#i just have to add the 'apparently' every time

[kwimii999]

Previous updates : #1 - #2 - #3

Previous polls : #1 - #2

Note : this project is going to take me some time because of the reasons under here. Most of it is based on how I want townies to generate and making CAS an easier and less time consuming experience for everyone !

I'm a college student 😭

I have to make sure they look fine for the townies more so that if you use random sim fixes or simler's core mod to get rid of pudding faces, they won't look out of place

I have to make sure each and every preset can be used with one another, so I actually have rules and numbers that I need to respect for the sliders I modify ex. : most of the noses height are set to -50, because it looks good on both genders and all ages and fits the new headshapes and their new height

I have to make sure that even though they're generic, they're also different from eachother and don't have same face syndrome

I have to make sure that they're diverse and find the right balance

Certain sliders I have to add manually (that takes time) because they do not get exported with the Face Preset Editor

As I said in previous update, I will only release this when I'm fully done with every single presets of each category : eyes, mouths, heads and noses, since it's easier that way for me and better for you guys as well :)

What's different this time ?

Well I've opted for a different approach, remember when I said I wasn't going to change the look of the original head presets ? well I changed my mind, since I've been asked to include defined headshapes a few times which I said I would do in a different set of non default face presets but I decided that doing this way instead would be better since it could include defined headshapes but also the other headshapes (Oval, Square, Round, Slightly Longer) - (Excluding the World Adventure's asian presets, they will recieve their own modification)

For the heads everything has been changed to : 2 Ovals, 2 Heart/Defined, 2 Rounds, 2 Squares, 2 Slightly Longer. (10 in total) The same shapes won't be identical of course.

For the eyes, they need small modifications

For the mouths, It needs more of a balance and diversity

For the noses, they need a complete overhaul

All the new flavors

There is now 6 flavors for version 2 of the headshapes with all the polls I've made. Thank you for all the answers by the way it really helps direct this project to better understand what you guys may want :)

Without SmoothFaceNormals

Flavor 1 - Base game compatible

Flavor 2 - Male neck fix

Flavor 3 - Male neck fix + Neck width smaller + Longer necks

With SmoothFaceNormals (Slider set to a specific number for all headshapes, won't be too high)

Flavor 4 - smoothfacenormals

Flavor 5 - smoothfacenormals + Male neck fix

Flavor 6 - smoothfacenormals + Male neck fix + Neck width smaller + Longer necks

What do you mean by longer necks though ? This is what I mean :

How do the headshapes look so far ?

Well, since I'm close to completing flavor 1, since it's the base of every other flavor and needed so I can work on the others. I've choosen my sims Owen and Shana to showcase them on both genders and the young adult life stage.

V.2 - Flavor 1 - Base game compatible

I'm so close to finishing the headshapes I just need to make some faces rounders and some more different from eachother and I should be done with the flavor 1 (For reference this is like my 10th WIP.... )

Question - 1 " Why are the presets not in order (ex. Oval 1 then Oval 2) " - Answer : That's because I'm unable to figure it out :(

EA Default headshapes

In addition

So, they won't immediatly come with the thumbnails once they're out because apparently there's 2 thounsand image files ??? 😀........... I ... BYE. I'm not even sure I wanna do them anymore lol.

[dot-https]

Saiki K and Death note crossover where, for reasons beyond understanding, the café Saiki frequents becomes a break in space.

Saiki has, of course, zero interest in this. Of course he knows, but, really, who cares? Sure, these people are a little bit strange, and the art style shift is jarring, but really, there's nothing to it.

There's nothing to the strange man in the back who orders an entire stock of cake every day (really, he's lucky their worlds logic is based on convenience. if not, they would have ran cakes eons ago,) and thinks to fast for Saiki to read. It's nothing. It is so incredibly, absolutely nothing.

It's a little less nothing, however, when he runs into another space time anomaly thinking incrimentally less fast, and of casual things, like notebooks and murder.

So, naturally, Saiki goes invisible, steals a few strands of the mans hair, and puts it on a pencap.

The logic is simple: this is a comedy. That being the case, murder can happen only if it's comedic, and reversible. Nothing about this inspires humor, so it's only natural Saiki has to save the integrity of his genre. He takes the pencap, wanders around until he finds a crime scene (far too easily, might I add) and drops it off. Then, he un-invisibles, wanders back to that crime scene, and as such a good, upstanding citizen, simply has to turn it into the police as potential evidence (under the promise of anonymity, of course, so he isn't targeted, of course) (he'd disguise himself, but he's already exhausted his transformative powers for the day. so sue him.)

