#for the most part. there is one that is... debatable but is still v much connected

[etherealhannie]

( oneshot ) ،، eternal admirer ،، ⌇ 원우

─────────────────────────────────────────

،، even on the days i ain't right by your side , i'm keeping my promise that i will be wherever you are ،، .ᐟ 🦋

pairing .ᐟ shy!wonwoo × fem!reader genre .ᐟ office romance au , lifetime crush word count .ᐟ 3.1k song rec. .ᐟ wherever u r ─ umi , v

note .ᐟ my playlist got the best of me─it's one of my favourite masterpiece , hope u guys love it as much as i do !

─────────────────────────────────────────

Wonwoo first noticed Y/N in primary school, when they were just children sitting in the same classroom. It was something small at first—maybe the way she focused during lessons or how her laughter was bright and genuine. He didn’t know why, but even back then, something about her presence stayed with him.

Through middle school, Wonwoo kept his distance, content with admiring her from afar. He wasn’t the kind of boy to chase someone’s attention. In fact, he often found himself tucked in corners of the classroom, quietly reading while the others played during recess. Y/N was popular—not in the loud or flashy way—but in the way everyone naturally gravitated toward her. She was kind, easygoing, and always surrounded by friends. Wonwoo’s heart quietly thrived in that space of unspoken affection, never daring to break the surface.

High school came and went. Y/N was the star student—good grades, captain of the debate team, and still as radiant as ever. Meanwhile, Wonwoo was in the background, still the quiet boy who excelled in his own way but never sought the limelight. He had accepted by then that his love for her was something that would likely never be returned. It was easier that way. They barely shared more than polite smiles, a handful of group projects, and casual greetings.

His heart, however, had a way of betraying his thoughts. No matter how much he tried to push it down, his feelings for Y/N only grew. The longing became a constant companion—a soft ache he carried silently, never acting on it. He told himself he was okay with just admiring her from the sidelines.

They ended up attending the same university. It was a coincidence that almost felt like fate, though Wonwoo never allowed himself to believe in something as whimsical as that. University was different—they shared classes again, the same building, and occasionally ran into each other at the campus café. Those run-ins were his favorite part of the week. Sometimes they exchanged a few words, just small talk, but it was enough to keep his quiet hope alive.

During their final year, there was a group assignment, and for the first time, Wonwoo found himself working closely with Y/N. It was the most interaction they’d ever had, and for once, he allowed himself to believe they were becoming friends. His heart soared every time she asked for his help or when she smiled and thanked him for something small.

Graduation came quickly after that. Wonwoo had prepared himself for a life where their paths would finally diverge. He’d never confessed his feelings, and he told himself it was for the best. She was going to move on to bigger, brighter things, and he’d be left to move on as well, as he always had.

But life had other plans.

Three months after graduation, Wonwoo found himself at a sleek new office, ready to start his first job as a data analyst. The office was large and modern, a corporate hub buzzing with young professionals. He’d only been there a week when he saw her—Y/N, walking through the glass doors as if it were completely normal that they’d end up in the same place once again. His heart skipped a beat, then two, as she caught sight of him, smiling warmly.

“Wonwoo! I didn’t know you’d be working here too,” she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar way.

He froze for a moment, fumbling for words, before managing a soft, “Yeah, I started last week.”

From that day on, they crossed paths daily—at meetings, during lunch breaks, in the shared spaces of the office. And every time they did, Wonwoo’s heart fluttered with the same nervous energy as it had back in school. Yet, despite all the opportunities, he still couldn’t find the courage to tell her how he felt.

Then, one afternoon, a project landed on their desks. It required collaboration between departments, and to his utter shock, Wonwoo found himself paired with Y/N. They would be working closely for the next two weeks. His mind spun at the thought of spending so much time with her, but he played it cool, nodding in agreement as if his heart wasn’t racing a mile a minute.

The first meeting was nerve-wracking. Y/N sat beside him, their elbows almost touching, and all Wonwoo could focus on was the warmth radiating from her. She asked him questions about the project, listened intently to his suggestions, and for the first time, he felt like she truly saw him—not just as a classmate or colleague, but as someone important.

By the end of the project, they had spent more time together than ever before, and Wonwoo’s heart was in overdrive. Every moment felt surreal, like a dream he didn’t want to wake from. The day they submitted their final report, Y/N turned to him with a smile that nearly made his knees buckle.

“We make a pretty good team,” she said, lightly nudging his arm.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, feeling his face heat up. “We do.”

That evening, back at his shared apartment, Wonwoo couldn’t contain his excitement. His roommates were lounging in the living room when he burst in, practically glowing.

“You won’t believe what happened,” he blurted out, pacing back and forth.

Mingyu, sitting on the couch with a game controller in hand, raised an eyebrow. “What’s got you all worked up?”

Wonwoo could hardly stand still as he recounted every small detail—how they’d worked together, how close they’d sat, and how Y/N had smiled at him like that. His friends listened with amused grins, teasing him about his schoolboy crush.

“You’re so whipped,” Seungcheol teased, laughing.

Wonwoo didn’t care. He was giddy, like a teenager all over again. For the first time in years, he felt like maybe, just maybe, something could happen between them. The hope he’d kept buried for so long was starting to bloom, and though he didn’t know where things would lead, he was finally ready to see where this journey would take him.

For now, that smile was enough to keep his heart racing.

The next few days at work were a blur of nervous energy for Wonwoo. Every time he saw Y/N in the office, his heart would leap, and his mind would start racing with all the possibilities. He couldn’t shake the memory of their project, the casual touches, and the way she looked at him. Every moment replayed in his head, keeping him awake at night, wondering if she saw him the same way he saw her.

Despite the rush of excitement he felt inside, outwardly, he was still the same Wonwoo—quiet, reserved, and shy. He wanted to keep things normal, professional even, but his friends had other ideas.

“You’re really going to let this chance slip away?” Mingyu asked one night after work, tossing a pillow at him. “Dude, you’ve liked her since forever! Now you’re practically working together every day, and you’re just gonna stay quiet?”

Wonwoo sighed, sinking deeper into the couch. “It’s not that easy, Gyu. What if she doesn’t see me that way? I don’t want to ruin everything.”

Seungcheol, who had been scrolling through his phone, chimed in. “You don’t have to confess your love out of nowhere, man. Just… get closer to her. Be her friend. See where things go.”

“I don’t even know how to do that,” Wonwoo admitted, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ve been in love with her from a distance for so long. Actually being around her now feels like… I don’t know, like I’m going to mess it up.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes, but a grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re overthinking this, as usual. Just talk to her. You work in the same office, it’s the perfect excuse.”

As much as Wonwoo hated to admit it, his friends were right. He couldn’t keep waiting for things to happen by chance. He needed to take a step forward. But how?

The opportunity presented itself the next morning.

Wonwoo was sitting at his desk, reviewing some reports, when Y/N approached him with a hesitant smile. “Hey, Wonwoo. Do you have a moment? I could really use your help with something.”

His heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression calm. “Sure, what do you need?”

Y/N explained that she was working on a new proposal but had hit a roadblock with the data analysis. “I know you’re great with numbers, and I’m kind of struggling,” she admitted with a small laugh. “Do you think you could take a look?”

For a moment, Wonwoo couldn’t believe she was asking for his help again. His mind raced, but he nodded, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I can take a look. Let’s go over it together.”

They ended up spending the next hour in one of the meeting rooms, poring over spreadsheets and brainstorming ideas. Wonwoo found himself relaxing as they worked, focusing more on the task at hand and less on the nervous energy buzzing inside him. Y/N was thoughtful and sharp, always open to his suggestions, and the way she engaged with him made his chest swell with a quiet pride.

As they wrapped up, Y/N turned to him with a grateful smile. “You’re seriously a lifesaver. I don’t know how I’d get through this without your help.”

Wonwoo’s face heated up, and he looked down at the table, a small smile tugging at his lips. “It’s nothing. You could’ve figured it out.”

She laughed softly. “I don’t know about that. But seriously, thank you. You’ve been great to work with.”

Before he could respond, their phones buzzed simultaneously—lunchtime. Y/N glanced at her watch and then back at him, hesitating for a second. “Hey, do you want to grab lunch together? It’s been a while since we’ve really talked outside of work.”

Wonwoo’s mind went blank. Lunch? With her? It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a meal, but it felt different now. This was just the two of them, and he didn’t want to overthink it. He swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

They ended up at a cozy little café near the office, sitting across from each other with steaming cups of coffee and sandwiches. It was the most casual setting they’d been in together in years, and for the first time, Wonwoo allowed himself to relax.

“So,” Y/N started, stirring her coffee absentmindedly, “how’s it been for you, working here? It’s kind of funny that we ended up in the same place after all these years.”

Wonwoo smiled softly. “Yeah, I didn’t expect it either. It’s been good. Different from school, but… in a good way.”

Y/N nodded. “Same here. I was nervous at first, but seeing familiar faces like yours makes it a lot easier.”

His heart flipped at the mention of him making things easier for her, but he tried to keep his cool. They talked more about work, shared memories from university, and slowly, Wonwoo realized how natural it felt being around her. She wasn’t just the girl he’d admired from afar anymore; she was someone he could talk to, laugh with, and maybe even get closer to.

That evening, back at the apartment, he couldn’t contain his excitement once again. His roommates were already waiting for the update as soon as he walked through the door.

“So? How’d it go?” Mingyu asked, leaning forward with a grin.

Wonwoo tried to keep his expression neutral, but the smile that broke through was unstoppable. “We had lunch together.”

Seungcheol sat up straighter. “Lunch? Just the two of you?”

Wonwoo nodded, the warmth spreading through him as he remembered their conversation. “Yeah. It was… it was nice. Really nice.”

Mingyu chuckled, shaking his head. “Look at you, getting all giddy over lunch. You’ve got it bad, man.”

“I know,” Wonwoo admitted, laughing softly. “But… I think I’m finally starting to see things move forward.”

And for the first time in years, that hope he’d held onto so tightly felt within reach.

As the days passed, the lunch with Y/N became a new routine. They started meeting up more often, sometimes in the office cafeteria, other times at the same cozy café nearby. It wasn’t anything special on the surface—just two colleagues grabbing a bite together—but to Wonwoo, it was everything. Every conversation, every shared laugh, every accidental brush of their hands felt like another step closer to something he had never let himself imagine before.

His roommates, of course, continued to tease him about it at every chance they got.

“So, any big developments?” Seungcheol asked one night, casually flipping through the channels on TV. “Did you hold hands yet?”

Wonwoo groaned, throwing a pillow at him from across the room. “No, we’re just… talking. It’s not like that.”

Mingyu, sprawled out on the couch, shot him a knowing look. “Not yet, maybe. But come on, man. You’re basically going on mini-dates every day. When are you going to make a move?”

“I’m not,” Wonwoo said quickly, though the idea of making a move had crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit. “We’re just friends. She probably doesn’t even see me that way.”

Seungcheol snorted. “You’re dense, dude. She’s spending all this time with you for a reason. No one’s that nice unless they want to be around you.”

Wonwoo frowned, unsure of what to believe. The thought that Y/N might feel something for him seemed too good to be true. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, only to have them crushed. But then again, the way she smiled at him, the way her eyes lingered just a little longer than necessary—it made him wonder. Maybe… just maybe…

The next week, everything changed.

They were working late one evening, finishing up a project that was due the next day. The office was quiet, most of the employees already gone, and it was just the two of them in the meeting room, typing away on their laptops. Wonwoo was focused on the task at hand, trying to wrap things up as quickly as possible, when Y/N suddenly broke the silence.

“Wonwoo, can I ask you something?”

His fingers paused on the keyboard, and he looked up to find her staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “Sure. What’s up?”

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip like she was gathering her thoughts. “Do you… ever think about what things could’ve been like if we’d been closer back in school? Like, if we’d been better friends or… something more?”

Wonwoo’s heart slammed in his chest. Her words were casual, almost uncertain, but there was a vulnerability in them that made his pulse race. He didn’t know how to respond—didn’t know what she was really asking—but he couldn’t lie to her. Not now.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Probably more than I should.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she leaned back in her chair, exhaling a small laugh. “I always wondered about you, you know. You were so quiet, so reserved. But you were always… there. I noticed.”

Wonwoo blinked in surprise. “You did?”

“Of course I did,” she said, smiling. “I mean, you were always one of the smartest in the class, but you never tried to stand out. I thought that was interesting. You seemed… different.”

He swallowed hard, trying to process her words. All this time, he thought he’d been invisible to her, just a background character in her life. But now, sitting here with her, he realized that she’d been paying attention too.

“I always wanted to get to know you better,” Y/N continued, her voice quiet but sincere. “But I didn’t know how. You were so hard to approach.”

Wonwoo felt a lump form in his throat. He’d been so afraid of getting close to her, so afraid of rejection, that he never gave her a chance to know him. And now, here they were, years later, finally sitting across from each other, finally talking about the things that had been left unsaid for so long.

“I was… scared,” Wonwoo admitted, his voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t think you’d ever be interested in someone like me.”

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze softening even more. “Why would you think that?”

He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were always so… perfect. Smart, popular, surrounded by people. I didn’t think I had a chance.”

Y/N shook her head, smiling gently. “You’ve always had a chance, Wonwoo.”

The words hit him like a tidal wave, and he felt his heart swell with emotion. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond to something he’d dreamed of hearing for so long. But before he could find the words, Y/N reached across the table, her fingers brushing lightly against his.

“I know we’ve never been close,” she said softly, her eyes searching his. “But I’d like to change that. If you’re open to it.”

Wonwoo stared at her, his mind spinning. Was this really happening? Was she really giving him the chance he’d always wanted?

“I’d like that too,” he finally whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Y/N’s smile widened, and for the first time, Wonwoo felt like maybe—just maybe—everything he’d hoped for was within reach. They sat there for a few moments in silence, the warmth of her hand lingering on his, and for the first time in years, Wonwoo allowed himself to believe in the possibility of something more.

That night, when he returned to the apartment, his friends didn’t even need to ask.

“You’re smiling like an idiot,” Mingyu teased, grinning from ear to ear. “What happened?”

Wonwoo dropped onto the couch, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. “We talked. Really talked.”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“And…” Wonwoo paused, still trying to wrap his head around it all. “She said I’ve always had a chance.”

The room went silent for a moment, and then Mingyu let out a loud whoop, throwing a pillow at him. “Finally! Took you long enough!”

Seungcheol laughed, clapping him on the back. “Looks like things are finally falling into place.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but laugh along with them, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. For the first time, he felt like the walls he’d built around his heart were starting to come down, and with Y/N on the other side, maybe—just maybe—his story was only just beginning.

[tmae3114]

Generally speaking I keep my fic ideas and etc close to my chest and only discuss them with friends, for a number of reasons (mostly related to my brain being weird or mean to me)

BUT

I have a few WIPs with solid foundations and names atm and ask games are fun and I do know how to keep things vague enough to avoid engaging Annoying Brain Mode

So, here’s a list of names for various WIPs of mine. Send me an ask with one and I’ll give you some random info about it :3c It might be random vague details, it might be the current provisional summary, it might be something completely different :3c

Do Not Go Gentle (Into The Dawn)

Once More (Unto Destiny)

How Our Bodies, Born To Heal

A Fistful Of Love And A Blade Made Of Faith

(I Must Be A) Poster Child Prodigy

Each Brave Step Forward

On The Horizon (There’s A Light)

(also you can send more than one ask if you feel like it)

[improbable-outset]

📄 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.1k

𝐀𝐎𝟑 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Secret mutual pinning, angst, emotional turmoil, mentions of insecurities, EVENTUAL SMUT, confessional sex, cunnilingus, unprotected p in v sex, long distance relationship

𝐀/𝐍: I didn’t expect this to be so long. Also hey @lazyjellyfish300 remember this blurb?? We’ve got the smut🥳

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Saying goodbye to you wasn’t part of Miguel’s plan. As you prepare to leave Alchemax for a prestigious new role, Miguel struggles with the realisation that he’s about to lose more than just a colleague.

“What are you doing?”

Miguel watched intently as you packed away your belongings in a box, clearing up your workstation. It wasn’t just a casual clean up— this looked like something more final.

You meticulously removed the photos from the wall, gathered your notes, and neatly stacked your research papers. The once vibrant workstation, full of personality, now looked eerily bare.

“Clearing my work station.” you said matter-of-factory. His chest felt heavy with uneasy tension, a sense of foreboding growing with each second.

“Yeah, I got that much, genius,” he shot back, stepping closer and stopping right next to your desk. “Why are you clearing your desk?”

You turned to face him wordlessly, his question only carrying more weight between the two of you like an unwelcome guest. His mouth went dry as he locked eyes with you.

Up close, you always managed to take his breath away, a quiet beauty that never failed to stir something deep within him. But today, there was a different kind of tension in the air, a sense of finality that he couldn’t grasp.

“Well?” he prodded, though he had a sinking feeling that whatever was going to unfold would change everything.

“Well uhm…I put in my two weeks notice today.”

He almost choked at your words. This was worse than he anticipated. He thought maybe you were moving to a different workstation, not leaving the company entirely.

“What?” his voice was barely a whisper. He could feel his pulse thundering in his ears. You were leaving— he was losing you.

“I’ve been offered a lead geneticist position at another company. But it’s in Raleigh, so…I’m gonna have to move.”

You had worked as a research scientist at Alchemax for several years, and because of the nature of your work, you and Miguel collaborated on a daily basis.

Discussing experimental results, debating research protocols— it all came so naturally. Over time, what began as a professional respect grew into something more personal. And now, that bond was about to be severed.

You were leaving for a bigger, fancier job in North Carolina. The thought twisted something deep inside him and he struggled to keep himself together.

“I can’t turn it down. I’ve busted my ass on the application and the whole interview process.”

“Congrats…” The word came out strangled, forced through clenched teeth. Trying to talk without being overwhelmed with emotions was like trying to hold back a flood with a paper dam.

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic.” you half-joked, but there was a note of concern in your voice.

You were right, his response wasn’t the best cover-up for his true feelings. The mere idea of you leaving filled him with dread, despair and most of all, jealousy.

“Of course I’m happy for you. I know you’ve been working hard— you deserve the opportunity.” He managed to hide most of his turmoil behind a cold wall of control. But deep down, the words felt hollow.

He knew he had no right to feel this way. You had every right to leave, to seize this incredible opportunity. This wasn’t something that came around often, and he didn’t want to be the one to hold you back.

You set the box down on the desk— the box that held all your belongings. “I’ll still be here for another two weeks.”

“Two weeks…” he echoed, the words sticking in his throat like a curse.

Two weeks. How was that enough time to prepare for losing you? What was he supposed to do after that? Just accept that you were gone? His heart couldn’t take that.

“I’ll visit Nueva York whenever I get the chance,” you said, trying to sound reassuring.

“You better. You’re not allowed to just drop off the face of the earth once you’re gone…” it was getting harder to keep his tone light.

“Of course…Nueva York and Alchemax aren't going to leave my mind anytime soon.”

“I’m sure you’ll think of us every now and then…and I’m certain this place won’t forget you…”

“I doubt it.” you scoffed, a bit of edge to your voice. “The higher ups will probably replace me before I even step foot in North Carolina.”

Miguel’s heart sank at the thought, though he knew there was some truth to it. The idea of someone else taking your place, of your work station filled with notes and projects by another rando, was too much to bear.

He could already picture the empty space where your personal touch used to shine through, replaced by some faceless new hire who was unaware how amazing you were

“Yeah, knowing them, they’ve probably already written up your job description, listing your position open for applications.” he sighed solemnly.

The company never had the best moral compass when it came to their employees, and would replace anyone that wasn’t serving their needs in a heartbeat.

