity letting him be aware of his actions. He wanted to retreat his hand, stop touching you, but at the feeling of the slight pull movement from his hand, yours instinctively wrapped around his wrist gently, keeping him there. 

You opened your eyes slowly. Small droplets of water hanging from your lashes. Your eyes searched his, a message clear on them. Stay. “Please” you begged. Your words vibrated against his skin. Your cheek squeezed against his hand. Your eyes big, like a puppy begging for treats. 

Miguel left out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. His shoulders instantly relaxed. The worried lines on his face dissipated, and a small smile pulled at the edge of his lips. He didn’t want to leave, he would stay how and where you wanted for eternity. All you had to do was ask. 

He had a feeling this was the night, and the conversation wasn’t going to be short. So, better get comfortable. 

 “Come, sit” he said, retreating his hand slowly, trying not to startle you, before slightly bending down to grab the nearest stool behind you. He gently placed his hands against your shoulders guiding you down. 

You sat down, putting your feet on the bar and tugging them closer to your chest. Placing your chin on top of your knees. Miguel sat down in front of you, leaving a decent space between the two. 

Your eyes were still glassy from crying. Miguel felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. That someone being himself. He clenched his fists over his legs, grabbing the material of his trousers. How could he be so stupid?. 

¿Qué mierda me está pasando? Miguel muttered looking down. He was losing his head. (What the hell is happening to me)

“Are you sure you are okay?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, even though it was barely audible. Did he just say that aloud? His eyes shot to yours. You were curious, he could tell, and also scared. Of him, for him? He couldn’t tell, which made him anxious.

“I am sorry if I ever crossed the line” you continued, seeing that he wasn’t responding. “I-” You dropped your arms and placed your feet on the floor, getting more comfortable in the stool, breaking eye contact while doing so. 

“It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable.” You rubbed your face, cleaning the tears and pushing back the hair stuck on your cheeks. You looked down, placing your hands together over your legs. “I just thought that,” you shrugged your shoulders. “you liked me”. You looked up slowly, biting your lip. Your face  was a little turned away, looking at him softly, eager, but also scared by the response. 

Miguel’s eyes opened like plates. Like you? Like, like like you? He was stunned. Miguel couldn’t believe his ears. You liked him! This was the greatest moment of his–

“Or maybe it was all in my head, I don’t know” you continued, turning around on the stool, giving your back to him while you hugged yourself. Asshole. How long were you silent for?

“NO!” he shouted. His first instinct was to stand up and get closer to you. “No,” he said more calmly, collecting himself. 

You turned around slowly. Fresh new tears adorning your face. Slowly, but surely, Miguel reached for your cheek. His fingers made contact with your skin, immediately feeling your warmth. As soon as he felt you lean into it, he applied pressure caressing you, wiping the tears away. 

“I’m sorry.” He began. “I… I am a loser” Miguel scanned your face. He couldn’t back out now. 

“You don’t–” you wiped the side of your face with the back of your sleeve, still leaning onto his hand. ”Don’t seem like one to me” You placed your hand on top of his, melting into his touch.

“Maybe, but I am” He sighed, looking at your face. You were so beautiful. He needed to sit down. He could feel his whole body trembling. Miguel was nervous. Even more nervous than when he interviewed for Alchemax. He looked back, spotting the forgotten stool. He wasn’t leaving your touch again, so he reached with his foot and pulled it towards him. 

He sat down, much closer now, your legs brushing against each other. The proximity was exhilarating. He could smell your perfume. Feel your warmth under the palm of his hand. He could see the way your chest went up and down from your breathing. How your lashes gently touched the top of your cheeks every time you blinked. 

Miguel was charmed by you. If you told him you were a witch who had cast a spell on him, he would believe it. No doubt in his mind. 

Focus Miguel, he thought. This was a golden opportunity, and he couldn’t let it slip away. His eyes landed on his hand, gently stroking the skin of your cheek. You were so soft and warm. Miguel could feel your eyes staring at him, but he couldn’t look at them. Not now. He needed time to be bolder, to build the guts to pour his heart out to you. 

“Miguel” you whispered. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I understand.”

Miguel moved his hand, breaking away from your grasp. He moved down the curvature of your face. The back of his fingers leaving goosebumps in their way. He grabbed your chin gently, his thumb centimeters away from your lips. Hovering. Oh, how he wished he had the experience. The bravery. The audacity to just dive in and capture your lips with his. Say everything with his mouth that words couldn’t express. Tangle his tongue with yours instead of it tangling with the thoughts running through his head.

“I am a loser” he repeated, more serious this time. His focus remained on your lips. “I don’t know how to do this.” he confessed, his thumb finally making contact with the pout that had formed in your face. They were soft. They looked so kissable. He traced the shape of your mouth lightly, before using his fingers under your chin to angle your face towards his. 

His eyes finally gazed into yours. Your cheeks were redder now, skin warmer. “I’ve never done this” He whispered, inching closer. “All I know–” he gulped, looking down again, to your lips. “is that you drive me crazy. I like you, I really do”. Your noses were now brushing together. His breath fanning over your cheeks, gently moving your lashes.

His lips hovering over yours, too scared to make the final move. 

“Miguel” you pleaded, looking at him from your hooded eyes. Your mouth slightly agape. He looked up to your eyes again. There was a pause. Neither of you dared move. 