It's all well and good until about a day later, when the guy from the café shows up at his house.

The issue is simple: apparently, none of these crime scenes have physical evidence. Not a single one. In fact, the crime scene Saiki had dropped the pencap at had been so thoroughly searched a layer of the dirt and concrete around the area had been carefully shaved away for testing. Essentially, L knows that Saiki knows, and L doesn't believe the whole 'average, gee-wilikers' thing for a second. He just doesn't know how.

Naturally, he sees through all of Saiki's attempts at getting him to leave, and correctly pegs him as someone who likes to be left alone because he's hiding something, and now Saiki is double fucked. He's interrogated for a while, gives nothing up, but makes a grave, fatal mistake:

Nearly falls over himself when he sees the rare, one of a kind coffee jelly L is eating when he arrives for another interrogation.

Now, he's being followed around by an insomniac detective who believes they simply must solve this case together, and also maybe eat some rare sweets Saiki will never be rich enough (not fairly, at least) to get himself, and did I forget to mention god's favorite angel having convinced herself that theres competition to be found in an otherworldly (ha.) model, and is also deadset on going with him, wherever it is?

Good grief.

[teddybearsandspaceships]

Some random notes from yesterday's (25/05/2024) Scar stream. Not even all of the best parts because there were so many, at one point I was just laughing out loud pretty much continuously.

A chatter mentions Scar being the "mob boss." Scar is immediately delighted. In the shopping district he won't be the zoo keeper, he'll be the mob boss with his own outfit etc.

Scar built the nether portal for his train (it looks super cool!) and is now transporting skeletons to the nether so they shoot anyone approaching it because he wants to discourage people from using his nether portal. He put his own heads on the skeletons and calls them "Scar Junior." Only one of them dies.

Doc shows up for distraction and support. He teaches Scar things about redstone, like how you can place a lever on the block next to a rail to activate it. They complain about the new YouTube layout, Doc blames Elon Musk, who according to Scar lives in Doc's head rent-free 28 hours a day.

"just because you look like a taxi driver in Indiana Jones doesn't make you less evil"

Ren shows up too. Doc and Ren start to complain about shipping. Scar tells them a heartwarming story about his local UPS guy.

apparently Doc was a wandering trader in the woods as a kid. He traded home-cooked German food to American soldiers from a nearby base. For ammunition.

Next topic: the "worst" (unrestricted) fireworks. At some point Doc does an exaggerated German accent. Doc also made a joke about Scar being 48, Scar says he prefers the rumors about him being smart and handsome, Doc says that's just the truth.

Scar and Doc getting trolled by horns, including Cub shouting "help" which they both thought was real for a second. Chat suspects "horn man" is Grian, but it's such a huge variety I'm pretty sure it has to be Cub. Finally Cub shows up (briefly)

After all the skeletons were moved Scar wants to add a drowned. He got the go-ahead from Etho to take one from his farm. Scar blocks off Etho's portal and Doc wonders what he's getting dragged into, calls himself an Ethogirl once again

unfortunate realization: a drowned will not attack people with tridents in the nether because there's neither water nor night time. But then chat did experiments and they say it should work? Spoiler: it works very well.

the first trident guy refused to put anything on his head, but the second one put on Scar's hat \o/ so he can even move during the day. It becomes night though, Scar asked people in chat to sleep and Bdubs logs on ^^ a few seconds too late though, Ren slept first.

Oh noo, the trident guy hit a free-ranging iron golem and was killed. Bdubs joins the group just to say it serves them right. Bdubs is telling on them to Etho.

Doc refuses to mess with Etho's landscaping. Bdubs makes a walkway but very carefully. Scar, head in hands, this is what it's like with Etho fangirls… next Minecon, Scar says he'll print Bdubs a shirt with Etho's face on it. Bdubs says Scar is the one obsessed with him, coming over all the time.

Scar talking about a Hermitcraft rule called the "open seas rule", if something is built on the ocean it's free for taking. (Bdubs is skeptical)

Bdubs says dealing with Etho is like dealing with a rabbit. Don't pester it, you just have to leave it and it'll come to you. "How many moms does Etho have on this server." "This is what it's like having a friend." "Oh I wouldn't know" xD "We're friends not moms"

Doc complains about how hungry he is. It's late and he really wants to eat his mini pizza. Scar: why don't you just get a feeding tube, then you don't have to eat.