“It’s okay, I’m sure I’ve left my mark here, even if I feel like I didn’t do much.”

Miguel almost let out a laugh in disbelief. You were always such a hard-worker, always a quick-thinker. You had single-handedly helped him out more times than he could count.

Another company had even recognised your talent and wanted you to work for them…yet you still doubted your capabilities.

“Are you serious? You’re irreplaceable. You’ve saved my ass more times than I could remember.” His voice was firm now, desperate to make you see things from his view.

“Mhmm.” You hummed. “Now, I’ll soon be the lead geneticist in another company, just like you.”

The enthusiasm in your tone was impossible to miss, and it reflected in your eyes. It should have made Miguel happy for you, and in a way, it did.

But the guilt still gnawed at him, guilt that he couldn’t match your excitement. Deep down, all he wanted was for you to stay, for purely selfish reasons.

“Yeah…just like me.” he repeated your words, the tiniest edge of bitterness creeping into his voice.

You didn’t seem to notice. “I guess all those late nights of research finally paid off. And all your teachings too.”

Miguel recalled all those nights together— just the two of you, the lab quiet save for the hum of machines and the scratch of pen on paper.

Mundane tasks became memorable simply because you were there. The memories sent a shiver up his spine, a bittersweet reminder of what he was about to lose.

It was a painful realisation that not everything lasts forever, especially the good things.

“Don’t count all this success as being attributed to just me, you did a lot of studying, too.” he chuckled lightly. “You really put in the hard work…you earned it.”

But even as he spoke, the words tasted bitter. Even if he was proud of you, it didn’t make the ache in his chest any less potent.

He glanced back at the box on your desk. No one could replace you— not in the lab, and certainly not in his life.

“But, I wouldn’t be here without you, so I have to give you some credit.” you smiled warmly. “If I ever win an award in this field and they make me stand on those podiums and talk to a huge audience, I’ll be sure to mention your name.”

Miguel felt his stomach flip at your words. He was at a loss for words. You’d mention his name if you won an award? He didn’t realise he had made such an impact on you— to be someone you viewed as admirable enough to acknowledge publicly.

The thought alone could possibly make him faint. To have his name mentioned in such a light by you…it was almost too much to handle.

He swallowed thickly. “Ah…you don’t have to go that far. I’m just some scientist,” he said coolly, though his pulse quickened. “Really, you’re gonna go places, make a name for yourself— you don’t need to credit me.”

“But I will. You've been a big part of my career here,” you insisted.

Your words hit Miguel square in the chest. You were adamant about recognising his role in your life. It was almost overwhelming, the way you considered him to be that much of an integral part of you.

He forced out a playful scoff, hoping to mask the surge of emotions rising in him.

“Yeah, I guess I helped you with some projects…but don’t go listing me as some co-author in your resume.”

You laughed softly. “Don’t worry, I know my limits.”

~

The next few days felt like treading on thin ice, where one wrong move could crack the fragile tension between the two of you.

Since the day you told him you were leaving, you’ve been unusually reserved, quieter than usual— a shift that didn’t go unnoticed by Miguel.

The sudden change in your energy tightened the coil of anxiety in his chest, and it was made worse by his inability to figure out why you were acting this way.

Whenever he would look your way, you always seemed distracted, lost in thought. Your responses were always brief and you would only speak when spoken to.

Miguel couldn’t help but feel concerned over you, but he was hesitant to ask you about it, not wanting to intrude or overstep any boundaries.

One evening, you both found yourselves working late again in his lab alone. The atmosphere was quiet— filled with the soft sounds of typing and the occasional shuffle of papers.

Miguel couldn’t stop himself from stealing glances at you. You were staring at your work, but he could tell your focus was elsewhere, lost in your own thoughts that were weighing you down.

As the evening wore on, the solitude of the lab and the waning hours seemed to offer the right moment. His concern outweighed his hesitation, and he turned his chair to face you.

“You’ve been quiet all day. Is everything okay?” He asked gently.

You looked up at him from your papers. The lightning highlighted the tiredness in your eyes, your expression weary and distant.

“Yeah, just thinking.” you mused.

“Is it about leaving? Are you upset?”

He could see the hesitation in your face, your eyes darting away from him and focused on the desk in front of you. “It’s not about leaving…well, maybe it is, in a way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been thinking about how I’ve been in relationships…you know, what I wanted, what I didn’t get. I’m starting to wonder if maybe I’ve been asking for too much.”

Miguel blinked, taken back by your admission. He hadn’t expected that, but now that you brought it up, he was curious to know more.

“Too much? What could you possibly have asked for that was too much?”

“Just…little things. Being held, feeling safe, someone who actually listens after a long day,” you replied. He didn’t miss the tinge of bitterness in your voice. “I thought those were normal things to want, but it was like… like they were a burden to give.”

Hearing you feel so unappreciated made his chest tighten with frustration. How could someone make you think you were asking for too much? You deserved everything you asked for and more.

“That’s not too much to ask. It’s not a burden— it’s what you deserve.”

This wasn’t a passing thought; it was clear you’d been hurt before. The idea that someone had made you feel unworthy of love you craved infuriated him.

If you were with him, you wouldn’t even have to ask for that. He’d give you everything you wanted, and then some.

You let out a tired sigh, still not fully convinced by his words. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever find that. Or I’m chasing something unrealistic.”

No, don’t think that.

“You deserve someone who will give you all of that.”

You looked up at him. He could tell his words resonated with you when he saw something hopeful in your eyes. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” he said— he kept his tone low, hiding the fierce enthusiasm he felt. He could go on about everything you deserved, but he didn’t want to come off as desperate. “And if you have found it yet, it’s not because you’re asking too much.”

There was so much more he wanted to say, so many things he wanted to do— but he held himself back. He wanted to pull you into his embrace, just to share your warmth.

He wasn’t going to confess to you, that wasn’t the smartest move. Instead he pushed his feelings down for your sake, and pretended his love for you was just platonic.

“Are you in a relationship?” you asked suddenly.

Miguel had to hold himself back from giving a puzzled look. You’ve worked together for years now— wasn't it obvious that he was single? Maybe he’d been too vague about his love life, that was probably why you were asking.

He thought that by never mentioning a partner, it made him seem more available to you. But it seems you’ve overlooked that.

Not that he was inexperienced. He had his fair share of relationships— some short-lived, others too casual to be called serious.

They were a balance of good and bad, each leaving him with lessons to learn.

But he could confidently say that none of them had ever made him feel the way you did. He longed to express that with you, to tell you why you had his heart wrapped around your finger. But he knew that would only complicate things more.

“No…haven’t been in one in a while.”

And you’re the reason, he wanted to add.

“What about you? Found anyone special yet?” A small part of him dreaded to hear you answer, even if either response wouldn’t serve him any good.

“No.”

If you weren’t leaving the company, that answer would’ve brought him joy. But now, knowing that you were available it made the situation more poignant— a reminder that he had missed his chance.

Ironically, it would’ve given him more clarity if you said yes.

He had gotten used to concealing his true feelings since the day you told him that you’ve given your two weeks notice. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

So he offered you a reassuring smile instead, “Don’t worry. You’ll find someone who will cherish you the way you deserve.”

I’m right over here.

From the look of your face lifting up, he knew he managed to sound convincing and encouraging.

“I do have my eyes on someone though…” you added.

Your words echoed in his head and wrapped around his throat like a vice. A storm of emotions hit him all at once, leaving him struggling to navigate through the confusion.

On one hand, he was dying to know who you were referring to. On the other, he felt shattered that someone else managed to make their way into your heart and he wasn’t even aware of it.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before speaking. “Oh really? What are they like?”

Each question he asked felt like digging himself deeper into a pit he might never climb out of. Even while he forced himself to act neutral, it was hard to predict when the nonchalant facade would eventually crack.

You let out a sheepish laugh before answering. ”Well…he’s pretty tall,”

Miguel’s mind raced through every tall colleague he could think of, analysing every conversation you’d had with them, and trying to think back to any clues that would give away your feelings for them.

Miguel knew he was probably being overly cautious, but his instincts flared up. It wasn’t just his jealousy— though there was no denying that he was feeling a tinge of envy— but he didn’t want to see you get hurt by anyone.

Especially after what you revealed to him earlier. But he brought those thoughts to the side for a moment and continued to listen to you.

“He’s… a little grumpy but that’s what adds to his charm,” you added. There was something reflecting in your eyes, a sparkle that he couldn’t quite grasp, but he dismissed it.

Grumpy? You found that charming? He thought back to all those times you had called him grumpy.

His stomach fluttered as he felt a new sense of hope. But he didn’t let that sway his judgment and got optimistic too quickly.

“What else do you like about him?” Miguel asked. Deep down, Miguel felt a change of heart and he was desperate to know more, hoping that there was even the slightest chance that it might be him.

“He’s always there when I need him, even though he tries to hide it, he secretly has a heart of gold.”

You were killing him, little by little, with every answer you were giving him. It was all the qualities he was proud to have, yet he still felt doubtful.

He managed a small smile, trying to hide the longing in his heart. “Sounds like a good man. I’m sure he’s lucky to have your affection.”

“Yeah. I really hope he feels the same. Otherwise, all those coffees I gave him would be a waste,” you let out a sigh, clearly lost in thought about the man you admired.

You couldn’t have been more obvious. His heart fluttered as he recalled all those coffees you would give him in the mornings, especially during your joint projects.

Thank the stars that he was a master at keeping a tight lid on his feelings. There was no way he was going to let his excitement show— not yet, not until he was sure

“Those coffees?” he asked. “Why do you give them to him?”

“I was hoping I’d stand out to him and not just be a colleague he sits with.”

“Stand out? What other things are you willing to do?”

“Maybe offer to help with his paperwork— if he doesn’t mind.”

Miguel couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but his heart swelled with happiness with each word. You wanted to stand out to him. Offer to do his paperwork.

You didn’t have to do all of that to get his attention; he had eyes on you for a long time, but all these little things you did were an added bonus.

“Do you think I should buy him more coffee?” you asked, you gaze locked with him, searching for his approval. You were asking for his opinion too.

“Coffee’s a good ice breaker. Maybe you could add a little note too, I bet he’ll notice you after that,” he kept his tone casual, but Miguel couldn’t stop the grin tugging at his lips.

You looked so eager, willing to take whatever advice. After all, if you were talking about him, you’d take his advice even more seriously, right? It only made sense.

“Maybe you could ask him out on a casual date, nothing too big. Just to see how he reacts,” he teased, way too excited with how you’ll respond.

Will you ask him out now?

“You know…I think I’ll call him now,” you got up to leave the room.

Everything came crashing down on him in an instant. His heart shattered, taking all his hopes with it. So, you weren’t talking about him after all.

“Ah, alright…good luck with that,” he tried to maintain a neutral tone, but the strain in his voice betrayed him.

The weight of his unrequited love pressed heavily on his chest, it was almost palpable. Each step you took away felt like a knife twisting deeper into his heart.

How could he have been so foolish? Of course, it wouldn’t be him.

From the sound of your footsteps, you walked a few doors down, away from his earshot. You probably didn’t want him to overhear.

Sadness and disappointment surrounded him like a suffocating fog as he slumped back at his desk. He hadn’t heard from you in half an hour.

You were either working up the courage to call your love interest or caught in an extended conversation. But what he didn’t expect was to see your name pop up on his phone screen when his phone rang.

Although he didn’t want to hear how your conversation went, he still wanted to be supportive. He loved you too much to ruin your happiness.

He cleared his throat, bracing himself for whatever you had to say, expecting to have his heart shattered again, before picking up the phone. “Hello?”

“Oh, don’t say ‘hello’ like you haven’t saved my number,” you teased.

Miguel forced out a chuckle, trying to match your lightheartedness. “You got me there. Of course I have your number saved. So, how did it go?” he asked, his voice filled with forced anticipation, even as his heart pounded in his chest.

“Well, that guy I was talking about earlier…”

You left the sentence hanging, as if daring him to grasp the meaning. Miguel cleared his throat, keeping his composure and hoping his voice wouldn’t betray his pain. “Go on…what happened?”

There was a pause that went on for a few seconds, but it was enough to make his stomach twist as he waited for your response. Finally, you spoke.

“Well, did you know that it was you and were just acting clueless? Or did you not pick that up, yet?” you asked.

Miguel froze, the words processed in his mind. For a moment, he was stunned into silence, his grip tightening around the phone near his ear. His mind replayed the conversation you had just shared to see if he missed anything.

Then, a small smile slowly crept on his face, a mix of disbelief and dawning realisation. Now, hearing you confirm that it was true, he couldn’t hide his relief and the warmth that spread across his chest.

“I…uh…had…my suspicions,” he stuttered, his voice thick with emotion. “But hearing you say it now…it means more than you know.”

He paused for a moment, realising he might be sounding too eager, too vulnerable. “But what did you mean when you said ‘did you not pick that up’? Was it…was it not obvious that I had feelings for you too?”

“No, actually.”

A soft sigh of relief escaped Miguel’s lips. He’d tried so hard to keep his feelings for you hidden, fearing rejection to avoid an awkward situation that might follow, especially with you leaving the city.

But knowing now that he hadn’t been as obvious he feared— that you hadn’t noticed— was a strange comfort. Still, a part of him couldn’t help but wonder how things might have been different if he’d confessed first. Would he have had the courage? Probably not, even with your imminent departure.

“Well…now that we both know how we feel, what does that mean for us? Are you…happy that I have feelings for you too?”

“Duh.”

Miguel let out a chuckle at your blasé response. The tension in his chest from earlier was starting to ease, allowing him to bask in the moment.

But the reality of your limited time here was starting to set in, dulling his joy with a stab of regret.

“So…you’re still leaving, huh?” he couldn’t hide the solemn tone in his voice.

“Yeah, I am. But that doesn’t mean this has to end before it starts.”

His heart stuttered at that. “You really think we could make it work.”

“If we both want it, I don’t see why not.” The determination in your voice was palpable, even through the phone. It made him feel more desired than ever.

“I want it. More than anything. And right now, I really want to kiss you.”

“Hold on, let me come to you,” you hung up the phone and Miguel could hear your footsteps getting closer.

Once you finally arrived, you looked back up at him. Miguel could see the eagerness and the tinge of mischief in your eyes.

“Kiss me please.”

At that moment, he knew there was no use waiting any longer. His lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this alive.

He couldn’t believe this was really happening, he had always dreamed of this moment but now that he was experiencing it in person, it felt too surreal to be real.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as his lips moved lovingly against yours. Breaking the kiss, he took a moment to study your face.

He wanted to kiss you again, to tell you sweet nothings that he had been holding back for so long. But he knew he had to compose himself and give you a moment to breathe.

“Lock the doors,” your voice echoed in his mind, sending his mind into a frenzy. He chuckled but still obliged, giving you both a newfound privacy.

Everything else felt like a blur and the next moment, he was unbuttoning your shirt and tossing it to the side. He didn’t waste any time doing the same to your pants.

His throat went dry when he noticed the wet patch on your undies, a sign that you were just as turned on as he was.

Just as infatuated.

It drove him crazy. As he leaned in, he felt your hands hike up under his shirt too. He took this as a sign to remove it, his toned body now in full view. His muscle’s glistened under the light.

He pressed your bare chest against his— the raw feeling of your skin against his was pure ecstasy. He lifted your body with ease and set you on a clear desk.

His body was still pressed against yours as he kissed over your neck and down your collar bone. He felt so lucky to have you in his arms like this, even better in his lab.

You were finally his…

He knelt down between your legs, his hands caressing over each thigh. His lips found your inner thigh, kissing over your skin, dangerously close to your core.

It was his ultimate goal to memorise every curve and crevice of your skin, what made you tick and all your favourite spots you liked to be touched. He wanted to savour this moment as much as he could.

His tongue slowly ran over your soaked cunt, finally getting a taste of you. Immediately, you gasped and your legs twitched in response.

You tasted incredible, or maybe that was just the heat of the moment. He continued to pleasure you with his mouth, his tongue tracing delicious, slow patterns around your sensitive bud.

He heard you gasp out his name which motivated to continue. His hand reached up to intertwine with yours, his touch grounding and tender as he continued to pleasure you with his mouth.

“Oh God…right there, Miguel—”

Your free hand reached into his scalp and gently tugged on his curls. Feeling your hips grinding against his tongue only drove him further, desperate to coax your orgasm.

That’s it…

Give yourself to me.

He knew the moment you reached your peak when he felt you tighten your grip on his hair and cry out his name. Seeing the way you threw your head back in the throes of your climax sent an overwhelming shiver through his body— a sensation he couldn’t describe.

Your body convulsed against his mouth as you squirted on his tongue— and he licked you clean eagerly. Finally, he pulled his mouth away, his tongue leaving your body with a final, tantalising flick.

He ran his fist across his mouth to rid your wetness before rising up to his feet. You were completely spent, your body limp and your breath came out ragged.

Your legs were still shaking from your fresh release. He couldn’t help but glide over your cheeks, his thumb tracing over your cheekbone.

He felt you lean into his touch as he savoured the feel of your skin beneath his fingers.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours.

You let out a shaky laugh, catching your breath. “Like this? All sweaty and musty? You must really love me then…”

Only you would throw a sarcastic comment after he ate you out. After a moment of stillness, you came down from your high. He spread your legs apart as he hovered over you on the desk.

The precum that leaked from his tip mixed with your wetness as he positioned his tip over your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself in and was immediately overwhelmed by your cushiony grip over his tip.

Your fingers gripped onto his biceps, keeping yourself steady as he pushed further. Once he bottomed out, you lifted your head to see the light bulge on your belly.

A sense of pride washed over him, seeing your eyes feast on the lewd sight of him filling you up. Every inch of him was all yours.

He dragged himself out with your wetness coating his dick before pushing back in again. His body moved against yours in a perfect harmony, every motion was driven to heighten the pleasure between the two of you.

As the ecstasy reached a new height, Miguel’s body trembled slightly. He couldn’t resist letting out a soft moan followed by your name, his voice filled with all the love he had for you.

“Just like that…” you murmured against his lips.

Hearing your praise, Miguel’s lips curled into a smile, his expression filled with a mixture of confidence and pride.

Every stroke hit a new depth, sending a shiver through both of you.

All he could think about was being connected with you in every way possible. Physically. Emotionally. He angled himself so his pelvic bone could rub and stimulate your bundle of nerves.

“Miguel-!”

You let out a cry when he changed his pace, your nails digging into his back. He wanted you to feel him for weeks, remembering this night. Each sharp, precise thrust, hitting your sweet spot over and over and driving you over the edge.

He could feel his own peak crawling up with each passing second. His thrusts grew more desperate and frenzied, aiming to chase his high with your body wrapped around his own.

“Look at me…I want to see you,” he breathed.

The sight of you under him, taking everything he was giving you, sent him over the edge. His body tensed as he reached the pinnacle of his own climax.

With one last thrust deep into your heat, his cum pulsated into you in strong waves. He stayed balled deep until each were drained and waited for a moment before he pulled his hips back.

He felt withdrawal as he released himself from your grip, his deflated dick now hung between his legs.

His body slumped weakly against yours, the intensity of the moment leaving him content and blissfully exhausted. The world around him faded into the background. In that instant, everything felt perfect.

The pulse in his ears gradually quieted to a gentle hum, and his muscles started to relax as he settled against you.

As he kept his arms around you, holding you close, he felt at peace for the first time in what felt like ages. It all felt so right— like this was exactly where he was supposed to be.

He wanted to stay like this, savouring the closeness, but your soft gasp tugged at his concerns.

“Are you okay?” he asked, still feeling lightheaded from the afterglow. “What’s wrong?”

You quickly sat up on the desk, adjusting your clothes with a sense of urgency. “We need to put our clothes back on.”