The tension was palpable in the air. Both your breaths united. Words weren’t needed in this moment, only actions. His eyes sent you a silent plea. A question. Permission to do what he wanted the most. You nodded softly, and that is all it took for him to take the leap. 

Miguel’s lips crush into yours softly. You closed your eyes, melting into his touch, and so did he. Your lips were softer than he had felt with his hands. He had done it! He was kissing you. But now, in the act, he didn’t know how far he could go. Miguel’s hand on your cheek froze, he was cupping your face lightly, but his grip faltered. 

You pulled back softly, creating distance. Miguel chased you with his lips, not wanting to let go yet. You giggled, as you moved back, staring at his cute face. It was all red and warm. His lips slightly parted, letting out puffs of air out. 

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, blinking, as in a trance. Miguel was met with your smile, that pretty smile he learnt to cherish and to look forward to. 

“It’s okay” you whispered, taking both of his hands and placing them in your waist. You shifted closer, the stool screeched against the floor. Your legs parted a little, leaving enough space for one of his own to settle there. 

You placed the palms of your hand over his chest. Your eyes trailed from his chest, to his neck, until your gazes met again. “I trust you.” you smiled. You dove back again, this time showing more confidence. 

As soon as your lips brushed against his, Miguel’s heart skipped a beat. Your hands travelled from his chest to his neck, while his were still locked around your waist. Every thought that miraculously was still in Miguel’s head, flew out of the window. All he could register was you.

 All of you. 

The way your lips brushed and pushed against his. How they slightly parted, little amounts of air leaving them, making contact against his skin. The way your hands were now playing with the curls on the back of his neck, twirling them around your fingers. Miguel groaned. The taste of you becoming unbearable. He needed more. 

Hopefully, you understood. Miguel felt your tongue against his lips, before granting you access. As the kiss deepened, the tension on his body dissipated. He could feel your hands playing with his hair, loosening his muscles. 

As every second passed, Miguel grew more confident. 

First, he squeezed your waist, testing. He didn’t want to overstep, but at the same time, he needed more. He wanted to feel your skin on his. Pull noises out of you, created by his touch. 

His hands moved up, stopping below your breasts. His thumbs slightly grazed under them. You inhaled sharply, surprised, but glad he was loosening. You too wanted him to explore more, to take you. To make you his. 

While one of his hands stayed there, squeezing and drawing figures over your sweater, the other detached from your body, before making contact with your arm. He squeezed your forearm, before tracing your arm and reaching your neck. 

Miguel grabbed your neck, taking control of the kiss. He angled you just the way he wanted, giving him more access to explore your mouth. You groaned, the vibrations traveling through Miguel’s fingers.  He pressed his thumb against your throat, the kiss becoming more passionate. 

You pulled at his hair, his sweater, everything your hands could grasp to keep him close, to pull him even closer. Miguel was feeling lightheaded, his breathing becoming more ragged, but he didn’t want to stop. He had had a taste of you, and he didn’t know if he was ready to stop. 

Every sound he coaxed out of you made him more confident. He was obsessed, as if he wasn’t already. Every caress, each touch without an exception your hands made on his body drove him nuts. His lungs were beginning to scream at him for air, so were yours, but neither made an attempt to pull back. You were in a fever dream, and you didn’t want it to stop. 

Miguel’s body was on fire. The kiss became sloppy, teeth clicking against one another. The lab wasn’t silent anymore, your breaths were heavy, both of you panting, an occasional moan erupted from you, making Miguel groan as a response every time. 

He knew if he continued, he would do things he would regret. Not entirely because of the action, but because of the timing. You were his first, he didn’t want to fuck up. He needed to go slow. 

Miguel reluctantly pulled back from the kiss. He rested his forehead on yours, his hand still around your neck, his thumb caressing your warm, and slightly sweaty skin. Both of your chests going up and down, catching your breaths. He could feel the warm air exiting your mouth hit his face, making him smile. It wasn’t a dream, you were right there, in front of him, touching him, melting under his touch. 

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, squinting, not comfortable with the now really bright light of the lab. You had been kissing for what felt like hours, his eyes had been shut all the time, basking in the feeling. 

He found you staring back at him through your lashes. A grin formed on your face once you two made eye contact. Miguel’s expression mirrored yours, he was ecstatic. His hands moved up your neck, towards your cheek, drawing figures there as well. 

“So..” you began, leaning into his touch. Your voice was a little hoarse. Gosh, you sounded so sexy. You bit your lip, looking down a little, towards Miguel’s lips. “Does this mean you like me too?” 

Miguel laughed, his whole body shaking. You giggled as well, breaking the tension on your body and in the room. Miguel cupped both sides of your face, before bringing you in for a quick peck, and a kiss to your forehead and nose. 

He pulled back, admiring you. Your smiley face squished against his hands. “Yes” he breathed out, his shoulders relaxing visible, just melting into you, feeling drawn to you. Nothing else mattered. 

The lab fell silent, you both just staring at each other. It was comforting, the feelings being out in the air. Reciprocated feelings. You liked him, and he liked you. Nothing could go wrong from now on. 

That moment of clarity made an idea pop on Miguel’s head. “So… are you free tomorrow?”

𝓗𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰

Your first date was ethereal. Miguel had decided he didn’t want to go to a restaurant, or be near people in general, knowing that both you and him preferred to be private. Instead, he arranged a nice picnic with a beautiful view. 