Bdubs: "I'm just taking notes for Etho later." Scar: "this is just Limited Life the whole time." "Every second is a second closer to Etho logging on and catching you guys"

Scar is now shifting the blame for their misfortunes to Tango because he never offered help or even made jokes in chat. Threatens to throw him out of the LNC, even ^^

"Ooh, you're not trapping Etho's portal!" "No, it's his own" "Oh there's no reason for me to be here then." Bdubs logs out immediately, then…

NOW Etho logs in xD "Etho's here, he's gonna come over here and cause an issue." "What's this about trapping my portal?", and other quotes such as, "I'm watching what you're doing Scar and it's infuriating me." "Put some water down" ("It's the nether!"), telling Bdubs he should have let his iron golem die instead of healing it, and "What you're building a rollercoaster over here, what is this"

"How do we do this, Doc?" "I don't know, give Etho some blocks and let him do it" "No no, I came for the show" Doc is just standing there with two dozen tridents in the ground in front of him xD

"You're like the muppets, those two older ones" - Doc about Ethubs. "We're the comic relief" "Yeah that's it"

Etho is concerned, they're representing Hermitcraft after all, people will think they're incompetent. Etho: "Tango, what do you think?" "Oh god don't tell me Tango's here." Tango is now here :D

Scar: "just to be clear, I am competent, things just didn't go to plan…"

Scar is in protest to both the nether and their nether hub. Etho: "If only we had a couple people around here often referred to as the best builders ever…"

Etho, contemplating the skeletons and trident guy: "So what are you going to do if Cub comes by with his Thorns armor?" Scar hides his head in his hands.

aww, Bdubs and Tango telling Scar LNC will help him with that mountain ^^

Doc finally logs out. Spoiler: he got his mini pizza.

[oldshrewsburyian]

Jaime/Brienne, modern AU. Ahem.

*muffled screaming* Ahem. So, I think I would take the license of setting this at a university specifically, because 1) write what you know 2) what other setting is quite as good at forcing people who really hate each other into proximity and reenacting/reinforcing intersecting hierarchies in deeply weird ways?

...anyway.

Speaking of those weird intersecting hierarchies, I think Brienne has a proper PhD (humanities, with that quixotry)¹ and Jaime is one of those people with Industry Experience™ and oodles of family money

Can I save Ned Stark from death at the cost of making him head of Faculty Senate and/or the AAUP chapter? He seems like a union man (affectionate, complimentary)

Cat has a flexible admin job because one does not simply raise (*counts quickly*) six children on a single income, and this way, if Cat manages the First Year Experience™ program for undergrads, she can be semi-directly responsible for the fact that Brienne and Jaime have to work together²

I'm envisioning Jaime as one of those men who performs expertise via TED talks, podcasts, etc., where it's more important to be persuasive for ten minutes and look good doing it than to actually do work (Brienne is annoyed by this as is her right)

Having recently gotten to the King's Guard meeting in A Storm of Swords, I can say that Jaime is shockingly (!!) good at running committee meetings/managing departmental politics, and I feel as though this should be relevant³

¹This also allows me to put in medievalism for fun

²This also means that Brienne and Cat can hang out

³Also canonical, of course, is the fact that however clumsily (!), he is very invested in defending her in the face of other people's sexism/misogyny, even though hardly innocent of these things

[fiepige]

Compilation of EVERY single time they changed Hobie's filter in the digital version:

Left: Theatrical release Right: Digital release

You might have to click on some of them to get a better look at Hobie, sadly I don't have a video editor that allows me to make better edits than these :')

[bookshelfpassageway]

one of these days i'm writing some kind of essay about lost media and humanity's need to solve loose ends. people only care about it because its lost. people only know its lost because somebody cared about it. it's such an achingly beautiful concept. it's such a horrifying fate. it's about mortality and the traitor that is memory and about love. its about the human spirit and a new kind of folklore. all forms of media preservation are a race against the deprecation and physical decomposition of their storage medium. i hope there's a heaven for art.

[redrobin-detective]

Iruma is an invasive species within the Netherworld, and like many invasive species he will conquer if left unchecked.