The seriousness in your voice jolted back into reality. The sterile scent of the lab and the harsh fluorescent lights snapped into sharp focus, reminding him where you were. He carefully pulled himself away from you, his mind scrambling to catch up.

As he gathered his clothes from the floor and desk, the remnants of your passion, he couldn’t help but glance back at you— disheveled, flushed and utterly captivating.

Once he was fully dressed, he looked at you with amusement. “I think we can slip out before anyone asks what we’ve been up to,” he teased with a grin.

You buttoned your shirt, still appearing slightly frantic. “Did we make a mess?”

Miguel scanned the lab, his eyes sweeping over the desk and the floor. He didn’t spot any obvious signs of a mess, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. The weight of what had just happened hung in the air.

Still, the room would be locked overnight— no one would see anything.

“Well…” he replied with a casual shrug. “I’m not too worried about any physical evidence. As long as they didn’t hear you cry out my name.”

You shot him a mildly annoyed look, pressing your lips together. “We should clock out before anyone suspects us.”

Just as you were about to move, Miguel gently pulled your arm. “Before we go…I need to know if this is something you truly want. Not just a temporary escape.” His voice was soft with vulnerability as he searched your eyes.

Your lips curled up into a reassuring smile. “Let’s go out to dinner and talk more there.”

Miguel’s eyes sparkled, the tension on his shoulders lifting. The idea of an intimate dinner, just the two of you, felt like the perfect addition to the connection you had just deepened.

He felt a sense of triumph as he allowed himself to experience this with you after the long, silent yearning.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d love to have dinner,”

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss on his cheek. “Come on then, let’s get out of here.”

Miguel quickly switched off the lights and locked up before taking your hand in his. The two of you stepped out into the crisp night air, leaving the lab— and its memories— behind.

~

Miguel sat behind the wheel of his car, gripping on the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. You both agreed that he’d drive you to the airport, allowing you to spend these last moments together.

The car ride was silent, save for the occasional crackling of the chip packet in your hands. Miguel's eyes flickered towards you as you reached for another chip. You seemed calm and collected, but he knew better.

He opened his mouth to say something, anything, to break the silence, but nothing came out. Words that normally flowed so easily from him were caught in his throat. What could he possibly say that would make it any easier?

“Do you want some?” you offered, holding out the bag.

He shook his head, lips twitching into a forced smile. “I’m not really hungry right now.”

His eyes were back on the road. The thought of food was the furthest thing from his mind right now. All he could think about was the impending goodbye as the streets of Nueva York blurred past.

“Are you okay?” your voice, a soft caress.

He let out a dry, humorless laugh. Of course he wasn’t okay. How could he be? But he nodded anyway, giving you a reassuring smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m fine…just a little nervous about dropping you off at the airport, that’s all.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either.

The truth was too raw, too painful, to voice. He didn’t want to admit how devastating he was and burden you with his feelings, not now.

“I’ve never done anything this big before.” you confessed. He could hear the uncertainty in your voice. “Moving to a completely different state…”

He felt a mix of sadness and pride in his chest. He was so proud of you for taking such a big step, but at the same time, he wished things were different and you could stay with him a little longer.

If only he had known sooner, maybe he would have had the courage to confess— to hold you close and never let you go. To have you to himself just a little longer.

“I know, it’s a big deal,” he tried to sound comforting. “But you’re smart, and capable, and I know you’re gonna do amazing.”

“Thanks, I needed that reassurance.” you sighed. “I’m a little nervous. What if I don’t fit in and I’m too…Nueva York-y for them.”

With one hand, Miguel reached over and gently squeezed your thigh, while the other gripped the steering wheel.

He tried to radiate some of his warmth and comfort, despite his emotions swirling like a vortex inside him.

“You’re going to fit in just fine. You’re the most adaptable person I know. And even if you are a bit ‘Nueva York-y’, as you put it, I think the people of North Carolina could use a bit of that.”

He glanced back at you, catching the flicker of unease in your eyes. It was refreshing to know that, despite your excitement, you were still feeling the same apprehension that had been eating him.

It gave a sense of connection— knowing this change was just as daunting to you as it was for him.

“You’re going to enlighten them with your 'Nuyorican’ charm, trust me,” he said lightly.

As the airport car park came into view, Miguel felt a shudder. The moment of truth was closing in with each passing second. The parking lot was busy, surrounded by the hum of engines and the distant echo of rolling suitcases.

Once he found a parking space, he switched off the engine and sighed— the sound heavy with the weight of unspoken words. Part of him wanted to stay rooted in his seat, to delay the inevitable just a little longer.

But he knew better. There was no escaping this. No loophole.

Even if it killed him.

He stepped out of the car and opened the trunk. The reality of the situation was hitting him as he helped you with your luggage. This was really happening.

Inside the terminal, the building was bustling with activity— people rushing to catch flights, families reunited, and others parting with goodbyes. The overhead announcements echoed across the vast space, creating a backdrop of noise.

But the chaos felt distant to Miguel, like it was happening in another world. His entire focus was on the small details of you— how tightly you gripped the suitcase handle, the way your eyes darted around and scanning signs to find where you were supposed to go.

Every little movement you made seemed to carve into his memory, as if he were trying to etch these final moments into his mind.

He tried to keep himself distracted by glancing at the departure board, watching to see when your flight’s status changed to ‘boarding’. Meanwhile, you checked in your flight and dropped off any checked baggage.

Once that was done, Miguel walked with you to the security gates. His heart grew heavier with each step. The moment of separation was looking closer and closer like a looming shadow.

“Alright…this is it…” you announced, finally reaching the security gates. Only ticketed passengers could pass, so this was where he would have to let you go.

There were a few guards already waving people through, urging the crowd to keep moving. The noise of shuffling feet, distant conversations, and the occasional beep of the scanners filled the air, but it all seemed muted to Miguel. He looked back at you one last time, his heart hammering in his chest.

He wanted to say something— anything— to keep you from leaving. Words like ‘don’t go’ or ‘I love you’ hovered on the top of his tongue, but he knew they were pointless. You were leaving, the ticket was booked, and nothing he could say would change that.

“I’m… I’m gonna miss you…” the word felt insignificant in the grand scheme of things. But they were the only truth he could manage.

He knew it was pathetic to confess that now, like it wasn’t obvious already, like it was going to change anything.

“I want to give you something…” you reached for your bag, and Miguel’s breath caught in his throat when he saw what you pulled out— a Polaroid picture.

He took the picture from you, a nostalgic smile spread across your face when he saw the image. It was a picture from your early days at Alchemax, back when he had still been pretending to be annoyed with you.

In the photo, he was giving his signature grumpy glare, arms crossed over his broad chest, while you stood behind him and grinning widely. You were not bothered at all by his gruff demeanor.

“I wanted to wait until the last minute to give it to you,” you rubbed your neck sheepishly.

Miguel chuckled at your words. It was so typical of you, waiting to give him something special at just the right moment.

“Of course you did.” he replied fondly, his fingers tracing the picture gently. He slipped the photo in his wallet, a place where he could keep it close. “It’s perfect…thank you,”

It was more than just a picture, it was a snapshot of a moment in time, a memory he’d hold onto long after you were gone.

You look back up at him, your expression earnest and vulnerable. “Bésame?”

“Con mucho gusto, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he closed the distance between the two of you.

He cradled your face in his hands, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. His lips traced over the contour of yours, savouring the moment before fully capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

The kiss was everything— desperate, filled with unspoken words and unfulfilled yearnings. He wanted to hold onto this moment forever, to keep you with him like this just a little longer, but he knew he had to let you go.

Reluctantly, he pulled away, though he rested his forehead on yours, his breath becoming in ragged gasps.

“Be safe, okay?” he murmured.

“I’ll call you when I land...if I get any signal,” you replied with a shaky smile.

You start to queue up for the security gates, your luggage trailing behind you. Miguel’s heart twists as the line slowly gets shorter, the distance between you growing with each passing second.

He couldn’t do anything but watch with his hands shoved deep in his jeans pockets. His eyes were fixated on your figure, memorising every last detail of you.

He knew that once you went through those gates, he would never be able to kiss you, or hold you, or touch you.

Just as you disappeared out of sight, behind the security gates, the airport intercom called out your flight number and announced the final boarding call.

He watched the departure board change to ‘In Air’ which was the final push to turn away. He walked back to his car, the Polaroid photo in his wallet burned into his psyche.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: @nina-from-317 @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @cupcakeinat0r @club-danger-zone @kavimoo

@fullmetalgizzy @frogs-and-oscar-brainrot @embearlyhere @soymiguelsesposa @twwcs

@safixiovi @tatatida @ghostsdoll @hyjionie @tomalymme

@saintdiior

Look, I know the smut seems a little rushed here but I didn’t want to focus on the spice in this story but rather the bittersweet, emotionally rollercoaster.

Ayrus xoxo

[tsireyasluvr]

Desperation

Neteyam x Human fem!reader

Authors note: i’ve been debating making this a mini series, let me know what you think! <3

Summary: you and neteyam have been fascinated by one another and each others cultures, spending every possible minute together. neteyam adapts a habit of sneaking out at night to see you, tonight being no different.

Warnings: 18+!! minors DNI!, aged up neteyam, neteyam is a munch, soft dom neteyam, praises, oral (fem receiving), grinding, whining, size difference, talk of first time (p in v) doesn’t actually happen tho, i think that’s it?

ever since neteyam met you, he’s been stuck to your side like glue. finishing his clan tasks and chores as quick as he possibly could to get back to you, and frankly he’s been spending more time in the lab than he ever thought he would. truthfully, he hated the place. he hated how it smelled so unnatural and how things were so colourless, almost un-life like. humans were fine, but he could never understand the way they lived. he never understood his brothers’ fascination with them either, he never did feel in touch with his human side. until he met you of course, you changed his perspective on a lot of things.

he still didn’t love the lab. but he liked the books you showed him, he liked the assortment of blankets you had and he liked how he could watch you scribble down your thoughts on paper at any moment. he liked the little things, that was undeniable.

he also liked you. granted, most of the human things he likes it’s really only because of you. but it was all incomparable to how he felt about you. everything about you was appealing to him, enticing and captivating. you were exciting, in an entirely different way than his reckless brother was. you were introducing him to new things every day, teaching him the way of your people and culture while he got to give you a personal look on his. the relationship between the two of you grew, and eventually you were spending practically every second together. innocent touches turned into lingering ones, and he couldn’t keep himself from going further.

he started breaking curfew for you, sneaking into your room at odd hours of the night, starting out with just kisses on top of kisses escalating quickly to him on top of you grinding his hips into yours for a little bit of friction. it was embarrassing really, how much he craved to be as close as possible to you even if it was just a kiss or your something as far as your hand wrapped tightly around him.

you were now sat on his lap, late into the night after he once again crept into your dorm within the lab, his large hands holding your waist firmly as you grind your hips against his.

“princess, slow down a little for me” he groaned against your lips as you kept speeding up your movements. even while on top of him, the size difference still had him towering over you, making it easy to lean in and trail your lips on his neck.

his breath catches at that, his face flushing as he takes a deep breath in. “i don’t wanna slow down. i want more” you whined, keeping your legs straddled around his waist. the truth is, you craved the man just as much as he craved you. neteyam consumed every single one of your thoughts, and the desperate grinding and touches have hardly been covering it for you lately. you craved something more, to take things further. you felt his cock press just right against your covered clit, your body feeling warm all over from the sensation, only becoming more desperate for him.

he chuckles a little at your whining, leaning over to look down at your furrowed eyebrows and parted lips. “you enjoying this that much?” he whispered, his voice soft and teasing as he pressed a kiss to your temple, holding your hips tighter as he ground you harder against him. you nodded frantically, hiding your face in his neck as you quietly asked him “can you go faster?”

your voice made him melt, he found your shyness around him so endearing. “yeah baby, whatever you want.” he whispered sweetly, his breath hot in your ear as he did as you asked, pulling back slightly to keep looking at your reaction. he was so obsessed with seeing your blissed out expressions, feeling proud that it was him who made you feel that good. he never was shy with you when it came to his sexuality, getting off on pleasing you and always chasing the euphoric feel of seeing you unravel for him, because of him.

the way his hips were angled had his cock brush up again your clit with every movement, making you moan out his name. he feels your fingertips trace down to his loincloth, fumbling with the strings holding it together, as if asking for permission. “go ahead, princess.” he lifted you up and off his lap like you weighed nothing, keeping you off momentarily so you can pull the loincloth off of him.

you did hurriedly, tossing it as far as possible from you once you finally got it off. he hissed as his cock was freed, feeling the tiniest bit of relief as the cold air hit it. you looked down anxiously, realizing just how big he really was and wondering if that’d ever fit inside of you.

you haven’t had sex yet, but you’ve talked about it. you’ve also been naked around each other plenty, even during innocent moments like cuddling under your mountain of blankets and quilts. you liked to claim it was for research purposes. it felt like now, and this moment, that’s what it was leading up to. the desperation and urgency felt different today, the air between you feeling thicker. it was unspoken, but acknowledged between you both. sometimes you felt like you shared one brain from how often his thoughts reflected yours.

he placed you down gently, cupping your face with one hand and holding your waist with the other, leaning in to kiss you hotly. he rubbed your cheek with his thumb, trying to soothe you as he felt you become nervous. “it’s just me, pretty girl. we’ll take it nice and slow, always” he said gently, looking into your eyes with his warm amber ones.

once you nod and grant him permission, he cradled you in his arms and laid you back on the cot, hovering over you. he pressed his lips to yours again, licking into your mouth as he trailed his fingertips down your abdomen and to your shorts, unbuttoning them with one hand and pulling them down your legs. his breath becomes heavier as he moved his hand over your core, rubbing circles into your clit slowly. you gasped at the feeling, your lips parting as you looked up at him. he’s used his hands on you before, but his touch sent a jolt of electricity through you every single time.

“are you okay, syulang?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he locked eyes with you. his pupils were blown, the warm amber colour barely seen now. “good, i’m good, really good” you panted, your fingers shakily reaching up to brush against his jaw. the eagerness from before was still there but slightly wavering, you realizing this was a lot more.. intense than you anticipated. he smiled down at you, chuckling softly. “you’re shaking” his voice laced with a bit of concern, but still smiling at you reassuringly. “yeah, well, maybe i’m slightly nervous.. can you blame me?” you say, gesturing down to his member, referencing the size.

“i want you comfortable, sweet girl. you know we can always wait, right?” he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, looking up at you with a gentle look in his eyes. you let out a breathe, trying to wipe your sweaty palms against your legs. “i know..” you look over his face, taking in his features and feeling your heart melt over the warmth in his expression.

“why don’t you hold my hand and try to relax, okay?” he lowers his hand down to yours, feeling you interlace your fingers with his as he smiles down at you again. you hold his hand tightly, bringing it up to rest against your chest as you press a kiss to his knuckles. his hand practically engulfs yours, reminding you of the size difference that strangely only made you feel more safe and protected now. he noticed the change in demeanour, leaning down to trail kisses from your ear to neck again, whispering “that’s a good girl”, his breath hot against your neck.

you mewl from the praise, him making you get more and more excited as you try grinding your pelvis against his, skin against skin causing you to whine and squeeze his hand tighter “Teyam, more”.

the words send a flush through him, growling slightly into the crook of your neck from your pleading tone. he licks a stripe up your neck, you feeling just how big the wet muscle alone is compared to your body, his tongue practically covering half your neck. he looks at you with his head tilted, his eyes meeting yours slowly. “you want more?” he says quietly with a slight smirk, his voice sounding a lot more sultry as his eyes rake over you, his fingers thumbing over the hem of your shirt. you nod at him, your big wide eyes looking at him with a slightly nervous but trusting sense. he let go of your hand, taking off the shirt and leaving you bare beneath him. he leaned in to capture your lips in his once more, making sure you didn’t have time to over think your appearance to him as he trailed his hand to your chest, lightly squeezing your breast. you moan into the kiss, your hands reaching to rest in his hair as you lightly tug at the braids.

he trailed his hand back down to your core, two fingers running through your slit, collecting your slick as he found the sensitive nub. he gently massaged circles into it, drawing another moan out of you. “n-nete..”

“shhh” he cooed, moving his fingers a little faster. “s’okay. feels good, yeah?” his voice sounds slightly hoarse as he admires your blissed out expression, smiling at your little squirms and mewls. “mhm..! yeah, just.. a little faster” you pant, bucking your hips into his palm, his hand covered in your wetness. neteyam chuckles at your eagerness, speeding up his movements before trailing kisses down your chest, lower and lower as he licks and sucks along your stomach before reaching your sensitive spot. he looks you in the eyes as he removes his fingers from your clit and replaces them with his tongue, the large muscle practically covering your entire pussy.

“oh god- Neteyam!” you yell, throwing your head back as your lips stay parted and your hand grips at his hair. he growls into your heat, lapping at your juices enthusiastically as he holds your legs open for him. “fuck, you taste so sweet, princess. so fucking delicious” he groans, slurping loudly at your cunt. you kept bucking your hips into his face, your face turning red as you mewl.

he keeps his eyes on you, not looking away for even a second as he swipes his tongue through your heat, beginning to suck on your clit as he slowly brings his finger to circle your pussy, slowly pushing it in. you gasp softly, your eyes widening as you looked down and gazed into his eyes, seeing the predatory look behind them as he started thrusting it in and out. you let out a silent moan, squeezing your eyes shut as you clutched the sheets beneath you, whimpering as you locked your legs around his head. he grinned, sucking more enthusiastically when he felt your thighs tremble.

“teyam, teyam, teyam!” you’re practically screaming now, feeling the knot about to unravel as your brows furrow in pleasure.

“what is it, beautiful?” he asks, pulling away momentarily to talk before delving back in. “i-i think.. i think i’m close” you whine, writhing beneath him. “yeah? gonna cum for me sweet girl?” he spoke into your cunt, tongue beginning to circle your clit as he keeps sucking. “mhm! y-yeah, fuck!” you squeal, panting before his movements get more intense, finally coaxing you over the edge as he grips your legs tightly. “that’s it sweetheart, always so good for me” he murmured, crawling back over you gently once your shaking body stills.

he laid next to you on your tiny bed, reaching an arm out for you and pulling you into his chest. you felt your body melting into him when you rested your head on his chest, breathing in deeply and relaxing in his hold. “feeling okay?” he whispered softly, running his hand over your back in soothing motions. you only nod your head, your eyes starting to close a little as you fought to stay awake, not wanting the moment to be over yet. he noticed this, chuckling softly as you felt the rumble of his laugh beneath you in his chest. “i can see that you’re tired, y/n. why don’t we just enjoy each others presence for tonight, hm?”

you looked up at him with a pout, your brows furrowed adorably as you lifted your head slightly to see him better. “you didn’t get to finish though. i wanna make you feel good too” you say, starting to lift your body up slowly and throwing a leg over his hip, propping yourself up to sit on top of him. he only pulls you back down to him, your legs still straddling his hips. “believe me, that was REAL good for me too. we’ll focus on the rest another night, okay?” he reached a hand up to cup your cheek, you absentmindedly tilting your face further into his palm as you looked down at him. he smiled at you, thumbing at your adorable pout. “rest. i’m getting tired too here, and i only have a few more hours with you until i have to go back”

with that, you let your body relax and rest against him, feeling him press a kiss to your temple as you prayed for the time to go by slow, not wanting to let him go back home just yet.

[projectionistwrites]

FOR SCIENCE | SUBJECT 1

In which the Moon Knight alter system presents a unique opportunity to settle the nature versus nurture debate, once and for all...