You had the time of your lives. Miguel had never felt so care free and light. His heart was content and he felt on cloud nine every time you laughed, you smiled at him, or kissed him. Mostly when you giggled into your kisses, he thought you were adorable, and he didn’t know how he could say goodbye to you everyday. He needed to be with you 24/7, although he knew it was best for you both to have some alone time. Don’t move too fast now Miguel, Jesus.

Three months had passed since you two confessed your feelings in the lab. Three whole months of stealing kisses from each other, dates every week, seeing each other at the lab every day, being so close that Miguel couldn’t remember his life before you. How had he lived so long without you by his side?

Miguel couldn’t believe that at first he worked by himself in the lab. You two were like one, working around each other like it was second nature. Stolen touches here and there. You wrapping your hands around his waist from the back, leaving kisses, melting his heart and still, making him blush, despite all the months of dating. 

Unfortunately, today you had a meeting elsewhere. Meaning, Miguel was alone. He was feeling a little under the weather, he didn’t like being away from you. The routine you both had broken for a day. Thanks to his mind not being present one hundred percent, he had missed how one of his co-workers messed with his machine, causing the accident. 

Miguel had been experimenting with DNA fusions, something you knew about. This particular moment, he was curious if he could split his own (you clearly weren’t there to tell him it was a stupid idea). He had no clue what he had gotten himself into, nor what his coworker had done. All he knew is that, after surviving the experiment, he felt different. Changed. 

Miguel had always been a tall, muscular guy. But, he felt stronger, more powerful. He squinted his eyes, the artificial light in the lab hurting his eyes. Weird. He was fine just some minutes ago. He went to shut the lights. When his fingers made contact with the switch, he broke it, an abnormal strength surging from his body. 

He felt wrong, he wanted to throw up. At that moment, all he could think about was you. Miguel rushed towards his things, throwing everything aside looking for his phone. Once he had it in his hands, the eyes staring back at him in the reflection of the black screen weren’t familiar. They weren’t his usual brown ones, they were red. He dropped the phone in shock, the screen shattering in pieces. 

Miguel was pissed, causing a set of talons to emerge from his fingertips, scaring him off. What am I? What should I do? What would you think? He crumpled to the ground, shaking. What was he supposed to do? You couldn’t see him like this, he couldn’t lose you. He picked up the remains of his phone, before quickly gathering all his belongings and rushing to his flat. He needed time to think, he needed to be away from people. He needed to be away from you. He couldn’t let you witness the monster he had become.

A few days went by, Miguel had had no contact with you. He didn’t go to work, he didn’t answer his phone. Nothing. Clearly, you grew worried. He had never pulled a stunt like this before. Reason why, you were now standing outside his flat door. 

“Miguel?” you called, after knocking the door a few times. No answer. “Miguel please, I know you are in there” you pleaded, worry evident in your voice. 

Miguel was pacing left to right in his living room, in front of the door. He didn’t want you to see him, but he could tell you were worried. He hated making you something else that wasn’t happy. The dilemma was making his head hurt, the light coming through the windows wasn’t helping. During the days he had been hiding, he noticed his senses had been amplified. His eyes were ten times more sensitive to the lights.

You continued banging on the door. Tears were now running down your face.

“Miguel please,” you hiccuped, each breath was harder to take in. “Please, I don’t know what I did wrong. But please, let me in. We can talk about–”

At that moment, Miguel opened the door. He couldn’t stand hearing you cry any longer. You sobbed, launching yourself to him. Your arms landing around his waist, your face burying in his broad chest. 

Miguel’s arms stayed in the air, not wanting to touch you. What if his talons came out and he hurt you? He wouldn’t bear it. Seeing your wet and flushed face from the crying was torture enough. 

You cried a little more into his chest, creating a small patch of water in his shirt. You pulled yourself together, detaching yourself from him, allowing Miguel to close the door.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from sobbing. 

You had tear stains all over your cheeks. Miguel made an attempt to caress your face, wiping them away, but he froze in the middle. He pulled his hand back. He inhaled loudly,  shutting his eyes and making fists with his hands, before turning around and going to sit on the couch. 

You stood there, a frown in your face. What had you done for him to be so mad about you?. 

“Mig?” you mumbled, too scared to make sudden moves. 

Miguel groaned, rubbing his face between his face. You approached him slowly, barely making a sound. You watched him quietly, deciding what to do. As there was no reaction, you sat down, leaving some space between you two. You reached towards him, placing a hand over his arms. 

Miguel flinched away, making you retract your arm and look down to the floor. 

“I’m sorry” you began, trying to not break down. You sniffled, you could feel the tears already forming in your eyes. “I don’t know what I did, but I am sorry”. 

Miguel ran his hands through his hair, pulling a little. He didn’t want you to blame yourself. You had done nothing wrong! But he also didn’t know how to tell you what he was. 

“You,” he began, not looking at you. “You did nothing wrong”

“Then why?” You shifted your body, facing towards him. “Why have you been avoiding me? I thought we… I thought we were doing great.” The last words were barely audible. 

“We were… we are!” he corrected himself, now facing you, but not quite catching your eye. 

You played with your fingers in your lap, resisting the urge to reach for him. “Then… why?” You looked at him expectantly, searching for his gaze. 