We know at some point, humans and demons interacted though, at some point, they each became each other’s myths. I propose that the separation was intentional on the demon side, relegating humans to bedtime stories. They did this because they knew a single human could elevate or devastate the Netherworld. Humans are weaker in demons in most ways physically but their real strength lies in their cooperativeness and desire for community, adaptability  and perseverance despite adversity.

Right from the start, Iruma has unnaturally succeeded in a world that incredibly hostile to him. And yet from the start be began building relationships. We’ve seen demons don’t have much of a concept of ‘friends’ the closest being ‘allies’. The Misfits individually were lazy and self-centered which is what got them sent to troublemakers class. Only when Iruma reached out and formed positive relationships, created a foreign system of giving and receiving help did they really flourish. With each arc, we see the class cooperating and relying with each other more and more, even in individual events. Its helped them grow exponentially in power and personality and only occurred because Iruma planted the notion that they are stronger together.

Iruma is also extremely adaptable not only from his hectic upbringing but his innate humanity. Despite not knowing the context of what is happening during most of his day, he adapts extremely well. He uses what skills he gained in the human world by tweaking them to suit his needs and picked up new demonic skills (such as using Ali-san’s stored magic) very quickly. Part of the ‘special training’ leading up to the Harvest Festival was forcing the kids to break out of just using their bloodline abilities. Iruma has no power himself and thus isn’t limited in what he uses to complete a task. We’ve seen on a few occasions he wins simply because his opponent is too stuck in a particular way of fighting and thinking. Being able to think on his feet and not just stick to the familiar is what makes him such a fierce opponent.

Finally, we’ve observed that demons on the whole are self-centered and lazy. This is not always the case but overall many lack the ability to pursue or accept change. Even the Six Fingers is all about returning to origins and reviving Delkira, in other words, moving backwards. But since he arrived in the Netherworld Iruma has boldly moved forward. He integrated well into a completely alien environment and not only became popular but powerful very quickly. He worked hard to unlearn an ingrained skill (dodging) to win a contest going head to head with the most powerful student. Even when his fellows wanted to give up, his dedication and well known compassion helped win them the Royal One. He became an expert archer even when his master said most demons gave up, refusing to put in the effort. Challenges that most demons backed down from, Iruma charged on ahead.

Iruma used his ability to bring people together, to adapt to any situation no matter how strange and to see his ambitions through to go from someone who should’ve been eaten on day one to a stand out demon. Iruma himself is a kind, extraordinary young man but he also has a natural advantage in an environment he is unknowingly adapted to. It’s one of the reasons why he will eventually be demon king because who else deserves to stand at the very top than the creature who can outnumber, out-think and outlast any demonic opponent?

[kekaki-cupcakes]

PJO RANT FOR THE ONE PERSON WHO ASKED :D

@seeking-further-illumination here you go, lol.

I think that the expectations of the show were for exactly what everyone wanted, because of Rick's involvement and the budget, but everyone imagined the books differently, so not everyone could ever be happy with it.

There's that, and it is marketed towards a younger audience and I'm not making any assumptions but most of the fans who aren't happy [from what I can see] are a bit older then the target audience [not that there's anything wrong with that, obviously, don't come at me], and if you re read the first book it's literally written for children.

There's literally backlash for everything ever made because for some reason people just can't chill [???] but I think the reason the Percy Jackson show had such a large amount of people unhappy with it is because we haven't had anything like it before. I don't know how to explain it but we've all created our own little versions of the show and made our own content for the fandom cause we were left to our devices for so long, so now that we have something, viewers already have these empires in their heads that they want to see on screen.

I'll just put it like this, if the show came out, like, a few years after the og book series, there would be less people unhappy with it.

[juuheizou]

did my loveless ace self really just sink three hours of my life into a fucking dating sim?

[momo-de-avis]

My upstairs neighbours have dogs. I know this because I hear them. I hear their paws against the floor, and I hear barking, and right now I can even hear whining. I am using plural here -- dogs -- because they are the ones who said they have two. I wouldn't have known that.

I have never seen these dogs. They're real, you can hear them very easily, but I have never heard them taking the dogs out for a walk. I have never heard the dogs on the buildings hallways or stairs. I have seen the neighbours several times and yet I have not seen either of these dogs. I have no idea what they look like.