Steven Grant x afab!psychologist!reader (8.0k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: fetishization of mental disorders (DID), psychoanalysis, potentially unethical scientific practices, SMUT (dom/sub dynamics, fingering, oral (f! and m!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, intense overstimulation, non-ejaculatory orgasm, cumplay, cum eating, praise kink, dirty talk, use of the stoplight system) NOTES: steven is my baby. he deserves the world. i hope i did his character justice. DISCLAIMER: although i’m incredibly knowledgeable about psychology, i am NOT a professional. all psychoanalyses made throughout the course of this storyline are entirely my own, based on my own interpretations of the characters. in a similar vein, i am also not an expert on DID specifically (although i am well-read on mental disorders and diagnoses), so i apologize for any incorrect terminology or misrepresentation. don’t hesitate to call me out if i say something wrong!

← previous part | next part →

CASE STUDY: STEVEN GRANT

ROLE IN SYSTEM: Caretaker / Internal Self-Helper

ATTACHMENT STYLE: Preoccupied

CHARACTERISTICS: timid, introverted, sensitive, unassertive; inferiority complex; the epitome of a people pleaser.

SPLIT FROM HOST: assumedly a result of simultaneous emotional and physical abuse from mother.

TRAUMA RESPONSE: alter likely emerged as a way to maintain the childhood innocence of the host; a personification of the word 'hope'.

SEXUAL PRESENTATION: shy, reserved, submissive, responsive, doting; views relationship as transactional (i.e. his only value is derived from what he can provide to a partner, whether that be physically, fiscally, materially, or emotionally); incredibly receptive to praise and validation.

Silence.

It filled the room and weighed heavy in the air—only interrupted by the buzzing of the filter in Gus’ fish tank near the center of the apartment.

You swallowed.

Why did it have to be Steven first?

You knew why. You’d made the decision deliberately, carefully—Steven was the softest, most vulnerable and hesitant. The most emotionally mature, but also the most emotionally fragile. Sensitive, caring, empathetic, loving—he really, truly cared. That’s why he had to go first. This was more than just an excuse to have sex with you—this was intimacy, passion, a closeness he so desperately craved. And you knew, deep down, he’d be comparing himself to his other alters. Envying their confidence, their forwardness, their unapologetic sexual prowess. Steven had always felt inferior—you needed to prove to him that that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

But still. As much as you cared for him, as much as you were looking forward to getting to know him physically, in that moment, you desperately wished for a hint of Marc’s initiative, or even a sliver of Jake’s assertiveness.

Steven was sat on the couch, hunched over, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. Nervous energy pulsed from his body in waves—his clear stress wasn’t doing anything to help with your own trepidation.

You shuffled beside him, crossing one leg over the other at the ankles. You drew in a breath.

“Do you... do we need to go over anything again?”

He flinched at your intrusion on the silence—without sparing you a glance, he offered a brief shake of his head.

“Well, I think we should go over it one more time, just in case. So. Today is—is about you. Whatever you say goes. Obviously, I have my limits, but, I mean, I really don’t see that being much of a problem with any of you—except maybe Jake...”

You digressed, but the mention of his alters clearly ruffled Steven’s feathers, even if he hid it well. You continued.

“And—and you’ll be fronting the whole time. No co-consciousness, or interruption from the others. Right?”

Steven nodded again, more firmly this time.

“Okay. And lastly—well, I’ve thought about it, and—and I think we should be fine without condoms.”

That got Steven’s attention. His head turned to you, eyes wide with bewilderment.

“What?”

You looked away abashedly, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“I just—I’ve got the implant, and well—Marc gave me documentation confirming that you’re negative for any STI’s, which—so am I. So I figure—unless you’re gonna be having sex with anyone else in the time this experiment is being conducted, then—then I think we should be fine... for now.”

“You told us we had to be abstinent in the week between each experimental window.”

You laughed at this, amused at the incredulity in his voice.

“Oh, so you were planning on seeing someone else in between, then?”

His face flushed with alarm as he attempted to backtrack.

“Wha—no! No, I didn’t mean—you just—you said we should refrain from doin’ anything, as in—anything. So I just—”

“Relax, Steven, I’m just teasing you.”

You giggled, reaching to grip his bicep reassuringly. Your fingers making contact with his body seemed to jostle him—he stared down at the place your fingers wrapped around his arm, electricity crackling from your fingers and lighting a fire in his belly. He swallowed.

His sudden attention to your presence grounded you back into reality as well. You felt the taut muscles of his bicep flex beneath your hand, the parting of Steven’s lips and fluttering of his lashes making your breath stumble.

When he looked up at you, finally, his eyes were dark—lustful, desirous. Still, there was a sense of restraint within him, his diffidence preventing him from moving unto you further. You realized that you would likely have to make the first move.

“Steven.”

You spoke softly, drawing him in.

“Are you—do you feel ready?”

For a moment, he looked terrified, like a deer caught in headlights. He glanced away from you for a moment, trying to reason with himself, to will the anxiety away. You squeezed his arm.

“You don’t have to do this, Steven, really. It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“I want this.”

“But Steven, really, it’s alright—”

“No, you don’ understand—I really, really want this.”

His words were breathy, but certain, the desire in his tone undeniable. You felt your breath hitch at his confession, and before either of you had time to worry about it anymore, you closed the gap between you, pushing yourself up against his side and tilting your head so your lips met his. He whined into your mouth, his initial hesitance wearing off and making way for his insatiable hunger for your touch, your taste, you.

His hands reached to grip the back of your head, fingers threading in your hair as he pulled you closer, forcing your lips to meld against his deeply. You leaned into him, allowing yourself to shift into his lap, your thighs straddling his. As you settled your weight onto him, he audibly groaned as your core pressed against the hardening tent in his pants. Your hands traveled up his chest and along his shoulders as your tongue explored his mouth. He fought back with equal fervor, and you could sense that there was a hint of desperation in him—as if he was finally acting upon the months worth of repressed sexual tension between the two of you.

You pulled away with a gasp, coming up for air as you lifted your chin slightly, away from the chase of his lips. Instead, they began a sloppy assault on your throat, mouthing and teething at the supple flesh of your neck and down into your collarbone. You let out a breathy moan as Steven lavished your skin with attention, quickly gaining the confidence to suck a mark into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. You keened.

“God, Steven.”

The sound of his name falling from your lips was heaven. He pulled you back down for another searing kiss, and you offered an experimental nip to the swell of his bottom lip. He groaned.

“Christ, you’re a minx.”

His voice was throaty, gravelly, and you giggled at his comment as he pressed kisses to the corners of your mouth and the surrounding flesh of your cheeks.

“Should we... do you want to move to the bed?”

You asked quietly, and the man stiffened, clearly enticed by the proposal.

“Yes. Gods, yes.”

You regretfully pulled yourself from his lap and he followed immediately after, reaching for your hand as you guided him back towards his bed. It was neatly made, the corners tucked in and the blankets pressed. For some reason, it made you want to cry. You’d been at his flat plenty of times before, but never had you once seen his bed made up so tidy. He did that for you.

As you reached the end of the bed, you hesitated. You had taken the lead, carefully easing Steven into the interaction, but now, you needed to see what he wanted. You looked to him.

“What—where do you want me?”

He swore he almost blacked out at the sheer compliance that your tone offered. He had to squeeze his eyes shut tight in an effort to slow the rapidly building arousal in his groin—you hadn’t even fucking touched him yet.

“Would you—could you just lay down f’me, love?”

You smiled at him gratefully, offering a small nod at you followed his careful instruction. You shuffled up towards the head of the bed, turning to lie flat on your back with your head propped against the pillows. You looked at Steven expectantly—he was just watching you, fists slowly clenching and unclenching at his sides. Christ, you were a sight to beheld.

Cautiously, Steven lowered onto his hands and knees and crawled up towards you, allowing himself to hover over your body with his own, his waist slotting between the parting of your legs. He rested on his elbows, forearms framing your head as he gazed down at you. The sheer reverence and devotion in his eyes was almost too much to bear.

“Bloody hell, you’re gorgeous.”

He mumbled, fingers moving to stroke your hairline, tracing the curvatures of your face. You smiled softly before tilting your head upwards to close the small space that remained between you. These kisses were softer—slow, gentle, repeated slides of his lips against yours. It made you feel lightheaded.

You reached for the hem of his jumper.

“I—can I?”

You questioned against his lips, and he nodded slowly, sitting upright to help you pull the top up and over his head. He flung it to the side carefully, and you spread your hands out against the warmth of his torso, the ring finger on your left hand just barely brushing his right nipple. He hissed as the feeling of your cold hands pressed into his abdomen, but at the same time, the sensation was intoxicating. You let your fingers slide up towards his chest, skating across both of his hardened nipples before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back to you. He happily obliged, malleable under your touch, but you could feel his fingers twitching as if desperate to touch you. You pushed him back slowly, reaching to take off your own shirt.

“Wait.”

Steven panicked, and you froze, a flash of hurt cresting your face. But he just smiled gently.

“Can—let me.”

He offered, and you laid back, letting his fingers skim the flesh of your stomach as he gripped the hem and pulled the fabric away from you. You sat up briefly to allow him to pull it completely off, revealing your simple white lace bra beneath it. You watched him drink you in, completely infatuated. His hands skated up your sides, over the curve of your hip and across your ribs, but they halted before they reached any further. You nodded in encouragement.

“It’s okay, Steven. You can touch me.”

A whimper escaped his mouth as he slowly reached up the palm at your breast, still contained in the cup of your bra. He could feel the peak of your nipple through the fabric as he massaged the flesh carefully, kneading and squeezing. The sigh you let out spurred him on, and he reached behind you towards the clasp, eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort. Instead, he was met with a warm smile and nod, and his fingers worked to unclip the material beneath you. After a few brief seconds of his fumbling, his brows furrowed in frustration.

“What the—bollocks, why’s it so bloody hard to undo?”

Your saccharine giggle melted his annoyance as you offered him assistance, reaching behind you to unlatch the hooks. When it was finally unclasped, the cups loosening their hold on your breasts, he let out a shaky breath, gripping the straps and watching them glide down your arms until you were topless beneath him.

His movements were slow, deliberate, as he watched your body react to his touch. Tracing beneath the swell of your left breast, dancing across the valley between them, repeating the movement on the right side. Goosebumps trailed in his wake as he stared, utterly entranced at the softness of your skin and the rhythm of your breathing.

His eyes met yours once more, and stayed there as he slowly leaned down and pulled your right nipple into his mouth. You mewled at the action, back arching just slightly as his other hand came to cup your other tit, massaging it gently as he sucked at your flesh. He switched sides, lavishing your other nipple with equal attention, and even offering an experimental nip to the swollen bud, earning a cry from you—a mix between a sharp pain, quickly soothed with the swipe of his tongue.

You hardly noticed when his lips began pressing kisses lower across your chest, your breasts, across the expanse of your stomach, until his lips were skating over your navel, just above the button of your jeans. His dark eyes found yours, and he offered you a silent question, to which you immediately nodded. His trembling fingers reached to undo the button—with which he had much more success than your bra—and pulled the zipper down. As he slowly coaxed the fabric away from your skin, he pressed two hot kisses against each of your hip bones before pulling the pants completely off and discarding them nearby.

His hands roamed the newly exposed skin of your thighs, fingers creating divots in the soft flesh with his firm grip. He leaned down and pressed his lips against your calf, sliding them upwards until he reached your inner thigh. You whimpered at his proximity to where you needed him most, but he evaded you by switching to mirror the same path on your other side. Your toes curled in frustration.

“Steven.”

You huffed, head thrown back, and his head popped upwards, eyes wide with concern.

“Stop teasing.”

His gaze softened, and you felt his lips press right above your pubic bone, where the waistband of your panties was settled.

“Sorry, m’love, I couldn’t help it. I’ll make it better, I promise.”

His fingers gripped the waistband of your underwear and pulled them down your legs, successfully leaving you completely bare beneath him. You had half the mind to feel insecure at the exposure, but when you caught sight of the look on Steven's face, his eyes transfixed on the sopping folds of your cunt, any hesitance was thrown out the window.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

He whispered, letting the pointer finger on his left hand just barely graze between your pussy lips to gather some of your wetness, causing your hips to jolt. He let out a short ‘ha’ sound at your reaction to his touch.

“Is this—s’this all f’me?”

He looked at you again, lips parted and eyes hooded. You nodded vigorously.

“Yes, Steven, yes—all for you.”

He rewarded you with a groan, his finger offering another, firmer swipe through your folds, easily sliding through with the slick of your arousal. The tip of his finger caught on the hood of your clit and your hips jumped again. Instead of removing his finger, he slid it back downwards, slowly circling the entrance of your pussy with careful ministrations. Before you could even ask, he pushed his middle finger deep inside you, curling forward, and almost instantly, the pad of his digit nudged at the most sensitive part of you. You cried out at the abrupt sensation, hips unconsciously grinding down against his hand. He smiled wickedly.

“Ah—there you are.”

He mumbled to himself, repeating the motion once more to ensure he had located the spot where your sensitivity peaked. Again, your body followed the movement of his hand, and he easily added a second finger, slowly beginning to pump them in and out of you, all while continuing the well-received come-hither motion. You squeezed your eyes shut, core muscles clenched as pleasure spread from your cunt upwards, and then his thumb found your clit and you were reeling.

“Oh, fuck, Steven, shit—oh God, I can’t, m’gonna—”

His free hand came up to stroke your hair tenderly, eyes peeling away from where they were watching where his fingers sank into you to ogle at the face you'd make as you climaxed.

“That’s it, love. Doin’ so well. C’mon, give it to me.”

Your orgasm reached its peak, toes curling and back arching as you let out a salacious, pornographic moan, thrusting in time with Steven’s diligent fingers as he coaxed every last drop of pleasure from your dripping folds. Your skin buzzed with sensitivity as the waves of stimulation rippled through you—your breathing was labored when you came down from your high, sinking back into the mattress and grounding yourself back in reality.

Steven pressed a kiss to your lips, which you accepted gratefully, although your energy was significantly less than his—he didn’t seem to mind. He pulled away, just barely, noses brushing together in a moment of intimacy. You felt dizzy.

“So good, Steven—make me feel so good.”

You rambled, hot breath fanning across his face. He glowed at your praise, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. Even after your first orgasm, your hunger for him was nowhere near sated. Your walls were clenching around nothing, desperate for the hot drag of his cock inside of you.

Something resembling a whimper came from the back of your throat, and Steven’s eyes found yours, softening.

“I know, darling, I know. S’alright, I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.”

Your fingers trailed down his stomach and covertly ghosted over the skin right atop the waistband of his jeans. Fuck, he still had his jeans on?

You reached for the button, and Steven took the hint, pulling them off of himself rather ungracefully and tossing them to the side. He was left in just his boxers, and when your hand stroked over the hard outline of his cock within them, he hissed, almost as if he were in pain. He recoiled from your touch just slightly, and you felt brief concern at the reaction. He squinted one eye open at you, wincing.

“Careful, please, love, I—don’t want this to end too quickly.”

“Whatever you want, Steven, I’m yours.”

You breathed, fingers caressing the side of his face and beneath his jawline. He grunted at your words, still fighting to maintain control of his body. It only served to turn you on more. When your fingers once more reached for the band of his boxers, he interrupted you with a kiss.

“Patience, love, s’alright.”

"Want you so bad."

You cried against his mouth, absolutely desperate, and you felt the stutter of his exhale as he pulled away.

“I know, I know, but I—Gods, ’m sorry, but I just have to taste you.”

You barely had time to process his words before his head was between your thighs, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the inner flesh between them. Your eyes fluttered closed just as he licked a long, experimental stripe between your folds, making you jerk up towards him involuntarily.

Your cunt was puffy and swollen from your previous orgasm, but Steven wasted no time diving in. He let the tip of his tongue dance around your bundle of nerves, suckling it into his mouth and humming at the taste. The vibrations traveled all the way through you, and you moaned, head thrown back in ecstasy. You tried to force your legs from caging him in, but when he noticed the strain in your muscles, he tucked his arms beneath your thighs and let your knees rest on his strong shoulders, allowing him an even better angle with which to pleasure you.

He changed course, tongue now prodding at your entrance, pushing in and out carefully and slowly. At the feeling of your walls clenching, Steven jostled just slightly, the bridge of his nose rubbing against your clit just right. You cried out, fingers flying to fist at his dark curls, pulling him back in against you.

“Fuck, do that again, Steven, please.”

Steven wasn’t one to deny you of what you wanted. He obliged, repeating the motion, his tongue penetrating you rhythmically and his nose pressed against your clit in a way that had you seeing stars. You thighs tightened around his head, and you felt more than you heard the groan that it pulled from him. You were suddenly teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

“God, Steven, gonna make me cum, don’t stop, please—”

Steven maintained his pace, smart enough to know not to speed up or slow down or change up his rhythm at all as your toes curled. You briefly opened your eyes, and the sight in front of you toppled you over the cliff—Steven’s dark eyes staring up at you, the lower half of his face buried in your cunt, his hips rutting up against the mattress unconsciously as he watched you come undone. You practically sobbed as the shockwaves overwhelmed you, your thighs squeezing Steven’s head and holding him in place as you tugged at his hair. He happily lapped up your arousal, the taste of you lingering on his tongue when he finally pulled away after you had stopped squirming.

You tasted yourself on his lips when he kissed you, and the sight of your slick coating his chin and smeared across his cheeks was one of the most attractive things you’d ever seen. You smiled at him with hooded eyes, still coming down from your high.

“Please, will you fuck me now, Steven?”

You pleaded, and Steven groaned, pressing his still-covered cock against the heat of your pussy.

“Oh, yes, please, can I?”

He asked for confirmation, because of course he did, he’s Steven, and you nodded feverishly, watching with lustful eyes as he pulled his boxers down, his length finally released from the confines of the fabric. It stood at full height, long and big but not too thick, and you practically felt yourself drooling at the sight. His head was flushed a deep reddish purple, sheened with precum that had accumulated there. There was a prominent vein that ran up the underside of his shaft, and all you wanted to do was run your tongue along it. Steven caught you staring and grimaced, moaning lowly.

“Christ, darling, you keep lookin’ at me like that and ’m not gonna be able to last.”

His hand reached down and gave a few strokes to his cock, pumping it as he moved in towards you. He leaned down over you once again, eyes finding yours, and you felt the tip rub up and down your folds a few times. Steven’s lips were parted in pleasure, his breathing ragged. You felt the head of his cock barely breach the entrance of your pussy.

“Is this—are you sure?”

He asked you one final time, fingers reaching to stroke your hair. Instead of answering, you pulled him in for a sloppy kiss, and slowly, slowly, he pushed into you.

The groan that escaped him was hellish, sinful, practically animalistic as he sheathed himself within you, pushing in to the hilt until he was buried completely in the warmth of your walls. Your eyes never left his face, absolutely living for his expressions of pleasure—his pinched brows, parted lips, heavy breaths. His eyes were squeezed shut as he held himself there for a moment, offering you time to get settled. You didn’t need time. He had opened you up plenty, and your wet channel practically swallowed him with need.

“Alright?”

He breathed, checking to see if you were experiencing any discomfort. You nodded at him and offered a roll of your hips upward, your clit rubbing up against his pubic bone deliciously. He whimpered, pulling his cock out just enough before rocking back into you. You mewled, pressing your face into his shoulder as he repeated the motion, pulling out a bit more each time as he gained confidence and momentum. Soon, he was thrusting into you steadily, each move punctuated by barely audible ‘uh, uh, uh’ sounds from his lips as he lost himself in the feeling of you.

“Yes, Steven, fuck. Fucking me so well, such a good boy.”

That awoke something in him, and his pace faltered just barely, hips stuttering as he let out a high-pitched whine.