Miguel hesitated. He played with the material of his sweatpants. He bit his lip, his knee going up and down. He needed to tell you. Either way, this relationship was over. If he didn’t tell you, you would break up with him because who would date someone who hides everyday in their flat? And if he told you… Well, you would probably freak out, call him a monster and walk away. Both outcomes pointed to heart break. 

“I– I can’t do this” he placed his head between his hands and started to cry.

Your heart broke. You didn’t understand what was wrong, but you hated to see Miguel so sad, angry and frustrated, all at the same time. 

“Shhh it’s okay” you scooched closer, hesitating to place a comforting hand on his back, but deciding to do so anyway. 

Miguel flinched at the contact at first, but later melted into you. He leaned into you, before collapsing in your lap. He curled himself into you, his big body retracting to feet on the couch and into you. 

You wanted to cry just from the sight. You rubbed his arms lovingly, trying to calm him down. Miguel was shaking, sob after sob cursing through his body. He mumbled incoherent stuff. Strings of ‘I’m sorrys’ and something along the lines of monster. You didn’t know, nor care. All you wanted was for him to calm down, you wanted your baby to be okay. 

After a few minutes, Miguel regained composure. He could breathe normally. Your warmth was soothing. The way you run your hands through his hair, caress his cheeks, tracing his sharp cheekbones. Lifting his shirt up a little so you could run your nails down his back.

For a moment, he forgot why he was so worried. You had done this countless times, you were his safe space. He could trust you. He needed to believe you wouldn’t leave him.

Miguel placed his feet on the floor, lifting himself off you. He wiped the tears with the back of his hands, before making eye contact with you, for the first time in days. He saw all the worry lines in your face, making his heart clench. Miguel could see your sad expression, a pout in your lips. Your gazes locked, and your eyes widened. 

“Miguel! Your eyes” You reached forward, placing your hands at each side of his head, examining further. 

“I know, that’s part of the problem”

“What happened?!”

Miguel explained to you in detail what happened the day you weren’t in the lab. And, after that, he gave you a demonstration of what he had learned. He stood up and showed you his talons, as well as his fangs. Both retractable. 

You sat there, shocked, while Miguel stood in place, watching you carefully, fully expecting you to shout “Freak!” and storm out. 

You gathered your thoughts, and stood up slowly. Miguel took a sharp breath in. He was terrified. 

“Miguel” you began, looking him straight in the eye. You still had that loving stare in your eyes, that is a good sign he thought. 

You walked closer, and when you were at arms reach of him, you slapped his arms, with all your force. 

“OUCH!”

“How dare you!?” you shouted. “Do you know how scared I was?. I thought you were dead. Dead!” You grabbed the roots of your hair and pulled, now pacing from left to right in front of Miguel, while he rubbed the spot where you had hit him. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have helped you figure this out!” You threw your hands in the air, mumbling some more things, a few curse words and some other things Miguel didn’t know if they were for his ears or for yours. 

“I thought… well, maybe you would call me a monster and leave” He mumbled the last part, feeling ashamed. 

That made you stop in your tracks, snapping your head towards him. 

“Leave?” you whispered in disbelief. “Leave?” You repeated slightly louder. “In what world would I live? Oh you are so fucking oblivious. I would rather die than leave you, you asshole. I love you, and I–”

“You love me?” Miguel cut you off. His eyes opened like plates, an alarm going off in his head. 

You froze in place too, realising what you had just said. 

“I–” you gulped. “I do. I love you”

Miguel smiled. A toothy grin from ear to ear. He rushed towards you, lifting you in the air and spinning you around, not a care in the world if you bumped something. He hugged you tightly, burying his head in your neck. Once he placed you back on the ground, he grabbed your face and kissed you deeply. 

“I love you too.” he sighed. “Te amo” He pressed his forehead against yours. 

You smiled, and hit his chest playfully. “Don’t you ever pull a stunt like this ever again. You hear me?” 

“Si mi vida. Perdón” He kissed the top of your head before enveloping you in his arms. 

“I love you” you mumbled against his chest. You truly did.

Miguel was going crazy. You had been teasing him all day long. Slight touches here, caresses there. Pressing your whole body flushed against his. You were driving him insane, more than he already was. He couldn’t wait to get to his flat and let you have him, because he had to be honest with himself. He didn’t have a clue of what was going to go down. 

Yes, he had done research. But that doesn’t mean anything. Besides, he knows that things like porn aren’t realistic, so he had a rough idea, but not quite. 

The end of the work day couldn’t come fast enough. Once it was over, you guys went to a nice dinner place, had fun, enjoyed some nice food, before deciding to go back to his place.

Miguel’s leg was bouncing up and down in the car. He was nervous, and you could tell. You placed your hand on his thigh, dangerously close to where he needed you the most. 

“It’s okay Mig. We don’t have to–”

“No!” he cut you off, way too eager. “I want to.”

“Okay” you rubbed his thigh affectionately, leaving your hand there for the rest of the ride home. 

As soon as you stepped into his flat, Miguel’s lips were on your own. Sloppy, needy, warm. His hands roamed your body, tearing away the outer layers, dropping them to the floor. You doing the same with his. 

He walked you backwards into his room, never detaching his lips from yours. You bumped a couple things on the way, but neither of you cared. Once you reached the bedroom, you turned you both around, pushing Miguel towards the bed. 