This is just so utterly bizarre

[blindmagdalena]

i been listening to too much lana del rey, and You Can Be The Boss drives me so insane like it fits homelander so well in my mind GRAHHH. imagine being some employee for vought, not too low but not too high up. youre at a vought hosted party, supes and all that but you never really cared for that; after all, you only took this job because it paid well. the company party was mandatory but to be honest you were just looking for a chance to escape and go home. the dress you had on was too tight, the smell of alcohol and all the fake laughter overwhelmed your senses when you didnt even drink much. stumbling in the crowd of well dressed business men and gorgeous women, you walk straight into him, the homelander. he doesnt know why you really caught his attention, maybe he could tell you didnt belong among the crowd of money hungry business people and drunk out of their mind supes, or maybe the tight dress just complimented your figure a bit too well for him to brush you off. he doesnt make it obvious at first, he just laughs and assures you that you didnt cause him trouble by walking into him, "woah, you better watch your step dear... you alright?" he puts his hand on your waist although he knows you dont need help balancing yourself anymore. he really just wants your scent to last longer on him. like a bloodhound, later through the night he'll try to find you through the crowd of people, tracking the smell of that cheap perfume you wore. he finds you by some desk makeshifted into a well made table for the night, drink in hand he approaches you. "ah, you! youre the uh, the girl who walked into me earlier, right?" he asks even though he damn well knows the answer.

"oh, god, im so sorry about that, sir... i wasnt paying attention and-"

"oh, please... dont be sorry! hell, i should be thanking you for saving me from those black ties... ah, i never caught your name..."

although youre completely starstruck you manage to make some small talk, mentioning somewhere along the way that he was your favorite hero. he practically shows his smirk at this point.

"oh, please... what, you young people are still into classic supes like me?" he fucking knows the answer but he needs his ego stroked.

as you answer he leans over, grabbing a cocktail napkin (also using this as a sneaky opportunity to look over at your tits, just to see if hes really gonna do this.) and pulling out a pen, he carries one around everywhere just in case a fan comes up to him.

"c'mon... ill give you an autograph... ah, after this i have to go and y'know... give the big toast..." he practically sighs it out.

youre completely flattered... and, yeah, a little weirded out but hey, free autograph.

he hands back the now folded napkin, walking back into the crowd, cape flowing behind him as you lose sight of the red white and blue.

unfolding the napkin, you see written clearly his perfect signature.... under it, a phone number.

[AHHHH IVE NEVER WRITTEN ANYTHING BEFORE AND I GOT CARRIED AWAY IM SORRY] i also didnt proof read so sorry if anything is misspelled!!

You hold on to that number for a couple of days, looking at it every so often. There's a new undertone of anxiety at work; suddenly you're nervous about running into him, even though it's never happened before. You don't work anywhere near the 99th floor, and yet there's a constant prickle at the back of your neck, the presence of the napkin in your pocket a constant reminder.

The feeling follows you home. You can't shake it, you can't stop thinking about it. About him. You pull out the napkin just to stare at it sometimes, to remind yourself that really happened. Why the hell would The Homelander give a nobody like you his number?

On the evening of the third day, thoroughly plagued by this accursed napkin burning a hole in your pocket, you finally call the number elegantly scrawled across it. It rings once, twice, thrice. Your heart is pounding so hard you can barely hear the ringing. There's a click, and your heart stops. You hear an amused huff of breath on the other end of the line in place of a greeting. "I was beginning to think you were blowing me off," Homelander says, but you think you can hear the smile in his voice. Your mouth feels dry, full of cotton. "No, no, I wasn't, uhm... Sorry, I would have called sooner, I was just—" "Nervous?" Homelander cuts in. His voice is low, and feels unbelievably intimate in your ear. You bite your tongue, feeling a flush crawl up your chest. "Don't be nervous, sweetheart. I'm glad you called."

You try to laugh it off, try to regain an ounce of calm. This guy really is larger than life, even over the phone. "Yeah? Why's that?" "Because I have not been able to get you off my mind," he purrs. You can't see the absent way he's flipping a pen, the same one he used to sign that napkin, between his fingers. Just like you couldn't see the way he has been watching you through the floors and walls of Vought tower, or in your own home, how his lips would twitch every time you pulled out that napkin to stare at his signature, and his phone number. Fuck, the fact you carried around that napkin everywhere haunted him. The way you would take it out just to stare or run your fingers along the writing was damn near reverent. The look of worship in your clueless eyes, totally unaware your god was watching you in your moment of prayer, was almost too much for him. Still, he remained patient, and now it's finally paying off. As all worthwhile hunts do. Caught off guard, you stammer, mouth opening and closing. "I, uhm, I've been thinking about you, too," you say. Your tongue feels clumsy, like a brick of lead in your mouth. "I really enjoyed meeting you that night."