“Shit, shit, don’t—you can’t just—I’m not gonna last, Y/N, fuck.”

The look on his face was pained, sweat sheened on his forehead from how hard he was restraining himself. You wanted—you needed to see him fall apart.

“Want you to cum for me, Steven.”

You hummed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and he whimpered, shaking his head as he continued pounding into you.

“No, please, not yet, want—want you to cum on my cock.”

He sounded desperate, frantic, but you could feel within yourself that you weren’t going to get there soon, and he couldn’t hold out much longer. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him into you as you cradled his face in your hands, forcing his eyes on yours.

“Need you to cum, Steven, please—please, please, need you to cum for me—”

You clenched your muscles, walls clamping down on him, and with a sharp cry of your name, his cum spilled deep inside you, cock fully nested in your cunt as his spend coated your walls and filled you with warmth. His hips kept thrusting into you, almost of their own volition, forcing his seed deeper and deeper into you as he grunted with each move, face contorted in a look of sheer bliss.

Your hands were stroking his back, fingers tracings patterns on the soft skin as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in the crook on your neck, his cock still sheathed within you.

“Good boy.”

You whispered repeatedly, lips pressed to his temple as he caught his breath and tried to slow the rapid thumping of his heart.

“Such a good boy.”

He let out a sigh, nose pressed into the side of your neck as he closed his eyes, allowing himself a few moments to sit in the moment and really feel it. The softness of your body beneath him, the comforting swirl of your fingers on his back, the quiet hum of praise eliciting from your lips. He wanted to live in this moment forever.

You shifted, just slightly, from beneath him, and he immediately jumped into action. He pressed a chaste peck to your lips before pulling out of you slowly, taking a second to appreciate the view of his cum leaking out of you before he made his way to the bathroom, grabbing a warm wet washcloth to clean you up. When he came back, he just had his boxers on, but the toned taupe of his skin still made you blush. His eyes regarded you warmly, reverently, as he wiped away both of your combined arousals from your folds, touch gentle and careful. When he was done, he reached onto the floor to grab his jumper, sitting back up and offering it to you. You smiled graciously, holding your arms in the air like an expectant child as Steven slipped it over your head, pulling your arms through and straightening it down over your body.

God, you looked good in his clothes.

He crawled beside you, nestling in next to you, body curling to fit the curvature of your side. His head found its place in the crook of your neck, the smell of your skin sweet, and he hummed in contentment, relaxing into you. You smiled softly, reaching up to stroke his hair.

“Is... Is this what you’d normally do after sex?”

You asked carefully, hesitantly, afraid to lose the intimacy of the moment. Steven bristled at your words, just slightly, before he sank further into your embrace.

“I mean... in what little experience I have, yeah, I’d say so.”

He offered, voice laced with grogginess, his eyelids drooping. You giggled quietly at his sudden exhaustion, finding the sight quite endearing.

“So you want me to stay, then?”

He lifted his head at your question, worry reflecting in his big brown eyes.

“Did—do you not want to?”

He asked hurriedly, preparing himself for your rejection, but you shook your head defensively.

“No, no! I’m just—this is about you, and what you want out of sex. Do you... I mean, would you expect me to spend the night?”

Steven’s stare was reminiscent of a puppy as he looked up at you, seeming almost lost. Hesitantly, he nodded his head, confirming that he wanted you to stay with him. You smiled softly, pressing a kiss atop his forehead.

“Great—then I’ll stay.”

He relaxed back into you, eyes closing almost immediately, his breaths slowing. After a few minutes, you’d assumed he’d fallen asleep, but then his voice called out softly in the silence.

“M’sorry, by the way.”

Your brows furrowed.

“Sorry? For—for what?”

A long sigh. He buried his face further into your shoulder, hiding himself.

“I didn’t get to—I mean, you weren’t able to—I wanted you to, you know—before me.”

Oh.

His innocent avoidance of vulgarity melted your heart, as it was obviously something he struggled to speak about regularly. You pulled your head back, turning to face him, and he lifted his eyes, cheek smushed against your collarbone. You smiled at him, a hand coming to stroke his cheek.

“Don’t be sorry, Steven. It was perfect.”

You assured, and although he would normally never believe it, something in your eyes was genuine. His lips turned upward at the corners.

“Yeah?”

He asked, excited at the prospect of your validation, and you laughed shortly, smiling wide.

“Yeah.”

With that, Steven let his body meld against yours, finally allowing himself to relax completely and relish in the feeling of being so close to you.

Your mind was already racing with ideas for tomorrow’s trial.

POINTS OF CONTENTION:

- being open to unconditional care without obligation of reciprocation

- feeling adequate and worthy of affections

- accepting praise and compliments without denial or doubt

TREATMENT: - receive without giving - deserving of everything and anything (should not have guilt over being pleasured) - high praise and validation

Twelve hours, that was the deal. You needed at least twelve hours apart before you could begin the second phase of research. Partially to record the data you needed and begin developing a profile, but mostly because you knew that both the boys and you would need time to recuperate before going at it again.

Especially Steven.

Standing outside his apartment door, you were somehow more nervous this time around than you were yesterday. You’d spent the night with him, wrapped in each other’s arms, and you’d left early that morning, promising to return in the evening after the appropriate time had elapsed. You’d showered, eaten, relaxed, but mostly, you’d planned. The key to this study, you’d realized, wasn’t actually the sex at all—it was about challenging the alters, exploiting their vulnerabilities. Exposure therapy.

Sexual interactions are intimate. They are reflective of some of our deep-rooted, unconscious desires, and are significantly related to events that occurred in our childhood that shaped our attachments styles. Certain sexual preferences, turn-ons, fetishes, and kinks, are indicative of different cognitive dispositions. You were trying to figure the boys out—using what they wanted to get to what they needed.

You had predicted Steven’s diagnosis from the start.

When the door to his flat swung inward, his eyes were crinkled at the corners from his smile. He looked soft—rosy pink cheeks, mussed brunette curls, baggy sweats—almost as if he’d just woken up. You returned his grin, slipping past him and into the threshold of his flat.

The door slammed shut behind him, and you turned to him, surprised to be met with a slow, deep, passionate kiss, his lips lingering on yours for just a moment before he pulled away.

You blinked.

“Wow.”

You whispered, slightly reeling. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks. Steven looked down sheepishly.

“Oh, goodness, I don’t—m’sorry, love, I wasn’t really thinking, I just—missed you, s’all.”

He confessed, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully. His words pulled at your heartstrings and you walked into him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your chin on his chest so you were looking up at him.

“No, don’t be sorry, just—took me by surprise.”

You smiled.

“Hell of a welcome, though.”

He smiled, letting out a nervous breath.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You nodded, tilting your head upwards to capture his mouth with your own again. He hummed against you, one hand coming to cup the side of your face and the other pulling you in closer by your waist. His tongue swiped at your bottom lip, and you immediately submitted, parting your lips to grant him full access. He started walking backwards towards the couch, but you pulled away to stop him.

“Bed.”

You whispered, your fuck-me eyes almost making him feel faint. He nodded obediently, kissing you again, and changed direction, guiding you to the other side of the flat. The back of Steven’s calves collided with the mattress and he fell backwards into a sitting position onto the bed, but you stayed standing between his parted legs.

“What’re you doin’, love?”

He asked, laughing almost nervously. You just smirked down at him, leaning over to capture his lips once more. You hands were on his shoulders, traveling down his back and around his neck. His found your hips, fingers digging into the flesh there as you continued your passionate making out. Finally, you pulled away, but stayed close, nose still brushing his. His eyes were closed.

“Steven.”

You whispered, and he hummed in acknowledgement, an expression of contentment on his face.

“Are you ready?”

His eyes fluttered open, his gaze focusing in on you. Your lip was pulled between your teeth, as if contemplating something.

“Ready? For... for what, exactly?”

You leaned a bit away from him, standing up to your full height. You looked down at him, stroking his hair comfortingly as you addressed him.

“We’re—I’m gonna try something, okay? But I need you to know that you can stop me at any time. Do you know the stoplight system?”

His big brown eyes looked up at you, and he shook his head.

“It’s a technique for safe words. So if I’m doing something and you want me to stop, you say red. If you need me to slow down, you say yellow, and if you’re doing okay and want me to keep going, you say...”

“Green.”

He finished for you, slightly breathless with anticipation. You nodded down at him proudly.

“Yeah, you’ve got it, good boy.”

You heard the way his breath caught in his throat at your praise, and you pressed a soft, quick kiss to his lips.

“So—are you ready?”

The way he looked at you—eyes filled with such wonder, such reverence, such infatuation—filled you with so much pride and confidence. God, you wanted to ruin this man.

“Gods, love, you’re makin’ me a bit nervous.”

He admitted sheepishly, but his breathing stuttered as you slowly lowered yourself to your knees in between his legs, placing one hand on each thigh and coaxing them farther apart. He was watching you intently.

“Don’t be nervous, sweetheart, it’s okay. But remember—you just tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

He slowly nodded, waiting earnestly for your next move. You reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it off of him and tossing it to the side. His pants followed shortly thereafter, leaving him only in his boxers. You could see just how hard he already was for you—excitement bubbled in your stomach.

He reached for your shirt, but you tutted at him condescendingly, gently guiding his hands away from you.

“No, sweetheart—this is about you.”

You whispered, returning to your position on your knees in between his legs. He was leaning back, his arms stretched out behind him as he held himself up, watching you. Your fingers were stroking at the skin of his upper thigh, where the leg of his boxers ended. Slowly, your fingers passed over his bulge with a barely-there touch, and he hissed at the ticklish sensation, the muscles of his thighs rippling with strain.

While his head was tilted back and his eyes were closed, you took advantage of his temporary distraction and leaned forward to place opened-mouth kisses on his cock through his boxers. The warm heat from your breath passed over him and he groaned, watching as you finally reached up to remove the final barrier between you.

He shifted his hips up to help, and you pulled his boxers down his legs and off of him completely—now, he was completely naked before you, and you were fully clothed.

Perfect.

You settled back in between his legs, fingers slowly creeping up his inner thigh and towards his weeping length. You looked up at him through your lashes, where he was waiting with bated breath.

“Listen to me—you’re gonna cum whenever you want to, whenever you’re ready, okay, Steven?”

He whimpered in response as your fingers skirted around his base. When he didn’t verbally answer, you stopped.

“Okay, Steven?”

“Yes, yeah, alright, yeah.”

He nodded frantically, acknowledging your instruction, and you rewarded him with a grin.

“Good boy.”

Your fingers finally wrapped around the base of his cock and he sighed, groaning as he watched you lean forward and allow a string of spit to dribble through your lips and down onto his awaiting length. You coated your hand with the slickness and started a slow, steady pace, pumping him with a slight twist of your wrist. He whimpered, particularly sensitive when your thumb stroked at the sensitive head at the end of your long up-and-down strokes.

“Shit, Y/N, oh, Gods...”

He whined, his hips slowly starting to react to your pace by thrusting upward into your fist.

“There you go, Steven, doing so well.”

You praised, speeding up the pace of your hand a bit. His lip was pulled between his teeth, as if focusing intently, and you let your other hand come up to cup at his heavy balls. This earned a low groan from him, his hips jolting with each twist of your wrist.

“Shit, shit, you’ve got to slow down, or else—oh, fuck—”

“It’s okay, sweetheart, I wanna see you let go. It’s okay.”

You whispered sweetly, maintaining your speed but tightening your grip just slightly. The muscles in his abdomen were visibly straining, and you could tell he was close.

“Come on, sweet boy. Cum for me.”

He let out a breathy whine, and you could feel the tightening of his balls as his stomach clenched.

“Oh, fuck, I’m cumming, Y/N, oh, mmmmh—”

You kept pumping him as thick spurts of white spilled from his tip, dripping down the sides of his pretty cock as he throbbed beneath your touch. You allowed his spend to drip over your fingers and knuckles as you continued stroking him, pace slowing just slightly, but not entirely.

His head was thrown back, still reeling with aftershocks, and—fuck.

He jolted when he felt the hot sting of your lips, tongue swirling over the head of his cock, cum still dripping over your hands as your wrist twisted around the base. He cried out, hips thrusting upwards, his legs spasming involuntarily as you began bobbing your head up and down repeatedly, eyes on his face as you watched his face scrunch up in pain.

“Oh, Gods, fuck, fuck, what are you—oh, Gods, s’too much, I can’t, stop, please—”

His hands were fisting at the blankets atop his bed, trying his best not to bury his fingers in your hair as you pulled off of him with a gasp, but your hand kept going.

“You gotta use your words, sweet boy.”

You reminded with a sympathetic tone.

“If you want me to stop, use your words.”

You leaned forward to clean up his release from the sides of his cock, tongue gliding at the same speed as your hand. He was hissing through his teeth, legs still kicking every once in awhile with overstimulation. He wasn’t responding, so maybe you should stop, maybe—

“Fuck, fuck—green! Green, I’m—it’s green.”

He cried, and you wrapped your lips back on his cock, starting to bounce your head once more. The cries that were escaping him were delicious—pathetic whines and whimpers, begging incomprehensibly as you tried to keep his cock hard beneath your touch. It was working, because you could see his abdomen clenching again, and each of his panted breaths was paired with a short grunt.

“Oh, fuck, I don’t—oh, gods, it’s—m’gonna cum again, oh, shit, oooh—”

You pushed down on his cock as far as you could take him, and the second he hit the back of your throat, he felt his orgasm rock through him. His legs curled around your back instinctually, holding you in place as his hips thrusted into your mouth. This was different, though, this—his muscles were contracting, balls tightening, but it wasn’t accompanied by his cum down your throat. You gagged on him and he practically yelped, one hand finally reaching up to grab at your hair. He pulled you off of him, and you gasped for air. Your face was red and there was spit smeared across your cheeks and down your chin. When you looked up at Steven, his eyes were red and there were tears in his eyes. Your hand was still on his cock, pumping slowly. His legs were still twitching.

You stood up, finally releasing him, and he collapsed backwards onto the bed, arms eagle-spread on either side of him, panting. But then he heard the sound of clothes hitting the floor, and when he looked up at you, you were undressing.

He stared at you incredulously, and you smirked at him, discarding your pants and panties simultaneously, leaving you completely bare. You approached the bed again, swinging your leg across Steven's waist to straddle him. You held yourself up just a bit so you were hovering over his cock.

“What, you think we’re done already?”

You teased, sinking down to rub your dripping folds over his still half-hard length. His hips jumped at the feeling.

“No, no, I can’t, not—”

He whimpered, and you leaned forward to shush him, giving him a quick kiss. His bottom lip quivered.

“Such a good boy, Steven—you can give me one more.”

You nodded encouragingly, and he whined, his head pressing back into the mattress with frustration. Your hand reached to stroke at his chest.

“Words, Steven. Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

You offered, suddenly serious, and he took a few deep breaths, tears trailing down his cheeks. When he opened them again, he looked wrecked, but he met your gaze.

“Green.”

It was barely a whisper, but you heard it. You reached down to wrap your fingers around his slick length once more, stroking him to coax him back to full height. He was still mostly hard, as his second orgasm had occurred in the midst of his refractory period, so fairly soon, his tip was prodding at your awaiting entrance and you stifled a mewl.

“There we go, sweet boy. You ready?”

His brows were pinched, but he nodded, and you slowly, carefully sank down on him, burying him into you all the way to the hilt. He was crying now, sitting upright to wrap his arms around you and hold you close against him as you gave him a moment to adjust. His face was pressed into your shoulder.

“Doing so, so well, for me, Steven. Just give me one more, okay? Whenever you want, whenever you’re ready, give it to me.”

You encouraged, lips pressed against his ear, and you slowly lifted up your hips, sinking back down onto him as he whined into you.

“Oooh—oooh—”

“Shh, shh—I know, sweetheart, I know.”

You cooed, cupping the back of his head with one hand as you continued to roll your hips, grinding back and forth against his lap. You were entirely focused on Steven and helping him reach his peak, but still, the way the tip of his cock prodded at something deep inside you was addictive.

“Such a big cock, Steven, fills me up so good.”

He was panting, you could feel his thighs trembling beneath you as you bounced on him, picking up your speed.

“Being such a good boy. Can you give me one more, huh? Think you can?”

He was sobbing, hips jolting every time your weight came to settle back down onto his balls, skin sticky with sweat as you held him close to you.

“Oh, please, please, please, I’m so close, oh fuck—please, I can’t—”

You bounced on him harder, feeling the ripple of tension in his shoulder blades as his body was wracked with sobs.

“Oh, yes, gonna cum, gonna cum, Y/N, gonna—oh, oh, oh fuck, fuck, fuck fuck—”

His teeth sank into the flesh of your shoulder as his cock pulsed within you, and you granted him the kindness of stopping the roll of your hips so he could thrust into you, his seed painting your walls and filling you with warmth. You could feel the hot, wet tears from his eyes against the skin of your shoulder, and you held him close to you, cradling his head against you and rocking him gently.

“Good boy, Steven, so proud of you. Did so, so well for me. My sweet, sweet boy.”

You peppered kisses to the crown of his head, burying your face in his curls as he clung to you desperately, and you stayed there until you felt the drumming of his heart slow and his breathing even out. You slowly, carefully peeled yourself away from him, his softened and sensitive cock slipping out of you as you shakily got to your feet. He whined at the loss of contact, reaching for you, but you shushed him.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

You followed his lead from yesterday, cleaning yourself up in the bathroom before bringing a damp rag to wipe away the arousal that was drying against his thighs. He hissed at your touch, but you gently cleaned him up, returning to the bathroom again. You considered slipping his jumper on, but for some reason, you felt the need to be as close to Steven as possible. You’d pushed him to his limit, and you wanted to be there for him in every sense of the word.

When you came back to the bed, you gestured for him to crawl up towards the pillows. He obliged, albeit a bit shakily, and you pulled the covers back for him as he curled up beneath them. You joined him immediately after, fitting your body to the curve of his back and wrapping your arms around his warm abdomen. You pressed a few gentle kisses against the back of his neck, the top of his spine, across his shoulders. He hummed in response.

“You feel okay?”

You asked quietly, words muffled in his skin. He scooted away so he could turn to face you. His eyes were red, but there was a glimmer of calmness in them—the high-strung Steven looked truly relaxed.

“Feel floaty.”

You laughed at his drawled words, hands reaching up to cradle his face in your hands. Your thumbs stroked against each of his cheeks gently, soothing.

“You really did so well, Steven. Thank you.”

Your eyes were soft, and you saw the way his lips quirked at the corners at your approval.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get to—I mean, if you’d still like to—”

You sent him a glare, and he immediately silenced himself, gaze casting downward and away from you.

“No. This was about you, Steven, about you feeling good and that’s it. It was perfect. I loved it.”

His eyes brightened.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You assured, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. He sighed, shutting his eyes briefly as a warm, fuzzy feeling overtook him.

“S’just—wish I’d gotten the chance to—”

“Next time, Steven, okay?”

You regarded him carefully, tone gentle. His brows furrowed.

“But—my turn’s done. S’just—Marc and Jake, and then—”

“Next time.”

You reiterated, and when your words finally sank in, the smile that lit up his face was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him, embracing you tightly like he never wanted to let go.

TAGS: @kezibear143 @gingermous

[glittervame]

Lets go make a slpash

Pool party/ water balloon

This post is going to be part of the Jinxed July by @thatdammchickennugget and @finalgirllx check it out if you want to know more!

Sorry its short, I didn't really have a plan for this because I found out about the challenge out late. I don't think I have a tag list for Mattheo but tell me if you want one.