His legs hit the edge of the bed, landing on it on his back. You crawled on top of him, sitting on his lap. You ran your hands over his body, from the hem of his trousers to his neck, while Miguel’s hands landed on your waist. You bent over, your chests touching, your faces centimeters away from each other. 

“Are you sure?” you asked. 

“Yes” Miguel breathed out, before grabbing the back of your head and slamming your lips together. 

The kiss got heated. Tongues exploring each others mouth, while hands explored bodies. Your whole wait was on top of Miguel, but he didn’t care. You began moving your hips, creating friction. Your center was on top of Miguel’s hard on, the only thing separating your core from him being your panties. 

Your dress had rode up over your thighs, exposing more skin for Miguel to squeeze and touch. He groaned into the kiss, the movement of your hips driving him crazy, but he needed more. His hands planted themselves in your waist, guiding your movement. Once in a while, one would sneak down to grab a handful of your ass, giving it a pinch, resulting in a moan from you. 

Your kisses moved down, kissing along his jaw, down to his neck. You sucked the skin into your mouth. Miguel inhaled shakily.

“Amoor” he grunted. 

 You smiled into his neck, biting and nipping a little more before moving down his chest. You undid the buttons of his shirt, revealing the majestic skin underneath. He had some scars thanks to being Spiderman, but he was beautiful. You could see how his muscles moved with every breath he took. 

You kissed down the middle of his chest, over his sternum. Miguel arched his back towards your mouth, enjoying the feeling. You bite down, and nipped, tracing the scars with your tongue. You moved down, parting his legs, before sinking down to your knees, your eyes in level with the tent on his trousers.

You could already tell, he was big. You could see the outline over the material. Miguel used his elbows to lift himself off the bed, getting a better view of you. You pecked his dick over his pants, gazing up at him. Miguel swallowed hard.

You massaged him on top of his pants, getting Miguel used to the feeling. He groaned, closing his eyes momentarily, but opened them when he felt you undoing his belt. He snapped his eyes open, staring at you.

“Is this okay?”

“Ye– yes” he stuttered. 

You smiled at him, before continuing your actions. After a few seconds, you freed his cock out of its confinements, pulling his pants and underwear down. It hit the bottom of Miguel’s stomach, standing proud in front of you. 

You licked your lips, staring at him, already salivating by just the sight. 

“Is it okay?” Miguel asked, breaking you from your thoughts.

“It’s perfect” you answered, and as to show him, you wrapped your hand around his tip, spreading the precum already there. 

Miguel threw his head back, your hands felt way better than his own. 

You continued to stroke him slowly, up and down. Your thumb massaging his tip, pressing at the head over his slit. Miguel was breathing heavily now, uneven. His thighs began to shake. 

You wetted your lips, and continuing your hand movements, kissed his tip, tasting the salty precum. You spit on him, before wrapping your mouth over his head, beginning to match your hand movements with your head. 

Miguel tried to keep looking at you, but the warmth of your mouth and the way your tongue ran over his slit drove him mad. His elbows gave away, his back hitting the mattress again. He fisted his sheets on his hands, curse words leaving his lips. 

“Yess, Jesus, fuck” he moaned, spurring you on. 

With your free hand, you massaged his balls. Rolling the skin over between your fingers and squeezing them. You hollow your cheeks, sucking at his shaft. You took him as far as you could, his tip hitting the back of your throat, tears forming in your eyes. 

“Oh, God, yes” Miguel breathed out. He was feeling light headed, his skin sweaty, sticking to the sheets. He could feel a knot in his lower belly, almost at the point of bursting. 

You pulled back, taking a moment to breathe, but never stopping your hands. His tip was red, precum leaking from it. Tons of it. He was close, you could tell. He was lasting more than you would have thought, to be honest. 

“I’m closee” Miguel choked out. “Please” he begged, opening his eyes slightly to stare down at you.

You continued jerking him off. Your mouth going to his balls, sucking at them, before licking a stripe down the side, following the most prominent vein, reaching his tip. You gave a few kitten lips before putting it in your mouth again. Miguel’s head flew back, eyes shutting hard. 

He moaned your name over and over. Strings of “Yes, right there” “Fuck” and your name falling from his lips. All of a sudden, his vision went black. Cum spurted in your mouth, while you tried to swallow most of it. 

Miguel’s chest was heaving up and down, trying to catch his breath. He opened his eyes slowly, looking down at you, at the same moment you took his now softening cock out of your mouth, a string of saliva and cum still connecting the two. 

“Fuck” he mumbled. You looked so pretty. 

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, smiling at him and winking. You stood up slowly, letting your dress fall off your shoulders leaving you only with your panties on. You pulled them down your legs, kicking them behind once they reached your feet. 

Miguel was star struck. He couldn’t believe you could be more perfect than you already were. But you could. Before him, he was seeing a goddess. He was about to be fucked by a goddess. 

You straddled his lap once more, now without any item of clothing between your skin. You could already feel his dick hardening again against you. Miguel’s hand flew to your neck, bringing you in for a heated kiss. You moaned into his mouth, moving your hips to create the much needed friction you craved. His cock rubbed against your clit with each movement. 

His hands explored the new skin available, being cautious at first, but growing bolder. He squished your tits, rolling your nipples between his fingers, even pinching them, making you groan into his mouth. He swallowed every sound you made, and so did you. 