"Well, I would hope so. You did tell me that I'm your favorite," he goes on. God, is he flirting with you, or trying to humiliate you? You're not sure which is worse. Your whole body feels hot, and your brain simply refuses to work correctly. "I'd just love to hear more about you." "So, like... Coffee?" You offer. Your hand is starting to tingle from how tightly you're gripping your phone. Is this really happening? You just asked The Homelander for a coffee date. "Not really a coffee kind of guy," Homelander replies. "How about dinner? My apartment in Vought Tower, tomorrow night. You like steak?" "Oh, okay, I— yes, I do," you fumble slightly, clearing your throat. "That'd be nice," you say, cleaning up your tone, attempting to gain any semblance of composure in this conversation. "Perrrrrfect," he rumbles. The near growl of his voice right in your ear makes you feel a touch faint. Jesus Christ. He must know exactly what he's doing. "It's a date." "It's a date," you echo, as if to confirm for yourself that's really true. "Okay, I will... see you soon." "You have a good night. Be seein' you." The line disconnects, and you're left in the too-loud silence of your apartment, staring at your phone in disbelief Holy shit.

[eggmeralda]

drowsed and drugged out on migraine medication and for what. music sounds the same

[5ummit]

New Mature Content Warning Overlay (And How to Get Rid of It)

More fun community label "features"! Unlike the new mandatory label for #NSFW, this one is a bigger deal to me because it affects my entire blog and it can't be avoided by just using a different tag.

Apparently on custom blog layouts, if you happen to post or reblog even a SINGLE post that's been flagged with the mature content community label, a full-page warning overlay will appear blurring out your entire blog that must be manually clicked through every single time the page is refreshed. At first I thought this was just a bug due to my older layout but I've come to realize it's not. It's a feature (as confirmed by this recent changes post) that affects all custom themes. The formatting will vary based on your own theme but here's what it looks like on my blog:

I don't know about you but I find this is stupid and annoying. If it could be dismissed once and never seen again that might be one thing, but that's not the case. The vast majority of my blog is not "mature" enough to warrant such an aggressive and invasive warning. I also think pop-ups are obnoxious in general and I'll be damned if tumblr's going to force me to have one on MY blog.

After some desperate googling for a known workaround and being unable to find even a single mention of it, I decided to take on the challenge myself. I'm not a theme coder, so apologies if there's a better way to do this, but luckily it only took me like 10 minutes to figure out a simple fix, which I'm now sharing with anyone else who may want it:

.community-label-cover__wrapper {display: none}

Just copypaste that somewhere in your CSS and goodbye pop-up!

If you're not sure how to access your theme code, check out this help article. You can also add the code via the Advanced Options menu, which is actually even better (if you can get it to work, it depends on how your theme was coded), because it will then automatically be reapplied to a lot of themes without having to remember to manually add it every time if you change your theme in the future.

Obviously this will only remove it from your own blog for anyone who may visit it. If you never want to see this warning again on other people's blogs you can also add this custom filter to your ad block:

tumblr.com##.community-label-cover__wrapper

Unfortunately I do not have an easy tutorial on hand for this one as the method will depend on your specific ad block app or extension.

Some additional notes:

After adding the theme code and saving the changes, give it a minute to update as it sometimes takes a little while for the page to refresh.

The warning overlay only seems to appear if a "mature" post is on the FIRST page of your blog, which is still annoying and makes the whole thing even more pointless and stupid because what if someone visits any other page of your blog, and oh no, happens to see "mature" content they weren't warned about?!

The warning also appears on direct links to "mature" posts.

This hack has NOTHING to do with entire blogs that have been flagged as NSFW. It only works for non-flagged blogs with custom themes that happen to have individual "mature" posts.

[moonlesslights]

Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

[paeinovis]

I think I'm going to switch back to a pixel for my next phone fjndjd

Like there are (very very very) few things I prefer on iOS but for writing stuff, I use my pixel 3a 99% more often. Androids are generally just a lot more customizable anyway

[luveline]

Ooo can we have a blurb where bombshell! R and Spence were either on a date or were about to have their first time but got called into work? They both look a little annoyed at being interrupted. The bombshell reader series has my heart 🥺

im picturing boyband reid here maybe <3 fem

cw suggestive content

“These are trick buttons,” you accuse. 