Mattheo Riddle x FEM! Reader 18+ Basically just smut, Unprotected P in V (Wrap it before you tap it), degradation, hinted overstimulation

Mattheo's eyes widened as Y/n emerged from the bathroom in their shared room in Malfoy manor. He'd seen her in swimsuits before, of course, but there was something about this particular one that seemed to highlight every curve and angle of her body in the most flattering way possible. It was a two-piece number with a plunging neckline and high-cut bottoms that had been a gift from her friend Pansy, and it was clear that Pansy had excellent taste.

Y/n noticed his stare and smirked, twirling around to show off the full effect of the ensemble. "Like what you see?" she asked, her voice teasing.

Mattheo coughed, trying to clear his throat and regain his composure. "I-I mean, yeah, you look... you look good."

"Just good?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.

He took a deep breath and forced himself to look away, focusing on the book he'd been reading. "You look great, Y/n. Really."

Y/n grinned and winked at him before sauntering over to the mirror to check her hair and makeup. She knew she had him flustered, and she enjoyed it a little too much. It had been a while since she'd seen him like this, and it was a nice change of pace from their usual bickering and banter.

They had just been so buys hanging out with their friends that they hadn't got time to be by themselves in a while. It was summer break, and they were all staying at the Malfoy manor for a month-long vacation. It was the perfect time to strengthen their friendship and maybe explore something more, or so Y/n hoped.

Y/n had had a crush on Mattheo for what felt like forever, but she was never sure if he felt the same way. They had always been close, almost like siblings, but lately she had been noticing that their friendship had been taking a different turn. 

There was a spark between them, something that made her heart race every time their eyes met or their fingers brushed against each other's. But she knew that Malfoy manor was not the place to be making any big romantic moves. There were too many people around, too many eyes watching. Plus, she didn't want to ruin their friendship if he didn't feel the same way.

"Alright, I'm ready," she announced, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her waist. "Let's go make a splash."

Mattheo nodded, still trying to get his thoughts in order. He had noticed the change in their dynamic too, but he wasn't sure if it was just his imagination or if there was something more there. He didn't want to jump to conclusions and risk losing her friendship.

They headed outside to the pool area, where their friends were already gathered. Pansy, Blaise, and Draco lounged by the pool, sipping on butterbeers and chuckling at some inside joke. Ginny and Hermione were splashing around in the water, while Ron and Harry were engaged in a heated debate about Quidditch strategies.

The group greeted them with cheerful hellos, and Y/n couldn't help but feel a little nervous as she approached the pool. She had never felt this self-conscious before, but she was determined to enjoy herself. She took a deep breath and dove into the water, the cool liquid enveloping her and washing away her nerves.

The day passed by in a blur of laughter, games, and good-natured rivalry. The sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the manor grounds. The group decided to end the day with a game of hide and seek adding their own twist to the game, the loser got pelted by water balloons by the rest of them. As they counted down, Y/n took the opportunity to sneak away to a secluded spot she had discovered earlier in the week.

It was a small grove of trees, hidden from view of the pool area, and she hoped it would be the perfect place to catch her breath and gather her thoughts. She had just found a comfortable spot when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

Her heart leapt into her throat as she realized it was Mattheo. He looked around, spotting her tucked away in the shadows. "Found you," he murmured, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"find your own hiding spot," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

He stepped closer, his eyes dark and unreadable. "I think I like this one just fine."

The air between them grew thick with tension, and Y/n's heart raced as she took in his wet hair and the droplets of water that clung to his skin. "What do you want, Mattheo?"

He took another step closer, so that they were only a breath apart. "I want to know if this is just me," he whispered, his hand reaching out to lightly brush her cheek. "Or if there's something here."

Y/n's eyes searched his, looking for any sign that he was joking or teasing. But all she saw was earnestness and vulnerability. 

"There's something here," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've felt it for a while."

Mattheo's hand moved to cradle her face, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in the softest of kisses. It was a moment that seemed to stretch on forever, filled with promise and potential.

When they finally pulled apart, Y/n felt like she was floating. "Is this...are we..." she stumbled over her words.

Mattheo grinned, his eyes shining with excitement. "Let's not overthink it, Y/n. Let's just enjoy this summer, and see where it takes us."

Well where the summer took them was you getting pounded into. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer still. You feel the heat between your legs, the ache that only he can soothe. You moan into the kiss, arching your back as you press yourself against him, needing him to touch you.

His hands slide down your back, gripping your hips before moving up to cup your bottom, squeezing gently. You feel his fingers dig into your skin, leaving a trail of desire down your spine. You whimper into his mouth, wanting more. You need more.

He picks you up, carrying you over to the bed. You watch as he kicks the door shut before lowering you down onto the mattress. His lips trail a line down your neck, sucking and nipping at your skin. You tilt your head back, arching into the sensation. You can feel his erection pressing against your core, begging to be let in.

He slides his hand between your legs, parting your folds. His fingers are rough against your skin, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. You gasp as he circles your clit, teasing it expertly. You buck your hips against his hand, needing more. You need him inside you.

"Please, Mattheo," you whisper, your voice hoarse with desire. "I need you."

He groans, his fingers leaving your aching folds to unbuckle his belt. You watch in anticipation as he pulls his pants down, revealing his hardness. He straddles you, positioning himself at your entrance. With a deep breath, he pushes inside you, filling you completely. You cry out at the feeling of being so completely claimed, your body clenching around him in welcome.

He begins to move, his hips rocking against yours. The friction between you is exquisite, sending sparks of pleasure through your entire body. You arch your back, meeting his rhythm as he thrusts deeper and deeper. You can feel him getting closer, can feel the tension building inside him.

"I'm close, cara mia," he breathes, his voice rough with need. "Come for me."

You moan, your nails digging into his shoulders. The sensation of being so close, of feeling him inside you as he reaches his climax, is almost too much to bear. You feel the wave of pleasure building within you, threatening to overwhelm you.

"Mattheo," you whimper, your body tensing as the sensation crashes over you. You cry out his name, your body pulsing around him in a release of pure ecstasy. You feel him follow you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he comes deep inside you.

He collapses on top of you, their sweat-slick bodies sticking together. You breathe in the scent of him, the heady mix of sweat and arousal. Mattheo kisses your neck before brushing off the tears on your cheek, "You can go again yeah?"

You nod, a sly smile playing on your lips. "As many times as you want."

"Good" He thrusts back in harshly, his hand finding its way to your neck. He squeezes gently, a hint of dominance in his eyes as he sets a punishing pace. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

You moan, your body responding to his touch, his claim on you. This is what you've been waiting for, what you've been dreaming of. You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him on, eager for more of him.

Your hands claw at his back as he pounds into you, each thrust hitting that perfect spot deep within you. You feel yourself building towards another climax, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

But he never lets her cum after that first one, he keeps her on the edge, her eyes glazed with lust and desperation. His grip on her neck tightens, and his teeth graze her earlobe. "You're mine," he whispers, his voice a dark growl. "Say it."

"Yours," you gasp, your voice barely audible. "I'm yours."

He smiles a cruel twist of his lips, and slams into you one final time before pulling out, leaving you trembling and gasping for air. You look up at him, confusion and need written all over your face.

"Not yet," he says, his eyes gleaming. "We're just getting started."

And so as the night goes on, he continues to tease you until you become a sobbing mess of pleasure, begging for release that he never fully gives.

[fatescaprice]

hihi!! could I req some platonic aventurine hcs with a teen!reader?

platonic aventurine and teen!reader

content warnings: none

note: aa my first request !! this was v fun to write so thank you for sending it in, anon! also thank u to the aventurine liker friends i bothered abt this . ive never written him before . u know who u are (i also know What u are /lh)

i think i turned it more familial than i was planning but i still hope you enjoy ^_^

Regardless of how you met — whether you’re biological siblings or coworkers or more akin to a stray he picked up on his travels — it’s not much of a surprise to his subordinates to know that AVENTURINE plays favourites when it comes to you. He’s come to see you like family, after all, though whether that’s more of a blessing or a curse is up for debate on your part.

He definitely seems like the type to spoil you. You want to catch a game in Taikiyan? No worries. Want to try some authentic Xianzhou street food? Easy-peasy. He’ll call you a brat, a handful, but every time he’s already brought out his credit card before the word has even fully left his mouth.

The rather… demanding nature of Aventurine’s job often calls him away on business trips, and even if you can come along he tends to snag a little trinket for you as a souvenir, or lets you pick out one for yourself. Either way, when he’s not around, he has one of his grunts look after you — he calls it chaperoning, but the way he ruffles your hair makes it feel more like it’s supposed to be babysitting. Sure, sure, he knows you can take care of yourself, he’ll say, but think of it like deposit insurance. Same difference!

He just loooves teasing you. With the way his silver-tongued, corporate lingo comes out almost as second nature to him, if he happens to throw in a snide little insult or two it’s usually hard to tell until after he’s already said it, and he’s long since shifted his attention to something else, all while wearing the smuggest, most infuriating smile.

He claims this is a privilege for him and him alone, though. The annoyed look on your face is only funny when he causes it, he claims — so just let your dependable elder brother take care of any nuisances, okay?

[sh00kspeared]

Can we talk about Johnny's bi erasure in-game? Because really, it makes me kinda mad.

Now, I'm not the kind of person who shouts 'homophobia' at everything because it's just not my way of things... but the amount that Johnny's attraction to men has been completely shafted throughout the game is really a disservice to him and to all the people who ship their male characters with him. A few examples:

Cutting or making really hard to trigger the line where Johnny says he got a lap dance from a man at a gay strip club (I've seen some people claim they experienced it, which is why I think it may still be in the game)

Johnny saying he didn't sleep with Kerry because he had a dick despite the official, director-sanctioned game guide saying that he did.

Johnny telling female V that the two are arguing "like an old married couple", yet telling male V that they're arguing "like two geezers on a park bench." (Johnny's definitely not the kind of guy to change his language depending on the gender of person he's with).

Never, ever alluding to any of his flings with male characters outside of the strip club line despite him saying that he did swing both ways now and then.

Now, why do I care so much about this? Because it's really sparked more debate than necessary. This post got hate for making him "gay" Cyberpunk 2077 on X: "Johnny Silverhand 🎤 Art by: @painperdues https://t.co/ABiBzSCZvm" / X (twitter.com) and so did this one Cyberpunk 2077 on X: "V and Johnny, Johnny and V… By: @hanbyeo0526 https://t.co/JlGNBmRYJH" / X (twitter.com) (I believe some of the comments have been deleted since because I don't see a lot of the meanest ones there anymore). Mind you, after the latter was posted, a fem V x Johnny post was made not too long afterward and it got markedly fewer hate comments. Also, funny story, my old male V x Johnny post is the third most controversial post of all time on r/lowsodiumcyberpunk at the moment (please go downvote it if possible; I wanna be first again lmao /hj).

But, all this to say, much of the playerbase sees Johnny as an alpha straight manly man when he's... well... not. While many people including me assume that the choice to keep his bisexuality under wraps is due to his addled memory in Mikoshi misremembering the fact that he canonically slept with Kerry, I just think this is a really odd thing to use to demonstrate that. Of all the things the devs could've chosen to display this, they chose one of the things that is most likely to get male V x Johnny shippers belittled and seen as the 'lesser' version of the ship for just existing.

They chose to erase a massive part of Johnny's identity, either to prove the point of his memories being addled or because they were scared of backlash. I just don't see how it would've been so hard for him to allude to some of his male flings more often, make the dicky twister line easier to trigger, and just not have him say that he didn't sleep with kerry because he had a dick. Ffs CDPR, stop being so dodgy your bi characters' identities.

[mecachrome]

Hi k! If you feel like it, do you have any favourite Oscar facial quirks?

omgggg anon this is only my favorite topic ever!!! (kidding but also not really 🧡)

i'm a lot like oscar tbh in that i have something of a deadpan stare and usually speak in a monotone but when i DO properly react to something i am veryyy uncontrollably expressive lolol, which i feel like is the same with him and the one million things constantly going on in his face!!! 😭 he definitely has a lot of little quirks / "tics" i guess for lack of better word that i adore so much...

^ first off one of the best ones is the way he always moves his mouth to the side (see also), but i'd say my favorite overall is just his full nose + face scrunch ! as shown in MMMM DEBATABLE and the blind rankings one that i drew earlier t__t and also the 1st gif of this gifset!!! i'm guilty of constantly bunnycoding ojp and that expression is trewwlyyy on top... as well as another quirk that's quite bunnycoded which is whenever he sort of awkwardly grimaces and shows off his teeth idk if you know what i'm talking about 😭

of course another fav has to be his eyebrow raising and just overall eyebrow Mobility, it's so fun because they're very straight and slope downward when his face is resting but they ARCH perfectly when he raises them and he can also do the like 🤨 seth everman look which is iconic 2 me. tbh i like how much he enjoys Squinting at things in general LOL

i've also spoken about how the buzzfeed uk video has such a wealth of oscar facial expressions and imo part of this is the informal and relaxed setting on top of the fact that he was being forced to overthink and react to an inherently silly concept so we get the ultimate combo of CASUALLY EXPRESSIVE OSCAR!!! prema challenges have a similar vibe but imo this is still different because it's fairly removed from a motorsport setting so he's kind of just vibing... another v endearing quirk from this video is his eye twitching / blinking that you can see in a LOT of oscar content, i feel like it's a once you notice you never stop noticing it thing because he does it all the time and i find it really cute because it kind of makes him squinch his cheek too... miss cutieful....... SIMILARLY but also from the buzzfeed video this is one of my favorite examples of how much he (involuntarily imo) WIDENS his eyes (2) when talking or listening to something, here's another moment of him doing it back in f4 so you can see it's a long-ingrained habit.

sorry i'm literally giving you the most random ass deep cuts alkdfshaldsfh but i also remember watching ted's race notebook from miami and noticing oscar talking to a few mclaren employees during the team photo and something i find so endearing about him is when people call his name / try to get his attention and he does the >whips head around and widens his eyes with a polite little smile< thing like AGHHH... qt TT___TT ok i'm going off-topic now but the surprised smile he gave lando during the miami post-race debrief will haunt my memories forever because it was so Open !!!

anyway re: the grimacing he also kind of has a neck tic he does where he stretches his neck out... and i've noticed that he's also just kind of sensitive/particular with his neck in general and is always adjusting his collar where it sits on his skin, which again is off-topic but i find really cute because i can relate (sensitive to textures) hsdafhk.

let me stop talking but last but not least i'm obsessedddd with the way he pouts in the post-quali vid from canada this yr <3 and also his tendency to lick/bite his lips which always does great legwork in terms of the heart eyes piastri narrative and his apparent thirst for lando HKLFDSHLH which while i endorse wholeheartedly is definitely mostly just an unconscious habit of his... but i think rpf is fun so who cares!!! LOL i hope this makes sense idk if i described anything properly 😭🧡

[siilvan]

bloodsport – V

prologue | one | two | three | four | interlude

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: after a talk with price, you decide to make a risky move. keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, mentions of canon-typical violence, makarov's usual bs

word count: 4.3k

note: a very sincere thank you to everyone who sent support and waited so long (a month) for this update :') not super proud of this ngl, i'll try to make the next chapter better and sooner lol

"something to confess?" price utters, brows furrowing as he stares you down with a confused look.

you wring your hands together, feeling the perspiration on your palms even through your gloves. "yes, it's about makarov—"

what's left of the building around you rumbles, pieces of the wreckage crumbling into smaller pieces and falling apart. price tears his gaze from you and glances around before patting your shoulder.

"whatever it is can wait. we need to get out before the rest of this collapses on top of us." he says while turning away and motioning for you to follow, graves and the shadows already starting to move ahead. you huff to yourself and jog after him, sticking close to his side until you reach the sizeable breach that he was leading you to.

you try in vain to talk again once the team is safely outside, but graves speaks up the second you go to open your mouth.

"we need to find where they moved that control center," he says, one of the shadows nearby already grabbing his radio – communications expert, you realize after a moment. "i'm wiling to bet it's still in the city, probably a smaller base."

price nods to graves from where he's standing next to you. "might be in an entirely new spot. tell the squads to keep their eyes peeled." he looks at the communications expert at the end of his warning, directing it at him, and gets a thumbs-up in reply.

"captain, i—" you start, before getting interrupted again.

"we'll discuss this after the mission, lieutenant." price mutters, giving you a tight-lipped smile. "i promise."

you bite your tongue and try to swallow down the lump in your throat, giving him a confirmatory nod of your own. the team moves on from the derelict building, with graves and his shadows splitting off after one of the strike teams radios about a suspicious spot. price and you end up assisting the bravo team with the second-largest base; for once, you're happy to see enemies in a location.

most teams clear out their sectors without much issue, securing canisters of chemical gas and weapon caches, but the supposed nerve center isn't anywhere to be found.

after hours of searching under the scorching sun, price and graves come to a mutual agreement: cut your losses and extract with what you did manage to get your hands on.

the flight back to base is quiet for the most part. everyone's too exhausted to fuss over anything, allowing you to sit in relative peace as you debate on what to say to price. the intel from makarov – the mole within your group – replays in your head over and over again, adding to your ever-growing level of stress. if anyone notices your leg bouncing practically the whole ride, they don't comment on it.

you're chasing the captain to his office the moment you touch down, pushing the heavy door shut behind you as his eyes fall on you.

"never seen you this frazzled, lieutenant." price remarks with a soft chuckle, moving to rest against the front of his desk with his arms loosely crossed over his chest. "what's bothering you?"

you blink at him, the words that you've been wanting to say suddenly dying on your tongue. you want to tell him, you really do, but what will he think of you? what if he takes you off the team for this? brands you as a traitor for working with the enemy?

"petra? y'okay?" price asks, leaning towards you.

you wave the question off and clear your throat. "yeah, i just, uh..." you trail off, before taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly, resigning yourself to your fate. "i've been getting intel from makarov."

shock briefly crosses price's face before it returns to a somewhat neutral expression – alarmingly neutral. you know the look, you've seen it a hundred times.

he's calculating his response.

"it started when i was captured," you stutter out, trying to explain. "it was just the information on shepherd at first, but then he showed up at my apartment after you sent me home— there's a mole in our team, whoever it is put a tracker on my phone, and now shepherd knows that we're onto him—"

"lieutenant." price interrupts, his voice as cold as the ice in his stare, shutting you up with little more than a startled whimper in reply.

he pauses, his jaw tight. you stare at him, wide-eyed and waiting for a furious response, but when he speaks again, his voice is soft.

"tell me everything you know. everything."

you draw in another breath and nod your head slowly. "one of the new recruits – someone who arrived recently – is working for shepherd, keeping tabs on us. his men are targeting the one-four-one; after the building collapse, one of them tried to sneak up on me. makarov found him before i did and took him out, but—"

"wait, he was there?" price all but growls, his arms falling back to his sides as his hands clench into fists against the tabletop.

you nod, again, shrinking under the barely-kept tension rolling off him in waves. "i didn't know he'd be there, it wasn't planned," you say, gaze falling to the floor. "but, he's not important right now. what is important is stopping shepherd before he uses the conflict in al-mazrah and urzikstan as an excuse to start a global war."

price doesn't reply at first, but you can see the gears turning in his head. evaluating, scheming, doing what he does best. a painful beat of silence passes between you, prompting you to speak again, uttering words that will earn you a medal, a grave, or life behind bars.

"makarov's given me intel before, captain. he has eyes in places that we don't, more resources than us, more freedom to act—"

"petra—" price cuts in, but you keep talking.

"—if you let me go undercover," you pause, staring into his eyes, searching for approval in his gaze. "i can get the information we need and act on it. shepherd, makarov... we can eliminate them in one fell swoop. i'll use makarov's resources, then take him down from within his own group. we can't do this clean. the gloves need to come off."

you step closer to him, lowering your voice to a quiet murmur that hardly reaches him. "you said it yourself: at the end of the day, somebody needs to make the enemy scared of the dark."

price clicks his tongue before shaking his head, an amused chuckle tumbling from his lips. "this is risky, you'd be inserting yourself right into his inner circle," he comments, tilting his head at you. "do you really think you'd be able to fool him?"