You broke this kiss, running your nails down his chest, looking between your bodies. You needed him inside of you, and he wanted you to be around him. He wanted to feel all of you. 

“Condom?” You breathed out, pulling back the hairs stuck to the sweat of your forehead. 

“In the drawer,” Miguel answered.

You climbed down his body, for a split second Miguel missed your warmth, but before he could complain about it, you were already back, motioning him to get more comfortable in the bed, before seating back in his legs. You opened the squared package, pulling the condom out. 

You looked at it, and back at Miguel. “Are you really sure?”

Miguel nodded, the anticipation making his brain fuzzy. He didn’t think he could speak right now. 

You nodded, positioning yourself better. You stroke him a few times, before rolling the condom on. You lifted yourself up, using Miguel’s chest as support, while his arms flew to your waist to help you. You aligned his dick with your entrance. You were already wet from the anticipation and just making him come. He sounded so pretty, breaking under your touch. Cumming just for you, and only you. 

You rubbed his tip along your slit, tapping your clit a few times, before aligned it with your hole. You breathed in, before sinking slowly. He stretched you out so perfectly, it stinged a little, but it felt so good. 

Your mouth and Miguel’s fell open. It was so intense, finally being connected. You reached down, your hips flushed with his. Miguel’s nails were digging into your waist, while your hands squeezed his shoulders. 

You got used to his size before starting to move slowly, rocking your hips back and forth. Miguel let out a shaky breath, watching your movements. 

“Touch me” you purred, leaning over and taking his ear lob between your teeth, your breath tickling the side of his face. 

One of his hands stayed glued to your waist, while the other played with your breasts, alternating between the two. You nipped at his neck, leaving hickies and bite marks where no one could see them, only you. 

Miguel whined, he was enjoying the feeling, but he needed more. 

“Please, more” He begged, his hand squeezing harshly on one of your tits. 

You sat up straight, placing your hands flat on his chest for support. You lifted yourself up, leaving only half of his cock inside of you, before sinking back down. You both moaned at the same time, he felt so good inside of you. 

You kept doing that a couple more times, while Miguel forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching how his dick disappeared inside of you. Once you got used to it, you set up a rhythm, using Miguel’s chest and shoulders as support. Miguel’s hands went back to your waist, while his head flew back. His mouth was slightly open, groans and moans feeling up the room, combined with the sound of skin slapping against skin. 

Miguel’s sounds were turning you on so badly, you could barely concentrate. He grunted your name, moaned it so loudly you were sure even the neighbours could hear. You weren’t any better. His dick was hitting just the right places, stretching you out just the way you liked it. 

“Fu-Fuck” you stuttered, shutting your eyes. You were getting close, and so was Miguel, by the way his cock twitched inside of you. 

“Mig– I’m close” You cried out, the pace you had been setting faltering. 

“Me too” he said, through gritted teeth.

His hips had begun to lift from the mattress, meeting yours halfway, helping you reach both your orgasms. 

“Migg” you whimpered, slumping forward.

Miguel opened his eyes slowly, as much as he could. Your nails were digging on his shoulders, while he had a death grip on your waist. One of his hands caressed your stomach, disappearing between your bodies, his thumb making contact with your clit. You jolted forward, the stimulation overwhelming you. 

Miguel began drawing tight circles on the num, matching his and yours broken rhythm. He could feel you were closed, your pussy was squeezing his cock so good, getting him over the edge. 

“Beba” he mumbled, before throwing his head back and cumming inside of the condom, making you fall over the edge and come around him.

You collapsed on his chest, his thumb rubbing small figures still in your clit while you rock your hips in circles, coming down from your high. 

You stilled your hips, while Miguel his hand from between you, placing it in your back and rubbing it up and down, with the little power he had left. You stayed silent for a couple minutes, recovering. Both of your bodies covered in sweat, and the both of you with smiles over your face. 

You lifted your head slightly, placing your chin on his chest, looking at him. He looked so peaceful, breathing slowly from his nose, eyes closed. You pulled back a strand of hair stuck to his forehead, caressing his face with the back of your fingers. Miguel opened his eyes, his gaze falling on yours. 

“Hi!” You whispered, stroking his cheek. 

“Hi” he smiled, eyes tired, blinking slowly, like a child almost falling asleep.

“I love you Mig”

“Te amo, mi vida, y siempre lo haré” (I love you, my life, and I’ll always do)

<<Part1 || masterlist ||

Authors notes: AHHHH I hope you guys enjoy this one as much as the first one!!! Thanks for all the love 🥹☺️

I'm a little anxious or nervous about this one because of all the lovey dovey stuff (mainly the smut) but anyway, I really like how it turned out and I hope you do too!!! I had so much fun with this one.

It turned out to be sooo long!! Funny that I cut the first one because I thought that 2k was A LOT, and this is 8k. Oh well.

I may edit this a little later, cause I don't really know how to feel about the smut. I honestly wanted it to be longer. But maybe I'll do another part, or a side story featuring what I wanted (Basically, Miguel eating you out). Anyway, let me know what you guys think!! Be truthful, don't hold back!! You can tell me: "Never write Smut again" And I'll allow it.

Practice makes perfect I suppose, so the more I write about sex the more I should improve, right? But, well. I think it is good to be the second time.