Spencer laughs for the tenth time in as many minutes, perhaps tickled under your hands, more likely that he’s just feeling the same rush of hormones (namely adrenaline) as you are. “They’re not trick buttons, it’s ‘cos your hands are shaking.” 

He takes your poor hands in his. “It’s okay,” he adds softly, “I can do it.” 

“I’m not nervous, I’m excited,” you say, less soft, more desperate than he is, or at least on the surface. 

“I know, I know–” He catches your lips in a sudden eager kiss, a hand jumping to your cheek to ferry you closer, the other sewing down between your two chests to work open his fiendish buttons. 

“See,” he says between kissing, “easy.” 

“I’d like to see this level of dexterity when you unclasp my bra,” you mumble, kissing with every bit of hunger and love you have for him, lips drifting to his cheek, and then down to his jaw. Your mouth opens of its own accord. Spencer lets a breath slip from him coloured with wanting, the most amorous sound he’s ever made under your hands as you kiss, and nip, and—

Your phone rings from the nightstand, a heavy, repetitive vibration. 

“Ignore it,” you say easily, climbing up over Spencer’s lap, hand to the side of his face and rubbing tenderly. 

“I was planning on it,” he says. He was shy at first, those first few kisses, but Spencer’s a person like any other and he squeezes your hips closer to his without further argument. 

Your phone stops ringing a half a minute later. You smile into his mouth, even more when his fingers climb the length of your spine to slip playfully under the clasp of your bra. “How many tries do I get?” he asks. 

You sit back just a touch to meet his charming gaze. “As many as you need, handsome… I’m very patient.” 

He pulls you in to kiss your neck just as his phone begins to ring. 

“It’s work,” he guesses, paused regretfully under your chin. 

“We don’t know that.” 

“That’s my ringtone for work.” 

You breathe heavily atop him. “Can’t we be late?” 

He smiles at you gently. “I’m sorry, angel. If we’re late again this week he might actually bite your head off.”

Things were so perfect. This was it, this was the moment you finally knew each other to the very core, and your stomach aches with how badly you want him. You're startled at the heat behind your eyes knowing it’s not gonna happen. 

“Not tonight,” Spencer says, like he can read your mind. Maybe he’d been thinking a similar thing. “But soon, okay?”

You wrap your arms around his neck. 

His phone stops ringing before he can catch it. Both of your phones ping with simultaneous text messages quickly afterward, before your ringtone begins again in earnest. 

He leans graciously toward the nightstand, allowing you to continue hugging him while also answering the phone. “Hello?” you ask. 

“Agent Hotchner’s calling you in.” 

You press your nose to Spencer’s shoulder. “Okay. I have Dr. Reid with me too. Please stop calling, we’ll be there as soon as possible,” you say, flustered. You hang up quick. 

Spencer pats your back with his fingers, palm flat to your shoulder, apparently the less gutted of the both of you at your missed moment. “Let me get you dressed, okay?” he says. “You’re too sulky. It wouldn’t have even been that good.” 

“How rude.” 

His teasing continues. “I’m serious. I haven’t been with anyone since that girl in Vegas–”

“What girl in Vegas?” 

“–and anyways,” he says, tilting your head back, his smile both playful and adoring at once, “you shouldn’t have been on top.” 

“Spencer,” you laugh, pressing your hand to your eyes. 

“I have a head full of statistics on female pleasure and I don’t need them to know you should be laying down when we–”

You kiss him. “That’s enough,” you say, pressing the tips of your noses together. “I get the picture.” Your arm curled around his neck feels right, and you’re heartbroken to let it slink back to your side, but you do. “I love you. I wish we’d chosen different careers.” 

“I love you, too, but I don’t. Then we never would’ve met,” he says simply.

You let out a happy breath. “I guess not.” 

Spencer hoists you off of his lap in an impressive show of strength, but then he dumps you in the mess of sheets, which is less lovely. “What do you want to wear?” he asks, springing up, heading straight for his closet. “I pressed your pinstriped dress yesterday, that would look cute with your stockings. And you won’t need a jacket, it’s hotter out there than it is in here. Why are you looking at me like that? We literally don’t have time for this.” 

You love him. You’re gonna rock his world when you get home. “The dress is fine.” You put your arms up in the air. “I’m waiting. And look! We’re half undressed already. How convenient.”