"he's already offered me protection," you say. "i'll figure out a way to gain his trust." you add, grimacing.

"normally i wouldn't approve something like this, but... for whatever reason, he seems to want you on his side. we might as well use that to our advantage." he concedes, earning an affirmative hum from you.

"i'll give him a response, then. you won't regret this, captain."

⋆⋆⋆

"i'm surprised you've called so quickly." you can hear the amusement in his voice after he answers the phone. "have you come to a decision?" makarov asks.

you let your eyes flutter closed and inhale deeply through your nose, hand clenching and unclenching at your side.

"i have." you reply after a long moment. "are you really wiling to offer me protection from shepherd?"

the grin on his face is evident despite you not seeing it. "i am. all you have to do is help me kill him."

you stifle a surprised laugh. "you're asking for a miracle like it's a small favor." you mutter, to which he sighs, heavy through the speaker.

"i'm confident in your abilities, lieutenant. i will arrange a meeting point and send you the coordinates and time. don't be late."

"punctual. i look forward to it." you respond, sealing your fate as you end the call.

once again, just as you return, you're departing again. you haven't stayed anywhere for longer than a day since escaping the prison, and yet, here you are, preparing to deliver yourself to the maw of the beast. it's almost poetic, just how quickly you've leapt back into danger after weeks of wanting nothing more than to get away from it.

true to his word, you receive a set of coordinates and a time from makarov shortly after the conversation. the only goodbyes you give are rushed words shared with the captain before you take off in an unmarked helicopter, leaving behind promises to explain the situation to those who matter and to get you home as soon as possible.

the location isn't anything of significance, that you're sure of as soon as the helicopter touches down. it's a road just outside of a quiet city, unassuming aside from the sleek black car that sits pulled over to the side. as soon as the gravel crunches under your boots, a man emerges from the vehicle to greet you in a gruff murmur of your callsign. you nod once, unmoving from your position, studying the man as he remains still several feet in front of you.

dressed in painfully normal clothing, a black shirt and a pair of dark weathered jeans, you almost think he's a civilian until your eyes find the patch hastily stuck onto his sleeve, the annoyingly familiar snake skull curving around his bicep as if to taunt anyone who sees it.

he's a mercenary, no doubt. probably someone makarov hired to handle the work his soldiers are above – like this.

as you follow the man to the car, settling in the backseat as he sits in the passenger and vaguely motions to the driver, you briefly wonder just how large makarov's forces are; how far does his influence reach?

you're also left curious about the lack of soldiers. a sign of trust, perhaps? you doubt it, but he's not a man whose decisions are easy to understand. maybe his goal is making you question every little thing that he does, forcing you to stay alert until you exhaust yourself and he has the chance to strike.

the car pulls back onto the road, leaving you to stare out the window as it travels away from the city. the forest surrounding you isn't terribly dense, but enough so that you have to squint to see anything through the passing trees. the winding road heading steadily up a mountain makes it no easier; you searched the coordinates during the flight and saw nothing of significance in the area...

where are they taking you?

the man mumbles something to the driver, catching your attention despite not hearing what he said. the response he receives is in russian and, again, words that you miss due to how quietly they're uttered. once the trees start to thin, however, you assume the sight ahead is what they were discussing.

a villa. a grand one, at that. it's not far from the city, you glance at your watch and time the drive as a half-hour, but the location is secluded, sitting on the cliffside overlooking the population below. it's gated, with armed guards staring the vehicle down as it approaches the entrance; like a stronghold, a private residence barred from any unwanted visitors or influence. it reminds you of las almas, of el sin nombre's villa.

the sun starts to set behind the villa as the car passes the gate and comes to a stop in front of it. the door next to you is suddenly pulled open, yanking your focus from the building as you meet the eye of the soldier, clad in a dark uniform and balaclava, staring you down while holding the door open.

wordlessly, you climb out and narrow your eyes at him, watching as he slams the door shut behind you. there's something familiar about him, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

as his eyes meet yours, it clicks.

"are you the guard from the prison?" you ask, his tired gaze bringing you back to your imprisonment. it's barely been a day since your escape, and yet that place – the injuries that left you in near-constant misery, the prying eyes watching you, the all-too-kind doctor, the other doctor, your enemy being the only person you could even begin to trust – it all feels so distant, despite being so recent.

the soldier huffs, scratching the side of his jaw through his mask. "i have been a guard in many prisons, you will have to be more specific."

you cross your arms tightly, his voice becoming more recognizable as he speaks. thick accent, perpetual disinterest worn like a badge, treating you with indifference despite not walking away.

"i hope the trip wasn't too difficult, lieutenant." a voice pulls you away, making you turn your head to the side as a "friendly" figure emerges from the set of doors nearby. makarov regards you with a small smile, something akin to pride and a more sincere emotion – relief? – glimmering in the dark recesses of his gaze.

you shrug, standing stiff when he stops in front of you. "i think the trip was the easy part." you mutter.

"you underestimate my sense of hospitality," he chuckles, taking in your fatigued state. "you've had a long day, i'll keep the tour brief tonight. i'm sure you have a lot of questions, hm?" his head tilts to the side for a second, emphasizing the question at the end of his remark.

his behavior is… unexpected, to say the least. you were expecting cold apathy like you experienced in captivity, but instead, makarov seems eager to have you here. you're sure it's all part of a plan that you're unaware of, bigger and more important than yourself.

"that's putting it lightly." you reply, walking two paces behind him when he motions for you to follow him inside. the masked solider follows you after a nod towards makarov, accepting a silent order from his commander.

the interior of the villa is equally as extravagant as the exterior— your breath catches in your throat as your footsteps echo against the tile floor, eyes flitting to the art dotting the walls and the furniture that you're certain costs more than your apartment.

"it's all a bit excessive, don't you think?" you murmur, sending a glance to the man in front of you.

makarov hums, hardly sparing his surroundings any attention. "i think it's fitting," he says, leading you to an elevator. "konni is not like the other crude, second-rate paramilitaries you've encountered, petra... we have a goal, organization, leadership—"

"—that leader being you?" you chuckle, stepping into the elevator and facing him. makarov waves the soldier off and presses one of the buttons on the wall, leaving you alone together when the doors slide shut.

"do you doubt me?" he asks, brows furrowing. "need i remind you who is shouldering the burden of protecting you?" he adds, leaning closer as his voice lowers just slightly. you recognize the look, the intent behind the way he moves closer, forcing you to take a step back to create some distance.

"let's get one thing straight," you mutter, trying to keep your tone steady despite your back meeting the wall. "i don't need protection because you're any better than me. you just give me the freedom i need to move against shepherd without putting my squad at risk."

you pause, wetting your lips, before opening your mouth to continue. any words you planned to say leave you in a short breath as you're literally cornered in the small space, though, blinking at the man in front of you. makarov holds your gaze, amusement clearly written on his expression as his arm lifts, caging you in with a tight fist on the wall next to your head.

"you need me, petra. that is what matters." he leans closer still, shifting to rest his forearm against the wall instead, his lips twitching up in a crooked smile. you try to avert your eyes, to stare at the wall past him, but his other hand comes up to stop you with a firm grip on the sides of your jaw, keeping your head still. "i strongly suggest you find it in yourself to cooperate instead of fighting me. this is a very unique opportunity for us to help each other."

"you..." a frustrated sound escapes from you, only serving to encourage him to tighten his hold, leather-clad fingertips digging into your skin. you need to gain his trust if the plan you discussed with price has any chance of succeeding. we get dirty, world stays clean. killing shepherd is the mission; makarov comes later. play your cards right and you can take out them both.

"fine... i guess i owe you civility, at the very least." you concede, one of your hands shooting up to grab his wrist. "just get your hands off me." you grumble with a pointed glare.

makarov's hand retracts before the complaint even fully leaves your lips. "clever girl. you've made the right choice." he murmurs.

he moves away as the elevator reaches the floor and the door slides open again, immediately revealing a corridor dotted with soldiers – some conversing, some standing guard, others approaching the elevator as makarov steps out with you in tow.

"we'll have time for a proper tour later. in the meantime, if you need help navigating the grounds, any of my men will be happy to assist." he says, marching ahead.

"don't have any more room in your busy schedule for me?" you utter, trailing behind him.

he rounds a corner and keeps walking. "not at the moment, unfortunately." you arrive at a door, where he turns to you once more. "i have matters that require my attention, otherwise i would stay longer. i've arranged a place for you to sleep. i suggest you rest tonight. once we have the general's location, you will be needed."

you nod, admittedly taken aback. "i'll... do that, then. thank you." you stutter out.

"don't mention it." he says, already backing away from you and heading back down the hallway. you try not to stare as he disappears from your sight, intentionally fixing your attention on the door he led you to.

so eccentric, you think.

⋆⋆⋆

you let out a contented sigh as you pull your shirt down over your head, standing in the middle of the sizeable bedroom after your shower. a glance out the window tells you what time it is before you even check— the sun set over the horizon about an hour ago.

when you pick your phone up off the nightstand, there's a message from price waiting for you.

status report? 19:05 pm

you look to the door, debating on a response.

all settled in. nothing significant to report yet. 19:15 pm

good. keep your guard up. 19:15 pm

laswell got into contact with alex earlier. potential base in verdansk. 19:16 pm

need me to handle it? 19:16 pm

no. focus on makarov for now. we'll take care of it. 19:17 pm

copy. good luck. 19:17 pm

save some luck for yourself. stay sharp. 19:18 pm

you shove your phone into your pocket and send the door another look, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. makarov said he would be busy, but... there's something telling you to seek him out, some horrible feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach. you have a lot of questions and very few answers, things weighing on your mind that, to your chagrin, only he can ease.

"fucking fantastic," you say to the empty room, shaking off the feeling and heading out into the corridor. after getting directions from a handful of soldiers and a short elevator ride, you find yourself up on the penthouse floor, standing in front of the set of doors leading to his personal office.

you knock before you have the chance to psyche yourself out, three short taps in quick succession, your shoulders rigid until you hear an "enter" from the other side.

when you step in, letting the door softly click shut behind you, makarov lifts his head from the papers on the desk in front of him. you don't move immediately, standing with your back pressed against the smooth wood, your eyes flitting around the neatly-kept space before meeting his.

before you can say anything, he lifts a hand to stop you, bringing your attention to the phone next to his ear.

"i don't care about the weather, alexi," he mutters into the speaker, his focus never shifting from you. "you are leading a group of soldiers, not children, they can handle a storm. communicate the old-fashioned way if you're so worried about signal issues." he continues.

you awkwardly linger in your spot, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. his jaw tenses as his gaze narrows, and for a moment, a small part of you worries that the ire might be directed at you for intruding at an inconvenient time.

"i can come back," you whisper, hand already reaching for the knob behind you.

"stay." he replies, making you freeze. "no, not you, сволочь— just deliver the gas according to the schedule. i won't accept anything later than that." he grumbles into the speaker before hanging up the call and dropping his phone onto the papers, sighing heavily and moving to rub the fatigue from his eyes.

gas? as in, the chemical gas you saw in al-mazrah?

"pleasant conversation?" you tease, earning a pointed glare.

he stands from his chair with a soft groan. "what are you here for?"

you step further into the room, watching as he circles around the desk to meet you in the middle. "not sure. care to educate me on the gas you were talking about, though?" you smile, folding your hands in front of yourself.

makarov eyes you down, scrutinizing you, but gives in after a brief staring contest that you arguably win.

"after we succeed in urzikstan and the kremlin realizes what must be done, we will move on to their allies." he begins, speaking slowly. "my soldiers are making the preparations as we speak, planting it within each target nation."

as he continues, that prior feeling returns tenfold, and you mutter, "the gas used in al-mazrah and vondel?"

he nods, unchanging, even as your expression freely gives away the unease and anger steadily building under your skin. "exactly that. this is just the first step."

there's an emotion on his face, something haunting that makes your chest tighten. total apathy, as if the consequences of his actions mean nothing to him. they don't, your reasonable side is well aware of that, but the sheer wrongness of the situation nags at you, pushing you to try to prevent it in whatever ways you can.

"okay, i know you don’t care about innocent lives being lost," you start, crossing your arms over your chest. "but, i do. i'm not going to stand by and watch you destroy the world over some... bullshit hunt for glory! if you use that gas, i'm backing out." you assert. he steps back from you, creating a comfortable distance.

"i thought you were here for a reason, petra. unless, you've changed your mind?" makarov asks with a curious lilt, turning to face away from you.

your arms drop to your sides as your hands clench into fists. "we both know how deadly that gas is – it can kill millions. i'd rather take my chances with the government than assist you with that."

makarov hums in acknowledgement, standing in front of his desk now, and you watch as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey and empty tumbler sitting near the edge.

"are you seriously pouring yourself a drink right now?" you pause your rant, positively fuming while he pours the liquid into the glass. is this all some kind of fucking joke to him?

"i find it easier to listen when i have a drink," makarov replies. he produces a second glass and fills it up, before turning back to you. "but, you do raise a fair point, lieutenant. these plans can be delayed a little while longer." he says, holding it out to you in offering.

you take the glass slowly, confused. "just... like that? so easy?" you hesitate, distrustful— for good reason, too.

the amber liquid swirls in makarov's glass when he moves his hand, dismissing your concerns. "there are still steps between now and then. having you as an ally is far more important in the present."

"wh... just like that?" you parrot, gawking at him when he hands you his glass and walks past you, heading to the door. you spin on your heel and stare at the back of his head as he twists the knob and swings the door open.

he barely acknowledges you when he waves over his shoulder, again, dismissing it. "don't spend too much time on it. focus on the situation in the present."

as he disappears into the corridor, leaving the door to the very private room wide open behind him, you're completely dumbfounded. you came to him for answers; instead of getting that, all you have are more questions.

focus on the situation in the present.

it just sounds like a long-winded way of saying, "direct your anger at anyone but me."

from a tactical standpoint, it's hard to disagree. you're allies with this man, even if it is temporary. no matter how harsh his methods and unreasonable his beliefs, you'll have to learn to tolerate it. your eyes fall to the untouched glasses in your hands, then to the desk behind you, and finally back to the door.

"what the hell have i gotten myself into?"

translations:

сволочь (svoloch) - bastard

taglist: @sofasoap, @roosterr, @rohansregret, @lonesome-doves, @thorrsexual, @miss-nob0dy, @woodeelf, @fbs-fc-ur-mommy, @soap-mactavish, @itsyellow, @johfaam0, @cumbermovels, @chxe-zdechnac, @imagineswritersblog, @emorgz33, @sparda-ly, @ponyboys-sunsets, @frazie99, @chensipstea, @thriving-n-jiving, @preciouslittlecreature, @infinitewhore, @jade-jax, @caramlizedtomatoes, @ohworm-writes

⋆ feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist! (18+ only please <3)

[ofbreathandflame-archive]

will delete later but imma gonna rant bc i can and yall be sending me these things knowing im gonna snap but HEY i guess ill take over hate.💀

you know, when we said that cassian was abusive in acosf, and that his behavior was not only unromantic, but very much parallel to the way tamlin treated feyre in maf -- we were met with contention. it was ‘cassian is the best bat boy!” “how can you hate cassian” and “you guys always find problems” 

but if when the conversation becomes something like nessian >>> feysand or cassian >>> rhysand then suddenly all of the red flags that cassian showed in sf and even in acowar become apparent. then you guys can point out the problems in the hike, how cassian treated nesta horribly, wasn’t attentive. how cassian sexualized her body, and used her body, how he wouldn’t even give nesta sugar even though she was literally suffering through something adjacent to an eating disorder, where she wasn’t eating or practicing self-hygiene. now you see how he doesn’t tell nesta that she is loved, how he calls her out of her name, how he repeatedly disrespects her boundaries.

it is abuse. say it with me: a b u s e. 

it was easy for y’all to blame the 25 y/o and not the 530+ y/o who personally saw himself in charge of her mental health journey, against her wishes, locked in her in the house with him, and then made sexual comments about her while continually isolating every part of her life, and having her do things on behalf of the court and the library with no money. 

and then y’all argued that more responsibility should be placed on nesta and not the immortal man who literally put himself in charge of every aspect of her life. that nesta somehow deserved that bc she was difficult. that argument is deranged. i don’t give a shit how ‘difficult’ nesta was,’ she is still the victim. that you guys believe other wise belies a fundamental understanding of abuse and domestic violence 

and it wasn’t like writing a 2000+ words of textual evidence, scene by scene parallels was enough -- nah. all we have to do is realign the conversation a character v. character debate and suddenly it becomes very clear. 

and as i said, i always fucking knew y’all saw the problems, even when y’all called them ridiculous. but if the conversation was removed of y’all hate for nesta and recontextualized as a feysand v. nessian argument all of a sudden you guys can see the abuse. its absolutely disgusting. 

and even then, the acknowledgement of these issues is only because you want to laugh at nesta for being in that abusive predicament. because of course these issues only matters when your trying to prove a tit-for-tat point about what batboy is better. cassian was abusive. the hike was one of the most disgusting act of abuse in that book.

and this matters bc literally we watched a man -- a famous actor -- sue the woman who he abused, and then have the whole world argue that she deserved the abuse because she was a difficult woman. we saw her sa be mocked, her trauma dubbed ‘not realistic enough bc thats not how real victims act, we saw people fandomize a grown real life man (a HASBEEN) and it has now set a trend where abusers are suing their victims arguing the SAME argument, it matters. we watched as  RAPE threats were suddenly ‘okay’ bc the victim was ‘difficult’ that the 20 something y/o somehow how more power and money than the the man twice her age, with triple the funds. 

 y’all are absolutely disgusting and i will NEVER take any of u anti nesta people seriously like y’all are nasty people. 

y’all tried. 

[ophiocordyceps]

hey gang it's time for my attempt at articulating my thoughts about V2 again. and its long so it's going under a readmore

In my mind, V2 is a machine that struggles heavily with making sense of its place in the world. The very core of its model line is based in war, yet it was created after that very thing became irrelevant. Its creators wanted to get their money's worth out of the V-series, and with V1 being effectively obsolete, they started work on V2 with little more intent than simply to keep the model relevant.

And then that failed.

The trick was that it would be touted as a 'peacekeeper,' though they tried marketing it more towards security firms and law enforcement agencies with no luck. In early training and testing it came back with a lot of judgement errors or outright malfunctioned, running off reused programming that hadn't had time to learn and develop just yet. As time went on it observed, it learned, it came closer to human than V1 ever had, and... that sort of freaked the team working on the project out a bit. V2 had picked up the peacekeeper façade readily while the higher ups started having to debate ethics, and still no one really cared about these prototypes anymore.

It really internalized the idea of bringing peace, or at least doing something that didn't add more pain to a world that's seen so much of it already, though it resented the fact that most of the project team didn't really try to think of it as a person. It nearly bankrupt whatever company or agency or whatever that produced it after they finally gave up and reached out to humanitarian organizations.

And so the first real role it found itself in was in various recovery jobs. Search and rescue, casualty scouting, body recovery, things of that nature. And it loved the fact that it could help, make itself useful, it grew fascinated with humanity and in turn grew more human-like itself, now that it interacted with them so much. Eventually it would modify itself in order to allow a greater range of expression in a way that would be understandable to humans. But even then... it wasn't really a part of human society. It was a tool, and its immersion into humanity was only surface deep, though it wouldn't figure this out in time. Sometimes people would be wary, they would mistrust it, especially those with knowledge of its predecessor. Kind of the same as seeing one of those Boston Dynamics dogs doing something innocent enough but knowing what they're being made for.