Tags: @guilty-pleasures21 @boogiemansbitch @amberbalcom14

[noblehouseofgay]

Marauders Fandom Red Flags

So in my time here (almost a year wow), I've gotten more familiar with this fandom than any other. And I love it here- but there's some issues I've seen. So- this is my list of red flags. Some are personal, some are simple fandom etiquette. Read at your own risk

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

1. Hating on ships/characters too much. If you follow me yk I will post my dislike from time to time, but people who almost exclusively post that are just annoying. Find something you enjoy instead. There's enough hatred in the world, is this really how you wanna spend time?

2. "I hate jegulus but their writers are so good" no. Fuck off. You don't deserve our work if you hate what we write about.

3. Openly bashing/rating/etc fics and other works. People do this for free. If you don't like it keep it private. I've read several fics I've disliked and I only tell my friends, if even then.

4. Liking only straight ships and canon ships. This is just a personal ick. And most of the time it feels a bit homophobic that in a fandom full of mostly queer ships- you only like the straight ones. Kinda weird man

5. Sending anon hate is RARELY okay. I say rarely because I've experienced a few instances where I'll defend it, but over a character? Or s ship? Especially when you call someone a fascist over it. Seriously? Fuck off. There's actually fucking fascists taking over and you're calling out people who like a gay ship? Yikes

6. Being rude under someone's post because you don't like it. Fuck that. I get even I've gotten a little worked up before but I do try to contain myself. I've since chosen to block tags and blogs I don't like. It's much better on my sanity. The block button is free, use it.

7. If you don't like any of the marauders era girls. Ick. What the fuck? They don't have to be your favorites, but they deserve appreciation. They're great characters when they're written well.

8. Let trans people headcannon characters as trans. This fandom is practically founded on saying fuck you to JK. Let us claim these characters in our eyes. Trans regulus means a lot to me. You don't have to like it, but you can simply let me enjoy it.

9. Similar to the last one, but if you say shit like "they cant all be gay" then you're fucking stupid. Shut the fuck up. For one it was the seventies, for two queer people tend to flock together so it makes perfect sense most of the group would be queer. And again- our whole thing is shitting on the terf. Make them queer. Spit on everything she stands for.

10. And last but not least- jegulus hate. There I said it. The amount of hate is ridiculous. You don't have to like it, but attacking us for it is actually insane.

[regulationhottie7905]

When I first watched ST, Mike’s, “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” immediately struck me as him projecting. Like anyone, I’ve read a lot of analysis and I’ve seen a lot of takes, but let me explain mine.

In my opinion, until s4, there’s more evidence to support the idea that MIKE is the one who doesn’t like girls, rather than Will. He only has 3 close (guy) friends. He never remarks on girls he finds pretty, he shows zero interest in any girl but El (which I honestly think is just him trying to hold on to a veneer of heterosexuality). In s2, Will, Lucas, and Dustin wants to be friends with Max- it’s Mike who dislikes her.

I think Mike and Will have always had a different kind of friendship. Even if they don’t have the right words for it, it’s kind of like the codependent homoerotic teenage friendships people make memes about. I mean, honestly, Mike won’t properly apologize to his own girlfriend but he runs with his tail between his legs to apologize to his ‘best friend’. Mike has always known he was Different, but he didn’t have the support system Will has, or the time to try and figure it out.

In s3, Mike is going headfirst into his relationship with El. He’s copying everyone around him and doing what he thinks he should do, which (imo) is why he spends SO much time making out with El (living up to the red blooded American male fantasy) than establishing a genuine relationship with her. Something about it is Off, but I don’t know if he’s even admitted that to himself. And Will made him stop (with the “day without girls”). Will made him hang out with him, and Will made Something Happen.

They’ve always had Something between them, but verbalizing it is too dangerous in a town like Hawkins in the 80s. They just knew that they were… different. Best friends in a way Lucas and Dustin weren’t. But Mike crossed the line during the fight (“it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!”) and after he says it, you can see him pull back. He felt guilty and weird and he didn’t know why, and he felt defensive and felt like he was backed into a corner so he said it. Will was being earnest and honest in a way he wasn’t ready for- but he doesn’t know that. He just knows that he felt sick and needed Will to stop. So he blamed Will. Because it’s Will’s being weird, right? Will is the one who’s making him feel weird, because HE��S the one being weird about it.

“It’s not MY fault YOU don’t like girls!” As much as we like to joke about it (Mike accusing Will of being gay whenever they argue) a lot of byler fights make a lot of sense in this vein, and I think it’s a really interesting insight into his character imo. Will is being honest and genuine in a way Mike isn’t ready for. Pushing Will away and attacking him in such a vitriolic ways really ensures that Mike’s masculinity is protected while Will is shamed (in Mike’s mind, at least.) The Byers moved to Cali so soon that the events of the rain fight were never truly discussed.

Mike REALLY hurt Will and I think that’s why he didn’t reach out- because he didn’t know what to say. He avoided his feelings and thinking about Will as much as possible and wrote El letters. But seeing Will at the airport changed something. He’s taller. He’s grown. He’s confident now (I’ll get back to that later). And when he sees him, Mike’s stomach does something it’s never done before. And he doesn’t know why. But despite that, he goes to hug his girlfriend. He doesn’t hug Will.