And then...well. something happened. Hell broke loose, or the machines started an uprising, or maybe the actual rapture happened, who knows. Either way, mankind eventually died, and that stripped V2 of not only its purpose, but a massive portion of what had become its identity. Now the machines were driven to fighting each other for survival, and violent conflict had slowly but surely been divorced from V2's perception of itself; it wasn't really afraid of or worried about harming other machines, that fear was mainly focused on humans and later husks, but it had forged itself so far away from that original war machine mold that this new state of affairs had become basically irreconcilable with itself. It hated that it had to do this, that it and others like it could do nothing more than fight to the death to keep on living as fuel became scarce. But it did have a new purpose to replace the one that it lost: surviving. If it had to be a war machine it could be, and it could be efficient about it, even if it didn't particularly enjoy it, even if it felt wrong.

Something was still missing though, and it spent a long time simply existing aimlessly outside of the scope of staying alive, even as it was driven down into Hell. Or possibly it was already there, being sent down in the aftermath of the Hell expeditions. Either way, the result is the same. In hell it grew furthermore aimless and lonely, survival was a monotonous task it had to repeat constantly. It stayed in Limbo because it's almost familiar, and it misses what used to be.

And then V1 one day shows up to Limbo. Its predecessor it had never met. It would be curious of course, but V1 has only ever known combat, it doesn't have the same capacity for irrelevant curiosity, nor the desire to stop what it's doing, so they inevitably fight. They fight, V1 wins, V2 loses its arm to its predecessor and is forced to retreat, and it keeps thinking about this. It grows resentful of it, replaying the battle to learn more and more about V1's tactics in order to get back at it. Suddenly it has a brand new purpose: killing or otherwise defeating V1.

Getting revenge.

Revenge is what drives it deeper through the layers, it constructs the whiplash on its own from scavenged parts, and with its head start it still finds time to be curious; it never meets any of them but it learns of Gabriel, of Minos and Sisyphus. It learns things V1 wouldn't care nearly as much about as it goes deeper into Hell, because despite the reality of everything going on around it, it still wants nothing more than to stop and learn, to be useful in some way, and in its mind, archiving information counts as useful.

And eventually that brings it to Greed.

By now it has poured over its memory of it and V1's initial fight innumerable times, resentment growing into hatred, it couldn't fucking stand that thing. It did not see itself as superior—if anything it felt somewhat inferior to its predecessor, a half-baked attempt at convincing the public to invest in the model line that never panned out, forced to claw its way out into the world and forge a sense of self and belonging.

And then of course, V1 catches up again, they fight, V2 tries to escape again and V1 doesn't let it get away.

V2 comes crashing down from the pyramid, and purpose no longer matters to it after that.

Had it lived longer, had it successfully escaped V1's all-consuming violence, it might've realized how deeply its resentment was settled within it, it might've realized why, that V1 had cast a shadow on its existence from the very beginning, down to influencing its very creation. It would've despised it knowing that. It would never be V1, it never wanted to be, and now it would never have the chance.

Had it lived longer, it would have also realized how superficial its connection to humanity had really been and how hollow that original peacekeeper label truly was.

V2 dies an unsatisfactory death under the scorching sun of Greed, a peaceful entity driven to violence and a machine with no good reason to exist.

[goldenappledelicious]

Just some EAH/Wicked Rambling

(Also sorry for taking so long to get this out. Hotd season 2 trailer dropped and Dune Part 2 went to streaming so my attention was divided)

So there’s like a lot of jokes about the similarities between Gelphie and Rapple and I kind just wanna make a post talking about those similarities and differences. Just to kind sort through my thoughts.

So the thing is, I think there are a lot of similarities between Apple and Galinda.

Blonde, pretty, wealthy, privileged, and popular girls rooming with a more sardonic, widely hated roommate. And in spite of how the musical kinda playing up the dumb blonde thing with Glinda cover it, Glinda is also very academic. Her rivalry with Elphaba starts due to Elphaba easily getting into the seminar she was working hard to get into.

And they both have that kind of bubbly, slightly condescending even if not usually on purpose manner to them.

It’s just interesting how they do kind of have a similar starting to due to how much they really differ.

It’s kinda funny to me, after that Apple discourse thing, how different I think people in each fandom feel about Apple and Glinda respectively.

Especially considering Glinda does objectively much worse things. Apple, at the end of the day, is still a teenager in high school. Her bad actions, up until Dragon Games, are mostly on an interpersonal level. Even with Dragon Games, her actions were bad, and dangerous, but also informed by the people in power doing very little once they knew the Evil Queen was out.

Glinda meanwhile, becomes an actual important member of the government during the low point of her story. She may not actively oppress the Animals, but she’s a prominent member and reluctant supporter of the group who does.

Apple genuinely believes in and supports Destiny for most of the show. Glinda strongly disagrees with the the Wizard’s rule but chooses her own comfort and safety for much of the second act.

There is a certain amount of distance to Glinda’s actions (or lack thereof) compared to Apple’s. Raven is a Rebel who is actively harmed by the Destiny system. Elphaba is unquestionably mistreated too, but she’s not an Animal. She is fighting for their plight, but not for herself.

Also. Apple and Raven are very much pit against each other just due to the main story of the show. Meanwhile Glinda and Elphaba, in spite of their fluctuating (and at worst far more actively antagonistic than anything Rapple has) relationship, are very much presented as a unit in the musical.

In EAH, the Royal v Rebel debate is the core of the show with Raven and Apple’s relationship being an important element. While in Wicked, Elphaba and Glinda’s relationship and their love for one another is unquestionably the core of the musical, with the Animal oppression plot being more of an important catalyst for the plot to move.

And I just think that helps inform the character’s actions and reception. Don’t really have a point, just kind of some directionless ramblings I was thinking about recently.

[exocynraku]

hi! no idea if this has been answered, but have you considered how groups of seals think about queerness as a whole? are there trans seals? how do they perceive gayness or a complete disinterest in sexual relations (and, tying into this-seals who have no desire to have a partner, whether or not it's platonic?) no pressure to respond d: love ur little guys the gene sheet is so cool

Short answer: our human concepts of gayness and transgendism don’t properly/fully apply to caeseal societies because gender is not a concept that exists. It’s just never been invented. sex-based genders (boy and girl), masculinity/felinity and tradtional gender roles don't exist. The only thing that does exist is different ways seals will PERSONNALY refer to themselves (pronoun wise i talk about mostly). I say personally because the pronouns seals use are ALWAYS DIFFERENT! specifically catered to the singular seal! (with the except of it/its which you'll have to read my long answer for if you want to understand that) Our human concepts of asexualism/aromanticism/things akin to that DO exist but play a more prominent role in pods. Hunts are kind of an odd ball, lol. Long answer: caeseals and their relationships with sexuality and gender are a lot more different than ours, mostly because:

 caeseals have little to no physical difference between sexes excluding reproducing organs. i'm still debating if i want to add any sort of sex-linked gene(s). this is very unlike most real species of seals but i decided on it mostly because i . Like it more than normal sexual dimorphism? that's sort of it. 

with no obvious sexual differences there also isn’t really a concept of ‘masculinity’ or ‘femininity’, and traditional gender roles haven’t been invented. 

and this all does play a part in caeseal society. how sexuality and “gender” both work differ between pod and hunt groups ! 

hunts: with mates being assigned, what we know as traditional romance is pretty much nonexistent. hunt seal romance is more akin to friendly rivalries.

sexual and romantic attraction really isn’t something that cross hunt seals minds. it does occur, but very few will act on them until later in their life (after they’ve mated, when they can do whatever they want). Excluding a distaste towards sex, which they’ll usually act on sometime after getting paired up by killing their partner.

the sex of hunt seals is known by the leader of the hunt. since they are the ones who choose pairings, they need to keep track of everybody to make sure pairings would be able to reproduce. 

all hunt seals start their lives being called ‘it’ (it/its). this also works as a catch-all term if you need to refer to a seal you don’t know the gender of.

most hunt seals will eventually stray away from 'it' as they grow. there are many reasons one may, and i couldn't list them all. but, as they stray away, the terms they choose are usually entirely unrelated to their sex. instead, it's usually related to their fighting style! 

all seals, no matter the group, attack by biting. but attacking is not all you need to know, especially in hunts. hunts teach all sorts of specialized moves, ranging from defense techniques, knowing your limits & how to use your differences to your advantage, surprise attacks, how to use your surroundings, etc etc. and a lot of seals have somethint they specialize in.

hunt seals use this when choosing how to refer to themselves. have you ever heard of kiki and bouba? how kiki sounds sharp and pointy and bouba sounds soft and round? hunt seals apply the vibes and feelings of different noises (letters) to the vibes and feelings of the thing they specialize in. 

a seal who specializes in surprise attacks would go for something short and sudden sounding (ex: t/k/v/j), maybe a noise that'd instil a feeling of dread. (ex: ss/ee) 

a seal who specializes in a battering-ram style charges to throw opponents around would want something that starts slower (oo, uu, aa, hh, gg) and ends solid, but not sharp. (d/g/b/m) 

etc etc, i could make a million examples. hunt seals who specialize in multiple styles could use multiple pronouns or mix two together. if a hunt seal's style changes over time, so could how they refer to themselves. 

what feeling a certain letter evokes does vary SLIGHTLY hunt to hunt, but that doesn't matter, and a hunt seal wouldn't introduce themselves to a seal from a different hunt. they'd just fight each other. 

i’ll probably make a guide for what letters hunt seals associate different things to. but that’ll be later

pods: pod culture around relationships is a LOT more complex than hunts and is a bit hard to define. Gender is . still a bit complex but it’s definitely easier to understand than their relationships

similar to hunts, pod seals begin their lives being referred to as it (it/its). but the way pod seals figure out what terms they’ll be referred to as isn’t actually determined by them. as seals grow up, the people around them and the people they’re close to, usually immediate family, will start referring to them in different ways. whatever their family thinks fits them. as time goes on, eventually certain terms will fall off and others will stick. and eventually, usually when they’re about halfway thru their juvenality, one will REALLY stick. that’ll be how this seal refers to themselves.

similar to hunts, these terms are usually made up, but not related to sounds. they’re related to things that the seals family associates with them. usually physical objects/things or ‘vibes’. this is a little hard to explain, but eventually i’ll make an easier guide/make examples.

If a seal for whatever reason doesn’t like the term that’s been decided for them, they can ask for more suggestions/pick a different one their family recommended/make one up themselves/etc. It’s rare for this to happen but it’ll show up every so often. 

Pods relationships are open and ‘cheating’ is not a concept that exists in their society. Seals who never end up in relationships with other seals do exist but they’re hard to find. Most seals are able to keep track of who they’re in a relationship with but those who like having lots of partners will occasionally keep lists. 

Most seals end up in relationships with those who they grew up with but meeting someone totally new does happen. And when i mean meeting someone new, i mean both from a different pod and inside your OWN pod. This might seem crazy but, i think i’ve mentioned it, pods can get VERY BIG!!!! There is most DEFINITELY a chance there’ll be some seals you don’t meet for a long time or are only acquaintances with. 

Pod relationships are pretty complex but CAN be understood if you put a bit of brain into it. The only relationship that’s not hard to figure out are familial relationships as those just work as. That’s my family. That’s not my family. Otherwise, pod seal relationships usually consist of offshoots of platonic, romantic or sexual. (ps: when i say platonic i don’t mean stuff like friends or acquaintances those are their own thing that word just how they do normally in real life) to give a few examples, someone could have a solely romantic relationship with another seal, but be open to romantic or sexual relationships. Someone could like romantic relationships but only with people they don’t know very well. I could quite literally go on forever. 

But, when referring to another seal, pod seals will generally say ‘i don’t know that seal/we’re acquaintances/we’re friends’ or ‘we have a relationship/we are partners’ and then expand further or not depending on comfort. I’m not sure if i explained that well (like ive done with most of the stuff in this post putting my thoughts into words is brain melting) but i’ll have to cap it here before i die in some sort of way. But i’ll get around to making nice guides eventually, probably when school stops swamping me (who knows when that’ll be though) 

[queenofbaws]

top 5 favourite until dawn characters to WRITE vs top 5 favourite until dawn characters in general (if it's different)

it is such an important distinction med, and i thank you endlessly for letting me get into it 😏

WRITING

1. flamethrower guy/the stranger/jack: this one likely shocks no one. there's just. a joy. that comes with writing an unhinged, monster-hunting hermit. he kicks doors open. he lives in a burnt out hospital full of Creatures. he's larry fessenden. he's alive in canon for roughly 5 minutes. he's the light of my life. 2. mike: probably slightly more of a surprise because i don't write him OFTEN, but i love writing mike. lovelovelove writing him. mostly because, of the ud kids, i think he's the character who talks...the most...like i do irl??? similar speech patterns, i mean - same tendency to just. say things. that do not make sense. or things that did not need to be said. 3. EMILY: again, probably a surprise because i don't write her much, but my GOD there is a freedom to writing in emily's voice asldkfjdskf she's smart. she's mean. she always has at least three insults locked and loaded in the chamber. she's also the only character in the franchise to say "understand the palm of my hand, bitch." she contains multitudes. 4. dr. hill: gotta be honest here. i went through. a lot. of schooling for psychology. okay. like. however much you think that means? it was like. twice that. and i spent a lot of time - a lot of time - listening to professionals in the field talk in circles and say absolutely batshit things while sagely nodding and giving everyone around them knowing looks, and if i didn't have alan j. hill to channel all that lingering angst into, i might've exploded by now 😫 hehehehehe. i'm only sort of joking. 5. beth: what did supermassive give her? nothing. what does that mean? she can be anything i want, and i don't have to worry over whether or not it sounds believable in canon 😎 lmfao. in much the same way i looove writing jack because we get like. 10 lines and A Vibe from him, beth's a hoot to write for because, like. we know who her siblings are. we have an IDEA of what her home life must've been like...and everything else is up for debate!!!

JUST, LIKE, TO LOOK AT

1. ashley ashley ashley: they could never make me hate you bb. did she handle some things poorly? yes. does she make some questionable decisions? sure. would i give her the world if the opportunity presented itself? of course. look, i just think. she should get to do...whatever she wants. always. as a treat. :)c 2. matt: i am so. intrigued. by matt's whole deal. every second of it. he's a huge part of the prank but he's also hugely sympathetic. he has that incredibly cute moment with ashley right as they get to the lodge but seems pretty chilly (if not downright disinterested in) chris and josh, her best friends. he helps jess through the mines. he holds his own with emily. unless you play him a v certain way, he seems the most interested in smoothing things over between everybody. HE LEAVES. THE FUCKING. HATCHET. AT THE BASE. OF THE FIRE TOWER. i would love to live in his brain for just like...ten minutes. just really figure him out. (i need to write more with him too 😭 he has bewitched me, body and soul) 3. flamethrower guy/the stranger/jack: look. look i'm not subtle. i just. love that weird old man. i just love him so much. if supermassive said 'hey here's a dlc where you go through one (1) calendar day as jack fiddler, it costs $60 and is roughly 1 hour of gameplay,' i'd fold immediately. idk why. 4. josh: there is no one - NO ONE - in this, or any other, game who's so willing to commit so fully to the bit. my man had BLUEPRINTS. my guy had DEAD PIGS. bro sourced knockout gas and fake newspapers and real blood and made voice recordings and an alter ego and rigGED HIS WHOLE FAMILY'S VACATION HOME WITH BOOBY TRAPS, THREW A PARTY ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HIS SISTERS' SUPPOSED DEATHS, AND EVERYONE STILL FUCKING SHOWED UP. say whatever else you want about him, josh had SOMETHING figured out, man. 5. jess: again. did she make some questionable decisions? sure. do i agree with everything she did? no. but after everything she goes through, after all the tragedy and agony and terror she is put through, this girl still has the wherewithal to grab a shovel and beam a guy in the head with it, and you know what? i respect that 🙏🏻 plus she wore hiphuggers to a party on a mountain in alberta in the dead of winter, and i just want to study her under a microscope.

[imtooscaredforthis]

The Dark Side of Ghostface

AKA- Me analyzing Ghostface’s character after reading his tome in class 🤭🤭🤭

Spoiler Warning Ahead- Ghostface’s Archives

I’m not going to lie, I’m kind of a perfectionist. I’ve spent a while trying to analyze Ghostface and write him as closest to canon as possible lmfao- and this isn’t me trying to tell people how to write Ghostface..you can write him however you want, it’s just my interpretation…so yeah- Let me know if there’s anything I missed!

I- Daddy Issues + Origin

The only thing known about Danny’s family is his Father, who was also a murderer who loved to share horror stories, just like him.

His father was hard on him, told him terrifying stories of his kills, and was “as tough as nails” - and when your father is a serial killer, a man who’s already prone to lots of violence, you can guess the things he’s done to him

Still, Danny respected his father, but he did kill him, and his father was his first “design” - his first kill - and Danny felt ashamed of the way he killed him.

And for the nature v nurture debate for Danny, I guess we have an answer…both. Not only did he get his Homicidal tendencies from genetics, but his father literally taught him to kill too

Danny’s father affects his perspective greatly, especially how he views life and humanity, saying that humans are “intrinsic killers”

II- The Design + How Danny views murder

It’s easy to tell that Danny is a narcissist and a psychopath, I mean, he literally writes about his murders in the paper

He sees his murders as a story, a design, art, something to keep the suburban community aka the majority and the ordinary at unrest. He sees it as a favor, help keeping their lives interesting by scaring the shit out of them

Danny goes after the ordinary, someone most people can relate to, and someone who doesn’t deserve to die, because it makes it just the more terrifying

He follows his victims routines, plans out the murder in his head, pictures the kill, and the headlines he’ll write about it and then executes it

III- Personality + Pet Peeves

Danny is a perfectionist, but he also seems a little more restrained compared to the other dbd killers. He stalks his prey, holds back and plans his kill, waiting for the right moment…for the most part.

His “normal” personality- Jed is a charming and kind, but non-threatening presence and he knows he has to seem like that to avoid suspicion, duh, and easily manipulate people, so they’ll just be like “oh good old Jed, he wouldn’t hurt a fly” bullshit

But what really pisses Danny off when people don’t fear Ghostface, when they view him as an “urban legend” - OR when ordinary people or losers try to act like killers, like him (EX: “The three stooges” who talked about killing and had the pictures of killers up on the wall…killers that Danny admired and deemed “legends” and he went fucking crazy, stabbing one of the men in the face so many times that he was unrecognizable)

Danny wants people to take what he does seriously, he is aware of the impact of his actions, and what he’s doing, so if and when he finds out someone is laughing about it? Laughing at him? He gets pissed

So there are certain triggers that can make Danny snap, just like anyone else. But when he snaps…he becomes very violent, much more violent than usual

Because Danny takes his designs seriously, does this mean he’s a serious person? Not at all. He’s cruel, and taunts the men he kills in the arcade, and also the man he killed in the hardware store

He’s having a very fun time, as you can see here, humming to himself and doing his little taunting wave before he kills the poor man working at the register (RIP Cashier)

IV- Killing + Entity’s Favorite

Most of, if not all the things Danny does have to do with his design. He’s either writing, searching for his next victim, stalking his next victim, or killing

There’s not a lot of Danny’s life that doesn’t have to do with murder, especially since he was raised to be a killer

Which is why when he was a perfect candidate to be taken by The Entity. While some other killers have been brainwashed or turned into monsters, Danny’s mental state doesn’t change in the slightest, when you read the quotes of his add ons

In fact, he enjoys The Entity’s dimension. It’s a place where he can murder and stalk and do as he pleases, and doesn’t have to worry about getting caught or pretending to be normal. He can just be his murderous psycho self.