I firmly believe that Mike is gay (again, imo. Bi Mike people, ily, I love ur analysis, ur cool asf, this is just my opinion). I don’t think he’s ever felt a genuine attraction to El. He’s mimicking his parents and his friends and comics and fairytales- he will be her knight in shining armor, her Superman. With El, it’s friendship and the anxiety of a facade, but he mistakes it for the butterflies of a crush. With Will, it’s the only time he feels something REAL. I just don’t think he’s used to feeling genuine feelings, especially powerful feelings (let’s not forget he’s a teenager, the hormones are RAGING) and while he likes it (even though he has trouble admitting it… I think he gets better as s4 goes on though) it’s overwhelming and scary. I think he interprets those feelings as some kind of threat (especially considering that he’s been bullied before) or at least, he subconsciously does.

[frankys-wife]

THANK YOU KRUEGER FOR TAGGING ME <3

What animal does your f/o remind you of?

He'd canonically be a rhinoceros if he was an animal, but my horse hyperfixation brain says he reminds me of a male unicorn! I justify it like this:

Factually, horses and rhinoceros are distantly related because they're from the same group, Perissodactyls. They share a common ancestor millions of years ago, called the Cambaytherium. Basically, this means that Rhinos are horses with horns. And what is a horned horse? A unicorn. Also factually speaking, the horn on a unicorn's head used to be a metaphor for masculinity in medieval times, often because unicorns were depicted fighting and killing lions. It's why some national Coat of Arms symbols have the Lions and Unicorns on them. (Also because the horn on a Unicorn's head used to me a metaphor for a certain body part...) Another reason for this is because unicorns are rare. Franky is one-of-a-kind, both in his canon and our reality. There's no person or character comparable (in my opinion) to him or his abilities. He likes to stick out in a crowd and takes pride in being unique!

So I can happily say I think Franky is a very strong unicorn hehe <3

2. If you got your f/o a gift, what would you get them?

I would try to pick him up any kind of work materials he needs. I'd also make him all kinds of shirts: fun patterns, stupid slogans to make him laugh, anything that suits him! And, of course, his favourite cola!

3. What is your favourite hobby to think about doing with your f/o?

Anytime I get a random spurt of energy and put on some music, I think dancing with him would be the most fun thing ever! I also think he'd be chill with me putting on a fun action movie or playing some cards.

Also the occasional Mario Kart or Just Dance challenge. Franky would be so down to challenge me to Just Dance, we could do all of the cheesy couple's songs. I can see him getting frustrated when the Wii remote doesn't register his move XD

4. What chores would your f/o do around the house? Are there any they REALLY dislike?

He's chill with any kind of yard work, which isn't my thing. He doesn't mind vacuuming either, since the vacuum acting up would mean he gets to work on it a little. The nice thing about being married to an engineer/carpenter is that I've got an on-site handyman :) <3

He hates cleaning the bathrooms (honestly, who doesn't). I don't mind it as much as he does, so I usually take care of it. If things get clogged, though, it's a Franky job. He also doesn't care too much for laundry but is particular about how his speedos get washed so I take care of that without any issues.

5. Would you trust your f/o to drive a car?

Honestly, yeah. He's pretty calm and level-headed when driving for the most part. He steers the Thousand Sunny with no problems, so a car isn't that much different (though, he does tend to be a bit of a speed devil sometimes...). He might make impulsive decisions but he has the best intentions.

6. What kind of ringtone or notification sound would you have for your f/o?

Probably one of his favourite songs! Or I'll record him saying something silly I think hehe

7. Would your f/o fight someone online?

He might for a bit but then he might just hit them with the "L opinion + Ratio". He likes to fight in person anyways.

8. Does your f/o believe in soulmates?

He's not really a spiritual person per se- he believes what he sees and experiences, things he can justify. But he does think we're so natural together that, in his own words, it was meant to be if that makes sense!

F/O Ask Game!!

A list of questions to answer about your f/o!! You guys can just go down the list and answer them all (I'd love to see it!!!) in a reblog, orrr you can reblog and have others ask you these questions in your inbox! Have fun!! PR.OSHI.P, NOT FOR YOU!

What animal does your f/o remind you of?

If you got your f/o a gift, what would you get them? 

What is your favorite hobby to think about doing with your f/o?

What chores would your f/o do around the house? Are there any they REALLY dislike?

Would you trust your f/o to drive a car?

What kind of ringtone or notification sound would you have for your f/o?

Would your f/o fight someone online? 

Does your f/o believe in soulmates?

How would you introduce your f/o to your friends? How do you think that would go? 

What's the first scenario that comes to your head when you think of being with your f/o?

What dynamic would you use to describe you and your f/o? 

What color do you associate with your f/o? 

How would your f/o introduce you to those they care about? How do you think that would go?

What animal do you remind your f/o of?

What would your f/o get you for Valentine's day, if anything? 

What does your f/o call you in their head? What do they call you aloud/to others?

What does your f/o like doing with you the most? 

How does your f/o show their love best? 

What's your f/o's favorite feature of yours?

What're your f/o's favorite personality traits of yours?

If your f/o drew you, how would you describe the art piece?

Does your f/o share food with you?

What color would your f/o associate you with?

What?? Who's tagging their friends again?- not me... I just really wanna see yalls answers. Formal invitation lest you become worried I don't wanna see it. @jpeg-indulgence @starshakez @moxanji-real @frankys-wife @katsenbergs-soulmate @katanahusband @fl0ralsxgar @one-winged-dreams AND LITERALLY ANYONE WHO SEES THIS.